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sidekick-hero · 1 month ago

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Phoenix

(steddie | explicit | 7.4k | AO3 | tags: porn with fluff, rock star eddie, roadie steve, canon divergence - eddie lives and cc gets famous)

The most talented @firefly-party drew some gorgeous art of Eddie enjoying some cake 😏🍑 and this inspired this fic. Lots of love go out to @hbyrde36 and @pearynice for being amazing cheerleaders and beta readers 💜

Excerpt

A loud throat-clearing cuts through the haze, and Steve opens his eyes to see Gareth, sitting with a wicked grin, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper at Eddie’s back. “Oi, lovebirds,” he says, “save those bedroom eyes for the actual bedroom, Munson.”

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

Jeff leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You two always manage to bring your own kind of encore,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows in a way that’s both exaggerated and somehow fond.

From across the room, their sound tech, Lucy, chuckles as she shoves a bag into her duffel. “Guess the ‘Phoenix’ isn’t the only thing heating up tonight,” she jokes, grinning at Steve’s half-embarrassed, half-amused expression.

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

As the last few crew members file out, tossing in good-natured jabs and rolling their eyes, Jeff gives Steve a pat on the back. “You’ve got him all to yourself now, Harrington,” he says with a smirk. “Don’t wear him out too much. We’ve still got another show tomorrow.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager.

Read the rest on AO3

For everyone who rather reads on here, have the whole fic under the cut.

Phoenix

The arena is almost silent as the lights go out, the applause fading into a hush as everyone around him holds their breath. It’s as if they’ve all merged into one living entity, one organism waiting for the band to return and deliver the encore they’re all craving.

Corroded Coffin’s encores have become legendary among their fans. Mostly because of Eddie.

Of course.

Steve can’t blame them. He’s never been able to take his eyes off him either. In any room, no matter what was happening, the moment Eddie came alive, when that inner light blazed through, Steve was captivated. It’s no surprise he isn’t the only one, but he finds comfort in knowing he was one of the first.

They all fell in love with Eddie Munson, the rock star. Steve fell in love with Eddie Munson, the nerd. The part-time drug dealer, the super senior, the dungeon master. He fell for the brave man who was willing to die for a town that hated him and the man his kids trusted and looked up to.

That very man is now strutting back onto the stage, his silhouette barely visible in the dim twilight of the arena. But Steve would recognize him anywhere. Besides, he knows what’s coming—he’s heard Eddie excitedly ramble about his plans while they lay in bed, Eddie’s head resting in Steve’s lap as his fingers combed through damp curls, untangling them before they dried after his shower.

This is the first time they’re playing this particular song, Phoenix. It’s about someone dying so they can finally live, and only their tight-knit circle knows just how much truth is behind it. The song is Eddie’s way of processing what happened during that fateful week in the spring of '86. But, like most of Eddie’s songs, it’s also a love song.

A love song for Steve.

Eddie sings about a man burning in hell to rise from the ashes, hands lifting him to soar again, flying higher and higher, fueled by love instead of air beneath his wings. It’s classic Eddie—telling Steve he loves him in front of thousands of people, with words that sound like they’re straight out of one of those fantasy novels Eddie and the kids all love so much.

The whole band is on fire—literally—because their show features some wild pyro effects. Steve hadn’t been thrilled when Eddie first floated the idea of setting parts of the stage ablaze. He was even less enthusiastic when Gareth and Eddie began talking about adding flames to their outfits. To Steve, that was practically asking for disaster. But, as usual, he hadn’t been able to resist Eddie’s big brown puppy eyes for long.

Now, watching them perform, Steve has to admit it works. The fire dances across the stage in time with the music, bursts of flame punctuating every explosive guitar riff. Smoke swirls in sync with the pounding drums, and sparks rain down like stars during the climactic solo, making it feel as though the whole arena is caught in the heat of the moment. It’s pure chaos, and yet, somehow, it’s beautiful.

As Phoenix reaches its crescendo, Eddie steps into the heart of the flames, the light catching his silhouette as though he’s rising from the ashes himself. His voice soars above the roaring crowd, each note carrying both the weight of the past and the promise of a future. The audience, already mesmerized, holds its breath as Eddie holds the final note, arms outstretched, as if he’s daring the fire to consume him.

There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then the whole arena erupts into a roaring applause. People are whistling and cheering, Steve among them. Sue him, but even after a year of doing this with Eddie, he’s still in awe of how good Eddie and the other guys are. They’re a garage band from some small town in bumfuck Indiana, but the moment they step on stage, they have the crowd completely under their spell. Steve had read an article about Corroded Coffin that said all guys want to be them and all girls want to be their lovers.

He disagrees. He’s pretty sure some of these girls wouldn’t mind rocking on stage themselves, and Steve knows from experience that some of the guys definitely want to be their boyfriends, too.

The only difference between Steve and those guys? While they all want Eddie, Steve is the one who gets to take him home every night.

How he got so lucky is still beyond him. For months, Steve had been convinced he’d ruined everything between them before they ever got a real chance. And now he’s the one Eddie Munson calls sweetheart, darling, princess. The one he calls Love.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been wonderful tonight. Your high esteem has fed us well, and we’ll repay the favor with another firestorm of a concert very soon. So keep your eyes peeled for the announcement. Until then, remember to be the menaces you’re meant to be, and rock on! We are Corroded Coffin, the devil’s own jesters, and this has been another glorious night of our Rituals tour!”

The lights go out after Eddie’s final words, and with another round of thunderous applause, a single spotlight highlights each band member, giving them their moment to shine before darkness swallows the stage. Steve knows it gives the band time to slip away before the crowd starts to disperse.

Back when Steve first started at their shows as a roadie, a fan had somehow tricked security into believing she was part of the crew. In the general chaos of people leaving, no one questioned her as she followed them all the way to the green room. She’d launched herself at Eddie, knocking him over onto the hard concrete. He’d only ended up with a few bruises, but he hit his head, and the headache lasted well into the next day, making him feel miserable. Worse still, it made his old scars ache in sympathy.

Steve had been livid.

After, Steve had been adamant that the band needed to invest in more security—less access for the public, stricter controls, the whole nine yards. Eddie, Frank, and Jeff didn’t want to hear any of it. To Steve’s surprise, it was Gareth who found a compromise for them. The head start they get now is part of it. Another is the presence of Sam and James, two guys built like tanks, who travel with the band and keep things secure backstage, on the tour bus, and everywhere in between.

Except for Eddie, who’s Steve’s to keep safe—and he takes that job seriously.

Which is why he packs up on stage as fast as humanly possible, only to be shooed away by Anna, the head of stage design. She oversees cleanup and can tell Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin to get to Eddie.

“You’re stressing me the hell out, Harrington. Go check on your man before you have a heart attack or something equally dramatic that’ll keep us here longer than necessary. And take that amp with you—put those guns to use,” she adds, gesturing at his biceps.

It’s a testament to how desperately he wants to see Eddie that he doesn’t protest, just salutes her and grabs the amp. “Thanks, Anna. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving him off. “To be young and in love again.”

“You’re 34, not ancient.”

“I’m not Munson, Harrington—flattery doesn’t work on me. Now shoo, before I change my mind and leave you to clean up the whole stage yourself.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to make a hasty retreat. As fast as he can, he heads backstage to the green room, where the band is no doubt coming down from their post-show high.

As Steve nears the green room, he can already hear laughter and excited chatter. Eddie’s voice rings out the loudest—it always does—but he can also pick out Jeff’s deep rumble and Gareth’s indignant “Oi!” He’s probably been teased again. The happy sounds make Steve pick up his pace, and as he rounds the last corner, he nearly barrels into Sam.

“Careful, Ozzy,” Sam laughs, dodging aside with surprising grace for someone his size. When Steve had first started tagging along, the crew had looked a little skeptical of his preppy outfits, which stuck out among the metalheads and crew members, who dress more for comfort and utility. Eddie, in his usual fashion, had vouched for him, regaling everyone with a heavily edited story about how Steve had once bitten the head off a bat to save them. Steve's scars, which matched Eddie's own, had helped sell the story. It had earned him coolness points and the nickname "Ozzy”.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You probably wouldn’t even feel it if I charged you with a battering ram.”

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend, Ozzy,” comes James’ teasing voice. “I think you’ve got your hands full with your own.” Steve knows James isn’t actually jealous—anyone with eyes can see he’s completely gone on Eddie. Robin’s words, not his. She’d visited them about three months ago during a break in the tour and had teased him mercilessly. Steve plans to return the favor once she finds someone who steals her heart. It’s what best friends do.

“Speaking of—think you could open the door for me?” Steve nods at the amp he’s still carrying. “My hands are full, and this thing’s getting heavy.”

“Sure thing,” Sam says, already moving to open the door as James smirks at Steve.

“Your game’s slipping, Oz. Pretty soon you won’t even be able to toss Munson around.”

“What a sad day that would be,” chimes a familiar voice as the door swings open, revealing Eddie’s grinning face. He winks at Steve. “But that day’ll never come, right, big boy?”

“Never,” Steve promises as he sets the amp down and immediately sweeps Eddie off his feet, pulling him into his arms. Eddie whoops loudly, then breaks into manic laughter, clearly riding high on adrenaline and endorphins.

Steve lets Eddie slide down his body, his hands resting firmly on Eddie’s hips, holding him close as Eddie beams down at him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, voice warm and a bit breathless.

“Hey, baby. You look happy.”

Leaning in until their noses are almost touching, Eddie grins and says, “That’s because I am! Did you see us, Stevie? We rocked! I told you, Phoenix needed fire. They loved it, didn’t they?”

Steve rubs their noses together, his heart swelling at how excited—and just plain adorable—Eddie is after a good show.

“They loved you,” he says proudly, his voice going rough. “But they can’t have you.”

Eddie’s grin turns mischievous. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes,” Steve almost growls. He knows exactly where this is headed, but he can’t resist. Something about the way Eddie commands the stage and the way people respond to him always stirs Steve’s more possessive side.

Good thing Eddie loves it.

“And why is that?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It feels like they’re the only two in the room, though Steve knows everyone else is well-accustomed to their little ritual by now.

Another growl rises in Steve’s chest. “Because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Eddie agrees, and finally leans in to kiss him.

It stays gentle and innocent for all of five seconds before Eddie, ever the troublemaker, lets out a quiet moan against Steve’s lips. It’s a sound that’s practically Pavloved Steve into instant reaction; he bites down on Eddie’s lower lip, slipping his tongue into Eddie’s willing mouth when he gasps in response. The familiar shock of Eddie’s tongue piercing, cool and metallic against his own tongue, is addictive, a reminder of just how intoxicatingly Eddie he is. And as soon as he catches that taste of energy drink Eddie always downs like water before a show, Steve is completely done for.

He couldn’t say exactly why—certainly not in this moment, when he’s all lust and love and instinct, and not even later when his head isn’t so full of EddieEddieEddie. Maybe it’s because that taste, coupled with the playful brush of that piercing, makes everything feel so real. Tangible. No one else knows the slightly off-putting tang of that artificial drink on Eddie’s tongue, or the way the cold steel feels against his lip as Eddie’s tongue brushes past it. It’s not something he could’ve imagined back when he used to daydream about kissing Eddie in Hawkins, when they’d still been circling each other. Watching, waiting, pining.

They let themselves get carried away, hands wandering over sweat-soaked clothes, slipping beneath them and feeling slick skin, neither of them having had a moment to shower or change. Not that they care. They’ve seen, touched, tasted each other like this a hundred times, and to Steve, it’s just one more part of this that feels undeniable. Real.

Eddie’s right hand finds its way into Steve’s hair, gripping just the right amount of tight, while his other hand explores the skin beneath Steve’s tank top. His fingers skim along the waistband of Steve’s pants, light and teasing, and it’s maddening how much Steve wants him to dive deeper, to put those skilled fingers to use. Steve’s own hands are busy, shoved down the back pockets of Eddie’s nearly scandalous leather pants, kneading the flesh beneath as he pulls Eddie even closer.

It’s only when Eddie slips a leg between Steve’s spread ones, his thigh pressing deliciously against him, that Steve feels his knees go weak. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth takes what feels like Herculean strength, and he only just manages to break the kiss, his forehead pressed to his boyfriend’s as they both pant, breaths coming in heavy and warm. The sound is loud enough to almost drown out the creaking of someone shifting in an old chair nearby.

That’s when Steve remembers they’re not alone in the room.

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager. Steve would be more annoyed if it weren’t for the happy flutter in his chest when Eddie says, “our friends.” An image flashes through his mind, unbidden—Dustin, animated and in charge, leading a round of their fantasy game, the same one Eddie used to lead. Steve remembers watching, his heart aching like an open wound, because by then, Eddie had been gone for three months.

Steve had let him go.

Eddie had asked Steve to come with him, his head on Steve’s chest as they lay tangled in Eddie’s bed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go, Stevie. This town is killing me. But I don’t want to go without you. Please, come with me. Let us be free together.”

But Steve had said no. He'd told himself it was for the kids, that they needed someone to stay and look after them. But deep down he knew that wasn't the real reason. At least not the whole reason. He didn't say no because he didn't want to go with Eddie, but because he wanted it too much. Wanting things, wanting people too much had left its mark, and some of those scars still ached some days, worse than his physical ones, the phantom pain of a broken heart and shattered dreams. Eddie had asked him why, his voice trembling, and Steve had lied, making Eddie believe there was nothing between them that warranted uprooting his whole life. It was the only way to set Eddie free, even if it meant breaking both their hearts. His own fears and insecurities were not going to be the thing that stopped Eddie from making his own dreams come true.

“I think I was telling you about the show,” Eddie says, breaking Steve from the painful memory with a grin. “What’d you think, Stevie? Rockstar-worthy?”

The question brings him back, though the ache of the past lingers in his chest. His voice is quieter, more earnest than he intended. “More than that. I always knew you were born for this, Eds. That people should hear your stories, see you, and the wonder you are.”

He knows he’s gone too deep, missed the playful mark by a mile. But Eddie, who’s all brashness and boldness on the surface, can read Steve better than anyone. Sensing the shift, he meets Steve’s gaze with a softness that’s rare and achingly sincere.

“I only ever needed one person to see me, Stevie.”

Now, Steve believes Eddie. It hadn’t always been like that, though. He’d struggled to accept that Eddie truly wanted him—Steve Harrington, the guy who’d peaked in high school, who didn’t have much to show now that the world wasn’t ending and no one needed him to swing his nail-studded bat, or throw himself between monsters and the people he loved.

His doubts had almost cost him the chance to be loved the way he’d always dreamed.

Gazing into Eddie’s warm, dark eyes, filled with so much love and sincerity it almost hurt to look at, Steve decided to push down the strange wave of melancholy that had crept over him. Eddie was here, they were here, and Steve wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about the past and the what-ifs. He’d focus instead on showing Eddie just how rockstar-worthy he truly was.

“Is that so?” Steve asks, his tone coy as he ducks his head just enough to look up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. His fingers trail slowly up Eddie’s stomach and chest, and with his voice dropping to a low, inviting register, he murmurs, “What if he wants to see more of you?”

Eddie searches his face, the shift in mood not lost on him. For a moment, it looks like he’s deciding whether to let Steve get away with it or press him about the strange melancholy that had surfaced just moments ago. But then a slow smile spreads across those full lips, and Steve feels the thrill of Eddie giving in.

“Mmm,” Eddie muses aloud, his gaze mischievous. “I think he’ll have to wait for that. Earn it, really.”

“How?” Steve asks, his voice barely more than a breath, eager and completely captivated.

Eddie leans in, nosing his way along the line of Steve’s jaw until he reaches his ear. “Be a good boy, of course.”

A shiver ripples through Steve’s body, though he couldn’t say if it’s from Eddie’s warm breath on that sensitive patch of skin or from the words themselves.

Steve’s breath hitches, and he fights to keep his composure, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And if I’m not?” he teases, his voice low but challenging, tilting his head to give Eddie even better access to his neck.

Eddie chuckles, his lips ghosting just below Steve’s ear. “Then I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge here,” he murmurs, voice warm and rough, a promise wrapped in mischief.

Steve lets out a shaky laugh, his fingers curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Guess I’ll have to be extra good, then,” he replies, his tone daring but with that undeniable note of surrender only Eddie could pull from him.

The sharp nip of Eddie’s teeth sinking into the tender skin just above Steve’s pulse point quickly gives way to pleasure as his tongue soothes over the bite. “That’s right,” Eddie murmurs against the spit-slick skin, his voice low and warm. “So be a good boy and lay down on that amp you oh-so-helpfully carried in here.”

It takes Steve a beat to process, his brain a little scrambled from the emotional whiplash of the past few moments—pride, love, possessiveness, melancholy, lust, and back to love, all tumbling through him. He blinks up at Eddie, parsing out the command, and Eddie arches an eyebrow, giving the amp a pointed look.

With a playful bite of his lower lip, Steve nods and, after stealing one more quick kiss, saunters over, hips swaying just enough to make Eddie’s gaze darken. The back-and-forth between them is new to Steve, something he never had with the girls he dated before, this easy way they can trade roles, each giving and taking as they like, slipping between comfort and thrill with ease.

Right now, Steve’s perfectly ready to take whatever Eddie has in mind.

The amp’s just high enough that he doesn’t have to contort too much to lie on it, bracing his upper body on his forearms comfortably. Not exactly nap material, but he isn’t here to relax. It lets him tilt his hips, though, and he pushes his ass out in invitation, casting a look over his shoulder to find Eddie watching him with wide, hungry eyes, his hand pressed firmly against himself.

“You wanna take a picture?” Steve teases, wiggling his ass with a grin. “Or are you finally gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

Eddie’s startled laugh echoes in the empty room, and Steve’s grin widens, his heart racing at how fun it is to let loose with Eddie like this.

At last Eddie moves, taking off his leather jacket before closing the distance between them, and his hands settle on Steve's hips, firm and possessive. “Oh, I’m definitely putting my mouth somewhere, princess.”

With a teasing slowness, Eddie’s hands slide from Steve’s hips around to his front, fingers working open the button on his cargo pants. He takes his time, drawing out each motion—the button popping, the zipper sliding down, every small movement building up the anticipation until the air between them practically hums. Bit by bit, Eddie tugs Steve’s pants and underwear down over his hips, savoring every inch of skin he exposes to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Steve’s patience frays fast, and with a breathless whine, he finally mutters, “Eddie, come on.”

Eddie just chuckles, then nips at the small heart-shaped tattoo on Steve's left buttock. While Eddie's body is littered with black ink, this is Steve's only one so far. Eddie had talked Steve into it when he came with him to get the Phoenix tattooed on his left arm. “I’m unwrapping my favorite present here, babe. Gotta savor it.”

Steve barely has time to roll his eyes before Eddie’s mouth descends once again, and this time it’s warm lips and tongue tracing a slow line along the curve of his lower back, licking up the faint sheen of sweat gathered there. The heat of Eddie’s mouth steals the words right from him, and instead a rough “Fuck” slips out, loud and unfiltered.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sounding downright smug. “But first? I’m treating myself to a sweet little appetizer.”

Steve finds out exactly what Eddie means when his tongue dips lower, slipping between his cheeks with a slow, tantalizing precision. His pants are still bunched around his upper thighs, limiting his movement, but as always, Eddie makes the most of the space he has.

The heat of Eddie’s tongue leaves a burning trail down his skin, edging closer to where Steve wants him most, while Eddie’s hands grip his hips and pull up his tank top, his hold firm and anchoring, as if grounding them both in the pleasure building between them. But just as Steve expects Eddie to go further, he pulls back, taking his time sliding Steve’s pants all the way off, leaving him bare from the waist down.

“God, would you look at this? Fuck, I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Eddie mutters, his voice thick with reverence. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson gets to have the most gorgeous guy in the world. Part of me wishes I could show you off to everyone right now, do this to you up on stage, so they’d know exactly how lucky I am.”

