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azdoine · 4 months

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Who Cares If It's Worth The Candle?

Three days ago I wrote an article on some recent rational stories. I had not read any fiction of this kind since the days of Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres, and, since I constantly heard animated discussions of the merits of the rational writers, I was curious to see what they were like today. The specimens I tried I found disappointing, and I made some rather derogatory remarks in connection with my impressions of the genre in general. To my surprise, this brought me letters of protest in a volume and of a passionate earnestness which had hardly been elicited even by my occasional criticisms of Dath Ilan. Of the thirty-nine letters that have reached me, only seven approve my strictures. The writers of almost all the others seem deeply offended and shocked, and they all say almost exactly the same thing: that I had simply not read the right novels and that I would surely have a different opinion if I would only try this or that author recommended by the correspondent. In many of these letters there was a note of asperity, and one lady went so far as to declare that she would never read my articles again unless I were prepared to reconsider my position. In the meantime, furthermore, a number of other writers have published articles defending the rational story: Alexander Wales, Scott Alexander, Eneasz Brodski and Daystar Eld have all had something to say on the subject—nor has the umbrageous Eliezer Yudkowsky failed to raise his voice.

Overwhelmed by so much insistence, I at last wrote my correspondents that I would try to correct any injustice by undertaking to read some of the authors that had received the most recommendations and taking the whole matter up again. The writer that my correspondents were most nearly unanimous in putting at the top was Mister Domagoj Kurmaić, who was pressed upon me by eighteen people, and the book of his that eight of them were sure I could not fail to enjoy was a time loop caper called Mother of Learning. Well, I set out to read Mother of Learning in the hope of tasting some novel excitement, and I declare that it seems to me one of the dullest books I have ever encountered in any field. The first part of it is all about magic as it is practiced in university and contains a lot of information of the kind that you might expect to find in an encyclopedia article on tabletop role-playing-games. I skipped a good deal of this, and found myself skipping, also, a large section of the conversations between conventional scholastic characters: “Oh, here’s Xvim with the coursework. People may say what they like about coursework, but it does go on all through the quarter and make a backdrop,” etc. There was also a dreadful stock student of the undiagnosed autistic kind, with the embarrassing name of Zorian Kazinski, and, although he was the focal character of the novel, being Mister Domagoj Kurmaić’s version of the necessary Phil Connors prisoner, I had to skip a good deal of him too. In the meantime, I was losing the story, which had not got a firm grip on my attention, but I went back and picked it up and steadfastly pushed through to the end, and there I discovered that the whole point was that phenomenal arcane power can’t fix a broken family or mend estranged relationships. Not a bad idea for a character piece, and O. Henry would have known how to dramatize it in an entertaining tale of five thousand words, but Mister Kurmaić had not hesitated to pad it out to a book of seven hundred thousand, contriving one of those hackneyed cock-and-bull stories where the protagonist’s disability is a secret power, and larding the whole thing with details of training arcs, bits of quaint lore from OSR monster manuals, and the awful whimsical patter of worldbuilding.

I had often heard people say that Domagoj Kurmaić wrote well, and I felt that my correspondents had been playing him as their literary ace. But, really, he does not write very well: it is simply that he is more consciously literary than most of the other rational-story writers and that he thus attracts attention in a field which is mostly on a sub-literary level. In any serious department of fiction, his writing would not appear to have any distinction at all. Yet, commonplace in this respect though he is, he gives an impression of brilliant talent if we put him beside Mister Wertifloke, whose The Waves Arisen was also suggested by several correspondents. Mister Yudkowsky has put himself on record as believing that Mister Wertifloke, as well as Mister Walker and Mister Solguard, writes his novels in "excellent prose," and this throws for me a good deal of light on Mr. Yudkowsky’s opinions as a critic. I hadn't quite realized before, though I had noted his own rather messy style, to what degree he was insensitive to writing. I do not see how it is possible for anyone with a feeling for words to describe the unappetizing sawdust which Mister Wertifloke has poured into his pages as "excellent prose" or as prose at all except in the sense that distinguishes prose from verse. And here again the book is mostly padding. There is the notion that unregulated use of power would lead to climate disaster and the collapse of modern civilization, but this is embedded in the dialogue and doings of a lot of self-replicating warrior-magicians who are even more tedious than those of Mother of Learning.

The enthusiastic reader of rational stories will indignantly object at this point that I am reading for the wrong things: that I ought not to be expecting good writing, characterization, human interest or even atmosphere. He is right, of course, though I was not fully aware of it till I attempted Project Lawful, considered by connoisseurs one of the best books of two of the masters of this school. This tale I found completely unreadable. The story and the writing both showed a surface so wooden and dead that I could not keep my mind on the page. How can you care about liberating those damned who have never really been put in torment, because the writer hasn't any ability of even the most ordinary kind to persuade you to see them or feel them? How can you probe the the depths of the characters who surround the protagonist, because they are all simply fodder for dramatic irony? It was then that I understood that a true connoisseur of this fiction must be able to suspend the demands of his imagination and literary taste and take the thing as an intellectual widget. But how you arrive at that state of mind is what I do not understand.

In the light of this revelation, I feel that it is probably irrelevant to mention that I enjoyed The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, by Lurina, more than the novels of any of these luminaries. There is a tinge of black magic that gives it a little of the interest of a horror story, and the author has a virtuosity at playing with alternative hypotheses that makes this trick of rational fiction more amusing than it usually is. I want, however, to take up certain points made by some of the above-mentioned articles. Mr. Munchkin informs the non-expert that the rational novel is a kind of game in which the reader of a given story, in order to play properly his hand, should bring his full attention to the stage. Common sense, it seems, is insufficient: the reader must be versed with Bayesian statistics, game theory, artificial intelligence, theory of mind, and modal realism. This may be true, but I shall never qualify. I would rather read golden age detective fiction, which at least does not involve the consumption of hundreds of ill-written blog posts.

An argument leveled by my interlocutors is that contemporary genre fiction has become so vapid, so abstracted or mass-market, that the public have had to take to the rational story as the only department of fiction where verisimilitude survives. This seems to me to involve two fallacies. On the one hand, it is surely not true that “the common authors of today” - to quote Ms. Neocalico - “have often,” in contrast to the authors of the past, “little or no story to tell,” that “they have allowed themselves to be persuaded that continuity is no consideration.” It is true, of course, that urban fantasy and comics - which, I suppose, must be accounted the emptiest going - have their various modern ways of boring and playing tricks on the reader. But how about the dreadful fanon and reinterpretations that one has to get over in HPMOR? The soft-serve science in Worm? The Deus Ex Machina of Unsong, in which the villain surrenders his cause? Is there anything in first-rate popular fiction quite so gratuitous as these longueurs? Even Rowling and Gaiman do certainly have stories to tell, and they have organized their works with an intensity which has been relatively rare in genre fiction and which, to my mind, more than makes up for the occasional arbitrariness of their narratives.

On the other hand, it seems to me—for reasons suggested above—a fantastic misrepresentation to say that the average rational story is an example of good story-telling. The gift for telling stories is uncommon, like other artistic gifts, and the only one of this group of writers—the writers my correspondents have praised—who seems to me to possess it to any degree is Mr. Alexander Wales. Worth the Candle is the only one of these books that I have read all of and read with enjoyment. But Wales, though in the community he’s lauded as a master, does not really belong to this school of rationalist fiction. What he writes is a work of portal fantasy which has less in common with Yudkowsky than with Stephen Donaldson and Michael Ende - the highbrow isekai which has substituted the blue text of numbers going up for the invisible backdrop of psychodrama. It is not simply a question here of a puzzle which has been put together but of an experience conveyed to the reader, the wonder and terror of an otherworld that is continually revealed in all its varied and unlikely forms. To write such a novel successfully you must be able to invent character and incident and to generate atmosphere, and all this Mr. Wales can do. It was only when I got to the end that I felt my old rational-story depression descending upon me again - because here again, as is so often the case, the explanation of the ontological mystery, when it comes, isn’t interesting enough. It fails to justify the excitement produced by the elaborate buildup of picturesque and sinister happenings, and one cannot help feeling cheated.

My experience with this second batch of novels has, therefore, been even more disillusioning than my experience with the first, and my final conclusion is that the reading of rational stories is simply a kind of vice that, for silliness and minor harmfulness, ranks somewhere between LitRPG and xianxia. This conclusion seems borne out by the violence of the letters I have been receiving. Rational-story readers feel guilty, they are habitually on the defensive, and all their talk about "well-written" fanfics is simply an excuse for their vice, like the reasons that the alcoholic can always produce for a drink. One of the letters I have had shows the addict in his frankest and most shameless phase. This lady begins by pretending, like the others, to guide me in my choice, but she breaks down and tells the whole dreadful truth. Though she has read, she says, hundreds of rational stories, "it is surprising," she finally confesses, "how few I would recommend to another. However, a poor rational story is better than none at all. Try again. With a little better luck, you'll find one you admire and enjoy. Then you, too, may be a rationalist."

This letter has made my blood run cold: so the opium smoker tells the novice not to mind if the first pipe makes him sick; and I fall back for reassurance on the valiant little band of my readers who sympathize with my views on the subject. One of these tells me that I have underestimated both the badness of rational stories themselves and the lax mental habits of those who enjoy them. The worst of it is, he says, that the true addict, half the time, never even learns how to be less wrong. The addict reads not to find anything out but merely to get the mild stimulation of a few shows of wits and of the suspense itself of waiting until the protagonist takes over the world. That this strategy of conquest is nothing at all and does not really explain how to systematically win does not matter to such a reader. He has learned from his long indulgence how to connive with the author in the swindle: he does not pay any real attention when the disappointment occurs, he does not think back and check the chain of reasoning, he simply closes the tab and starts another.

To rational-story addicts, then, I say: Please do not write me any more letters telling me that I have not read the right books. And to the seven correspondents who are with me and who in some cases have thanked me for helping them to liberate themselves from a habit which they recognized as wasteful of time and degrading to the intellect but into which they had been bullied by convention and the portentously performed hijacking of Greg Egan and Charles Stross—to these staunch and pure spirits I say: Friends, we represent a minority, but Literature is on our side. With so many fine web novels to be read, so much to be studied and known, there is no need to bore ourselves with this rubbish. And with the URL shortage pressing on all publication and many first-rate writers forced out of the top 100 on Royal Road, we shall do well to discourage the squandering of this wordcount that might be put to better use.

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hellcheeriest · 1 month

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i bet he's never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: We begin to learn of Chrissy's struggle with her sexuality, Eddie makes a big decision in his career, Steve is a sick, sick man (only for eddie munson), platonic!Hellcheer my beloved!! Robin struggles with close proximity to the girl she likes.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.)

A/N: Second Chapter yay! I dont really have much to say other than the fact that i spent like 6 hours straight writing this while getting distracted, and i havent read through this so i apologize for any mistakes or innacuracies you may find. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 4,850+

January, 2023

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy shivered as the cool, mid-winter air infiltrated her room. She’d forgotten to shut her window last night while she was cooking, and the goosebumps on her skin had her shivering with regret. Her radio whispered beside her, the volume purposefully low as to lul her to sleep, an unknown host forecasting the weather.

Chrissy pulled off her sleeping mask, her eyes still closed as she tried to wake fully, letting thoughts of last night's stream come to her. She smiled at the memories from just last night. Gareth and Robin’s banter, Austin’s quiet but witty remarks, Eddie and herself teaming up to embarrass an easily flustered Jeff.

Robin’s raspy laugh filled her foggy brain. The girl had been complaining, again, about how she lacked a girlfriend. It wasn't uncommon, their friend group was her only safe space as a queer person, the area she lived in being a prominently homophobic area.

