#Edward will cry if you catch him doing something that is not quite right from the point of view of morality or the law | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashwhowrites · 1 year

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Bratty Eddie's ex

Half of it is proofread. I'll do it later

Angst to smut to fluff

"Okay so remember we need to leave once I say because I have that important meeting tomorrow morning then we have to meet the realtor for the house, you cannot be late, got it?"

"Okay" Eddie said smiling, watching as she zipped up his jacket and pecked his lips

"alright let's go"

The couple raced out of their small trailer and out to their car. Heading to the party they were invited to.

It didn't take long for Eddie to get tipsy, dancing in the middle of the living room. Not quite sure where his girlfriend was at the moment.

"Eddie Munson?" Eddie's ears perked up when he heard his name, turning around. Eyes bulging out of his head as he saw his ex from years ago

"holy shit! Jess" He laughed, throwing his arms around her and she hugged him. Jess was his ex from before he met Y/N. The last woman he was ever his old self with. Back when he was dominant, controlling and mean.

"wow! I can't believe I ran into you. How have you been?" She asked over the music

"so good! I have a girlfriend and we are looking at a house tomorrow together! How are you?" He explained happily. He was excited about his future with Y/N. Living in a new home together, making a house their own.

"that's amazing. Good for you. I'm doing well" she smiled, a hand landing on his arm as she congratulated him.

"Eddie hey! Are you ready to go?" Y/N came out of nowhere. Eyes glaring at the girls hand on Eddie's arm.

"I'm actually catching up with an old friend right now. Can we stay a tad bit longer?" He asked, puppy eyes asking her softly

"actually ex-girlfriend" Jess said with a smirk, she didn't enjoy the way Eddie's new girlfriend was drop dead gorgeous.

"oh ex girlfriend? That's....great. I wish we could but it's already late. Maybe another time" Y/N said sharply. Throwing Eddie a look, it was time to leave now. But his eyes looked so soft and pleading.

"five minutes" she snapped, walking off to the car.

"Is she always controlling like that? The Eddie I knew didn't ever take demands from a girl. That would totally take a jab at his manhood" Jess laughed. Eddie felt himself growing uncomfortable. He knew his girlfriend was pissed but he also felt like Jess was right. He was a man and he was in charge of himself. Y/N did tend to control him a lot, but he knew she only did because he liked it. But did a part of him miss being the one in charge? Being the one who told how it was and forced women to comply with his demands?

"I'll be right back" he said to Jess. Downing the rest of his drink as he walked out to the car. The alcohol in his system was definitely a factor for the dumbest decision he was about to make

"are you ready?" She asked, unlocking the car

"I want to stay" he said. Standing his ground

"Eddie, we can't. It's already midnight and I have to be up at 7 for my meeting and you need to be ready by 8:30" she explained. She already had this conversation with him before they even left.

"I don't care. I want to stay. I don't need your permission. I can take care of myself and make my own decisions. I am capable of doing shit without you. I'm letting you know that I'm staying" he said as strongly as he could. Crossing his arms as he looked down at her

"Knock it off. Get in the car Eddie" she snapped. She was slowly losing her temper. She didn't have time for his attitude.

"Y/N, I said I am staying. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Jess can bring me home" he growled back. His eyes squinting at her

For once in their relationship Eddie saw something in her change. Watching as her body deflated and her eyes cracking. Was she....was she upset? Her anger faded, he could see her eyes getting wet. Was she going to cry? Fuck, she doesn't cry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"consider me told, have fun then Edward" she said, voice cracking as she got in the car, not looking back as she drove home

Edward? She never calls him Edward. He felt his throat close up. He made her upset. He's never once made her upset. Mad? Definitely. Annoyed? All the time. But actually upset and hurting her feelings? He's never done that.

"don't fucking cry" she whispered to herself. Slamming the car door as she walked into the trailer.

He's never once called her by her first name since they first started dating. But hearing him call her by her first name while his ex-girlfriend sat in the party waiting for him to come back hurt her way more than she would have liked to admit. A fling from the past shows up and suddenly she's just Y/N? She usually never gets upset about these things. She knew Eddie loved her and the trust they had was unbreakable. She didn't care that he wanted to stay, it was the fact he demanded it all because Jess was there. Her Eddie loved being submissive and not making his own decisions. He liked to be taken care of, he didn't have it as a child and she was trying to pick up the pieces. He was dominant before her, she knew that. She had a feeling Jess reminded him back to when he was in charge of everything. Did he miss it? Did he actually not enjoy having her as his mommy anymore? Was she actually controlling and demanding? She just tried to look out for him but maybe she's doing it in the wrong way?

A new feeling of insecurity was filling her as she changed into her pajamas. She pulled away the blankets, getting her side ready as she moved to Eddie's side. Preparing to prep his side for bed but stopped. He wanted to take care of himself? Fine. She fixed his side neatly, crawling to her side and cuddling under the covers. Making sure her back was to his side. She didn't want the reminder that he wasn't home.

Eddie was definitely even more drunk when Jess dropped him off. Hanging his head as he saw the trailer coming up

"I think I made her sad" he admitted, a pout on his lips as he unbuckled his seatbelt

"who cares? You are Eddie Munson. You loved making girls cry remember?" She laughed

"that's not me anymore. She....she changed me for the better. I love her and I hurt her feelings" he was disappointed in himself.

"look Eddie, you are a grown up. You don't need mommy to tell you when to go to bed and have a curfew" she mocked. But Eddie hated the way it made him feel. She wasn't "mommy" because she controlled everything. She was "mommy" because she loved him unconditionally. She loved him through his abuse, trauma, temper tantrums, and everything else that made him so fucked up. And he basically told her he didn't need her.

"you don't get it" he said sadly, even more disappointed in himself for staying with an ex when he knew he should have gone home. He could be in her arms, sleeping and dreaming of her. Not sitting in his ex's car as she talked down on his relationship.

He removed himself from her car, walking into the silent house. Not a single light on, that was weird. She always left the kitchen light on for him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Quietly removing his shoes. His eyes catching the clock on the microwave

2:30

Shit, he thought to himself. He slowly walked into the bedroom, another dark and silent room. He switched on the lamp, seeing her sleeping body cuddled into the blankets. Her back facing him. He noticed his side of the bed was spotless, not pulled, waiting for his arrival. His sad eyes looked from her to the bed and back to her, was he even welcomed to sleep here? He changed into new boxers and pulled the sheets, crawling beside her. Hesitantly moving himself closer. Touching her shoulder as he traced his palm down her arm and around her waist.

"mommy?" He squeaked out softly. A tiny bit of hope that she was awake.

He sighed to himself as he got no answer. Kissing her shoulder softly as he closed his eyes.

Y/N woke up to her alarm blaring. Smashing it off, pissed that she couldn't sleep off her attitude. She looked over and saw Eddie snoring beside her. His adorable face shoved in his pillow, and his hand inches away from where her body was. She tore her eyes away and got herself ready for work.

Not bothering to wake him up and went out the door.

Eddie groaned as he felt his head start to pound. Rolling over to search for his girlfriends body. Frowning when he didn't feel her. He rubbed his eyes as he blinked to the now bright room. Her side of the bed was made, her pajamas folded on her pillow. He sat up and looked around the room. Feeling the need to throw up, he raced to their bathroom. Puking out everything in his body from the night before.

"BABY?" he screamed, holding his hair back as he puked harder. She always helped him when he was hungover. Tying his hair back as she rubbed his back. Puking made him panic. And she somehow always knew how to calm him down.

He sniffled as he heard no response. Reminding himself he was okay. Flushing the toilet and moving to the sink to brush his teeth. He spit out his toothpaste and took out medicine from the cabinet. Sticking his mouth under the faucet to swallow the pills.

He held his head as he moved into the kitchen, his eyes looking at the clock

9:00

"SHIT" he panicked, running into the bedroom. Throwing on any clean clothes he could find. He was late, she was going to kill him.

He raced to his car, throwing it in drive as he sped to the house. His head was still pounding as he got out of the car. Racing into the house

"so the bedroom and bathroom are connected right?"

He sighed in relief hearing her voice. He coughed as he walked up to them.

"I'm so sorry I'm late" he apologized to the realtor, but mostly he meant it for her. He hated that she refused to look at him. His hand slowly moved to grasp hers. Flinching as she crossed her arms the second she felt his hand. He swallowed another lump in his throat. Following behind silently as she talked with the realtor, touring the small house.

He followed behind her as they drove back to their trailer. Quickly getting out as she walked to the front door

"can we talk?" He asked, walking in behind her

"about what?" She said nonchalantly. Sitting on the couch as she turned on the tv

"last night?"

"nothing to talk about Eddie. You wanted to stay and I wanted to leave. That's that" she said, a bitter smile

"are you...mad?" He asked, sitting next to her

"nope" her eyes glued to the tv

He sighed and turned it off, but her eyes never moved to him

"are you sad?"

"I don't get sad" she snapped, arms crossing over her chest

"did I hurt your feelings?" He tried again

"no Eddie. I don't give a shit okay? Drop it" she growled, walking to their bedroom and slamming the door.

She wasn't used to her chest hurting when she looked at him. She didn't know why it seemed to hurt so fucking bad. She thought he enjoyed their dynamic, that he liked how she was so different compared to his past relationships. But maybe they've been doing too long. And he didn't like it anymore.

Eddie stared at the door. Heart pounding. He hasn't been in this position before. He has never seen her so stuck in her own head. Usually he's the one upset and she makes it better with soft touches and a gentle kiss. But he can't even touch her without her flinching away. He honestly didn't think there was anything in the world that could break her down. And he never thought he'd be the one thing.

He knocked worriedly on the door

"I'm getting scared. Please talk to me. I just don't know what to do" he pouted, refusing to stop knocking until she opened the damn door

"figure it out Eddie. Apparently you know what's best for you and can make your own decisions" he flinched at her harsh tone.

Eddie thought long and hard of a plan. Whenever she was mad at him, she'd punish him and they'd be fine. Maybe he needed to beg for a punishment. Help her get the anger out of her system

Around dinner she came out. Cooking silently as she stared at the water boiling

"Eddie, can you grab the sauce from the cabinet?" She asked, her eyes not moving away from the pot

"your legs work" he smirked. Waiting patiently to see how she would react. His smirk fell the second she sighed, moving quietly to the cabinet and grabbing the sauce.

"Eddie can you clean your dish please?" She asked, her eyes looking down at the dirty plate she was scrubbing

"make me" he snapped. Praying she'd turn around with the familiar fire in her eyes.

But just like earlier, she sighed to herself and grabbed his plate off the table, throwing it in the sink as she cleaned it, no words.

"can..can you help me?" He asked shyly, looking up at her as he fixed the broken tile in their bathroom

"thought you could do shit without me" she snapped

Walking past him and back into the bedroom

Yep, he definitely fucked up

Just like the night before he found his side of the bed untouched

He watched as she got undressed. Staring at her naked skin as she threw on her pajamas.

Maybe he just needed to ask?

"mommy, can...can we....have sex?" He squeaked out, nervously biting his lip as he watched her lay down. Stripping his own self down to his boxers

"you can take care of yourself remember" turning her back to him again as she closed her eyes.

He couldn't handle another night with her being so mad at him. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her on her back. Throwing himself on her lap. Trapping her arms under him as he trapped her underneath him

"I'm sorry okay? I don't like this. I don't know what you are thinking or feeling. I'm sorry for everything, for talking back, for staying with Jess" to be fair, he wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for but he felt like Jess was the main reason

"that's not what I need an apology for" he hated how weak her voice sounded. It was always so strong and confident

"what do you need it for? I will gladly beg for forgiveness. Please let me make this better" he begged. He could feel his eyes getting wet as she looked up at him. That distant look in her eyes

"are you happy with me?" He swore he could hear insecurity in her voice

"of course I am" he said instantly, "why would you ask that?"

"you....you called me Y/N for the first time in like two years. You never call me that. I'm not stupid Eddie, I know that Jess said something to make you snap on me. And I just....I felt like it made you realize you didn't like how we were. That you missed being on top and in charge of everything.... that you don't care for me to be your mommy anymore.... I don't feel good enough anymore Eddie okay? You obviously don't need me anymore and my work of putting you together is done. Fixed you up perfectly for other girls apparently. Tell me you hate how we work and tell me sober that you don't need me anymore so I can move on. Now get off of me" she snapped once she felt her eyes getting wet.

She refused to cry over this. She was confident and independent. If Eddie didn't want her anymore that's fine. She'll be gone in a blink of an eye. She didn't need him....she simply just really fucking wanted him.