The thought sends a thrill through Steve—a fantasy he’s toyed with more than once. It’s one of those ideas they’ll never act on, but one that he loves to imagine just the same.

“But hey, this is the next best thing,” Eddie continues, still kneeling behind him, his hands sliding up Steve’s legs, fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “Right here, where anyone could walk in, could see you with your ass up like this for me. And they’d be so damn jealous. But they don’t get you—you’re mine, just like I’m yours.”

As if sealing his words, Eddie spreads him open and lets a warm trail of saliva slide down, glistening as it slips toward his entrance. Steve can’t see him from this angle, but he can feel Eddie’s gaze, heavy and possessive, just before he leans back in, his tongue pressing deep, the metal of his piercing gracing the sensitive skin of his entrance, sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.

Steve feels like he’s going out of his mind, the way Eddie holds him down, keeping his hips pinned firmly in place, letting Steve have only as much as he’s willing to give. It’s torture—he wants to push back, to make Eddie’s tongue delve deeper, faster. But Eddie’s having none of it. For all his usual impatience and impulsiveness, in moments like this, Eddie becomes a master of restraint, driving Steve up the wall with it.

It’s infuriating. It’s maddening. It’s also the single hottest thing Steve’s ever experienced.

His breathing is rough, coming in shallow pants that mix with the filthy, wet sounds filling the room as he loses himself in the relentless, almost lazy pace Eddie keeps. Eddie’s tongue teases, sliding in with agonizing slowness, while his content, low hums add a pulse of heat through Steve’s body. Eddie pauses now and then to add more spit, until Steve’s slick, almost dripping, every nerve thrumming with need.

“Edd-die,” he gasps, his voice thin with desperation, almost lost beneath the steady, obscene rhythm. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s shamelessly begging now, but doesn’t care. Eddie lives to hear him beg, and maybe, just maybe, Steve can get what he wants, too.

Eddie chuckles low, his tone one of pure satisfaction. “Please what, my love?”

Of course, he’d make Steve say it. Typical. Alright then, two can play this game, Steve thinks and decides to see just how steady Eddie’s self-control really is.

“Please,” he says, his tone turning breathy, edging into desperate pleading. “Please, give me that thick cock. Fill me so deep I can taste it. Make me take it, make me yours. Make me forget everything—everyone—but you, fucking me so good.”

Eddie growls, the sound low and guttural, and Steve smirks, triumphant.

Checkmate.

A finger suddenly presses at his entrance, sliding in easily where he’s already loose and wet from Eddie’s mouth and tongue. Steve arches back, pushing onto the finger, forcing it deeper with a groan that earns him a low chuckle.

“So greedy,” Eddie murmurs, his voice thick with approval as he works his finger in and out with a steady rhythm. Soon, he adds a second finger, stretching him open, sliding in with only the slightest resistance. There’s a slow burn, one he welcomes, letting it remind him how real this all is.

“Look at you,” Eddie muses, voice dark and low. “So needy, taking it so well. I wanted to take my time with you tonight—take you apart, bit by bit, until you were wrecked.” He pauses, letting his fingers curl inside. “But you just wouldn’t let me, huh?”

Steve shudders, Eddie’s words digging deeper than his touch, leaving him desperate and tingling all over. Eddie’s tone is playful, a tease threaded with adoration, and Steve knows he’s on the edge of getting everything he wants, even if Eddie just can’t resist drawing it out. Clenching down on Eddie’s fingers, he says with a challenging grin, “There’s lube in my pocket. Right side.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, his fingers stilling just for a moment before he drops his forehead onto the small of Steve’s back with a heartfelt groan. “You’ll be the death of me, Stevie. God, I love you.”

Steve laughs, even as his voice comes out shaky. “I love you, too. Now, would you please hurry up and fuck me already before I die of old age?”

Eddie’s laugh vibrates against his spine as he reaches down and into Steve’s pocket, retrieving the lube with a triumphant little sound. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. I’m about to make sure every second counts.”

Steve is counting on it.

He watches as Eddie tears open the corner of the small lube satchel with his teeth, his other hand still buried deep inside Steve. Their eyes lock, and Eddie throws him a cheeky wink before drizzling the cool liquid directly over where his fingers are working him open. The sharp contrast of the chill against his heated skin sends a shiver racing up Steve’s spine.

Eddie spreads the lube with practiced ease, his thumb joining in to work it deeper. His movements are confident, deliberate, and Steve can’t help but marvel at how well they’ve come to know each other’s bodies. He thinks back to their first time: the fumbling hands, lube smeared everywhere, hesitant stops and whispered reassurances, mixed with laughter and tender kisses. Now, there’s a rhythm between them, a deep familiarity that doesn’t dull the edge of excitement but makes it sweeter, more profound.

Steve’s awareness narrows to the sensation of Eddie’s fingers stroking inside him, teasing just right. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mouth and tongue explore every inch of skin they can reach, leaving trails of wet heat in their wake. Time becomes meaningless, and Steve lets go completely, unbothered by the sounds spilling from his lips or how desperately he’s moving into Eddie’s touch. He’s pliant, undone, surrendering himself fully to the moment.

And then, suddenly, Eddie’s fingers withdraw. Steve lets out a whine of protest, his body already aching for more.

Placing a soothing kiss over Steve’s heart tattoo, Eddie murmurs, “Shhh, sweetheart, I’m just giving you what you want.”

Anticipation coils tight in Steve’s belly as the emptiness makes him hyper-aware of every nerve ending. Seconds stretch into agonizing hours before he feels the thick head of Eddie’s cock pressing against his slick entrance.

“Ready, love?” Eddie asks, his voice low and warm.

“Please,” Steve breathes, his entire body taut with need.

Eddie doesn’t waste another moment. He pushes in slowly, steadily, until his hips are flush against Steve’s. Even with the careful preparation and Steve’s eagerness, it’s still a lot, and he sucks in a sharp breath, needing a moment to adjust. Sensing this, Eddie stills, his hand sliding forward to find Steve’s. He intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently, a silent reminder that they’re in this together.

A bead of sweat trickles down Steve’s temple as he exhales deliberately, forcing his body to relax. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in return, grounding himself in the connection.

“I’m ready,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You can move.”

Months ago, Eddie might have asked again, just to be sure, but now he trusts Steve’s word implicitly. He responds with a reassuring squeeze to Steve’s hip before pulling out almost entirely and sinking back in just as slowly. The deliberate drag of Eddie’s cock has Steve’s nerves sparking like live wires, every inch of the stretch intense and maddeningly good.

Steve lifts their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. His voice comes out wrecked, raw with need.

“Faster,” he pleads, his breath hitching. “Please.”

As much as Eddie loves to tease, drawing out both their pleasure until Steve feels like he’s teetering on the edge of madness, he loves giving Steve what he wants even more. And tonight, Steve has been a very good boy—just like Eddie had asked. So when Eddie withdraws again only to slam back in without hesitation, setting a relentless pace, Steve knows this is his reward.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” Eddie mutters, his voice hoarse and awestruck.

The question isn’t meant to be answered, and Steve is far too gone to respond anyway. Instead, he pushes back into every thrust, letting the intense, repeated sensation of Eddie filling him wipe away any semblance of coherent thought. His cock hangs heavy and aching, no doubt dripping pre-cum onto the floor beneath them. For a fleeting moment, a hysterical image pops into his head: one of them slipping in it, both crashing down, stark naked.

But then Eddie’s next thrust slams right into his prostate, obliterating the thought entirely. What escapes Steve’s lips isn’t laughter but a long, shameless moan.

“There—fuck, there,” he gasps, his voice raw with need, urging Eddie to do it again.

Eddie doesn’t disappoint. Now that he’s found the perfect angle, his thrusts hit that spot with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure coursing through Steve’s body. Each impact wrings high-pitched, breathless ah, ah, ahs from him as he clings to the amp for stability, every muscle taut and trembling. The pleasure is building fast, a searing heat that coils tight in his belly, but it’s not enough.

Steve’s cock pulses painfully, desperate for attention, but he can’t reach it. His arms are trapped beneath him, and trying to shift even a fraction risks toppling them both. The need is maddening, almost unbearable, and his whimpers grow louder as frustration mixes with the overwhelming stimulation.

When the constant onslaught skirts the edge of too much, his moans turn to pleading whines, raw and vulnerable. He’s close, so close, but he needs just a little more.

“Shhh,” Eddie coos, slowing his thrusts as his hand rubs soothing circles over Steve’s back. “What is it, baby?”

The change in pace gives Steve a reprieve from the relentless pounding against his prostate. He sags forward, caught in the strange limbo of both relief and frustration, his need to come still burning hot and bright in his groin.

“I’m so close, but I need…” he trails off, his voice cracking with emotion. The sound mortifies him, and the tears edging into his tone threaten to spill over. Eddie stills entirely, his concern immediate.

“What do you need? I’ll give you everything, love, anything you want.” Before Steve can manage a response, Eddie drapes himself over his back, the weight of him grounding, the motion pushing him deeper inside. His lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear, and he whispers, “You need my hand? Want me to touch that pretty cock of yours, gorgeous?”

Steve lets out a soft, desperate whine, his body trembling. It’s all the answer Eddie needs.

Eddie’s arm snakes around Steve’s chest, his palm resting gently against his throat—not squeezing, just holding, steadying him. His other hand slides down and wraps around Steve’s aching cock. Steve shudders at the first firm stroke, the slickness of pre-cum making each movement smooth and electric.

“I—I won’t last long,” Steve manages, his voice wrecked as the coil in his belly winds tighter with each pump of Eddie’s hand.

Eddie nips at Steve’s earlobe, his voice rough with lust. “Don’t worry, baby. Me neither. I’ve been on edge since you walked in carrying that stupid amp, wearing that indecent outfit, showing off those arms like some kind of wet dream.”

Despite the intensity of the moment, Steve laughs, the motion jolting Eddie’s cock inside him. He clenches involuntarily, drawing a deep moan from Eddie that vibrates against his skin. “What the hell is indecent about a black tank top and cargo pants?”

“You wearing them.” Eddie’s tone is all duh, and it sends another wave of laughter spilling from Steve’s lips.

“You fucking sap,” Steve teases, the love in his voice unmistakable.

“Oh no, you’re fucking a sap, sweetheart,” Eddie shoots back, his cheekiness undiminished. “Now, how about you take what you need, huh? Fuck yourself on my cock, use my hand while you’re at it.”

Only Eddie could turn cheesy banter into something this hot, and Steve has no intention of arguing.

With Eddie’s arm propping him up, Steve finds just enough leverage to move. He thrusts forward into Eddie’s hand, the tight circle of his boyfriend’s fingers sparking pleasure through him, before shifting back to impale himself again. He angles his hips, seeking that perfect spot, brushing it just enough to send sparks shooting up his spine. Combined with the steady friction of Eddie’s hand, it’s almost too much to bear.

The improvised rhythm of his movements grows frantic as he races toward the edge. Behind him, Eddie’s breaths come hot and fast against his neck, and his grip tightens, keeping Steve grounded even as he comes undone.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” Eddie pants, his voice raw with emotion and lust. “Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy alive. I love you so much.”

Trust Eddie to pour his heart out in the middle of this. And trust Steve to have those words be what finally pushes him over the edge.

Steve’s orgasm tears through him like a wildfire, leaving him shaking and breathless. It feels like it goes on forever, each wave dragging him deeper into a blissful haze until his legs threaten to buckle beneath him. Eddie’s arms tighten around him, steadying him as he continues thrusting, fucking Steve through his release, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

When the high begins to fade, Steve’s nerves flare with overstimulation. Eddie’s movements, once perfect, now teeter on the edge of too much. A shudder ripples through Steve, a mix of cooling sweat and discomfort making him tremble.

Eddie stills immediately, in tune with him as always. “Want me to pull out?” he asks softly. “I can finish in my hand. Two pulls, max.” His voice is gentle, full of love and concern, and it makes Steve’s heart ache in the best way.

“No,” Steve murmurs, voice still shaky. “I want to feel it. Want to know I’m yours—wet and dripping with your cum while we walk to the car.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie groans, his hips twitching involuntarily.

“Come on, baby,” Steve encourages, voice husky and teasing. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

That’s all Eddie needs. He grips Steve tighter, hauling him upright so their bodies are flush. His chest presses against Steve’s back, his arm locks around Steve’s waist, and he moves with renewed intensity. Eddie’s hips snap against him, each thrust urgent, driven by need and love. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, grunting and panting, entirely lost in the moment.

It doesn’t take long. Eddie’s rhythm falters, his breath catching. “Fuck, Steve—fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, voice breaking as he spills inside him, warmth flooding between them.

They collapse together, Steve barely catching himself on trembling arms before he face-plants into the amp. Eddie slumps against him, muttering a soft, “Sorry—can’t feel my legs.”

Steve bursts into laughter, his body shaking with it. Eddie joins in moments later, his laugh raspy and infectious. The movement dislodges Eddie’s softening cock, and Steve grimaces at the inevitable sensation of cum leaking out. It’s a mess, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

After a few beats of shared laughter and steadying breaths, Eddie peels off his own shirt, using it to clean them both.

“You’ll get cold,” Steve says, voice softer now, even as he leans into Eddie’s tender touches.

“I’ve got you to keep me warm, don’t I?” Eddie quips with a grin.

“Only if you cuddle me first,” Steve counters, mock-serious. “You can’t just use me for my body heat. I have standards, you know.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a chuckle, pulling Steve into his arms and leading them toward the worn couch in the corner of the room. They sink down together, Eddie sprawling on his back with Steve sprawled across him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

They continue to lay there, tangled together in the lazy, sated warmth of post-coital bliss. Steve is already half-asleep, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat and the gentle stroke of his fingers through Steve’s hair. Eddie presses a kiss to his temple, a smile tugging at his lips as he breaks the comfortable silence.

“So,” Eddie begins, his voice soft, curious, “you gonna tell me what had you in such a weird mood earlier?”

Steve hums, the sound vibrating through Eddie’s chest. He considers brushing it off, but Eddie’s been patient, and he deserves the truth. “Got an invitation from Dustin and the kids,” Steve says finally. “To their graduation. It’s for both of us, actually.”

Eddie stills, his hand pausing mid-stroke. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice low. “Made me think about stuff, I guess. Like… leaving Hawkins. Leaving them.” He tilts his head to look up at Eddie, his expression thoughtful. “And whether I regret it.”

Eddie’s breath catches, his hand resuming its motion in Steve’s hair as he braces himself for Steve’s answer. “Do you?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “No. Not even for a second.” He shifts so he can meet Eddie’s eyes fully, a soft smile curving his lips. “If anything, I’m grateful Dustin kicked my ass into following you. The little shit was right—they’re fine without me. But I’m not sure I’d have been okay if I stayed.”

Steve sits up slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Eddie’s chest, tracing tattoos and scars alike. “I’ve been thinking about how lucky I am. That I’m here. With you. That it all worked out the way it did.”

Eddie blinks, his throat working as he processes Steve’s words. “You’re not the only one who got lucky, Stevie,” he says, his voice tinged with raw honesty. “Leaving without you broke me. Felt like I’d left my heart in Hawkins while the rest of me moved to LA. The day you showed up? It was like the last puzzle piece finally slid into place. Like the universe had been holding its breath, waiting for us to figure it out.”

Steve’s smile widens, his hand cupping Eddie’s jaw as he leans up to press a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words soft but fierce, carrying every ounce of emotion he feels.

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies, his voice steady and sure, as if he’s been waiting his whole life to say it.

They settle back into each other’s arms, the greenroom quiet save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sounds of the venue being cleaned up. The world outside feels a million miles away, and for now, that’s exactly where it can stay.

Here, with Eddie, Steve is home.

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fic #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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crimson-and-clover-1717 · 30 days ago

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The Erasing of Ed’s Personhood (again).

Some interpretations of Stede and Izzy during the Rhys and Con Q&A at SFROP didn’t sit well with me.

There’s sexual frisson between Stede and Izzy in the candle scene

What canon shows: That Stede flatters Izzy into mentoring him in a similar way Ed uses flattery in 104 when telling Izzy he could be the Captain of the Revenge. It’s knowing your audience and what motivates them. But this isn’t flirting on Stede’s part. It’s emotionally intelligent leadership.

This alleged sexual frisson takes place immediately after Stede has found Ed, the love of his life, whom he has been desperately trying to find for months. For whom he has willingly given everything up. Stede cannot see another man for Ed. Stede’s whole love and sexual awakening is built around Ed. He’s Ed-emotional, Ed-sexual.

And we’re meant to believe the moment Stede is out of Ed’s presence - Ed, who has massive trust issues - that there’s a mutual homoerotic moment between Stede and Izzy, because Izzy has his shirt off and Stede says some dubiously flattering things? It’s reductive towards Ed and mocking of his character. It’s actually an incredibly cruel interpretation. It isn’t the show. It. just. isn’t. the. show.

Izzy is a good mentor to Stede

What canon shows: Stede ‘being the captain’ by asking Izzy to mentor him. Stede is putting into practice ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ by trying to give Izzy a role. The devil makes work for idle Izzy Hands, so keep him busy. But punching someone in the stomach, yelling at them, and telling them they have such a total lack of skills you don’t know how they’re still alive… when they rescued your sorry ass two nights previous!…does not a mentor make. And Stede doesn’t learn anything useful really. I mean at least he learned something that saved his life with Ed even if it was through flirting. The fact Stede also seems to enjoy some of Izzy’s approval doesn’t make Izzy a good mentor either. It makes Stede someone who is still wrestling with his identity, and reconciling differing aspects of his masculinity. Stede’s parental trauma causes him to attach too much significance to it.

That Stede and Izzy caused Ed’s decline and have equal responsibility for fixing the man they both love (this one boiled my piss).

What canon shows: Ed is devastated by Stede not turning up at the dock. Ed then processes some of this in a reasonably healthy way — curling up under blankets, eating marmalade, writing doggerel, talking to a friend, crying, showing pain publicly, exploring shared feelings, making a plan to feel better through art (singing), and tidying up his room. Ed is attempting to put into practice Stede’s philosophy: beauty, aestheticism, art as therapy, open emotions, talking it through.

We can’t know what would’ve happened next because the narrative doesn’t bend that way, but without Izzy’s intervention, what Ed doesn’t do is fall into the Kraken spiral. Ed is pretty much forced to a shuddering emotional halt, mid-catharsis - that in itself causes further trauma. Many therapists will tell you that stopping emotional work suddenly can be worse than never beginning at all. On top of that suppression, Ed now fears harm might be done to him should he appear weak. To say Stede and Izzy are equally responsible for Ed’s Kraken spiral is just not true.

Second, Ed isn’t an object to be fixed. Ed isn’t something to be moulded or unfolded. Ed isn’t the exotic plaything of two white men. Ed isn’t a toy or cipher or prize to be won between a bourgeois hero and some proletariat antagonist. Ed really just needs to be left the fuck alone so he can develop some self-actualisation. Let him try his innkeeper dream and fail. Let him see the world doesn’t end when he does. I truly believe Stede is the only individual who can give Ed the room and psychological safety to explore a range of human emotion and identities, as well as providing that soft place to fall when Ed inevitably needs it. And it isn’t even that Ed needs to fix himself. He just needs to be allowed to breathe and be and exist in all his human messiness, judgment-free, fear-free.

That Stede’s crying as Izzy dies shows how much he has grown to care about Izzy, that there is mutual respect, and Stede is left devastated.

What canon shows: That Stede CRIES! He cries all of the time. And I have championed this over and over. He cries in 13/18 episodes. He makes it safe for others to cry. Crying is Stede’s superpower. It helps him process emotions healthily. Stede, I believe, is crying when Izzy dies for the following reasons:

Because he’s Stede

Because he’s the Captain and he didn’t get everyone out alive (doesn’t matter the great Israel Hands can’t check a pocket for weapons).