It made Chrissy feel different, though. She’d known she had always admired the girl, from the top of her brown bob, to the bottom of her cherry red converse, there was nothing about Robin that Chrissy didn’t find she was unable to admire. She was funny, and she was pretty in a way Chrissy hadn’t ever seen or could even describe. She didn’t really know what that meant.

The couple times they’d been able to meet in person were the times when Chrissy admired Robin the most. Seeing her through her eyes first hand instead of through the lens of a camera. They were also the only times she could experience their height difference, Chrissy having to look up just to make eye contact.

Chrissy sighed heavily, bringing her sleep heavy arms up to rub at her eyes. Her alarm clock had gone off minutes ago now, luckily her online classes wouldn’t be disrupted if she slept in, but for her own sake she decided to get up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and startling when her phone began to ring from her bedside table. She groaned, grabbing it and sighing when she sees the caller ID.

“What do you want?” Chrissy grumbled.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Eddie laughed on the other line.

“You always catch me at a bad time.” She smiled despite her light hearted annoyance. “Back to my first question, what do you want?”

“Can you meet me at the diner today, or are you busy?” Eddie asked, breathless, and Chrissy could tell he was getting dressed as they spoke.

“I’m free. Nine o’clock?”

“Nine-thirty?”

“Even better.” Chrissy hummed. “See you then.”

“Bye, Chrissy.” Eddie replied, dragging out the words. Chrissy laughed and hung up, putting her phone back down on her night stand, spending another moment on her bed stretching before getting up.

She padded along the hardwood floor of her apartment to her bathroom. She did her skin care, brushed her teeth and hair, and pulled her russet hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie. She used her finger to press on her signature blue eyeshadow, a few quick strokes of blush and mascara, and a dab of a pink lipstick covered with a cherry lip gloss.

Back in her bedroom, she stalked over to her closet to find her outfit. She went with an oversized and chunky white turtleneck sweater over a green satin skirt that reached the middle of her shin. She grabbed her black, shiny Mary Jane’s and put them on over her frilly, white socks.

Finally she topped off the outfit with her gold ‘16’ necklace, a graduation gift from her parents, before doing a one over of her outfit in the mirror. After confirming with herself that it was good, Chrissy turned around to look at her clock.

9:04AM.

Just enough time to drive to the diner Eddie wanted to meet at. It was across the city they both lived in, but it was Eddie’s favourite and he was paying, so she wouldn’t complain.

Chrissy picked up her phone again to see two new messages. One from Eddie and one from Robin.

ready when u r :)

Rob <3

morning chris! Hope you have a good day <3

Chrissy felt her stomach turn as she read the second message, and she bit her lip as she sent a quick reply. She shoved down the warm feeling in her gut, and typed out a response to Eddie. After it was sent, she put her phone in the sleek pocket of her skirt, and grabbed her purse before she left her apartment. She took the elevator down to the first floor, waving “Hi,” to her neighbours before leaving the building.

Chrissy got to her car and felt her phone buzz against her thigh, the custom notification sound letting her know it was Eddie, and she got in the driver's seat to begin the drive to the diner.

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie stood outside of the diner, his hands in his pockets as the Chicago wind blew through his hair. His nerves made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his fingers fiddled with his rings. It only took minutes for Chrissy’s car to park in the spot in front of Eddie. She got out, and rushed over to Eddie to pull him down into a hug. Eddie laughed as her arms reached up and around his neck, letting his own wrap around her waist. They swayed back and forth for a moment before pulling away enough to press their cheeks together, making an audible “Mwah.”

“It feels like it’s been so long since I saw you in person last.” Chrissy whined as they pulled away completely, grabbing hands and walking into the diner.

“I know,” Eddie smiled down at her. “I missed you, too.”

They waited for a hostess to seat them, and as soon as they were led to a booth and finished ordering their drinks, they burst into conversation. They talked about anything they could, and Eddie found himself purposefully procrastinating the one thing he had partially asked Chrissy to come meet him for. Soon, after their waitress came by and took their order, they ran out of things to talk about, and Eddie knew it was time.

“So,” He started. “How do you think I’d go about… face revealing?” Eddie asked, almost timidly. Chrissy on the other hand was ecstatic.

“You want to face reveal?” She shrieked with a huge smile. Her joy was contagious, and Eddie could feel his own face break into a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal about it.” Eddie hid his smile with a piece of hair.

“But it is a big deal! You finally want to show off that gorgeous face of yours!” Chrissy leant over the table to pinch Eddie’s cheeks to emphasise her words, sitting back down as the waitress returned with their food. Chrissy grabbed a hashbrown off of Eddie’s plate as he took one of her pieces of french toast. “It’s exciting!” She whispered.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie laughed as he cut into his pancakes. “I just… want it to be casual, I think, and I want you to be there.” He stabbed the piece he cut apart with his fork, and shovelled it into his mouth. Chrissy “Awe’d” and smiled with soft eyes at Eddie’s words.

“Well,” Chrissy started. “I guess we’ve got an important stream to plan.”

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Music blasted from the bathroom of Robin’s home. Chappell Roan’s Pink Pony Club could be heard all through the house. Inside, she was singing along as she pulled her eye down to put eyeliner on her waterline.

“Robin! Turn that down!” Her mother shouted and hit her fists against the bathroom door.

“God, Mom, Okay!” She shouted back, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her phone. She turned the volume down, and stared at her home screen. It was a picture of her and Chrissy they had gotten the week their whole friend group decided to meet up for the first time. Her hair was longer, being cut into a short bob now, and Chrissy’s hair was the opposite: shorter than her current length. They looked happy.

Robin sighed as she pulled up her messenger, sending a quick good morning text to Chrissy before putting her phone back down on the counter.

Perhaps she’d been harbouring a crush on the blonde for a long time. Can you blame her? Chrissy was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, funny and devastatingly kind. She hadn't even changed how she acted around her when Robin came out! Which should be the bare minimum, Robin knows this. She just wasn’t used to the amount of acceptance her friends showed.

Only problem? Chrissy was definitely straight. She’d only ever talked about past boyfriends, and never expressed any romantic interest in women. Eddie would tell her not to lose hope, though that was often hard. Plus, she lived like a thousand miles away from each other. They’ve seen each other in person twice since they met four years ago, and long distance relationships almost never work out.

She shook her head to dispel any thought about the girl. She would be going shopping today after getting her paycheck. Working at an old, shitty, video rental store may suck, but it did pay well and she needed to feed her vinyl collection. Hopefully it would be enough to distract her.

STEVE HARRINGTON

“You, your sex is on fire.” Steve heard being sung from the TV. He recognized the voice as the streamer Dustin had taken such a liking to. Steve left his office and walked towards the living room and he could see the stream on the large screen. This time, it was live camera footage that showed a young blonde woman instead of the gameplay he was used to seeing. The man’s, Eddie’s, voice was actually really nice. It was husky and raspy, the clear tenor tone sending shivers down Steve’s spine. Steve leaned on the door frame as he watched and listened.

“The dark of the alley, the breaking of day.” Eddie continued.The girl in the camera seemed to be having a good time, swaying back and forth with the music. Occasionally, she would lay her head on the T-shirt clad shoulder next to her, and a heavily ringed hand would raise up and hold the side of her head.

“Are they dating?” Steve found himself asking. He mentally kicked himself. Why did he care if some random internet personalities were dating?

“Crap! Dad, you startled me!” Dustin clutched at his chest dramatically and Steve shook his head. “No, they’re just really good friends.” He turned down the volume of the TV and Steve came and sat on the couch next to his son.

“Oh, so like you and this Suzie I'm always hearing about?” Steve poked Dustin’s shoulder repeatedly until his son grabbed his wrist.

“Dad!” The boy exclaimed as he flushed red. He turned away and covered his face, and Steve smiled as he rubbed Dustin’s back. The light sound of the blonde girl laughing brought their attention back to the TV.

“Wow, Chris. I can’t believe you’d spread this propaganda about me.” The girl threw her head back and cackled. Steve remembered a ‘Chrissy’ that Dustin was talking about, this must be her. “She just referred to me as a ladies man as if I got any play in high school. I was a theatre kid, Cunningham, try again.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I heard about you during lunch at the cheerleader’s table, Ed.” She reached over, past the camera's view and Steve guessed she was grabbing at Eddie’s head. “If they weren’t waiting for you to ask them out, you would’ve been drowning in bitches.”

“Hardy har har. Yeah, okay.” Two larger hands pushed smaller ones back into frame. “Anyways, guys. We have some big news!” The facecam turned off, and Steve felt Dustin tense next to him. “As some of you might’ve heard, they’re holding a convention in a smaller town in Indiana called Hawkins.

“So, we just wanted to let you all know that me, Chrissy, Robin and the guys are going to be there. So since you’re going to have to see me there, I figured I should…” Eddie’s voice got tense as he spoke, and then the camera turned back on. This time, though, it wasn’t the blonde girl. It was a man.

A man with dark, shoulder-length curls that were frizzy, but nevertheless striking. His skin was pale, and contrasted against the pink of his lips. His eyes were big, and a deep brown, dark enough to where Steve couldn't see a pupil. They were surrounded by long eyelashes and it seemed as though he was wearing eyeliner. The neckline of his shirt was cut and jagged, and exposed his prominent collar bones and the tattoo that lay inked into his skin. He was devastatingly pretty. He smiled, and turned to read the chat that was going a million miles a minute, all messages sharing feelings of shock and awe.

“Thanks, guys. Hoo-kay, I’m shaking. We’re okay, we’re okay.” Eddie pulled his hair behind his shoulders, revealing the plethora of piercings on both ears. “But, yeah. Next month from February twenty-sixth to March 2nd. I’ll be putting more information on my twitter, along with prices.” Chrissy came back into view. Behind Eddie, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Can’t wait to see you guys!” Chrissy exclaimed, and Eddie laughed as he reached up to grab her arms. Steve noticed they had matching bracelets.

“Keep a look out on instagram and twitter, photo dump coming soon.” The two waved at the camera, and sang out a long “Bye,” before they were gone and the stream was over. Steve and Dustin stayed frozen, and Steve knew Dustin was also in shock after seeing Eddie.

Though they were in shock for two different reasons.

“Dad, they’re coming here for a convention! We have to go. Can we? Please?” Dustin pleaded and Steve thought for a moment.

“I’ll see what I can do, bud.” Steve answered and Dustin grinned before running to his room. Steve pulled out his phone and looked for Eddie’s twitter. When he clicked on the account, he found the link in his bio that led to the convention information, and when he scrolled down he found pictures already posted.

Most of them were group photos, with Chrissy, another girl almost the same height as Eddie, as well as three more guys Steve assumed were his other friends. He scrolled down further, and found a post-concert photo with Chrissy. They were both obviously worn out, and Steve found the drastic difference in the way they dressed funny.

Eddie was all leather, and sharp edges, while Chrissy was pink and bubbly.

Steve internally scolded himself for the way his stomach churned when he found a particular photo of Eddie by himself. He was kneeling on a stage, a microphone in one hand, and the other holding the fingers of whoever took the photo. He wore a loose, black fishnet top over a black tank with torn up, black skinny jeans. His hair was messier than he’d seen in the other photos, and his face was slightly flushed in a way that suggested he was probably drunk. He smirked in a smug way that had Steve feeling as if he were a high schooler seeing his hallway crush. At the realisation, he quickly scrolled back to the top of profile and clicked the link, his face red.

He shouldn't be feeling this way about some guy on a screen, much less a twenty-something year old. Steve should know better at his grown age.

He filled out his information, and when looking at the full price he sighed. He could already hear his wallet begging for mercy.

—

TIME SKIP

—

February 2023

EDDIE MUNSON

This was crazy.

Just a month ago did he live stream his face to the internet which sparked creativity in the artistic part of his group of fans. He was tagged in a bunch of drawing’s of him, as well as video edits to quite suggestive audios. It was strange, Eddie thought, to be praised like this for your appearance. But, if he was honest, he wasn't complaining.

