#i have a lot of feelings about my old writings and trying to not repeat mistakes sksksks

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I am a new reader of your blog, and that is something I want to know (but it's totally okay if you want to ignore this ask!) why you stopped liking [with you]? Is there something in particular that bothered you about this fic?

That... is a question with a loaded answer.

The quick answer is:

I put way too much pressure on myself with [with you] that caused terrible burnout and I couldn't do any creative writing for a long time after; a small portion of my readers were pretty hostile about slow updates; there were criticisms about the story that I had a hard time with; and there are a lot of story beats and writing decisions I made with it that I'm very critical of. All of those things combined, I now have a lot of negative feelings associated with [with you].

The not-so-quick answer involves a lot of self-criticism about my prose, poor choices, the criticisms by my readers, and some behind the scenes stuff. I'll put all that under a "keep reading" for anyone interested in more detail.

When I started [with you], it wasn't meant to be a 50k+ story, it was just going to be a simpler story told in a couple parts... that I then kept expanding. I'm pretty sure every note I have on the original version posted on here starts with, "hey y'all, this story is this many parts now whoops haha"

I had very little planned out, I was just discovery writing my way through everything. I wrote a chapter, read through it a couple times, said, "yeah that's good enough," then posted. Y'know, like what a lot of people who write fics do. "no beta, we die like Ben falling down the bell tower" and all that.

I had ideas of where I wanted to go, but I didn't start an outline until I was well into the story. It was bloated. I felt like I needed to add every single idea I had, and needed to expand on every character, even if it didn't do anything to advance or enhance the story... and that became overwhelming for me to keep track of since I wanted it to all tie together in the end and please my readers.

When I read through it now, there is so much that can be cut that no one would miss. It would flow better and be easier to read.

My prose [the actual writing style] is all over the place and reads like a first draft, especially in earlier chapters. Spelling errors, run-on sentences, whole paragraphs that I should've cut. While I feel better about my dialogue, there are some conversations that read as awkward.

Honestly, the best part of the entire fic is Clementine and Louis' story, which... yeah. I'm pretty happy with the way I portrayed their dynamic, dialogue, and romance. I just wish I hadn't bogged it all down with everything else, like... that's all it needed to be, it just needed to be about clouis.

Oh, and I still like the dream sequence. That's probably one of the better chapters, if not the best chapter.

Now, when I say I made bad choices with this story, one of those choices I'm referring to is my "big rewrite." This was incredibly stupid. Past CJ thought it was a good idea but she's a dumb ass. You can't listen to anything she says.

Basically, I got the brilliant idea that I would take [with you] down and rewrite the whole thing before I wrote the final chapters. I wasn't satisfied with how it was written. I felt I could do so much better. I was going to trim unnecessary fat, expand on important details, make some heavy changes, improve everything, and then repost it with the ending.... so I deleted it off AO3 and got to work.

Terrible idea. Don't ask me why. What I should've done was discontinued that version, made a note that it was old, and then published the new version separately. But I didn't. And a lot of people were pissed at me. Shocking.

I should've just finished it. I should've finished it, posted it, and then went from there. But I didn't. Ever since then I've gotten a lot of readers who would go on anon and send me messages about [with you] that are passive aggressive or guilt trippy. That soured my feelings about the story and myself as a writer tremendously.

Then there's Violet.

I wrote the first few chapters before Ep4 of TFS was released, meaning I wrote Violet before we found out that she's blinded in the explosion in her kidnapped route. I took the "Violet despises you" route, and a big plot point of the story is Violet dealing with all these conflicting feelings about Clementine, hating her but also not, distancing herself from the group, the strain it put on her and Louis' friendship, etc.

I don't like how I portrayed Violet for a number of reasons. I know what I was trying to do, and I knew I couldn't [or wouldn't] scrap everything I already wrote about her and rewrite in a blind Violet on friendly terms with Clementine... because sure, I wanted to do this grand rewrite that sounded easy enough on paper, but in practice that was so much work that intimidated me.

Because behind the scenes fun- for the rewrite, I wanted to do that. That was a major change that would've cut so much from the story I wasn't happy with, and would've been a more positive portrayal of the character. But then I saw just how much would be cut and how much I'd have to write and it scared me off from the idea... so I tried to work with what I had and I still hate it.

Violet's very antagonistic in the story. She attacked Clementine after the boat explosion. Everyone thinks she'll attack her again. Mitch calls her a traitorous bitch and doesn't trust her to not stab Clementine in a conversation. There's even a point where it's mentioned that in the past she slapped Louis during a conversation. She just has a pissy attitude throughout the story but then berates herself for it and I just... I was going for a slow burn recovery that explores her trauma and ends with her reconciling with Clementine... but it doesn't come off that way? Some parts I think I executed better than others but most of it I look back at and say, "...No, past CJ, that doesn't read like you think it does...."

But that wasn't my only criticism I got about the way I wrote Violet, and this one is... a little complicated? And something most probably wouldn't take issue with or even notice unless you're a major Violet stan... but I pretty much gave Mitch [a character I loved at the time] a lot of Violet's canon character points and explored them more positively, then turned around and made Violet more antagonistic, which......yeeeeeah.

The only defense I have for this is it wasn't intentional. It really wasn't, but I understand and think it's a valid complaint. Like... I used to get these anons who would tell me this and I'd quietly delete them because, "...nope, not touching that. If I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist."

Lemme explain: In my fics, Mitch is gay. He had feelings for his best friend and roommate, Justin, before he died to walkers, and Mitch hasn't trusted "gross feelings" ever since... until James shows up and Mitch has to face the fact that he has romantic feelings for him while not being completely over Justin...

...y'know, totally different from Violet who is gay, had feelings for Minerva before she "died," and hasn't trusted mushy feelings ever since... until Clementine shows up and Violet has to face the fact that she has romantic feelings for her while not being completely over Minerva....

It's surface level stuff since they are written differently, and it's not like you're not allowed to have more than one character with character beats like that, but it's enough of a similarity that I get why it would rub Violet lovers the wrong way. Especially since nothing about that is canon with Mitch's character, y'know? It's the character I gave him.

I don't think it was coming from the Violet crowd [the aggressively obnoxious fans no one likes], I think it came from people who were genuinely bummed or put off by my more antagonistic portrayal of her, only to see similar traits portrayed positively with Mitch.

And that bothers me. I do like the way I wrote Mitch, but I hate the way I wrote Violet. It's made me step back and analyze why I wrote them the way I did, y'know?

But the BIGGEST criticism from readers I've gotten?

[with you] is unfinished.... valid, but there isn't anything I can add that. Sorry y'all, it's discontinued, I'm never going to finish it.

The best I can give you is what I planned: a big wedding scene where Clementine and Louis exchanged vows and kissed. Violet showed up and made amends with Clementine. Clementine talked Mitch into dancing with her even though he hates dancing. Aasim tried to ask Ruby to dance, panicked, and asked Mitch instead who was like "...Fuck no, RUBY COME DANCE WITH AASIM!" Louis and Clementine left early to head back to their room and it probably would've ended with some sappy line about being together to the end.

So... there ya go? It's not a final chapter but that's the gist of what would've happened.

But moving on, I was also going through a lot of things in my personal life that I won't get into. I was working on other writing projects that I had more interest in, so [with you] was put on the backburner. Then, over time I grew more sour about it the more pressure and guilt I put on myself, added with the pressure and guilt put on by my readers.

I do want to clarify that it's not like ALL of my readers were like this. Most of them were sweet, supportive followers who only had nice things to say. But you know how it is... you could get ten comments/asks, nine of them positive and one negative, and it's the negative one that's going to stick to you.

So, to my lovely readers, I am sorry that I let you down by not finishing it. To the rude readers, I'm less sorry because y'all were dicks.

Y'know... I can look at all of my other works and either be like "Yeah, I'm really proud of that story," or "Eh, it was one of my earlier works, so I can't be too hard on it."

But [with you] puts me in a crisis of "oh god I'm a fraud, I was never a good writer, what am I doing??? why?? why are you like this??"

and I have to snap myself out of it. That's why I'm so like this about it now.

There are other little things I could go into, but this answer is long enough. I figure if anyone has any further questions or criticisms, they'll send 'em in and I can answer them that way.

I've moved on from all my twdg writing, I'm writing dragon age stuff now, and it's finally working for me so it's not like [with you] has me all hung up still. Plus, I think it's good to go back and learn from mistakes made in old works, y'know?

#asks #[with you] #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg mitch #twdg ruby #twdg aasim #twdg james #i have a lot of feelings about my old writings and trying to not repeat mistakes sksksks #because hhhnnnggggg... i made mistakes #but it's fine #it's fine i am different now and current cj has improved.... she said through gritted teeth #no but really i'm doing so much more writing these days and it's actually *fun* again... writing hasn't been fun for a long time #and writing da fic is like... a totally different experience? because it's a very different world/fandom than twdg... obviously sksks #plus i'm just a lurker in the shadows of the fandom and i haven't posted any writing yet so there are zero eyes on me #there was a point where i felt like stagnant with twdg? like i wanted to branch out and write different kinds of fics but was too worried #about my readers and followers judging me for it or that no one would want to read it because it wasn't tfs stuff #like.... ugh do i dare share this? ....it's in the tags and no one reads those so i'm sure this is a safe place for confession... sksks #i entertained the idea of writing a long fic about david and lilly meeting and joining the delta together #that would've dealt with much heavier mature themes than any of my tfs stuff did #...don't look at me like that okay I KNOW sksksk livid was a huge meme on this blog and behind the scenes i was like #'...wait what if though??' and never did it because i *know* how it would've been received and frankly i didn't wanna deal with that #plus i had so much other shit to write and [with you] constantly on the back burner screaming at me sooooo.... yeah #but anyway... i'll stop venting in the tags and thank anon for the ask and for reading my stuff #despite my hang ups with it i do truly appreciate you for reading my work and hope my answer makes sense

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X AFAB!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can���t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always like you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

#across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel 2099 #miguel smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #atsv smut #miguel atsv #atsv #atsv fanfiction #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x afab!reader #spiderman across the verse

[orcelito]

Maybe part of what gives me the assurance of writing fic for a thing is knowing almost everything there is to know about the thing. So even me being 👀 at shadowgast, I don't think I could write fic for it bc the critical role universe is so fucking big & I will literally die if I ever get any detail wrong

And so instead I write for a video game I've known for 5 and a half years, which I've played 3.5 times (and largely watched playthroughs for Another time!) which belongs to a game series that I've played every installment of (minus eternal punishment)(& no I didnt actually finish innocent sin Nor persona 1, but shh) so that I can have the assurance that YES I know any lore that could possibly be relevant to this thing, and EVEN THEN I will accidentally have the characters go to school on 2 days when they were not supposed to go to school & I will lie down and weep bc inconsistencies r the bane of my soul and I will now perish

#speculation nation #... #discacc shit #aka 'how are You coping with a very minor inconsistency in your own writing?' #listen im the type who has to double check Everything when writing both with research and word choice #literally how am i supposed to write for smth i dont know better than my own soul???? i cant. #ft me contemplating early 2020 whether i wanted to write sylvix fire emblem fanfic bc i was on a big kick for it then #but ultimately not bc i dont know Everything There Is To Know About Fire Emblem. so lol. #even with p5 when i was going thru p5r i was more and more certain i wanted to write smth for p5. but i was waiting for finishing the game. #and EVEN THEN it started as wanting to write shukita. bc i was big into shukita back in the day. NOT akeshu. #then royal's akechi grabbed me by the throat and never let go. #me planning my akeshu magic prince au as i finished the game. then planning it as i consumed way too much akeshu fic. #then me balking at it and deciding to write a soulmate au instead bc it's a much simpler concept ultimately (even if it's still a Beast) #someday i will return to it. that day is not now. #but yes wizards in love has my soul weeping with joy but i dont think i can write anything for it. not without lots and lots of study #i ALSO need to have read a wide variety of fic so i know what's there so im not accidentally repeating smth too overtly. bc lol #i try to be careful not to steal ideas from ppl. bc it feels very shitty when that happens to u #:) #not being salty about smth literally years old by this point. no sir. of course not. :) #i think. it is time for me to go to bed maybe. #....or i could look at more wizards in love. hmmm. hard choice.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

An incomplete guide to how to talk to young children (3-5 years old):

- Do not assume they understand your instructions the first time. They will ask you the same question three times. Answer it the same way, patiently. They will get it eventually.

- Children will ask strings of “why” questions. They’re not trying to be annoying; they don’t have a lot of the context older people have. Answer until you can’t, then admit you don’t know and ask them a question back. They’ll get distracted for the moment, and trust that you take their questions seriously.

- If you need a kid to do something, give a reason, but don’t give up at “I don’t want to”. If they don’t listen, it’s okay to say “I explained why, and I still need you to do it.” Be calm, and firm. Usually, kids will listen the second or third time.

- If a kid doesn’t listen to an instruction repeatedly, there’s probably something in the way. Ask them why they’re not *without accusing them*, and they’ll tell you what’s going on most of the time. Common reasons: I’m scared, I don’t know how, I miss my parent/sibling, I’m tired, I’m angry/frustrated/sad, I need help. Address the roadblock and help find a compromise that works for the both of you.

- Threats are only as good as you can enforce them. If you threaten them with a countdown, you need a consequence to back it up that is appropriate to the request. For example: “I need you to stay in your chair. I’m going to count to five. If I get to five, and you’re not sitting in your seat with your feet on the floor, I am writing down that you were not listening during snack time on your behavior report.” Keep in mind that these threats only work if the consequence is at the right level; too harsh, and they’ll get overwhelmed and shut down, but too light, and they won’t see it as a consequence. A kid who doesn’t care what their behavior report says won’t worry about a bad report as a consequence.

- Never scream at a child. Never hit them. Never continuously escalate consequences until they do what you say. These behaviors cause a child to panic, and their fear response will prevent them from doing what you want them to, as well as make them more distrusting of you in the future. It’s not just cruel, it is actively counterintuitive to correcting their behavior.

- Make a point to notice and compliment/reward good behavior, especially with kids you are biased to view as “rude” or “badly behaved”. Kids take the views of adults seriously, and if they feel as though they can’t redeem themselves in your eyes, they won’t waste energy trying. Complimenting good behavior when you see it will encourage them to repeat good behaviors to earn your praise. In addition, if there’s other children nearby, they will also mimic the complimented behavior to earn the same praise. Give it.