Eddie could feel his own heart breaking as her eyes filled with tears. How fast her hard exterior was falling apart. Her arms flying as she squirmed underneath him, trying desperately to shove his body off of her

"no don't move on please don't" he cried, not bothering to hide the fact he was bursting into tears over this

"I love you. I only love you. I was stupid and drunk. I don't like being that old Eddie anymore. I love worshipping you. I need you, and I will always fucking need you. I'm sorry for saying stupid shit I didn't mean. I don't like taking care of myself. I love how we work. I love the way you punish me and ruin me. Test my limits and make me beg. I love that you are my mommy and take the best care of me. I've never felt this much love from anyone ever. You fix me more every day, but I'm fixing myself for you. I don't want anyone else. I don't want to learn to love anyone else. Those girls....i mean fuck they aren't even close to being half of the women you are. They let me treat them like shit, but you have no problem putting me in my place. That's what I need. I love you and I can't let you go. Let me fix this please. Let me show you how much I love you mommy " he sobbed above her

Her arms going weak as she watched him cry and babble over her

"Eddie stop crying" she demanded. She couldn't handle his puppy eyes filling with tears when she's supposed to be pissed at him

"I'm sorry" he repeated over and over, lips kissing her neck as he desperately grinded his body against hers. Kissing the same spot over and over as he whispered apologies

"I'm your good boy and that's all I want to be" he admitted, forehead pressing against hers. Letting his tears fall off of his chin and on her chest

She smiled weakly, wiping his tears

"you promise?" She asked weakly

"I promise mommy" he said strongly. No hint of hesitation

"well mommy thinks you need to be reminded how good you have it" her lips curled in a growl

Eddie felt his cock grow harder as the familiar fire burned through her eyes. The sad and distant look gone as she gripped his jaw

"remind me who I belong to, please" he begged, grinding his hips harder against her

She smirked and flipped them over, leaning back on her legs as she sat up. His body laying underneath her

"who's slut are you?" She demanded, her hand moving down his chest and into his boxers

"yours mommy. I'm your slut" he whined. A big sigh of relief when she took his cock out of his boxers

He waited for the usual praise that left her mouth when she would see his cock when she first pulled it out. But she didn't say a word, gripping his cock in a tight grip. Smiling as Eddie's body squirmed

"ow fuck" he whined. Gripping the sheets as she gripped him even harder.

"shut up" she snapped, moving down his body

Spitting on his cock as she jerked his head

"mommy that's so good" he moaned

"I said shut up" she growled, removing her hand from his cock

"I'm sorry. Please" he begged, watching as she walked away

She rolled her eyes, digging through their sex box for his butt plug, her strap, and her biggest dildo

She walked back to the bed, throwing the toys next to his head. His brown eyes looking over at the toys. Then moving back to her as he heard clothing hit the floor

Her naked body sitting near the end of his body

"I mean it. Shut the fuck up and do not speak unless I ask you too" she said, slapping his cock harshly

He bit his lip as he moaned. Choking back his sounds

He nodded fast, eyes begging to be touched

She took the butt plug, staring into his eyes as she took the plug in her mouth, sucking on the toy

"you want this in your asshole baby?" She teased

"yes please mommy" he begged

She smirked as she shoved it in, not bothering to be gentle

He whimpered as he bit his hand. Loving the way his ass felt full from the plug.

"tell me, was Jess one of the girls you made beg for your pathetic cock?" She asked harshly

"yes mommy" he admitted

"you fucked her rough and hard?" Her mouth spitting on his cock again

"fuck...yes" he moaned when she began to jerk his head again

"did you make her scream and cry?"

"yes mommy" he whimpered

"I wonder what she would think if she saw you. A plug up your pathetic ass, tears in your eyes. " She mocked, her tongue licking up his cock. Sucking on just the tip

"I don't care what she thinks" he groaned. Hands itching to push on her head

"why's that?" She asked curiously, jerking his cock roughly as she stared down at him

"fuck...Jesus" he groaned. Words not making it out of his mouth as she roughly jerked him off

"I...I..oh God" he squirmed

"I'm not hearing any answers"

"because I don't care about her. Just you mommy" He stuttered out

"you cared about her enough to question yourself" she added, angry eyes staring into his wet ones. Jerking him off even harder. Her grip was so tight she could barely move fast

"I'm sorry" he whimpered, puppy eyes looking down as she destroyed his cock with no care in the world. God he loved watching her hand fuck him.

"you will be" she threatened. Her hand only focusing on jerking his tip, making sure he was sensitive from the start

"mommy I can't...you need...not the tip the whole time" he choked out, clenching his teeth as his tiny hips squirmed against the mattress

"excuse me? I don't listen to my brat's demands", for that jerking the tip even harder. Rubbing the skin as she ignored the rest of his length

His hand raced down his body, trying to stop her hand from moving

"you better take away that hand right now" she growled "mommy decides when she's done playing with your cock, be a good boy and fucking take it or I'll stop completely"

"no no! Just please" he babbled out, yanking his hand away fast

If she only focused on his sensitive tip he was seconds away from having to beg to cum.

"fuck my hand you whore"

He whimpered as he slowly moved his hips against her hand. Going at his own pace to slow down the orgasm that was so close to boiling over. Bucking his hips in the air as his cock slid easily in the grip of her hand

"fucking pathetic. I know you can go way faster than that" she ignored his cries, going back to jerking him the fastest she could

Eddie couldn't handle it. Hips squirmed against the bed so bad his whole body was cowering away from her. Hands searching for the headboard to grip, he had no control to what left his mouth at this point. Painfully whimpering as he felt his balls tightening

"you need TO STOP, SHIT" he warned

"don't you dare fucking cum. Sit still and take it" she growled. He was thrashing so hard her grip was getting loose as he flipped his body to its side, taking a sigh of relief when her grip was lost

But in seconds his hips were slammed down, trapped underneath her body. She yanked off the rest of his boxers. Throwing the item somewhere around the room

"you are really testing me today" , a slap down across his right cheek had his toes curling

A loud whimper left his lips

"you want mommy to continue?" Her voice was soft and gentle, a huge contrast to the slap across his face

"yes just please slow?" She looked down at his puppy eyes

Getting close to his face, practically breathing in his breath for oxygen

"you'll take it exactly how I give it" she yanked his mouth open

Spitting directly on his tongue

Without question he swallowed it. Humming as he tasted her spit down his throat

"you will not cum tonight, do you understand me?"

"mommy I can't hold it all night" he admitted. He's never been able to. The second he's either being fucked by her in his ass or if she's riding his cock, he always needs to burst and cry.

"I don't give a shit. You'll do it" she ignored his protests, her hand moving down to his butt plug, pushing it in and out. Her thighs still locking him in place. His asshole clenched around the plug. Sucking the toy back in.

One of his hands moved closer to her chest, preparing to grip her right boob when she smacked his hand

"don't fucking touch"

"MOMMY" he whined pathetically at that. He can't cum, he can't touch her, and he has to sit still. Three things Eddie was never good at

"yeah cry out. Make our neighbors hear how much of a brat you are" she mocked, yanking the plug fully out of his ass, throwing it to the side as she reached for the dildo

"I know how to shut you up. Suck mommy's cock for a little bit"

Once again yanking his mouth open, watching as he stuck out his tongue. She smiled and placed the dildos tip flat on his tongue. Watching as his lips closed around it. Sucking it softly as he moaned

"your bratty mouth loves being filled with cock doesn't it?"

He nodded the best he could. Moaning as she slipped the toy deeper in his mouth, watching as drool made its way down his chin. She leaned forward, licking up the mess he was creating.

She kept it at a steady pace. Thrusting the toy in and out of his mouth. Loving the pop of his lips when he released it. The gagging when she pushed just a tad bit too far. The choking when she held it, forcing him to deep throat it. He tried to put on the best show he could. Keeping her distracted enough to realize he technically wasn't being touched anywhere. Giving him more time to recover from his almost orgasm.

After she made him choke three more times, she yanked out the toy. A line of spit following behind.

She tossed the toy to the side, shoving her own tongue down his throat. Giving him no second to catch fresh air before his throat was filled with something else. He moaned instantly. Letting her devour his mouth anyway she wanted. His hands clenching the headboard hard, nails digging into the wood as he tried to keep his hands off of her.

She made the kiss loud and wet. Grinding her hips against his soft stomach. Eddie felt his stomach clenching, feeling her wetness soak his happy trail and belly button

"oh God" he moaned into her mouth as she began to hump his stomach faster

She pulled away and slapped his cheek again

Throwing her head back as her nails dug into his chest, rubbing herself against his stomach

She moaned his name over and over as her fingers tweaked his nipples. Pinching, pulling, and twisting. Loving the way his bottom half kicked and squirmed

She slowed down her hips as she grabbed her strap, smirking down at Eddie's puppy eyes

"put it on" she spat, throwing it on his chest as she got off of him. Looking down at his soaked line of curls leading down to his cock. She rubbed her wetness further in the small patch of hair, loving how it all matted together

"wait me?" He choked out

"yeah. I want to be fucked so you are going to fuck me, but I want a real cock" she growled

"my cock is better than this!" He defended, sitting up as he held the strap

"put it on" she demanded again, ignoring his argument

"if you want to be fucked then I'll fuck you" he snapped, grabbing her ankles as he moved her down the bed

Throwing the strap across the room as far as he could

Spitting on her cunt and rubbing it in

"you think you are good enough to fuck me?" She teased

"I know I'm good" he countered back, yanking her legs apart as he pushed himself inside of her

Moaning instantly as his cock was tightly held by her. He had to focus on her, he had something to prove

"mommy you are so wet" he whined, laying his body down on hers. Holding himself lightly by his arms next to her head. Snapping his hips fast against hers. Immediately feeling her get tight around him. The moments he actually got to fuck her always made his body shake

"fuck I can feel how hard you are" she whined, her hands thrown around his neck as she moved her hips up to match him

He was desperately pounding into her. Sounds of their skin smacking bounced off their bedroom walls. Moans and whines, from both, filled the space between their bodies.

One thing she knew Eddie hated was when she didn't praise him when he was in her

She refused to let him have this

Clamping her mouth shut as he fucked her. She couldn't deny it, this was the best he's ever fucked her. His hips were smacking into hers so hard. His hip bones practically stabbed her. His patch of dark brown pubes were brushing against her clit and it was driving her insane. The feeling of his balls smacking her ass had her hands yanking his hair.

"come on, I know you want to moan for me" he growled, he used his left hand to hold himself up, his right hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to look at him

Staring into her eyes as he slowed down his hips. Pounding harshly one thrust at a time. He could feel her tits jolting with each thrust but he refused to break the eye contact. He made sure to give each thrust all he had. Making them as hard as he could. Making sure to go as deep as he could. Smirking as her eyes began to roll into the back of her head. Her jaw opening as she let out soundless moans

"come on mommy. Moan for me" he tried again, drilling her harder into the mattress

When she refused to make a sound, he grew more frustrated, sticking two fingers into his mouth then rubbing her clit.

"fuck" she said quietly

It was quiet but he'd take it. Rubbing her clit faster, going back to fast and rough thrusts. Refusing to stop. Clenching his eyes, making sure this didn't backfire on him. He couldn't cum either.

"mommy, come on" he grunted, sinking his teeth in her neck

She held clumps of his hair as she panted beneath him

"mommy please. Say something" he whined, smashing his forehead against hers. "tell me I'm doing good. Please mommy. I'm doing good right?"

She could hear the insecurity laced in his voice. The pleading behind his whines. His eyes were full of determination, his cock was hitting spots she never knew she had. She could practically feel him in her stomach. At the end of the day the man she was hopelessly in love with was begging for some type of reassurance that she was feeling good, and that broke her down.

"I'm close baby. You are doing so good. So fucking good. Mommy is so close to cumming. You going to make me cum?" Her heart beamed as his face lit up

"yeah I'm gonna make mamma cum" he moaned

Smiling as he kissed her lips. Rubbing her clit as fast as he could

"That's it. My fucking good boy" she moaned, her hand moving to his back, holding his ass as she shivered underneath him.

"cum mommy. Cum for your good boy"

"EDDIE GOD" she screamed, panting as her orgasm washed over her. Soaking his cock in her cum as she clawed at his ass

Eyes closed as she threw her head back

Missing the way Eddie smiled down at her, a proud look in his eyes. Watching every detail of her face as she came. The way her eyes shut, her neck thrown back, her nails scratching his ass, her tits being shoved against his chest. The way her mouth opened and small pants of air came through.

He slowly fucked her through it, slipping out of her slowly, hissing as he was still rock hard

"and you didn't even cum. I'm so fucking proud of you" she praised, leaning up to kiss him hard

He whined into her lips. Elbows on either side of her head as he kissed her deeper. One hand still on his ass, the other one cupping his jaw as she leaned up, easily slipping her tongue and moving it against his. He could feel precum leaking, panting as he pulled away.

"I'll never love anyone as much as I love you" he whispered, kissing her nose softly

"dammit. Don't be so cute" she teased, shoving his shoulder

"tell me you love me" he begged, his puppy eyes back in work

"I love you baby" she said, tugging him down against her chest. Rubbing his back as he sighed into her

"did you mean it about no cumming tonight?" He asked nervously

"sure did brat" she teased, smacking his ass as her other hand played with his hair

"mommy" he whined desperately

"not happening" she laughed, tickling his soft skin

"go to sleep and maybe I'll help you out tomorrow" she proposed

He nodded into her chest, trying to ignore that his throbbing cock was inches away from her cunt. A cunt that was still dripping on him.

Digging his face into her neck. Pecking the skin softly

"I'm sorry again for making you feel not good enough"

"it's okay bud. We're okay now" she smiled, kissing his sweaty head

His hand searching for the one in his hair, lacing it with his as he pressed their hands into his face, kissing her hand repeatedly

Sometimes she needed reassurance more than him. And he would never pass up the chance to remind her he was in love with her.

Tags!

@simping-over-boys-with-trauma @capricornrisingsstuff @somnialol @buginnettesstuff @thegemaqua @skyline4446 @bunnyweasley23

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming

@eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy

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breathing-the-same-air · 7 months

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For this week I'll be mentally at the end of season 2 after Ed and Stede reunited...