Now, he was mentally preparing for the convention. Eddie wasn’t entirely a social person, he’d much rather be with his circle of friends and maybe a few others. This was an entirely different level. He sat on the bed in the hotel room he and Austin would be sharing. Jeff and Gareth were in the room across from them and Robin and Chrissy’s room were down the hall. The last pair excited Eddie.

Robin often confided in him when she was especially upset about her situation, and Eddie could sympathise. Falling for straight people was never fun. But, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure that Chrissy was straight. He never pressed her on the issue though. Poor girl. She’ll never know what hit her.

Robin had been accidentally flirting with the girl since they arrived in Hawkins, and Eddie had to stifle laughter when it backfired. Robin would shoot him a glare and a lighthearted middle-finger.

Chrissy didn’t seem to catch on despite her array of ex-boyfriends that probably acted the same way around her before they dated. Though, Eddie guessed he couldn’t blame her. Robin’s attempts at flirting could be compared to the sight of a dumpster fire.

Eddie sighed and laid back on his bed, bored and left without anything to do. Not like he really wanted to do anything. Flying sucked, he hated aeroplanes and he was always left exhausted after taking one.

But he was also insanely hungry. He could probably order in but he did not feel like talking over the phone and Hawkins seemed like a pretty old-fashioned town so god knows if any of the restaurants here have any apps he could use. Whatever. Eddie sighed before he walked over to the door and pulled on his converse and tucked the laces into the sides of his shoes. He grabbed his room key and left to try and find some damn lunch

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

She couldn’t do it.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the single bed that was in her and Robin’s shared room. She hadn’t seen Robin for a year and a half, and so far everything has been great! But Robin makes her nervous in ways she can’t explain. She didn’t have much more time to think as the door burst open to reveal the taller girl holding all of her bags in her arms and her phone in her mouth. She quickly dropped the bags and took her phone out of her mouth. She was completely out of breath as she reached into her pockets to pull out her inhaler.

“Oh my god, Robin!” Chrissy rushed over, picking up a couple of Robin's bags and bringing them further into the room.

“Hey, Chris.” Robin said, still exasperated, and her wispy tone made Chrissy shiver. She reached up and pulled Robin into a hug. “Missed you.” Robin whispered into Chrissy’s hair as she returned the embrace.

“You just saw me like, ten minutes ago!” Chrissy laughed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“I know.” Robin replied as she pulled away, still slightly out of breath.

“Did you run up here? What happened?”

“Apparently the elevator shut down after you guys got up here, so I had to take the stairwell with all my bags.” Robin whined as she walked over to the bed and flopped down onto the mattress. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed the fact there was only one bed, yet.

“Um, so,” Chrissy started. “We only have one bed in here.” Robin lifted her head and looked to the other side of the room, then back to Chrissy.

“O-oh.” Robin bit her lip nervously. “I could sleep on the couch if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Chrissy almost yelped. “I mean, no. That’s fine! It’s big enough for us to share.” She was sure her cheeks were bright pink. She got on the bed next to Robin, the other girl sitting up.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Robin rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m perfectly comfortable sleeping next to you Robbie, I promise.” Chrissy said sincerely, grabbing Robin’s hand and holding it softly. She looked up at Robin, and took this time to admire her the same way she had so many times before.

Robin didn’t often stream with her camera on, and she didn’t facetime the group so Chrissy didn’t get to see her face much. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved Robin's features.

Her soft skin that was splattered with light brown freckles she wanted to count, her soft jawline and the thin dark circles underneath her gorgeous eyes. Then there was her hair. Her soft, wavy locks that Chrissy constantly wanted to run her fingers through if the other would let her.

"Hey, did you think we could see if one of the guys would pay for our lunches?" Robin said, a grin on her face. Chrissy giggled and squeezed Robin's hand.

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Chrissy smiled deviously and the two left Robin's belongings to be unpacked later. Right now, they had some boys to mooch off of.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Oh boy.

It was one day away from the first day of the convention Steve hesitantly bought tickets for. He and Dustin were all set to see the panel Eddie and his friends would be at and Steve’s bank account was about to kick the bucket. Dustin was excited, though, and that was all Steve needed to know that this was worth it.

He couldn’t lie, this was slightly for him too. Ever since he’d laid eyes on the man Dustin called his idol, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Steve’s known for a while that he liked guys. Before Dustin was born, he’d even dated a few, but he’s not sure he’s felt this way in a long time just based on someone's looks. The critical part of his mind scolded him.

'This is your son's favourite streamer you're thinking about!'

'His looks might deceive him. He could be a total douche.'

'Is he really all that?'

Yes. Eddie really was 'all that.' His personality was large and he was really, really attractive.

'He probably has a girlfriend. You don't even know if he likes guys.'

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would have to start on dinner soon for Dustin, Dustin's "friend" Suzie, and himself soon. He could contemplate this all later. Maybe tomorrow at the convention, but hopefully not ever again. He stood up from his chair in his office and closed his computer. He walked down the hallway and all that could be heard was the tv in Dustin's room.

Suspicious.

He walked further and leaned closer to Dustin's door that sat open by three inches. After another moment Steve pushed the door open fully to see Suzie tucked into Dustin's side as they lay on his bed, seemingly watching a movie.

"Dad! What the hell!" The two jumped and Suzie gripped onto Dustin's shirt.

"Calm down Dustin, I'm just asking what you guys want for dinner." Dustin was red with embarrassment and Suzie just snickered.

"Whatever's fine, dad." He answered. "And learn to knock!" He shouted on Steve's way out. Steve snorted and made his way to the kitchen now with three things on his mind.

Whatever was going on between his son and this girl. (Which he totally predicted, by the way.)

What he was making for dinner.

An insanely pretty streamer he was probably too old to be gawking over.

Dinner was only going a little awkwardly. Suzie sat quietly, eating the quiche Steve had made. Dustin glared at his father from across the circular table and Steve tried his hardest not to make a face back.

"So, Suzie. How's school been for you?" Steve asked as he fiddled with his fork.

"Dad." Dustin groaned.

"What?" Steve drew out the 'a.' "I'm just asking how her classes are."

"Well, my grades are just fine. I enjoy my academics a lot actually! I only wish I could say the same for Dusty." She smiled at the boy whose face dropped.

"Snitch!" Dustin accused and Suzie laughed, Dustin's scowl softened at the sight before it hardened and he turned to his father. "Don't listen to a word she says," Dustin pointed a fork at Steve who threw his hands up.

"Alright, alright. Finish your dinner so you can have time to wind down before you go to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow." Dustin smiled before starting to scarf down his food as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"Slow down, Dusty!" Suzie squealed. She was a good match for him, Steve thought.

At least Dustin had Suzie.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Lord have mercy.

The girls had come back from a nice lunch, courtesy of Austin who was the only one willing to do them a solid and pay for their food, and things were calm until the sun went down. They’d found a pizza place and called for delivery. It was good, Robin found, but she’d had better back in Miami.

After that, they’d flipped through the few channels the hotel TV offered and Chrissy began her nightly routine of a simple skin care routine and brading of her hair. Then, she would join Robin under the covers. She wore a mint green silk pyjama set, a spaghetti strapped tank top and shorts that ended before her mid thigh, and Robin felt under dressed in her wife beater and Archie sweatpants.

The only light spared was from the lamp that sat on Robin's side of the bed she was almost scared to turn it off. If she did, it would really seem like it was just her and Chrissy.

"Are you totally sure you're comfortable with me? I mean, I've been told I'm a pretty clingy sleeper. I wouldn't want you to wake up with me-" Robin started rambling before Chrissy stepped in.

"Rob! I already promised." Chrissy's eyes were drooping and Robin could tell she was really to pass the fuck out. Robin smiled fondly, brushing Chrissy's bangs from her face and pulling the blankets up further. "You know, you're really pretty." Chrissy sleepily admitted. Robin stared in shock for a moment.

"Y-you think?"

"Uh huh," She pulled a hand out of the covers and laid it on Robin's cheek. "Super pretty." Chrissy smiled and brought her hand back to her chest before swiftly falling asleep.

‘Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret.’ Robin thought. She brought her palm to the same cheek Chrissy had just touched and she felt how much her face had heated up. God, she probably looked like a lovesick fool, but she couldn't even judge herself for that when she laid her eyes upon Chrissy's sleeping figure. She looked so at peace. Quite often she was riddled with anxiety or happiness, both that made her constantly fidgeting or moving around. Now, she was still and sound. Robin fought herself to take a mental photo, wanting to remember this sight forever. Wanting to wake up to this sight forever.

Reluctantly, Robin rolled to lay on her back. She never slept well on her side. She turned the lamp out finally and soon enough her own eyes became heavy with sleep, and she herself would also succumb to sleep.

The next sound Robin would hear would be the screech of her ringtone and Chrissy's groan from next to her. Robin reached to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was Eddie, that bastard.

"Eddie?"

"Woah, morning Robin." Eddie seemed pretty awake for... Ten in the morning. "Just wanted to make sure you two were awake. I'm guessing you weren't until just now."

"Yeah, asshole. I had an alarm set for eleven." Robin whined and Chrissy yawned from beside her.

"Okay, well I wanted us to all meet up for brunch before the panel. So get ready and meet us in the lobby by eleven-thirty. Okay? Okay." Eddie hung up before Robin could intervene.

"He is such a prick," Robin groaned and set her phone back down. Chrissy giggles as she rubs her eyes.

"That's Eddie, alright." Chrissy sighed. She sat up and stretched out her arms. Robin had to stop herself from staring at the slight muscle the former cheerleader still had. She sat up as well, much to her dismay. "I," Chrissy swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing up. "Am going to have a shower. You want me to be quick so you can have one too?"

"If you wouldn't mind. I could always wait until after we hang out with the guys too." Robin said as she walked over to the small vanity and started to brush her hair.

"Oh, Robin. You are a gift from god." Chrissy responded as she approached the taller and left a kiss on her cheek before scurrying away to the small bathroom of the hotel room. Robin simply froze. This girl had no idea what she was doing to her.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

#steddie #buckingham #steve x eddie #robin x chrissy #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fanfic #fanfiction #steddie au #steve harrington au #eddie munson au #modern au

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7grandmel · 3 months

Text

Todays rip: 12/02/2024

V-v-v-v-v-a-V-v-v-v-v-v-r

Season 6 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume DQ

Rip credited to "Green Monika Takeover"

youtube

Requested by crickqt! (Discord)

If you're truly deep in the trenches of SiIvaGunner like I am, then over the course of reading all of these blog posts, you may have noticed a rather...curious omission from my coverage. I've covered jokes both obscure and relevant, storylines big and small, rips of every part of the spectrum from Outertale to Loopdeloop Griddy to Sex - Steve Harvey. Yet all of these have one thing in common: They're all from within the SiIvaGunner channel. And as should perhaps be expected, SiIvaGunner is far from the only place where high quality ripping occurs nowadays.

SiIvaGunner was, of course, not an entirely original concept to begin with - mashups using video game music have existed for ages, and Chaze the Chat himself has made it no secret that the channel was an evolution of a subculture from SoundCloud, inspired heavily by the works of toonlink, as I mentioned back in Aphex. Yet the channel certainly carved out its own niche and style: its presentation as bait-and-switch mimicry of the actual GilvaSunner channel, paired with the mysterious insistence on full anonymity of each rip's creator, gave SiIvaGunner its own feel, one that it would only further refine as the fanbase grew and lore began to develop. For those first nine months, there was nothing else on YouTube like SiIvaGunner.