- Kids want to feel heard. If they want to show or tell you “something cool”, and you have a few moments, watch/listen and compliment them *regardless of if you get it or not*. If you don’t have time, say “That sounds really cool! Can you tell me after we do [insert thing]?” This tells them that you care while still making sure they do what they need to.

- Kids can be downright frustrating sometimes, especially when they need to do something and they just *won’t*. Recognize when you’re getting angry, and learn to stop talking before you direct that anger at them. Take some deep breaths, remind yourself that this too shall pass, and try a different approach.

- Always understand why you’re asking a child to do something. Not only does this help you tell them why they need to, it helps you find replacement behaviors if they can’t/won’t do it. For example: “I need you to lay down and try to sleep, because your friends are sleeping and what you’re doing right now is waking them up. If you can’t sleep after trying for a while, we can work together to find you a quiet activity that you can do at your cot.”

- Don’t expect from a child what you wouldn’t expect from yourself. Could you stand laying still and staring at the ceiling for an hour when you’re not tired? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Could you stand staying out in the cold for an hour without a jacket? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Could you stand someone yelling at you without feeling angry? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Even if you think you could do it, consider if you could do it with the same limitations this child has. Could you do it without the emotional regulation and impulse control you’ve developed as an adult? Could you do it without the inference skills you’ve learned after years of social interactions? Could you do it when you felt angry, tired, overwhelmed, hungry, thirsty, desperately needing to pee with no bathroom nearby? If not, don’t ask a child to do it.

- Don’t react to potty words, insults, or offensive language. Don’t laugh, and don’t act upset. Use the same tone you would if someone said something innocuous, and correct them in that tone. “We don’t say that; that’s a hurtful thing to say to someone.” Or “That’s not funny. Let’s talk about something else.”

- Kids don’t (and should not) have a sense of sexual innuendo or puberty. A four year old doesn’t understand that reaching up to hug you and touching your breasts in the process is gross. A five year old doesn’t understand that “why aren’t you a mommy?” or “why does your face have red dots on it” are weird questions to ask random people. Enforce boundaries without delving into details. “Don’t touch me there; that makes me uncomfortable” and “That’s just how it works sometimes” can be used to great effect. Importantly, don’t act angry or use a tone that indicates they did something wrong; this will seem to them like you’re arbitrarily angry.

- Kids at this age don’t have a strong sense of cognitive empathy or predicting the future. The idea that actions have consequences beyond the immediate result is a very, very new concept to them. Be prepared to explain the obvious of “why can’t I bite her when she makes me mad?”, “why can’t I steal his toy when he stole mine?”, and “why do I have to do what you tell me when I don’t want to?”

- Give explicit instructions. “Stop that” isn’t likely to be understood by a four year old. “Stop throwing the toys; please put them in the bucket gently” is far easier for a kid to follow.

[hs-is-loml]

Defending. (x.t)

PART ONE OF TWO

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: wednesday tells you about her suspicions about xavier but you come to his defense and are determined to find proof to prove her wrong

Warnings: mentions of making a small cut, very little like a drop of blood, hydes? (those ugly mfs) NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: this is going to be in two parts, but part two will be posted late 12/1 or early 12/2 depending on when i finish writing it! it's basically a smut fic for part two which is why i decided to split it up in case people are not comfortable with it!

masterlist - part two

“Now, this is too far,” you said to Wednesday as she told you about her suspicions about Xavier being the monster.

“All the evidence points to him.”

 “Wednesday, it’s not him.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re in a relationship with him,” the girl argued back with her.

“No shit, Wednesday. I know him enough to know he’s not. You think I wouldn’t notice by now if he were going around town killing people?”

“You’re letting this blind your judgment,” Wednesday stated. 

“NEWS FLASH WEDNESDAY HE’S NOT THE HYDE! WOULD IT KILL YOU THINK FOR ANYONE BUT YOURSELF?!” you yelled at the girl who just raised her eyebrows back at you.

“What are you going to do when you find out he is?”

“Nothing,” you answered softly you could feel a headache coming from yelling, “There’s nothing to find out.” You walked back inside from the balcony and exited the room before you felt like destroying anything, and Enid would get mad at the mess later.

You wandered around the school before you came upon the statute of Edgar Allen Poe. You sat down near the statute wanting to clear your mind for a second before you looked up and realized the mark beneath the book he was holding. You tried to recall what your mom would always tell you as a kid about the Nightshade Society. 

“He was notorious for his riddles. For it was not one alone, but each line was individual. One to remember is, ‘The answer will give a sharp cracking sound,’ that will help you once you find it,” was something she always mentioned when she talked about Nevermore. 

“A sharp cracking sound,” you repeated as you stood from your spot and it clicked, or more so snapped into place. You raised your right arm and snapped two times. “Thank you, Nightshade Society.”

You walked down the staircase into the dimly lit library. The portraits that hung on the wall of old members caught your eye as you looked about the room. At the end of the portraits you find your parents, they tell you to make a name for yourself, but how could you live up to them? 

“You put that bag over my head, I will choke you with that very rope in your hands,” you warned the people who stood behind you as you looked for your mom’s diary knowing that would be the only thing you could find answers in. “You should know to not mess with a witch with heightened senses.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n, we were just trying to have fun,” Kent joked causing the other to mutter in agreement. 

“I WASN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING I SWEAR,” Xavier yelped once he notice it was you and threw the bag in his hands to Ajax.

“Someone’s in the dog house tonight…” Yoko teased. Kent and a couple of the others gave a couple howls joining in the joke.

“You know Xavier you could’ve told me about this,” you said as you finally found your mother’s diary. 

“Babe, if I could, I would’ve-”

“He’s sworn to secrecy,” Bianca pointed out as she gave you a dirty look when you walked to a desk with the diary in your arms.

You pulled it out to see she sealed it with magic though not any kind of magic, blood magic. “My family was a part of the Nightshades long before you, although I thought it to be disbanded.”

“Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died,” Xavier explained which answered your thoughts as he walked up to you noticing that you were looking for something. 

“But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves,” Yoko added on. 

“What are you looking for anyways?” Xavier questioned you.

“If you’re trying to open your mom’s diary, you can’t,” Bianca told you cockingly. 

“Maybe you can’t,” you retorted just when you noticed a letter opener sitting at the corner of the table. 

You reached over and grabbed it seeing that it had a sharp edge. You noticed from your peripheral vision that the group was crowding around you to see what you were doing. Xavier was right next to you with his attention on the knife you held in your hand. You lifted your right hand over the book and took the knife to your palm just before it touched your skin you heard shouts from around the room.

“Y/N!”

“Woah, girl, no need to prove a point.”

“No need for bloodshed-”

“What are you doing?!”

“No, no, no, no, absolutely not,” you heard Xavier say as he tried to grab for the knife, but it was too late. “Oh my god, only you. Literally, you’re the only one who would do this.”

You sliced the inside of your palm and allowed for the knife to drop down onto the table as you felt the sting in your palm. You closed your fist and put it directly above the lock on the book. You felt the blood sweep down near the bottom of your fist before it dropped down into the lock. 

“Blood magic?” Yoko asked in amazement when she saw the lock unlatch and you opened to the front page that held your mom’s portrait along with her signature. 

“Only the very best for mother dearest,” you remark sarcastically.

“That explains a lot!” Kent said from behind as Xavier looked around for a first aid kit. “Bianca was trying to open that months ago and nothing would work!” right as the words left his mouth, Bianca smacked him in the back of the head causing him to groan in pain, “Well, ow.”

When Xavier finally found a first aid kit that looked like it could be decades old, he went back to your side and held out his palm to you. Putting your sliced palm in his hand without him even having to ask you. 

“I couldn’t find any actual alcohol to disinfect it, so vodka will have to do,” he unscrewed the bottle with one hand and looked back into your eyes before you gave him a slight nod telling him it was okay for him to do it. “This might sting.”

“Oh shit, I can’t watch,” Ajax gagged as the vodka was poured onto your palm and the blood washed away with it. 

“Makes the both of us,” another member said.

“Stop being babies, people would think you’re the one with the cut palm,” you told them off as taking in the pain with no reaction. “At least I have a hot doctor patching me up,” you smirked.

“Only for you,” Xavier muttered as he focused on wrapping the bandage around your hand. At this point, almost all the members already left not wanting to see what you and Xavier get up to.

“Thanks, babe,” giving him a kiss on the cheek before returning your attention back to your mother’s diary. 

“What was so important that you have to look into your mom’s diary?” he asked you. “You’re looking for answers, but for what?”

“Any information about hydes.”

“That’s the monster, Wednesday was talking about right?”

“The same one she believes you to be, yes.” you look up from the diary to see his confused expression.

“Wait, me?” he wondered aloud.

“I told her it wasn’t you though, but that girl is the most stubborn person I have ever met,” you informed him taking one of his hands in your non-injured one to give it a tight squeeze in reassurance. “You have to be careful, I know you’re not the Hyde, but she is going to do everything she can to prove her point.”

“I love you.” he blurted out to you. “You could’ve easily believed her, but you didn’t.”

“I know you, Xavier. There’s no damn way in hell, I’m going to let you be falsely accused for something you so obviously are not,” you stated. “And, I love you, that’s why I’m trying to see if my mother knew anything about Hydes during her time here,” you smiled at him.

You turned to put the diary back onto the desk as you hurriedly flipped through the pages scanning for any kind of information on the damn monster. You were about to turn to another page just before you noticed a name you’ve heard of before. Francois Sylvanne. Xavier moved to stand behind you leaning over your shoulder to read the diary as well. He placed his hands on your hips to steady himself causing you to lean back into him.

“Seems like Wednesday’s little boy toy just got way more interesting,” you pointed to the name on the page for Xavier to read. 

“Who is she?”

“His mother. The same one he goes to therapy for, I heard she died a while back, and apparently the sheriff isn’t only bad at his job but bad at parenting too,” you explained as you read more of your mom’s writing.

There’s something about this girl. She keeps to herself. Quiet. Distance. Truly an Outcast. I have a feeling something is going on with her or at least something will. I’m going to keep a close eye on her, but she is graduating this year.

“Weird, your mom always has good intuition, I wonder if she’s right about this one too,” Xavier said after he read your mother’s entry. 

You flipped through more pages of the book and found nothing. You looked at every line on the pages, and your mother never mentioned her once again. It wasn’t until you got to the last page of the diary to see a quite messier version of your mother’s writing.

THAT GIRL IS A HYDE. FRANCOIS IS A HYDE. HIDDEN AWAY WITH A NORMIE IN THE TOWN. 

“No,” you gaped as you turned to see nothing more and reached the end of the book.

“Do you think Tyler’s the Hyde?” he whispered into your ear.

“It’s the only way. It makes sense too,” you claimed, “But the question is why?” 

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x you #xavier x reader #netflix #percy hynes white #xavier thorpe angst #bianca barclay #fanfic #witch

[thefudge]

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

#writing #smut tips #writing advice #smut #my thoughts #replies

[sashi-ya]

東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑬ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ toji fushiguro x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. a miserable Toji founds the living image of his death wife in you, a sex worker at Kabukicho.

requested by: Anonymous ➡ omg i've been waiting for you to write for jjk!!! please Sashi, can you write an nsfw toji x f! reader with the prompt The red lights of Kabukichō. tw: MNDI. dark! content. reader is a sex worker from the kabukicho red district. toji has no respect for you. oral, rough, spanking, slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie implied, you look like Megumi's mom. first time I write for Toji pls be soft on me. wc: 2k masterlist

A lucky round, for the very first time at Pachinko. Fushiguro Toji feels pleased; he lies on the backrest of his seat, right in front of an old machine and next to many other people desperately trying to win something. The more desperate they get, the more they lose.

Poker, Mahjong, horse races. money, lose the money. lose your life, lose the time until it is over.

“It looks like you have a lot of luck tonight, mister” a woman whose face he simply ignores, paws his wide frame.

“Get off, bitch” he mutters, scaring her away with his sharp -but really tired- eyes.

The lady walks away, spitting expletives that Toji couldn’t hear -nor cared to do so-. However, consequences were about to hit him.

Two guys, or maybe gorillas, appeared right behind his seat. “Sir, I must ask you to leave” one of them says, trying to snatch him from behind, passing one of the arms around his neck.

Unfortunately for them, as well as for Toji, the strength and speed of his Zen’in body  allows him to not only avoid the attack but also smash the head of the aforementioned gorilla against the Pachinko machine.

“Fuck you” he grunts, knowing too damn well the aggression didn’t come because of him disrespecting a lady but rather because his “luck” wasn’t welcomed into their business.

Honestly, given the right moment, Toji would have killed them both in no time… but tonight was different; some years -he doesn’t even remember how many- have passed and today marked the anniversary of his wife passing.

Toji stole a bun from the guy that was sitting by his side and walked away from the Pachinko parlor before the astonished looks of the people there. Nobody dared to follow him, they knew death would find them if they dared to mess a single second more with that man.

His steel blue eyes shine red as the lights of Kabukichō receive him in their sensual embrace. The attractive concupiscence of beautiful women dancing on windows catches his attention, but no woman is enough to make him feel any type of pleasure.

He is well aware of the many scams there, but he is sure nobody could scam him more than he could scam them.

Many women and men come closer, wearing revealing suggesting outfits; they touch him, they call him inside their “shops”. Yet, Toji still walks unaware, as if possessed. Some even offer him their services for free, his handsomeness is undeniable; his strong physique, delicious and tempting.

“Sir, sir!” you call him, tapping insistently on his wide shoulder. “SIR!” you repeat, as he seems not to hear anything around.

Toji turns around, all of a sudden, grabbing your hand to stop poking him. “What the fuck do you want, I don’t wanna fuck you… you…” he angrily barks, stopping immediately after watching your face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to… your… your wallet just fell from your pants” you tell him, scared and feeling the tight grip intensify around your wrist.

His eyes burn holes into yours, his expression turns troubled, darker. He is not blinking, and perhaps even not breathing.

“Do you work here?” he asks. “It’s my first night… I was promoting that- bar” you point out to the entrance of a quite ratchet facility of red and pink lights and semi naked woman pictures on their walls.  “I… your wallet” you murmur, showing him the black ragged leathery pouch that feels light and empty.