Because Ed is devastated, and Stede loves Ed

Because Stede isn’t a colossal prick. He says ‘poor bugger’ towards Chauncey moments after escaping execution. Stede’s an empath. Stede understands the pity of it all. Stede can see the intrinsic value in most people, even Izzy. That doesn’t tell me anything about Izzy, but everything about Stede. And it doesn’t make Izzy special to Stede. It makes humans special to Stede.

Why these misinterpretations upset me so much is what it does to the validity of Ed’s characterisation. The idea there’s a sexual ‘knowing’ behind Ed’s back between the two white guys which they choose not to act upon because they decide to work together to objectify and ‘fix Ed’ instead. The idea that Izzy is a better mentor and influence than Ed. The objectification of Ed as a thing to be fixed then won. The appropriation of Ed’s emotional confusion over Izzy’s death being overlaid onto Stede also. Because Ed can’t have his own unique character arc in anything it seems. I just want Ed’s characterisation and personhood to stop being erased.

I’m still sleep-deprived so I hope this makes sense. It’s taken me a while to process.

#stede bonnet #ed teach #stop erasing ed #izzy critical #canon is what matters #it has to make sense within the narrative #it’s the Ed and Stede show!#sfrop #the republic of pirates convention #ofmd

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daddy-dotcom · 1 year ago

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The Visit

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Things aren’t looking good for Spencer after his visit to Mexico. So you decide to prepare for the worst, and you knew getting married was the only surefire way to stay connected while he was locked up.

Rating: M

Words: 5,333

Warnings: Language, typical canon violence, smut (fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex)

*Disclaimer: Major inaccuracies for how the American prison system works lol*

TL;DR: Spencer and Reader get married so that they can have conjugal visits while he's in prison.

__________________________________________

I couldn’t bear to see him like this. Even worse, I couldnt bear to not be able to hold him and tell him everything was okay. Seeing him behind bars, alone, was enough to make me fight back tears. I’ve seen him hurt before, but this was different. It was almost as if I were staring at the ghost of Spencer Reid. I knew going to Mexico to get his mother’s medication was risky, but I had no idea that he’d end up in this much trouble. I should have stopped him. I should have gone with him. But no matter how guilty I was feeling, the damage was already done. With no concrete evidence that he was framed, it looked like Spencer was most likely going to be found guilty for murder. The love of my life was going to prison and I was completely helpless in the situation. At least I thought I was. . .until an idea struck me. An insane idea, and somewhat of a long shot, but an idea nonetheless, some small way to help Spencer keep his sanity while he was locked up. I wasn’t sure if he would go for it, but I had to try.

“hey, Spence,” I said with my face pressed against the cool metal of the bars.

“hi, (Y/N)” he said with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“you’re looking more like yourself, baby. And they’re letting you come home with us on the jet.”

He slowly nodded his head in agreement, unsure of what else to say. For a man who typically had so much to say, it was eerie to be in such a silent room.

It’s now or never.

“So Spence, you know I was thinking, in case the…the unthinkable happens, and you aren’t acquitted…” I was fighting back the tears, trying to get my idea across,

“…maybe we should…I think it might be a good idea if we…get married?”

He immediately looked up to meet my gaze, looking more alive than he has the entire time we’ve been in Mexico.

“Married?” he said softly.

“Well it would only be so I can visit you, Spence. I mean like visit you visit you, without all the guards watching us and in a place where I can actually hold you and spend more time with you. Hell, I can’t even hug you for more than a couple seconds during a regular visit”

I could see the gears turning in his mind, something I’ve seen a million times, but I couldn’t tell if he was actually considering my offer.

“It’s been a year Spence, it’s not like we haven’t talked about it.”

It’s true. We’ve been dating for over a year now, and we’ve both made it clear that we’d like to marry each other some day. But we never imagined it would be this soon and under these circumstances.

Spencer got up from the bench he’d been sitting on and came over to hold my hand through the bars.

“Even if I weren’t facing prison time…it would be an absolute honor to marry you, (Y/N)”

All of the tension in my body melted away now that I knew he was on board with my proposition. I gave him a warm smile as he gently cupped my face in his hands. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead and held onto my hand before getting down on one knee.

“If we’re going to do this, I’d at least like to propose to you properly,” he said, with as much of a smile as he could muster.

“(YFN/YLN), will you marry me?” he asked.

The dam finally broke and I couldn’t fight back the tears any longer. They began to stream down my face as I let out a firm and resounding “Yes.”

______________________________

I was practically squirming in my seat on the plane ride home. It was almost impossible to keep this secret and it took everything I had not to blurt out our plan. I knew that I had to tell them soon, since we were going to need their help to make this happen. With a deep breath, I pulled Spencer up from our seats and marched over to the rest of the team.

“Guys, Spencer and I have an announcement to make,”

“Oh my god you’re not pregnant, are you?” said JJ.

“No! No, it’s not that,” I replied, I hesitated before dropping the bomb.

“Spencer and I are getting married.”

Prentiss and JJ exchanged a confused look while Alvez’s mouth hung open in shock. Rossi, however, seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“Oh I get it, you two want to get married so that (Y/N) can request ‘family visits.’” The implications of putting the word ‘family visits’ in airquotes was not lost on me. “You all might of heard of what they used to call them back in the day: conjugal visits.”

“Actually the practice conjugal visits have evolved into a more family oriented experience. Modern family visits usually last the weekend and include children and other family members besides just a spouse.”

“Glad to see you’re almost back to normal, kid” quipped Rossi.

“Well if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need some help. Prentiss, do you have anyone that can meet us at Quantico and marry us on such short notice?” I asked.

“I’m already making the call.”

“Does anyone else think this is just a little bit crazy? There’s a good chance that Spence won’t even go to prison at all,” JJ said.

Alvez snapped out of his daze and interjected.

“I agree, but if Reid and (Y/N) get to spend some alone-time together in the event that he does go, I don’t see the harm. I mean come on, Rossi’s been married like what, five times?”

“Hey, it’s only been three times,” Rossi responded.

“Look, JJ, you would do it for Will, wouldn’t you?”

She paused for a minute, pondering my question.

With a sympathetic look, JJ responded

“of course I would.”

_________________________________

As soon as we landed, we were greeted by Garcia and the court officiant who Prentiss had called on the plane. Garcia nearly tackled us coming out of the elevator, completely overjoyed to see Spencer home in one piece.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re all home safe!” she said squeezing us in a tight embrace.“But I can’t believe I had to find out about your engagement via a text from Alvez!”

“Sorry Penn, it was super last minute,” I said with a shrug.

“I brought you some things while you were on the plane ride home. (Y/N), for you I got a white dress, sorry I had to guess on the size, and Reid I asked your mom’s nurse if it was okay to grab a clean suit from your apartment.”

“Oh Penn, you didn’t have to do all this. Where did you even find a dress on such short notice?”

“Emily’s not the only one with connections sweet cheeks,” she said with a wink.

“Thank you so much, really Penn I appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me, now you and boy-wonder go get dressed so we can get you hitched.”

I took the bag from Penelope and inspected its contents once inside the bathroom. It was a simple but gorgeous white gown. It came down to about my calves, and it had white cap sleeves with a sweetheart neckline.

Classy. The woman has good taste.

I took a deep breath before exiting the stall, and I was greeted by Penelope, Emily, and JJ standing by the sink.

They all turned their heads towards me and gasped before looking me up and down.

“You look absolutely stunning,” said Emily.

“Spence is definitely gonna cry when he sees how gorgeous you look,” added JJ.

The tears had already started streaming down Penelope’s face as she walked over to me and placed one of her bracelets on my wrist.

“There, now you have your something blue,” she said with teary eyes. “You make the most beautiful bride (Y/N)”

“I’d love to stay in here and continue this little bachelorette party but our court official is waiting out there to marry our two lovebirds,” said Emily.

With one final look in the mirror, I took a deep breath and headed out the door, on my way to officially become Mrs. Spencer Reid. The reality of marriage hadn't hit me until just now. Who can blame me? I'd only become someone's fiancé about 5 hours ago. My palms began to sweat as my priorities shifted towards my impending marriage. Even if I wasn't ready, it was my idea in the first place and I intended to keep my end of the bargain. I, however, was more worried about Spencer. What if he was having second thoughts? I barely brought the idea up to him a few hours ago, and he was coming off of drugs in a Mexican jail cell when he agreed. Just as I was begging to spiral, a hand grazed the side of my waist and Spencer appeared. He cleaned up surprisingly well given the circumstances, looking incredibly handsome in his suit.

"Nervous?" he asked. As a profiler and a genius, there was no way I was going to be able to conceal my nerves from him.

"Spence, don't you know you're not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony?" I joked.

"(Y/N), you know I don't believe in superstitions," he said wryly.

"But yes, I am little nervous, mostly because I was afraid you might be having second thoughts."

He smiled warmly, the same way he had done when he agreed to marry me earlier in the day.

"Living in Vegas, and working with Rossi, I've known quite a bit of people who've gotten married on a whim. While it might be a little sooner than we thought, it's giving me a chance to hold you close in case I..." his voice began to crack and I could see his eyes welling up, "...in case I get taken into custody. But trust me, (Y/N), there was never a doubt in my mind about marrying you, especially now that I'm seeing how beautiful you look in a wedding dress."

I was tearing up too, at this point, for about the fifth time today. I took both of his hands in mine and simply said "I love you Spence,"

"I love you too, (Y/N)."

____________________________________________

We walked hand in hand into the briefing room where everyone was waiting anxiously for us and Spencer and I took our place across from each other in front of the court official. We joined hands once more and I could see Penelope shoot me a thumbs while Alvez gave Spence a reassuring pat on the back. The official began to speak which caused my heart to practically beat out of my chest.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight to join this man and this woman in matrimony."

He turns toward Spencer before speaking again.

“Spencer, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do” he said while maintaining my gaze. I could see tears start to form in the corners of his eyes, causing my eyes to well up too. But I couldn’t cry, because if I started now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“(Y/N), do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do,” I manage to say with a lump forming in my throat.

The court official turns back to Spencer and asks him to repeat after him.

"I, Spencer Reid, take you (Y/N), to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,” I could hear his voice start to crack as he fought back more tears, “in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

He said this with such conviction that there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to marry this man. I’d never seen his eyes so full of love before. It was those kind eyes looking back at me that turned one of the worst days into the happiest day of my life. Now, it was my turn to recite my vows and officially become Mrs. Reid.

“I, (YFN/YLN), take you, Spencer Reid, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

It took everything in my power not to become a blubbering mess during my vows. Penelope, however, had no problem letting the tears flow freely down her rosy pink cheeks.

"By virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The court official gave a small smile before turning to Spencer and saying “you may kiss the bride."

Spencer wasted no time moving his hands to sit comfortably on my hips and I pulled his face in close for a kiss. This was something we’d done a million times before, but never for an audience. As soon as his lips touched mine, however, it felt as if we were the only two people in the room. All the exhaustion, pain, and suffering from the events of Mexico seemed to melt away as we kissed. He continued to press his lips more forcefully against mine and I could feel the slightest brush of his tongue before a voice spoke up from the crowd.

“Alright you two save it for the honeymoon,” Rossi joked.

We slowly pulled away and both our our cheeks began to blush like teenagers who’d just been caught by their parents. One by one, our team members came over to congratulate us and Penelope and JJ wanted a million pictures. We spent the rest of our night talking, laughing, and even dancing with our team members, just happy to find joy in this moment of darkness. Little did we know, Mexico was only the beginning of our troubles.

________________________________

Our wedding celebrations were cut short with the announcement that the FBI would not be legally representing Spencer since he broke protocol and didn’t inform them of his trip to Mexico. Once he went to trial, we still had no concrete evidence that he was framed, and his DNA was found on the murder weapon. Our worst nightmare had finally come true. Spencer was taken into custody and and whisked away to prison. A small part of me was grateful that I was now legally his wife, but I still wished that it didn’t have to happen under these circumstances. The day he was taken to prison, I immediately applied to be granted family visits and I begged Prentiss and Alvez to call in every favor they could to get moved up the waitlist. It was going to take a couple of months for Spencer to prove he was behaving in prison, but I could still visit him regularly before then. A couple of weeks after he was taken into custody, he was finally allowed to have visitors, and the team all unanimously agreed that I should be his first one. I wasn’t granted a family visit just yet, but I needed to see his face and finally be able to talk to him.

As I walked into the Millburn Correctional Facility, I was searched, went through a metal detector, and searched again before I was led into a room filled with a long partition and chairs on either side. I found a seat in the corner that had no one on either side of me and waited for Spencer to arrive. I nervously tapped my finger on the table as I anxiously waited to see my husband for the first time since he was taken to prison. I turned my head to see a tall, lanky figure in a white t-shirt and blue pants with a matching blue button up walking towards me. I could see his eyes light up when he spotted me and I could feel my entire being do the same.

“Hi baby,” I said, just happy to finally see him.

“Hi my love,” he replied with a ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. I could tell he was slightly thinner and probably not sleeping well. However, his casual outfit combined with his shaggy hair and the growing stubble on his face somehow made him even more attractive.

“You look good baby, you holding up okay so far?”

“I'm doing okay, given the circumstances. How's my mom? Is she doing alright?"

"She's doing fine actually, Cassie said that she was having a really good day yesterday."

"Where did you, uh, tell her I was?"

"Uh, the beach," I told him with a chuckle, "well she asked if that's where you were and it seemed to make her happy so..."

"Good."

There was a pause and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his gaze. He wasn't breaking eye contact either and I could feel the love behind his stare.

"I, uh, I'm really happy to see you," he said, "I kind of wish you hadn't come, it's uh, not the best idea."

His words hurt slightly, but I knew the state that his mind was in. He didn't want to become a target and he definitely didn't want me to see him like this.

"Sorry Spence, but you're stuck with me," I said with a smile, "you got stuck with me the day you agreed to be my husband. And the last time I saw you, we promised for better or for worse. Besides, this is just the beginning, I've already applied for family visit privileges and we should be getting a date any day now. You don't know how badly I wish I could just hug you, Spence."

I saw him look down, I'm assuming in an attempt to fight back tears, before he spoke again.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I'm so grateful everyday that you're now my wife. But if you're here, that means you're not out working on a case, and I don't want to be a burden."

"That's nonsense Spence, you could never be a burden to me."

"Tell me about the case then, it will help get my mind off... all this."

I proceeded to give him the details of our latest case and I assured him that the rest of the team would be coming by to check in on him and visit him as well. It pained me that I couldn't hug or kiss him goodbye, but I held out hope that it wouldn't be long before I finally could.

While our team members were busy taking turns visiting Spencer in prison, I decided to start writing him letters. Most of them consisted of me catching him up on cases and my personal life, or lack thereof, while others were love letters that expressed just how much I truly missed him. Even though Spencer Reid is a certified genius and an excellent agent, at the end of the day he was still just a man and I knew that the stress that came with being in prison combined with not being able to touch me everyday was likely driving him insane. Luckily, our prayers had been answered and all of the favors from Prentiss and Alvez came through. I finally received a date for my family visit with Spencer, which would be three weeks from now. In the meantime, I began penning a letter to Spencer to tell him the good news. But this wouldn't be one of our typical letters; this letter was going to be much dirtier in nature. I had to admit that I too was starting to feel the effects from the lack of physical contact. So in my letter, I was going to tell him exactly what I wanted to do with him at our "family visit."

_______________________________

The day had finally arrived. Not only was I going to be able to see my husband, I was going to be able to hug him, touch him, hold him, and kiss him…among other things. In all honesty, I was just excited to see him with some semblance of normalcy. I had been researching spousal visits for the past three weeks, and the general consensus was that all of these women were dressing to impress. So I put on my nicest skirt, tight-fitting one that I had previously purchased with the intention of wearing to work but it was slightly too short for the office, and a floral blouse with spaghetti straps that was just low-cut enough to see the top of my cleavage. I paired the outfit with nude stilettos and fixed up my hair and makeup as nicely as I could. While my outfit certainly didn’t leave everything to the imagination, I still had to maintain a certain level of modesty. After all, I was still a federal agent.

The search process for spousal visits was much more intense, so much so that I couldn’t even bring my phone into the room with me. I was, however, allowed to bring books and a chess set for Spencer. I made my way through a longer hallway than the one I had gone through the last time, which led out to a courtyard where a row of temporary buildings sat. I was then escorted into one of the 4 rooms in the building and I was instructed to wait for the guards to bring Spencer in. I sat with my legs crossed on the bed in the middle of the room, which was unsurprisingly bare. The room resembled a somewhat nice motel room, with a kitchenette in one corner, a couch in the other, and a separate bathroom. The only sounds I could hear in the room were the ticking of the clock on the wall and the pounding of my heart in my chest. I wasn't nervous to see my husband, it was actually just the opposite. I was positively inpatient at the thought of finally being able to make physical contact with the love of my life. In an effort to distract myself, I poked around the bedside table, knowing damn well what I was going to find. There were more innocent items in the drawer, like soap and toothpaste, and right next to it were lubricant and condoms. We won't be needing those, I thought to myself with a smirk forming at the corner of my lips. I was startled by a knock at the door and quickly shut the door. I quickly adjusted my top and fixed my hair before replying.

"Come in!"

The door slowly swung open to reveal a handcuff-free Spencer standing in the doorway. He stood frozen in place, looking at me in disbelief that I was actually here. I stood up from my spot on the bed and ran over to give him the biggest hug. I squeezed my arms around his torso and buried my face in his chest. We stood like this for a moment, in the doorway, just familiarizing ourselves with each other once again.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that, Spence."

I finally lifted my head up to get a good look at him while snaking my hands up to cup is face.

"Trust me, I've probably been more desperate to hug you than you have,"

"Oh really?" I asked with raised eyebrows, "you know this isn't a competition right?"

"Oh, I know. But if it was, I would win," he said, with the slightest hint of a playful smirk.

I took Spencer's hand in mine and pulled him over to my spot where I was sitting when he arrived. Our hands stayed connected as we sat side by side on the edge of the bed. While I was admittedly aroused at the thought of finally being able to make love again, all of those thoughts melted away when I finally saw him. Truthfully, I was just happy to spend some quality time with him and give him a break from this awful situation.

"How have you been since the last time I saw you, love?"

"I've been doing okay, mostly trying to keep my head down. I guess you could say I made a friend, though. His name is Calvin Shaw-"

"The agent who killed his informant?!" I exclaimed.

"Well yes, but he's the only one who knows I'm a federal agent and he's been pretty generous. Getting me moved to my own cell, giving me books and playing chess with me."

I gently placed a kiss on his forehead and began to stroke his beautiful veiny hand with my thumb.

"I'm just happy you're not completely alone in there baby"

"I've managed to make some connections, but what's been keeping me going is the thought of seeing you. I've actually been looking forward to this since the last time we spoke. . . and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that letter you sent me."

A wicked smile crept onto my lips as I realized which letter exactly he was referring to.

"Oh that letter! I'm glad you enjoyed it baby, I meant every word. I've been missing you in more ways than one. . ." I said, moving my free hand to his thigh. He inhaled deeply at my touch and his gaze was locked on mine.

"Well you don't have to miss me anymore, love, I'm right here. If we're being honest, I don't think I'll be able to focus on our conversation until I've had my way with you," he said, moving one hand to slide his fingers into my hair. I melted into his touch then I leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"You can have me, baby, any way you want," I replied, trying my best to look up at him with doe eyes.

He forcefully leaned in to place his lips on mine, and now both of his hands were tugging at my hair. This kiss was passionate, but in a way we've never experienced before. Since we've met, we've never spent more than a few days apart. This kiss was different, it was filled with longing and desperation. Months of going without physical contact has finally led to this moment. The moment when dam finally breaks and the sexual tension that's been building in our written correspondence comes to the surface.

One hand stayed pulling my hair while the other made its way to my breast. Equally touch starved, I moved my hand up his thigh to palm the now evident bulge forming in his pants. He hissed in response and I used then opportunity to force my tongue further into his mouth. He began to suck on it and I moaned into him at the feeling. He abruptly moved from my mouth and started working down towards my neck."