Warning: fanfic ahead. No real facts from the actual episode/teaser. Just my heart bleeding for them and needing some hope💔

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*Stede is standing on the deck of the Revenge in the evening, after an eventful day. Ed slowly approaches him*

Ed: 'I'm sorry. Maybe I did... Panick. Just a bit. I think. *Pauses for a moment, looking at the sea* ... But nothing that happened that night was a mistake.'

Stede: 'No, look, I'm sorry. You did ask me to take things slow. I just... Almost lost you, again, and I...'

Ed: 'I know. It's okay. I mean... I wanted it too. It kinda... Liked it, also. Quite a lot, if I'm honest.'

Stede *smiles*: 'So, what about your new fisherman's life?'

Ed: 'oh, shut up. Couldn't catch a fish in a million years'

Stede: 'Perhaps we could... *leans closer, still smiling* Learn together. Go live in a hut by the sea, just the two of us. Learn how to fish. Take the time to.... Take things slow and figure it out together.'

*Ed just stares at the ocean… not looking at him*

Stede: 'So, what do you say?'

Ed: 'You don't have to say that to make me happy, you know. You were right... That fish was... Whatever. And you love your pirate life, just look at how good you are at it. *Sighs* I don't think there's room for me in that life. I just... I'm sorry, Stede. But I can't come back to that.'

Stede *holds out a hand to touch Ed's*: 'Hey. I don't... I don't fucking care about a 'pirate's life'.' *Ed raises his eyebrows in mild amazement at the word* 'I was so lost. I was so sad. In my life as a married man. Then I left it all behind, looking for something new... And I thought it was just that, becoming a pirate, my dream of a lifetime! What I didn't know is... That what I had been searching for all along was you.' *Ed slightly turns his head to look at him. There is the light of tears in his eyes* 'I don't care where we go or how we live. I just want to do it with you. I want to be with you... For the rest of my life. If you want it too.'

*Ed is actually crying right now and not even trying to hide it. He smiles sadly as he cups Stede's face with his hand and looks at him adoringly for a long time, as if looking at a miracle he doesn't think he deserves, then kisses him slowly, softly, and Stede doesn't push for more this time, just follows his pace lovingly. Ed moves away, just enough to look at him in the eyes, and he looks absolutely scared and sad and hopeful at the same time*

Ed *in a whisper*: 'I love you, Stede Bonnet'

Stede *smiles, with tears in his eyes too*: 'I love you too, Edward Teach'

They kiss again and the scene zooms out and we see the sea behind them and the ship grows smaller.

Lights go out and next thing we know we are on the Revenge, the crew happily singing as they clean the deck. Their Captain, Izzy, also sings with them. Then he smiles up at the sky and at a seagull that's passing by.

The camera follows the seagull as it flies until it reaches an island, deserted except for a small hut close to the water and under the trees. It's such a beautiful place. The hut looks so nice it seems like a proper house. Kitchen, bathroom, a nice bed, and a big collection of books. We go out of the house and to a small boat that's sailing in the calm water of the sea. Behind the boat the sun is setting, lighting up the clouds with a wonderful orange and pink, and the birds fly up high, and the water is so welcoming and safe here. Soft music in the background, the same of their first kiss.

Then the sun goes down in a moment, like that instant when it seems it's been swallowed up by the water, and the Moon shily appears in the now slightly starry sky.

In the boat sit Ed and Stede, smiling at each other. Ed holds out his hand in between them and Stede takes it.

And here it is, the end, Ed and Stede on a boat with the Moon watching over them.

***

Except it's really not the end. There's so much more to explore in season 3, when after some years they did manage to figure things out together and someone from the Revenge crew comes to their island almost drowning, desperately asking for help. And they come back into action, except it's different now, as they both have grown and know who they want to be. As they both have the mission to spread kindness among pirates because as Stede always says, we should just talk things through as a crew. And there is so much softness and love in all the broken people who have chosen to undertake this path. We'll get fun adventures, somehow less dangerous this time, and two people who are now in a mature relationship and finally at their best individually.

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 10 months

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Not sure if there's a limit on requests but I would love to see the circus troup and Ciel, Edward and Alois getting a hand made blanket from their s/o. Crochet or quilting as I do both. Getting to make and give gifts like that is one of my favorite things to do!

aaaaa there's no limit on how many you can send! but I did only do Alois, Ciel, and Edward for this one, because even a reaction style like I did, the limit is ten characters haha. pls feel free to send in the same thing for the circus babes when requests open again!

super side note I'm also a crocheter and I totally get it~ I've made a couple hats for my boss and I'm working on my first blanket! (I'm a lil slow but XD)

Oh, it’s — wait, it’s for him?? They’re not just showing off their work to him? Honestly, he would have been fine and just as impressed with his S/O letting him fawn over it for a bit. But… it’s his. They made it for him. There’s not one single, solitary moment in his life that he’s felt like someone cared about him, and suddenly… he’s feeling that in abundance. Nobody’s done anything like this for him before. (Name) loves him enough that they actually made something, by themself, by hand, specifically so they could give it to him. As soon as he processes all of that, he might actually cry. He can’t believe someone (and someone he deeply loves) poured so much time and effort into something for him. Of course, he’ll try feverishly to play it off or act like it really isn’t a big deal. However, his S/O is probably going to sleep in the same bed as him, right? So they’ll get to see firsthand how much he loves it; he uses that blanket every night, cuddling up with them, drowsily thanking them, and mumbling that loves them. Who knows? Maybe he’ll have to learn how to make something like this for them in thanks! Until he does, he’s content to just enjoy it and share it with them.

Well, that’s a nice gift… he was thinking about getting something like that for them. They could always share it. Somehow, he completely misses the fact that they didn’t buy it, they made it. He just expects presents which are bought, because that’s what people usually give him. As impersonal as some of those things are, the last time he got anything handmade was… a very long time ago. So long ago that he doesn’t even remember what it was. So when his S/O tells him that this blanket is something that they made for him, he’s stunned. It’s not something he expected. He just… doesn’t quite understand at first? Why would they go to all that trouble, when they could just go out and buy a blanket? It’s not really that he’s missing the point. It simply catches him off guard. Then he thinks more about it. The fact that they spent hours, days, weeks, maybe months making it… they spent time and work on something for him. To him, time is more precious than money; meaning a gift like this means more to him than he particularly wants to show. He’s actually careful not to use it so much that he wears it out. This blanket is only for special occasions, only used for cuddling with (Name), when he’s sick, or when he’s incredibly emotional. It… makes him feel better.

Goodness, how lovely. Did they really make this? It looks like they put a lot of work into it! Even if it’s not perfect, he doesn’t really care about that. It’s perfect to him, because it’s something his darling (Name) created. Much like Ciel (and you’d be pulling teeth to get him to admit any similarities), Edward isn’t necessarily accustomed to receiving handmade gifts like this. Most of the things his family or past partners have given him are store-bought, which of course isn’t bad, but… it’s sort of flattering, that his S/O wanted to put a lot of their time into making something for him. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the same as someone baking a cake for him — they did it to make him happy, because they thought he’d like it, and they spent a lot of time on it. He admires it for a good long while, perhaps even being a bit silly and briefly wrapping himself up in it. Then he smiles as he stores it away in the bedroom, ready to be used. While it’s not one that he uses every night, he wants to use it since they made it for him. Maybe every other night? It was made to be used, after all. And it’s very comfortable. Perhaps if he keeps it in good condition, it will last for a long, long time.

#twilightlover2007 #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Alois #Ciel #Edward #reaction #romantic #fluff #domestic #UGH THIS IS SO SWEET I'M GONNA CRY #one hell of a queue

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Copper Beeches pt 3

I hope you are anxious to hear the conclusion of the case of ‘The Copper Beeches’.

Yes. Yes I am. Because while it's now pretty certain that the Rucastles are not part of a sex-trafficking ring, they're still really fucking creepy and now I also have to worry about the poor dog who is also being abused.

Family of serial killers, I swear.

"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?" "Yes, the wine-cellar."

...

😈😈😈😈

"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman."

Leeeeeeettle bit condescending there, Holmes. Although I feel like I am just more sensitive to that because modern perspective and experience. However, I do think think this section needs noting, if only because of all the people who are determined that Irene Adler is the only woman Holmes ever saw worthy of a compliment. Nothing against Irene, she's great, but Violet Hunter deserves better. She's been doing all the legwork herself this case, and she's made a pretty decent detective.

"If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely."

...

heh

heheheh

...

"Of course there is only one feasible explanation."

I still want to know what the other six possibilities were, Holmes. I want to know.

"Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also."

Miss Alice Rucastle is having the worst year. First she's sick so badly she has to cut her hair off. Then her father imprisons her in her own home. And on top of all of that her stepbrother is a serial killer in training. Worst. Year. Ever.

"The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

Really? That's the most serious point? Like, I agree it's not good. He's clearly showing signs of anti-social behaviour, aggression, and a worrying taste of having the power of life and death over other living beings, but I'm not sure I'd say that was the most urgent thing right now. I think getting Alice out is the most important thing. You can get him some serious therapy later.

"This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power."

Ah, okay, you're saying that it's serious because it indicates the level of danger involved. Sure, yeah, okay.

Can't disagree on this point. It's certainly not a good sign.

ALSO, one other thing that has been bugging me since part 2. Does the kid know where his half-sister is? Is he aware she's locked up? He can't be, right? Because there's no way he wouldn't have let something slip. But at the same time, he's just unaware of a whole ass person being imprisoned in his home? It's weird. He's weird.

Dear Little Edward the murderer in training is either oblivious or very good at keeping creepy secrets.

I'm not sure about the stepmother. On the one hand, the crying and the quiet indicate that she's also being abused. But on the other hand she was the one to catch Violet with the mirror and then use it to further the scheme. Although she didn't say 'she has a mirror', which would have made Mr Rucastle angry. That whole bit is weird. Was she trying to stop Violet from getting into more trouble, was she trying to save their scheme? I don't know. But then, if she's living with Rucastle and her darling son all day every day, she's probably been ground down pretty far.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug."

Suddenly there came a clanging As of someone wildly banging, banging at the cellar door.

And Mr Toller didn't even make it to bed? He's just passed out on the kitchen floor? He's lucky there's a rug in there and it's not just flagstones.

Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes's face clouded over.

Not a particularly good sign...

"Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty.

Breaking down doors! Love a bit of action with my mystery.

"Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it." "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away." "He has come back and done it."

But why would he climb up a ladder when he could just open the door?

I mean we know of the existence of at least one other person who would want Alice Rucastle out of that house and who wouldn't have a key to her room.

I'm just saying, Holmes.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter. "I have my revolver," said I.

Oh no... poor doggo.

Please don't kill the dog, Watson. Please.

We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Two days?! Two fucking days? Seriously.

But it kind of sounds like the doggo is getting revenge. Good boy. Good boy! You eat the bad man.

There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck.

Holy fuck this action escalated quickly. That is graphic and also... poor dog. I mean... I doubt it could have been rehabilitated at this point, but still. Poor thing never had a chance.

I do not remember this story being this brutal. Holy shit that guy's throat was ripped out.

Can't say I'm sorry. Glad the dog got its revenge before it died.

"Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."

I mean, you didn't exactly give her reason to trust you? Why on earth would she? This is the most ridiculous 'you should have talked to me' ever.

"If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too."

I mean, were you? Were you? Alice's friend, sure. But were you Violet's friend in all this?

"He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money."

It's Mary Sutherland all over again, just with more violence. Hey, Holmes. Holmes! You remember how you sent Mary Sutherland back into that life and didn't warn her about it? Huh? You remember that? Maybe thinking that wasn't such a good idea now? Huh? Are you?

I've had it with these men and their refusal to let their daughters have their own goddamn money.

"When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door."

I know this is like a common Victorian cause of illness and all that, but I'd be real suspicious about that brain fever, because it feels like poison is a real possibility rn.

"...that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be."

Good for him. Basic minimum achieved. I mean, also he's been trying to get her out of this house, so he's also gone above and beyond. I'm glad he and Alice got away in the end.

"But Mr Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his." "Mr Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs Toller serenely.

Oh, she did it for the money. Not such a good samaritan. But then if she were, she would have just smuggled the girl out.

Mr Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them.

I will admit I am sad the guy survived that. I'm not sure how he survived it. He had a mastiff's teeth 'buried in his throat'. He's insanely lucky his carotid wasn't torn open. But I suspect he doesn't do a lot of laughing anymore. So sad.

You couldn't have waited a little longer before shooting the poor dog, Watson? Let it get its revenge?

Also, that household sounds utterly terrible to live in still. Just a lot of horrible people being horrible to each other because they literally can't get away. And what about the child? What about dear little Edward? Is he still in there with them? I can't imagine that this made him less of a serial killer.

And the man doesn't get arrested for imprisoning his daughter?

Justice has not been served this day.

And that kid is going to grow up and kill a lot of people. I'm just saying. This isn't so much an ending as a 'to be continued'.

As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

Good for her.