He lets your arm go and takes the wallet with absolutely no interest. His eyes, however, never let go of your face… you must be an interest to him?

“You… what’s your surname?” he asks, as if he was waiting to hear something revealing.

You frown; why would a complete stranger ask for your surname? Men in here only want one thing, and to them what’s your name is totally irrelevant for that purpose.

“It’s (Surname)” you tell him, either way. You had nothing to lose, after all.

He seems relieved but also a little disappointed. Truth is, that you look incredibly similar to his late wife… “Come here, I want you” he simply states, pulling from your hand to the inside of your work place.

You follow him with no time to say no… you wouldn’t say no anyway.

There is not much your boss can do either; he is in fact pleased to know that right after he hired you, you have already given him a client.

You open the door to the “rooms”. Precarious looking places that no man cares about as they only care the true purpose of his visit.

Once inside one of them, you close the door, and the red lights bathe both of your bodies as if it was a blood bath.

“Sir, which service would yo-“ you ask, but you are immediately silenced by his hand on your mouth. He pushes you to a round bed, making your back hit violently the mattress. You blink twice before he could pounce into you.

Toji is big enough to smash you with his body, and you honestly would love to die underneath his prominent chest tonight.

“I don’t care about the services you give, spread those legs” he orders, slapping the inner side of your knees.

You let your legs open wide, falling to each side. The short skirt you were wearing invites him to taste you; the buffed man with a scar on his lip sees everything you have to offer.

He smirks, so dark. And then, takes his black shirt off. His body is by far better than what you thought that tight shirt had already revealed to you. Each muscle perfectly showing like it’s been sculpted on his skin. The wide shoulders and prominent collarbones and pecs… he is the total embodiment of carnal desire.

Toji’s brute hands rip your almost transparent thong now; the elastic band snapping on your hipbone makes you squirm owning yourself to get his hand around your neck. “Stay still, bitch. You will have enough time to squirm around once I fuck you”

Your insides tremble, your core tenses. Such a disrespect makes you hornier instead of mad.

“Y-yes…” you stutter, finishing your words with a loud moan as his fingers penetrate you. Your back arches, and the more it does, the more he squeezes your neck.  

With lack of air and probably blue lips, your eyes turn white from pleasure. Your legs tend to close but you can’t as Toji prevents them to shutting.

“Hold on there, don’t close them. I need to prep you, you are too tight to me” he spits, reaching deeper with curled beckoning fingers hitting your top wall. You clench to the sheets, coffing and trying to grasp for some air… this man will kill you, and you will be smiling at him.

He takes his fingers out of you, giving you some seconds to rest. You watch your own arousal dripping down his hand and forearm. Toji sticks his tongue out in a disgusting, yet absolutely sexy way, and licks your salty products right from there.

“Not as good as my wife, but still good” he murmurs, leaving you startled… he has a wife?

Well, not exactly.

He turns you around from your right ankle, this man’s strength surpasses any limits. Your face hit the mattress, leaving you a little bit dizzy from the fall. Immediately after you could react, you feel two big hands lifting your ass from under your lower belly.

Knees carved on the bed, and also head as one of his heavy hands pass from your waist to your nape.

You sense two fingers spreading your folds, and the wet tongue of him licking from your clit to your ass. He has absolutely no decorum to do it, he does it so disgustingly lustful. Toji’s nose buries in your perineum as he sometimes focuses on your throbbing clit, sucking hard until your inner thighs begin to spasm and tremble.

Some spanks are added, that leave your cheeks burning. He goes even down, hitting the back of your thighs, a place that hurts but makes it even better. You are sure by now you must have created a pool of your fluids underneath you, and if not… well, you are most likely about to.

“Ehj… so wet…” he pants once he stops eating you out.

With difficulty you see him through the mirrored walls cleaning his mouth with the back of his forearm. Slanted eyes peek through black strands of hair, they meet yours and It’s both scary and hot.

Toji smirks, so devilishly and turns you once again around from your leg. You are like a mere doll to him.

He buries his fingers in your cheeks, making your lips pout and your eyes widen. You are still panting, so your breathing sounds loudly in between your fingers and a drop of saliva pools right in the middle of your lower lip.

That man has the look of a murderer, of a devil. With just one hand he gets rid of his grey pants along with his underwear. Your eyes confirm why he mentioned the need of you getting “prepped” as he exhibits his hard sex.

Purplish tip, veiny. It is not gigantic, but still constitutes a challenge for anyone to be able to take it. He is not going slow, nor carefully… and you know that for sure.

“I’m going raw, hope you are ready to become a single mother” he lets you know, as if you didn’t know already. You limit yourself to nod. You are honestly more worried for the integrity of your insides than that.

Toji kneels on the bed, sitting on top of his heels. He grabs you by your hips, pulling you over his lap to get your sex closer to his. A sex that with the simple touch of his warm precum covered tip makes your already overstimulated you to shiver.

His fist, also veiny, clench around his shaft. Toji pumps up and down two or three times and then plays with your wetting mess and his, giving you little slaps with his tip.

Strings of transparent lubrication mix; your neediness is that big you squeeze one of your breasts… it seems eternal, the wait, the desire…

The penetration. “Ngh…”

You arch your back while Toji penetrates you deeper and mercilessly, there is no escape as he has you trapped by the sides of your hips. Your toes curl, feeling the stretching of your cunt, and swearing his tip has probably reached a place nobody has ever reached inside you.

He begins fucking you, without moving a single muscle but his muscular arms. He is using you as a fleshlight, and his eyes are fixed in your beautiful pleasure façade.

“Keep moaning that way, you are almost identical” he grunts, moving you in and out faster and harder.

You aren’t very sure to who you are almost identical, but your brain has become nothing but a mere dumb slave of that lustful sexual torture.

He lifts from his heels, along with you. Your face and barely any of your nape remain on the mattress. To him moving your body, he adds his own hip thrusts. The sound of your skin slapping is almost as loud as your whining.

His forearm is the only thing holding you up by the small of your back, while his free hand now rips your little shirt open. Your breasts bounce in pure freedom, calling him to bite them so brutally. And so, he bends over to reach for your hard nipples.

Toji’s eyes never leave your façade, he seems possessed as he enjoys and also suffers.

“Fuck you bitch, how come you are that similar to her… you do the same fucking face” he spits, slapping your face and then burying his index and middle finger inside your mouth.

You choke but suck desperately. Your moans get muffled by his salty fingers; your sex has already undergone the stage of climax more than twice.

He can go for hours, pumping deep in you, biting your breasts, slapping you… and he does, until your conscious begins to fade, and he wishes to fill you up.

“Hold my cum inside, maybe I can give the fucking clan another kid” “Sir…? Which clan?”

I only touched her; I only fucked her because she looked just like you… I miss you, I miss you, I miss you so much...

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x y/n #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji fushigro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk scenarios

[youneedsomeprompts]

I am currently writing a story, and almost every character I’ve introduced so far uses she/her pronouns. I keep having to use their names over and over and it looks redundant and odd. I’ve used epithets a few times but I absolutely hate having to do that.

Is there any advice you have for this sort of issue, and if so, it would be great if you could share some! Thank you :)

Multiple Characters with the Same Pronouns

Having multiple characters with the same pronouns in one scene can make describing the scene a little difficult. I'm not sure if I have entirely new tips for you because you already pointed out the three most common ways to refer to a character (name, pronouns, epithets (a term used to characterise a person/thing)) and what the problems with each one can be. But I'll try my best :)

Repetition of Pronouns

First off, there is nothing wrong with using the character's pronouns a lot, as long as the reader can follow. A good thumb rule is that all fitting pronouns following the mention of a name (or an epithet) are referring to that mentioned character.

"Eleanor stormed out of the house. Her feet carried her aimlessly down the gravel path. She didn't care about the stares and she wouldn't slow down no matter what they would call after her. She had her mind made up."

This example is rather clear because there is not much back and forth between multiple characters with the same pronouns. It is very obvious that every 'she' and 'her' refers to the character named Eleanor. Now, if we have, let's say four characters in a scene that use she/her pronouns, we can still try to apply the same rule. Use an epithet or the name when the focus wanders from one character to the other. In between, when treating the same character, you can easily use their pronouns.

"Eleanor gritted her teeth. Why did she have to listen to her mother's long sermons? It wasn't fair. Everyone knew she had more important things to do. But now her mother's eyes bore even more accusingly into her. 'Do you think this is a joke, Eleanor?' Mother's voice flipped as she drew out the syllables of her daughter's name. 'Oh, leave her be, mother!' Ivy chimed in. She was always ready to defend her elder sister. She was such a sweetheart, Eleanor thought. Meredith, of course, had a different opinion. 'I don't know why Eleanor should get a different treatment than we. All she does is make trouble, and now there isn't even a consequence, or what?' She wasn't hateful, she just had a very strong sense of justice. Too strong maybe, Eleanor thought. People were different enough; a good reason to treat them individually and not by some harsh standards that Meredith so liked to set."

I don't know if this is the best example but I hope it demonstrates a way to deal with the problem. Just as using pronouns a lot, it's also alright to repeat the characters' names quite a few times. It can help the reader 're-centre' in the story and be clear about which character is actually doing what.

Epithets

As to epithets, you don't have to use them excessively if you don't like it, but I feel it can be a great way to loosen up the story a bit here and there. As you said, with quick changes of focus between the characters, there is not much possibility to use the pronouns because we have to 'reintroduce' the characters whenever the focus of action changes. We don't always want to use their name for that. So? Epithets? Maybe it helps to find the right epithets for your story. Maybe it doesn't feel cohesive to use attributes like 'the red-haired woman' or 'the grim-looking, old man'. Maybe it fits the story more to use the characters' roles like 'the teacher' or 'the butler'. I think when using the fitting epithets it can feel so coherent that you don't even notice them. E.g. Of course, character X is the driver, so we refer to them as the driver every now and then. Of course, character Y is the father of Z, so we can use epithets referring to their parental role. This, for example, can feel very natural, but what exactly feels natural is individual to every story/scene. It can be one way to look for the epithets that are most natural to the character to not interrupt the flow of the story. Or it can be another way to look for the epithets that most set the character apart from the other characters to make a clear distinction of who exactly is acting right now. You can make this choice again and again with every new sentence. And of course, there are a lot more ways to categorise and choose epithets (I could maybe make another post about that if there is interest). But I hope this may already help a little :)

Let me know if you have more questions about this topic!

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writeblr

[thankskenpenders]

Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

#tkp post #other media

[bitchesuntitled]

Memories

Summary: What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

Warnings: 18+ minors get outta here! Cursing, fluff, smut, feel good, oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), probably not like realistic medical knowledge but it’s fiction 🤷‍♀️

A/N: Thank you so much @papipascalispunk for editing. @jay-zzle for the idea AND the mood board 😍❤️ I really liked writing this and had a lot of fun with it. Hope y’all like it! @schnarfer(it's here!)

Masterlist

“Wait, who said we can’t have fruit bars anymore?” you ask, turning from the pantry to look at your seven year old daughter, Luna, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Daddy,” Luna states matter of factly, “He said that it’s fake food and we should only eat organic stuff.”

“Yeah, we need organic food,” your son Leo pipes in from the seat next to her. At three years old, he is currently in the copy everything big sister says or does phase.

“So, what do you want as a snack in your lunch box then?” you ask, raising your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“Uhhh… banana?” Luna shrugs, “Daddy wasn’t very specific on what I should eat instead.”

“Okay but get your breakfast eaten before your cereal gets soggy,” you say, pointing at both before starting on the dishes.

Of course Dieter would be the one to tell the kids not to eat certain foods. The man scolds you every time he sees your Bluetooth headphones – droning on and on about the effects it’ll have on your brain waves and how it’s going to damage your mind. Your relationship with Dieter was a bit of a chaotic whirlwind, meeting randomly on the set of one of the movies he starred in, one your friend was working on the set of.

“Well, hello there,” Dieter had said, standing next to you by the craft table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, looking around to see who he was actually talking to.

“Or should I walk by again?” he said with a smile.

“Is that how you get all the girls?” you asked, picking up a piece of cheese and pointing it at him, “Because that shit was pretty cheesy if you ask me.”

“No, trying something new,” Dieter said, cracking up into a giant fit of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. That– yeah, that was pretty good.”

“Bravo needed on set!” someone with a headset shouted in the distance, frantically waving at him.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he sighed, “Hope to see you ar– wait, what’s your name?”

You introduce yourself and he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, repeating your name and winking, “Hope to see you around.”

That was the conversation that started it all nearly eight years ago. Within the first year of knowing Dieter, you were married and pregnant – and no – it wasn’t a shotgun wedding, as much as the tabloids tried to pin it as one.

“Dieter Bravo and Mystery Woman Seen Leaving Las Vegas Wedding Chapel”

“Dieter Bravo Expecting First Child with New Wife – Shotgun Wedding?”

“How Long Before Dieter Bravo Gets His First Divorce?”

You both just knew you were meant to be together. With the birth of Luna, he had sobered up completely. These days he hardly even drinks beer. It’s weird in a way, that he’s changed so much from who you first met, but still the same Dieter in every other aspect. Wild, spontaneous, creative, romantic, chaotic at times, and so loving.

–

“Good morning, my babies,” Dieter says, waltzing into the kitchen, giving each of his kids a kiss on the top of their heads.

“Hi, Daddy,” Luna and Leo exclaim.

“Hello, my love,” Dieter smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist giving you a sloppy smooch on the cheek.

“Ew,” Luna shouts, making gagging noises.

“Yeah, what Luna said!” Leo says, copying his older sister with fake gagging.

“Stop with the fake gagging,” he replies, looking at them, “You’ll make mommy sick.”

“Hi, babe,” you laugh, “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”

“I want to start doing my own stunts like Tom Cruise,” Dieter explains excitedly, “And I think I’m going to crush it today! I’m supposed to scale a building, don’t worry, everything is going to be totally safe.”

“Seriously, Dieter?” you sigh, “You may say that it’s safe but I’m still going to worry – please be safe.”

Dieter gasps, putting his hand to his chest as if he were clutching a set of pearls. “Babies, I don’t think mommy trusts daddy!”

“Momma,” Leo laughs, perching up on the chair more, “Daddy be fine!”

“Yeah, momma,” Dieter says with a grin, “Daddy be fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, snorting and shaking your head, looking at your watch you realize you’re going to be cutting it close in getting Luna to school on time. “Shit!”