"You know," he said, breathlessly, between kisses "after you sent me that letter, I couldn't help myself. I'm lucky I have my own cell, I had to get some relief or else I would've gone insane."

"You're not the only one baby, " I replied in a daze as he continued tome further down my neck, "I would touch myself at night wishing it was your fingers inside of me."

He grunted at my words and buried his face in my breasts.

"You wore this top just for me didn't you?"

"Mhm, just for you."

"I think it's time we see what's underneath," he said as he pulled the shirt swiftly over my head. My lips crashed back into his and I made quick work of undoing the buttons on his shirt. I wasn't used to seeing Spencer in a white t-shirt, so I soaked up the image as best I could before pulling his shirt off and discarding it on the floor.

"You said you missed my fingers, baby?" I sighed a resounding "yes" before he moved his hands up my skirt, barely brushing his fingertips against my panties. I moaned at the contact, and I felt him smirk against my lips before pushing my panties aside and inserting a digit into my wet folds.

"Fuck, Spencer" I groaned as his long fingers stretched inside me.

"You're so tight, love. You really did miss me stretching you out, didn't you?"

"Yes!" I yelled and he began to pump his fingers in and out.

The room filled with the sounds of our moans and Spencer pumping in and out of me. I could feel a familiar pressure tightening in my abdomen, but I needed more of him. I knew he needed me too because I could see his erection straining through his pants. It's almost as if he read my mind because he removed his fingers and placed them in my mouth.

"Fuck, I need you so badly, (Y/N)," he said as I sucked on his fingers.

Not bothering to take off my skirt, I laid back on the bed as he pushed up the fabric and pulled off my panties. He undid his own pants and threw them haphazardly onto the floor along with his underwear. He brushed his fingers along my now exposed cunt, gathering my arousal on his fingertips.

"You're so wet for me baby, it's driving me insane."

He slid his hard length along my pussy, which earned a moan from the both of us before he pushed the tip into me.

"Oh my god, Spence," I whined. He was stretching me out so well since I haven't had him inside me in weeks.

"Baby you're so tight," he said, letting his mouth hang open in pleasure.

"Please, Spence. . .fuck me," I pleaded. He wasted no time and began to give me deep strokes. I moaned at every thrust, which only motivated him to thrust harder and deeper. His pace became relentless as the tip of his length was now hitting my cervix.

"Fuck, Spencer, come for me. I want you to fill me up, baby."

"Anything for you, love," he said, giving me everything he has.

"I want your babies Spencer, please!" I screamed, knowing full well that I was on the pill and that wasn't going to happen. . . yet.

That was all it took for him to spill his load inside of me. We both became moaning messes as he came. Once he was finished, he rolled off of me and ran to the bathroom to help me clean up. I went to pee, and when I returned, Spencer laid his head on my chest and we sat, cuddled in silence, until nightfall. Under the cover of darkness, I could hear quiet sobs coming from Spencer and I felt little drops of tears on my breasts.

"Baby are you okay? What's wrong my love?" I said, raking my hands through his soft wavy locks.

"I don't want to go back in there," he said, like a child, in barely more than a whisper.

"I wish I could stay here with you indefinitely. I wish I never had to sleep apart from you again. I was trying to be strong for you, (Y/N), but it's so much worse than I imagined."

I didn't press him for details, but I couldn't help but begin to cry in sympathy.

"Listen to me, Spence. I can't even being to understand what you're going through, but you are the strongest person I know. I also know that you have a team of people behind you who love you and will stop at nothing to prove you're innocent. Just remember that every time you're lonely or scared, baby. And we'll keep visiting you and sending you letters and books, anything we can do to keep your mind busy."

"Thank you, my love," he said, slowly rising up to plant a kiss on my lips.

"For better or for worse remember?"

"For better or for worse."

He spent the rest of the night lying on my chest as I stroked his hair and lulled him to sleep, avoiding the dread of being separated in the morning for as long as we could.

_________________________________________

AN: Finally finished this fic omg it was a long time coming. But I've been busy in medical assisting school and this one required a lot more research than my previous works lol. But finally happy with the result and please show it some love. Thanks to all my moots for believing in this :)

Taglist:

@reidscaffeine @swaggysagiewagie@v-i-o-l-e-t@louderfortheback

@sadroses98@lauravegann @coldoaftoadzipper-blog@avis-writeshq@inkwriter122 @bitchysweetskitty @cryingoverfelix@whyisitdifferent@namjoonspinkytoenail@thatsonezesty13 @singinghamtaro-blog@abbeyskeff@cassie444

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid fic #mattew gray gubler #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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gayelderstourney · 1 year ago

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OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Irving Bailiff/Burt Goodman:

they are TRAPPED in capitalist dystopian hell and yet gay love persists. literally they are fighting for their got damn lives to be gay. they've been subjected to evil fucked up brain surgery to make them forget who they are outside of the workplace and yet. AND YET. they fall in love INSIDE the workplace and gain the desire to fight their oppressors so they can do old man yaoi activities. i forgot to take my adderall today sorry im not forming coherent thoughts but they made christopher walken yaoi real

They have only ever experienced being at work and are desperately trying to find meaning with no memory of the outside world. Fraternization is against the rules as well. The yearning is so much.

they are 2 sad old men who are in forbidden love. they bond over a mutal love of corporate art & company tote bags. their love inspired Irving to rebel against his employers for the first time ever. Burt is even Christopher Walken.

They’re so quietly sweet and heart-wrenching… fell in love on the ‘inside’ (they both work a job that ‘severs’ their work memories from their out-of-work memories; inside the job, they have no idea who they are on the outside or what the world is like, but they found each other and found a little bit of love and meaning and happiness inside the nightmare corporate world that is their job)

canonically in love with each other! in the show people sever their consciousness so they aren't aware when they're working. this creates a separate person that only exists while they're at the office, who doesn't share any memories with the person they are on the outside. these two old men bond and find comfort in each other despite the dystopian hell situation they're in

Old men having a forbidden romance while stuck in a hellish workplace dystopia

These two old men know nothing outside of their company propaganda, which says romance is forbidden, and they still choose each other. They bond over paintings, discuss company policy in each other's arms like they're debating scripture on whether their love is allowed. They're sooo gay and it's so sweet to see true, canonical old man yaoi

Weird old man office romance except they only exist inside the bounds of the world’s worst office building and they go on a little date to a room full of plastic plants

Ravenpaw/Barley:

kitties who were outcast from previous groups they were a part of and find and live with each other. they are canonical mates even though theyre both dudes. they grow old together, but ravenpaw gets cancer and dies before barley (he lives to be considered old in warrior cats years). however ravenpaw wanted to be in the same kitty afterlife that barley will go to, so they can be together in kitty afterlife. barley is still alive though as far as we know and might be the oldest living cat in the series now. also i just think its funny to call little kitty cats "old man yaoi"

#polls #round 2 #tournament poll #gay elders tourney #severance #irving bailiff #burt goodman #birving #warrior cats #warriors #ravenpaw #barley #ravenbarley

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cc-tinslebee · 6 months ago

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Gojo and Nanami's class years adopting orphaned teens as a canon event (the playlist)

a playlist inspired by Gojo & Megumi, Nanami & Yuji, Geto & Nanako/Mimiko, and my own au of Shoko & Junpei (they are NOT beating the adoption allegations)

listen on spotify!

Harpy Hare - Yaelokre she can't keep them all safe / they will die and be afraid / mother, tell me so I say / Harpy Hare, where have you buried all your children?

Mama's Boy - Dominic Fike half of my heart is in your chest, I’m not a mama’s boy

Mama - My Chemical Romance mama, we’re meant for the flies / and right now, they’re building a coffin your size

Taking What's Not Yours - TV Girl you know where to find me / and I know where to look

Reflections - The Neighbourhood I see my reflection in your eyes (I sold my soul for you, I know you see it too)

Devil’s Advocate - The Neighbourhood I’m the devil’s advocate / you don’t know the half of it / good luck tryna manage it / if a god is a dog and a man is a fraud, then I’m a lost cause

I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski I know they’re losing and I’ll pay for my place by the ring / where I’ll be looking in their eyes when they’re down

everything i wanted - Billie Eilish as long as I’m here, no one can hurt you / don’t wanna lie here, but you can learn to

This Night Has Opened My Eyes - The Smiths a shoeless child on a swing / reminds you of your own again / she took away your troubles / oh, but then again she left pain

New Person, Same Mistakes - Tame Impala feel like a brand new person (but you’ll make the same old mistakes)

The Archer - Taylor Swift screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? / and who could stay? / you could stay

If We Have Each Other - Alec Benjamin if we have each other, then we’ll both be fine / I will be your mother, and I’ll hold your hand / you should know I’ll be there for you

Beautiful Boy - John Lennon the monster’s gone / he’s on the run and your daddy’s here

1985 - Bo Burnham my dad was happier than I am / if I could be anyone, dead or alive / I would wanna be my dad in 1985

The Future - Bo Burnham is it gonna end? (Yeah) / When? (Never) / It’s just another day of hanging with my daughter / and I’m living in the future

United in Grief - Kendrick Lamar I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime (tell them, tell them the truth)

Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood go ahead and cry, little boy / you know that your daddy did too / you know what your mama went through

Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray there’s things I wanna talk about / but better not to give / but if you hold me without hurting me / you’ll be the first who ever did

Euphoria - Kendrick Lamar y’all think all my life is rap? / that’s hoe shit, I got a son to raise, but I can see you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that

She Knows - J. Cole, Cults, Amber Coffman bad things happen to the people you love / and you find yourself praying up to heaven above / but honestly I’ve never had much sympathy / ‘cause those bad things, I always saw them coming for me

Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier I got some colour back / she thinks so, too / I laugh like me again / she laughs like you

I Hear a Symphony - Cody Fry I used to hear a simple song / that was until you came along / now in its place is something new / I hear it when I look at you

Duvet - bôa I am hurting / I have lost it all

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 3 months ago

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While I’d love to hear six hours of discussion, perhaps we can hear your top 10 reasons you like Ironwood? Don’t want you to lose your voice after all my fellow Dadmiral friendo

Look I stream for 6 hours straight some days but that’s beside the point lolz. Also sorry this took so long. Life has been a thing.

1. James feels…human. I know the point of characters in stories is to make them feel alive and to immerse you into the world I know. But stay with me there are just little details like James adjusting his tie and little laughs at R/WBY’s antics that just make him feel more real.

2. James is strong. And not just in the physical sense but the emotional one. Between him in volume 3 holding it together despite the world falling apart around him and him taking on all of Atlas and Mantles hatred and vitriol while trying to protect them is incredible. Everyone hates him despite him trying his best and it’s both incredible and heartbreaking to see.

3. James is compassionate. I am not even slightly referring to volume 8 that bullshit is not canon at all just no. After watching Yang with his own eyes break (who he thought) was an innocent students leg unprovoked after the match ended and his aura was down, he believed her when she said she saw him attack first. He assumed the best of her even when all evidence showed that she was being malicious. Or in volume 4 when Weiss accidentally summoned a Grimm that attacked someone, he stood up for her or after Ruby failed to stop Cinder in volume 3 (? Or 2 can’t remember for sure) and he told her she did well and she took action which is what huntresses do. He is strict but he shows kindness to people.

4. He’s kind of silly sometimes. He’s normally very strict so it makes his funny moments stand out more. Like when he laughs when the girls admit they stole an airship or when he grins at Winters comment about how he couldn’t pay her to smile for the cameras.

5. He’s not a good public speaker. Now I can hear you say “but wait, he speaks publically all the time and while yes he does, he also does the equivalent of error 404 when things don’t go exactly as he mentally prepared beforehand and we see this in volume 7.

When the girls don’t react at all to his announcement that they’re all huntresses now he just freezes because this man needs to preplan everything and he did not have a plan b prepared and panics and it’s so relatable I adore it so much.

6. He’s awkward. While similar to the last point, people can suck at public speaking and still be able to converse well with people in a smaller setting but sometimes James seems to even be a little awkward even in less formal moments.

7. In early volumes he was allowed to make mistakes and still be a good person. I like it when characters are allowed to make a mistake and still be seen as a good guy. People make mistakes and screw up but that doesn’t make said person evil. Sometimes we can’t fix something or stop a bad thing from happening or even make a decision that winds up causing more problems. But the intention of the decision is the important thing. James wanted to protect people in volumes 2 and 3 so he brought his army because he had a feeling Salem was up to something. Cinder used said army to cause even more chaos but at the time the narrative refused to demonize him for this and allowed people to understand what his intentions were. That’s way more compelling than the narrative twisting itself to try and somehow prove the mains are always correct and never make mistakes. Learning and growing make stories interesting.

8. James is willing to make the tough decisions. Time and time again we see James making really difficult calls to try and navigate a war that most people don’t even know they’re fighting. He makes the plans to transfer Ambers Aura to keep it from Cinder. He pulled his armies from the other kingdoms to try and maintain peace, he decided to focus on Amity instead of the wall to try and restore global communication, he decided to try and save who he could when he was put between a rock and a hard place. He made the tough calls and stuck by his decision and that is admirable.

9. James trusts people. After James’s talk with Glynda she took his advice to heart and was more open and honest with people. When Winter tells him something is going on at Haven, he takes her word for it. When Ruby and co lie to his face he trusts their word. He trusts Yang when she says she saw Mercury attack her first during the Vytal Festival. (Despite what the narrative tries to tell us) James gives people the benefit of the doubt and is willing to trust people.

10. James is an incredible fighter even without a typical offensive Aura. Pretty self explanatory but James is able to go toe to toe with some dangerous adversaries and hold his own despite not having a special “super power” like everyone else does. Or even a special weapon really he kicks ass with just a pair of guns and that is so badass of him lolz.

And a bonus more meta point because I want to talk about this so there. But one thing I loved about Ruby and James’s volume 7 fallout is that we can see exactly how and why each of them made the decision they did during that breakdown. On one had we have Ruby who is full of hope still and sees the best in the world. She lost her friends and is still dealing with the trauma of that and doesn’t want to ever lose anyone else again or let people suffer a loss like she did during the fall of Beacon. On the other we have James who is equally traumatized from Beacon but in a very different way. He did his best to fight back against Salem and it was in the end used against him and caused even more pain and suffering. He’s terrified of going toe to toe against Salem again and wants to protect what he knows he can until he knows they are able to take on Salem. It’s realistic and painful and neither side is really a perfect option. It’s a bad situation and we can see how the characters respond to it and it feels in character and real and I wish that we got to see that writing continue into volume 9.

Sorry again for how long this one took! As I said life’s been all over the place and chaotic and it still is but I got a burst of motivation so I decided to finally type this out.

#rwde #james ironwood #ironwood protection squad #pro james ironwood #pro ironwood #general ironwood #general dadmiral #dadmiral ironwood

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kurtmustdie · 1 month ago

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Yeah caitvi is canon and they’re alive and well yeah jinx is maybe dead we honestly don’t know yeah jayvik was made canon in the most brutal and heartbreaking way before they both immediately died but the character I’m thinking about the MOST right now is Mel

This woman was kidnapped into a dark dimension, learned her brother was killed to save her own life, sent back with a new terrifying and unexplainable power, she never got to say goodbye to Jayce (who I assume is still her boyfriend I don’t think they canonically broke up they just both were. Sent to different dimensions. As you do) or Viktor, her two closest friends, she watched her mother die in her arms after defeating her in a battle that she HAD to win or else everything she worked for would be shattered including her remaining friends and family and several other innocent lives, and NOW she has to deal with leadership of a WHOLE other society that probably will not take her seriously considering how much her worldview conflicts with their values.

I want to hammer this home but Mel basically lost EVERYONE that she cared for, with an exception of maybe Caitlyn? Who she is now probably further away from (I don’t remember how close they were but I think it was mentioned a few times that they were friends), and the most painful one for me to think about is her and her mother Ambessa.

While they did almost always argue and were always at odds for most of their screen time, you could very clearly tell that they cared for each other. The only two times we’ve seen Ambessa drop her hyper vigilant mask and show some genuine vulnerability was around her daughter, first when Mel came back from the Black Rose and second when Ambessa LITERALLY FUCKING DIED. The first time she was relieved to see her daughter and almost cried when she got back, the second time she was terrified which we’ve never seen of her. And Mel, when she was with her mother in her last moments, was still DEVASTATED. Regardless of everything that she had done, and what she had been doing to take control over Piltover (and really Mel herself). She’s all alone now with basically 0 guidance or support. Like holy fuck.

She has BEEN THROUGH IT and it pains me to see her suffer so fucking much in one season. And no one seems to even be talking about it at all and it’s so painful I can’t keep it in anymore.

#SHE HAS SUCH A HORRIBLE ENDING IM SO SORRY FOR HER??#this is just kind of a rant if I got something wrong that’s why #arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane spoilers #ambessa medarda #mel medarda

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chickentnders · 5 months ago

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Why Deku Won't End up Quirkless (and Why Bakugou will Give him his Quirk)

*obvious manga spoilers through 429* (and of course this is all just my opinion)

I know OFA is gone, but it isn’t completely gone, right? Izuku still has the embers of it. Well, that’s not what I’m talking about. The OFA quirk can’t be passed on again, it's gone, but there’s nothing in canon (afaik) saying that the embers can’t be used to pass on a quirk that someone already has one more time.

Bakugou was given OFA during the events of Heroes Rising, and even though he forgot the events of the movie, he still held the quirk for a brief period of time.

This means he could have the embers of OFA still inside him.

When Bakugou dies in ch. 362, he sees All Might, but he doesn’t see the man, he sees the vestige. I thought this was just a stylistic choice by Horikoshi when the chapter dropped, but now I think it was foreshadowing. In that chapter, we see that memory of him and Izuku happy to both have gotten All Might trading cards.

In chapter 403 when All Might is near death, he also has a vision. He sees his life play out before his eyes, and when he looks back at his path, he sees lights on the ground and his narration says, "As for what I've done? I just happened to glance back at my path. And what I saw… seemed so very significant."

If you count the lights on the ground, there are ten of them. The tenth one in the center has explosions around it.

A few pages later, we see All Might holding one of those balls of light as he watches child Izuku and Bakugou with their own balls of light.

This scene All Might watches is the same exact scene as Bakugou’s memory.

Two things are impossible: 1. For Bakugou to see Vestige-Might and 2. For All Might to see a memory that is NOT his own, exactly as it happened.

Remember, as All Might is seeing the two boys, they are all holding the same thing, a ball of light. But in the way this scene played out, the boys were holding All Might trading cards. If they all have the same thing, well, All Might isn’t holding his own trading card.

If you look back at those ten balls of light on the ground in 403, the biggest one in the center has stars of light around it that look like Bakugou’s explosions. Ten lights for ten One For All holders, with Bakugou as the tenth.

The trading cards aren’t trading cards, they’re One For All.

Right before Bakugou and Izuku’s eye’s meet in 403, we see them as kids holding their cards.

Then that 10th ball of light. Then a close up of Bakugou's hand holding the trading card.

I mean…

Then their eyes meet and they pull off a very coordinated move without needing to communicate.

I prefer it from a “they just know each other that well” angle, but looking back, it’s feels more like possibly the story was trying to foreshadow something to us, like they didn’t need to communicate, because their thoughts reached each other through the OFA crystalline network.

We already have precedent for this kind of memory sharing within OFA. Yoichi showed Izuku his memories of AFO and when Izuku fought ShigAFO, their memories blend together as he transferred OFA to him.

As far as Izuku being able to receive another quirk...

If Nana gave OFA to All Might however long before she died, that means she didn’t lose Float during the transfer. Which means that OFA doesn’t take the original quirk when it’s passed on, it stores a copy. All of the other users died shortly after passing it on, so its capabilities weren’t really tested. Nobody knew that the individual quirks were stored up in OFA in addition to the power stocking, so there was no way to test what the embers would be capable of.

All Might and Izuku are the only two OFA users alive and they’re both quirkless. They have no reason to suspect that the embers could be used to transfer a quirk to someone, because they were both born without quirk factors of their own. They don't have anything to pass on and had no reason to suspect that that ember was anything more than super strength. The ember is all they have left once it’s gone.