Also, Watson, leave Holmes alone. He doesn't need a wife. He's fine. It is amusing to see that commentary, though. Like... there were 0 vibes of Holmes being into her. He complimented her a couple of times and was concerned for her safety. But he kept comparing her to a sister and there was no hint of romance in the whole thing. Watson is a bit delusional sometimes.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Copper Beeches #long post #animal death #Dear Little Edward probably ends up in an Agatha Christie #He'll probably murder his parents first #I suspect Mrs Toller will make a point to stay in his good graces #Really the sequel writes itself #So after Mr Rucastle has died of 'natural causes'#Alice's daughter comes to visit her Uncle Edward #who these days is doing a far better job of hiding his murderous desires #And it all goes from there #as Miss Marple looks on and worries

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poutpoutlilith · 5 months

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Dear @abihasablog,

Happy Festivus! Today's your @squealing-santa day. I'm so honored to have been assigned to you this year. Please enjoy this Steddyhands fic. Lee Stede, of course.

Also, please forgive my complete ineptitude with anything to do with *actually* using this website.

ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/52440493

Warning: Izzy describes some rather violent acts in conversation, but the acts never happen.

"A Dose of Reason"

Word Count: 3596

Word Count Fact: 3596 is not prime, nor is it square free. There is a unique non-cyclic Abelian group of order 3596.

“Hey, Ed, I wanted your opinion on something,” whined Stede in an abandoned attempt to catch his breath.

“Hmmn?” replied Edward, jingling his bell as he turned his neck to face the captain.

“It’s about Izzy. Was I too harsh on him?”

“What?”

“Our confrontation today. You must have overheard it down there.”

“I-”

“And?” asked Stede, his panic only growing.

“Is that what his yelling was? I couldn’t quite tell what he said to you.” Edward cracked his wrists and folded his hands, now fully turning his body to face Stede.

“I was more worried about what I said to him to set him off like that.”

“Well, for starters, I didn’t even hear it. Given the history of my leadership style, that should tell you everything I think about whatever it was you did.”

“Ed! I’m really upset right now. Words can hurt our feelings, even if spoken softly, remember?” Edward sighed in reluctant agreement.

“You know what? I’ll go have a chat with him.”

“Be subtle,” Stede requested through a shaky voice. Edward smiled back at him, figuring he was just being his usual self and overblowing whatever it was.

“I will. He’ll think I was concerned about his yelling, and he’ll think I was surprised to learn it was you that set him off.”

“You really mean that? You think you can pull it off?”

“I do. I’ll come and find you in about a half hour.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Mmn,” nodded Edward brightly as he made haste to go and find Izzy.

“The hell do you want?” Izzy groaned at Edward. He kept his gaze out and unfocused on the southern horizon. Edward only moved closer to him, eventually sitting next to him. “On with it or fuck right off! You know what? Why don’t you just do that and save us both the trouble.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t yelling a bigger storm than usual a little bit ago. I could almost make out what you were saying.”

“Fucking Bonnet! Fucking twat Bonnet!” sprayed Izzy in a coarse tone that somehow made every syllable irate and plosive. A small dribble of saliva landed on his chin, which he harshly brushed away with his knuckles in a closed fist.

“Captain got you pent up again?” Edward again pried.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and save us the trouble?” Izzy reiterated. Edward stood up in place but did not move, staring at Izzy to bait him into saying something, anything, he could take back to Stede. Eventually Izzy looked up and their eyes met. “Fine, if you’re gonna try and piss me off like this I might as well get pissed.”

“Go ahead, Izzy.”

“Fuck off!” he snapped. “Sometimes I just wanna get ahold of Bonnet and fucking destroy him. Fingers and teeth and blood everywhere. And then sew them back on and do it again. And again and again. Fucking twat! With his fucking feelings. And being right about everything. I ought to fucking kick him or something. Just to see him powerless and without some fucking retort. Hell, I’d even tickle the man if it made him cry.”

“What did he say?” Edward asked suddenly, attempting to mask how he perked up at that last sentence. He was on a mission from the captain, after all, and a secret one at that.

“He told me how I’m such a miserable twat. I mean, he didn’t say it like that. Gugh, I should have told him to fuck off!”

“You did, seven times,” Edward interrupted. Izzy chuckled a bit, but neither man could tell if it was at Edward’s comment or simply a component of the larger exasperated and very angry demeanor on display. Izzy continued, basically ignoring Edward.

“He just told me how I should remember it’s okay to talk about my feelings. How it’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. About how I’ve been through a lot. About how he cares. The fucking nerve on that fucking Bonnet! Laying it on thick like he’s got it all figured out. I wish he’d figure out how to send himself straight the fucking fuck to fucking hell!” Izzy stopped yelling and let himself sink all the way down onto the deck, staring up at the clouded sky.

“At least you recognize he’s right. Not to sound like I’m on his side or whatever, but maybe there’s a way to work through some of what you said.”

“But you do just sound just like the man. You’re fucking whipped, mate. You even wear a little kitty collar for him.”

“That’s not what that’s for and you know it! And so long as we both know he’s right, we might as well figure something out. I’m going to be honest, I think we should help you make Stede cry a little if that’s your thing.”

“Said like you’ve truly given up on yourself yet again,” Izzy snided. Edward sighed.

“I’m going to go talk to Stede to try and make anyone better during all of this. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fuck you, Edward,” said Izzy, “and thanks. Thanks a lot.” He sat up and faced the open ocean again, waiting for Edward to leave and go find Stede.

As Edward reentered the room, he found Stede in about the most awkward seating position imaginable. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, chipper from the clavicle up and a twitchy disaster everywhere below that. Stede snapped around to greet him wordlessly, straightening his posture and wincing in preparation to hear the worst. Edward knew better than to frame a conversation as anything other than what Stede wanted or expected.

“He said you laid it on pretty thick. He’s an absolute mess but deep down he understands why you are the way that you are. But he’s really mad about it.”

“That’s great! Maybe he’ll want to talk it through!” Edward only sighed at Stede’s optimism. It was cute. Futile against a berserking Izzy Hands, but very cute.

“Never, I’m afraid. At least not at first with this one. Listen, uhm, I need you to let him tickle you to tears so he doesn’t dismember you in your sleep or turn your teeth into flour.”

“Well, that’s quite an interesting analysis. He sounds very angry. Perhaps what he’s after is some casual discussion. A dose of reason, to quell his inner-”

“Reason, eh? Is that what you conspiring fucks want to call it?” spat Izzy from some nearby stairs.

“I was only trying to get him to take the tickling option so there’s less blood for me and the crew to clean up,” offered Edward in his own defense.

“Fuck the both of yous!”

“Izzy, try to understand what it is I’m seeking here,” pleaded Stede. Izzy only scoffed and advanced toward him. Stede backed himself against a shelf where Izzy towered beneath him. Stede would never turn the confrontation physical. And Izzy wasn’t about to just lay hands on the captain without any preamble.

“I don’t care what you want, Bonnet. This ship may be yours, but you are an idiot too weak to do anything but bend at the command of your fucking feelings. It makes me sick as hell. And I just wish I could show you the only feeling that matters in the pirate world. Helplessness. Suffering. The sharp and ruthless imbalance of power. Something a rich boy like you can never truly earn a worthwhile perspective on.” Stede winced at Izzy’s words, recoiling in his head as a haunting vision from his childhood took over. The spatter of blood. Everywhere that life has taken him from then on. Back to the present moment where his jaw gaped and he had no idea how to redirect Izzy’s anger with the power of words and heartfelt connection anymore. It felt too deep. Too real.

“You really want to show me how bad it’s supposed to hurt to be alive, don’t you, Mr. Hands?”

“For as long as it takes to shatter that flaccid and privileged skull of yours.”

“Don’t do this,” a sullen Edward suggested. Izzy saw the disappointment in his eyes. It got to him, which felt like a victory for Stede. That stung, and only angered him further. He tried his best to play it off, backing away from Stede and pacing about the immediate area.

“You should know I would never touch my Captain without permission to do so. Let alone all of that blood and guts stuff, tempting as it may be.”

“But you mentioned tickling, though, didn’t you? At least, Ed made it sound like you did. That might actually be quite fun. Edward loves to make me laugh. I’d imagine I’m very fun.”

“This isn’t about fun, Bonnet. It’s a matter of principle is all. But that explains why Ed shifted his posture at my little joke earlier. Fond memories of your intimacies or something?”

“Well, that’s,” started Ed, beet red and wishing he would wake up in Stede’s bed to spare himself the lasting reality of the sudden flash of embarrassment. He looked to Stede, as if beckoning for permission. That permission came with a nod. “Yeah,” he shrugged, hanging his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Stede came to his rescue.

“The truth is, I actually quite like it,” he confessed with a proud smile. His tone was flat and dull, but he at least managed a confident enough pull at the corners of his mouth that went well with the rosy complexion that was starting to take up residence in his cheeks.

“You fucking would, Bonnet. Of all people and of all things.” Izzy paused in his paces to turn and face Stede. He contemplated his next words carefully, adjusting his posture and tone accordingly before moving just a couple steps closer to Stede. “You know what? That actually sounds kind of cute. I’m still gonna make your kittenthing here help me make you cry, but what do we say we try and make peace by taking one out of both our playbook with a little tickle scene?”

“Right here?” Stede asked.

“And right now,” Izzy smirked. “What do you say?” Stede looked to Edward, who nodded him on.

“Alright,” shook Stede. “I guess we’ll go and make this happen, then.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” barked Izzy as he lunged at the captain, grabbing his sides and pressing him back into the shelf. “This business gets taken care of right here and right now. The cat either watches or joins me. Your call.”

“Please don’t make me watch, Stede, if you think you can handle it,” Edward said shyly.

“Of course you can join in, Ed,” Stede gushed, looking past Izzy. He then turned his attention back to Izzy. “Happy to be here for whatever you may need.”

“Happy fucking Bonnet, eh? That’s where your trouble began. That smile. That Bonnet fucking smile.”

“Would it be better if I frowned?” Stede demonstrated, and Izzy did not react. “Perhaps something more neutral, a bit stoic with hints of fear?” Stede tried on a second face, and Izzy had had enough of his antics. Wordlessly, he started tickling Stede hard and fast. Stede was far too distracted by his face making to see it coming. “I actually quite think my noseahahahaha! Ihihi g-guess-”

“What?” Izzy teased with a roar.

“Guess you wehent with a smihihile!” Stede screamed. He turned his neck to face away, not that it would really matter when his ribs and stomach were the center of attention and his eyes were bolted shut.

Izzy quickly made room for Edward, and with two men holding him there Stede was just about locked in place. He tried to sink to the floor, but Izzy and Edward only followed him there. He sat with legs outstretched and T-Rex arms barely positioning his elbows in self defense. He remained surprisingly still, a dead giveaway he was having a wonderful time, even if he was being quite fussy.

“He usually stay this still for you?” asked Izzy, adjusting his position to kneel on Stede’s leg and facing Edward more fully.

“Always. Deep down, it’s like he said. He really does love it.”

“All the noise he’s making you just almost couldn’t tell. Listen to him roar like a little bitch.”

“I know. Isn’t he cute?”

Izzy crowed a big belly laugh in reply to Edward’s question, turning back to his original position and moving his hands upward. He noticed Edward moving around the side of Stede, but didn’t try to intentionally take that into account. He was determined to figure Stede out on his own, and he didn’t want to get too distracted from eating up Stede’s reactions to make that happen. Stede was essentially a giggly puddle at the mercy of four spidering, digging, prodding, and clawing hands, and Izzy studied his every squirm and plea with devotion.

“Ohohohoho I’m actually the cutest!” exclaimed Stede, his smile only widening as he fell to the side away from Edward and started rolling away from the wall. He made his way onto his stomach without the necessary momentum to turn any further, so he stopped in place. Edward knelt between him and the wall, Izzy next to him on his other side. Stede shook his head from side to side but said nothing.

Wordlessly, Edward stared for Izzy’s attention, eventually locking eyes with him. They paused for a moment, letting Stede catch his breath. Motioning with his eyes, Edward got Izzy to focus his visual attention on Stede’s shoulders. Edward hovered a hand above Stede’s left shoulder and waited for Izzy to figure out what to do with his right. Bobbing their heads, they counted silently to three and started up again together.

“Wahahahait!” cried Stede. He kicked his legs and huffed and puffed until Edward and Izzy stopped again just a few seconds later. There was a brief silence.

“Stede?” Edward asked flatly. Stede pursed his lips but did not immediately say anything.

“Captain?” tried Izzy, being met with more silence.

“Stede, you need to tell us what’s wrong.”

“Oh, uhm, well,” the captain began. He pushed himself with a wrist onto his side and fell onto his back. His face looked its absolute reddest.

“Your face is red, Captain,” observed Izzy, “and we haven’t even done anything severe yet. You need to call it quits or something?”

“Well, no,” Stede admitted, “I’m actually fine. That was just so unexpectedly coordinated and sudden and intense. It was actually quite-”

“Do you want us to keep going?” Edward pressed, cutting him off.

“That would be splendid, thank you.”

“Arms out, then,” Izzy ordered. Stede obeyed. “And take it with pride,” he added. He leaned over and pinned Stede’s wrist with one of his own, putting plenty of weight on it. Edward mirrored him, and with Stede pinned beneath them both they started again.

Stede immediately closed his eyes and threw his head all the way back. Edward and Izzy paused at the thudding sound it made with the floor, but a sharply giggled okay from Stede had them resuming as quickly as the thud had dissipated. He laughed and strained his arms, but they would not budge from beneath those of his comrades.

“Damn ihihihit!” he squealed, “this is a mohohost unusual position to beheheehe in!”

