#yes this is a personal grievance.

[knife-eared-jan]

Varric, stop interfering in how Solas and I raise our autistic son!

We are not going to teach him masking, thank you very much.

[turbo-tsundere]

Let’s disturb da balance of the universe

[corvidcas]

i think part of the reason people are so hateful about fat people is because theyre not fat, even though they put little to no effort into their diet and daily activity levels. even if they dont live healthy lifestyles and theyre not trying to, and theyre still a "normal" weight. and because theyre ignorant and resistant to learning about how peoples bodily functions vary wildly, anyone who is fat must have brought it upon themselves by being extra lazy or extra glutinous and if they were normal they wouldnt be fat and its soooo easy to not be fat because look at them theyre not fat. which is so fucking stupid because so many people complain about how skinny people exist without "earning" how skinny they are, theyre literally just like that even if they eat tons of food because they're trying desperately not to be skinny. but the opposite cant be true for fat people apparently. fatness is always a direct consequence of abnormal habits apparently.

[bijoumikhawal]

I know we passed around that post of the simulation novelization with Sisko recognizing Julian's hesitation to leave Garak as what he felt for Jennifer, but did they ever talk about it? I don't think Julian ever told Garak honestly- how could you tell someone that, someone you aren't supposed to trust, someone you know can take things and throw them back in your face- but did Sisko ever talk about that moment of self recognition?

[sidesteppostinghours]

i talk a lot about how ortegas approval shaped cynthias perception of her own morality but not nearly enough about how the warping is mutual.

[berlinbabylon]

review of s4 (skip if you don’t want to read criticism)

SPOILER WARNING

so, i finished season 4 a couple of days ago and... i liked some parts of it and one episode was good (episode 8) but for the most part i really absolutely hated this season and i never thought i would say that. in my opinion, it actually got worse towards the end! i must be living in a different reality from everyone else.

i’m sorry. i really am. but i have to get this off my chest:

- charlotte double-wielding guns and shooting up those white hand idiots like she’s in a john woo movie? awesome! except... it was dumb af. this could have been so good, i’m a huge genre fan of this type of action, but not at the expense of a character’s intelligence. there was zero reason for her to barge in there when she did. at least make it seem like they’re just about to kill the good pathologist, have them string him up or whatever and she sees and has absolutely no alternative but to intervene. or have them conclude their meeting and start making for the door. please, i’m begging, just anything to make her desperate actions make sense.

- malu taking a shot for kiddie fiddler wendt? thanks, i fucking hate it. for that matter, i hate what they did to wendt’s character.

- for that matter, awesome lgbt+ rep or uhmm not. reinhold and fred don’t even get a kiss or any significant scene together (the couples date at the very end is cute but too little too late) although fred actually has a fairly important role to play this season. we never even really get to see them talk about his decision to work for that nazi paper. like, what. okay, fred quits at the end, good for him, but does this qualify as a character arc now?

- speaking of lgbt+ rep, them blowing up the esther/edgar/walter polycule only to have walter go “well whattaya gonna do. i loved him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” right as he croaks was the most ridiculous thing i’ve seen in a long while and didn’t land at all. i actually cackled. i can’t believe they turned the complex dynamic they had introduced in s3 into this clichéd jealousy mess that had no nuance whatsoever. i’m stunned people preferred their storyline this season. it didn’t track at all. neither did edgar showing up again (as i had predicted) and gereon believing him about wanting to broker peace in the underworld. el oh el.

- also edgar being like “oh btw we need to kill doktor schmidt, he’s an evil mastermind” was an absolutely ridiculous and lame way to try and advance that storyline. it also just got dumped in there and you don’t get any sense that it’s influencing gereon or his character actions at all. not that he has much of an arc or anything this season anyway but back when the show was still good (and by good i mean exceptional), his drug addiction and guilt complex was a major driving force behind much of what he did, how he behaved at work etc. here, in s4, you have to be grateful that they belatedly remember to send him to confession because he’s a catholic but that scene also just unceremoniously gets dumped in there. not to compare but since we have already seen an absolutely outstanding confession scene this tv season (in interview with the vampire, fabulously acted by jacob anderson), i couldn’t help but notice how the confession with gereon was neither written well, nor particularly acted well, nor integrated in its episode well, nor, in fact, scored well.

- max raabe’s ein tag wie gold is a bop but other than that, this season was not scored well and i say that as someone who owns the first two soundtrack releases on vinyl. there were many times when i noticed that something was off, where the music actively worked against the scene it was supposed to be enhancing. the song at the shabbat dinner was nice but as a jewish friend who i watched it with pointed out, them playing piano on shabbat is very sus, even if they’re a reform household. there was a woman with a wig which indicates (ultra) orthodox. not going to nitpick that scene any further though because the shabbat dinner and abe goldstein’s character in general were a highlight (although i loathed the storyline he was stuck in).

- tell me you don’t want to write actors out of the show without telling me. nyssen and helga have long overstayed their welcome. nyssen they could justify by having him pop up from time to time in connection to the rocket science “plot”. but he’s lars eidinger (who’s great), so. helga has just become whatever they needed her to be. anne marie’s actress had some extremely dodgy acting going on this season, sorry to say. i don’t even want to talk about the idiocy of how they wrote this storyline which could have been extremely good and important. i’ll just say that i laughed my ass off when anne marie clocked abe with her flute but generally it was not a good choice to play these kidnappings for laughs (and i guess these rich people just have no security whatsoever, even after the first kidnapping). there’s a time and a place and this storyline wasn’t it. but rich people, funny, or something. well, they are ridiculous.

- the whole story with the butler. talk about wasting screentime. his götz von berlichingen monologue was also really bad although i was delighted when i heard the verses. it just didn’t land. that goes for many scenes this season imo. i don’t know if it was the directing or what but even stuff that looks interesting on paper just does not come across well. it just comes across as ridiculous and manieriert. but not in the good way. (there is a way to do this well and the show used to walk that line very well. not anymore, it seems.)

- (side note: the frivolity of the movie industry provided the perfect pastiche for that sort of thing in s3. which is why i really vibe with it, as someone who’s a huge fan of 1930s movies. didn’t even mind that they relocated the apex of expressionism into the late 1920s when that’s very ahistorical. but anyway that’s a different topic.)

- actually as a last point on the nyssen storyline, abe goldstein shooting a hole in the ship instead of shooting anne marie in the head made me groan. it was so obviously written that way just to give her a chance to pop up later again. it made absolutely no sense, even if you try to handwave it as an attempt at poetic justice. neither did helga leaving her down there make any sense. she had no way of knowing that abe would kill her or make it seem like he killed her. at that point, helga still looked like she could think straight, she didn’t tumble around deliriously, she made a clear choice. and they just did it for the twist, not because it made sense for the character in that moment.

- the show was always very drunk on coincidences, twists of fate etc in that 19th century charles dickens / victor hugo way and i could dig that for the most part because they had this rich tapestry of social commentary going on. while i can still appreciate the breadth of society that they’re trying to show, it now comes across as shallow, there’s no immersion, i was extremely distanced from everything going on and couldn’t have cared less, which is a damn shame considering that this is where we should start feeling even more involved.

- as for one storyline that i couldn’t have cared less about: everything to do with toni. in fact, i think it would have been far more poignant if we hadn’t seen her for a season and hadn’t known what had become of her after running away and then when we least expect it, charlotte comes across her living on the streets, maybe while chasing a suspect or something. now that’s a coincidence i could buy. and such a scene would play like a gut punch. but they rob themselves of any dramatic impact by wanting to overexplain and overshow and being all pedagogical which is a huge problem in the writing of german tv shows and s4 of babylon berlin has started showing all the hallmarks of mediocre german tv and it makes me feel sick, considering how stylish and epic the previous seasons were.

- toni’s actress is not good. i’m sorry. i just have to say it. but also, they stuck her in a nothing storyline. moritz’ actor fares better but if they wanted to pair off the spares and get rid of them, they needed to do that in a way that would’ve left more screentime for the interesting and/or relevant stuff. like, uhm, everything to do with malu/litten/charlotte etc. it’s a damn crime that they didn’t do anything with lotte being fired from the police and then hired by litten. nothing. she gets to mope around at the bar a little bit and poor jacky gets to be her hapless sounding board (he deserves better, so many characters and actors in this cast deserve better). and then she gets to be gereon’s emotional support system. once again, charlotte is deprived of any and all agency and no, the double-wielding scene does not make up for it. the scenes in that haus sonneborn institution were well-shot, the horror film genre influence was clear, but unfortunately i don’t much care for horror films and i also, at that point, did not much care for toni or her friend or the pathologist (f*ck him for getting rudi killed in a very lame rip-off of stephan’s much superior exit) and we all knew lotte wasn’t going to die. that’s what i mean by immersiveness: where in previous seasons i’d have been on the edge of my seat with tension and dread, this didn’t elicit much emotion from me at all. except for the groan when lotte did her thing at the end there. the only good thing to come out of that was her conversation with gereon about her guilt which was the only time in the entire season where i believed a scene between them, emotionally, and was invested.