“Mommy,” Luna scolds, “You shouldn’t say bad words like that!”

“Luna, hurry up with your cereal or else you’re going to be late for school again,” you say as you turn to Dieter who is rummaging in the fridge for his own breakfast. “What time do you have to be on set?”

“In about an hour, get her to school. My favorite son and I will be fine here at home. If need be, I’ll tell the director that I’m going to be late. Family first,” he says, “Not like they’d fire me at this point. I’m the entire reason people are going to want to see this movie.”

“I love you so much,” you say, giving him a kiss before ushering Luna out the door.

“Love you too, baby!” Dieter shouts.

–

“I’m back,” you announce from the front door.

“That didn’t take as long as I expected,” Dieter chuckles, “I gotta get headed to the studio though.” He scoops Leo up into a tight hug, “We'll play superhero when I get back home, okay?”

“Otay,” Leo says, pouting.

“Poor baby,” Dieter coos and glances up at you with a smirk, “You sure you don’t want another one?”

“Dieter,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, “We’ve talked about this. If it feels right, then maybe, but right now? No.”

“Fine,” Dieter groans, “But the moment you think it feels right, tell me?”

“Promise,” you smirk.

Dieter tells Leo goodbye with the promise of playing superheroes when he gets back home. Your mind begins to wander back to Dieter’s question about another baby as you go about your chores. You start smiling thinking back to when you first decided to start trying for a baby –  lying in bed together shortly after getting married.

“How many kids do you want?” Dieter asked, playing with the wedding band on your finger.

“I’d always imagined three honestly,” you smiled, “Why?”

“I want whatever you want,” he grinned, slotting himself between your legs again. “But if you wanted at least one I wouldn’t mind trying now.”

“D, we just got married a month ago,” you said, shaking your head, “Is that the only reason you married me? To have a baby?”

“Of course not, baby,” Dieter said, linking his fingers with yours and pinning them above your head, “I just know I really, really want them with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you whispered, tilting your head up to capture his lips. He moaned into your mouth, slowly grinding his stiffness against you.

“Yes,” he panted, breaking the kiss.

“Let’s do it then,” you said, nipping his bottom lip, “Fuck a baby into me, Dieter.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he groaned.

“Momma!” Leo shouts, pulling you from your thoughts, “Your phone.”

You had been so deep in the memory you didn’t even notice your phone ringing. It’s just Dieter, probably checking in to see how your day is going. He tends to do that while he’s on breaks at work.

“Well, hello, Tom Cruise,” you answer, giggling – except it isn’t Dieter on the other end. 

Instead, you hear his assistant, Andy, saying your name before, “Dieter’s been in an accident. I’m almost to your house, I’ll watch Leo so you can go to Cedars-Sinai medical,” quickly spills out of his mouth, “It’s not good.”

–

It’s been two weeks that you’ve sat beside his bed in this damn hospital, waiting for him to wake up. The doctors are all hopeful that he’ll wake up at any minute, but it’s been two days since he’s been off the ventilator, and nothing has happened yet. The kids keep asking where their dad is, and you don’t have any other answer than he’s sick. 

“Dieter,” you beg, holding onto his hand, “Babe, please wake up. We need you. Luna and Leo miss you – I miss you. Please just wake up.”

The nurse comes in to check Dieter’s vitals for the third time today. Since she’s keeping him company, you decide to head to the cafeteria to get some food, grabbing something simple before heading back to Dieter’s room. When you return, you notice a flurry of activity.

“Mr. Bravo, can you tell me what year it is?” a doctor asks, shining a small flashlight in his eyes.

“Of course I can, dumbass! It’s 2016,” Dieter snaps. “Now will you stop shining that light in my eye?”

“What’s going on?” you ask hesitantly.

“He woke up while you went to get food,” a nurse explains, “We’re trying to make sure mentally he’s with us.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Dieter cries out, “I’m fine, never felt better! There, she must be my new assistant.”

All eyes turn to you. This was a possibility the doctor had talked about before – temporary amnesia. Hopefully that’s all it is. The doctor motions you to follow him out of the room.

“He seems to have hit his head harder than we thought. In all honesty, I would try to play pretend with him for a little bit. Try thinking of things that might remind him of who he actually is today,” the doctor suggests. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Bravo.”

Dieter is having a conniption in the room while nurses are trying to calm him down. As you step back in, you see your husband frantically disconnecting and throwing the wires off of his body and onto the floor. 

“Where the fuck is my assistant?” Dieter yells.

“Dieter, D, baby – Mr. Bravo!” you shout and Dieter immediately freezes, eyes wide as saucers. “You need to calm down before you hurt yourself.”

“What happened?” Dieter asks, looking around at everyone.

“We’ll give you guys some space,” a nurse says quietly while ushering the others out of the room. You grab the chair next to his bed and sit down, reaching for his hand but stopping yourself as you notice your ring. Right now, this isn’t your husband. This is Dieter Bravo who believes it’s the year 2016.

“You were in an accident, you hit your head pretty good,” you start explaining to him, “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks now.”

“So, who are you?” he asks, looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I knew my team wanted to hire me a new assistant since things didn’t work out with the last one – didn’t realize they’d pick someone so hot. Would you wanna have sex with me?”

“Dieter, I don’t think you’re cleared for those types of activities,” you chuckle, “I’m here for whatever you might need though.”

“Can you get me my phone?” he asks with those puppy-dog eyes he does best.

“Sure,” you reach for your purse digging around and find his phone, handing it over to him. “The passcode is 332016”

“The fuck? Why would I change it from the classic 42069?” he asks, looking at you with confusion.

“It’s uh… an important day to you,” you say, looking away, not wanting him to see the tears forming in your eyes. The day you met. 

“So, did I have an accident on set?”

“Yeah, you were scaling a building and the cable holding you snapped. You fell a good distance and smacked your head on the ground.”

“Wait,” Dieter says looking at his phone calendar, pointing it towards you, “Why does this say it’s 2024?”

“Because it’s not 2016,” you shrug, “It’s 2024.”

“How long have I been in a fucking coma?” Dieter asks, starting to panic again, frantically searching through the contacts in his phone, “Why can’t I find my dealer's number? I need coke. Wait, you’re my fucking assistant – go get me coke!”

“You’ve only been in a coma for two weeks and the only coke I’ll get you is Coca Cola,” you say crossing your arms, “I won’t let you have drugs in m– the house, Dieter.”

“Wait, my assistant lives with me?” he gasps, “You’re just supposed to come when I call you.”

“Different kind of assistant here.”

“Wait, I can’t have you in my house! I see that ring on your finger – I don’t want to get in between a marriage,” Dieter says, pointing at your left hand.

“It’s– it’s complicated right now,” you shrug.

“Fine, stay in my house, but stay out of my way,” Dieter sighs in frustration.

This is going to be a lot harder than you thought. He doesn’t remember who you are to him. He doesn’t remember getting clean when he married you. He doesn’t remember anything. Going home that night doesn’t help either because Luna wants to know what’s going on with her dad.

“Andy said that daddy woke up!” Luna says vibrating with excitement, “How come he’s not home?

“I had to leave him at the hospital because he’s still sick, honey.” You sit down on the plush couch in the living room, “Come here. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Luna hesitantly says, coming to sit next to you.

“Daddy is still sick. He looks fine but his brain is sick right now.”

“What’s that mean?” she questions, looking at you with the same eyes as her father.

“He doesn’t remember some stuff about his life right now,” you continue, “But we are gonna try to help him get it back. We have to think of the best memories we have with daddy so that maybe he’ll remember better.”

“So, we have to fix daddy?” she asks with tears in her eyes as you grab her into a hug, stroking her hair.

“Yeah, sweet girl, we have to fix daddy,” you say, trying not to cry yourself.

–

What was supposed to only be a few days turned into a week at the hospital. A week of playing Dieter’s assistant and having him boss you around. He was still adamant on getting drugs, but you put your foot down on that one. You weren’t going to let him ruin his seven years of sobriety just because he lost his memory.

“Alright Mr. Bravo looks like you’re all set to leave. Just need you to sign a couple of papers here and then you can be on your way,” the doctor says, handing him the papers.

“Fucking finally,” Dieter groans, “Not that this isn’t a wonderful hospital, but I’d much rather be home.”

“Of course,” the doctor says.

“Will you go ahead and bring the car around? I’d rather not walk too much considering my condition,” Dieter asks, looking at you.

“Of course, D– Mr. Bravo,” you grit through your teeth with the most customer service smile you can muster. That was a new development, Dieter wanting you only to refer to him as Mr. Bravo. You rush out of the room so that it doesn’t blow up into another argument. He’s already tried to fire you twice because of the no drugs thing. You had to make up some story of how you’re in a five-year contract that cannot be broken and tell him three times before he finally bought the story.

Pulling the car around to the front of the hospital, you see him being wheeled out.

“Thank you again so much for taking care of me,” he says, winking at the nurse, “Best care I’ve ever received!”

“No problem at all, Dieter,” she giggles. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” Dieter asks, looking expectantly at the nurse after getting settled into the passenger seat of the car. She shakes her head violently.

“No, sorry,” she says before running off wheeling the wheelchair back into the building.

“Well, that was fucking weird,” Dieter says, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong? Most women don’t literally run from me like that.”

“No, Mr. Bravo, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you growl, “Nothing at all.”

You begin to play a song you hope might bring back some sort of memory of you. With all the hope you can muster you hit play and hear Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz, one of the songs you guys would listen to while you got high together. Dieter starts to chuckle listening to the song.

“What?” you snap at him.

“It’s just this song,” Dieter said grinning, “It reminds me of someone.”

“Oh?” you ask, trying not to pry too much hoping he’ll just continue talking.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what her name is, though. Good lay, that’s for damn sure,” he says, laughing a little, “All I remember is she wasn’t even in the business, she’d call me out on all my shit, and we would smoke weed together listening to this song a lot. I think that’s why I liked her. Wonder what she’s up to these days?”

“Oh um… who knows, maybe she’s still in town?” Your heart swells realizing he’s talking about you, that he remembers some remnants of you. 

“No way!” Dieter says and sighs, “Way too fucking good for someone like me anyways. Probably found some nice guy, got married, has kids, the whole white picket fence shit and everything. She was way out of my league.”

Pulling up to the house you don’t even know what to say to him. He looks almost defeated in a way and then looks confused when he sees the front door opening.

“Oh no,” you whisper, watching Luna run to the car, “Dieter, wait here. Do not move!”

“Why the fuck are there children at my house?” he asks while you’re getting out, but you shut the door behind you, ignoring him.

“Luna, baby, I need you to go back into the house. Daddy’s sick, remember?” you say, trying to usher her back up the driveway.

“Mommy!” Leo shrieks, running to you.

“Fuck – I mean fudge,” Andy says, frantically running out to the driveway, “I was in the bathroom. She must’ve heard the car, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“The hell is going on here?” Dieter’s voice booms while getting out of the car, “I asked you why there are kids in my house.”

“Da–” Luna starts, but you cut her off.

“You two, inside. Now,” you say, ushering them towards Andy. Once they’re inside you whip around to look at Dieter standing by the car.

“You,” you snarl, walking towards him, “Screw what the doctor said. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m not your fucking assistant so stop bossing me around. I’m your wife – those two are our children!”

“Wha–” Dieter stares at you with wide eyes, “D– DNA Test, I want a fucking DNA test!”

“Dieter, there isn’t a need for a DNA test because they’re your kids. I mean, did you even look at them?”

“Those are not my kids, they look Latino,” he argues.

“Dieter!” you yell, “You are Latino.”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, looking down. “So, you’re my wife?”

“Yes, Dieter, I’m your wife. I’m the girl that would get high with you listening to Clint Eastwood.”

“Wild,” he says looking at the house, the ground below him, the yard, anywhere but you “Wild.”

–

It’s been a week at home now, but Dieter is trying his hardest to regain his memory after you lay everything out on the table for him. You show him pictures of your Las Vegas wedding, your pregnancy photos, the kids’ births – he finally relents to the truth when you show him their birth certificates with his name listed under Father. Luna has been trying to show him drawings that she’s done for him, but nothing is working. Poor Leo just wants to play superheroes, but at just three years old, he doesn’t understand what’s going on at all.

One night, after you put the kids to bed, Dieter comes to your bedroom.

“What if we had sex?” he suggests.

“Dieter, I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” you groan, flopping onto the bed rubbing your eyes.

“I’m just saying, what if we did?” he shrugs, “Was just a suggestion, but I get it.”

“Come here,” you say, patting the spot next to you in bed. He reluctantly sits down next to you as you open your arms as an invitation. “How about we cuddle?”

He nods, setting his head on your chest. You can tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands because he’s so tense. You grab one of them and push it around your back, hoping he’ll understand your silent suggestion. 

“Like this?” he whispers, carefully adjusting both arms to wrap around you.

“Just like that,” you hum, stroking the curls at the base of his neck, breathing his scent in for the first time in weeks. Clean laundry, a hint of eucalyptus, and something that’s so specifically Dieter.

“I like this,” Dieter purs, rubbing his head against your chest, “I wish so badly I could just remember everything.”

“I know D, I know,” you sigh, continuing to gently stroke his head, “We’ll get there.”

Dieter moves so his head is in the crook of your neck. You feel his lips begin to place soft kisses against your skin.

“Dieter,” you gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna make you feel better,” he says, giving you those puppy dog eyes you can never refuse. “You’ve had to deal with a lot and this is the only way I know how to try and make things right.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding your head. As much as you’ve avoided intimacy with Dieter while his memory was gone, he’s still your Dieter and you miss him. 

He starts nipping along your jaw and down your neck. One of his hands moves to your breast gently kneading it. His lips move down your throat to your chest, making his way down to your stomach and pushing your shirt up. He places several kisses around your navel down to the top of your underwear, looking up at you again for confirmation. “It’s okay,” you nod, giving him the go ahead. He peels them off your hips and down your legs, throwing them to the floor.

Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your seam. Working his tongue against your clit and back down to your entrance. Up and down, up and down.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed this,” you cry out, running your fingers through his hair, “Feels so fucking good!”

Dieter starts humming, loving the praise you were giving him. His tongue continues circling your bundle of nerves, hoping to hear more words of praise.