Yet when the channel's true "ending" was announced in the last quarter of 2016, near the end of Season 1, several people were distraught to see it go after just a few months. And keep in mind, it took until February of 2017 to get any sort of confirmation that SiIvaGunner was actually going to be sticking around beyond occasional events - and before November 2016, we didn't even know if the channel would return at all. So it comes as no surprise that, on October 1st 2016, we'd see the birth of the first true "fan channel" aiming to continue SiIvaGunner's legacy - TimmyTurnersGrandDad. And even as SiIva returned, TTGD grew to form a fanbase of its own, its own smaller community, with many of SiIva's rippers even contributing different things to both channels in parallel.

I'll be completely earnest with you all - the reason I haven't covered fan channels on this blog before is due purely to my own lack of experience with them. I've been glued stuck to SiIva alone since 2016, and the rabbitholes of the various fan channels simply appear too vast and deep to go down the same way I myself do here on this blog for the main channel. But, TTGD aside, there is one fan channel that deserves special mention, one that has quite often intermingled with SiIvaGunner itself and has such an immediately recognizable identity from all others - the namesake of V-v-v-v-v-a-V-v-v-v-v-v-r itself, Vvvvvavvvvvvr.

To put it concisely, while TTGD aimed to initially be a SiIvaGunner successor, then moved to be more of a SiIvaGunner alternative, the nature of the Vvvvvavvvvvvr channel has always been a fair bit more...dubious. You'll notice it just from clicking on the channel yourself - everything from the profile picture, to the header, to the titles and thumbnails of the videos uploaded to the channel have a far more chaotic, unpolished, almost "trashy" feel to them. This is because, with little exception, Vvvvvavvvvvvr aims to be almost entirely unfiltered - with minimal quality control and a submission process open to anyone, its effectively a big sandbox for rippers of all skill levels to submit to, the output almost best described as the SiIvaGunner equivalent Twitch Plays Pokémon. And much like that phenomenon, Vvvvvavvvvvvr somehow, through the unfiltered voices of hundreds of contributors, managed to find its own voice, its own set of recurring jokes, and eventually develop its own lore to tie it all together.

References to Vvvvvavvvvvvr aren't exactly a rarity on SiIvaGunner, either. The YTPMV Rock my Forum, as featured on LAST YTPMV^2 OF 2016 by ripper Xarlable, eventually took off as Vvvvvavvvvvvr's primary channel meme; almost every time the meme has been referenced on SiIvaGunner since, has been in tribute of the fan channel. V-v-v-v-v-a-V-v-v-v-v-v-r, then, is no exception - uploaded during the period of which the Vvvvvavvvvvvr had supposedly ended for good, its a loving tribute to just about every joke featured prominently on the channel, in the form of an incredibly varied medley rip. Scatman John, Reese's Puffs Rap, The Michael Rosen Rap, Chadtronic, Rock My Forum - its not as if these memes have never been featured on SiIvaGunner before, but they're (to my understanding!) such core parts of Vvvvvavvvvvvr in particular, that their usage in combination here makes the tribute's intentions clear.

As if that wasn't clear enough, certain segments of the fast-paced C-R-O-W-N-E-D are dedicated to referencing specific Vvvvvavvvvvvr rips (formally "vips") on an individual basis. A section using sentence-mixed AVGN clips, for instance, uses the same clips, sentence mixed in a similar fashion, as Crazy Bus Tylenol. There's references like this strewn all about this dense medley, yet as many in the comments have made clear - none of them get in the way of V-v-v-v-v-a-V-v-v-v-v-v-r just being a fantastic rip on its own, without any context or knowledge of the fan channel itself.

While I don't fall into that category in particular, as I'm of course aware of the fan channels that are more active now than ever - I am still very much an outsider. Yet I've once again been privy to take a peek down the rabbithole through this request, and I learned a lot about Vvvvvavvvvvvr as a result: Its a genuinely valuable platform with a fun and zany community, however small it may appear from the outside looking in. The near complete lack of filter or quality control means that anyone, even you reading, could submit something to the channel, a first step toward a great ripper's journey - a good number of SiIvaGunner's members who first joined around 2018-2021 got their start by contributing things to fan channels just like Vvvvvavvvvvvr. And though I may never become a full-on fan to the same degree I am SiIva itself, I'm of course eternally grateful and happy for their existence - through collaboration and teamwork, these channels help keep the art of high quality ripping alive.

#todays siivagunner #season 6 #siivagunner #siiva #ripper unknown #Green Monika Takeover #vvvvvavvvvvvr #siivagunner fanchannel #timmyturnersgranddad #ttgd #kirby #kirby crowned #c-r-o-w-n-e-d #kirby music #kirby return to dreamland #Youtube #Bandcamp

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sam-loves-seb · 1 month

Note

I’ve read your Several Sentences Sunday post an embarrassing number of times. I’m just that excited for the next chapter of I’m Not The Way I Was.

aw thanks so much, this is so sweet. i'm so glad you're excited about i'm not the way i was. i am too!

also gonna use this ask to say that unfortunately there will be no new chapter today :( there are a few parts i'm still playing with because i wanna get them right, and life's just been too chaotic lately to actually give ch 6 the time and attention it needs. i am hopeful that posting will resume in two weeks and we can get back to the regular update schedule. fingers crossed!

until then, i'm posting the first thousand-ish words of ch 6 under the cut to hopefully hold everyone over until then. (it's unedited and unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.)

enjoy. xx

Ian wakes up in Lip’s dorm room. Again.

The alarm clock is blaring at full volume, and Lip kicks Ian in the shins until he’s conscious enough to reach over and shut it off.

“What fucking time is it?” Lip groans into his pillow.

“Eight-thirty.” Ian yawns.

“I don’t have class ‘til eleven,” Lip says as he pulls his pillow out from under his head and whacks Ian in the face with it.

Ian shoves him off. “Yeah, but I have work at nine.”

That’s part of the reason Ian was able to drag himself away from Mickey’s house last night. He took a cab back to CPU in the middle of the night after he got off Mickey’s block and realized he had to be up in six hours for work. He could’ve stayed at the house and taken the L back to campus in the morning, but he was so wired after his talk with Mickey last night that he used the cab ride to tire himself out.

Which ultimately wasn’t that successful because he spent most of the ride texting Mickey and planning their first date. He even called him as he walked across the green to Lip’s dorm and listened to Mickey’s raspy voice, half asleep and smiling on the other end of the line as they decided on a date and time.

Tonight. Seven o’clock.

“Next time you go to your boyfriend’s house, stay there ‘til the morning,” Lip teases, grabbing his hoodie from the floor and sliding it on over his bedhead.

Ian gave him the one-sentence-summary of his conversation with Mickey when his bleary-eyed brother opened the door for him at two-thirty last night. He did not, in any way, shape, or form, use the word boyfriend, but Lip doesn’t seem to care.

“Yeah yeah,” Ian says with a quiet smile, pulling on a fresh t-shirt he steals from Lip’s dresser. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair tonight.”

Lip reaches over and plucks at the eight-ball design on the front of the threadbare cotton shirt. “You staying at Mickey’s?”

“No,” Ian answers automatically, then pauses. His hands go still where they’re half buried in his backpack. “Well. I don’t know.”

Lip just raises his brows at him as he sits down in his desk chair.

“Is that a normal first date thing?” Ian asks, his brows pinched. “To sleep over?”

“Why are you asking me?” Lip asks, tapping out a cigarette from Ian’s pack.

“’cause you’ve done this shit before.”

Lip cracks the window and lights up. “Only one of us has dated Mickey Milkovich before, and it wasn’t me.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but…” He shakes his head. “You know, Mickey and I never went on dates.”

Lip pauses. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Ian says, shrugging. “And I wanna do this right. I don’t know what the… etiquette is.”

Lip takes a long drag and sort of tilts his head from side to side. “I doubt Mickey does either.”

Something about that settles the little ball of anxiety that was slowly starting to build in Ian’s chest. Because Lip’s right—neither of them know what the hell they’re doing with this shit.

Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen, but at least it puts them on an even playing field.

“Look,” Lip says, leaning over and clapping Ian on the shoulder. “Just feel it out. If things are going well, maybe suggest it, see what he says.”

Ian nods. “Yeah.”

Lip squeezes his shoulder. “Just talk to him about it. Okay?” He leans back in his chair. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Ian breathes out a long exhale. “Okay.”

The panicked nerves inside of him start to turn into an excited buzz after a minute. He’s definitely still nervous, but it doesn’t feel as heavy. Suddenly he desperately wants it to be seven o’clock, and he’s walking over to the Alibi to pick Mickey up for their date.

The fact that Ian has to work an eight-hour janitorial shift between now and then is criminal.

“You know I’m rooting for you,” Lip starts, “but in the off chance you don’t end up staying at Mickey’s house tonight—are you coming back here?”

“Nah,” Ian tells him, shaking his head. “Figured I’d stay at the house. Last night, and all that.”

“Oh, right,” Lip says. He blinks tiredly, a little dazed. “Forgot about that.”

Ian finishes packing his shit in his bag. “Bank’s coming to change the locks tomorrow.”

Lip taps his fingers against the edge of his desk. “I think I still have some shit in my room. Maybe tomorrow morning… I mean, I have work, but I can probably catch the L early and come home to get it before—”

“I already boxed it up,” Ian tells him, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I put it with my shit, so you can come get it whenever. Kev and V said we could move our stuff to their place until we figure out where we’re gonna go.”

Lip nods. “Thanks.”

“Yep.”

With a heavy sigh, Lip turns in his chair and opens one of his textbooks, flipping through the pages until he finds the folded sheet of notes he crammed in it yesterday.

“What are you doing?” Ian asks, tying his sneakers. “You said you don’t have class ‘til eleven. Go back to bed.”

“No, I gotta get this done,” Lip says, glancing at the clock. “I won’t have time to do it later, I have a… thing.”

Ian raises a brow. “A thing?”

“Yeah.”

When Lip doesn’t expand on it, Ian crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t care. What’s your thing?”

Lip sighs. “Alright,” he says, dropping his pencil. “You know that professor I told you about?”

“The one you’re sleeping with?”

Lip nods. “The school board kind of found out about it when this naked picture I took of her leaked online.”

“Jesus Christ, Lip,” Ian says, his mouth dropping open.

“I didn’t leak it,” Lip says, then shakes his head. “Long story—whatever. They know, and now I gotta go to this fucking hearing about it.”

Ian stares at him with worried eyes. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Can’t they kick you out for this?”

Lip considers it, then shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Ian blinks. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Lip scrubs his hands over his face. “So now I’ve got that to worry about, and Helene’s career is under fire over something that shouldn’t have been anyone else’s business in the first place.”

Ian’s lips quirk up. “Helene?”

Lip kicks at his knee. “Shut up.”

“You’ve never told me her name before.”

“Yeah, well. That’s when I thought we could keep this whole thing on the down low.”

Ian hums in agreement.

“Anyway,” Lip says, running his finger over the corner of the page in his textbook. “I gotta read this.”

“Yeah, I gotta head out,” Ian says, standing up with his backpack on one shoulder still. “Good luck today.”

Lip waves halfheartedly. “You too.”

Ian makes a confused face as he walks backwards to the door.

Lip smiles. “With your date.”

“Right,” Ian says, and he can’t help but smile too.

“Give Mickey my love.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

...more to come!

[ read from the chapter 1 on ao3 ]

#intwiw #no new chapter today loves my bad :(#i feel really bad about it but #sometimes live is just busy as fuck #anyway #here's a snippet #i'm not the way i was #ask sam

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shig-a-shig-ah · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ━ DEFINING THE RELATIONSHIP

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader » story summary: working as a waitress in a villain bar means you meet all sorts of shady people. But when a random encounter piques your interest in a nameless stranger, a casual hookup turns into more than you bargained for. » chapter word count: 7.1k » read the full chapter on ao3

[ Excerpt ]

When you gave Kurogiri cash to clear the League out of your apartment, you knew better than to hope telling him to get everyone out of there fast would translate to getting them out of there immediately. Even so, you can't help feeling the slightest bit put upon when, later that same afternoon, you're climbing the stairs back up to your apartment after spending yet more money on your unwanted guests. Three thousand yen for soba noodles and cigarettes is a drop in the bucket compared to what you'd forked over only hours earlier, but it does somehow feel like a less worthwhile investment.