Bakugou does have something he can pass on, he still has Explosion. Since he held OFA, there’s a good chance he still has that untouched ember of OFA that’s been lying dormant inside of him. Enough for one more use. And if he does, since OFA is a quirk meant to be passed on, I think he’s going to use that ember, not for the super strength, but as it was always intended, to pass on a quirk. To pass on his own quirk on to Izuku.

I think that’s going to be his ultimate atonement, specifically because he didn’t get a prosthetic when the doctor said, “If he’s still determined to be a hero…” and he turned it down.

Then he mentioned Izuku never had a quirk to begin with. I think this means he can't use his quirk anymore, not the way he used to. Especially since he's shown to be very similar to Mirko, who loves fighting more than anything, but he did the opposite of what she chose.

Then he cried when he found out Izuku was quirkless again—genuinely devastated—and said, “What did I do to you?”

It’s a lot of things: everything in the hospital, his little chat with Edgeshot who’s not back to normal (and the face he made at his response); the new illustration by Horikoshi where we can see his arm is still non-responsive at his side; the fact that his one line in this last chapter was asking about the ember of OFA...

It all makes me think he’s going to give his quirk to Izuku once OFA is completely burned out of him (so Izuku can’t try to give it back, because we know he would); like he's gauging how much of it is left. All Might only held onto that ember for less than a year, after holding the quirk for forty; Izuku held OFA for less than a year, it's probably going to burn out very quickly, and Bakugou probably knows this.

We already know that transfer doesn’t require the recipient to be aware, because of how it was transferred from Yoichi to Kudou, and Izuku would definitely refuse to take it if offered. It would be pretty easy, Bakugou can just spit in his food really.

And narratively, Bakugou doesn’t have anywhere left to go. His story is essentially over and ended when he finished off AFO. In fact, I think he got back up and went out with such a bang (and has gotten very little screen time since), because that was the last time he was going to pursue his pro hero dream (from the standpoint of the author, not the character, who wouldn't know how badly he'd been hurt).

He’s been famous the entire story since chapter one and the entire world watched him take down the most villainous villain to ever villain on live TV. He wanted to be the strongest, but by now he knows that it’s never going to happen for him the way he wanted, and being the person to finish off AFO (with everyone’s help) is probably the highest he could ever go. He’s achieved the dream that he had at the start of the story to the best of his ability. And at the end, his dream shifted to wanting him and Izuku to keep competing at each other’s side forever, but Izuku being quirkless makes that impossible.

But Izuku being quirkless again is what makes it possible for him to do for Izuku what nobody else but him can: pass his quirk onto him. I think that's why the way to defeat ShigAFO was to give away OFA. Izuku had to be quirkless for the story to end the way it started, but to reverse their roles.

By now, Bakugou’s grown a lot, and for quite a while in the manga his story has shifted to be about Izuku first and foremost, so I think this would be the equivalent of him finally taking that hand that he slapped away when they were kids.

And I kind of think this was what Horikoshi intended from the start, maybe? I know he said something about Heroes Rising being the original ending, I dont know about you, but I never take authors literally and prefer to let their work do the talking. That said, in Heroes Rising, the two boys pass a quirk between them, so this kind of ending would fit. I don’t know the exact quote, but Horikoshi also said something along the lines of hoping Bakugou’s ending would make people who like him and dislike him both happy. I feel like giving up the thing that defines him, his quirk, would do just that.

It's hard to argue that Bakugou hasn't atoned if he gave up the thing that had given his entire life meaning to the quirkless loser he bullied.

If you think about it, Izuku was always copying Bakugou at the beginning of the story, it went on for quite a while until he really made OFA his own. If Bakugou can’t use his quirk anymore, or can’t use his arm anymore the way he used to, and he wants Izuku to not be quirkless, he’s the perfect person to get it. He already knows all of Bakugou’s moves from years of watching him, he learned how to move like him, and his Explosion quirk is the one he’d admired his whole life. I can't imagine Bakugou would want his quirk to go to anybody else, and I think if he had the chance to give Izuku his dream back, after having crushed it for so many years, telling him he could never be a hero, he would take it in a heartbeat.

And then the final point: Endeavor. Bakugou is a parallel to him, but he had his eyes opened and started trying to atone much earlier in life. Endeavor went off the deep end very early in life; he reached the number two spot by twenty, realized he couldn't surpass him, decided to get married, try to have a baby, and by twenty-two Touya was born. Unwell behavior. Bakugou also came to this realization and ShigAFO drove it home even further: he will never surpass Izuku and he never could have surpassed All Might (nobody could, aside from the person he pass OFA onto, and despite meeting All Might the same day, he wasn't the one chosen).

In 426, Endeavor said that he had planned to retire after the final battle was over and that he’d spend every day watching Touya. Hero work was the thing that gave Endeavor pride, it was the only thing that mattered in his life, when his family should have been the most important thing. He gave up the thing that gave him meaning to finally focus on what was important, even if it was too late.

For Bakugou, it's not too late. The thing that defined him as a person his entire life, from the moment it manifested, was his quirk. If he’s a parallel to Endeavor, and if he has an ember of OFA inside him, it would make sense that he’s going to do the same thing and give up the thing that got between him and what mattered most: his friendship with Izuku.

And I think it would be a perfect end to their story if Katsuki ended up quirkless, while Izuku got an amazing quirk; and if the boys who were friends, turned bully and victim, could go back to being normal friends like when they were little.

Do you think Bakugou will give Explosion to Izuku? Do you think he's going to give him his quirk and finally tell Izuku the thing he's always wanted to hear from him, "You can be a hero"?

Do you think Deku will become the first quirkless pro hero instead? (I’d love this, but considering it keeps getting reinforced that you can’t be a pro hero in the MHA universe without a quirk (Mirio taking a sabbatical, Ragdoll, Grandpa Fist), idk… (even though Bakugou genuinely thought Izuku got into UA without a quirk and Izuku had hoped to get into the hero program without a quirk))

Do you think Bakugou could become the first quirkless pro hero?

And here are the ten lights:

(I posted this on Tumblr before, if it sounds familiar, but I think I rambled too much so I just condensed it. Apologies for redundancy ^_^;)

#mha analysis #bakudeku #but it's not necessarily shippy #bkdk #dkbk #mha 429 #mha manga spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #my hero academia manga spoilers #bnha #mha #avoiding leaks like the plague #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #decchan

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anyydidi · 1 year ago

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N x Uzi works and N x V shippers should accept that.

Even though i’m a Nuzi (N x Uzi) shipper at heart, I like Envy (N x V). I think it’s cute and they have a great history. But…

That’s about it.

We need to realize that they are both different people now. Yes, N kind of kept his personality through it all, but he has gone through so much development, mainly thanks to Uzi. Not to mention he got his memories completely wiped out and the only reason he has/had feelings for V is because he felt the remnants of their past stronger feelings. Yes, he got his memories back, but only from the Cyn incident. We don’t have any proof of him having all of his memories from the mansion back.

We don’t even know if they just had crushes on each other. We’re not sure if they really had an established romantic relationship in the first place. Did they only have mild crushes, or were they madly in love? That’s something we’re not sure about.

And lastly, people move on. How i mentioned, they’re two different people than they were at the mansion, with absolutely different lives. It’s not wrong, or weird of N to start developing feelings for Uzi. After all, even though N’s personality didn’t really change from his past one, V has made a practically 180 turn. She’s seen as shy and reversed in the past, but ignorant, mean and murderous in the present (before her character development of course). She’s a different person from what N has fallen for. Plus, let’s be honest, V hasn’t been treating N nicely.

V has treated N very poorly. Ignoring him, pretending she doesn’t know who he is, generally just being mean to him. She probably did that to protect him, yeah, but N isn’t aware of that and really, is that an excuse to behave that way? On the other hand, Uzi has helped N grow as a person. She helps him believe in himself, she shows him what true love feels like (platonic, and now even a little romantic). She started treating him as his own person, as a person who has feelings and deserves to be treated as such. Not just some killer machine that you can use and throw around. And in turn, N was Uzi’s first friend. Someone who finally loves her for who she is. He supports her and helps her grow emotionally. They support and love each other and it’s HEALTHY.

And last but not least, NO. Nuzi is not rushed and the hand holding scene did not come from nowhere. Uzi has been shown to develop some sort of feelings for him for EPISODES now. We can see her starting to develop them in The Promening. Which is kind of a long time ago. As for N, we don’t exactly see him having romantic feelings for her until recently, we can definitely see him start to lose feelings for V since Cabin Fever. The point where he definitely realizes he feels something for Uzi, is in the scene prior to the hand holding scene, where Uzi asks him if he’s good. Obviously, he probably had some feelings for her even before, but i would say that was the realization point.

So, in conclusion, i would say both Nuzi and Envy works. The only difference is that Nuzi is in the present, and Envy is more in the past. But, let’s be honest here, does it really matter? Yes, I am more of a Nuzi shipper and definitely am rooting for them to become canon, but i wouldn’t be mad if Envy is the one who wins in the end. Both relationships have chemistry. And i think we all know that Envy is absolutely tragic and it makes me sad. So, stop the ship wars you guys. It’s not worth it. Let’s just enjoy our respective ships as they are, it is Liam’s show after all and he can do whatever he wants with it.

(This is a Nuzi defend post, I am in NO WAY hating on Envy, as i hope was stated enough. I am just tired of toxic Envy shippers attacking Nuzi for pointless reasons. Oh and btw i am a strong “V is alive, or at least comes back” believer. And that is not delusion, guys, it was clearly stated by J earlier in the episode that the disassembly drones were cloned. Glitch, I am watching you 👹👹.)

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sidekick-hero · 5 months ago

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I've got a ghost in the hallway grinning

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 2, prompt: ghosts. Title from Euclid by Sleep Token.

Tags: Ghost!Eddie, Angst with a happy ending (!), childhood friends, canon divergence

words: 1.7k | AO3 | teen

"You are such a charmer, big boy. Oh, wow, your eyes are so blue; it's like looking at the ocean. I can't believe she let you get to second base after that line."

"Oh, please, what do you know? How many second bases have you been to?"

Eddie recoiled at Steve's words, and Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. That was a low blow, even for him. Eddie's constant teasing about his dates always got under his skin. It’s why he mostly stopped bringing girls over, but Megan had insisted they couldn’t go to her place because her mom was always home. She didn't want to risk getting caught in his car.

So he brought her home to let his house ghost judge his moves.

What was his life, anyway?

Despite his irritation, Eddie was his best friend, alive or not, and Steve didn’t want to hurt him.

"Shit, Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"But you did, Steve. And you're right. I haven't even kissed anyone. All I know is from those cheesy movies you secretly watch."

Steve gave Eddie a faint smile. "Oh my God, that was once. Maybe twice. And no one was supposed to know."

Eddie looked up at him, his big brown eyes still sad. "Who would I even tell? You're the only one who can see me. Don't worry your pretty head, Stevie, I'll take all your secrets to my grave."

Now it was Steve's turn to look sad, all his earlier giddiness from making out with Megan gone.

"This isn't funny, man." Steve's voice broke, and that finally snapped Eddie out of his strange mood.

Eddie approached, hand hovering over Steve’s arm, like he wanted to touch but couldn’t. Steve knew he couldn’t.

Eddie couldn’t touch him because Eddie was a ghost. He was dead, with no body to touch Steve with. They had tried, when they first met, and several times since. It never worked, just a cold whisper against his skin, but nothing substantial.

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled, looking contrite.

"It's fine. I just want to be alone for a bit, though. Please."

"Sure, Stevie. I’ll just… go, I guess. See you later?"

Steve forced himself to smile at Eddie to show him everything was okay between them. "Yeah, definitely. We still have to watch the new Star Wars movie, right?"

"Right. Just call when you're ready, and I'll see if I can fit you in."

With that, Eddie disappeared to wherever ghosts go when they’re not here. Steve still had no idea how it all worked, just that Eddie always came when he called.

The one time he didn’t, after a particularly bad fight—the worst they’d ever had—Steve had a panic attack. He had been alone at the time, as had become more and more usual for him. It was the only time Steve swears he felt Eddie, who had hugged him as tight as he could, begging him to ‘breathe, Stevie, please, just breathe, pleasepleaseplease.’

After that, Eddie had always been there as soon as Steve said his name, even when they were fighting.

Steve lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

He wondered what had changed between him and Eddie, when it stopped being so easy. He had known Eddie since he was six years old, when his parents and he moved into this house.

It was a hot summer day, and Steve had been hiding in his room, playing with his toy cars, when a voice behind him startled him. “What’re you doing there?” the voice had asked, and when Steve turned around, a little boy around his age was standing behind him.

They both had been lonely up until they met. Steve, a shy boy in a new neighborhood, found it hard to make friends. Eddie, a ghost with no memory of how he died, had been wandering the house for what felt like an eternity. They became best friends quickly, finding solace in each other's company. Strangely, Eddie seemed to grow up alongside Steve, his ghostly form aging in tandem with Steve’s living body.

They played together, laughed together, and shared secrets no one else would understand. Eddie was there for Steve’s first day of school, his first crush, and his first heartbreak. They spent countless nights talking about their dreams and fears, their bond growing stronger with each passing year. Despite the oddity of their friendship, it felt natural to them—an unbreakable connection that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

But lately, something had shifted. The effortless camaraderie they once shared now felt strained. Steve couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but he missed the easy days of their childhood when everything made sense and nothing seemed impossible.

Steve knew that it wasn’t just Eddie who was responsible for the new tension between them. It was Steve who had fallen in love with his dead friend.

It all started when he was thirteen. He had woken up to the strange feeling of being watched, and when he opened his eyes, he caught Eddie leaning over him, his translucent lips pressed against Steve’s. Before he could try to kiss back, Eddie had jumped away.

Eddie had apologized profusely, telling Steve he’d just been curious. He said it always looked so magical in the movies when people kissed, and he wanted to know what it was all about. Nothing more—it didn’t mean anything.

Too bad it meant a great deal to Steve. It had been his first kiss, and he didn’t even feel it.

A week later, when he kissed Tina to see if it would cause the same flutter of butterflies in his stomach, Eddie had caught them. Steve would never forget the look on his face.

Steve had apologized, even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong—just that Eddie was hurting, and it was somehow his fault.

Eddie had been cold and distant, acting aloof and laughing in Steve’s face. He mocked him, saying he was already training to become a man-whore, asking if he’d kiss anything with a pulse and without.

That had been their first fight, and even though they made up afterward, things started to change.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV screen casting flickering shadows on the walls. Steve and Eddie were sprawled on the couch, watching the latest Star Wars movie. Despite the tension between them, movie nights had remained a cherished ritual.

Steve’s dating life had become the elephant in the room, a sore topic between them that neither he nor Eddie wanted to address.

As the film progressed, a romantic scene between Leia and Han Solo unfolded. The characters on screen leaned in for a kiss, and Steve felt a familiar pang in his chest. He glanced at Eddie, who was watching intently, his expression unreadable.

The scene ended, and Steve felt the words bubbling up before he could stop them. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I could have felt it when you kissed me."

Eddie turned to him, his translucent form shimmering slightly. "Steve, I—"

"I know you were just curious," Steve interrupted, his eyes fixed on the screen. "But it meant something to me. It was my first kiss, and I wanted it to be you, but I also wanted to feel it."

Eddie’s expression softened, a mixture of regret and sorrow in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t know it would mean so much to you. I never wanted to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted."

Steve sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I know. It’s just… I’ve thought about it a lot. Wondered what it would have been like if you were—if you weren’t—"

"If I weren’t dead," Eddie finished for him, a bitter smile on his lips.

"Yeah," Steve admitted, feeling a lump form in his throat. "If you were alive, things might have been different."

Eddie moved closer, his ghostly presence sending a chill down Steve’s spine. "I wish things were different too," he said softly. "But I’m still here, Stevie. Maybe not in the way you want, but I’m here."

Steve turned to face Eddie, their eyes locking. "I know. And I’m grateful for that. It’s just hard sometimes, knowing what we could have had."

When Steve meets Eleven, he's trying to protect the kids—his kids, in a weird way—from monsters that came from another dimension. A ghost he’s in love with living in his house is no longer the strangest thing happening in his life.

They sat in silence for a moment, the movie playing on in the background, both lost in their thoughts.

When El and Chief Hopper disappear inside the lab to close the portal, they all listen in through the walkie Dustin insisted El take with them.

They hear her scream, they listen to her win, and then the tearful cheering from her and Hopper.

"You did it, Kiddo. I knew you could do it. Come on, let’s get outta here," Chief Hopper says, sounding prouder than Steve's dad ever did. But then again, Steve never saved the world, so maybe that’s fair.

His heart stops at El’s next words.

"Wait, Dad. We need to save Eddie first."

Eddie.

We need to save Eddie first.

"Who’s Eddie?" Hopper asks, and Steve snatches the walkie from Dustin, not wanting to miss a single word.

"He's another boy like me, but he's asleep. Always asleep. They somehow take his energy from him to power their weird experiments. I don’t know how it works, just that he’s lying in this room all alone. We can’t leave him here, Dad. We can’t."

Steve’s mind races, trying to process what he’s hearing. Could it be the same Eddie? His Eddie?

"Eddie," Steve murmurs, gripping the walkie tighter. "Eddie, if you can hear me, we're coming for you. Hold on."

The group falls silent, the gravity of El's revelation sinking in. Steve's heart pounds in his chest, hope and fear swirling inside him. The ghost he loves might not be a ghost at all, but a boy trapped in a nightmare, waiting to be saved.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie angst #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddieangstyaugust #my writing

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allio-corporations · 3 months ago

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Another Hannibal (Hannigram) AU:

This time a G/t au! Or more correctly, a plethora of supernatural (monster/magic) g/t AUs and just plain g/t AUs!

This is a comp of a few avenues of g/t Hannibal.

- Supernatural AU! -

This AU has supernatural creatures, and mixing of different creatures leads to some going underground/traits not present unless something triggers their dna to do so

Will has empathy based psychic abilities, along with some lineage(s) that may explain what happens to him in this AU. One of them being part Veela (think Harry Potter type lore for that creature)

Hannibal has heightened senses, more so due to his bloodlines. A lineage of Wendigo that reappears in the family when he’s forced to eat Mischa. The wendigo traits are able to maintained and keep him civil due to his diet and other lineages. Lastly, he has a third line of inhuman species, called Nephilim - meaning giants but also in some interpretations of the Bible and Torah, it means children of (likely fallen) angels + humans. - It’s giants that are born of angels and humans, but some of the traits go quiet for many generations at a time and can only be triggered in someone due to certain circumstances. It explains the success and power the Lecters had in their lives, both sides, and essentially ensured their nobility (also Nephilim were seen to use magic to change or use abilities other creatures had, but every magic comes with a price of course).

Other lineages types include:

Jack - some type of griffin-human

Bella - siren, think fish type that can go on land and into water whenever

Alana - Selkie (mostly human)

Beverly - Wraith

Jimmy Price - vampire

Brian Zeller - human

Freddie - nymph + banshee (fire based)

Chilton - goblin + fae

Francis (red dragon) - obviously a dragon hybrid (maybe one that’s not seen as very powerful but he’s able to essentially become more feral with each kill)

Abigail - Wendigo

GJH - Wendigo

Randal Tierr - werewolf-esq hybrid (wolf-bear hybrid)

Mason - shape shifter + pig-hybrid

Margot - shape shifter (did not get the expressed pig gene)

Peter - human (with strong abilities to work well with animals)

I’ll think up more of them later, or would welcome any alternative ideas for the side characters aka ones besides the murder husbands

Alright, so some head canons or background situations, and a few different timeline/alteration ideas (I’ll try to make sure I mark ideas for when I write for different jumping off points!)

G/t AU 1: Divergent point from the second half of season 2 (the cases are the same, but Will is convinced to drop accusing Hannibal entirely, and Jack/Fbi stops suspecting him, but don’t think Will was to blame either, they just think the encephalitis confused Will).