“Taste so fucking good,” he says breaking away, “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You grip his hair tightly and shove his face back to your core. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please don’t stop,” you moan, “I’m so fucking close!”

Dieter doubles down his efforts after hearing those words. He’s determined to get you off now. One of his hands makes its way to your center, teasing your entrance before plunging two of his thick fingers inside, curling them up to hit that spot only he’s ever been able to reach.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, back arching, “Y– yes, just like that!”

He starts grunting, rutting into the mattress, so badly needing to make you come. He knows you’re close, listening to your breathing and hearing the pitch of your moans. 

“D,” you moan, while he grabs your thighs, pulling you unbelievably closer to his face to completely devour you before sliding his fingers back into you. “I’m gonna come!”

“Give it to me, baby, come on,” he says, pulling away panting before diving back in for more, “I need it”. He feels the way your legs begin to shake, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Fuck,” you hiss, head thrown back against the pillow closing your eyes, “I– I’m gonna… god.”

Dieter feels your walls constrict around his fingers and hums, collecting your release slowly. He takes his time licking you clean before you push him away, feeling overly sensitive. When you finally open your eyes to look at him, you notice his smile and a glint in his eyes. He crawls back up the length of your body and you grab his face, kissing him deeply tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I can’t believe you married me,” he says, breaking the kiss and wrapping his arms around you again, “Love me forever?”

“Dieter, I’m pretty sure I’ve already proven that I’ll love you forever,” you softly chuckle, beginning to stroke his back.

–

The doctor keeps saying to just be patient, that it’s going to take time for Dieter’s memory to return. But it feels like it’s been forever as another week passes. Everyone is getting frustrated, especially Leo.

“Why is daddy broke?” Leo screams at the top of his lungs, “He no play with me!”

“Leo, Daddy just doesn’t feel good,” you try to explain.

“He no like me!” Leo wails, “He only likes Luna.”

“Leo, daddy does too like you,” you try telling him, “He loves you very much.” 

“No,” Leo cries as you scoop him up as he buries his face into your shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” you soothe.

It wasn’t that Dieter wasn’t trying with the kids, he just didn’t know how. His dad instincts hadn’t been brought back full-force. He was great with Luna –  engaged in conversation with her, drew pictures with her, watched her put on fashion shows. With Leo though, he didn’t know how to interact with a toddler. Leo would get upset and Dieter didn’t know what to do besides call you for help. Before Dieter’s accident Leo was his little buddy, followed him everywhere, would play with him for hours being superheroes or whatever Leo decided on that day.

You were able to get Leo to calm down and because of his tantrum he wound up falling asleep. After putting him in his bed for a nap you went to search for Dieter.

“Hey,” you sigh, seeing him standing by the window looking into the backyard.

“Hey,” he says sniffling, wiping his sleeve against his nose, “I’m so sorry.”

“Dieter, I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to. Leo misses you! I know that you’re trying, I do, but I need you to try harder for him,” you sigh, “I can’t pretend that I even know what you’re going through, but our baby boy is hurting because he misses his dad!”

“I know,” Dieter says turning around, you could now see the tears falling down his face, “It’s just… he scares me! It’s easier with Luna because I can understand every word she says, she can show me things, she doesn’t throw a tantrum every five minutes.”

“Dieter, he’s your son! Not some little monster to be scared of! He’s three and doesn’t know any better,” you scold him, “Like I said, I just need you to try.”

“Okay,” Dieter agrees, wiping the tears off his face, “When he wakes up from his nap, I’ll try.”

Dieter could hear Leo awake in his room as he slowly made his way there.

“Dad-Bomb an’ dude-bomb! To rescue!” Leo says, jumping off his bed with a cape around his shoulders. Dieter stands in the doorway observing him. Why did that sound so familiar? Dad-Bomb.

“Hey Leo,” Dieter says cautiously, “What are you playing?”

“Superhero,” Leo smiles, “Want to play with me?”

“Can I?” Dieter exclaims, “I’ve always wanted to be a superhero!”

“Yeah!” Leo shouts, running to his closet to grab something. He comes back out with a big purple cape with D-B on the back, handing it to Dieter. “Put on your cape.”

Dieter pulls the cape around his neck, tying it so it wouldn’t fall off. He notices Leo’s little green cape he was wearing also had D-B on the back.

“Do we have names, Leo?” Dieter asks, “I can’t help but see we have stuff on the back of our super-awesome capes!”

“I’m Dude-Bomb, you’re Dad-Bomb!” Leo gleefully exclaims 

“Dad-Bomb?”

“Yeah, like ‘da-bomb’ –  means super cool,” Leo giggles.This was starting to feel extremely familiar to Dieter. 

Leo scampers off to his closet again, rummaging through it trying to find something. He comes back holding a piece of paper and hands it to Dieter. Dieter holds it up, staring at it. His drawing of Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb, fighting crime together, and it all comes rushing back.

“Oh my god, Leo,” Dieter yells.

He picks Leo up, swinging him around. Hearing the commotion, you start running towards Leo’s room fearing the worst. Rounding the corner into the room, you saw Dieter crying, hugging Leo tightly and swinging him back and forth.

“Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb!” Dieter exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, that’s you an’ me!” Leo announces proudly.

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, looking at both of them.

“Yeah. March 3, 2016 – that’s the day I met you,” Dieter says, tears rolling down his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “Baby.”

“Yeah, baby. It’s all back,” he says, setting Leo back down and rushing to grab you in a tight embrace, “I’m back.”

#fanfic writing #fanfiction #dieter bravo fan fiction #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter x reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal character smut #fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction

[neonghostlights]

Fuckboy!Werewolf!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Death of family members and parents (readers whole family is dead), Reader wears a nightgown, cussing, I think that might be it. 18+ only for all of my writing. Minors DNI.

Wordcount: 5k

Previous Chapter

You had made it two weeks without running into Eddie Munson again. 

And you used the term “running into” very loosely because it wasn’t like you stumbled into him, he just happened to randomly show up at your job. 

The last time you saw him was when you had had that very awkward chat in the bookshelves and you didn’t really want a repeat of that. You hoped that he had taken the hint and was going to leave you alone for now. 

You were off today. For once. And you really weren’t sure what to do with yourself. 

You hadn’t planned to do anything today, especially not sitting around and thinking about Eddie Munson. 

You had gotten the house clean and everything put away. All of your aunts' things that you weren’t holding onto had been either donated or put into storage for another time. 

You currently stood on your little porch, a hot cup of coffee in hand. The mug you held was obviously well used based on the small cracks in the ceramic and the worn down paint from where it had been used regularly. It was one of the few things you kept of your aunts and it made you feel like a fraud. You didn’t even know her and you were putting your mouth in the same spot she did when she had her morning coffee. 

Your eyes narrowed as you stared over your not-so-freshly-mowed-anymore yard. The whole situation unnerved you but you had the thought that maybe someone in town had stopped by and decided to mow it for you. Maybe it was a neighborly welcome present. Or maybe a lawn care crew had gotten the wrong address and it was a blessing sent from above that your overly paranoid mind couldn’t just let go of.  

You tried to ignore the fact that you didn’t have any neighbors and that you lived far enough away from the town for it to be weird if someone decided to randomly stop by. But it was weird enough to bug you.

And it was a lot of yard to mow too. You had quite a bit of land between the front and the backyards  plus all of the land that followed the drive leading up to the road. 

It really didn’t make sense. 

It felt like you were a few chapters into a mystery novel. Whether you were the victim or the detective was still to be discovered. 

You sipped your coffee suspiciously, your bathrobe pulled tight to hide the nightgown you thought made yourself more sophisticated. It didn’t. You just looked like a grandma but you still liked it anyway. 

Mornings like these reminded you of the days you would sit out on the porch with your grandparents while they enjoyed their morning cigarettes. Although you still weren’t smoking, it was a nice reminder either way. 

You gathered your cup, ready to head inside when you thought you heard a rustling at the side of the trailer. You leaned over the railing, keeping in mind the way it wiggled against your weight like it would give out at any minute. It was probably so old and rotted that any more pressure on it would cause that whole side of the porch railing to fall off completely. 

You had come to learn since you moved in here that there were a lot of things that your aunt hadn’t taken care of while she lived here. You didn’t want to assume that she was lazy by any means. You weren’t really sure of her mental or physical state and it may have been hard for her to keep up with. 

You knew she was young when she left your grandparents house at just freshly nineteen years old. You didn’t know all of the details but you had been trying to jog your memories to try to remember any passing mentions of her from growing up. 

From what you could tell her departure was sudden and it ripped a hole in your grandparents hearts. She never came back to visit but she did send letters every once in a while that you never managed to get your hands on. After their deaths, you tried to find them but you assumed they were tossed out or lost somewhere as your grandparents aged. 

Sometimes it felt like you were cursed since you had lost all of your family so young. All of the people who helped raise you had all departed the earth as soon as you hit adulthood. You wished your aunt was still around and that you knew where to find her sooner. Maybe it would have been nice to build a relationship with someone. You didn’t have many friends back in your hometown, no one to put up a fight or worry about you when you packed up and left. 

Maybe it would be nice to actually have a family. 

The little bell dinged over the doors as you stepped inside the small general store. 

You weren’t here for many things, mainly just to check out their selection of tools and such to help with fixing your porch railing, the hole in the living room wall, and the leaky bathroom sink. Those were just the things you could list off the top of your head today. You were sure there were more underlying issues that you would discover before the end of this week. 

It was like the newness of the trailer had worn off for you and with your aunt's things out it was blatantly obvious that you had bit off a lot more than you could chew. 

It was later in the day than you would like to have made it out to town. You had gotten a little sidetracked earlier and one chapter of the new book you picked up earlier that week turned into six. 

“Welcome! If you need help finding anything then let me know!” A short woman with dark hair called out from behind some cans that she was strategically trying to stack into a pyramid. 

She dropped one while she was waving her hand at you and it hit the tiled floor with a smack before rolling to your feet. You crouched down to pick it up and walked it over to her with a sympathetic smile. 

She took it from you, with a thank you before wincing at the dented side. She put the can in the middle of the soup pyramid, surrounded by other cans to hide the dent. 

“I was actually looking for some stuff. I was wondering if you could tell me if you have some hammers, nails or just normal stuff to fix up a crappy trailer?” You inquired with a shrug, holding the crumpled notebook paper with your shopping list sloppily jotted down on it. 

“Well,” the lady started in an apologetic voice. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of any of that here anymore since the hardware store got a well deserved upgrade a few streets over. My son actually works there and he should be able to help you. It’s tucked next to a bakery and a park so it shouldn’t be too hard to miss if you’re looking for it.” 

“Thank you, Joyce,” you said with a smile as you read her name tag quickly. 

“You’re welcome. I actually haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new in town?” She asked as she stacked another can. 

You nodded quickly and told her your name. “I actually took over my aunt's place right on the outskirts of town after she passed. I’ve been here for maybe a month and a half.” 

Joyce’s expression changed some into something like surprise then to an understanding nod that all mothers seem to possess. 

When she didn’t say anymore you cleared your throat and started to back away. Maybe she knew your aunt and didn’t like her. Or maybe this conversation had run its course. 

“Thanks for the help,” you said awkwardly as you started to push the door open. 

Joyce called your name, a small smile on her lips as she waved at you. 

“Welcome to Hawkins! I think you might really like it here!” 

It wasn’t hard to find the hardware store and you were surprised you hadn’t noticed it sooner since it was practically down the street from the bookstore. 

It was hard learning your way around a  new town, no matter how small it was. 

The hardware store smelt like paint and wood which wasn’t necessarily a bad smell. You took a deep inhale before grabbing a cart and making your way through the aisles. 

You heard your name being called behind you and you turned in surprise. It wasn’t often that people around here knew your name or spoke to you first. 

A tall guy with straight brown hair that hung over his eyebrows  jogged up to you from the end of the aisle. He wore a blue t-shirt with a red apron tied around his waist. 

“I’m Jonathan,” he announced as he reached you. “My, uh, mom told me you were coming this way and told me you had a list?” He said as more of a question than a statement. 

“I know,” he said with a shy smile as you told him your name. He scanned the paper you handed him. “This way,” he said with a wave and you scurried with the cart to keep up with him. 

“What are you working on?” He asked as he started to go around the aisles and load things into your cart. You made a mental note to look at each price so you could keep an estimate on the total in your head. As of right now, it would be a little expensive but you thought you could do it. 

“I’m not really sure. There’s just a lot of stuff around my place that needs to be fixed up and I feel like I find more and more things broken everyday. I’m assuming you know a lot about how to fix stuff right?” You asked, hoping he could give you some pointers as he led you to the check out with a full cart. 

Jonathan's nose and cheeks turned a little pink and he looked shyly down at the hammer he was holding as he typed in the price. 

“Actually, no. I’m just here to save up for some new photography equipment so I can start my own business. It was the only place in town that was hiring when I needed a job. So..” He trailed off with a little shake of his head. 

“Photography’s cool,” you said as you stared at the price go up on the little screen behind the cash register. You felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind at the number on the screen. 

You must have done the math in your head wrong. 

Jonathan nodded absentmindedly as he scanned the last item. You watched as he wrote down the total on a scrap piece of paper and then typed in a bunch of random numbers on the cash register, making the number drop drastically. 

“Wait, why did it go down?” You gasped in disbelief. 

“It’s a welcome to Hawkins discount. All new people get it,” he said without looking at you. 

“You give all new people in town a fifty percent discount?” You questioned. 

He just shrugged and refused to look at you again. 

It was dark now that you were finally heading home. 

After the hardware store, Jonathan loaded up all the things in your car for you and sent you on your way. 

To finish off your trip into town, you decided to stop by the deli and get yourself a sandwich which you sat outside to eat since the weather was nice. 

You watched as the cars drove up and down the street, going about their days. Every so often, someone would stick their hand out their car windows to wave at you when they caught you staring. You would cheekily wave back with a smile. 

It was nice to be somewhere that wasn’t work or home. It was nice to see people outside of the bookstore. It was nice to have people actually see you. 

When the sun started to dip below the horizon you picked up your trash and made your way back to your car. 

You hummed all the way down the road to whatever song was on the radio. Bopping your head along to the upbeat chorus and vocals to the next pop hit of the year. 

You were so close to home, finally on the curvy and wooded road that led to your driveway. The sun was gone completely now and you could see the moon hanging proudly in the cloudless sky.