Perhaps that's why, despite not expecting any real updates, you can't help asking Kurogiri if there's any news as you hand off your grocery bag so he can start dinner. It's both a surprise and a relief when he nods.

"I still need to discuss it with Shigaraki Tomura, but Giran believes he has found an option for us." There's a slight hesitation before he adds, "He is unable to meet with us until morning, however."

"I'll take it," you sigh. You should have known better than to get your hopes up anyway. Even if you had, for half a second, let yourself daydream about sleeping blissfully alone tonight.

You're not going to complain about the delay, though—not when it sounds like the end is finally in sight. So, you just turn your attention elsewhere, digging into your pocket for the couple packs of American Spirits you'd begrudgingly bought Jin. He hadn't actually asked for them, but he's currently on your couch, fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh and eyes flicking restlessly towards your balcony, all of which supports your concerns about nicotine withdrawals.

Sure enough, he jumps to his feet almost immediately when you toss the packs his way. "Hey, thanks!" It's followed by, "I didn't ask you for nothing!"

You wince at the unnecessary volume with which he shouts both those statements but don't otherwise respond, because Jin's cigarettes weren't the only thing burning a hole in your pocket. Playing the lottery this close to home is generally something you avoid, but you hadn't been able to talk yourself out of it today—not after sacrificing half your life's savings to the very necessary cause of getting Japan's most wanted villains out of your apartment. You hadn't won big, exactly, but you do feel a little better knowing you're a tenth of the way to recouping that cash.

The plan is to slip into your room and deposit that tidy sum into the shoebox in your closet, too, but you barely manage to ease the door open before freezing. Because as it turns out, Tomura is no longer passed out on your bed but is, in fact, awake.

Awake, and half-naked.

"Oh." You blink at the sight of him, bare-chested with his fingers hovering at the waistband of his jeans as he looks at you. It's a scene so uncannily familiar that it's almost disorienting: how many times had you fallen a few steps behind him after getting back to your place, only to enter your bedroom and find him impatiently undressing?

Between the distraction of the League and your focus on the substantive parts of your relationship, you've barely thought about those more carnal foundations over the last several days. Now, though, your stomach is fluttering, your body ready to fall into that familiar script even as you grasp for an alternate explanation for what you've walked in on.

After another second your brain catches up, your eyes finally taking in all the signs that he wasn't actually waiting for you. His hair is damp, rivulets of water threading over his collarbone as he watches you from behind mussed clumps of pale hair, expression uncertain. You've clearly caught him fresh out of the shower.

"Sorry," you mutter, hesitating before stepping inside and closing the door. "No one told me you were up."

This shouldn't feel so awkward—you've seen each other naked dozens of times, let alone merely shirtless—but at this point it would probably be easier to count the things that don't feel awkward. That's especially true after yesterday; you haven't forgotten how close you'd come to kissing him.

You must not be the only one feeling the weight of that, either. Tomura grunts in response and looks away, quickly finishing doing up his jeans and digging a v-neck from a duffel bag at the foot of your bed. You grimace when he tugs it hastily over his head; the movement reveals dark bruises along his exposed ribs that you can only assume are the aftermath of his fight with the heroes.

He quickly pulls down the hem of his shirt when he catches you eyeing those injuries.

"Where'd you go?" he asks, looking you over with a guarded expression. Then he frowns. "And what happened to your hand?"

"Hmm?" You follow his gaze to your bandaged palm. You'd almost forgotten about it in your surprise, but now that you're not distracted by the unexpected cut of Tomura's form, you can once again feel that souvenir from Dabi throbbing.

You're hesitant to explain what actually happened. Tomura might not be as tightly wound as he was when the League first arrived, but you haven't forgotten how badly he took it when Dabi did nothing but insult you. The last thing you need is more in-fighting; between your ceiling and your front door, your place already has enough new scorch marks. You'd really like to get everyone out of here without any more hassle.

So, you just move to stash the cash you'd won. "Don't worry about it. And I went to the store—Kurogiri needed some things for dinner, and Jin needed cigarettes."

Tomura scoffs at that last part. "You didn't have to do that."

"I definitely did," you scoff right back. "You haven't been out there with them all day—they're all already restless. The last thing I need is one more reason for anyone to be on edge."

"Right." You don't miss the way his gaze drops back to your hand as he says it. "Add it to what we owe you, then—we'll have to find a way to bring in some cash soon anyway. Won't get very far towards our goals without it." He pauses. Rubs at his neck and grumbles, "We just need to figure out a safe house first."

"Kurogiri wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

It's almost impressive how quickly his demeanor shifts—his fingers go still at his throat and his eyes narrow, expression flattening into something decidedly more business-like. That intent look sparks a twist in your stomach as he moves to shoulder past you, because you find it all too easy to picture how the rest of the evening will go now—Tomura learning about the safe house and turning his attention back to planning whatever comes next, spending the next many hours hunched over his laptop the way he has every other night. That singular focus hasn't been particularly noteworthy until now, but you're all too aware of what it means in this case: that this might actually be the last time the two of you are alone together before he leaves.

"Tomura, wait," you start, reaching to grab his arm, but you're a half-second too late. He's already ducking back out into into the main room of your apartment

After letting out a resigned sigh, you follow.

Continue reading on AO3

Taglist: @dabisqueen @kiwiimochi @simultaneously-sick-and-calm @ohsochoso @vngelis @tomurastrashpanda @evilmortytrapremix @nonobadcat @nao-cchi @sunasb3tch @chaos-night @toughbook @xxjesshuxx @lawfulrhi @doomsthotstash @sukiirei

#it's finally here y'all!#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x oc #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x oc #shigaraki fanfic #shigaraki smut #bnha reader insert #atbi #ch. 29 #ghuleh.writes

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seidenbros · 1 year

Text

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Hawkins 2001

Steve looked up from the book he was holding in his hands when he heard a knock on the door. It was a late Saturday afternoon and he’d already prepared everything for school the next week, so he had some time to read and catch up on the list of books Eddie had once written for him. When he got up, he adjusted his hearing aid, because he’d turned the volume down a little bit before he’d sat down. While on his way, he pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Hopper?” Steve asked, visibly surprised to see the Chief stand in front of his door. Immediately, his heart dropped, because it couldn’t be a good sign that he was standing there.

“Hey Steve, I’m sorry to disturb you, but uh… there’s something I need to talk to you about. Actually, I should talk to Eddie, but he’s still on tour, isn’t he?”

Steve nodded. It was the last night of Corroded Coffin’s tour, and if it hadn’t been in Detroit, he would have gone, but at least he’d been there at the opening night of the tour in Indianapolis. The last night also meant that the band would be coming home tomorrow, and Steve couldn’t wait to wrap his arms around Eddie again, bury his nose in the crook of his lover’s neck and just hold him tight for some time.

“Yeah, but this couldn’t wait.” Hopper glanced back at his pickup, but everything Steve could see from afar was a head of dark locks in the passenger seat that made his heart drop immediately.

“Her name is Janis and she was brought here just a couple of hours ago from Indianapolis.” Hoppe rubbed a hand over his grey beard before he looked at Steve again. “Her mother died in an accident a few days ago, but it took some time to figure out that-”

“Eddie is her father,” Steve stated matter of factly, not taking his eyes off the car. His heart started beating faster.

“Yes. She’s ten and her mother’s name was Rose Walker.”

Steve let out a breath of relief, because for a moment, he’d thought that Eddie had cheated on him. But after Vecna and everything, they’d gone separate ways for some time, trying their hardest to be on their own, but about nine years ago, they’d finally admitted to themselves and to each other that they couldn’t be without the other one. Ever since then, they’d moved in together, had celebrated Steve becoming a teacher, had been there for Dustin’s wedding and so many other weddings. They were happy, so Steve was really glad that it had happened before their time. But he wasn’t happy that this little girl had lost her mother.

“I know she’s safe with you.” Hopper waited for Steve to look at him again. “I can take her back to the station, find a family she can stay with until Eddie comes back and tell him all this, but-”

“No. No, don’t. She needs a proper warm home, especially after just losing her mother.” While Steve hadn’t lost his parents, it sure felt like it, because they had never been there for him, and after he’d come out to them, they hadn’t wanted anything to do with him anymore. But the warmth of his found family, the acceptance of Wayne Munson, all that had helped him so much. “I will call Eddie after the concert later and let him know. Probably better when he hears that from me.”

It would be a shock no matter what, but Steve was hoping that he could soften the blow a little. Not about that Eddie had a kid at all, but that he hadn’t known about this.

“Okay. She hasn’t eaten anything today, but she’s a really lovely little girl. And she loves to talk.”

“Just like her Dad,” Steve said with a smile that elicited a chuckle out of the Chief who turned around just to get Janis from the car.

She was holding a big plush dinosaur to her chest as she walked up to Steve. Unruly curls and big brown eyes staring up at him. It was like a mini version of Eddie staring up at him.

“You must be Janis,” Steve said with the brightest smile he could muster, tilting his head to the side, he reached out his hand to smooth it down over the dinosaur’s head. “And who is your companion?”

“Arthur!” she said with a confident grin, showing Steve that he’d taken the right approach. Hopper left them alone to retrieve Janis’ bag from the car.

“That’s an interesting name. How did you come up with that?”

“‘Cause of the Legend of Camelot!” Definitely Eddie’s daughter, no question about it.

“Oh that is so cool! Your Dad has a dragon plushie that he called Merlin. I bet they’ll get along well.”

“No way!”

“Oh yes, I’ll show him to you!” Steve took the bag from Hopper and promised him to call if anything came up, if anything happened.

“Do you want to stay here,” Steve asked Janis before Hopper left them and she nodded vigorously. Hopper had already talked to her, had explained the situation to her, and that Steve was a really nice guy, that he worked with children, so she felt safe with him.

“Good. Then let’s get you settled in and then we’ll make something for dinner. You must be hungry.” Steve led her up the stairs where the bedrooms were. There was one guest room that he took her to, the bigger one of both guest rooms, the one where Robin stayed whenever they were having a movie night or something.

Big eyes scanned the room, but there was a smile on Janis’ lips that made Steve calm down a bit more.

“Just have a look around, okay? I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen and make some food. If you need anything just let me know, okay?” Steve waited for her to nod before he spoke up again. “What’s your favourite food?”

Janis thought for a moment, stuck her tongue between her lips while she did so, and Steve was once again reminded of Eddie.

“Spaghetti!”

“Spaghetti it is then,” Steve told her with a grin before he went down the stairs and into the kitchen. While the water was beginning to boil, he reached for his mobile phone and hovered over the call button for a moment, but thought better of it. It was no use to call Eddie right now, that would only ruin the last concert, because Eddie would be too preoccupied. Instead, Steve opted for writing a message.

Steve couldn’t help but smile when he put the phone away and concentrated on cooking so that Janis and him would have something to eat later on. And as if she’d smelled it, she came down the stairs right when Steve was finished loading up the plates.

“Everything alright?” he asked, pulling the chair out for her so that she could sit down. He poured them two tall glasses of water as well before he sat down opposite her.

“Mhm… just hungry,” she managed to say, biting her bottom lip.

“Then dig in sweetheart, there is plenty left, so if you’re still hungry after that, you can get some more.” Steve winked at her before he started to eat, showing her that it was alright to start eating. He had no idea what it had been like in her life before, but he was sure he would find out sooner or later. So far, he only knew that her mother had died, but that told him nothing about the life Janis had led so far. She looked good, healthy, had clean clothes, and she was a very open child, so he was pretty sure that she’d been raised in a loving home, but maybe Eddie could tell him a little more about Rose.