- i guess that, on the bright side, she got to be happy. i support that. even though i don’t believe it should have to come at the expense of the show being good. and she still had to go through that awful ordeal of the dance marathon. (one of the few memorable scenes of the season, at the very least.)

- random but i very much liked the actor playing oskar. and he was very much underutilized. really, don’t get me started on the entire debacle that was malu’s storyline. i think i’d rather have watched an entire season set on that zeppelin than what we ended up with.

- litten not even being in the finale should actually be considered a crime against humanity considering he’s literally the best character on the show at this point. for that matter, the trial against katelbach and the undermining of the legal system and the press should have been a much bigger arc and point. katelbach still being a comic relief character only used to bumble about not knowing whether he did propose to behnke or not is absolutely ridiculous. these are the characters we’ve come to know and care about and they were paid absolute dirt in s4. behnke’s best scene was the train heist and even that was not edited or scored well but hey, at least it was amusing and they did something with some sort of flair there.

- going back to lotte for a moment. i’m happy for the charlotte/gereon shippers that they got so much fucking out of them this season (to be crude, then again so is the show) but i can’t be the only one who thought they were awkward as all hell together. i never shipped them but i did always like their dynamic and i thought their kiss in s3 was magical. what they did with them here did absolutely nothing for me, i cringed when she visited him at the station and their idea of sexy talk in between kisses was discussing case-related work. none of it had the levity, flirtation or charm you’d see in a lubitsch film (one of the alleged inspos for this season) although liv lisa fries sold the hell out of her infatuated smiles and looks. volker bruch trying to smile was physically painful to me, however. sure, it could be charming that he’s an awkward turtle duck but considering everything we know about the bts issues, it really didn’t endear me any further. i dread having to watch them be awkward together in future seasons and i absolutely dread lotte’s only purpose being tied up in that. for that matter, how did she earn her badge back at the end? surely not with her double-wielding gun action? but it’s not like the show really cared to pursue this as a storyline or her as a character this season, so why should i care.

- the way they threw rukeli in there at the very end of the season was almost offensively bad. i was extremely excited for him to show up ever since they had insinuated that he’s her half-brother in s3. the actor here was fine (i wouldn’t count on him being accurately or sensitively cast bc german productions usually don’t do this, haven’t checked it, however) but you’re really going to do a whole season where boxing is at the very least on the periphery and you’re only going to throw him in at the end to make some sort of point? we didn’t even get to stay with him and lotte during their first meeting? we’re just supposed to believe they have some sort of relationship now after that camera shot panned out, showing them through the window of the café? i’m sorry but what?

- worst of all: them having him use chalk as white paint to mock the nazis in the audience to make a point. you can’t make a character we’ve barely even met the dramatic and emotional high point of the season. and i’m sorry but rukeli was a real person and in real life he was forced to present himself with bleached hair and white paint in an “aryanized” form, this was part of the abuse he suffered!!! it makes me absolutely mad to think about how they tried to turn this into some kind of empowerment thing here. nevermind that at this point in time, audiences were still overwhelmingly on his side and actually protested against fights being rigged against him. i just absolutely hate everything this scene chooses to be. i also hate how gereon walks up to that one guy who can command~ the crowd and we get a flashback to something that happened in the same episode, like, just 30 minutes earlier, to remind us that this is the guy he refused to shoot so they can defuse the situation in the dumbest most construed way possible. i feel like i’m losing my mind when i see people say that this is good writing. good writing would have involved audiences not needing a flashback to something that happened in the same episode, just because almost nothing in this season is giving anything resembling the appropriate weight and focus.

- speaking of which, the case of the season was so uninteresting and lame i even forgot to talk about it. and i still don’t have anything to say. except one thing: why did weintraub not immediately suspect that something was up with max (the henchman) when that car bomb went up killing the other henchman? because weintraub arrived in the car, went inside, came back outside and suddenly a bomb has been attached to his car in the meantime and max was standing there all the time? like, what?? this season is littered with this dumb shit and maybe it was prevalent in the other seasons as well and i just chose to overlook it because there was so much for me to love but i genuinely can’t believe five adults wrote this season and struggled so much with thinking any of it through. it feels like they just had little chess figures with pictures of the characters attached to them and tried moving them across a board.

- oh and one more thing about the flashback issue. böhm and his family being in that apartment at the very end was an absolutely ridiculous scene. his money issues were well-telegraphed, a little too well-telegraphed if you ask me, and his involvement in the shoot-up was already extremely obvious by the time his wife demands to know where he’s got his money from. that bit where he collapses against the wall and we get all these flashbacks to things an audience that’s half-way intelligent and half-way paying attention has already gotten long ago was just embarrassing for the show. the issue wasn’t just with the flashback, however, it was also with the way it was shot and edited. so many scenes this season really don’t land as intended. i feel bad for the actors because they’re doing their best and they’re also not at fault for this weird issue in german shows where they do really bad ADR (re-dubbing scenes when there were sound issues in the footage from set, it makes dialogue sound very unnatural and strange and the show always had this issue in certain scenes but in this season it’s amplified to the max, i almost couldn’t watch the edgar/gereon reunion because of the bad sound engineering). but woof that böhm family scene could have been a highlight but the way he creepily said something to the effect of them never being separated (probably telegraphing an eventual fate that we call “erweiterter suizid” in german where usually a man kills his family and then himself) and then the show just straight up cutting to the nyssen last will scene without giving any of it the time to sink in was absolutely comical. i’m sorry. but there are scenes this season that feel amateur and i don’t think you can blame it on covid when the editing is at issue.

- having said all of that, i was excited for gereon’s arc this season and imo they never did anything of note with him undercover in the SA. why not have him befriend stennes for real, become conflicted about what he’s trying to do (and, well, in fact him and the police president do want stennes to succeed so it wouldn’t even have been that outlandish). him talking to the police president about the mission at home while his very much indoctrinated nephew is in listening distance was so so dumb omg.

- the stennes putsch which i also was very much looking forward to was such a flop that fizzled out without any real spark. his confrontation with wendt was lame af. the actor is awesome, his interactions with wendt in s3 were intriguing and this what it all leads up to? gdi. i can’t believe they wasted so much time on that homophobic blackmail material plot when it was never even picked up again after it got stennes out of prison. he never should have gone to prison before the putsch, he already had his conflict with wendt from last season, they could have saved so much time on this and dedicated it to something actually interesting. and if you actually want to get into the messiness of homophobia and homosexuality in the SA, röhm and all, you better be prepared to bring on figures like magnus hirschfeld (it’s honestly ridiculous he hasn’t even been referenced on the show yet because he was super famous in berlin and germany in general and also a favorite target of the nazis). reference the harden-eulenburg affair. do something with this. not just have wendt buggering a kid in a park. i like that gräf was quietly pissed at gereon about the whole thing but this should never have been a storyline in the way it was implemented.

- it really ruined wendt on top of things. not that it made him worse as a person because he was already bad before (though lbr it did make him worse ofc) but it made him a whole lot more uninteresting as a villain (he only seemed to find his groove back in the last two episodes). the interesting part of his dynamic with malu in s3 was the intellectual clash of ideologies. while i did not and do not ship them, i was very intrigued to see where they would take that in s4. well, i have my answer. they skipped any and all interesting and relevant development and turned it into an extremely clichéd and lame honey trap plot because we all know communists loved honey traps. groan. (yes, i watched the americans.) also, rilke is my favourite poet and has been for many many years and wendt needs to keep his words out of his damn mouth. i can’t believe they revealed that wendt used to sexually abuse underaged boys and still wanted us to think that his relationship with malu is in any way romantic, cute or intriguing?

- i was so rooting for doktor völcker to get him and then malu just had to take a bullet for him. bruh. just when i thought i couldn’t hate this season more. i know i already mentioned it but still. at least she didn’t die from it, small blessings, but her getting shot straight through the chest and then being back to spy shenanigans on the zeppelin not much later was just the height of ridiculousness. i always hated the train confrontation between gereon and bruno and it seems that the show is very very determined to evermore move towards that pulpy comic book-y version of the show that i can barely tolerate in order to get to the good stuff. but when there’s barely any good stuff to get to, it gets tough.