You were in the middle of singing along to the bridge when you felt the pop underneath your feet. 

And then the car started to shake and rumble. 

“No, no, no,” you whined as you pulled the car to the side of the road. 

You smacked the steering wheel a few times with the palms of your hands once the car reached a complete stop. It felt lopsided, the telltale sign that there was a flat somewhere. 

You glanced in your rearview mirror to see nothing but your flashers lighting up the complete darkness behind you rhythmically before throwing open your door and stepping out. 

The tire was completely flat. 

You leaned down, examining it just to see a big slash cutting through it. You must have hit something sharp when you were leaving town. 

Whatever you had run over must have been big enough to do some serious damage. You wondered how you missed it but blamed it on the fact that you were just having a full on concert by yourself. 

You groaned and looked up and down the road in hopes of seeing some headlights. 

This road wasn’t busy by any means. It was rare to see someone else passing through when you were on the way to and from work.

You were gonna be stuck here for a while. 

You grabbed the car door again, ready to throw yourself in when you heard something coming from the woods. 

It was soft at first, barely noticeable. You strained, trying to make sure your mind wasn’t  playing tricks on you like it was known to do sometimes. 

It was a cascade of whispers, all talking over each other. Men and women. Young and old. All talking in the woods like there was some sort of large gathering. 

You wondered if maybe the woods weren’t as thick as you thought and there were actually some houses. Perhaps you could go to one and find a phone to use. 

You found your feet moving away from the car without even closing the door. You couldn’t stop yourself as you kept walking across the road without looking either way to check for any oncoming cars.

The whispers got louder the second you broke through the brush. You weren’t sure where you were going, but you knew if you followed the voices you would be okay. They would lead you to safety. 

It was warm in the woods, like you had been wrapped by a comfortable blanket. You felt safe. How could you ever feel scared out here? 

You passed a thick tree, probably the tallest you had seen in the forest so far. You weren’t sure how long you had been walking at this point. It didn’t matter as long as you were still walking towards the voices. They would take care of you. 

The whispers got louder, reaching a deafening level. It felt like the volume in your ears got turned up to one hundred. \

You had no clue what they were saying but you didn’t care. You wanted to keep listening to them for as long as you could. You thought that you might just follow those voices anywhere that they wanted to leave you. 

And then they stopped. 

It was an abrupt silence, like the pause after a candle's flame gets blown out. 

Your ears rang and the cold air kissed your skin. Goosebumps broke out up and down your arms when you realized that you were standing in the middle of the woods. 

Alone. 

And something had led you here. 

The bushes starated  rustling in front of you, a thick section of trees and bushes moving like something was trying to break free. It was an ominous feeling that started in your gut, the feeling that whatever was moving in those bushes was pure terror. 

And it was coming for you. 

You didn’t have time to react before the wolf jumped in front of you. 

It backed against you, pushing you away from the spot in the woods that seemed darker than the rest of the forest. 

It growled a deep growl, baring its teeth in anger towards the unknown threat. The hair on the back of your neck stood on its end at the menacing sound.

You wanted to cover your ears and hide. 

You backed away, back hitting a tree as you coward from the sight in front of you. 

The wolf lunged, snapping its large jaws into the bushes. You hid your face, not wanting to see what it was up against. 

You waited for it to turn to you and realize you were there. You waited for those jaws to start snapping at you too. 

But that never happened. 

The bushes stopped rustling and there was a stillness in the air. The chill didn’t lift off your skin, it was dragged off like it didn’t want to leave. 

You didn’t realize the crickets had stopped chirping until they started singing again. 

Whatever threat lurked in the bushes was gone. You could feel the disappearance of its heavy presence lift off your mind. Air moving in out of your lungs was easier than before and you gasped a few times as your lungs begged for the oxygen it had been deprived of. 

Footsteps running through the forest behind you had you yelping and wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Like you would be able to protect yourself with your bare hands from the monster of a wolf in front of you and whatever unseen force that had just lured you out here with its evil mind tricks. 

A group of men came breaking through the trees with wild and concerned looks on their faces. All of the eyes landed on you, including the wolves,  and you didn’t like the attention. 

You felt your eyes practically bulge out of your head when you recognized Jonathan Byers. 

Why the hell would they be out in the woods at this time of night too? 

“Jonathan?” You called out, making sure your eyes didn’t deceive you. 

The wolf let out a low warning growl that had you leaning away from it, practically crawling into the tree's bark.  

You hadn’t realized how close the wolf had gotten to you since the last time you looked at it. You could practically feel the heat coming off of its fur in waves. The wolf stood between you and the men, like it was shielding you from their eyes. 

Like it didn’t want them to look at you. 

“Please don’t bite me,” you whispered to the wolf when his eyes landed on you again. 

One of the strangers didn’t hold back his snort. 

“Trust me. I think he really wants to bite you-ow,” he whined when an elbow landed in his ribs.

“Shut up, Gareth,” said one with styled brown hair. 

“It’s true!” Gareth exclaimed, pointing between you and the wolf. 

“What the hell is going on?” You snapped, wincing when the wolf looked at you. 

It was ginormous and it was safe to assume that it was the very same wolf you had seen weeks ago. It was even bigger this up close and you had to strain your neck to look up at it. 

“Nice doggy,” you cooed, trying to get on its good side. 

This time all of the men laughed and you couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you bit out. 

The wolf growled again, stepping forward at the men as he did so. None of them flinched or looked afraid though.

They just looked like a group that had been scolded. 

“Sorry,” Jonathan apologized. 

“Maybe you should-uh-change,” one of the guys said to the wolf like he could really understand what he was saying. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. He tossed a thick blanket at the wolf, which he caught between his massive teeth with a snap of his jaw. You hadn’t even realized he was hiding something behind his back. 

It really wasn’t safe for you to be out here. 

The wolf stared at them blankly with the blanket hanging out of his mouth like a limp tongue. 

“We’ll watch out for her,” Jonathan offered.

This seemed to make the wolf kind of happy because he squinted his eyes, like he was sending them a threat with just a look, before nodding his head once and sulking between the trees where you couldn’t see him any more. 

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You demanded, stepping away from your little safe spot beside the tree. 

But none of them listened because they were all talking to each other. 

“Maybe he should just tell her.” 

“Tell her?! He just showed her.” 

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know.”

“She’s not stupid!” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“She has ears and is standing right here!” You yelled, shutting them up. They all turned to look at you in unison, eyes wide. 

“I’m Jeff.” The one that had been holding the blanket said as he stepped forward. “That one that called you stupid is Gareth, over there is Steve and I think you’ve met Jonathan.”

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on? Why the hell am I out here in the middle of the woods? Why the hell are all of you out here in the woods?” 

“Listen, you just need to stay-“

A twig snapped behind you and you jumped forward towards the guys and away from whatever was sneaking up behind you. 

“Relax,” you heard Eddie say behind you. You hated that you were able to recognize his voice.

You whipped your head around meeting his wide eyed stare. He was naked. Completely. Only wrapped in the blanket that had once been in the wolf's mouth. 

It looked bigger around Eddie. The wolf had been so massive that it has made the blanket look like a bath towel. 

“Eddie?” You asked, although you could clearly see it was him.

He nodded, keeping the blanket snug around his waist as he walked towards you. 

You took a step back. 

“Listen,” he started, voice raspy like his throat had been strained. You imagined that's the way his voice would sound after singing front row at a concert, or maybe even after a screaming match over something he felt passionate about. “I can explain everything to you. But I need to get you out of the woods first.” 

He had tattoos. A few scattered on his arms and chest. You couldn’t see them clearly in the darkness and you found your eyes bouncing between them. 

He held out a hand that wasn’t holding the blanket to his body. It slipped down his hips a little, giving you a peak of his lower abdomen and the little trail of hair there. Your eyes traced the line of hair before you looked back at his face. 

If he asked you if you were checking him out you would deny it and say you saw a spider crawling on him or something. 

But to your surprise he didn’t ask. Nothing about him seemed smug. Instead his face was twisted into a grim notion of worry that made you worry as well. 

“Why are you naked?”  You asked instead of taking his hand. 

“I told you I would tell you but we need to go,” he urged, rushing his words out as he took another step towards you, reaching for your hand. 

You jerked your hands back, not letting him touch you. 

“No,” you said firmly. “I”m getting out of this forest but I’m not going with you anywhere.” 

Eddie sighed, gripping the blanket tightly with one hand and using the other to run through his hair. 

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth, looking behind his back. 

Maybe now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. 

You spun on your heels, marching in a direction that felt right. 

“This way,” Eddie said as he put an arm around you to spin you around. 

You didn’t argue this time or claw away from his touch. Your skin burned from the way his bare arm wrapped against yours. You just wanted to get out away from whatever was in these woods and needed to put aside your dislike of Eddie so you could make it out in one piece. 

If the wolf or whatever that evil thing was came back all you would need to do to survive was run faster than Eddie. 

You marched through the woods, not as gracefully as Eddie strolled through like he owned the place. He was leading the group with you at his side. The rest of the guys flanked behind you, protecting your backs. 

At least that was the way it felt. 

“Did you see the wolf?” You finally asked, breaking the silence that had only been filled with the crunch of leaves, sticks and the occasional times you slipped a curse word out when you tripped and Eddie had to hold onto you to keep you back up. 

You really weren’t made to walk in the woods. Especially not with the shoes you were wearing. 

You saw Eddie nod slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

“Oh come on! You’re telling me you haven’t put two and two together yet?!” Gareth exclaimed from behind you in disbelief. 

You skidded to a stop. 

You had to admit. Your mind had been reeling with theories since you had seen Eddie walk out of the bushes naked. 

The wolf was gone and Eddie appeared.

 Naked. 

But things like that didn’t exist. Boys that wore too much leather and broke girls' hearts were just bad people. Not werewolves that went into the woods to rescue you when an unknown force led you there against your will. 

“Prove it,” you demanded, looking Eddie right in the eye. 

He didn’t question what you were asking for. He didn’t even look confused. He just stared right back with such an intensity, like he was reading your soul. 

“Didn’t the wolf look familiar?” He asked as he leaned closer to you. “Didn’t I look familiar?” 

You wracked your brain, trying to think of what he could possibly be talking about. 

And then it hit you. 

You gasped and he nodded slowly, already understanding your thought process. 

The wolf in the middle of the road. 

How could Eddie know about that? 

He couldn’t.

 Unless he was there. 

“I almost hit you!” You yelled at him. 

He didn’t even flinch or look angry. He just looked down at you, a dopey smile spreading across his face. Like he thought that your anger was the most charming thing he had ever seen. 

He wasn’t taking this seriously at all. He didn’t take you seriously. 

You didn’t care if Eddie was a damn wolf. You didn’t care if he paraded around the woods naked in his freetime. 

What you did care about was him being reckless and involving you in his shit when you were just trying to get by. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

“A lot. I told you,” Eddie said as he gripped your arm, leading you towards the break in the trees. “I can answer your questions when I get you out of these damn woods.” 

Your car was immediately to your left when you broke through the trees. The driver's side door was still open from where you had abandoned it. 

The flashers you had left on were no longer blinking. 

You had to shimmy out of Eddie's grasp but he still hovered around you. He made a point to position you so his body was the one that was closest to the road. 

You didn’t feel like arguing with him. You also didn’t understand why he insisted on being so near you. 

The rest of the guys here gave you distance, almost like they were afraid to get too close. 

“My tire is flat,” you mumbled to no one in particular. “That’s why I stopped in the first place.”

Steve let out a low whistle as he crouched to inspect your tire. 

“Yeah I would say it’s flat,” he mumbled. 

You saw Eddie’s jaw clenched out the corner of your eye but you ignored him. 

“Do you have a spare?” Eddie asked, already reaching for the trunk. 

“I’m pretty sure. I haven’t really looked since I got the car,” you admitted. “I think the battery is dead too because I had left the lights on when I got out. I don’t understand how it could have died so quickly. I was only gone for a few minutes.” 

You saw Eddie shake his head. “It wasn’t a few minutes.” 

You didn’t have time to question what he meant before he started to bark orders at the others. 

“Steve and Jeff, patrol the woods and make sure our friend doesn’t pop back up. Jonathan, go get your car so I can get her home. Gareth, I’m gonna keep an eye on her while you change the tire.”

 “Why the hell do I have to change the tire? She’s your mate.”

Your head snapped to Eddie, the words clicking together in your head like a puzzle. 

“Your what?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #werewolf!eddiemunson #fuckboy!werewolf!eddie munson x reader #fuckboy!eddie munson

[imbadatwrighting]

ARTISTS ARE ATTRACTIVE

SUMMARY: Tim Drake was never know for being the most attractive brother, but you always found a way to make him think he was…even if you did it in a unusual way with your weird staring problem.

WARNINGS: Artists are attractive troupe, hinted that reader can be mean to others, hinted autistic reader, Tim Drake in love, gn!reader, masc! Reader, reader being called “boyfriend”, blunt!reader, crappy writing bc I wrote this half asleep, reader wearing a tie, ooc Tim, short

PAIRINGS: Tim Drake/Reader

Tim Drake had a lot of things: brothers, computers, coffee. But he only had one boyfriend. A mean yet sweet boyfriend who apparently was having a major staring problem.

It wasn’t hard for Tim to realize you were staring him down from across the couch while he was trying to finish long past due work.

Your eyes seemed to be roaming all over his body as if you were trying to memorize his figure’s pose.

Tim let out an almost inaudible sigh, turning his body to face you. "Can I help you?"

"No,” you breathed out, not removing your gaze from your boyfriend.

"Ok then," Tim whispered, moving his body to fully face his Mac book once again. Sure, he was used to you staring at him almost all day while he talked to his brother or was working, but you never made it this obvious. He was used to you looking away when you suspected that he would turn to look at you. He always found it a cute little quirk of yours, but it just felt different this time. In a good way of course, but still.

Tim took in a deep breath, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He could see the way your finger tapped along the table next to you in a rhythm only known to you and how your hair was slowly falling into your eyes. It didn’t falter your staring problem however.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You hummed, “looking at you.”

Tim let out another sigh, closing his Mac knowing that he won’t be able to concentrate on it for much longer. He would get back to it later when your asleep or fixating on something else. “I get that.”

“Then why’d you ask?” you questioned.