“Mine too, be sure,” sighed Lucius. Izzy paid him no attention, but Edward looked up at him and cocked his gaze. Lowing his tone, Lucius spoke to Edward directly. “I’m just gonna,” he trailed off, shaking an open-palmed hand in the direction of the nearby stairs and shrinking his posture. With an ugly, forced smile he stepped over Stede and made himself gone, perhaps about to go tell someone what he saw. Perhaps not.

Edward turned back to Stede, who didn’t seem to notice the presence of his scribe. His eyes were still shut with a stupidly giddy smile spread across his entire face. Stede was really having a time with his two ticklers. Edward took his hands away for a moment. With his left hand, he caressed Stede’s cheek. Stede opened his eyes and looked at him.

“You’re doing so good right now,” Edward scruffed. Stede smiled.

“I think he can manage a little better for longer,” Izzy insinuated. Stede’s smile turned to fear, to panic, to arousal, and back to a bigger smile, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

“Only if he’s up to it.” Edward was firm.

“Please,” said Stede. His voice was soft and whiny, as if there was no thought in the world worse than having to leave his ticklish predicament behind.

“See? He wants us to push him to be good, isn’t that right, boy?” Izzy cooed.

“Yes! Goodness, Izzy, fuck!” Stede sputtered. He couldn’t manage much more than that, instead grimacing silently as if to invite the tickling to resume.

Edward immediately started up again. He kept one hand on Stede’s adorable face. This time firmer, as if to keep his gaze fixed on Izzy. His other hand started to explore Stede’s stomach with a walking tap, probing a minefield of spots and watching Stede’s face. He walked his hand higher and higher with his arm until he was almost to Stede’s chest, where he saw an inviting twitch in Stede’s neck. He stopped his hand there and rotated it slightly, pinching at about that height along Stede’s side.

Stede thrashed in place as Edward did so, and he screamed. He screamed as if there was no thought in the world worse than staying in his ticklish predicament. But a signal in the back of his mind forced him to pause and realize he liked it. He only cried out for the torment to continue.

Izzy kept his hands in Stede’s armpits. He had a lot of fun with lighter techniques while Edward did his thing with his sides. Stede managed to stay still enough to keep his arms most of the way outstretched on his own. Izzy drummed his fingers up and down the soft, taut patches of skin, occasionally stopping to blow on Stede’s neck or scratch the exposed piece of his shoulder with his beard.

“Thahahahat’s a little fohohorward of you,” suggested Stede as Izzy’s beard and breath lingered longer and longer there as the minutes snowballed by.

“Nonsense, Captain, I’m on a mission with this little game,” deflected Izzy. Stede just kept on laughing, but Izzy finally convinced him to open his eyes. Immediate eye contact. “There you are, boy. How do you feel?”

“Nehehevahar bett-ter!” struggled Stede, maintaining eye contact but blinking rapidly at the flood of sensation as Izzy changed his technique to mirror Edward’s death spot squeezes on the other side.

“Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold yourself back,” Izzy commanded.

“Ehehehed,” laughed Stede.

“Hmmn?” Edward growled with a moderately horny squint back at the captain.

“I’m feheeling quihihite aroused,” reported Stede matter-of-factly, save for the peals of ticklish laughter trying their best to interrupt him. Edward leaned in and kissed Stede, letting go with his tickling hand and straddling Stede more fully.

His leg came to rest on Izzy’s hand, which his old first mate quickly retracted. Stede seemed to quickly shake a relaxation through his body, but hesitated before lowering his shoulders. Izzy wondered whether it was some kind of signal or not.

“Uh, Captain, you need something there?” Izzy asked shyly.

Edward’s mouth stole whatever reply Stede seemed to have no mind to attempt to formulate. They kept kissing there. It was clear their love was just as passionate as it had ever been. Izzy started to understand why these two had done the things they had done to themselves for one another. He wondered if he should start applauding their milestones and loosen up around the ship. He started to get the sense that the tickling scene was over, even if he figured he failed to make his larger point.

“Guess I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. I’m not ready to get that involved with a couple of pervert freaks that outrank me.” Izzy paused, trying to find more words. “Well, the captain and his kitten,” he clarified. “You’re cute with that bell, Edward,” he said under his breath, rolling his eyes a bit. With that, he started to walk away, back to his usual place. He traversed some stairs and a couple of corners. He was almost there.

Turning another corner, Izzy felt he was finally far enough away. He stopped for a moment to listen for nearby speech or footsteps. He sat and faced the ocean by himself, solitary in the position where Edward found him earlier in the day. And he let his guard down. Nobody had to know the effect his little torture scene had on him, and so he decided to let it show just a bit. The experience he just created for himself, it wasn’t another laceration of blackness across his wizened heart. It was pure and fun and joyful and a little arousing.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, and he let it out through a big smile. A picture of Edward straddling Stede formed in his head. He rotated the picture before turning on time, inserting himself in the fantasy image and joining Edward, adding two more hands to the fray. In his mind, he smiled at Edward and Stede there. In reality, he sat there smiling at the ocean. The sun was sinking, and his heart was calm.

#poutpout writes!#steddyhands #lee stede #ler blackbeard #ler izzy #Squealing Santa 2023 #ss2k23 #consensual tickling #cute elements #passionate kissing #minor exhibitionism elements #but tbh it's just Spriggs being Spriggs #Yearning ~ General

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avastrasposts · 10 months

Text

The British Connection - ch. 7

Cross posting this properly on Tumblr for the first time so it's been scheduled out throughout the day:

The plot follows MI6 agent Eve Edwards as she's assigned to help Billy Butcher and The Boys take down a new type of supe killing politicians on both sides of the pond. Not much fluff in this, plenty of canon typical violence, smut and extreme amounts of Britishness

Read on Ao3

The traffic is light and Butcher makes good time into the city but the January evening is already getting dark outside the car as he pulls up at the address she gave him.

She buzzes him in when he hits the button for her apartment and he takes the lift up to the 6th floor. When she opens the door for him she’s on the phone, and holds up a finger to silence him before he says anything. He walks inside and sits down on the sofa in the small room while she walks over to the window and leans against the windowsill. Butcher can see that she’s been crying, her eyes are red and she sniffles like she has a cold. He hears a man talking but can’t make out what he’s saying. Whoever he is, he’s doing all the talking. Eve’s face is drawn and serious, her puffy eyes on the floor as she listens with her ear pressed to her phone.

At last the voice on the other end goes quiet.

“Of course it’s been difficult for us all but I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through” she says, eyes still on the floor. “I wish I could be there but the company needs me over here or this deal will fall through.” Butcher can hear her voice tremble slightly, like she’s on the verge of tears again.

The man says something again and Eve turns to the window, “No, no, of course I don’t think my job is more important than, than..this, but I just can’t right now. You know what my boss is like, end of the world if the right deal for this new drug trial isn’t set in stone”.

The man starts to speak but Eve interrupts him. “Listen, I’m really sorry, I have to go. Someone’s here to see me, it’s work. Try to get some sleep, use those pills you got, numb your brain for a few hours.”

Butcher catches a few more mumbles from the phone before Eve says goodbye, “Love you too, yes, I’ll ring her tomorrow, promise, talk soon, get some sleep, ok, bye.”

She slips the phone in her back pocket and Butcher can see how she furtively wipes her eyes before she turns to face him. She looks older now, her brow is knotted and her jaw clenched, like she’s biting back on something.

“Sorry about that, we had a bit of an emergency back home just before I left.”

“Family?” Butcher asks.

“Yes, there was an accident a few days ago, my brother’s daughter, that was him on the phone, was hit by a bus. She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, must be rough being called away on assignment with that going on back ‘ome.” Butcher says

Eve sighs deeply and sinks down on the sofa next to Butcher. “It hasn’t been easy, and of course, my family doesn’t know what I really do so I have to make up excuses that can never cover for not being with my family at a time like this.”

She puts her head in her hands, her elbow on her knees and hides her face.

”Fuck.” she sighs in a wobbly voice.

Butcher’s not quite sure how to respond to Eve’s hunched back next to him on the sofa, it’s caught him by surprise to see her so emotional, awkwardly he puts his hand out and pats her on the back.

“You’re alright, luv, just breathe.”

The patting feels like he’s patting his old dog Terror so he starts stroking her back instead, maybe that’s a more comforting feeling. Her knitted jumper is soft and he can feel the bony parts of her spine under her curved back. Slowly her breathing seems to calm so he keeps stroking her, trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to get out of this. But after a few minutes Eve sits back up and runs her fingers through her hair and he lets his hand fall down to his side.

“Thanks, Butcher,” she says and pushes herself to her feet, “I’m usually not such a mess but..you know…”.

She goes over to the bathroom and he hears the water run and when she comes out again her eyes are still red but less puffy.

“You wanted to go over the CCTV footage for the two incidents in the UK,” Eve says, “Cochran sent it over a couple of hours ago using our secure server.” “Ye, we’d better get on that.” Butcher replies and makes room on the coffee table for the laptop Eve has pulled out of her bag. He hasn’t forgotten about her file and the redacted surname, but best to get this information first and Eve seems to want to get down to business.

She boots up the laptop and logs in to the server, making sure Butcher can’t see the password.

“This is the first one, Sarah Crawford attacking the PM. There are no cameras in the PM’s office where the attack happened but Cochran said most of the events took place in the hall outside where there’s CCTV.”

She full-screens the video player and a view of a very British looking hallway can be seen in colour on screen.

The hallway is empty at first but then the British PM can be seen coming down the hall and entering the office. A woman in her 30’s comes closely after him, holding a folder in her arms. She stops abruptly a few steps from the office door and seems to freeze. A few seconds pass without her moving and a security officer, a man in a dark suit, can be seen approaching her, coming into frame from further down the hallway. Before he reaches her she launches herself through the open office door and at the PM, presumably just on the other side. The camera can’t see what happens in the office but the security officer immediately calls for back-up and runs into the room. Two more men in suits come running down the hall and into the room and after a few seconds they can be seen pulling the woman out of the room. She has blood on her hands and is scrambling to get loose but her face is calm. Suddenly she stops moving and stands still, letting herself be dragged away from the door. As one of the officers lets go of her briefly to pull out his handcuffs she launches herself against them and manages to break free, rushing through the door again. The first security officer pulls his gun and rapid fires into her back. The camera sees only her feet as she falls.

“Where’s the cunt who’s controllin’ her then?” Butcher says, searching the screen for any other suspect.

“I don’t know.” Eve bends forward, looking at the corners of the hallway. “Maybe there’s a room just out of view from the camera, or another landing on the other side.” She points to the top of the staircase that can be seen in the bottom right corner.

“I’ve asked Cochran for a list of all employees in Number 10 on the day. He’s sending it over first thing tomorrow, UK time. So we’ll have it at some point during the night.”.

“Alright, let’s see the other one,” Butcher says and sits back up, creating some distance between himself and Eve. He was trying to remember that he couldn’t trust her but her vulnerability and grief on the sofa had brought out that fucking overprotective trait that had got him in to so much trouble over the years.

Eve full-screens the second video and it shows four different camera feeds, all on a stretch of busy three lane expressway in London.

“That looks like the A13, down by East Ham,” Butcher grins. “More my part of town than yours, luv”.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eve says, “Look,” She points to a black sedan travelling in one of the west bound lanes, “There’s the Ministry car.”

The black car seems to be driving normally for a few seconds before starting to wobble across the lane, forcing cars in the other lanes to swerve out of its way. It bounces against the barrier in the middle and back against a van in the inside lane. A bus ahead of it slows down and the Ministry car disappears from view for a few seconds while the bus driver tries to get out of its way. It emerges ahead of the bus at an angle, starting to spin out of control now, its front end against the oncoming traffic. It grazes the middle barrier again and jerks sideways into the outside lane and is hit by a large lorry across the midsection. The lorry’s wheels lock up as the driver hammers the brakes but the big 18-wheeler is slow to stop and it pushes the Ministry car ahead of it, smashing it into the back of a van that bounces into another lorry. The traffic grinds to a halt.

Eve and Butcher lean forwards towards the screen, both scanning the carnage for signs of the supe. People are getting out of their cars, phones in hands, moving towards the wreckage.

“Anyone of them could be the person we’re after,” Eve says, “we don’t even know if we’re looking for a man or a woman.”

“Go back to the beginning, can you run it in slow motion?” Butcher asks.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Eve starts the video from the beginning and changes the playback speed. Now the traffic is moving at half the speed. At the point where the Ministry car starts to wobble, Eve pauses the video and they both lean in to scan the four video feeds for anything out of the ordinary.

“You can see the driver tryin’ to get at the bloke in the back here.” Butcher points at the window of the Ministry car. Through the window they can see the outline of the driver as he’s trying to climb back over the seats in the front.

“Huh…look at that taxi.” Eve points at a London Black Cab in the lane next to the Ministry car. From one of the windows someone is staring at the Ministry car.

“Back up the video a few seconds,” Butcher says. When the video pauses again the black cab is in frame and the person is staring at the Ministry car already.

“I bet ya, that’s the supe, looks like a man, pretty tall I reckon.”

Eve leans in closer, straining her eyes at the screen. “I think you’re right about it being a man, but the video is too grainy to make out any details.

“He’s already starin’’ at the car before it starts to wobble.”

“You’re thinking he needs to have eyes on the person they’re controlling?”