- do i even want to talk about edgar? him taking the kids away from esther was lame. anything to do with esther was lame. i can’t even muster more to say and edgar/gereon was one of my absolute favourite dynamics in s1/2 so i should’ve been overjoyed to see it make a return here. but, in the eternal words of the matrix: not like this.

- finally, doktor schmidt, eh? well. where to begin. first of all, jens harzer is one of the best living german actors, he’s phenomenal, and the fact that he still gets so little development is a fucking joke, frankly speaking. i might have liked his scene with alfred lying on the floor best. at least it was funny. his sessions with gereon were hamfisted in their analogies. his last scene with gereon also didn’t land, it was just groan-worthy. gereon repeating back his words just made it all the more obvious how much of their luster they have lost at this point. i can’t believe someone spoke schmidt’s platitudes in a serious way like some sort of cool mic drop when the “quelle der angst” stuff only works in that hypnotic evil drugged out therapy session way jens harzer says it. the cgi was also bad but that’s neither here nor there (there was a surprising number of badly lit and framed scenes in this season, idk if they changed cinematographers but even the staple shot of following a centered gereon with his hat around became extremely overused). the thing is that i’ve long been convinced that doktor schmidt isn’t actually anno / gereon’s brother, so i should be happy that he seems to be finally be revealed as a svengali type which i also find very fitting for the movies and culture the show references as well as the history it tries to reflect (in fact, this season was as thematically rich as ever, with many metaphors and analogies for the rise of evil etc etc but what good is that if it’s all pedagogical and the actual character writing is either non-existent or utter bullshit?). they’ve dragged this out for too long now. they also, and this might be the worst offense, have completely lost the connection gereon is supposed to have to this plot. nevermind helga or moritz. have doktor schmidt be a svengali figure, fine, love that, i vibe with it, but that doesn’t mean this plot should have no advancement. it really feels like they treaded water for as long as they could because they only had a very vague idea of where they wanted to go with this and still needed to figure out the details. well, hire some fucking writers (and by that i don’t mean hire your wife, like one of the director/writers did for s4).

- i’ve really come to loathe this very german tradition of producers, directors and others thinking they can write scripts themselves and that there are barely any decent writers around who are just that, writers. we have some that are barely okay but the structural issues of underpayment etc ensure that the talent that exists can’t turn this into a job. instead you really just have nepotism and all those people who think they can write but where the wheels eventually come off. now i’ve loved babylon berlin for a very long time, i’ve been there since the beginning, i’ve actually been there since the first press announcement (the show spent a lot of time in production hell before s1/2 saw the light of day, the budget kept ballooning etc). and i will say that i think the first three seasons featured some of the best that german tv has to offer. (s3 slightly less so but it was still entertaining and i think they did a really good job introducing a number of great characters like malu and litten in it, plus sabin tambrea is always fun!) but i must now question whether i was not more so taken in by the direction, the music, the style, and some very expertly shot and executed scenes that the show either cannot or does not want to afford anymore. the type of scenes that are needed to let the wild and often nonsensical plotting breathe and give the characters a chance to shine, to give all of it depth and resonance. i’m really so profoundly sad by the direction this show’s quality has taken and i have no idea whether it’s because one of the directors did more this season than the others, whether it was because of the new writers (i hope not). whatever happened, they had enough prep time and this just ain’t it.

- last point: i know how annoying it is when a show that you love gets hated on by others, so this is the last thing i’ll say about that. but i really needed to get this off my chest because i’ve been loving the show for a very long time, i’ve been investing a lot of time (not so much in recent years but before that) into spreading the word, at least here on tumblr and irl where i got several people into the show who all disliked s4 as well btw, i loved making gifs (which is also why i’d say i have a very good eye for the cinematography and style of the show and all the finer details but gif-making isn’t a real credential ofc lol). and i’m usually quite chill about stuff, i’m neither a super stan even when i love something (which is also why i didn’t watch it first thing it came out) nor am i a hater when i don’t like something but a case like this, where i genuinely loved something and it turns sour, that hurts, man. i’ll probably watch the next season - if there’s a next season! - because i still hold out hope that it might be better, i think it’s an important history to tell and the show had everything set up in order to tell it. there are two gif sets i want to make of this season (which is also always a good gauge for me to tell how i feel about something, and even those sets aren’t sets i absolutely want to do but i’ll do them nonetheless at some point; probably). after that i don’t think i will use this blog much anymore but i’ll keep it online for as long as tumblr is online because i always find it annoying when other people delete their stuff.

so long und auf wiedersehen!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as "let's see if will roland's birthday prompts any billions production clues from posts castmates may make about it" continues to yield "no one's posting about it, while some castmates post about other people's birthdays," already having more thoughts abt [i'm sure he'll show up in at least one episode even if only to be written out] type things like:

a) would be insulting if winston is fired to serve a subplot about philip and taylor having some difficulty in finding their footing re: working together as coheads, like, we're good at anticassandraing things and have gone "lol what if philip & taylor disagreed abt quants in that philip preferred winston. which he feasibly could," so what if instead it's philip arguing that winston should be fired to streamline things or because everyone who's not taylor will want him gone b/c they dislike him, and in learning how to successfully work together, taylor's like well alright. like, don't pit these elements against each other the insult is instead just Anyone, higher ups or lower downs, wanting winston gone b/c they dislike him, so he's fired

b) winston getting bullied by anyone or everyone is seen as him distracting them &/or provoking it with his presence, so he's fired winston being friends w/tuk is seen as a bad influence of loserdom on the latter (or distraction, or annoying, or w/e) so he's fired some Problem that needs solving or otherwise some need to fire Some people that really doesn't have much to do with him gets him fired anyways. like 5x05 all over again, isn't it always. or even if he's particularly involved in some problem you know it'd be something other people could get away with just fine. see:

c) what's even "a problem" like that despite everyone being in a hostile workplace, winston is especially, and we're so graced with dollar bill back on the premises who has already harassed and threatened and assaulted him (not only limiting the lattermost to something like "did he hit you, and like, closed fist, and i mean pretty hard. well that's just what he's like, you're fine." or the way like sabotaging a toilet is just epic pranks and only a problem if something looks bad to theoretical investors and we should talk about what tmc people might be doing to deserve it) while rian has been holding down the fort bullying and using winston. perfectly in line with everything if this kind of thing prompting any hostility in turn is like, nobody blinks at the other stuff, wherein if anything everyone keeps trying to fix dollar bill's feelings for him and talk about how who he's being awful to needs to appease him asap, and rian simply Wanting to use winston as a chew toy is just taken in stride while separately people have already been motivated by theoretically looking out for her / supporting her in various ways as well. whereas if winston Acts like he regards her as a hostile party, which she is, rather than seeming to operate in good faith that they can have regular constructive basic respect interactions, which he does while those decent interactions seem to come through rarely and unreliably, then i'm sure he'd be seen as mean / starting shit / out of line / etc, especially when it seems him Disrespecting the Rules & Social Hierarchy that should disallow him from like, speaking unless it's to self-flagellate, means people see him as aggressive or whatever. basically the classic scenario like, kid's bullied at school, they're supposed to just ignore it or it's otherwise "not that bad" / stuff gotten away with, even if supposedly it's like well just tell an authority figure here, that won't/doesn't work, any resulting obvious tension/dislike between the kid and whoever is like "uh oh, a Both Sides problem" at best, same if there's a physical fight or something or else it's like well That was unacceptable and if it was initiated by Your reaction to all other kinds of terrible treatment for however long, you're the problem. not that i expect winston to throw a punch about it, but, figuratively / parallel to this scenario

d) winston is sick of his deluxe hostile environment, doesn't actually like whatever coheading changes, sick of rian and/or dollar bill specifically, and/or doesn't appreciate some other goings-on, like one that results in him even being threatened with firing, and gets to just quit as has regularly seemed like something he might want to do anyways since 4x11 and intermittently on