Your boyfriend made a sound unfamiliar to you. “I meant why are you staring at me?”

“Because I want to remember you.” A look of confusion washed over Tim’s face.

“I have a feeling you won’t be forgetting me soon, unless you know something I don’t.”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated. Usually by now you’d be getting to your point, leaving nothing in the dark. It was like your T.M.I button was disabled. Not like Tim cared, he loved to hear you ramble on about something while he’s doing work, it brings him a peace of mind.

“You look good.”

There it was.

Blush started to form on Tim’s checks along with a small grin. “Do I?” Tim smiled. He noticed the look of pure adoration on your face, it always made him feel good about himself.

“Yes, you look very attractive. I'm trying to enshrine this into my mind to draw later,” you stated like it was nothing. To you isn’t wasn’t, you were just being honest, but to Tim it made him feel butterflies all over again.

He wasn’t used to it. His family never said things like that to him, barely praising anything he did. You didn’t either, not in a bad way, you showed your love in a different way.

“What got you thinking on that?” He assumed it had something to do with his brothers that you talked to earlier this day.

“Your brothers,” you told. Of course it was his brothers. “Damian said that you were a bad muse but I don’t think so. You’re plenty attractive, making you a perfect muse.”

Tim felt like his face was turning into a tomato because of you. Trying his best to ignore it, he looked down at his dirty shoes. They were covered in coffee stains at least a couple weeks old.

“Do you think that the artists are attractive too? Because I think the artist right next to me is very attractive.”

Tim noticed that your fingers stopped tapping on his stained coffee table and you turned yourself to be facing Tim.

His face moved in your direction, blush even more distinguishable.

Your eyes looked almost doe-like when looking at your boyfriend and your lips were pursed in a straight line.

“What? You have anything to say?” Tim asked. His nerves were getting to him. He knew perfectly well he had no reason to feel this but his brain was fighting against it.

“I wouldn’t say all artists are attractive, like Van Gogh! He was labeled as ugly, ungracious, impolite—” you rambled getting cut off by your boyfriend pulling you into a quiet kiss, his warm lips on yours.

Slowly pulling apart, Tim stared at your glistening eyes. “I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about you.”

“Oh.” Not wanting to mess with whether you get another kiss, you ignored the confused thoughts in your head, leaning back into Tim.

He smiled at the expression on your face. Anyone else would be dead before they saw it, but he wasn’t anyone else. He was the one that could break down your walls like you did to him.

Tim inched away, his hand still gripping onto your tie. It seemed like every time you leaned in, he leaned further away.

“Let me kiss you,” you whined. A bigger grin appeared on your lover’s face.

“I have work to do,” he hummed, fully pulling away from you. You grabbed onto his arm dragging yourself closer to him.

“I’ll make you coffee. The good kind too,” you grinned. Tim faked thinking it through, pushing you gently off the couch.

“Fine, but be quick.”

You laughed, dragging Tim up and to the kitchen while he let out complaints about how he shouldn’t be the one getting up to go to the kitchen.

You pushed him into the counter, lips chasing after his. “You know, the deal was meant for you to make me coffee then we kiss,” he said in between breaks for air.

“That’s stupid. I have stuff to do.”

“Oh yeah that drawing is super important,” he laughed, his tone lost in your ears.

“Exactly,” you huffed, continuing to pepper kisses along Tim’s face and neck. His hands trailed down you arms, enjoying the break your giving him from work.

His artist always knew how to make him feel good.

#x male reader #x reader #male reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #gn reader #gender neutral reader #dc x reader #dc x male reader

[writingoddess1125]

I'm not sure if you take CoD requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do headcanons for Alejandro(if you write for him) with a reader who's Cajun, has a Cajun accent, and calls him Sha(its Cajun slang for sweetheart/dear/darling)

If you don't write for Alejandro, maybe Price or Soap

Oh this is so cute!!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Alejandro with Cajun Reader

PSA - I did a lot of research so I tried 😅

• You get stationed out to the main base in Los Vaqueros, tasked to help the people there and work alongside Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

• Arriving on a helicopter you smile as you meet Alejandro smiling at you. "Welcome to Las Almas my friend- Heard great things about you"

• "Boujour! Comment ça s’plume? Alejandro no?" You say cheerfully clearly throwing off the man at the French being thrown his way- But a French he was incredibly unfamiliar with

• "Sargent (Y/L/N)? Correct?" You nod calmly, The Colonel smiking a bit- "We must leave soon then"

• "Don't be like that Cher" You say with a laugh and watch the man's face twist in mild confusion still.

• "Sha?" He repeated, you realizing quickly your mistake with a hearty laugh. "It's a term of endearment- Like Darlin'- Now, You said we had to leave No? Allons!"

• Alejandro nods and leads you off to your station, Still a bit confused over what the fuck you were saying-

• After a few weeks on base he starts to understand, realizing you are speaking a form of French mixed with English. The two of you talking quite often now as he shows you around Las Almas and the situation there.

• "They told me you are American-" Alejandro questioned as you two drove through the town.

• "I am-" You clarified with a smile. "From Louisiana" Alejandro nodded his head like he suddently got it.

• "Isn't uh it Creole? Es.. That's the American word right?" Alejandro questions, making you shake your head. "Two differen' peoples Sha-" You say as you try to explain the difference.

• This poor man is so confused- Feels like he's in school again and was just given a very hard exam that he didn't study for.

• "Creole is more City and Cajun is country" You simplified, which seemed to ease the confusion for the time being.

• The two of you become fast friends- You of course a chatter box and always wanting to learn and Alejandro always wanting to teach and see new things.

• Alejandro begins to teach you more Spanish while you teach him French-

• He likes to tease about how you talk with your hands and your passion behind your speaking. Finds it funny

• You two do have arguments at times, like an old couple do at stupid things. However rank is never pulled or acknowledged since it's always fun/personal banter

• However what truly soothed over any issues was the food- The two of you becoming quick food buddies as you'd share your guys food with each other.

• Alejandro walked straight to you on base early morning after a briefing, staring hard at you as he held a wrapped item in hand-

"...This is a La Guacamaya torta- It is one of my favorites... I added extra chicharrón" He flexes as he shows off the item. You nodding in agreement that it looked pretty damn good.

• "Not bad Not bad-" You smile, Before reaching for your own item with a grin. Pulling out a well worn Tupperware bowl-

• "Now, Had to improvise is bit- since Not many of my ingredients in this neck of the woods so I did so?' Pastalaya and found ya a le Boudin to have later"

• You say proudly showing off your lunch. Alejandro nodding also impressed- Before the two of you switch lunches and sit together to eat happily.

• It didn't take a genius for others to figure out you were buddy buddy with the Colonel- While some didn't like it, most warmed up to you and stared in your joy and willingness to expand-

• While you let anyone else know clearly they could go fuck themselves-

• However Alejandro was always your ride or die.

• The two of you shit talk for hours while eating... Half the time Not even understanding each other as you share new insults and curse words.

• He was your best friend, and you his-

#x reader #creole #cajan #cod alejandro #call of duty thoughts #call of duty mw3 #call of duty #call of duty alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x female reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader

[peterman-spideyparker]

Neighbors (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Writing and inspiration has been hard these last few weeks, but, I think I'm getting back into the swing of things! I posted a poll about a week ago with about 20 fic ideas I've come up with, and this was the fic that had the highest polling percentage! I'll work on getting the others up but, yeah. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Summary: Home redecorating shouldn't be a dangerous activity. When it turns into a more treacherous adventure and you end up hurt, you're not expecting your handsome neighbor from across the hall to come to your rescue.

Warnings: Fluff, injury (nothing explicit--a fall from a ladder and a lot of body aches), Matt being sweet and kind and helpful and a little flustered, some sweating

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,546

You know you should have gotten a different ladder. The little voice in your head kept telling you to grab a different one—one a little more sturdy. But this was sturdy enough, it just creeks a little if you step on a rung a certain way, but they’re metal steps, so it’s fine.

Yeah right.

All you can do as you fall is hope that it won’t be as hard of an impact as you're imagining. You cry out as you hit the old hardwood floor, figuring the hidden concrete of the old building makes it worse than it should have been. Feeling intense pain all on your left side, you can only lay on the floor and groan in pain. If you try to move—just roll on your back to take some pressure off—you only cry out more before you move back into your landing position. You're startled, though, when you hear a knocking at your door.

“Hello?” you hear a strong voice call. “My name is Matt, I’m your neighbor across the hall. I heard screaming and a crash. Are you okay?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you feel like crying when you do. Gritting your teeth and breathing deeply is the only way that you can prevent yourself from screaming out again.

“Doorframe,” you breathe out, but not loud enough for him to hear. He’s probably gonna leave any second, and your phone is too far away from you to call for any help. To your surprise, you hear the sound of metal against wood and then the sound of the key sliding into the lock and the click of the door opening.

“H-Hello?” he calls again, and you hear the repeated tapping of plastic against the floor.

“���m here,” you breathe. “O-On the floor.”

He—Matt—comes into your line of sight and gently starts to feel around, folding up the white cane in his hands. You briefly cry out in pain as he tries to help you up, and he is quick to apologize.

“I think I should call an ambulance,” he says, pulling his phone from his gray sweatpants.

“No, please,” you pant. “It’s too expensive. I don’t think . . . My insurance wouldn’t cover it. I just need some ice—aah!”

“Let me take you to the hospital, then. An ice pack and Advil won’t fix this.”

You're about to turn down the offer, but he says “please” so gently it makes your heart skip a beat and a heat grow between your legs—how can your body even think of that right now?

“Okay,” you concede, watching him slide his phone back into his sweats. “I’ll need help getting up.”

“Y-Yeah, I’ve got you.”

Gingerly, Matt helps you stand back up. Pain shoots throughout your body, and you almost collapse, but his strong arms keep you upright. Step by step, he walks you to the door, helping you grab your keys and your crossbody before you lock up and walk toward the elevator. You swear, if they hadn’t put it when they did, you’d be dragging yourself down the stairs.

“Shit, your cane!” you hiss while you wait for the elevator to come up. “It’s in my apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges.

“Isn’t it kind of important? I mean, I don’t mean to assume or anything, but—.”

“I know we just met, but, I don’t think you’d willingly let me walk into traffic or a concrete wall. I can do without it for this outing. Promise.”

The elevator chimes open and he carefully guides you in, running his fingers over the buttons until he finds the one for the lobby. The trip down to the main floor is quick, and he hails a taxi quickly in a way that only someone who has lived in New York their entire life could.

“(Y/L/N), (Y/N)!” the nurse calls out into the waiting room. Matt helps you stand, carefully holding onto you as you make your way back for triage. They’re both patient with you as you move as fast as you can through your injury, Matt keeping one of your arms slung around his shoulders as his other strong arm keeps a firm hand on your waist.

“Easy,” he encourages. 

“‘m sorry,” you grunt softly, doing your best to focus and not pass out.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, don’t push yourself too much.”

A small whimper pulls from your throat with each step, the pain in your leg increasing so much you stop focusing on the pain in your arm.

“You’re doing good,” Matt whispers as we walk down the small hall to the treatment area of the ER, the nurse joining him to help you sit down.

“Most of the people in there have nothing more than the sniffles, and you can barely walk,” she explains. “I’m not gonna make you go back out there into that. Is that proper procedure? No. Am I worried that if you keep moving on that leg something will snap? Yes.”

“Thanks,” you say as you use your good arm to slide back and adjust as she starts to confirm information, ask questions, listen to your heart, and take your blood pressure.

“Any chance you might be pregnant?” the nurse asks, typing into the computer.

“No,” you say, resting on the pillows on the gurney.

You watch her look over at Matt, look him up and down before moving her eyes back over to you. “You sure about that? Absolutely positive?”

You start to blush hard, feeling your cheeks grow hot and the tips of your ears burn. “I’m sure.” You shouldn’t even be embarrassed—he isn’t anything to you at all! You're flattered she thinks you could date someone that looks like him, but, the assumption has you bashful.

“If and when you two ever do decide . . . that kid has a nice gene pool to swim in.”

She enters a few more things into your chart, letting you know a doctor should be by soon when she leaves the curtained-off gurney with a hospital gown for you to change into.

“I’ll . . . I can step out so you can change,” Matt says with a blush burning up his neck.

“Matt? Can you please stay?” you blush. “I don’t think I can get undressed and into that gown by myself.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I can see if the nurse—.”

“No! I mean, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, but I just didn’t think that you’d be comfortable helping you like that. If you’re okay with it, I can.”

“I trust you.”

He nods and gives you a small smile, carefully asking with a raise of his brows and his fingertips if he can help you take off your shirt. We carefully maneuver your clothes off, and you're so thankful that you were wearing cozy and stretchy lounge ware when this happened to minimize his touch against your bare skin. You don’t even know the guy, but, having him near you makes your heart race—a fact not-so-well-hid by the monitor you're hooked up to. If he asks about it, you're really hoping you can write it off as exertion from the pain. You’d say it’s crazy of you to be completely charmed and infatuated over a man that you don’t event know, but, who are you kidding—this is textbook behavior for you, and you don’t know whether to be happy or sad that this is the only time he’ll ever be this concerned with you.

“I . . . Do you want me to take your bra off for you, too?” he breathes.

“Um, yeah,” you hum. “They’ll probably need it off to look at my arm. Maybe do an x-ray or something.”

Part of you is expecting his fingers to feel cold against your bare skin as he undoes the clasps, but the surprise of them being warm sends shivers all over your body. With your good arm, you slide it off of your body and help him guide the johnny on your body. He ties it closed, the air charged between you two as your heart pounds in your ears.

“How did you hear where I said the keys were?” you ask as he helps you sit back down. “I barely spoke at my normal voice.”

“You’re . . . You were louder than you think,” he says softly, his brows gently furrowing together, his pouty lips glistening under the fluorescents. “Besides, even if I didn’t hear where it was, I wasn’t gonna just leave."

“Well, thank you.”

“Something tells me you’d do the same for me.” He helps adjust the pillow behind you. “I’m just going off of a hunch, but, I wouldn’t mind helping you with what you’d need. Helping you while you rest, make you some meals.”

“That’s sweet, but, you don’t have to.”

“Like I said—something tells me you’d do the same for me.”