- so Will is genuinely connecting with Hannibal, but is still debating on if he’s going to try and take him out on his own or give in to his own wants.

- obviously some aspects of the supernatural exist in this AU

- we’re skipping over their development to this point bc maybe I’ll cover it later. But by now they’re on good grounds (honest with each other, Abigail is alive and they make it seem like the ripper or copycat (who the fbi doesn’t know) let her go similar to Miriam Lass). So the three get a murder family that isn’t fleeing the country yet.

- Beverly is also alive. She didn’t go to Hannibal’s house, and girlie is thriving. (She doesn’t fully suspect Hannibal, but isn’t as social with him now.)

- Hannibal still helps consult on occasion, Will is still helping Jack, but in his own terms now

- After Abgail goes off to college (girlie wanted to go abroad to escape this mess and good for her, we’ll see her later), there’s a new normal. Will is over more often, the dogs usually join him now, the two are kind of together. Others don’t know if they’re properly together, but they essentially are - even if they are still learning to communicate and work around/with each other.

Now we go to the case that starts the shit show;

During one case, one not shown in the series, making one up - Will is pursuing the suspect. Jack got his leg hurt and Will is just going for it bc doing bad things to bad people feels good (he’s being honest with himself and Hannibal, or trying to be, it’s progress).

During the pursuit, Hannibal is slightly behind Will, because of course Hannibal would rather see Will go feral/see what Will does to a suspect.

Perp is some type of fae, so enjoys causing issues and it killing people or greatly changes them. Has bags of powder, think like the Love god episode of gravity falls. But not for love, for chaos and making people be honest/situations kind of like jigsaw.

Perp can tell that Will and Hannibal are kind of together but yknow, they’re them, so he hits each of them with a powder during the pursuit. (Powder’s actions essentially can trigger dormant traits/lineages in person). So it acts the same but the outcomes depend on the person. And while creatures and such are accepted and fairly common, some lines and traits aren’t and haven’t been present since the beginning of recorded history essentially.

Will starts choking from it, Hannibal stops bc if he can’t watch Will further his becoming, and he’s actively in distress, why pursue the fae? So the beloved sassy science squad (this time Beverly), comes in with a great shot, and stops the threat. Doesn’t kill the fae, but he is apprehended properly.

Since both got that powder on them, medical checks out Hannibal and Will, doesn’t know what it is. They take samples, do some tests. Besides higher BP and fatigue the two are fine. So, the two head back to Baltimore until the next case or whenever Will would need something from wolftrap. They think this case is done. They were very wrong.

At home, the two are making dinner and discussing the case. Hannibal is cooking a roast of loin and rump (from a very vocal pig who unapologetically spilled a hot cup of coffee on Will during a previous case). While Hannibal is down in the cellar picking out a wine, he hears a clatter, crash, and yelp from upstairs.

Hannibal, who chided himself on letting Will sous chef while not feeling well, turns the corner, and can’t find Will. He knows he couldn’t have left, and there’s no one else there. No blood, no sign of struggle beyond a knocked over pot and two lids on the ground. The pot had been empty as well when he went downstairs, not even on the stove yet.

After a few more moments of investigating, and calling out for Will, he hears a response - muffled and soft but definitely something or someone calling out his name (though likely he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he was human). The even odder thing is that the sound came from the pot on the island.

Hannibal lifts the pot, finding what he had hoped wasn’t true: Will, under the pot, on the island, barely more than 3.5 inches tall. Safe to say, Hannibal is amused, and slightly concerned, though has a good theory of what happened.

Realizing that he was right in his assumption on what could make up Will’s lineage, and the fact the powder probably caused this, Hannibal realized that he should start monitoring any changes in himself as well.

Will, on the other hand, is not having a good time. He’s already knows this wasn’t Hannibal, that it was the damn fae who did this, but can’t help the anxiety that is coursing through his veins. Despite being pretty sure that Hannibal wouldn’t harm him - at least to a point he can’t fix - his nerves were still fried due to sensory overload and giant cannibal whose pot he is under at the moment. Likely thinking back to the damn endangered songbirds Hannibal had drowned, plucked, cooked, and ate whole. The only solace Will has from the powder is that his clothes were also affected, preserving his dignity, at least for a time.

Cutting back to Hannibal, he too is remembering the songbirds they had eaten not too long ago. But, he quickly concludes that he prefers Will not on a plate (at least now).

Hannibal has also decided that if there’s anyway he could find that fae, once they figure out the powder composition, he’s definitely stealing his pancreas and lungs.

When the two of them come out from their mind palaces/mind scapes, they work on finding a way to communicate easily without Will going deaf or sensory overload occurring. But before Will gets a word in, Hannibal decides it’s time to relive his days in the medical field, which Will is not happy about. It occurs without real incident once Will just goes with it, knowing it’d be faster than mildly inconveniencing Hannibal’s speed.

The two decide on a mix of whispering and writing things down, with some universal signs or part asl to help as well.

While Will is still partly anxious about Hannibal finding the thrill of the chase when Will inevitably freaks out, Hannibal doesn’t have much of a bloodlust of thrill of the chase when the target can’t escape an area without help, that he is always in arms reach of (at least most of the time).

One aspect that worsens is the amount of cannibal puns and jokes Hannibal makes on a daily basis. (As in his mongoose has turned into a morsel for the snake(s)). Will is not amused.

Will is also not a fan of how cold everything is now. While he didn’t enjoy the night terrors and waking up drowning in his own sweat, being constantly cold if left without a heat source within his personal space definitely was a downgrade in a lot of ways. (Though he didn’t hate the fact that he got to spend more time with Hannibal.)

Jack and the gang do in fact get told a little later about Will’s condition. The pair had been laying low for about 2-3 weeks, trying to play by ear, and take this time to actually work through things, but Jack got nosey, and the cat was out of the bag (more so, Will was out of the pocket).

During those few weeks of working things out, the two actually start communicating like adults when it matters, and learn to work with each other in more domestic settings. (Though domestic, it’s not normal).

Hannibal does essentially spoil Will - new clothes (too many in Will’s opinion), rigs and set ups to move around more efficiently, more warm blankets/articles and heaters around the house to keep Will’s body temp safer, even getting custom made pieces of furniture and appliances, even custom dishware and tools. Because while Hannibal enjoys having Will rely on him, he knows Will and that eventually he’d go stir crazy.

So, to make Will not lose his patience, plus the amusing nature of the situation, Will tags along to Hannibal’s therapy sessions with patients (asleep/listening while in his desk or where his handkerchief resides). Then, Hannibal attends the opera a bit, slightly less than usual, during that time period, reserving out and entire higher up booth to him and Will, as to better enjoy the opera but also be able to communicate with Will when/if necessary. In return he concedes in secretly taking Will to a scene with him, Jack not knowing what’s going on in the slightest. The two do get to hear about updates on what the powder was. (Midwest in origin, a mix of different magic/properties. Definitely needs more time to study and interrogate the fae before Hannibal can throw another proper dinner party).

Hannibal over time does become more unrested, irritable with anyone besides Will. Will finds it endearing but slightly worrisome. It at least keep Jack off his back, to the point where he sends Hannibal footage and pictures for Will rather than try to force Will out there (lessening the chance of Hannibal losing it on Jack).

When the rest of group finds out about Will, they all take it differently. Jack is still too loud, overbearing, and rough (causing a nasty set of bruises on Will’s rib cage once), and it takes Will pleading with Hannibal to not kill and cook Jack by flaying his skin to stop Hannibal from dropping the mask when he found out. Jimmy and Brian are a bit better, too inclined to stare at Will like a lab rat, which isn’t horrible since both are fond of animals, but just feels demeaning. Alana overcompensates trying to act normal and overprotective, so careful to the point of forgetting Will’s still himself. Beverly acts pretty normal, enjoys joking and is more careful, but can read a room better than apparently a psychiatrist (Alana) and the head of the BSU. Will ends up enjoying Hannibal and Beverly’s company the most to no one’s surprise.

Since Will was past his encephalitis, and decided to not turn in Hannibal/accepted his growing becoming, it’s easier to look. But, he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to. Jack can’t come and force him to do so, thanks to Hannibal. (If Will tells Jack he’s not feeling up to going/not feeling well, Hannibal takes his word for it and doesn’t take him to the scene. The crew won’t show up to try and convince Will, because Hannibal just won’t answer/repeats what Will said and excuses them out. Jack can’t even get them to budge.)

Though they two do visit the lab a fair bit to hear updates on the samples from the fae’s powder that hit them. Plus, do a basic physical and bloodwork once a week, usually if they’re already in the lab for a case. Will only lets Hannibal do his bloodwork, because of his surgical precision and as a form of trust. (Bc they are in the equivalent of a post fall communication era, but hiding in plain sight).

They find the powder isn’t entirely of fae origin, something from the Midwest, and a bit from the north east. Both of their vitals are steady. Will’s vitals come back faster, similar to small mammal’s in metabolism, need for heat, and just a faster heartbeat. Hannibal’s remains very similar to his base vitals, but they do notice while Hannibal’s vitals are normal and Will’s are faster, they’re still in sync with each other. (As in every fourth beat from Will, he and Hannibal sync up. Like a snare roll matching up and beating at the same time a timpani beats. Which I based off the study that couples who are shown to be in love/have high present levels of love hormones end up with matching heart beats/in sync with their partner). The science team find it endearing, Jack not so much, him and Alana are a bit unnerved.

Back to the boys: during the time Hannibal and Will are the only two (along with Abigail to an extent), know about Will’s condition, the two definitely learn to communicate. Because the first week consists of a lot of writing and whispering on Hannibal’s end.

During these early stages Hannibal takes it upon himself to get Will plenty of tools and day to day items. (Lots of clothes, with an accompanying wardrobe, his own bed which honestly doesn’t end up getting much use, small fashionable blankets to put around the house bc Will should not get cold when in this state, plenty of small appliances for hygiene and self care.) (Utensils, plates, kitchenware, furniture that matches the room’s aesthetic while still being comfortable, attachments to help Will get between rooms or on surfaces if need be, etc. But Hannibal still loves carrying Will around/having him within arms reach, and Will doesn’t complain much when Hannibal or eventually Winston carry him around. He hates being grabbed by essentially anyone or anything else though; enjoys being carried around by Winston but not the other dogs. Loves Hannibal carrying him around/Hannibal being the only person Will actively enjoys and seeks out to have physical contact with. He is okay with Abigail or Beverly helping him, but doesn’t like being held by them for long periods of time. Dislikes but tolerates Price (Jimmy) or Alana helping him out if needed. He actively avoids being touched or helped by Zeller or Jack, has risked falling multiple times just to avoid them bc his other options were not in the room or didn’t hear him. And the one time either of the Freddies, Lounds and Chilton, tried to be within a few inches of him, he nearly bit them before threatening to take a finger if they tried anything. Hannibal is was incredibly amused for the rest of the case.)

Hannibal doesn’t mind cooking the extra meals for Will, he enjoys being such a large part of Will’s day, especially considering the meals are just portioned smaller and last longer over time. Though he does let Will pick options more now bc not only is it their communicating + compromising era, but Hannibal is obviously simping for the Graham cracker.

First day, or partial day of this has Will trying to not retreat into himself. With Hannibal genuinely unsure of what do exactly do, because while he could never entirely predict Will, this is on another level.

Will, instead of running warm like he used to, now gets cold easily, so he’s essentially glued to either a heat source or Hannibal, usually the latter. And due to this, the first night, Will ends up sleeping with Hannibal (which would have been like normal for them, but due to circumstances, they had to rearrange). Pillow on Will’s side is swapped for a smaller pillow that won’t cause Will to easily roll off. Then temporarily until Hannibal can start spoiling Will, pocket squares and cuts of old fleece material (that had been packed away for Will to use to mend some of his fishing/outdoor gear) act as blankets. The pillow is set up near Hannibal’s head, and everything goes off without issue. Hannibal also turns up the heating in the house for him.

Even when Will gets proper bedding that is on Hannibal’s nightstand, Will ends up either in his old spot or on Hannibal (with Will refusing to move)

Should also bring back up the lineage stuff - Hannibal’s traits are usually muted, horns and such in one of his forms aren’t often present and usually Will is the only one to detect them, except for his eyes going red. Then he has the original wendigo shape of being longer and emaciated, which was what Will saw when he was sick in S1. Lastly there’s the incomprehensible form of being part nephilim, Will able to detect parts but doesn’t look at it fully, despite seeing Hannibal behind the human veil quite a lot. While Will’s eyes have a slight blue glow to them while he’s using his empathy in a controlled manner.

Hannibal ends up not being the only one with a slight thrill of the chase when Will darts around too quickly (Hannibal has enough self restraint and frontal lobe activity, unlike some, to not act on such impulses 99.99% of the time, at least not without thinking them through first). Jack ends up swiping at Will in the lab. Will had been pacing on one of the examination tables, doing his job. He had gotten lost in thought, and had begun to pace faster and look around the body more before he could zone in and “look”. As he’s turning to look the body in the face, Will sees something in the reflection of the table and a very quick shadow coming his way. Will scurried out of the way, ducking under the partially posed and elevated neck of the body he has been examining. As Will dove to hide, loud squeaks of shoes on the floor, and nearly incoherent rumbling from the others caused him to curl up and begin to lose himself/retreat inward. (Which wasn’t good considering he was just beginning to properly “look” at the situation for this case.)

Thankfully before the hand can reach where he has just been, a faster hand which had been the other mass in the table reflection grabbed the first wrist, twisting it sharply and efficiently. Jack had reached for Will, knocking over tools in the lab, unaware of his own actions/impulse. It wasn’t until Hannibal had quietly, near silent, grabbed his wrist, putting his body between Jack and Will, that Jack had snapped out of it. The rest of the crew were shocked, and a bit worried, not only for Will’s safety but also shocked by the actions of both Hannibal and Jack.

Once the commotion settled down, only then did Will even dare to look out, seeing Hannibal’s back to him, acting as a shield from the entire group. Jack not even being allowed to explain really. Will just quietly asking if everyone but Hannibal leave the room so he could focus, then he’d send over a report later. The team obviously complying, likely due to not wanting to further the situation, they waited outside in the hall.

When Hannibal walked out of the lab, the others noticed Will wasn’t in Hannibal’s hands or in his shoulder. They each had their own guess to what happened. Will hadn’t wanted to see or feel everyone’s eyes on him, especially Jack due to feeling fidgety still. So, he ended up hiding in Hannibal’s inner chest pocket of his suit, allowing him cover and not end up freezing.

Hannibal hadn’t let Jack even stop him as he walked out, knowing it may be rude, but nearly attacking an (unofficial but technical) employee was worse, he thought it fair to walk off, telling Jack he’d get the report and hear from himself or one of the others what the plan was going forward.

While it had been stressful, the two realized fairly quickly they’d both had such a strong reaction to Jack because not only is it a naturally stressful experience (mainly for Will) but also because it’s Jack. This being made more apparent when Beverly had suddenly moved to keep Will from falling off a counter in the lab a few weeks later - Will needing to just catch his breath due to nearly falling. Hannibal had still had a notable reaction though (shoulders slightly raised, more blunt in his tone at first, and moving closer to Will/acting as a barrier more so implicitly). Yet they didn’t leave suddenly and Will had continued his work that day fairly normally, with Hannibal remaining nearby, so not as nearly as strong of a reaction compared to Jack earlier.

This was further proven when Will decided that during a day in - more mundane and no cases, which was rare - that he’d get Hannibal to finally chase him. Will had been bored, unable to work on new lures, the dogs being in and out and besides Winston were too rowdy to safely deal with, and not much else to do. Will began to run around surfaces as Hannibal was reading. Thanks to the add ons Hannibal got so Will could move about easier, and using the coffee table, backs of furniture, etc. he was able to get Hannibal to silently set his book down. Hannibal could tell Will was enticing him, wanting to have a more physical recreation of their old “cat and mouse chase.” Which, who was he to turn down yet another surprise from Will?

Will would swear that if Hannibal had a tail it would have been swinging like a house cat tracking something, his eyes becoming an even more bloody shade of red. Once Will knew he had his attention, he took off towards the floor, where he knew he could get under furniture to prolong the chase. Hannibal, not immediately jumping up, rather watching to see his plan first, had toed off his shoes to be faster, then began the chase.

The chase and stalking lasted for about 15 minutes. During which Hannibal’s antlers had began to be visible, limbs looking more emaciated and longer, revealing that Hannibal was either not focused on maintaining his appearance during the chase or was shedding his human veil for the purpose of seeming more monstrous (possibly to make Will slip up). Didn’t matter which one it was, only that it was just them. Eventually, Will had given away his position on a bookshelf, and had no plan of escape. Will came out from behind the small stag sculpture on the shelf, allowing himself to get quickly swept up. By the time he was caught, Hannibal’s eyes were blood red, antlers longer than Hannibal’s forearms, and his limbs extended + emaciated, with his teeth sharpest they’d been in months. With a slight fuzziness around Hannibal, meaning he really hadn’t been keeping a lid on his veil or himself in check beyond his own nature.

Despite what should be terrifying, astronomically more dangerous than Jack’s mere swipe, Will wasn’t worried, wind slightly knocked out of him by the sudden grab yes, but not fearful. Once grabbed, Will saw Hannibal’s features spike then slowly fade back to what he looked like normally with his human veil tightly sewn on. Hannibal, surprised by how long the chase had been, remained somewhat hopeful that it wouldn’t be a one off thing.

The two going back to relaxing, this time in Hannibal’s study/library. Will going between curling up on the desk, next to Hannibal’s empty hand and book from earlier - Hannibal carefully helping Will relax by massaging the knots and kinks out of Will’s back to the point of him being putty. To then scurry to in crook of Hannibal’s neck & collar bone to lounge. Will moving around periodically to keep himself entertained until Hannibal was heading to cook dinner, once again one of Will’s favorites.

Of course their chases didn’t stop there, Will periodically deciding on days when they usually had little to do, he’d suddenly dash away, and their game would continue until one of them, almost always Will, got tired, or if Will reached a dead end. Then they would go back to what they were doing.

This was somewhat inconvenient at times. Especially when Will decided to run around Hannibal’s office shortly before a patient came in, Mason Verger.

Thankfully, Mason is too self absorbed to notice Will beyond asking Hannibal about his food preferences when he’d possibly picked up on a specific smell (which Hannibal thought he wouldn’t bc again it’s Mason, but because of his piggish nature, smell for him is increased significantly, nowhere near Hannibal’s but enough to smell Will and his, Hannibal approved aftershave/cologne). But beyond the rude remarks, he didn’t see Will quickly retreat to where Hannibal was, across the room. Both slightly tense, but unnoticeable to the untrained eye, until Will was again in Hannibal’s inner handkerchief pocket. With the appointment going the same as usual, Mason being insufferable for an hour.

All of this ends up paying off later during a case though - Jack insisting they join for the arrest, and Will feeling up to it putting them in that situation. In an old warehouse, with unsecured rooms, the assailant, a serial killer, another fae, using different people of different lineages to try and make…. Something. During the arrest, the two had walked in and the perpetrator lunged at Hannibal, causing Will to nearly fall off Hannibal, being placed down quickly as the attacker broke free from his cuffs to try and seemingly steal at least one of Hannibal’s eyes. Will had quickly gotten distance, knowing that he couldn’t fight back. But that mad dash took the assailant’s attention, causing an unprompted chase around the room. While it lasting for less than a minute, the moment the man had nearly grabbed Will before Hannibal had broken the man’s arm - from the bones near his second knuckle to the shoulder joint - and proceeded in dragging him away from Will had been tense.

The two left silently once they saw the man get loaded into an ambulance due to Hannibal’s interference.

Hannibal got a lot more…. Protective (well, possessive) over Will by that point, which didn’t seem to surprise the sassy science trio (more so Jack and Alana were surprised and off put to varying degrees).