e) not really another Way to imagine they kick him out but was thinking how like, Is a reason we're shown that taylor and rian hugging in the middle of an office was seen by i guess winston alone gonna be further relevant at all and about him making anything of it, which, he really couldn't possibly be wrong about any inferences. but going :/ at the taylor and rian dynamic just as a spontaneous, contained event would be self-explanatory too. but had the thought of like, maybe it's all "well taylor's been here 5 seasons and is in a more prominent position than last season, throw a PR problem at them for the first time for real, just as a shakeup / something that throws them off" wherein like winston wouldn't even have to be there to be cited in something like yeah i was fired or quit or whatever else and my former boss is dating an employee i think. or seems to have a real personal preference for them if not personal somethingship. which is true lmfao like? even if winston ""wrongly"" assumes they're dating like "oh sorry these claims are ridiculous, i only proposed as much to this employee who i already was informally mentoring and do favor such that she was promoted offscreen after like half a season to be able to make trades and this only came up when her using that capacity to do some shit she could've been fired for had me like 'but i'll take the heat for it' b/c any feeling that i'd wanna fire you is worth working through as a personal problem, and that employee turned me down not only just b/c apparently dating through work is too much (but not hooking up through work) but because she's afraid of how much she could love me, and now we're further personal somethings or who even knows what's ever been going on and so who can say if we were supposed to have fully closed the door on dating or not, even." wherein like....someone then doing further research consulting with every named tmc employee, in this hypothetical (and ignoring any hypothetical new, named/dialogued hires) scenario all now Former employees except rian who clearly won't have been firedor quit at the start of season 7, b/c yknow god forbid lmao....like, oh i'm taylor's best friend so no comment except that when i'm mad at them i'll apparently say that i always thought they inhumanly don't have feelings and all, very helpful. then there's like, oh yeah i was taylor's employee and dated them until business misalignments lead to a less than ideal breakup, and then kind of an aftershock of that for fun i guess. and then yeah i was also taylor's employee and knew they were dating another employee and i disapproved if only b/c i told them it could look bad but then also one of the reasons leading up to my quitting was having difficulty getting in touch with them while the other employee lived with them at least part of the time and i didn't seem to be a fan of that bonus access re: discussing business getting in the way of the formal structure / chain of command or whatever at work as well which is part of what i was already there to file a complaint over, so....even just the "it does look bad / people do think you leverage status for access to sex through employees" like no but that's My boss though. but also just that yeah taylor has at least tried to date employees twice, and their personal preference does affect professional matters, though that's also just like, pick any place of work and any slice of it, may not be a meritocracy after all versus how much it matters that some people are popular and/or liked by the right people while others can be recognized as Good Employees on paper but be left where they are or antagonized by peers or higher ups b/c of "failing" at the popularity contest aspect. and this could just be some new Kind of problem for taylor, and/or their just having to question themself more. or else go "ugh leave it to winston" and shrug it off once whatever's smoothed over.

f) winston isn't fully written off but rather it's something zany like, the twist is dollar bill coming back (god forbid he didn't either) while mafee, who evidently sees taylor outside work despite it all, is like eh we'll get dinners sometimes too, and does not likewise return despite saying he's the one who'd consider it. winston, being fired, or having quit, or just being unhappy w/things enough to consider it, is like well you're kind of regular at me sometimes and can't yell at me abt loyalty to taylor if neither of us work for them and you have weird confusing ideas about how they should be loyal to you if anything, and i can do the work of 50 phds, and i know you don't know shit abt the math and quanting but if you just leave it up to me entirely, that's pretty much been my work experience thus far anyways. then he'd be filming on different sets, possibly more rarely, and also dan soder has been likewise elusive but is also on site on the two even vaguely or implicitly [s7 production] related pics will's turned up in.

g) idk billions feel free to prank us where once again between seasons we worry winston could be written off but then he isn't, but elusivity paired with suddenly now castmates w/no mention of him for [march 5th] and [we are doing any bday acknowledgments] overlaps that otherwise get posts, especially. weird even if he Was written out in ep one but okay then

[svsorov]

unfortunately i do fundamentally want to be kind

[obituarybug]

Hate when I read an AU fanfiction and it's like. This is just your OC you just added a character's name to it

[sound-and-colors]

i just gotta say something for a hot min. the 2024 best national universities by usnews was released and i gotta laugh. you’re telling me cornell is number 12 and it’s tied with columbia and uchicago??? 12!!! the college that’s consistently ranked as having one of the highest suicide rates?? the one where they had to install nets under all the bridges and students were required to take a swim test to graduate in case you “accidentally” fell into one of the gorges? the one where every year a different frat house was shut down completely because of misconduct? the one that costs $70,000 per year to attend? bffr i hate that place

actually, fuck all ivy league and “elite” universities yall aint shit and transferring to a public state school was the best thing i ever did and i wish they all got the kind of recognition and attraction that the top 20 get but they don’t because the romantic academic aesthetic is missing and the buildings aren’t as old or whatever

[hollow-prey]

My Otome Hell experience would be so much more enjoyable if I could block the characters I don't want to talk to or interact with. Let me block their contacts and chats like a real phone and make it abundantly clear that I don't like them. Or at least give me options to steer my interactions towards "I just want to be friends" or "do not perceive me I don't want to talk to you" and have them actually listen while I pursue the character I actually like, instead of the game constantly forcing me into chats I hate/flirty interactions I don't want and either giving me no option to say "no" or having my "no" answer mean nothing to these idiots (i.e. "let's do this thing!" "no thanks" "hm, too bad, you're coming with me anyway! See you at 5!"). I KNOW who I want to romance and pursue!!! So stop forcing me into flirty interactions and dumb scenarios with the other characters against my will even when I say no.

[pucksandpower]

Actually, It’s Doctor

Max Verstappen x doctor!Reader

Summary: you worked hard to earn your title and Max is determined to make sure everyone shows you proper respect by using it

Warnings: misogyny and Jos Verstappen

The soft glow of the TV casts flickering shadows across Max’s living room as he lounges on the couch, idly scrolling through Twitter. You’re tucked into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you watch the highlights from last week’s race play on a loop.

“Liefje, have you seen these?” Max’s brow furrows as he angles his phone toward you.

Onscreen, the camera pans across the Red Bull garage, finally settling on you perched on a stool in the far corner. “... And there’s Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,” the commentator’s voice booms out.

You shrug, unfazed. “It’s not a big deal.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Not a big deal? Y/N, you worked your ass off to become a doctor. You deserve to be addressed properly.”

Reaching out, you place a calming hand on his arm. “Really, it doesn’t bother me. I know who I am.”

Max’s jaw tenses mulishly. “Well it bothers me. They can’t just disrespect you like that on international television.” He jabs a finger accusingly at the screen as the video replays the offending line.

“Max ...” You try to interject, but he’s already dialing, phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Hey mate, it’s Max. I need you to do me a favor ...”

You settle back with a resigned sigh, listening as Max lays out his grievances in rapid-fire Dutch. He’s not going to let this go, you can already tell.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Max ends the call with a satisfied nod before turning to you with those intense grey eyes. “There, all sorted.”

Arching one eyebrow, you regard him skeptically. “And what exactly did you sort out?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “From now on, the F1 broadcast has been instructed to address you properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You blink at him in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that ...”

But Max just shakes his head. “Yes, I did. You’ve worked too hard and come too far to be disrespected like that.” His palm cups your cheek, calloused thumb stroking over your skin. “I’m so proud of you, schatje. And the world should know it too.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Max has never been one for grandiose romantic gestures, but the fierce protectiveness in his voice, the conviction that you deserve to be recognized for your accomplishments ...

Leaning in, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, trying to convey all the love and gratitude and awe you feel for this incredible, complicated, passionate man. His fingers tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, bodies pressing closer together.

When you finally break apart, faces flushed and breathing ragged, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Doctor,” he murmurs teasingly.

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “Why Mr. Verstappen, are you trying to seduce me with fancy titles?”

“Is it working?” His eyes dance with unmistakable mirth.

“Maybe ...” You draw out the word coyly. “Although I do seem to recall a wise person once telling me that actions speak louder than words.”

Max grins wickedly. “Well, in that case ...”

He swoops you up into his arms in one smooth motion, your surprised squeal quickly morphing into breathless giggles. Carrying you bridal-style down the hallway, he kicks open the bedroom door with a wink.

“Let me show you just how much I respect and admire my incredibly brilliant, accomplished, sexy-as-hell doctor girlfriend.”

The door slams shut behind you with a decisive thud.

***

The bright flashes of cameras periodically illuminate the night as Max strolls down the red carpet, your hand tucked securely in the crook of his elbow. He cuts an impossibly dashing figure in his sleek tuxedo, but it’s the look of unabashed pride on his face as he glances sidelong at you that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You smooth one hand over the deep emerald silk of your gown, trying to tamp down the nervous flutter in your stomach. This whole evening feels almost surreal — like something out of a fairy tale you couldn’t possibly belong in. Max Verstappen’s date at the illustrious FIA Prize Giving Gala ... who would have thought?

As if sensing your trepidation, Max leans in close, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave in that way that never fails to send a shiver down your spine.

You bite back a giddy smile, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Four-Time World Champion.”