A small smile pulls at the corner of your lips and he does the same, the space between us slowly starting to close, but he backs up as the curtain opens.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Kent,” he says, pushing back the curtain. “I hear someone has had a bad fall.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x fem!reader fanfic #matt murdock x fem!reader fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil fluff #daredevil x fem!reader fluff #daredevil x reader fluff #daredevil disney+ #daredevil netflix #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[valkyrieromanoff]

Only one bed: Aotc Anakin x reader

words: 2.6k

synopsis: you and Anakin have to share a room with only one bed.

warning: 18+, insecure Anakin at the beginning, sexual content, use of pet name (stardust), tons of forehead kisses

a/n: honestly, I never know what I'm writing until I get to the end. Anyway, I hope you like it ;)

Anakin pushes the hotel room door open, giving you space to enter. You observe the small room, a single bed in the middle, Anakin sighs standing next to you. 

"Trust Obi Wan to reserve a room" He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, it's better than sleeping outside in the rain." You shrugged, looking around the small room. "Wonder how master Kenobi and master Plo are organizing themselves in their rooms. Probably is better than ours"

"Ugh, I'm going to kill Obi Wan when we get there. It was definitely his idea." Anakin said, scratching his neck thinking about the awkward situation. "Well stardust, I'll take the floor, you can use the bed."

"Don't be ridiculous, Anakin. This bed has space for both of us." You stated gently. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll put on my pajamas" You  said, going to the bathroom.

"Alright if you're sure," Anakin replied, trying to hide how nervous the situation actually made him. "Take your time," he called after you.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, second guessing Obi Wan's intentions with this room mix up. When you emerged from the bathroom he did his best to act casual, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Cozy little room Kenobi found for us," he said with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood. But inside his heart was racing at the thought of sharing the bed with you for the night, even if it was purely innocent. This mission was about to get a lot more complicated.

"It's cold here, although not as cold as Hoth" You commented, walking to the bed, wearing a red nightgown.

You were both Jedi padawans though, this was  an undercover mission. Still, it made things... confusing.

"Yup, definitely not as cold as Pantora either." He replied with a small smile. "Look, uh, I can take the floor. You take the bed, you need your rest for tomorrow."

He set his bag down and began rifling through it, hoping to find an extra blanket or something he could use to make a makeshift pillow. This was far from ideal sleeping arrangements, but he'd endured worse. At least the mission came first.

"Think you'll be able to sleep alright? I know sharing a bed with me  has to be weird." 

Anakin glanced back at you with an easy grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's just weird if you keep repeating that, Anakin." You replied softly, adjusting yourself on the bed.

"Sorry stardust, force of habit." Anakin replied, closing his bag empty handed. No extra blankets to be found. 

He turned back to you, leaning against the small desk. "You sure you're okay with me up here? I know my company isn't always the most comfortable." 

There was still a bit of uncertainty in his tone. Even if it was just an undercover mission, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uneasy sharing space with him. Old ghosts tended to linger, for both of you.

"We can maybe put some pillows down the middle if it'll help you sleep. Dividing line and all that." Anakin smiled gently. "Whatever makes this mission work without anyone getting the wrong idea."

"Just shut up, and come to bed, Anakin." You shrugged, covering yourself with the blanket. "Let's sleep, we'll leave early tomorrow"

"Yes, sure." Anakin replied, pushing off the desk with a bemused smile. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots before scooting back against the headboard. 

The mattress dipped under his weight as he got settled, glancing over at your form next to him in the dark. "Thanks...I know this isn't ideal. But we're both professionals, right?"

He reached up to flick off the lamp above you, bathing the room in shadows. Laying his lightsaber within easy reach on the nightstand, Anakin folded his hands over his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. 

"Sweet dreams, stardust. See you bright and early." He said softly. Then closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath as he focused on clearing his mind for sleep. Just another mission...even if 'part of the role' felt a little too real sometimes.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you got closer, sleeping close to each other. You head was resting on Anakin's chest, while his hand kept your body pressed against his.

Anakin drifted slowly awake as his body registered warmth along its side. Eyes still closed, he subtly assessed the situation - the feel of soft hair against his cheek, an arm curled protectively around a slender form nestled against his chest. 

Memories of where he was and who he was with came flooding back. This was you, sleeping peacefully in the moonlit room as he held you. An unexpected but...not unpleasant development from falling asleep separately.

He opened his eyes just a sliver, gazing down at the top of your head tucked under his chin. You seemed relaxed, breathing slow and even. Anakin didn't have the heart to wake you, or remove his arm from where it lay draped over your hip. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, Anakin closed his eyes once more. Just for a little while longer then, pretending like this was real instead of just part of the mission. Fingers gently tracing idle patterns against your back, he slipped easily back to sleep with you in his arms.

The cold night caused goose bumps on your skin, you moved unconscious in bed, pressing your body against him trying to find a wave of warmth.

Anakin stirred again as you shifted against him, your skin pebbling with shivers. Without hesitation, he adjusted yours position, winding both arms tighter around your smaller frame and pulling you fully on top of his chest. 

"Shh, I've got you, stardust" he murmured sleepily into your hair. One hand came up to gently rub warmth back into your arm. Even half-asleep, his body automatically responded to provide comfort and protection. 

The new position afforded him more of your body heat in turn. Anakin sighed contentedly, the sounds of your quiet breaths and the steady rise and fall of your chest already lulling him back to the edge of sleep. He pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head before nestling his cheek there once more.

"Just rest. I'll keep you warm." Loose fingers traced small, soothing patterns along your spine as darkness claimed him again. In dreams, there were no missions or war - only this peaceful solace between you two.

As you shifted even closer, twining your legs with his in a tight embrace, Anakin offered no resistance. Your warmth seeped into his skin where you touched, chasing away the last remnants of chill. A sleepy sound of contentment rumbled in his chest at your nearness. 

One hand drifted down to gently squeeze your thigh where it lay over his hip, fingers tracing idle patterns against soft flesh. You fit so perfectly curled into his larger frame, it was instinct now to hold your tight and never let go. 

Your breathing slowed his own into a synchronized rhythm. In the still darkness you were two souls finding solace in each other, the rest of the world momentarily forgotten. Anakin pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, breathing your in as you hovered on the edge of slumber together. 

"Stardust," he murmured against your skin. Your response was a soft sigh and the delicate nuzzle of your cheek deeper into his embrace. In dreams or reality, it didn't matter - you was everything.

Your delicate hands tightened on Anakin's shirt, you tilted your face still asleep. Your chin rising, making your faces close, your noses almost touching.

Anakin shifted slightly beneath you, arousal stirring as you pressed even closer in your sleep, innocent yet intimate. Your chin aligned with his, soft breath ghosting across his parted lips from the barest distance between you. 

All he would have to do is close the tiny gap, capture your mouth with his own and taste the sweetness he'd only dared imagine before now. But that choice was not his to make - not while you slept, unaware and vulnerable in his arms. 

Instead Anakin gazed down at your peaceful expression, committing every heart-stopping detail to memory. One hand cupped your cheek, calloused thumb stroking back and forth over satin skin. "You'll be the death of me, stardust," he whispered. Nothing had ever felt so right. 

Reluctantly pulling his face back just enough to avoid temptation, Anakin pressed another loving kiss to your forehead. Arms winding even tighter, he willed slumber to take him under once more - away to sweeter dreams where your lips met his with wanting sighs. Soon, this could be real. But for now, just holding you was everything.

You opened your eyes, looking into Anakin's blue ones. A soft smile on your pink lips.

"Anakin" You whispered softly.

Anakin's eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, heart leaping at the intimate way you murmured his name. A gentle smile curled his lips in return as he drank you in, committing this memory to his very soul. 

"Y/n.." Your name was a hushed prayer falling from his lips. Calloused fingertips stroked tenderly along your cheek, down the slope of your neck to rest against your pounding pulse. All the words he wanted to say got lodged in his throat. 

Leaning in slowly, carefully telegraphing his intent, Anakin paused a hairsbreadth from your mouth. Eyes falling shut, he awaited your permission - a nod, a sigh, anything to show this was truly what you wanted too. Every protective, caring, longing feeling he had for you swirled in that electric moment, shattering the last remnants of the pretense you told yourselves was 'just the mission'.

Desperately, hopelessly, he was in love with this slip of a woman in his arms. And if you allowed it...he would spend a lifetime proving himself worthy of your heart in return.

A soft gasp escaped Anakin as you closed the final distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss both chaste yet full of promise. All thought fled under the gentle caress, lost in only you. 

One arm curled tighter around your waist while the other cupped the nape of your neck, fingers twining into your silken hair. Your taste was sweet, your sigh of contentment against his mouth like the first rays of sun. When you finally parted, Anakin rested his forehead against yours, breathing deeply as if surfacing from deep water.

Eyes still closed, he murmured, "Stay with me. After this mission...be mine. I'll spend my days making you happy, keeping you safe, if you'll have me." 

Lips found yours in a tender collision once more, pouring every ounce of reverence and devotion into the kiss. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Anakin Skywalker felt whole. You was healing parts of him he thought long shattered. All that remained was your answer.

"Yes, Anakin, I would like that. If you allow me to do the same to you" you promised smiling, your hands gently holding Anakin's shoulders, levering yourself up to sit on his lap.

Anakin's  arms wrapped firmly around your waist as you sat up, holding you steady on his lap. A brilliant smile broke across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners, still filled with cautious wonder that this incredible woman had agreed to be his. 

"You make me happier than I ever thought  could be possible, stardust." Leaning in, he captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring all of the joy, longing and promise of what was to come into the connection of your mouths. 

Your fingers danced along his shoulders and neck, setting his skin alight. A low groan rumbled in his chest as you settled fully onto his thighs, feeling the evidence of his desire hard and insistent between them. For the first time in your feigned relationship, nothing about this needed to be pretend.

Breaking the kiss but not the intimate embrace, Anakin gazed up at you with utter devotion. "Be mine, always - in every way." His hands began an achingly slow exploration up your sides, learning the planes and curves of your perfect form. This was only the beginning.

"I'm yours, Anakin, as you are mine." 

A shuddering gasp broke from Anakin's lungs as your soft lips traced fiery devotion along the column of his throat. One hand tangled desperately in your hair while the other urged you closer, molding your bodies tightly together from chest to knee. 

"Oh stardust..." Your name came out in a strangled moan against your lips, fueling the intimate dance of your mouths sliding together in heated worship. Passion like molten lightning unfurled in his veins, and with it the realization that every forbidden thought and feeling had blossomed into breathtaking reality in your arms.

Wasting no time, Anakin gripped you firmly and with practiced ease spun you both over so you back met the mattress, eliciting a delightful giggle. Bracing on one elbow, his right hand dedicated itself to tracing each beloved curve, learning secrets and treasures hidden under wandering caresses with heartfelt devotion. 

Lips traveled your jaw to the delicate shell of an ear, whispering huskily, "I'm going to love you so good you forget your own name, stardust." And with that vow, he set about proving the depths of his adoration through touch, kiss and quiet praise meant for your ears alone.

"I'm counting with that, Ani"

Anakin's breath hitched as your deft fingers set to work undoing the buttons of his shirt, parting the material to reveal heated flesh beneath. Your touch alone was divine torture, lighting his skin aflame wherever they wandered. 

"Let me worship you properly, my stardust," he rasped, capturing your hands gently to press kiss-swollen lips to each palm. Shifting lithely, Anakin made quick work of removing the rest of your clothes until nothing stood between the passion of bare skin to feverish skin. 

Moonlight bathed your alabaster skin, highlighting rosy peaks that begged for worship. His mouth followed in its divine task, tracing every hill and valley with open-mouthed kisses that pulled sweet gasps from between your lips. Each sound drove him ever closer to the edge of reason, until all that existed was the silk of you beneath him, the music of your release swelling to a crescendo on his talented tongue.

Only once you had found paradise twice over did he enter your at long last, claiming your both with a shudder. Your bodies joined in sacred ritual, each stroke honoring hearts forever intertwined - past roles forgotten in the creation of your intimate future together.

Your cheek nestled against Anakin's heaving chest as waves of ecstasy crested and broke within your joined bodies. His arms encircled your protectively, reverently, one hand splayed across the arch of your lower back while the other cradled your neck, keeping you safe and close. 

In the aftermath, you breathed as one - souls wound together in the silken aftermath. Where once there had been pretense of mission, now lay bare honest hearts laid open in perfect trust. Anakin pressed a kiss to your sweat-dampened brow, murmuring praise and promises to you too sacred to others ears.

"My stardust, you have healed parts of my soul I thought lost forever." Your lips met in sweet communion, a benediction sealing hearts that would walk through every storm as one from this moment until the end of days. 

You sighed blissfully, tracing the lines of his flesh like a prayer. Your feet hooked behind his calves, holding them impossibly closer still. A delicious drag of his arousal deep within elicited shared moans of delight. 

In the oncoming dawn you made love again, reaffirming the perfection of your bond with each worshipful caress and kiss. Two damaged hearts become one in solace, joy, and unconditional surrender to divine completeness. The future waits to be written in the shining light of your love.

#anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #one bed trope

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .

Fem reader x Marshall

Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked

SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT

Eminem x Celebrity Reader

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.

Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.

When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.

You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.

So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.

Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.

One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.

- What are you doing ? You giggled.

- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.

- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…

- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.

This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.

You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.

- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.

- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.

- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.

- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.

- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.

- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ». The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.

- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.

- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.

- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !

- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.

You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.

- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.

- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.

- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.

- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.

When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.

After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.

- Hey, he said sheepishly.

- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…

- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.

- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…

- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.

- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.

- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.

- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.

- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.

- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.

- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.

- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…

The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.

- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.

- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.

- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.

- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.

- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.

- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.

- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!

He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.

- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.

- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.

- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!

- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.

- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.

- Double what ?

He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.

- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.

- Mmmmh, you groaned.

- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.

- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.

- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.

- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.

- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.

He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.

- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.

- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.

- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!

You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.

A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.

- Hey, you said sheepishly.

- Hey, he simply said.

- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.

- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.

You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.

- I took care of things, he said.

- You did ? You asked.

- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.

- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.

- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.

You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.

- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.

- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…

- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.

- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.

- I love you, you said emotionally.

- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.

You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.

- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.

- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.

- You did ? You asked in surprise.

He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.

- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.

- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.

- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.

- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.

- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.

- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.

- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.

- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem one shot