They kind of settle into a new normal at this point. Well, normal for them, similar dynamic, but slowly becoming domestic bc it would be really not opportune to remove the scales from the other’s eyes about their nature at this point. So, focusing on finding out what happened/what the two were hit with, is the main focus while working with each other/learning how to be with one another.

Eventually, after enough tests are run and they’re waiting it to hear more news about what is found in the mixture, Hannibal is able to plan a trip to Europe, specifically Florence, with Will obviously accompanying him. While Beverly and Alan take turns watching the dogs. And on their trip, they plan to visit Abigail (she’s been let in on the situation but hasn’t seen the full on perspective).

They obviously travel private, thanks to Hannibal’s connections, and off the two went for a few weeks. And while doing tableau wasn’t out of the question, Hannibal having a set of drawings ready, they’d obviously have to be careful and not do an exact Ripper MO, but they both hoped that maybe this would help them clear their minds before anything else changed, since it seemed no new information would be found for a while.

(And while neither Hannibal or Will would admit it, at least not for a long while out loud, they were enjoying the situation to an extent, Hannibal more so than Will, and hoped that if they figured out what exactly this was, that they’d be able to find a way to control or at least use it again, if Will ever did return to his original state).

That is what I have for now, will definitely update this later. Let me know if yall got any ideas or suggestions to change some details or questions about plot points. This is mainly weeks of sleep deprivation in random bursts mixed with a few of my hyperfixations. I would love to hear some feedback! Thanks for reading.

#looooooooorrreee #hannibal #hannigram #nbc hannibal #will graham #g/t #hannibal lecter #tiny!Will Graham #giant!hannibal #silly little guy #time for cannibalism jokes to be turned up to 11 now that we got tiny graham cracker in the house #Hannibal will never stop the puns #Hannibal g/t

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delicateflowerss · 2 years ago

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Don't Worry, Darling: Three

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, eventual NON-CON, verbal/domestic abuse, dark!Rafe, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy/having kids, kook!reader, non-canon ages

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

“So, let’s go over that again. You left the office around 11:30, correct?”

Shoupe’s stare is set on Rafe, almost like he’s waiting for your husband to blink at him wrong, anything to show he isn’t telling the truth.

“It was around that time. I don’t remember exactly.”

You can tell Rafe is fighting the urge to tell the police to fuck off, given the heavy annoyance lacing his tone. You worry he might, his impulse control only lasting so long.

Their incessant questions don’t help, going over every detail of the night Rafe last saw Chase alive.

It’s a strong case of déjà vu for you, Shoupe and the same officer as last time, sitting in the exact same spot on your couch. Except, you can feel the gravity of the situation now. A man you know has been killed.

“And nothing struck you as odd about Chase that night? All he said was bye as he was leaving?”

“That’s all I remember. How many times do I have to tell you I barely saw him that night?”

Whatever Rafe was holding back, he isn’t anymore, his anger getting the best of him. It doesn’t sit right with either officer, their meaningful glances toward each other telling you more than they’ll ever say.

As your eyes rake over your husband, you don’t know why he seems nervous, unable to stop the shake in his leg.

You reach your hand out, the denim of his pants rough under your skin as you stop the uneasy movement.

“I think what Rafe is trying to say, is he’s answered all of your questions, more than once,” you placate. “You seem to be wanting an answer he just doesn’t have.”

Rafe watches you, an appreciation shining in his eyes that he wouldn’t know how to voice to you.

“We would love to help any way we can. But he’s told you everything he knows.”

Shoupe mulls over your words, seeming almost annoyed that you’re making a good point.

“Fine,” he concedes, looking over both you and Rafe. “But if there’s anything you could possibly think of, you know where to find us,” he adds, standing up.

“Of course,” you reply, showing them the way out.

“It’s important to us you find whoever did this,” you say, giving Rafe a pointed look, motioning toward the officers, needing him to show his support.

When he spots this, he nods. “Catch this guy before something else happens. Don’t put our tax dollars to waste.”

He keeps his eyes on Shoupe, his mouth fighting a smirk.

You don’t understand the exchange between the two men, Shoupe’s stare also heavy.

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Shoupe finally retorts after a few tense moments. He’s the first one to look away, nodding toward you. “Have a good day, Mrs. Cameron.”

Once they’re gone, your eyes find your husband, brows pulled together.

“What was that about?” You ask, trying to find an explanation for his rude behavior.

“What?” Now his unpleasant mood is aimed at you, lips parted, brows matching yours, and you almost regret saying anything. “He’s wasting his time with me. He’s wasting my time. He could actually be out there, catching the person who did it.”

You take in his explanation, arms crossed, eyes glancing to the floor before meeting his.

“I get it. But they’re just doing their job,” you explain. “I mean Chase was murdered, Rafe. You know, the guy you used to see at work every day and liked to invite us over for dinner.”

You try to make it clear to him why he should think about someone besides himself.

He swallows at that, now it’s him who can’t meet your gaze.

You sigh, deciding it’s best to drop it. You know how Rafe is, how difficult it is for him to not only process his own emotions, but others as well.

You step closer, your hand finding his by his side, fingers threading together. You feel the cool touch of his gold, signet ring against your warm skin, along with his wedding ring.

He doesn’t move away, and you can’t help but think he looks like a scolded little boy as he finally looks up at you, hair failing into his eyes.

“I know this has been a lot for you,” you start. “You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”

You watch him, hoping he’ll finally open up to you about this whole situation.

Instead, he just nods, his hand falling from yours before he walks to the kitchen, finding his phone.

You have to stop yourself from sighing, showing your disappointment.

“I talked to my dad earlier,” he calls out, walking toward you with his phone in his hand. “He wants us over for dinner on Sunday. Something about wanting everyone together since Sarah’s back for the summer,” he mumbles the last part, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, that should be nice. We haven’t been over there in a while.” You keep your tone optimistic, hoping it will influence his own outlook.

But by the look on Rafe’s face, it’s not working. He seems more distracted than anything else.

“I gotta take this,” he holds his phone up, excusing himself to his office upstairs.

You’re more than aware of Rafe’s strained relationship with his family. Part of you wants to tell him to forget about his father, thinking it would be best for him to release himself from the shackles of desperately vying for his father’s approval.

But you also know that this house didn’t pay for itself. Even if the name Cameron holds weight in certain places, you’d be lying if you said Rafe could get a job anywhere, especially as good as the one he has now.

You thought Rafe having to work for his father could only help the relationship, and it does seem like they’re friendlier to each other, Ward seeing his son as somewhat competent. But the pressure still lies on Rafe to be good enough.

So, all you can do is keep the peace.

Maybe you have your own motives to keep things nice between Rafe and his family. Sometimes, they feel like the only family you have, even if it’s a bit dysfunctional.

You’re an only child, and your parents decided when you moved out that they were going to spend most of their time on vacation, seeing the world they didn’t get to when you were growing up.

Right now, they’re on a Caribbean cruise, the last time you saw them being your wedding.

You miss them, but you don’t really blame them. Maybe you’ll feel the same one day, when your own children are grown up and married.

They were always extremely supportive of your relationship with Rafe, never seeing any issues. Their happiness at the possibility of their daughter marrying into the Cameron’s blinded them.

You’re glad they didn’t see the things you saw because they might not have been as forgiving. You saw firsthand how hard Rafe worked to clean up his addiction, and to stop the tendency to get into fights with Pogues.

But you wonder if they had known, would they have even batted an eye?

JJ doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to sitting in your kitchen. He thinks you’re only pretending not to notice how much he stands out, because you never seem bothered by it. You just smile as you hand him an ice-cold drink. This time, it’s iced tea.

You were folding laundry when you heard JJ slip into the backyard. This time, he didn’t put up a fight, letting you invite him in.

“So,” you say, sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “I heard Sarah’s back for the summer. Is she still with John B?”

“I thought you were her sister-in-law or whatever, wouldn’t you know?” He asks, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Yeah, well, Rafe and Sarah don’t really talk.”

JJ raises his eyebrows, humming, an understanding washing over his face.

“They’re still together. She’s over at The Chateau almost every day now,” he answers.

You smile, nodding. “So, you still see your friends a lot?”

You were pretty removed from the people Sarah started hanging out with during her high school years. They were younger…and they were Pogues. But you cared about her enough to want to know about her friends.

You also knew them for other reasons, ones having to do with a dumb rivalry stemming from your husband’s hatred of Pogues.

You never got to know any of them, talking to John B the most out of all of them.

Until now.

“Yeah. Everyone’s doing their own thing now, but we get together all the time,” he casually says.

“I’m glad to hear that. I remember you all being so close.”

“Hm.” He stops, his brow furrowing. “You remember that before or after we would get the shit kicked out of us by Rafe?”

Your smile falters, eyes finding the surface of the table.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “but he’s different now. So, I should just forget about it.”

Sarcasm drips from his tone, using your own words against you. He raises his eyebrows again, taking another sip, making his point.

“I never said you should forget about it,” you scoff. “I know what Rafe did was wrong. Do you hold what he did against Sarah too?”

“You can’t choose your family,” he shrugs. “I mean she barely talks to him as it is. You married him.” He pauses, blue eyes staring into you. “That means you looked at all that, and thought, I want to be with this guy for the rest of my life.”

He immediately begins to feel bad when you frown. He sighs, realizing he took it too far.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He apologizes bluntly. “You seem nice and all, I just can’t trust someone who’s married to Rafe Cameron,” JJ explains.

“You don’t have to trust me,” you level with him. “And I can apologize for all of Rafe’s wrongdoings over and over again, because I am sorry. But is that really going to make you feel better?”

He looks to his lap, bottom lip between his teeth. He knows you’re being sincere, your eyes genuinely curious.

“You’re right, there’s no point in holding it against you,” he admits quietly.

You nod, taking a moment before saying, “Good, because I actually like talking to you, for some reason,” you add the last part with a smile on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me before,” he says with a smile, the same joking tone.

You’ve been to Tannyhill more times than you could count, and it never fails to impress you.

Rafe has told you more than once, usually when he has a few drinks in him, that one day it will be “ours.” You think it’s somewhat morbid that he’s waiting for the day his father can’t physically have it anymore. But you also can’t help but feel a glimmer of anticipation about being able to call it yours.

As you walk side by side, you can feel the nervousness radiating off of Rafe, even if he tries his hardest to stamp it down.

You say his name, stopping a few feet from the front door, turning toward him.

He looks at you, a question in his eyes.

Before he can say anything, you bring your hands to his firm chest, smoothing out the black polo shirt he’s wearing. You feel him let out a sigh.

“Babe-.”

You cut him off with a kiss, lashes fluttering against his cheek.

“I just wanted to do that before we went in there,” you quietly say against his lips when you break apart.

You get your satisfaction when his lips turn up into a smile.

But your attention is quickly moved when you hear the door creak open.

“Dad said to get the door,” Wheezie says timidly, eyes shifting around.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again, both of you hiding your laughs.

“Hi, Wheezie,” you greet, walking into the cool air of the house.

You hear Rafe say the same right behind you, shutting the door.

“Are you still taking me shopping before Midsummers?” She doesn’t waste a second to excitedly ask you. “Sarah’s too busy and I’d rather go with you than Rose.”

She grimaces at the mention of her stepmother.

“I’ve been looking forward to it. Why don’t we go sometime this week?”

You don’t notice how Rafe watches you make plans with his little sister, an indescribable emotion swimming in his blue eyes.

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” a booming voice announces.

Ward walks into the room with a grin on his face.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m doing good. Nice to see you, Ward,” you reply, still smiling.

As he steps away from you, you notice how Rafe shifts a little, standing up straighter.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Son,” is all Ward says, patting Rafe on the back, his smile more tight-lipped now.

They share a look, something wordless between them before Ward turns to you.

“Rose is in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. And Sarah should be down soon. I’m just going to borrow Rafe for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind,” he checks with you, eyebrows raised.

“No, go ahead,” you nod, watching them head toward his office.

“I’ll go see what Sarah’s doing,” Wheezie says, also going upstairs, leaving you to wander into the kitchen.

It’s not uncommon for Ward to pull Rafe aside to have a conversation, usually about work. But the glance they gave each other was tense, a seriousness there that you don’t know the reason for.

“This looks delicious, Rose. You’ll have to give me the recipe,” you comment, staring at the sauce she’s stirring.

“My mother used to make this all the time. One of my favorites,” she remarks before being interrupted by Sarah barreling her way toward you.

“There’s my favorite sister-in-law,” she calls out, wrapping her arms around you.

“I’m your only sister-in-law,” you say, laughing, squeezing her back.

“Well, I still think if you really wanted to see me all the time, you didn’t have to marry Rafe to do it.” Amusement dances on her lips. “You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” she says, trying not to burst out laughing.

“What? You mean, I didn’t have to do that.” Your tone matches hers, and she’s the first one to laugh as you step away from the heat of the kitchen.

“So, tell me all about your first year at UNC?” You ask, eyes on her.

“It was good,” she says with a lack of truthfulness, her furrowed brow giving her away.

“Are you sure?”

She shakes her head, looking around to make sure she’s out of Rose’s earshot.

“I don’t know. I’m just not sure if college is for me,” Sarah says quietly. You nod and she continues, “I just would rather be doing something else with my life. Not being stuck in a classroom with a bunch of other rich kids who are just going to end up working for their fathers.”

You raise your eyebrows, the implication of her words not lost on you.

“Sorry,” she draws back. “That was harsh.”

“No, I get it. You want something different.”

“Yeah. And I want to be with people I actually like.”

“Like John B?”

An involuntary smile makes her lips twitch as she looks down, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Yes, like John B,” she admits, not fighting her smile anymore. “And before you say anything, I know what it sounds like,” she pauses, staring directly at you. “But I won’t be dropping out of college for a boy. It’s for a lot of reasons.”

“I mean, even if that were the case. I can’t really judge you, can I?” You ask, thinking of your own past, and how picking a school was completely dependent on Rafe. “I think you should do what makes you happy.”

“Can you explain that to my dad now?” She jokes, but her smile is appreciative, like it’s all she needed to hear.

Rafe didn’t say much by the time he came back from his dad’s office, just sitting down for dinner like everyone else. You want to ask him about it, but you know it’s best to let him tell you first.

You all eat under incandescent lighting from the chandelier, shining off the silverware and fine china. There has been slight small talk, but things shift when Ward clears his throat from the head of the table, setting down his fork.

“I just want to say, how grateful I am to have the whole family here, together. The year’s not even close to over, and I don’t know if I can express how proud I am.”

Emotion seeps through his words as his eyes rake over the table, everyone intently listens.

“Sarah just completed her first year at college, with straight A’s,” he adds, his smile only growing bigger. Sarah returns the expression, but you can see the slight insincerity to it.

“We also, officially, welcomed Y/N to the family. Of course, I would say she’s been part of this family for years.”

You sheepishly smile, catching Rafe’s eye.

“And Rafe,” he pauses, staring at his son. “Rafe has been working very hard in his position at Cameron Development. Harder than almost anyone, and I’m not just saying that.” He laughs a little. “That’s why, I’ve decided to make him Cameron Development’s new Chief Operating Officer.”

Your lips part with surprise, quickly turning into a smile as you put an arm around Rafe’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, catching the happiness in his eyes.

“I won’t let you down,” he tells his dad.

Wheezie smiles, thinking it must be a big deal, Sarah doesn’t look impressed, and Rose just casually sips her wine.

“Now, I’m not saying I’m expecting any, but maybe an announcement about a grandchild before the end of the year would be nice,” Ward says, half-jokingly.

Your first instinct is to tense up, even if you try not to, your arm moving so just your palm lies on Rafe’s back.

“I think that very well could happen,” Rafe practically promises.

Your face falls a little, trying to keep a sense of lightheartedness in your voice.

“Well, maybe not this year.”

Rafe turns to you at that, giving you a look only you can see. But he bites his tongue from saying anything.

Ward doesn’t push further, saying he’s happy as long as he gets a grandchild. But the damage is done, Rafe not meeting your eyes for the rest of dinner.

Another silent car ride, this time, you can feel the minutes pass by. Rafe doesn’t say a word to you, and honestly, you’re grateful, knowing you don’t want to argue while he’s behind the wheel.

You dread the moment you get home, but at this point, you should be angrier than he is.

He’s still not talking to you when you get home, setting his things down before going upstairs.

He’s almost casual in his actions, but you can tell by the tightness of his jaw and how he can’t look at you, that he’s upset.

You follow him upstairs, repeating his name.

“Rafe,” you call out. “You’re going to have to talk to me. You can’t just give me the silent treatment.”

You find him in the bedroom you two share, slipping off his shoes.

He finally looks at you, and his eyes are ablaze.

“Did you have to say that?” He bitterly asks.

“Say what? The truth?” Your tone matches his. “I just don’t understand why you’re mad. Do you really not want your family to know we’re waiting?”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“It’s embarrassing, Y/N,” he spits out.

“Embarrassing?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “It’s embarrassing that your wife gets to decide when she wants to have a baby?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head but doesn’t explain further.

“Then what do you mean?” You press.

“It-It’s embarrassing that it looks like we’re not on the same page,” he finally explains, flexing his fingers.

“I agree, Rafe. Then why did you say that? Why did you agree with him when you know I want to wait?”

“Exactly. You want to wait.”

You’re left speechless by his implication, lip almost trembling while you take in his words. This is the first time you’re hearing of this, but you realize certain comments you brushed off might have meant he wanted a baby sooner than later.

“Honestly, it sounds like you don’t want kids at all,” he continues. His face is twisted up, pacing back and forth away from you.

“What?” You ask, your brows knitted together. “I do, you know I do. I just want to be able to grow my career before we have any. You know that.”

“What career?”

You start to feel your chest getting tighter.

“What?”

“You sit at a computer a few times a week. How is that stopping you from having a baby?”

You can feel your eyes starting to sting, not being able to remember a time where Rafe said something so hurtful to you.

“Rafe…” You start.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It sounds like an excuse to me.”

You shake your head, eyes getting glassy.

“Just because you got promoted, doesn’t mean you get to tell me my job doesn’t mean anything.” Rage runs through your voice. “And I hate to say it, but you only have that job for one reason. At least I got my job through my own hard work.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, regret fills you.

Somehow his eyes harden even more as he steps closer to you.

“You mean the job you barely get any money from?” He asks, getting closer until you have no choice but to step back, your body hitting the wall behind you. “Remind me, who paid for this house? Or for your clothes? Or for-for that stupid soap you insist on ordering from France?”

He’s almost spitting in your face as you feel your shoulders dig into the wall.

“Who paid for all of that?” His voice is loud as he asks again, his fingers still flexing and unflexing as you look up at him with tearful eyes.

It feels like an eternity before you answer.

“Your father,” you rasp out.

You watch in fear as he takes a step back from you, his breathing getting rougher before his fist collides with the wall next to your head.

You flinch, moving your face away as you feel his arm almost graze you.

Tears fall freely from your eyes as he tries to steady his breathing, glancing at his red knuckles.

Finally, you see the realization hit him, his eyes softening at your cowering figure right next to the hole in the wall he made.

“Y/N-.” He begins, stepping closer to you.

“Don’t,” you yell, holding up a hand and stopping him.

He tries to say something, but you speak instead.

“Just go away,” you urge him, and after a moment, he does, leaving you at the scene of the crime.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader

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missfrustration · 2 months ago

Text

grip on the barrel (toji fushiguro x reader, 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, shameless smut, canon universe, hate sex, misogynistic and sexist language, degradation, gun kink, muzzle kink, masturbation, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, co-workers, not for the faint of heart

A/n: the following content contains some pretty intense gunplay, and some seriously fine toji content, you have been very warned! on ao3 here!

word count: 2.3k

-----------

“I didn’t think you were the type to torture someone after they spit out everything they know.”

“I didn’t think I would be hired to work with a brat like you.”

The man in front of you methodically wiped off his stained knives before putting them in an engorged purple worm you couldn’t believe was real. You shook it off.

“Maybe if you weren’t so bold in how you handle your missions, I wouldn’t have to help your sorry ass, Toji.”