“Keep playin’ it in slow-mo and let’s see.”

Eve lets the video run again and they both keep watching the black cab this time. The man in the window never seems to take his eyes off the Ministry car.

The video slowly moves forward, showing how the black cab stays behind the Ministry car but in the next lane, the whole time as the Ministry car starts drifting into other cars.

“I think the supe is either driving the black cab, or he’s controlling the driver too. Anyone seeing a car drifting like that would try to avoid it, not stay on its tail.” Eve says and Butcher nods in agreement, eyes still on the screen, brow furrowed.

When the Ministry car disappears from view behind the bus the taxi cab is forced to change to the outside lane and loses contact with the other car. It seems to speed up to get past the bus and is still in the outside lane when the Ministry car appears again. Eve pauses the video and they study the frame.

“There”, Butcher says. “The driver is tryin’ to get back to the steering wheel.” Eve hits play again and the video slowly moves forward. The driver reaches the wheel and they watch him try to control the car but it spins out of control. Suddenly his hands drop and he freezes in his seat. The car hits the barrier and a few seconds later it's hit by the lorry. The black cab speeds up, swerves past a couple of cars and disappears out of view while the traffic behind the lorry comes to a halt.

“So, you seein’ the same thing I am then?” Butcher asks as the video ends. “A supe who needs eye contact with their target but seemingly can control at least two people at once?” “Ye, that’s what I thought too.” Butcher sighs and scratches his beard.

“But he wasn’t looking at the taxi driver while controlling the driver of the Ministry car? Maybe eye contact or physical contact? Holding on to the taxi driver while keeping eyes on the Ministry driver?”

“Maybe. But however he’s doing it, it means fuckin’ trouble for us.”

#billy butcher #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x ofc #the boys #the boys fanfic

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leupagus · 2 years

Note

Anything involving Mary meeting Ed. I am but a weak Claudia O'Doherty fan.

Inspired by this glorious artwork:

If really pressed to think on it, Doug probably would have admitted that he considered Stede Bonnet a bit mad. In a genteel sort of way, although he'd never quite understood the chatter in town about how Stede was harmless. Sometimes Doug fancied he could still feel the bite of metal against his neck, Stede hissing down at him with the blank fury of someone who could do something very rash indeed.

The first time Stede died, Doug had rather thought that Mary and the children were avoiding his name as if they might summon him back into their lives, the way his grandmother never spoke of sea-monsters while his grandfather was out on the water. Which had given Doug a rather bleak view of what kind of husband and father Stede might have been, though it turned out that their misery was more akin to a canvas stretched badly on a frame unsuited to bear its tension; you could paint what you liked on its surface, but the picture itself would never hold fast.

But when Stede had died again, riding off with nothing more than half of Alma's orange, the remains of his family mentioned him freely, even fondly; his penchant for storytelling that would often give Louis nightmares and give Alma ideas; his high clear voice that would lead them in song at church, sometimes warbling a bit to make the children giggle when the service dragged on; his fumbling kindness that they knew was borne of love, but a stifled, miserable sort that could never find the right words. A dreamer, longing for something over the horizon, but anchored to a place that he could never call home.

So, yes, a bit mad, to want to leave Mary and Alma and Louis for the sea; but Doug wanted to leave his studio and his work for Mary and Alma and Louis, so perhaps all men were mad, in the end.

Then Doug realized what madness truly looked like.

"You would think, wouldn't you," said Edward "Blackbeard" Teach, terror of the West Indies, brigand and murderer, wanted by every navy in the civilized world, "You would think that the bastard would have the, the, the guts to sit down and tell you what he's feeling, wouldn't you?" He slammed his hand on the table, making his empty glass jump and tumble sideways. “Be a bit fucking emotionally available!”

"You would!" exclaimed Mary, righting and refilling it with whatever vile liquid was in that bottle Blackbeard had brought with him. One of the bottles, at least — Blackbeard had brought a lot of bottles, when he'd washed up at the Bonnet estate a few hours ago, a muddled mess of black leather and ash and hair, demanding to be taken to Stede Bonnet's grave so he could piss on it.

"Or cry, that's still possible," he'd admitted, swaying slightly on Mary's doorstep. Doug and Mary had reached out to catch him — but Stede, hurrying up from God only knew where, had beaten them to it.

"You can cry or relieve yourself on it if you like, but I’d rather you didn’t vomit on it," he'd huffed, slinging Blackbeard's arm around his shoulder with the ease of what looked like long practice. "Mary, my apologies for this, but he really kept insisting that he'd only forgive my corpse, and I thought this might be a good compromise."

"I've done the first two myself," Mary had said, holding the door open. “Haven’t tried the vomiting, though. Might help.”

Blackbeard had squinted muzzily at her. "I love you," he said, with the air of someone making a profound discovery.

Now, Stede and Doug were banished to the parlor while Blackbeard and Mary shouted gleefully at each other in the salon, though occasionally Doug peered through the doorway to see how things were progressing. There hadn't been any talk of going out to the gravesite yet, at least, and no one had vomited or relieved themselves. There had been a bit of crying.

"I'm sure Mary's just humoring him," Doug told Stede, wondering if he should pat him on the back. Blackbeard was roaring something about Stede's huge...solutions, or something.

Stede sighed, clutching at the tray of water glasses. “No, no,” he said, “I deserve this.” And in a show of bravery fit to rival any of the stories he’d told of derring-do on the high seas, he lifted his chin and said, “Refreshments, anyone?” as he ventured into the salon.

#ofmd fic #ED AND MARY = BFFS #they'll be penpals for life #swooping in occasionally into each others' lives being like 'hey babe!' and go out for drinks #while Doug is all :D and Stede is all D:#our flag means death motherfuckers #ficcage of interest #promptfest '22 #ETA: originally had the artwork posted on this #but deleted because I realized reposting without permission was SUPER shitty of me #sorry to the artist! it's now just a link!

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raggedy-dxctor · 2 years

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Hi love! Me again! I was wondering if I could request another Izzy x reader? I can’t get enough of that man 😤 I’m not sure if you are comfortable with writing angst, but if you are…I was hoping I could request something along the lines of: The reader and Izzy (maybe not in a fully established relationship quite yet) where they’re both kinda of just flirty and cute and Izzy is all sweet to the reader, but then Izzy kind of slips back into mean Izzy for a sec and says something harsh toward the reader and accidentally makes them cry? The ending is completely up to you my friend! Thx💕

Gone | Izzy Hands

pairing(s): izzy hands x gn!reader, brief mention of stede x ed

warnings: izzy being a twat, the author felt bad for lousy writing so they took the request a step further, heavy angst, not proofread, ed and izzy arguing

when izzy didn't wait for you in the corridor, with his usual flirty wink or outstretched hand, that morning, something immediately felt off. the tense atmosphere hitting you like a brick immediately after the conclusion. something was wrong, very wrong.

a suffocating and painful silence fell over the ship as everyone sat around the table, hastily eating their food in desperation to escape the awkwardness. ever since stede had left, the crew had been on edge, izzy and ed were arguing constantly, lucius was oddly quiet and everyone just overall missed the comfort that stede brought to the ship.

the atmosphere was no doubt down to last night's heated argument between ed and izzy, harsh words being thrown at eachother as they reached breaking point, izzy desperate for his old friend back and ed desperate for the love of his life back.

"oh fuck off izzy, you know im still blackbeard" ed seethed as he glared daggers at his first mate, who he swore was trying his absolute hardest to push him over the edge.

"as fucking if edward, the man you've become wouldn't even be able to scratch blackbeard, that fucking stede bonnet has changed you, and in the worst possible way imaginable, you're weak" he growled back, causing ed's face to contort into an expression of pure, uncontrollable rage.

"yeah well you're not exactly the fearsome izzy hands anymore are you?! you're fucking pathetic, you spend your days just pining after y/n, it's ruined you!" he spat, his eyes immediately widening as he froze, regretting his words. he hadn't thought that at all, in fact he was haooy for izzy, he thought you'd finally change the cold hearted man he called his friend.

"wait no i- izzy i didn't- i'm s-" "don't fucking bother" he growled, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as the words swirled around in his head.

he didn't sleep at all that night, tossing an turning as he fpund himself suddenly overcome with the urge to run into your arms, but he knew ed was right. that was last night.

"izzy...?" you quitely whispered, peeking your head around the door to his room. his head snapped to the door and he growled slightly, catching you completely off guard. "fuck off, y/n" he grunted, slight pain in his voice as he tried to turn you away.

"did i. do something wrong iz?" you frowned, opening the door slightly more to stand in the doorway. your question was met with another growl as he jumped uo and stormed towards you, grabbing the door, but as he stood there, he hesitated, seeing you stood there made him reconsider his anger.

a moment of weakness over took him as all of his progress to isolate himself from his feelings again fell undone. he gently reached out for your face, placed a hand in your cheek and frowned. as you leaned into his hand he immediately snapped back into reality and snatched his hand back, growling as he became angry at his weakness and the effect you had on him.

"you know y/n. you really need to learn to leave me the fuck alone, is it not clear that i've been fucking avoiding you all day?? you make me weak and i fucking hate it, you should leave and never come back" he spat, letting out all the pent up anger in one go. as soon as he saw the timid and heartbroken look on your face, regret washed over him he could practically feel his legs threatening to give way as he came to terms with what he had said, why would he ever say that to the person he loved? of course love made him weak, it was supposed to wasn't it?

as his head shot up to meet your eyes and apologise, he found that youhad disappeared, the space where you had been empty, leaving izzy alone. he frantically searched the entire ship for you, unable to find a single trace of you, his beloved y/n.

as the sun rose the next morning, he would crumple to his knees when he find the small boat that's usually on the side of the ship missing, your room empty apart from a few little trinkets that izzy had gifted to you.

as rumour spread around of his words to you, the crew looked at him in disbelief, it was so obvious to them how much he adored you, so how on earth could he have said that? ed blamed himself of course and the two were never quite as close again, a silent agreement between the two never to speak your name again, but izzy still looked for you. every town the revenge docked at, every ship they raided and every pirate they met, the first thing on his lips was your name, but they never found anything. the only lead bringing him to a small coastline town that the two of you had adored when you were on good term, but despite the clue being promising, there was no luck and izzy was left heartbroken and alone once again.

#izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #our flag means death #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death fanfiction #con o'neill

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just-a-sleepy-idiot · 2 years

Note

BEING HIS ROOMATE WAS GOOD! What do you think the roomate!riddler would do if he found you maybe one day snooping around his things?

Thank you! <33 And we really gotta know what hes gonna do with the tape huh ;D

Dano!Riddler Imagine: Roommate!Reader snooping around his stuff

Content/Warnings: Yandere behavior, Fluffy but also scary Edward, I would say kidnapping but you already live there so idk, Restraints, Gender neutral Reader

When you moved into this flat you found yourself to be living with a quite interesting man. He was introverted and soft spoken but there were also many things that stood out about him, like his habit of integrating riddles into his way of conversing with people. He just naturally intwined them into his language like he didn’t have to think twice about it.

And the Riddles were also ever present at home- but you most often stumbled upon them on little notes that he had started to leave out for you to solve. Edward was a forensic analyst you learned, and it explained quite a few of the things that he was working on this old desk in the living room. You weren’t sure what he was crafting there, you could only determine a labyrinth amongst them.

A labyrinth you believed to recognize in one of the horrifying clips that were shown most recently on the news. You tried to distance yourself from the thought, from the familiar looking eyes and glasses you recognized in that masked face.

You swallowed thickly as you replayed the clip on your computer- the green eyes that you knew looking so calm and attentive were now filled with brisk madness. Could that truly be him? The man who smiled to himself when you announced that you found his riddle for you, the man who stood there quietly contemplating and observing you when you sat by the dinner table trying not to cry.

Eventually he had cautiously approached you, scribbling down something as he stood next to you and then sliding over the paper with a riddle on it. You stared at it for a few moments, not sure if you had the energy for that kind of thing right now. He looked from the paper to you and back and begun to black out some of the symbols, wordlessly encouraging you to do the same. At some point you quietly picked up the pen and worked alongside him, pulling your legs up on the chair.

Sometimes your gaze trailed off to him beside you, and he would catch your eyes for a moment before quickly looking down again. When you blackened out the last symbols you saw that it revealed a little picture of a rabbit. A small smile played around your lips and you chuckled softly- so he tried to comfort you..

The man you knew was so different from what you saw there, but there were too many clues to ignore it. It was no use, how could you quench your anxiety if you didn’t go after the growing suspicion??

So you waited until you were sure he would leave for a while longer and sneaked into his room. It was dark, and newspaper sites paved his walls. You let your gaze roam over them and it looked like they all had an angry focus on the founding families of Gotham. But soon your eyes were fixated on something else, you had turned around to see what was on his table and there you saw some horrifying machinery. Crafts which use could not be covered by his profession anymore- and carved into the wood below was the infamous symbol.

You gasped with horror, feeling the terror creeping up on you as it fully dawned on you. He.. really was the Riddler! He was this murderer, this terrorist who was after the big people in Gotham. Your chest rose and sunk quickly in fear as you now approached his closet- you wanted final proof, you wanted to see the mask.

„Are you looking for this?“

The mask now hung there right in front of you and you backed up in shock, right into the man who was holding in in front of you. You jumped and squealed, instinctively trying to run away but his arms wrapped around you quickly and pulled you back into his chest again.