“Is it good?” Steve asked after a bit, and when Janis held up her thumb with a giggle, he was more than relieved. One because she enjoyed the food, two because she seemed to feel good in his presence. Still Steve’s mind was reeling, because he still had to tell Eddie.

When they were finished, Steve turned on the TV for Janis. Now, he wasn’t usually a fan of parking kids in front of the TV, but right now, he needed that. They weren’t used to each other, everything was new for her, and Steve had to clean the kitchen and collect himself a little. And to be honest, Janis didn’t even pay much attention to the TV. In fact, her eyes fell shut again and again, but she tried to stay awake.

When Steve was finished, he found her half asleep on the sofa, and he smiled. Gently, he pried the TV remote from her hand and turned it off, before he carefully gathered the little girl in his arms and carried her upstairs. Janis nuzzled her nose into the crook of Steve’s neck and clung onto him. It was good that she already trusted him that much only after a couple of hours, but Steve understood that. She was seeking out love, and he was giving it to her willingly with all his heart.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered to her when he lay her down on the bed and pulled the covers up. “I’ll just get you a little something, alright?”

Janis nodded, already pulling Arthur close while Steve just quickly hopped out of the room only to return with the big brown and green dragon Eddie had stashed away in the wardrobe.

“Here… Merlin is gonna watch over your sleep, hm?”

“Thank you,” she whispered with the last strength her little body still had, before her eyes fell shut for the night. It was understandable considering how the day had gone for her.

When he exited the room, Steve left the door ajar so that he would hopefully hear if anything was up, in case she had a nightmare or something. Quietly, he walked back downstairs and reached for the book he’d abandoned earlier, but he wasn’t able to concentrate at all. His eyes darted to the big clock on the wall again and again, waiting for Eddie’s concert to be over and his phone to ring. When that eventually happened, Steve still jumped a little.

“Hey rockstar,” he greeted Eddie, a smile on his lips as he sank down into the pillows of the sofa, finally relaxing a little more.

“Hey pretty boy!” Steve could almost see the wide grin on Eddie’s lips, while he flitted around in his hotel room, already packing up his stuff. They’d agreed to drive home early the next morning and celebrate their successful tour with their friends and family the following evening instead of getting drunk tonight. Eddie wanted to have Steve there most of all.

“How was the show?”

“It was awesome! But we can tell you the details tomorrow when we get home. Just know that it was the perfect ending to a great tour in general. The crowd was absolutely mental.”

“Alright alright, tell me when you get here.”

“Yeah, I’d much rather talk about something else right now.” Steve could hear the smirk in Eddie’s voice. “Please tell me you’re wearing nothing but that pair of grey sweatpants.”

Steve let out a laugh at Eddie’s words. It was so typical for him and normally, Steve was up for that, would indulge this fantasy, tell him that he was wearing just that and get the conversation even more heated, but this wasn’t the right moment.

“While I would love to tell you that, it wouldn’t be appropriate to walk around shirtless at the moment. I’m not exactly alone.”

Steve could hear Eddie stop moving around in the room.

“What do you mean? Who’s with you?” Especially at this time of day? Sure, it was a Saturday night, but still, Steve would have told him if he’d planned something tonight.

“That’s actually not that easy.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on his thighs as he held the phone with one hand and rubbed the other hand over his face. “Do you remembered a Rose Walker?”

“Rose Walker?” Eddie repeated, wracking his brain for an answer until it clicked. “Yeah, we were in a relationship for a couple of months but that was… phew-”

“More than ten years ago, more like eleven.” Steve gave him the missing information.

“Yeah, sounds about right. Why? What happened? Was she looking for me?” Eddie had no idea why she should suddenly turn up at his door after all these years, after she’d dumped him because… well because his heart had already belonged to someone else at that time. Someone he was now talking to on the phone to be precise.

“Not exactly.” Steve leaned back again, stretching out his legs while he looked up at the ceiling, as if that was making everything a little easier. “Hopper showed up today to tell me that she died a couple of days ago in an accident.”

“And?” Eddie knew that this couldn’t be everything, because Hopper wouldn’t show up because of just that. Because of a person dying that Eddie hadn’t seen in eleven years.

“And he stood here with your daughter.”

“Come again?” Eddie felt his heart stop for a moment before it burst right out of his chest along with his ears ringing like crazy. Stumbling a little, he managed to sit down on the bed.

“You have a ten year old daughter called Janis and she’s staying here with me right now. She’s asleep because the last couple of days have been a lot for her.”

“Mhm.”

“She’s really wonderful… and just like you. Honestly, she looks like your mini version, even sticks out her tongue like you do when you concentrate and don’t try to deny that you’re doing that!”

“Steve,” Eddie said with a stern voice. He was far from protesting against anything Steve was saying, but there was one thing on his mind. “How are you dealing with this?”

“Me?” He should have expected that question, because Eddie always wanted to know how he was feeling, wanted the honest answer, not the facade he was showing to others sometimes so that they didn’t worry. “Eds… I’m already in love with her.”

“Okay.”

“How are you?”

“I’m… I don’t know honestly. There’s so much going through my mind, like… why didn’t she tell me about this sooner, you know?” Eddie sighed, raking a hand through his curls that weren’t as long as they used to be anymore. “I just wish I was there with you. Could definitely use one of your hugs.”

“I miss you too… But you’ll come home tomorrow.”

“Nope… I’m gonna come home tonight.”

“Eddie, you can’t be serious. You need some sleep first!”

“D’you honestly think I can sleep now? No, I’ll just lie awake all night, so I can drive home as well.”

“You don’t even have a car.”

“I can rent one.”

“At this time of day or rather night?”

“I know enough people.”

“Yeah… yeah you do. Just… drive safe okay? And if you need to stop, please stop. She’s already lost her mother, she cannot lose her father as well.” And I wouldn’t survive losing you.

“I will, baby, I promise.”

Steve hung up after a moment with a sigh. It was a more than four hour drive from Detroit, and he really didn’t appreciate this kind of behaviour, but… he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop Eddie. So, he settled down on the sofa, turned on the TV to have something to look at, because he couldn’t concentrate on the book anymore, but it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

As much as Eddie tried to be quiet when he unlocked the door, Steve still heard him, because he was still wearing his hearing aids. In addition, hed known that Eddie would come home, so his subconscious had been watching out for those kinds of noises.

“Hey Stevie,” Eddie said the moment Steve stood up, and dropped his jacket over the back of the sofa. His bags were still in the car, because they were not important right now. The only important thing was the man with dishevelled hair and a sleepy smile on his face. Eddie enveloped him in his arms, held him close and buried his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck to inhale deeply.

“You’re really here,” Steve mumbled, closing his eyes as he raked his right hand through Eddie’s hair, dropped it to the nape of his neck to just hold Eddie like this for a moment.

“Told you.” Eddie’s breath fanned over Steve’s neck, sending shivers down his back. They hadn’t seen each other in five weeks now. Way too long for both of them, so neither of them wanted to let go, so they stood like this for a few minutes.

Eddie eventually pulled back only to frame Steve’s face with his hands and finally kiss him. A desperate moan landed in the kiss, not really discernible who had made that noise.

“I missed you so much,” Steve whispered into the kiss, digging his fingers into the shirt Eddie was wearing. He really didn’t want to let go, but they both needed their sleep now.

“Missed you, too,” Eddie mumbled, stealing another kiss from Steve’s lips, before he pulled back smiling.

“Come on… she’s asleep in the guest room.”

Steve slowly stepped back, but immediately reached for Eddie’s hand, intertwined their fingers, before he led Eddie upstairs. Eddie’s heart was beating so fast and hard, that he was sure that Steve was able to hear it. God, he was nervous, but the moment he looked at the sleeping form of his daughter, his heart melted. This… this was his little girl.

“Oh man,” he mumbled, squeezing Steve’s hand once more.

“She’d adorable, isn’t she?”

“Mhm… One thing I did right in my life without even realising it.”

“Eddie…” Steve sighed, pulling Eddie out of the room along with him. “You’ve done a lot of things right, don’t put yourself down like that.” “Yeah, yeah… I know just… I think I need some sleep.”

“We both do.” Steve pulled him in for another kiss, before they headed to their own bedroom.

Steve reached for Eddie’s shirt and pulled it over the other one’s head, leaning down to place a kiss onto Eddie’s shoulder, then onto the scar on his chest. Eddie helped Steve out of his shirt as well, kissing his neck, his hands travelling down to the sweatpants to push them down Steve’s legs. Another kiss landed on Eddie’s upper arm while Steve fiddled with the buckle of Eddie’s belt so he could pull Eddie’s jeans down. There was nothing sexual about this, not getting the other worked up, just sharing some intimacies, because they needed each other, needed to be close.

Once they lay in bed, Eddieran his fingertips through Steve’s hair, before he carefully took the glasses off his nose and put them on the bedside table. He did the same with Steve’s hearing aids and put them right next to the glasses. It was an act of love, of trust, and Steve wouldn’t allow anyone else to do that.

“Good night, rockstar!”

“Good night, pretty boy!”

Everything would look different in the morning, but one thing was for sure, it wasn’t just the two of them anymore. Janis already had a place in their lives, and Eddie couldn’t wait to properly meet her.

Tag-list: @goldenkinglouis @give-em-hellfire @magnoliabutters

#I'm sorry but this just had to get out of my head #steddie #steddie fic #steddie blurb #steddie imagine #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steveddie #staffi writes #I love little janis so much okay

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myfavouritelunatic · 1 year

Text

The Blacksmith

I am so excited to share the following chapter with you all! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! ❤️

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut! NSFW 18+

Links to Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, and Twenty-Seven!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was Halbrand's tender touch that roused you. You could feel his fingertips lightly on your skin, followed by sweet kisses down your naked back that made you hum. It seems he had undressed you after you passed out, in an effort to make you comfortable as you slept. The suns bright light had filled your room, causing you to blink rapidly as your eyes adjusted. Halbrand's lips were everywhere, leaving no skin untouched, and you gasped a little. Aware of your consciousness, he pulled your shoulder down so you laid flat on the bed, his eyes now gazing longingly at you.

"Good morning." he spoke, running a hand through your hair. "Good morning." you responded, voice raspy, smiling up at him. In that moment you became keenly aware of the after effects of too much ale, your head filled with a dull pain. "Why did I drink all of that ale... I hope I didn't make a fool of myself..." Halbrand chuckled. "No, my love, never." He brought his lips down to meet yours, and you savoured the softness of them. "Your thoughts were my only concern. There was a lot of anguish in them." You sighed, eyelids closing, and the frustrations of your siblings returned to your mind, your head beginning to ache even more. Staring again into Halbrand's hazel eyes, you found your calm within them. "My brothers... they've... changed..."

"How so?" "I'm not sure. Who knows what I've missed in Númenor, what I've missed in their lives since I saw them last. They are not exactly who I recall them to be." "I'm sure they feel the same way about you. You are all adults, free to make your own choices, carve your own paths." "But the paths they are going down... I'm not sure I want to follow." "Love... compared to the things you and I have done..." "I know, I know. I am the last that should be casting judgment upon them. I honestly don't know if they would ever speak with me again if I told them... everything." "All you can do is be a presence in their lives. Help them to see the right way. The rest will be up to fate." Halbrand encouraged, stroking your cheek. His words helped to relax you, but they did not fully erase the contempt for your brothers you were feeling. That would take a lot longer to subside. Sighing deeply, you decided to push them from your thoughts for now, for today was not to be about them. Today was about you and Halbrand, and your love.

"We're getting married today..." you spoke dreamily. "Yes we are. I am finally going to make you a queen," Halbrand kissed you, speaking between the touches of your lips. "My wife... my soul mate... my love... for eternity." His words brought out your desire for him, and grabbing the back of his head, you kissed him furiously. You loved how he spoke of you being his, belonging to him. The power it gave you. It aroused you completely and in the best way, sensing your womanhood responding, readying yourself for his touch on you.