Max’s answering grin is all cocky charm. “Don’t I know it.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you continue posing for the photographers lining the carpet, Max’s steady presence at your side anchoring you. He squeezes your hip lightly, a silent reminder that he’s right there with you.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from the crowd. “Max! Max Verstappen, over here!”

A sharply-dressed reporter waves you both over, camera crew hovering behind him with bright lights. Max tugs you closer as you make your way through the throngs of people.

“Max, congratulations on another incredible championship season,” the reporter gushes, angling his microphone toward your boyfriend. He turns to face the camera with a wide smile. “Here with me tonight I have reigning four-time world champion Max Verstappen and his lovely date, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You tense automatically at the mislabeling, a small cringe already forming on your face. But before you can open your mouth to correct the reporter politely, Max is speaking up, the hard line of his jaw set in familiar determination.

“Actually, I’d appreciate if you could refer to her properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N,” he interjects smoothly, not even giving the reporter a chance to respond. “My girlfriend worked incredibly hard to earn that title, and she deserves to be respected for her accomplishments.”

The tips of your ears burn hotly, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude flooding through you. You lay a calming hand on Max’s arm, opening your mouth to try and defuse the situation. But he barrels on relentlessly.

“It’s important to show that level of professional courtesy, you know?” His eyes blaze with conviction. “Especially for women who have overcome systemic barriers and discrimination to achieve such academic prestige. Using the proper titles isn’t about inflating egos, it’s about acknowledging the years of dedication and sacrifice required to reach that level of expertise.”

The reporter blinks rapidly, clearly caught off guard by Max’s passionate monologue. He rallies quickly though, nodding along with his points. “You’re absolutely right, of course. Thank you for that, Max, and my sincerest apologies Dr. Y/L/N. We should always aim to address people with the titles they’ve rightfully earned.”

“Exactly.” Max nods curtly, wrapping one possessive arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his side. “Now, I believe you had some questions for us?”

The reporter visibly shakes himself before continuing on with the standard red carpet patter about Max’s season, his hopes for the future, and so on. You can’t focus on the questions though, too distracted by the firm press of Max’s palm against your hip and the low thrum of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Max never fails to take your breath away with moments like this — these fierce outpourings of protectiveness and respect that lay bare how much he values you and everything you’ve accomplished. The man has no qualms about wielding his global platform and considerable influence to ensure you get the recognition you deserve.

Finally, the interview wraps up and the reporter thanks you both profusely, his cheeks still tinged faintly pink from Max’s earlier dressing down. Your boyfriend just nods tersely before steering you further along the carpet, his large hand spread possessively across the exposed skin of your lower back.

You make it maybe twenty feet before whirling on him, tangling your fingers in the lapels of his immaculately-tailored jacket to tug him down to your level. His eyes widen momentarily in surprise before you’re crashing your lips against his in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Max melts into you instantly, broad palms skimming over the curves of your waist and hips to pull you flush against his solid frame. You pour every ounce of adoration and devotion into the dizzying slide of your mouths, uncaring of the roar of the crowd and the bright flashes going off all around you.

When you finally break apart, his grey eyes are dark with undisguised want and his lips are curved in that trademark smirk that constantly sets your pulse racing.

“What was that for, Doctor?” He husks out, voice gratifyingly gravelly.

You shake your head slowly, still trying to catch your breath. “Just … reminding myself how lucky I am to have a man who loves and respects me so fiercely.”

A muscle ticks sharply in Max’s clenched jaw, the naked emotion simmering in his gaze rendering you breathless all over again. Then, a brilliant grin slowly breaks across his face, all boyish charm and devilish mischief.

“Well, in that case ...” He drops one last lingering kiss to your swollen lips. “Wait until you see what I have planned for later tonight.”

You can’t contain the giddy giggle that bubbles up from your chest as Max takes your hand once more, tugging you along the red carpet and into the venue with a wink. Whatever this man has in store, you have a feeling it’ll be a night neither of you will ever forget.

***

The sleek lines of Max’s private jet gleam under the harsh airport lights as you stroll across the tarmac, rolling suitcase in tow. A much-needed tropical vacation with you awaits at the other end of this flight — a chance to truly unwind away from the pressures and demands of the racing season.

Max can’t wait. Just a blissful week of sun, sand, and uninterrupted time with his favorite person in the whole world.

A blonde woman in a crisp uniform waits at the foot of the airstairs, offering Max a bright smile as you approach. “Good afternoon, Max!” She chirps in a saccharine tone. “I’m Kayla, and I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

You slow to a stop beside him, posture stiffening almost imperceptibly at the overly-familiar greeting. Max merely arches one brow, bristling at her use of his first name without any invitation to do so.

Before he can address it, Kayla seems to finally register your presence, gaze sliding over dismissively. She lets out a tinkling giggle. “Oh and you must be Max’s sister! It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Verstappen.”

There’s an audible record scratch in Max’s brain as he processes the absolute audacity of her assumption. His mouth drops open, ready to unleash the full force of his outrage at her egregious lack of professionalism and respect.

But you beat him to it, bristling visibly in the face of her blatant disregard.

“Excuse me?” Your voice is low and clipped, laced with icy disdain.

Your sharp tone finally seems to penetrate Kayla’s vapid haze. She blinks owlishly, looking between the two of you with dawning confusion. “I just thought, since you were traveling together ...”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Max finds his voice again, steel underpinning every syllable. “Y/N isn’t my sister, she’s my girlfriend. The woman I love. And you’ll address her with the proper respect she deserves.”

Kayla’s cheeks flush a mottled crimson, eyes widening in mortification as she finally seems to grasp the gravity of her blunder. “I … oh, I’m so ...”

“Doctor,” Max interjects coldly, cutting off her pathetic attempt at an apology before it can start. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. Show her the bare minimum of professional courtesy or ...”

The unspoken threat hangs in the air between them, loaded and menacing. You lay one hand on Max’s arm, both a calming gesture and a bit of moral support. But there’s a glint of gratitude and admiration in your eyes despite your sedate expression, letting him know you appreciate his fierceness in your defense.

Kayla gulps audibly, seemingly realizing she’s overstepped in about the worst way possible. “You’re absolutely right, sir,” she rushes out, backpedaling rapidly. “I should never have presumed or spoken so informally. My humblest apologies, Dr ...”

“That’s enough.” Max holds up one hand, nostrils flaring in barely contained disgust. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

His piercing stare drops meaningfully to the monogrammed name badge pinned to her blazer lapel. “Kayla, was it? Well, Kayla, I suggest you turn around and walk yourself off this plane before I have someone remove you physically.”

The blonde blinks in shock, mouth working silently. Scrambling to process his words, she finally casts one last beseeching look towards Max. “But … sir, I was sent here to ...”

“Did I stutter?” Max snaps, all hints of affability evaporating completely. He jerks his head sharply towards the hangar. “Get off my plane, now. I’d rather fly with one less flight attendant than subject myself or my girlfriend to any more of your pathetically disrespectful behavior.”

That seems to finally sink in, Kayla’s porcelain complexion draining of what little color remains. She dips her head in a jerky nod before turning away, hurrying back towards the hangar without another word.

Max watches her retreating form for a few moments, muscles still taut with simmering irritation. Only when she disappears into the distance does he draw a deep breath and turn back towards you.

The pride and adoration written across your beautiful features instantly soothes some of the lingering embers of his temper. You pull him down for a searing kiss, not caring about any potential onlookers on the tarmac around you.

When you finally break apart, Max rests his forehead against yours, reveling in your closeness. “Sorry about … that,” he murmurs gruffly. “I just can’t stand people showing you so little respect.”

You shake your head, not even trying to conceal your grin. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I didn’t have to call her out myself.” Your expression softens as you stroke one palm over the tense line of his jaw. “Thank you for always having my back, for defending me like that. It means everything.”

The utter conviction and sincerity in your voice washes over him in soothing waves. Max feels the last knots of tension bleed from his muscles as he pulls you flush against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo.

“Always,” he vows simply. There are no words grand enough to encapsulate the depth of his devotion, his intense desire to protect and cherish and uplift you in the face of anyone’s disrespect or scorn. You are his everything, the prime motivator driving him to be a better man each and every day.

So instead, Max simply loops one arm around your waist, tugging you towards the jet’s waiting airstairs without another look back. This vacation, an entire blissful week alone together away from the pressures and prying eyes of the world, is exactly what you both need.

As he settles into the plush leather seating, Max makes a silent vow to ensure you never feel anything less than worshiped during your time here.

No hateful outside influences, no ignorant people speaking over or degrading your incredible accomplishments. Just him and you, exactly as you’re meant to be — deliriously, perfectly happy together.