His lips were close to your ear as he looked around trying to think of what to do with you now before you had an opportunity to break free- „You really shouldn’t have done this..“

Your heard his breath quicken as he tried to contain you and it tickled your ear- you squirmed and squealed so desperately it was almost lovely.

But your efforts were getting a bit too much, so he heaved you on the bed with all his strength and was quick to catch your wrists do pin you down as you instantly tried to jump up again. He was towering over you as his knee rested on the bed, and strands of his hair fell into his face.

You could now see what he was wearing, see the same dark green attire with the question mark from the video! His hair was disheveled from wearing the mask before, and he hastily put on his glasses on again. Edward looked around with a dark huff and reached away with his free hand to grab the duct tape- his eyes landed on you again as he got the end with his teeth and stretched it out with the other hand.

He hurried to now put the tape around your wrists as you struggled against him, heaving his other leg on the bed and over you to straddle you so you couldn’t turn around as he concentrated on your wrists. „Stay still!“ He growled increasingly frustrated with you.

When he was finished he exhaled audibly and slammed his hands next to your head on the bed, hovering over you with a clenched jaw.

„That’s not how it was supposed to be, no.. no that wasn’t part of my plan! But now I have no other choice but to keep you to myself until I’m through with them you see??“

Your breath was shaking and you swallowed thickly, a tear ran down your cheek. „Are you going to hurt me?“

He eyed you for a few seconds like he still wasn’t sure, as he was thinking his gaze mindlessly trailed over your body before he shook his head.

"That depends.. if you can behave now. Will you behave for me?"

- - -

If you liked this and want more of this character comment or send an ask

#edward nashton x reader #paul dano riddler #dano!riddler #the batman riddler x reader #the batman x reader

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

I Wish I Could Leave This Alone (I Know How Much You Want Me To)

Babe Heffron x Reader (plus guest) One Shot

Summary: Babe’s birthday gift to you has an unexpected party crasher

Warnings: smut, angst, infidelity (?), reader overthinking while getting dicked down, I wrote this and immediately posted it so it will be edited at some point

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babe’s kiss was soft, but his touch was not.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped from the back of your throat as one of his hands gripped tightly at your hip, and when he smiled against your lips you couldn’t help but feel like you’d had done something to amuse him.

“What?” you pant, leaning back at the waist to break the kiss and frowning at his smirk.

He chuckled warmly as he walked you backward towards your bed, the hand at your hip finding its way under your shirt and up against your sternum.

“Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” he asked playfully, and you immediately felt guilty.

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.”

Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.”

A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

“I remembered, by the way.”

Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

“I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about.

Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

“Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

“What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark.

“And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

“Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

“Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

“It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

“Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

“Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

“C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before.

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

“Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

“How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

“And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

“Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

“Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face.

Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

“Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

“Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window.

Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow.

And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face.

A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission.

He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it.

You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on.

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head.

I really am a monster.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe.

You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

“Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them.

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity.

Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

“Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

“I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you.

But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back.

Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you.

The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go.

He didn’t want you to be his, wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did.

All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

“Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe.

He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

“Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

“I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #ron speirs x reader #babe heffron imagines #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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bigg-city-riders-au · 2 years

Note

Yayyyyy requests are still open, Anyways……… POV: you gone and done it and now have a creepy near feral Edward hunting you down, Will he grant mercy or will you end up as a snack?

Yes! I've been wanting to write Edward like this, but I hadn't been able to come up with good ideas. Drabbble under the cut. TW for implied character death.

You run as fast as your legs can carry you as you hear the dreaded steamer growling in the distance. You try to weave through the trees of the forests, hoping he would lose sight of you and give up the chase. You hadn't meant to scare off the prey he had set his sights on, and it seems he's found a replacement for it. Unfortunately, it seems he has chosen you as a replacement.

You come to an abrupt stop the moment you reach the tracks on the other side. You have to be careful. Edward very well may be hiding somewhere close by. You scan the area. You don't see any signs of him, but that doesn't mean it's safe. You touch the rails, feeling for any vibration, a sign that a train could be coming. You feel nothing. You stand up straight and give one last look around before you cautiously begin to cross the tracks.

You know it's not a great idea, as he could literally lunge out at you at any second. Even if you can't see him, you feel like you're being watched. He's around here somewhere you simply can't see him. You are just about to make it to other side when you hear something move closer to you. You freeze, and listen. If it's Edward, you need to figure out where he could possibly be coming from. Nothing.

The entire forest has gone silent. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Something is here with you. You cautiously cross the tracks, not trying to make a single sound, as it would alert him to your location. You stop dead in your tracks and your heart drops as you hear a crack. You look down and see you had stepped on a dry branch. Within seconds, Edward comes barreling down the rails, snarling with his fangs bared.

You immediately take off running. Edward barely misses you with his snapping jaws. You flinch as you hear the sharp snap, but don't stop running. There's an open field not too far from here, away from the tracks. If you can make it there, you can get away from him. You cry out as you step into a hole, twisting your ankle, and you fall to the ground. You are quick to recover, scrambling back up, ignoring any cuts you may have received during the fall. The scent of blood is only making things worse for you, likely only encouraging Edward to chase after you.

You run as hard as you can, but your injured ankle slows you down quite a bit. You stop as you come near another set of tracks. You listen, and look around. You don't hear and see anything, but you're not sure if Edward is on his way here or not. You touch the rails again. Nothing.

If Edward catches you here, you're sure as dead. You have to be careful. You can't run as fast as you normally can thanks to your injured ankle. You wince as you start to cross the tracks. The pain in your ankle in unbearable, but you have to keep going. There are several sidings here, and you have to cross right in front of one to get to the other side. You swallow nervously, knowing if Edward is hiding out in that one, there would be no escape. Your fate would be sealed.

The siding itself would be a perfect place to hide and wait. It's concealed by trees and other plant life. You wouldn't be able to see him until the very last second, but what choice do you have? It's either take a chance and try to cross, or to die out here, knowing you are in the very same area as a ravenous steamer. You limp towards the other side.

It all happens so quickly...

Edward immediately lunges out from the siding, snatching you up in his powerful jaws. You scream and beg for mercy as you try to pry his jaws open, but it seems your pleas fall upon deaf ears. He has lost his patience with you, and it seems you're not going to be able to live another day. You swear you can smell the smoke and feel the heat from the fire burning deep inside the steamer. You dare not to look behind you, knowing the steamer's fiery gullet is just behind you. Edward growls, and with one quick swallow, you are gone.

#ask #anonymous #TTTE AU #TTTE #TTTE Edward #TW implied character death #tried to keep it mostly clean #my writing #curse!au

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valwentinefics · 3 years

Text

El Tango De Roxanne - Edward Cullen x Reader

The more traditional Edward Cullen catches feeling for Y/n, a girl infamous around the school for sleeping around

A/N: I just needed to do a fic for this song, its been bugging me so much, I apologize for how short it is and how the end doesn’t really fit, I just wanted to do a part two with come what may. Also no slut shaming is allowed, people can do whatever they want with their bodies as long as its not harming anyone!! As always not proof read, we die like men.

TW: None that I know of, if you feel there is one I should put pls lmk!!

Requests are OPEN

Roxanne

You don't have to put on that red light

Walk the streets for money

You don’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s right

Edward Cullen considered him progressive. He had no trouble adopting the views of each decade he lived through. Him and Esme would be at most protests dressed in disguises to show their support for whatever cause needed fighting for. But the one outdated view he could never seem to let go of was virginity. Edward believed it to be sacred, something that should only be shared after marriage with your soulmate. So it came to a big shock to both him and his family when he began to fall for Y/n, a girl infamous at his small school for sleeping around.

Roxanne

You don’t have to wear that dress tonight

Roxanne

You don’t have to sell your body to the night

No matter how hard he fought it he could never seem to let go of his feelings for her, despite how much internal conflict it caused him. At night he would stare out the window, thinking of her. Her e/c eyes, her s/c skin. Part of him wished he was one of the boys she hung around with, another part of him wished to make sure they’d never go near y/n. To harm them or scare them so that their lecherous gaze would forever stay away. He knew he could never and he felt some shame for entertaining the thought, but still the thoughts persisted.

His eyes upon your face

His hand upon your hand

His lips caress your skin

It’s more than I can stand

It was a normal day until Edward entered biology, his favourite class due to being partners with Y/n. It was the highlight of the day, to gaze at her from the corner of his eye as she did her work, occasionally brushing hands as he handed her a spare pencil when she needed one. He always wondered how her smooth lips would feel against his own, in fact he daydreamed about it quite often and as a result got teased by his family members for his slipping grades. However, when he entered the biology classroom and saw Mike Newton sitting in his seat and thinking about getting lucky with Y/n, he felt his day take a turn for the worse.

Edward walked over to the table, glare as icy as his skin. He dropped his textbooks onto the table in front of Mike with a loud bang, causing multiple people’s heads to turn and face them, all wondering what was going on between the two. “Newton, you’re in my seat.” He stared down the boy, his voice strained as he tried not to yell.

“Oh, Edward, sorry…” Mike scrambled up, grabbing his stuff. “Y/n, call me.” He said quickly, before darting to the back of the classroom. Edward felt like breathing a sigh of relief as Mike left, taking his rightful spot beside Y/n who was looking at him quizzically, Edward could tell by her thoughts that she was genuinely concerned for him.

Why does my heart cry

Feelings I can’t fight

“You’re not seriously going to call him, are you?” Edward questioned with a grimace which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/n.

“Why does it matter to you?” She raised an eyebrow, “Mikes a nice guy.”

“But he doesn’t love you.” He didn’t understand her thought process. Why was she doing something so intimate, so sacred, with someone who didn’t love her.

She scoffed “It’s a hookup Edward, that's not the point. You should try it some time, maybe you wouldn’t have such a stick up your ass if you did.” She said defensively, but there was a hint of suggestion in her voice.

Edward wasn’t clueless to what she was suggesting, he didn’t have to read her thoughts to know that she was hoping he would accept, and that left him conflicted. On one hand he was offered the most intimate and loving thing he could think of with the only girl he loved in all his time alive and undead, but on the other she didn’t love him, and he could possibly hurt her. He weighed his options carefully before he replied, his voice wavering.

“Let me take you out for dinner first.” He said, swallowing a lump in his throat as he scribbled down his number onto a piece of paper and handed it to her. Her hand took the paper from his hesitantly.

You’re free to leave me, but just don’t deceive me

And please, believe me when I say I love you

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #twilight

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sorion · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on OFMD S2

So I’ve given it some thought (incessantly), and I’ve decided what I would like to see in S2 of Our Flag Means Death. (I could write the according fanfic, but that would be quite a bit of work XD)

While I like the reunion-and-then-resolving-all-issues fics, I don’t think that’s the way to go. It’s too easy. They’re way too in love to actively think about what needs resolving and would just fall into place next to each other again. (I know Ed’s trying to be all dark and dangerous, right now, but I’ll remind you that in the last shot he’s crying his eyes out and staring forlornly out the window. The moment he has Stede in front of him, he’ll fold.)

So here’s what I’d do instead:

I’d delay the reunion, and make Stede constantly miss the Revenge, so that they can grow into what they want and who they are without the other showing it to them.

Edward is the tricky one, but I think it’s crucial that he learns who he is now and that he stands solidly with his identity, before he can stand with someone else.

Since the fandom has pretty much decided that Lucius lives in the walls, we’ll start there. Ed’s on his own, and Lucius gets thrown out of a hatch because of some big wave or something. Ed is crazy relieved and happy that he’s not dead and holds onto him until he’s done saying thank you and I’m sorry enough times, because if he hasn’t killed Lucius, that means he hasn’t killed the part of him that’s still Ed. After some bitching, Lucius is going to be the character to help solidify Edward. They can later incorporate Frenchie and Jim (and even Ivan and Fang), as long as they keep the development from Izzy until such a time that Ed can fend off Izzy’s words.

Obviously, Izzy won’t be happy when he finds out who his captain has become again.

Meanwhile, since we have the time, Stede has to learn more pirating skills on the go. I think he’s quite certain about his identity after leaving his family, but the self-esteem could use some work. He also has to prepare for the fact that Ed might not be the person he left behind and what that might mean for him. Also, for dramatic purposes, I’d particularly teach him to throw knives, so that, once he catches up with Edward, he can dashingly jump to the rescue.

Rescue from what, you ask? Well, I know some of you might hate me for it, but I need a threat that could get close enough to Ed to make a quick intervention necessary. And that’s going to have to be Izzy. They’re not on a ship, because Stede can’t catch up to them there without being seen at all, so it’s on land somewhere. Also, to be frank, Izzy’s absolutely the type who might get to a point where he thinks that “putting Ed out of his misery” would be the humane thing to do. Cue Stede and his newly acquired knife-throwing skills. (Sorry Iz.) Izzy lives long enough to witness the reunion, and if he’s so inclined, he can comment on it with one last and emphatic “Fuck”.

So, yes. I like that idea. But I’m not going to write it, because that would take forever ^-^’’’

Thoughts?

#our flag means death #meta #ofmd meta

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #justice league #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #pining bagels repeat

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barbiehandlrr · 3 years

Text

To Know

The first time Natasha has the thought, she’s seven years old.

The dress is stuffy; the collar feels like a weight around her neck and Mama scowls when Natasha reaches up to tug at it. “For God’s sake, bambina,” she sighs. “Can you give it a rest? You can take it off in a few hours. You know what your father will say if he catches you playing with it again.”