Your hand reached down and began to stroke his length which hardened quickly with your motions. Halbrand moaned into your mouth, the force of his kiss intensifying. His tongue soon found its way down to your neck, and you gasped deliciously at the familiar sensation. Your sounds quickly grew in volume though, as he let his fingers glide between your wet folds, sinking two of them into the depths of you, his thumb on your clit. Overwhelmed, you released his erection, and Halbrand took the opportunity to move down your form, sucking your nipples, licking your navel, all the while maintaining the movements of his hand upon you.

Soon he had adjusted himself in such a way that your legs were spread before him, his favourite part of you ready for the taking. Halbrand began to suck deliciously on your clit, adding a third finger to the friction you were relishing. His left hand wandered up your torso, groping your breasts before coming to rest on your neck. Giving it a squeeze he said, "I know how much you liked this... back in the tub... me... taking your breath away..." A moan couldn't help but escape you, his hot breath on your pussy, his grip on your neck tightening, his long fingers grazing your walls... the combination of ecstasy was pure insanity. His eyes penetrated you with each word he uttered, and you looked on as he returned to work his magic on you.

The harder he held your throat, the less you could breathe, and the pleasure began to rise within you like it never had before. It was a good thing you couldn't scream, for you were certain that the entire inn would hear exactly what your king was doing to you. The euphoria was blinding, and you became lightheaded, your eyes rolling back in your head. It was in that moment as Halbrand inserted a fourth finger inside of you that you finally came undone, your body trembling uncontrollably, hips bucking, clutching desperately onto the arm that was choking you.

Your love released his grip and air found its way back into your lungs, with you gasping and moaning the echoes of your orgasm. Halbrand swiftly rose up to crash your lips together, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Taking charge, you rolled him onto his back, immediately straddling him, letting his erection replace his fingers. The two of you moaned simultaneously at the new sensation, and you proceeded to ride him quickly, biting your lip at the devastating effect it was having on your already sensitive body.

Halbrand watched you work with dark eyes, brushing his hair back out of his face, holding on to your forearm, digging his nails in. It wasn't long before he was rising his hips to meet your movements, desiring to go as deep into you as he could possibly go. He spoke your name, every syllable of it drenched in lust, in the ecstasy you were making him feel. Halbrand pulled you down to him, craving a kiss, before rolling you onto your back, and commencing the hardest of thrusts.

He was hitting your sweetest spot with every motion now, causing you to cry out. Not only would the inn hear you, but potentially all of Pelargir. Gazing up at Halbrand, you took in his sensual visage as his own pleasure started to rise. He was gasping with every thrust, breathing heavily, sweat starting to drip from his brow, torc rocking against his collar bone. This incredible view allowed you to climax once again, and Halbrand did the same, letting his mouth collide with your own as he did so, leaving the two of you howling into each other.

As you both came back down, your love wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace. Noses grazing, you kissed each other tenderly, neither of you wanting your lips to part. The two of you remained in this state for as long as you possibly could, until the moment came, when the days events had to begin. Dressing quickly and heading downstairs hand in hand, you saw your brothers seated in the same table as the night before. Târikun was looking a little worse for wear. Serves him right. you thought to yourself. There were four bowls of porridge on said table, two of which were mostly eaten, leaving the other two for you and Halbrand.

"Thank you." you nodded at Azrahin. He didn't look too impressed, no doubt having heard the amorous commotion from above. You just rolled your eyes at him. "Oh like I never had to deal with you and your... women." This made Târikun giggle. "Come now brother, this is silly sister's day. You can save your hostility for tomorrow." Azrahin let his stern expression fall away, agreeing with his little brother. "Sorry. This has all just been a lot to take in." "No apology necessary, Azrahin. I can tell you care deeply for your sister. Just as she cares for you." spoke Halbrand, handling the situation deftly. After taking a few quick spoonfuls from his bowl, your love rose to his feet. "I have something to take care of. Bronwyn will be here shortly to see to it you are ready for the ceremony. Men. My love." he nodded at your brothers and kissed your hand as he bid you farewell. Your eyes followed him until he passed through the exit.

"I think he will make you a fine husband." decided Azrahin. "You have chosen very well, sister." "I didn't choose him. Destiny did." you spoke, smiling at your brothers as you tucked into your porridge. After a few minutes, Halbrand's words proved true and Bronwyn arrived, a sack over her shoulder. "I didn't get the chance to introduce myself yesterday." she stated to your brothers as they acquainted themselves. "It is fortunate you are here for this occasion." "Right you are." acknowledged Târikun. "Well, I suppose we should leave the women to it Azrahin." "We'll be in our room, knock when its time to leave." spoke your biggest brother, and the two men made for the stairs. Bronwyn and yourself were not too far behind them, and in a short moment, you were back in your chamber, the memories of the morning replaying themselves for you as you looked at the dishevelled sheets. Bronwyn placed the sack down on the floor, and rummaging through it, pulled out a dress. The crimson piece had nothing on what she had now revealed to you.

"I thought you might want to wear something that represented your homeland." mused Brownyn. Your smile widened at her words, as you let the sight of the fabric before you sink in. The silk was a deep azure, and it reminded you not only of home, but of your mother. This colour was her favourite, why she was draped in it in your visions. The gown's sleeves flared out at the elbows, the colour morphing into pearl white. A slit in the skirt revealed more pearl coloured silk underneath the azure.

You pulled off your plum dress, ready to accept the one you would wed Halbrand in. Bronwyn let it fall over you, before turning you away to lace up the fabric. You wandered over to the mirror in the corner of the room, gasping at the sight of yourself. The neckline of the dress went down in a narrow V that stopped between your breasts, with delicate golden lace running along its hem. The gown was close fitting now that Bronwyn had finished at your back. Your eyes wandered down to the skirt, and you couldn't help but sway, letting the pearl and azure tresses flow like water around your legs. The exquisite piece ended in a small train about a metre behind you. You raised your hands to your forehead in disbelief at the garment you wore, and the occasion for which you wore it. This made you take notice of the fine details within the billowing pearl sleeves. There were intricate lines of gold mixed within. You did not feel worthy of such a dress.

"Bronwyn... I'm speechless." She beamed at you humbly, bowing. "It shouldn't be anything less for my queen." "Thank you." "Of course, my lady. Ah, but let's not forget this." Reaching back down into her sack, she revealed to you a leather holster. "Lord Halbrand mentioned the dagger as your weapon of choice. I thought it might be of use, given what could befall us. May I?" You nodded at her, and she kneeled down, parting the slit of your dress, strapping the holster to your thigh. Bronwyn then grabbed your dagger from atop the nightstand and sheathed it in place. Rising to her feet she spoke, "Now, let me see if we can make something of that lovely hair of yours."

The two of you spent the next hour readying one another for the ceremony and getting to know each other better. Bronwyn told all about what occured in Tir Harad and Ostirith, the encounters with the orcs and how they had been driven from their homes. Though, feeling understandably romantic, you wished to hear of how she met Arondir. Her eyes were aglow with love as she spoke of the hidden trysts that soon blossomed into a wonderful partnership between the two. "It was a long time before I felt the warm touch of his lips... but it was a feeling worth waiting for. The love came first, and it couldn't be stopped, despite the attitude towards our two races uniting in such a way. Arondir is the only good thing that has come from all of this sorrow." "I'm glad you found each other." you spoke kindly, pleased for her. "I think..." Bronwyn began, surveying you, "We might be done." She punctuated her words by adding the final touch to your hair: a simple yet detailed golden diadem. Tucking it into the braid that wrapped around your head, and fluffing out the hair she left down, she stepped back, smiling broadly at her work. "My queen." Bronwyn bowed her head. Queen. The reflection now before you was nothing but royal. You looked every bit the monarch you were destined to be.

"Shall we make our way?" You sighed deeply, a permanent smile on your face. "We shall." Bronwyn opened the door for you, and you grabbed the attention of your brothers. "Time to go!" you announced, rapping on the wood. Târikun opened the door, his mouth now agape. "Sister..." "Not so silly now, am I?" you jested him. He bellowed with joy and threw his arms around you. Returning the hug, you saw Azrahin over his shoulder surveying the scene before him. Releasing the embrace, you wandered over to your oldest brother, his eyes brimming with tears. "I wish... I wish mother was here to see you." Feeling your own tears forming, you took him into your arms, holding him tightly. "She is, brother. She is." you assured him. Azrahin broke contact, and you wiped his cheeks with your thumbs. "I love you." he stated, speaking your name. "And I you. I love both of you. You're my family. And always will be." It was so good to let them know how you felt, telling them that regardless of the circumstances, you would not abandon them. Halbrand would be proud.

The four of you exited the inn, making your way through the streets, noticing they were empty. However as you came closer to the hall Bronwyn was leading you towards, the people of Pelargir began to appear. Making way, they bowed in your direction, all of them taken by your presence. The crowd grew in number the nearer you were to the entrance, and as you passed the threshold the sight before you made you gasp. It seemed everyone in this small city was here.

The crowd parted best they could for you, the Southlanders in the room cheering with glee. Taking in your surroundings, the hall was grand, its high ceiling arching above you with candelabrum hung from the rafters, casting the faces of your people in golden glow. Your eyes followed the path now before you, about 100 paces away were stone steps, leading up to a dais that held upon it a long wooden table with seats only at the back of it, facing the crowd. However that all quickly faded away the second you caught the adoring face of your love. Halbrand was stood at the top of the steps, adorned handsomely in black leather trousers, a stunning burgundy tunic, and a brown belt with a sword sheathed at his left hip. The only item upon him that was familiar to you was the torc. Once again, he had managed to leave you breathless.

As you passed your people, they bowed and took their seats, the cheering subsiding. There had been so many of them gathered you did not realise there were tables and chairs situated through the hall. Moving towards Halbrand slowly, your eyes did not leave his. He was beaming at you, and you at him. You were filled with so much joy you feared you might burst, and in that moment you chose to run to him. The audience cheered again, with some clapping, as you shortened the distance between you and your king, your dress flowing serenely behind you. You did not want to delay him any longer. Halbrand had waited as long as time itself for you. You were finally here. Finally his. Forever.

Launching yourself up the steps, the two of you embraced to the rapturous sounds of the crowd. "You look... I don't think there is a word adequate enough to describe..." Halbrand spoke in your ear, his voice breaking. You pulled yourself back to take in his visage. Tears were escaping him. "Well I think, you look... every part a king. My king... at last." He took your hand, kissing it briefly as you started to cry yourself.

It was then your brothers and Bronwyn reached you, with Arondir appearing at her side. The elf called for quiet amongst the people, before beseeching Halbrand and yourself to make your vows to one another. The room was eerily silent. "Halbrand..." you began, your voice echoing off the walls. "I feel as if I have stepped into a dream. The time we have shared together... it has not been without struggle. In fact, I was once certain we would not survive. Your strength, your loyalty, your undying love... gives me meaning. You are my destiny. I will love you until my dying breath and beyond."

Halbrand let your name pass his lips, and it had never sounded better. "I did not imagine... I did not believe that this could be possible. That I of all creatures... could discover the sheer wonder of what it is like to love. That is the gift you have given me. And although I feel I do not deserve it... I receive it with grace, my heart... it is yours. You are my light. I will love you until my dying breath and beyond."

Azrahin approached you both, bringing up your arms, placing your hand upon that of your husband, blessing your union. He bowed, stepping back, allowing for Arondir to come forth, and you noticed the elf’s hands were fists. Opening them, he revealed two golden rings. "Where did these come from?" you asked Halbrand as he picked one up. "I did say I had something to take care of." He winked, and you grinned at him as the band he made for you slid over your finger. Ever the blacksmith. As you placed his own ring of gold upon him, your mind flashed with an image that refused to stay buried no longer. Your love, the dark lord, wearing the one ring that threatened to spark fires, covering Middle-earth in its shadow, ruling all in perfect order. Your hand in his, aflame, consumed. His dark queen. You blinked furiously to rid the nightmare from your sight, and thankfully it vanished into memory. Though not before Halbrand noticed the sudden change in your demeanour.