***

The low hum of conversation and clinking silverware fills the upscale restaurant as Max tries his best to bite his tongue. Across the table, Jos nurses a glass of scotch, regarding you with poorly veiled disdain.

Max had hoped tonight might be a step towards mending the long-fractured relationship with his father. He should have known better.

You don’t seem to notice the tension though, chatting amiably about your work at the hospital and asking Jos questions about his life and experiences in racing. Your polite interest only seems to antagonize the older man further.

When you finally excuse yourself to visit the restroom, Jos turns that signature Verstappen glare on his son. “She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” He sneers. “Got to hand it to you, Little Miss Golddigger over here has expensive taste.”

White-hot rage lances through Max’s chest so violently he sees stars. He knew his father was an asshole, but openly insulting you like that is a new low, even for Jos. His fists clench convulsively atop the crisp linen tablecloth.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” Max bites out, every muscle in his body pulled taut. “You don’t know the first thing about Y/N.”

Jos just scoffs derisively. “I know enough. Doctors make good money, but her own bank account clearly isn’t enough. She’s clearly after the next big fish.” His gaze drops meaningfully to Max’s watch — an ultra-rare Patek Philippe. “She’s a user, son. You could do so much better.”

“Are you serious right now?” Max can scarcely believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N is the most kind, caring, and accomplished woman I’ve ever met. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve her!”

His father lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh yeah, I can really see how much she cares with the way she keeps trotting you out like a trophy to boost her own reputation.”

That does it. Max slams his palms down on the table, entire frame vibrating with suppressed fury. “Enough! I won’t just sit here and listen to you degrade the woman I love with your bullshit cynicism.”

Jos opens his mouth — likely to unleash another torrent of vitriol — but Max cuts him off with a curt slash of his hand.

“No, you don’t get to say another damn word about her.” His voice is low and menacing, achingly familiar echoes of a younger, angrier version of himself. “Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She makes me want to be a better man. And you’ll show her the respect she deserves or so help me god ...”

The unspoken threat hangs heavy in the air between them. Max doesn’t even know how he planned to finish that sentence. Part of him wants to throw the whole table aside and … and what? Deck his own father right here in the middle of this fancy restaurant? The fact that he can’t dismiss the thought outright is deeply unsettling.

The harsh smack of footsteps against tile breaks the tension as you reappear, looking concerned at the obvious storm cloud over their table. “Is everything alright?”

Max blows out a harsh breath, raking one hand raggedly through his hair as he glances between you and Jos. Stifling waves of rage still roll through him, transmuting into an almost desperate need to get you away from his toxic father.

Without a word, he pushes back from the table and rises to his feet. Taking your hand in his, Max tugs you toward the exit, movements jerky and abrupt.

You follow without protest, though your brow furrows in bewilderment. “Max? What’s going on, where are we ...”

He cuts you off as you spill out onto the street, the cool night air doing little to douse the fire burning in his chest. Unable to properly explain with coherent words, not when the image of his own flesh and blood spitting such venom is searing into his brain, Max simply shakes his head.

The only thing he knows is that he can’t subject you to any more of Jos’ cruelty, not tonight. Tomorrow he’ll try to find the words, to unpack whatever new trauma has been dredged up by his father’s verbal assault. But for now, he just needs to put as much distance between you and that devil as humanly possible.

Jos appears in the doorway behind you, and suddenly Max is whirling back to face him. He jabs one finger at the older man, a muscle ticking dangerously in his clenched jaw.

“And just so we’re crystal clear ...” His tone is biting, dripping with disdain and finality. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. You’ll address her properly or you won’t address her at all.”

With that parting shot, Max turns sharply on his heel, wrapping one arm around your slender waist as he all but drags you down the sidewalk. You stumble briefly to keep up before settling into pace beside him, head swiveling back and forth between his thunderous expression and the figure of his father staring after you both.

By the time the restaurant has faded from view, enveloped in the shadowy darkness, Max can finally feel the vise around his chest loosening somewhat. The chilly night air fills his lungs in great gulping breaths, methodically smothering the raging inferno of his temper.

Eventually, you slow to a stop beneath a streetlamp, cupping his cheek in one soft palm and angling his face down to meet your gaze. There’s so much tender concern and patience swimming in your deep eyes that it makes his heart stutter traitorously. After so many years of his father’s toxic influence, Max sometimes wonders if he’ll ever stop being bowled over by such simple compassion and care.

“Talk to me,” you murmur, thumb stroking soothingly over his flushed skin. “What did he say? What happened back there?”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment before the words finally tumble out in a hoarse rush. “He … that bastard, he called you … he said ...”

You wait, saying nothing, just letting him gather his thoughts in the wake of such overwhelming emotion. How did he ever get so lucky as to have someone like you in his life?

Finally, the full truth comes spilling from his lips, every caustic barb and callous insult faithfully repeated until the weight of it all threatens to crush him. By the time he’s finished, Max feels hollowed out, wrung dry of the seething anger.

Studying your face carefully for any hint of hurt, any indication his father’s cruelty has sunk its hooks into you as it has him so many times before, Max finds only calm resolve. You shake your head sadly, fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape.

“Oh Max … I’m so sorry he treated you that way.” You blink up at him, the picture of steadfast compassion. “But you know I don’t care what he thinks, right? His opinion means nothing to me.”

Max exhales a shuddering sigh, watching the vapor cloud in the chilly air between you. “I know, but that doesn’t excuse it. You deserve so much better than to be subjected to that kind of disrespect.”

A small, fond smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe. But that’s not your burden to bear, my love.” You rise up on your tiptoes to press the softest whisper of a kiss to his lips. “All I need is you.”

And just like that, the lingering clouds of anger dissipate, clarity washing over Max like a cresting wave. You are his safe harbor, his beacon guiding him home through any storm life throws his way. With your unwavering support, maybe … just maybe he can begin to unhook himself from the toxicity that has weighed on him for far too long.

One thing is certain — Jos Verstappen has been granted more than his fair share of chances in this life. If he can’t appreciate the incredible woman standing before Max, if he can’t treat you with the respect and admiration you’ve earned a million times over ...

Then he doesn’t deserve a place in your lives. Not anymore.

So for now, Max simply pulls you close, tucking you against his chest as he places a tender kiss to the crown of your head. He’ll figure out the rest later. For tonight, having you here with him is enough.

***

The pulsing bassline thrums through Max’s veins like a secondary heartbeat as his sleek sports car glides to a stop outside the trendy Monaco hotspot. He takes a moment to simply watch you in the flickering neon lights spilling through the tinted windows — the sexy drape of your curve-hugging dress, the mussed tumble of your hair thanks to his wandering hands, the bashful smile tugging at your lips.

You’re gorgeous.

And all his.

“You about ready to actually join our friends?” He teases, voice deliciously raspy. “Or should I just take you straight back home?”

You swat at his arm playfully, cheeks flushing prettily. “Down boy. We’re already late as it is since someone couldn’t keep their hands off me earlier.”

The heated look you shoot him from beneath lidded lashes sends a fresh wave of want crashing through Max’s bloodstream. How you still make him feel like a horny, lovestruck teenager with just a simple glance ...

“Worth it.” He drops a lingering kiss to the slender column of your neck, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin. You shiver against him, his name escaping on a breathy sigh. For a heady moment, Max legitimately considers calling the whole outing off as a lost cause.

But the muffled thump of far-too-energetic techno filtering in from the crowded club breaks the spell. With a resigned sigh, Max extracts himself from your intoxicating orbit, climbing out of the car to offer you his hand.

“Shall we get this over with then?”

Laughing lightly, you accept his proffered assistance, sliding out onto the sidewalk in a swirl of sumptuous fabric. Max can’t resist hauling you in for one last, scorchingly thorough kiss, propriety be damned.

The club’s VIP section is already hopping when you arrive, music pulsing through the dimly lit space. Charles spots you first, waving with his trademark sunny grin.

“About time! We were starting to think you got lost,” he calls out teasingly.

Lando chimes in with a smirk. “More like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N are late again — what a surprise.”

Max’s jovial expression shutters instantly at the inaccurate title. “It’s Dr. Y/L/N,” he corrects, a hard edge in his voice. “Show some respect.”

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of reassurance. “We’re also not actually married yet,” you remind Lando with an easy smile, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

The banter continues to flow as you join the group’s semi-circle of plush couches, ordering a round of drinks. Lando waves a dismissive hand, undeterred. “Eh, close enough. It’s only a few months until the wedding, you’re already basically married.”

He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at Max. “Speaking of which, I love that you corrected me on her title right away, but you didn’t say anything about me implying you’d be the one taking her last name.”