At seven years old, Natasha already knows many things. She can create circuit boards, mentally solve equations that send adults running for their calculators. Yes, she knows many things, but the first thing she ever learned? Howard Stark isn’t a good father. As far as she’s concerned, Jarvis is her father. Natasha knows better than to say all of that. Instead she allows her gaze to wander around the room, taking in the sights of all the other girls in dresses and the boys in their suits.

“I wish I could be a boy,” Natasha tells Mama. “They get to wear suits and I have to wear this dumb dress.”

Mama laughs, and Natasha’s heart soars, though she’s not quite sure why her mother is laughing. She doesn’t laugh much, but it’s one of Natasha’s favorite sounds. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Mama says, readjusting her hair bow. “You’re such a pretty little lady.”

Pretty little lady. The words leave Natasha feeling nauseous, and for the first time in a long time, she can’t figure out why.

At eight and a half years old, Natasha cuts her own hair. It’s short, a mop on her head, and when Mama shrieks that she looks like a boy and what have you done to your beautiful hair? Natasha grins in satisfaction. Jarvis fixes it and gives her a soft smile. Jarvis doesn’t care that Natasha prefers jeans and t-shirts over dresses, doesn’t care that she cut off her long, curly hair. He loves her just as she is.

When he takes her to the full length mirror to take a look, Natasha’s heart flutters happily and she can hardly contain the rush of excitement. Yeah, she thinks. This is right.

Natasha gets detention for refusing to wear a skirt when she’s eleven years old. Pants are more comfortable, she insists. The boys get to wear them!

Dad shouts at her over the phone, hisses that she’ll never be a boy. Natasha aches for the ground to swallow her up, drag her down to the endless void where she doesn’t have to be anything. The words rise in her throat, I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl! But they die as quickly as they rise. At eleven years old, Natasha knows many things. She’s in high school at eleven years old, nearly on her way to college coursework. Natasha doesn’t know how she knows this, but it’s the most important fact that resides in her brain.

Natasha Stark is not a girl.

Her body is wrong. When her voice should begin to deepen it remains high pitched, a soprano note that Jarvis and Ana gush over and that she wishes desperately did not exist. Her body begins to grow and change in ways that Ana had told her it would, but Natasha had just snorted and not paid attention to any of it. Her body begins to curve and her chest begins to grow and she bleeds. Natasha spends more time locked in her bedroom, absorbed in her robots so that no one can look at her and her horrible body. Her dainty, feminine, wrong body.

Jarvis and Ana whisper about her. They’re worried. Whenever they ask her about it, Natasha comes up with an excuse. I miss Mama and wish she would come home. Dad was being a jerk again.

Rich families are cutthroat. If Natasha doesn’t conform, behave exactly how they all want her to, she’ll be an outcast. She’ll be sent away to one of those horrible camps a girl at school was talking about and Dad would make Jarvis and Ana stop talking to her.

Keeping Jarvis and Ana was almost worth all of the wrongness.

Almost.

That same year, Natasha comes across the word transgender in a book she’s reading. It’s not often that she has to look something up. On a Thursday afternoon, after days of contemplation, she makes the trek down to her school’s library. The other students giggle when they spot her, Natasha the freak, and she sneers at them before turning to the card catalog. It takes what feels like hours to find what she’s looking for. LGBT 306.76. She follows the numbers, dives deep into the nonfiction section and frowns. It’s a small section, but she’ll make do. There she spots a book, She's not there : a life in two genders. Natasha pulls it off the shelf, reads about this person who everyone assumes to be a girl but really is a boy. There he defines the word Natasha saw, the word transgender: a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

It comes in waves, the realizations and relief and all of it. Everyone around her thinks that Natasha’s a girl, but something inside of her screams wrong! That’s wrong! She’s never had a word for it. And there are more people just like her? Natasha takes the book to a table and reads feverishly, taking notes.

She’ll never be able to do anything about it, but the more she reads, the more Natasha’s convinced of it. She’s transgender. Not wrong or horrible or broken.

Transgender. Natasha has more research to do.

She’s thirteen and alone in her room, staring at herself in the mirror. Mama says that she’s turning into a beautiful young woman, albeit not as proper as she would like. The last bit is always said with a tiny smile, so Natasha knows that Mama is joking. Mostly. And dear old Dad? Well, that bastard isn’t even around, so what does he know?

The bruises on her ribs scream in agony, but Natasha swallows down a hiss of pain. Howard isn’t here, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could break her someday. She may be broken, but at least she has Jarvis and Ana.

Jarvis and Ana, who teach her how to cook. Jarvis and Ana who don’t hit or shout when she burns banana bread and nearly starts a fire, who laugh with her and choose her.

Ana bought her these clothes, these jeans and a black t-shirt that’s just a bit too big on her petite frame and brand new Chuck Taylors. Alone in her bedroom, Natasha pulls her hair back grinning at the sight in front of her. She doesn’t see Natasha, or a pretty little lady or a proper young woman. The image in front of her is young, and a bit too earnest, and dammit, Natasha, why are you crying?

The image in front of her is a boy. He looks about two years younger than her, but she can work with it. Weak, fragile Natasha is gone. In her place stands a boy, an exuberant, funny, genius of a boy. The boy and Natasha reach out; their fingers touch, and Natasha feels more at home than she has since she was eight and a half, her waist-length hair clumps on the floor.

Natasha knows what her name should have been. Mama told her years and years ago, and it felt like it was hers. Anthony. Anthony Edward Stark. “Anthony.” Natasha whispers the name, crossing that line at last. After this there’s no going back. No more Natasha and dresses and bows and heels and skirts. There will only be Anthony and his jeans and t-shirts and sneakers, Anthony and his deep voice and his rightness.

Anthony moves his fingers away from the mirror, lets go of his long hair and the illusion shatters. In front of him stands a girl, a weak, broken girl in boy’s clothing. Who is he thinking? He can’t be Anthony. His mother would never speak to him again; Howard would toss him out on the streets. He’d be all alone. He wouldn’t even have Jarvis and Ana.

He’ll call himself Anthony, he decides. Or maybe even Tony. Anthony’s too posh, too formal, everything Howard loves and all things he hates. Yes, Tony. Tony sounds good, sounds right. He’ll answer to Natasha and wear the frilly dresses and play the part of a nice young woman. The thought sends waves of nausea so fierce that his knees buckle, but Tony can do it. He’s going off to MIT next year. Just one more year and he can be free.

Tony doesn’t last a year. Before his fourteenth birthday he’s in jeans and t-shirts, long hair pulled into a ponytail or braid. Howard hates it, tells him he looks like a rat and a slob, but what does he know? Mama’s away on longer and longer trips, which means longer stretches where he doesn’t have to wear those horrible dresses. Everyone still calls him Natasha, and he bites back a snarl and an My fucking name is Tony every time, but he manages. The masculine clothes don’t ease all of it, but they help.

MIT is a godsend. For the first time in his life, Tony is free to create his robots, live out from under Howard’s thumb, and finally be himself. The media hounds him, but for the first time in his life Tony doesn’t care. He cuts his hair again and rumors about him being a butch lesbian circulate and he just laughs. If only they knew.

There is just one thing wrong, other than himself. He’s younger than everyone else, smarter and he doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s nothing that Tony isn’t used to. He survived boarding school, and he’ll survive this too.

Then he meets Rhodey.

At first, they’re Jim and Natasha. Jim is older than Tony by two years, but they’re in the same year. They share the same general education class, Sociology 101, and they get paired together for a project. They both have single dorms, but two months later, Tony has practically moved into his room.

Jim is now Rhodey, but Tony is still Natasha. He yearns to tell him, stops and starts, the words dying in his throat. In a short amount of time, Tony’s become attached and anyone to whom he attaches himself winds up leaving. Tony’s too loud, too smart, he stays up too late and hyperfocuses on his robots. Rhodey doesn’t care about all of that, but Rhodey will definitely care if Tony tells him I’m not a girl, don’t call me Natasha, please call me Tony. Tony can practically see Rhodey recoil in disgust, shove him away and kick him out of his dorm.

Tony can’t, won’t, risk that.

Howard pays for an off campus apartment next year. Tony and Rhodey live in their own apartment, almost in their own little world. Howard doesn’t know that Rhodey’s living with him. Tony had mentioned it, but Howard had just grunted, not even paying attention.

It’s better that way.

Tony only binds his chest when Rhodey isn’t home. He knows he’s not supposed to wrap with ace bandages, but he has nothing else and he’s desperate. What he doesn’t count on his Rhodey coming home early, seeing Tony in the living room with nothing but his jeans and an ace bandage binding his breasts.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other, neither speaking. Then Rhodey opens his mouth and Tony bolts, locking his bedroom door behind him.

Goddammit.

Tony waits anxiously for a few days, almost begging Rhodey to say something and get the conversation over with, but he never does. Rhodey is good like that. Everyone else thinks Tony is weird, but Rhodey loves him for who he is, not in spite of it as so many people think. That much Tony knows to be true. But if Rhodey knew this about him, then Rhodey wouldn’t love him anymore.

Rhodey is everything. He’s friendship and love, late nights and delirious mornings, comfort and safety, and Tony aches desperately to hold onto him. They sit together in the living room, Rhodey doing homework and Tony fiddling with DUM-E’s arm. Rhodey is calm, but Tony is so tense that he can hardly stand it, and before he knows it the words, “Why won’t you call me a freak?” slip from his mouth. Rhodey looks up at him in surprise and Tony continues. “You walked in on me and you haven’t said a word! Go on! Call me disgusting! Call me a freak! Just get it over with. Dammit, Jim, why can’t you just get it over with and stop stringing me along?”

Rhodey sighs and shoves his textbook away. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Bullshit,” Tony hisses. “I’m a fucking freak and you know it! Everyone else already thinks it, so go on, have at it. Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

Rhodey raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?” Tony’s face flushes with rage, but before he can retort, Rhodey’s up and crossing the room, standing right in front of him. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was a big deal. Nat, you stay up for three days at a time. You leave circuit boards and wires all over and forget to do your laundry. You’re loud and funny and one of the kindest people I know. This? The, what is it called, binding? It’s not even the weirdest or worst thing I’ve caught you doing.”

Tony deflates and stares at his friend for a moment. It’s not often that he’s speechless, and judging by Rhodey’s smirk, he must be thinking the same thing. “I guess you’re right,” he says slowly. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

“Cross my heart.”

Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird. Rhodey doesn’t want to toss him away, discard and abandon him like the trash so many other people believe he is. Tony doesn’t deserve Rhodey, doesn’t deserve his kindness, love, or friendship. But with Rhodey, he feels the safest. If Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird for binding, maybe he won’t care about the other stuff? Tony’s heart hammers in his chest, his palms sweat and he sits on the floor. Rhodey sits across from him, reaches out and squeezes his hand.

“Rhodey, I have to tell you something.”

Rhodey waits patiently while Tony collects himself. Tony’s never said the words out loud before. Saying them feels like the end of a chapter, one more piece of Natasha gone. The idea of saying goodbye to Natasha is exciting, exhilarating, freeing. Tony takes a deep breath and looks into Rhodey’s eyes.

“I’m transgender.”

** Rhodey has questions, of course, he does, but he holds onto Tony tightly as he explains everything. How he never felt like a girl, how he doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows that he’s a boy. He’s a boy and he wants to die every time someone calls him Natasha, how he wants to burn every dress and makeup palette he owns, how he feels like himself in masculine jeans and t-shirts and suits.

And then Rhodey does something that shocks him. It’s a question. A simple one, really.

“What’s your name?”

And for the first time he gets to respond, “My name is Tony.” Everything falls into place, and Tony sighs, leaning into his friend. Rhodey pulls him all the closer and Tony affirms, “My name is Tony.”

“Okay, Tony,” Rhodey says with a wide grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A few days later, Tony unlocks the door to the apartment and kicks off his shoes. Midterms suck, and he thinks he might actually eat dinner and go to bed early tonight. He stumbles into the kitchen, eyebrows raising curiously at the package on the table. There’s a note on top of the brown wrapping.

Tones,

Sorry if this is weird, but I just wanted to do something for you. I did research and everything says not to bind with ace bandages, so I got this for you. Let me know if it doesn’t fit.

And I know I didn’t say this before, and I should have, but thanks for trusting me.

--Rhodey

Tony opens the package and gasps when he sees what’s inside. He’s heard of these, but with Howard snooping through his credit card statements, it’s never been safe enough to buy one. The binder is lighter than he expected, but it feels like he’s touching gold. Tony rushes to his bedroom and puts it on, relieved when it actually fits. Then again, Rhodey knows everything about him. This is no exception. He puts his t-shirt back on, messes with his hair and looks at himself in the mirror. For the first time, he doesn’t see a girl pretending to be a boy. He sees himself, Tony Stark, and tears well dangerously in his eyes as he reaches up to touch his reflection. He’s still not exactly where he wants to be, he won’t be until he turns eighteen and can transition without Howard’s input, but the binder helps ease an ache inside of him, the ache that screams you’re wrong!

Tony doesn’t feel wrong, not with the binder, not with Rhodey calling him Tony and using masculine pronouns. No, for the first time in his entire life, Tony feels just right.

#trans tony stark #deadnaming tw #misgendering tw #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #tony stark #brief mention of child abuse

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