The man says nothing, choosing to lazily stride ahead of you to the rendezvous spot in the tunnel of back alleys.

Although you were hired specifically for your information-gathering skills and methods, you were not fully briefed on the assigned target, the ‘Vessel.’ Yet here you are, with the secretive organization’s lead hitman at their disposal, Toji Fushiguro.

You catch up to him, pointing a conniving finger at the side of his face. It’s the same side that has that harrowing scar on his mouth.

“And what you did back there? I’ve been doing this as long as you, Toji, and we both know a chump that’ll start talking after a few punches. Bringing in the damn armory fucks up our plan when you start cutting off tongues.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, little lady.” He turns to you, towering over your figure with an intimidating presence that is overly purposeful. The blood on his chest from the mission is prominent, with no intention of him to hide it. “I don’t play when there’s money on the line. If you don’t follow my lead, we don’t do the job right, and you’ll end up like them. Got it?”

You step up to him, unbothered by his threat. He cocks his head at your audacity to challenge him.

“I can work fine on my own. Not my fault your m.o. is shitty enough to have a girl like me work with you.”

“The only time I work with girls like you is when they have hands that please me. Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue at you, rubbing his neck. To him, you’re a pest he’s stuck with that he has no intention to entertain.

“I’m sure they get paid to please you. Must be dehumanizing to fuck a hardass.”

“They’re the ones that end up giving me money. I do too well for them.”

“Jesus, gag me.”

“With that attitude, I won’t.” His comebacks come out with ease, yet they make you want to die on the spot.

“Look, I know you know more about this stupid vessel than the organization does. Not only that, you reveal classified client information to the only suckers that you decide to keep alive. That doesn’t sound like getting the job right; it sounds like you don’t care what’s best for the clients if it’s in the way of your fucking ego. Likely, you don’t even have the brain capacity to process what I just said.”

His face clicks to you as it contorts in anger. In a flash, his fingers fly to your hair, pulling your head by the scalp to yank your eyes to him. His other hand pulls a gun from the creature and aims at the thick of your temple.

His face levels with yours, now flush against your ear.

“I don’t need a wench like you talking shit to me. All you women are good for is being fucked.” His words are like daggers, piercing violently into your ear in booms.

Toji moved quicker than you could process, and your breath hitches from his hands on you. He slams you against a brick wall and the barrel of the gun presses against the side of your head. His hands roughly tangled in your hair, and his annoying mouth pressed to your ear again.

“I got no brain, huh? Say that shit again when I paint yours all over this fucking alley.” His tone is purposeful; the words are annunciated as he buries the gun to your head. He wants you to be scared enough to submit under him.

You should back down now—say you’re sorry about pissing him off and to let you go—yet you’re the opposite of scared. Your hastened breaths seem to be from the terrifying scene presented to you. That’s the natural reaction from someone else in your position.

You try to pry yourself off, only succumbing to his raw strength. But Toji can see the change in your eyes when the weapon is turned on you and your bodies feel so close.

Mmph.

You moan from the hands that hold you, making any words of defense hold no weight. You scramble from his hands to grasp any dignity, but the eyes that were once blazed in hellfire are now doused in curiosity.

“Oh, interesting ,” Toji says, pulling you close as he looks at your heated face. His face is irritatingly smug. “I guess I was right about you, little girl.”

“You fucking asshole,” You seethe. “Just put me down.”

“Oh, do you really want that? I can tell by your eyes that you fucking love this, don’t you?” He glides the handgun down your face, sliding down your chin and now firmly planted on the corner of your lips. “I can shut that dirty mouth up if I wanted to.”

“Like hell you could.”

But you can’t deny the sensation in between your legs when he points the gun at you. He rubs the barrel of the handgun, twisting it against your skin as if to carve it into you.

This same man has killed more people this week than nights in a year. He tortures with no remorse and kills with no feeling—a cold, calculated monster who now turns all of his sadistic tendency towards you. You were so close to death that you could practically taste the power from the barrel that could shoot into your skull at one pull of his finger.

And you can’t help but moan again.

You can’t help but pant from feeling overwhelmed by the dangerous man in front of you. It was like spinning a life-or-death roulette, with each second more thrilling than the last.

“You’re drooling like a mutt. You’re the craziest bitch I’ve met.” Toji laughs. “Why don’t you show me you’re more interesting than women I use off the job?”

Your bloodstream fills will rage, caging your body from total submission. But you know he has you cornered: your biggest turn-on has been revealed.

“You fucking deaf? You can’t do anything better than every girl that’s opened her legs for me.” He snares.

“Asshole.”

Your mouth moves to suck on the gun. The hard rubber of the silencer clacks with your teeth, and your lips clasp a ring around the barrel.

You’re not stupid to know that there are a few more shots in his magazine. Toji shot in the ceiling earlier to intimidate the grunts you got information from. He’s only a trigger away from blowing your head off, yet the level of danger has you moaning on the gun, half-lidded and legs trembling against Toji’s calloused body.

“Jesus,” Toji says.

You notice a glint of exhilaration in Toji’s eye, and a jolt of arousal runs down your spine when you feel the pressure of the gun increase.

Toji shoves the silencer down your throat, watching your lips swallow it down and eyes begin to water.

Above all, Toji was more interested that you haven’t pulled away from the long barrel shoved down your throat, instead your cheeks hollow out. You choose to take it in your mouth, now sucking enough to taste the bitterness of the gunpowder still left on the muzzle.

“Thought I was just some hardass, hm? Now I have you gagging it down like a slut.”

He pulls it out of your mouth, watching you cough out.

“Bastard, I know you like this too.” You say, “You wouldn’t keep going unless you liked it.”

“With some girl thinking she’s all that?” Toji forces your body on the ground with your back flush to the brick wall. “What I want is to have you squirm.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Your ass hurts from that fall, causing you to shift your legs.

“Easy.”

You don’t think you should’ve shifted, as Toji eyes narrow on them. In one fluid motion, he grabs your legs before ripping your cargo pants off of you. He didn’t even spare a second to look at your black lacy underwear before tearing it off. Within seconds, he already has you stripped bare on your bottom half.

Then he grabs his gun again.

“Don’t keep them closed.”

Toji’s hand split into your thighs, cracking them open with sandpaper palms. Even his grip is brutish, and you see your soft skin squish from it. When you tried to close your legs, it seemed that he would wretch your plump thighs wider. He puts himself between them.

You can see the lights in his eyes go off when Toji’s face contorts to sick pleasure. He grabs the gun and dives it between the aching apex of your thighs.

The second the cold muzzle of the gun touches your clit, you feel a wave of warm fuzz. You practically melt into the touch. He languidly rubs it against you, watching you twitch against the gun in sick intrigue.

“Such a deprived slut.”

“And you’re a sick fuck.”

Yet, both of your eyes are glued to the scene. Toji is practically fucking you with the gun with the way it rocked into you. You moaned against him, reveling in the way he could easily mutilate your body if he wanted to. It all made the gun slick against you faster.

A devilish smirk came to your face.

“Put it in.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, obviously persuaded by your offer yet not wanting to give in without pure degeneracy.

“Touch yourself before I do.”

No, this man wants to defile you without holding back. You could practically gag, yet it was lost on the erotic sound on your tongue. You fucking hate Toji, yet you’re hate fucking at its finest with the Sorcerer Killer.

You gather your juice on your fingers before diving into your pink bud of nerves. The thousands of nerves screamed in lust when the skin contacted.

“Shit.”

Toji’s eyes gall to your hands, watching you fuck your sensitive clit. Your hand flicks back and forth so fast that invites Toji to thrust the silencer into you. You feel your walls stretch to the gun, screaming from the pain of the rugged ridges, yet your legs shake from the ecstasy.

The way that Toji grips his trigger makes you lull your head back. Your fingers start to work a pace that rocks you closer. You feel so close, but you stop before you can cum. You want this moment to last.

Toji could give less of a fuck what you wanted.

“Who said you could stop?” Toji says, starting to thrust it inside you at a degenerate pace. He grabs your hair, lunging into your ear.

“Keep. Going.”

You grunt in annoyance, yet you comply like a dog.

Your fingertips come back to your pink bud, rocking your hips against your hand slowly. Toji’s body is pressed against you, focusing on panting and sucking your sensitive ear, encouraging you to keep going. He grunts into your ear, lips taking your lobe, biting it hard enough for you to squeak, thrusting the barrel fast enough to make you cum; it’s all so sadistic, yet you didn’t stop him.

Toji rustles his hand out of your hair and down his pants, popping his hard erection out before immediately beating it off. The way he starts to pant from the sensation, from the vision of you, was both annoying and so enticing. You displayed your dripping arousal to him, watching the movie that was his cock bucking into his hand.

You ram against the wall from the sheer intensity of Toji thrusting his silencer into you, erotic noises come out of your mouth, ripping out of you when Toji bites down on your neck. It was the catalyst for your entire cunt to burst in pleasure.

You burst into animalistic moans as you cum on Toji’s gun, and he sure as hell loved it. He helped you ride that despicable orgasm with each deep thrust of the gun hitting your cervix. The pleasure was so overwhelming your thighs hugged against his body, and you lunged into the crook of his neck. You bit down on the flesh of his shoulder mid-climax, fully enthralled by sheer pleasure that it was almost too much to bear.

Once Toji pulls out of the gun, he eyes down the creamy substance that stained the black exterior. It dripped down like honey before it lifted onto Toji’s tongue. He swallowed it with an insatiable hunger, practically rolling his eyes when his lids fluttered.

“The roughest girls taste the sweetest,” He groans erotically. “It makes me want more.”

“Like you could’ve taken it further,” you panted, starting to get up.

Toji scoffs.

“Oh, that would’ve really killed you,” He darkly laughs, “and I need you to make it to the rendezvous. I’d rather die than have to carry you there.”

“If you keep your vulgarity, I would rather die than have you touch me again.”

“Don’t be like that. I can catch you on a day we're off and easily break you in like a fucking bottle. Get a little vacation from work; I’ll make sure your little legs can’t get up again.”

“Don’t count on it, asshole. Don’t think we’re buddy-buddy just because you made a girl cum for once.”

“Just admit it. You loved it like a filthy little vixen.”

“In your dreams.”

But Jesus, if he can make you feel like that without his dick, you can’t imagine what full-on sex with a cold assassin is like.

There is no fucking way to save this business relationship now.

#fanfic #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x reader #my fanfic

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rinnsverse · 1 year ago

Text

TAG — diluc r.

TROPES: childhood best friends, fluff, slight angst at the end

UNIVERSE: canon-ish

PAIRING(S): diluc x gn!reader

WARNING(S): mentions of alcohol

A/N: shoutout to the anon who helped give me the inspo for this <3

AS LOYAL PATRONS of The Angel's Share, your parents were frequent attenders of all of Dawn Winery’s events - wine tasting, birthdays, or just simple celebrations they were there.

However at your age, you couldn’t drink more than half of the menu and didn’t want to converse with drunken adults. So you were forced to sit inside under the supervision of the maids.

Mindlessly sipping on your juice while looking at the crossword puzzle given to you by the maids as your source of entertainment, you try your best to block out the loud talk outside.

What caught your eye though was a boy quickly going down the stairs, his socks sliding against the wooden floor and making his way over to the woman who was watching over you.

Gently tugging on her skirt to gain her attention, he speaks to her but softly enough for the laughter outside to block it from reaching your ears.

‘Red hair… is that Crepus’ son?’

Smiling softly at the boy, she points over to you leading to two pairs of eyes looking in your direction; straightening up under their gaze, you look to your left and right and point to yourself.

She simply chuckles and nods, giving the boy a soft push in your direction to which he followed and sat next to you on the sofa.

“Hi, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N,” you reply simply, “What’s yours?”

“Diluc.”

“Cool,” you nod, not knowing what else to say.

“Cool,” he replied, also not knowing what else to say.

After a minute of silence you ask, “What do you think they’re talking about out there?”

“Who?

“The adults,” you remark blandly, “Bet it’s about wine.”

“It is a wine tasting event,” he responds, “My dad’s made another drink.”

There was a long silence for a moment. That was until Diluc had invited you to play tag outside since he was getting bored sitting around the house.

Accepting his invitation, he grabbed your hand and walked out the front door and into the vineyard where that game would begin.

“Why don’t we play hide-and-go-tag? I don’t like running a lot,” you offer, not the most thrilled at the thought of running in your nice clothes and then potentially getting stained.

“Mm… alright,” he agreed, and began counting.

“…9…10! Ready or not, here I come!” he announced, softly walking on the grass below his boots, and searching in between the lines vineyards for any sign of you.

After a few minutes of searching in between the vineyards he decides to search the crates next to the sign displaying the fact that there was currently an event taking place.

As he approached the crates he saw your figure dash out of the opening between the sign and the crates the other way yelling:

“You’ll never catch me alive!”

Causing the adults in the area to pause and observe what was occurring. Seeing your silhouette outlined by the lanterns glow run past them, and immediately seeing another - catching a glimpse of red hair - sprint after you, automatically understanding the situation.

“Careful! Make sure to not trip - it’s so dark right now,” a voice called out to the both of you.

“We know!” Diluc shouted back, steadily gaining on you.

Hearing his voice so close to you causes your adrenaline to spike and run faster than before, wind blowing against your face and in your ears.

Making a sharp turn you run towards the nearby lake, careful of your footing as to not fall flat on your face and to get dirty. You eventually get near the water and inhale sharp breaths once you get there.

You eventually hear another tired voice pant out, “Tag.”

Diluc was breathing harder than you, weakly touching your shoulder as to make sure you knew you were tagged and now it.

Your legs were to tired to hold you up and you sat on the sand, breathing slowing down. Diluc soon followed with an ‘oof.’

“We should just stay here,” you breathe out.

“Sounds good,” he sighs.

KNOCKING ON THE door of Dawn Winery as politely as you could, you immediately started speaking the moment the door was answered.

“Hello mr. Crepus, I would like to know where my favorite one of your sons are.”

“Hey! That is so rude,” Kaeya spoke up, pouting by the stairs.

“He’s upstairs in his room,” the older man replied, moving to let you in.

“Don’t worry Kaeya ‘cause Diluc’s about to get yelled at,” you say while speeding up the stairs.

Kaeya took a long look at his adoptive father, “Are you really just going to let them do that?”

“Eh, Diluc needs these kinds of things at his age.”

Slamming his door open with a loud, “Diluc!” caused the boy to jump and sit up in his bed and snapping his book shut.

“Diluc,” you stared at the boy in front of you dead in the eyes, as you silently shut his door - a stark contrast as to how you entered his room, “Why didn’t you tell me you got accepted as a knight of Favonius?”

“I- see, you were really busy with your studies and I didn’t want to bother you-“

“I don’t care about my studies!” you flopped onto his bed, “Well, not as much as you getting accepted into the knights, but still!

“We’re only ten, and here you are getting accepted into the knights! You should’ve told me,” you say a lot more calmer now, sitting on the edge of his bed as he shuffles to sit next to you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he relents, “I promise you’ll be one of the first ones to know when something like this happens again.”

“Pinky,” you tell jokingly, holding yours out.

“Fine,” he huffs out, wrapping his pinky with yours.

“Your it now,” you say with a smug expression on your face.

“Oh my-“ he groans, taking his pinky away from you a taking back his book to read.

The game of tag has been going on for years now, non-stop with random time intervals and rules now added but it’s still a fun nostalgia piece to do.

“What’re you even reading this time around,” you ask, looking at the faint words of the book cover. “The Legend of Vennessa,” you read aloud, “Again?”

“Why not?”

“Fair point I guess, but still. You’ve read that like, what? Five times already?”

“It’s a good book!”

“Whatever,” you sigh.

“Don’t act like you haven’t read a book five times before,” Diluc points out, “Hex and Hound? That has like eleven volumes. How do you even have the patience?”

“No, I can’t get my hands on the last two volumes. It’s sold in Inazuma, I can’t even borrow it from the library like the rest of them,” you huff out.

“That’s tough man,” he remarks.

“It really is. It was left on a cliffhanger too!” you groan.

“What’s a cliffhanger again? I forgot,” Diluc asked, sweat dropping at the look you gave him, “What? I don’t read that often nowadays.”

“You’re left hanging. Dangling on a cliff. With no one to save you.”

“…do you think that’d be something that would happen to me if I’m on duty as a knight?”

“Diluc!”

"SO, CALVARY CAPTAIN now huh?" you teased, leaning your back against Diluc's shoulder.

You were under the tree under Windrise, and just as he had promise four years ago, you were one of the first to know about his promotion. Resting against the bark you watch as he methodically brushes the horses light brown coat.

"I suppose," he chuckles.

"Making history already; youngest calvary captain ever in the Knights of Favonius, heir to Mondstadt's wine industry, and is a vision holder! How does it feel?" you asks playfully, holding a windwheel aster you plucked from the ground and putting it near his face so he could talk into it.

"It really isn't that much-"

"Ah, oh so modest as ever" you laugh softly at his face because of your interruption. Blowing air into the red flower makes its petals spin slowly, "So, is the official Calvary Captain going to show me how to ride a horse or what?"

"So that's why you brought me here." Diluc nods in understanding with an amused look on his face, "Well, you better get up if that's what's going to happen."

"Wait I was just joking-" you couldn't finish your sentence until you were pulled up by him, clutching on the windwheel aster tighter as to not drop it.

Thankfully the horse Diluc had ridden to arrive at

Windrise was laying down so there wasn't that much of a difficulty.

Just as you were adjusting to your new seating arrangement the horse suddenly stood up, making you fall forward only to have your face meet with Diluc's back and grabbing onto the edges of the saddle for stability.

Straightening up, you see your friends face looking at you with a small smile and gently taking your hands off the saddle to place around his waist.

"So you won't fall," he explains, glancing at your widened eyes.

Feeling your heart beat faster you look towards your left at the shallow river created by the waterfall as a way to not gawk at his sheer amount of nonchalance at pulling you closer.

Shifting forward, your press your front against his back as the horse begins to trot forward.

Unfortunately, Diluc wasn't one to go slowly. He placed more force upon the saddle's stirrup causing the horse's light trot to a fast gallop.

At the sudden change of speed you let out a small squeak, hurrying your face into Diluc's back and tightening your grip against his waist and the flower you still held.

Feeling your added pressure against his body, Diluc places a soothing hand against yours wrapped around his waist and rubs his thumb against the back of your hand as an attempt to calm you.

"I suppose that this counts as tag, huh?" he asked playfully, continuing to hold your hand in his.

"Yeah! Sure," you reply quickly, trying to get over the fact that you might've developed a crush on your best friend.

EVER SINCE DILUC’s eighteenth birthday, things have never been the same.

The people of Mondstadt have fallen silent, Kaeya’s usual charming nature turned off, and Diluc hasn’t been seen since.

As you were standing by his fathers grave, placing flowers next to it footsteps were heard approaching you. Looking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of a familiar eyepatch and blue hair.

“Hey Kaeya,” you say, eyes still fixated on the grave in front of you.

“Diluc’s gone,” he spoke, voice trembling.

“What?” your voice was low, not believing your own ears.

“Diluc has left Mondstadt. He left Adeline in charge of the manor,” he explains, voice void of any emotion.

“Do you know where he went?”

“We… we ended things on bad terms,” Kaeya says as if he were holding back tears.

Hearing his trembling voice, you decide not to push any further. “I see.”

“Thank you, Kaeya, for letting me know,” you turn towards him with a somber smile and walking past him.

“Where are you going?” Kaeya called out to you.

“Dawn Winery. Adeline must know something about Diluc’s disappearance,” you say not stopping your footsteps, “At the very least Diluc must’ve left a not or, something.”

“As stubborn as ever,” Kaeya dryly chuckles.

You were going to find Diluc, that was a fact. In your game of tag you were the last one to be proclaimed ‘it.’ You refused to lose to him, you couldn’t stand it.

You refused to lose him.

A/N: goddam this was a long ass fic ; part 2 anyone?

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