Max’s jaw tightens infinitesimally. “That’s because while I have no intention of changing my name,” he states flatly, “I certainly don’t expect Y/N to give hers up either. It’s not a Verstappen who went to medical school.”

The words are steely, leaving no room for negotiation. You feel a surge of affection and pride well up within you. It still makes your heart swell to hear Max be so definitively uncompromising on the importance of your career and identity.

Unable to help yourself, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a lingering, reverent kiss to his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. Max instantly forgets your friends, the bumping music, the very room they’re standing in as he focuses solely on you — his everything, his heart made flesh.

When you finally break apart, breathless and grinning, raucous cheers and teasing whistles surround you both.

“Oh my god, get a room you two!” Charles yells over the din, brandishing his cocktail like a weapon.

“Yes,” Lando chimes in, “why don’t you lovebirds go shag in the coat check already?”

The lighthearted taunting washes over Max and you, unable to dampen the warmth and contentment radiating between you both. He presses one more soft, unhurried kiss to your smiling mouth, savoring the moment just a beat longer.

With you by his side, loved and respected and cherished exactly as you deserve, Max knows he will always have everything he could ever want or need.

And in a few short months, you’ll walk down the aisle towards him to begin your forever together. How could life possibly get any better?

***

Max takes a steadying breath as the two of you pause outside the grand double doors. The distant sounds of chatter and clinking glasses filter through the heavy wooden panels, signaling that your guests are assembled and awaiting your entrance into the ballroom.

Turning towards you, Max’s expression softens into one of pure adoration. His eyes roam hungrily over the stunning vision before him — the elegant white gown that billows becomingly around your curves, the fresh flowers woven into your perfectly coiffed hair, the soft makeup that makes you radiate ethereal beauty.

“You look … angelically gorgeous doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmurs reverentially. “I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

You let out a delighted giggle, ducking your head slightly with a bemused smile. “You’re hardly so bad yourself, Mr. Verstappen.”

His grin stretches so wide it threatens to split his face in two as he leans down to capture your lips in a lingering, blissful kiss.

All too soon, the sound of a throat clearing behind you breaks you apart. The Master of Ceremonies offers you both an indulgent smile.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then? Everyone is waiting for the guests of honor.”

Max nods eagerly, slipping his arm through yours as the ornate double doors are pulled open. The MC’s voice rings out, amplified to fill the cavernous ballroom.

“It is my honor to introduce, for the first time … the new Mr. Verstappen and Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen!”

The room erupts with raucous cheers and applause as you take your first steps forward. But Max abruptly grinds to a halt only a few paces in, his brow furrowing in consternation as he turns back to the MC in confusion.

“Actually, her title is just Dr. Y/L/N,” he begins to correct automatically. “She didn’t cha-”

“Max.” Your gentle reproval cuts him off as you place a hand on his forearm. When he meets your gaze, you’re surprised to see the corners of your eyes crinkling with unmistakable mirth. “My name is Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen now.”

The dumbfounded look on Max’s face would be comical if you didn’t find it so utterly endearing. “But you said you didn’t want to change your name. Your career and identity ...”

You shake your head fondly. “I didn’t want to give up my maiden name, no. But I’m proud to add yours to it — to take on the name of the man I love more than anything in this world.” Your voice grows thick with emotion. “We’re a partnership, Max. Forever and always.”

The words seem to resonate deep within him. In an instant, Max’s eyes are blazing with a fierce adoration so potent it steals your breath away. Without warning, his arms sweep around your waist as he dips you backwards dramatically, heedless of your squeals and the audience watching raptly.

His lips crash over yours in a searing, all-consuming kiss that seems to pour every ounce of his devotion into the contact. You melt helplessly against him as raucous catcalls and whistles erupt from the crowd.

When you finally break apart, flushed and grinning giddily, Max offers you a lopsided grin. “For the record, I fully intend to spend our entire honeymoon admiring Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen in all her glory.”

The way your eyes dance with love and happiness is brighter than any ballroom chandelier. “I’m counting on it, Mr. Verstappen.”

Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen. It has a wonderful ring to it, Max muses contentedly. His eternal teammate in life and love.

Nothing could possibly make this day more perfect.

[scarlet-bitch]

You'd Have to Stop the World...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matt’s reasoning included:

• “He never makes you pay for weed.” 

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

• “He flirts with you.”

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

• "He call's you - Baby." 

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

• “The way he fucking looks at you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie," you pressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cut the shit, Munson.”

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

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

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

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

"What about?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have you fantasized about?”

Eddie hesitated, “We don’t have to -”

“Tell me,” you demanded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," you replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “Crystal."

"So, friends with benefits?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mind if I join ya instead?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know, "Baby, No Attachment!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were so quick to dismiss it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie’s expression softened as he noticed your your eyes glistening. He watched helplessly as you continued to pack, his frustration morphing into anguish as tears streamed down your face.

"Wait,” he pleaded. "Let's talk, we can take a step back."

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

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

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

His stomach twisted at that.

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

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

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

The silence grew heavy between you as Eddie struggled to find a response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie’s face was wet with his own tears now, his hands trembling as he held his face, listening to you explain.  

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

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

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

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

Your heart broke at his words but you knew this was the choice you had to make, even if it wasn't what you wanted.

"I have to go," you said as you turned and walked out of the trailer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You deserved the best, and Eddie was convinced he wasn't that - he was stil a pot dealer, bussing tables to make ends meet and for some free food, just dreaming of a future with his band. How could he be the right person for you when he didn't have much to offer.

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

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

“Maybe try reaching out to her though," he suggested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You threw yourself into work, hoping that staying busy would numb the pain. But this came at a price - you isolated yourself from your friends, avoided their calls, and shut yourself off from the world that might remind you of Eddie.

When Robin buzzed your intercom one evening, her arrival was a welcome disruption to your self-imposed exile. She stood at your door with pizza and ice cream in hand, a silent understanding in her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay," she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," you said softly.

His eyes roamed over your figure as he took in the way your dress fit, and a low, almost involuntary groan escaped him. "Wow, that dress, you... you look incredible."

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

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

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Is that good or...?"

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

Eddie's eyes softened, and he responded with a chuckle. "It's weird for me, still. I haven't had a buzz cut since middle school. But I just needed... a change."

His words hit you harder than expected, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as shook your head in acknowledgement.

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

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

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

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

Eddie looked at you, his gaze lingering as if he were on the verge of saying something more, but he simply nodded. "Me too," he said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was convinced I wasn’t enough for you,” he continued. “But you wanted me all the same. I’m so sorry that I didn't call you weeks ago. I’m sorry for being so scared that I'm not what you deserve, that I let you walk out of my life because every day without you has been fucking hell.” His breaths came in jagged, broken waves. “I thought I could move on, try to forget it, but the goddamn world would have to stop before I could ever stop feeling this for you... It’s always been you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

[drenched-in-sunlight]

I think to make sense of how Marika feels about her Omen twins, you need to follow a string of:

1/ how bad is Marika’s PTSD?

2/ how bad are people in the Lands Between in general feel about the Hornsent? The Hornsent is very much leading a whole empire that is hunting down anyone they deem inferior, even their own brethren. the fanbase tend to forget that people of Land of Shadow and Lands Between have every reason to already feel grievance towards the Hornsent royalty, even without Marika’s influence.

They were the Golden Order before Golder Order was even a thing (and they want that, btw, the Greatsword of Damnation skill description very much pointed out that the Hornsent royalty wanted to build their own Golden Order under the banner of the Spiraltree, they are just pissed as hell Marika wrenched that divinity from them and made it under the Erdtree instead).

And Marika, even as a God, was still just one person, with an ailing son at the beginning. If she wanted to consolidate power, she had to unite other people under a common cause. And I do think she promised them a world abundance of healing blessing and no death, and no one will suffer under the Hornsent anymore (sounds awfully familiar, isn't it. except that Marika was always gunning for revenge as well). Omens being shunned that badly can’t be just because of Golden Order propaganda, it’s also because people in fact did suffer under the Hornsent and still remember it too.

3/ Messmer, who is fanatical to the point of even though he admits the Tarnished has Marika’s sanction, he will still hunt them down because he considers them lightless / unworthy, who was very much around when the Omen twins were born, why did he do nothing about it?

I’m pretty sure he has no qualm about killing babies, he doesn’t gaf about his siblings chasing something doomed to fail, he very much goes extra miles to torture any Hornsent on his way. So who protected the twins from him? Who hid them from him?

1 + 2 + 3 = you have a Marika who still very much suffered PTSD from what her people went through, she thought she had escaped, she thought she had managed to build a world where everyone was free from Hornsent’s cruelty and always bathed in gentle ray of healing - something the minor erdtree in her village could never do, because there was no one there to heal. But now she gave birth to … Omens?

It’s a sign that whatever the Hornsent once did to her, it’s left a taint forever inside her (yes i very much believed she was under the Hornsent capture before she managed to run away, either via the Mimic Veil or other means). That she never really escaped that cold dark gaol. And for all of his belief in her sanctity, I think Messmer knew that too, that it’s a wound he could never heal, and now all he could do was to make sure she wouldn’t be tainted further.

And after distress, came fear. Fear for the Omen twins, even though she should hate them, she still loved them, she couldn’t help it. She carried them for months and had loved them all that time. That wouldn’t stop even when they triggered all of her trauma at once.

I think it should be noted that in the DLC there is an item that is the same as Omen Bairn item in the base game, which points out that Omen (or in their case, Hornsent) babies with overgrown horns meet a frightfully early demise. Morgott and Mogh both have overgrown horns. But they are alive! They are ! Very much alive! And grow into adulthood!

Who healed them? Who kept them alive? Who else but the woman who used to make several blessing flasks for her cursed firstborn, whose innate power is healing, right?

Before the Omen twins, Omen babies had their horns excised, causing them to perish, but once there are ones born into royal linage, exile is on the table? and again, they have overgrown horns, and still live to adulthood. if they were left to rot in prison, they would have already died.

Marika built a world with a promise that the cruel shadow the Hornsent cast would never befall there, but now… she gave birth for two of them. Her position as a God Queen was of no use if her people clamored for the twins’ death, her duty to them will always outweigh her personal feelings. But she sure as hell would not let her sons die, either.

They weren't exiled to faraway land, they were kept under the capital, presumably so Marika could visit and heal them if their horns caused them pain, the shackles were made so they wouldn't wander up above and ran into civilians that pretty much would call on the Omenkillers to go after them. it was a cruel existence, yes, but it's all she could do for them. she tried her best out of love.

That is why Godfrey never held it against her, even when it's apparent he loves Morgott (as he cradles his son's body gently in the boss cutscene). Godfrey knew she had done everything she could.

All of that above answers this 4th question: why Morgott was accepted as Lord of Leyndell, even went so far as having command over a whole army of the Night's Cavalry?

In the time of unrest, Omens were welcomed in the army, but they were distrusted, even their weapons have an enchantment on it so it could be taken back if they tried something funny.

But Morgott was trusted to command a whole army and held the walls of Leyndell for that long?

The only way I could rationalize that is after she was forced to separate from Messmer, Marika brought both Morgott and Mohg back to live with other demigods. A big part of the Erdtree's power force was in Messmer's hand, now that he was not there anymore, I imagine people would become more accepting of letting Omens join their rank. And because Messmer was not there, the twins would actually not have to deal with him. In a twisted way, when Marika lost her beloved firstborn, she gained the other two back.

Even though they weren't officially recognized as her child, but more as warriors serving in Leyndell army, Morgott proved himself with his tactical mind and combat prowess (while Mogh used the resources brought by his new position to secretly started funding his blood cult, and this is how I think he met Miquella and all the stuffs in that part of the lore happened. Like you can't convince me he built that whole palace and had all that fancy clothes without money or resources taken from somewhere else).

Then Godwyn died, and Morgott witnessed everything thereafter. and the rest of the story, we knew how it played out.

So yeah, that's my take on the timeline and story of the Omen twins. I know it doesn't have a strong official description backup as my theory on Messmer, but I feel like this makes sense with all of my other interpretation, and if you agree with those, they are what actually back up this one.

If I draw Morgott in the future, it'll also be based on this premise.

[hxney-lemcn]

General Romantic Headcanons — Anya, Daisuke x gn! reader

tw: none.

wc: 1k (~500 per character)

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Anya

❥Anya is really soft when it comes to the people she cares about. One of the reasons why she wanted to become a nurse was to help others, so it’s no surprise that she’s very caring, always looking out for you. It’s hard to keep friends in her line of work, so she cherishes you extra, finding solace in your company.

❥She feels a bit silly having a crush when she’s this old. Sure, she hasn’t reached middle aged yet, but having a crush over the age of twenty makes her feel a bit foolish. Yet you always seem to make her fall for you even more. The inside jokes, the late night discussions, your constant encouragement and strong willed belief in her makes her heart flutter. You had been by her side after so many of her lows, the constant rejections from med school and her long trips that separated you for years. She’s not sure what she did to deserve you.

❥When Anya has a crush on you she’ll be a bit more bashful yet confident at the same time. It’s a confusing mix. Some moments have her blushing and shying away, while others she’s teasing and complimenting you. If you tell her how pretty you find her or brush her hair behind her ear she’s done for. It’s like her heart won’t stop beating out of her chest and her face is bright red. Anya will hide her face, trying to stay calm. If she finds you shying away for one thing or another? It’s over, she’s like a cat who spotted its prey. She won’t let it go and continue to tease you until you combust. She loves seeing you in such a state, and it may seem out of character, but with you she feels comfortable enough.

❥Honestly, it's a toss of the coin who confesses first. After long enough, she’ll end up confessing during one of your nightly hangouts, going from how much she cares about you to how she wishes you were together. If you’re the one confessing, do it in a more private setting. She’s not the biggest romantic, but the quiet setting would feel more intimate to her, like it's just the two of you in the big, big world. Anya would be so happy that you both finally crossed that boundary, wishing it could’ve been sooner. 

❥When you start dating things won’t change much. Things just get a bit more comforting and homey. Neither of you hesitate with your innocent affection anymore, threading your fingers together without uncertainty or resting your head on the other’s shoulder without care. If anything you both hang out even more, going on small dates to cafes or reading books at home. What does change is how it's even harder to let her go when work calls. How you dread the upcoming year without her smile or laughter, or how frustrated she gets when she loses to you. 

❥But you don’t worry too much. Anya always comes back, and you’ll continue to be by her side when she inevitably applies to another med school. Listen to her rant about what she experienced, her minor grievances with her coworkers. It’ll be all the sweeter to have her back in your arms, watching the stars and pondering where your futures will lead.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Daisuke

❥Like Anya, Daisuke is soft when it comes to those he loves. He’s just a bit more outgoing about it. The type to show someone a picture of you and be like ‘yeah, that’s my best buddy’. Yes, he is internally dying when he has to call you his friend. 

❥Hands down he’s so obvious with how he’s crushing. Daisuke basically becomes your personal butler with how fast he’s willing to stop what he’s doing for you. You’re hungry? Don’t worry, he’ll get you some food. You’re cold? Hold on, he’s got a really fluffy blanket you’ll love. He’ll take any excuse he can get to prove his worth to you (not that you need him too). He gets extra giddy when you both hang out. It’s just so chill, and he gets to spend more time with you, maybe buy you something that’ll remind you of him. 

Yeah…he’s down bad.

❥Finding reasons to love you? It comes naturally to him. It’s like every day he finds another thing that makes him want to squeeze you. Confessing? Hahaha…uhhh he’s having trouble on that front. Daisuke cherishes what you have so much, he finds it terrifying to shift things. He’s so blindsighted by his own feelings, he’s afraid he’s projecting the hints he thinks you’re giving him. So he keeps his feelings to himself, refraining from touching you for too long or saying something that may give him away…yeah he’s not as good at that as he thinks.

❥You’ll have to confess. Daisuke will just continue to beat around the bush, blushing and pretending like he wasn’t head over heels for you. Confess anywhere, Daisuke doesn’t mind. He’ll be too taken aback at the confession to care if people were staring or not. The moment you tell him you like him he’s on cloud nine. 

He nearly forgets to confess back…

❥Once it’s official (and boundaries are placed), Daisuke will be all over you. It’s like he’ll die if he isn’t touching you in one way or another. Loves love loves holding hands with you, extra points if you fidget with his fingers or rings. He not only loves feeling you by his side, but being useful (whether that be by being your guide in crowded spaces or a fidget toy for you to calm your racing mind) is his top need. It’s just so reassuring to know that you love him, need him, and rely on him. 

❥Loves any and all kinds of dates. From exciting ones like theme parks and haunted houses, to the lowkey ones like sleepovers and going to the park. Can barely take his eyes off you if you dress up (this could be just the smallest touch up like putting on perfume/cologne if you normally don’t or doing your hair differently). Can barely take his eyes off you if you don’t dress up tbh…

❥Daisuke finds himself finally looking forward to what his future holds.

[feelingbat-ty]

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.