"Are you alright?" "Yes." you nodded frantically, your smile returning as you returned to reality. "Yes. I couldn't be more alright." Bronwyn wandered over to you both then, carrying a crown for the king of the Southlands. It was of a dark golden colour, simple in detail, with six spires no more than an inch each in height spread across its brim. "This is only symbolic, as we have no royal artifacts for the occasion." she apologised. Halbrand's eyes lit up at the sight of the object. "It will do just fine. Thank you, Lady Bronwyn." he spoke, and lowering his head, she placed the crown upon him to thunderous applause. "Beautiful." you mouthed at him. Halbrand smiled at you briefly, before your lips met for the first time as husband and wife.

With the clapping ended, Arondir concluded the proceedings. "May the light of Eru Ilúvatar shine upon you both." blessed the elf, though as the words entered into the hall, they seemed to clash with a commotion that was suddenly brewing outside. It did not sound pleasant. "Orcs." Bronwyn uttered, and she and Arondir readied their weapons without hesitation. Bronwyn wielding a sword that her dress had cleverly concealed, and Arondir raised his bow and arrow, his quiver never parted from his back. Halbrand then unsheathed his own sword, and you realised then that it was not the one he took from the orc days ago. It seemed he had been quite busy in the local smithy. Following suit, you retrieved your dagger from under your silken skirt. Looking ahead in the distance you could make out bodies being pushed aside, people falling over.

And suddenly, through the crowd that had been gathered at the entrance, there appeared the cause of the rumblings. It was not orcs.

It was Galadriel.

Tagging: @starlady66 @denzit @coraleethroughthelookingglass @restless-tides @heronamedhawks @pursuitseternal @hikarielizabethbloom @vaguelyvibin @imjustsuperweird @michon-ne @gil-galadhwen

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand/sauron x reader #halbrand #sauron #charlie vickers #the rings of power #trop #trop fanfic #trop fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr

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murdockparker · 2 years

Text

After All

Matthew Murdock x Reader

Summary: One night stands were not her forte or common practice, but there was something thrilling about trying something new with him. The morning after the fact, however, was more daunting than she anticipated.

Word Count: 4k

Prompt: 74.“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

79.“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

Warnings: slight NSFW (nothing hardcore my dudes, just steamy), mentions of slight injury, fluffy domestic fluff

A/N: this totally hasn’t been sitting in my drafts for two months now, no way. that’s crazy of you to guess and assume... but anyway, take it and run ig.

Sunlight.

It was the first thing she had felt upon her skin in the not-so-early hours of the morning, having been woken by the sudden warmth. She usually slept with her blinds drawn, taking absolutely no chances that the light could ever disrupt her so well deserved rest, so how could she possibly have forgotten? With bleary eyes, she scanned her surroundings hesitantly. It wasn’t until her fingers danced across the silk sheets atop of her body that she realized where she was. She had spent the night at Matt Murdock’s apartment.

The Matt Murdock. The one she had sworn up and down that she wouldn’t get involved with. The man she had imagined there couldn’t possibly be anything more to their friendly banter—he was just a friendly person, right? The dull ache in her core led her to believe otherwise.

Maybe she didn’t want friendly.

Matt stirred beside her, seemingly unaware to her presence. It’s no surprise that she had woken up before him, he had made it very clear that he was much more of a night owl—something about being blind screwing up his days and nights—she believed it enough and didn’t think about it further. (Y/N) clawed for her phone at the bedside table, the time reading just a few minutes past nine, her usual Saturday alarm about to ring in a few moments. With hurried taps she successfully turned off her alarm, wanting so desperately to bask in the morning sun a bit longer, to be with Matt a bit longer.

Her eyes scanned over the usually gruff man beside her, his face was damn-near as peaceful as she had ever seen it. Sleep looked good on him—everything looked good on him—his features were softer than the waking hours, the stress of his life seemingly off his mind and body. (Y/N) found herself focusing on his jaw, specifically the rough scruff that accompanied it. She never thought she’d like a man who didn’t shave super regularly, but with the way her thighs burned from the friction of the night before—nearly raw to the touch—she was hopelessly hooked. Under the stubble of his chin laid a few scattered scars, though nothing in comparison to the ones on his chest.

She tried asking about them last night, the big ones glaring her in the face after she had ripped his white button up off, but his silence spoke volumes. She wasn’t going to get a lick of information out of him, even if she held his orgasm hostage—a tactic she almost resorted to—but the heat of the moment led him back to her thighs and successfully off the topic. He didn’t need to share that information with her, and she respected it. For all she knew, he could’ve just cut himself somehow. Many times. Deeply and repeatedly on his chest. For fun.

Matt rolled fully over, his sleeping form now facing her completely. His brows were drawn tightly together, almost in frustration. She thought for a moment whether or not she should wake him up, greet him so sweetly this wonderful Saturday morning, or if she should just try to slip out undetected as if their passionate night never happened. She oh-so-carefully sat on the edge of the bed, the warm sun now off her naked body and allowing the cold air of the room finally hit her. Matt stirred again. She needed to grab her clothes quickly and slip out before he really woke—or, possibly just stay in the bed and allow the warmth to take over. She sat with her hands in her lap, thinking over her options. What was the protocol here? Did she stay? Should she have already left by now?

“G’morning,” Matt softly grumbled beside her.

Guess she didn’t have to think about it for long.

“Oh,” (Y/N) turned her head, almost slightly shocked at Matt’s words. “Morning.” Matt—still half asleep, she was sure of it—patted the empty space beside himself, the place where she had one of the best sleeps of her life. She watched his hand rub against the silk sheets, a wordless invitation.

“You must be cold,” Matt yawned, “come on,” she didn’t budge. “Come on,” he repeated, “I don’t bite.”

“Something tells me that’s a lie,” (Y/N) chuckled as she finally gave in to his persistence. She found herself laying atop his arm, his hand laying impossibly comfortable on her shoulder, the warmth from his body seeping into her skin.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” Matt chuckled back, grin practically lighting up the room, “sleep okay?”

(Y/N) hummed in response, nodding her head. When Matt’s expression didn’t change, she realized her mistake. “Shit, yeah, I slept fine—I nodded, sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Matt smiled, his grin morphing into something sweeter than honey. His thumb ran circles on her skin. “I figured you nodded.”

“I just—it’s hard to remember,” (Y/N) felt herself digging into a hole she may never get out of. “I mean, of course for you I can imagine it being so easy and…” She trailed on, watching Matt’s reaction to her rambling. “I should just shut up, shouldn’t I?”

“I would hate it if you did,” Matt hummed, “It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today, I rather like your voice.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Did you sleep okay?” (Y/N) asked, trying to get the feeling of flattery to subside a bit, her face felt like the surface of the sun. Matt nodded.

“Oh, I nodded, but you knew that,” Matt gave another shit-eating grin. She playfully patted his chest, feeling his gravely laugh escape him. “Yes, I slept perfectly fine—better than I have in days, actually.”

“You do seem like you don’t get enough sleep,” (Y/N) reached up to the—now faint—purple circles under his eyes, tracing them lightly with a feather-light touch. She could hardly recall a time where she had seen Matthew Murdock without the signs of exhaustion raking his face, this was as rested as she’d seen him. Ever.

“You’d be right,” Matt said, his free hand finding hers easily, both now laying on his chest.

“That’s a terrible habit, you know.”

“I’m full of terrible habits.”

“I bet you just drink coffee in the morning and call it breakfast,” (Y/N) mused, his small sheepish smile giving himself away. “I could try to fix that, y’know.”

“You want to make me breakfast?”

“It’s the least I could do,” (Y/N) shrugged, sadly pulling herself away from his comfortable grasp. “Considering you did all that for me last night.”

“Trust me when I say everything I did last night I wanted to do,” he sighed at her release of his hand, “out of the pure kindness of my Catholic heart.”

“Tell me, do Catholics usually approve of sex before marriage?” It was (Y/N)’s turn to repay the shit eating grin.

“In my experience, it’s more of a grey area,” Matt sat up and stretched his arms, “don’t hear you complaining about it, though.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” (Y/N) assured him. She looked at her clothes on the floor, the outfit much too dressy for a casual Saturday morning. Her eyes landed on a grey sweatshirt on top of his laundry basket. “But my thighs? They’re practically screaming at me.”

“I have some salve in my medicine cabinet,” Matt said, thumbing towards his bathroom. He somehow managed to pull on a pair of green sleep pants, (Y/N) hadn’t even noticed. “It could help the irritation.”

“Have this problem a lot with your lady friends?” (Y/N) laughed as she entered his small bathroom. It was tidy, practically sparkling. The mirror didn’t even have water droplets on the surface, much to her shock. She pried the cabinet open and found the balm he must’ve been talking about—it looked high-grade and far too fancy—softly adding a layer to the red patches on her skin.

“Are you suggesting I have other lady friends?” Matt said from the other room, his voice naturally flirtatious. (Y/N) knew that tone, he used it a lot.

“Foggy has a big mouth,” (Y/N) said smugly, sashaying into his living room. Matt was already sitting on the couch, head tilting to the sound of (Y/N)’s entrance. “Sounds to me like you’re a bit of a whore, Murdock.”

“Whore is a harsh term,” Matt shook his head, “experienced is more adequate. Besides, Foggy likes to exaggerate.”

“I picked up on that,” (Y/N) giggled as she pried open his fridge. A six pack of beer, a carton with five—four, one was broken—eggs, a bit of milk and barely enough produce to blink at. There were a few half full bottles of condiments in the door, along with a new jar of pickles. “Is this all you got?”

“I told you,” Matt turned on the couch, “I don’t really eat breakfast.”

“Yeah, but this is just…” (Y/N) sighed wistfully, “so sad. It looks like you hardly eat at all.”

“I tend to get take out a lot.”

“With your physique?” (Y/N) scoffed, “No way.”

“I knew it,” Matt pointed a finger towards her direction, “I knew you only liked me for my body.”

“I could say the same to you,” (Y/N) quipped back. The two both mirrored grins, easily falling into a cadence of light giggles. She found it hard to focus on a breakfast plan, with the few options before her and the beautiful sounds coming from the man behind her, it was a daunting task to say the very least. It wasn’t until she heard the grumble of his stomach that she continued to focus on the shelves before her. “Eggs?”

“Eggs sound great,” Matt hummed, taking a seat at his small table, built only for two so it seemed.

“How do you like them?”

Matt’s cheeks flushed for a moment, coughing lightly. “Scrambled, please,” (Y/N) nodded at the confession and moved to grab the carton, “with milk,” she turned around. “I prefer them made with milk, if you can.”

“For a man who doesn’t ‘do’ breakfast, he seems to have quite a fondness to how his eggs are done,” (Y/N) laughed as she beat the eggs in the bowl before her. “Besides, they’re better with milk anyway. Hell would first freeze over before I made them with water.”

(Y/N) continued to make the breakfast in silence, only glancing behind herself every so often, enjoying the sight of Matthew Murdock in the morning light. He found himself reading a stack of papers—in braille, of course—she had presumed were something to do with the legal case he had been so passionately explaining to her the night before. She adjusted her sweatshirt sleeve, not wanting it to get dirty with their meal, pulling the grey material up and over her elbow to a comfortable level. She had gotten a bit overheated, anyhow.

“Smells good,” Matt said, an arm finding its way around her stomach, the touch sending (Y/N) nearly sky-high. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“You snuck up on me!” (Y/N) turned her head, now face-to-face with the culprit who made her heart rate skyrocket. He began to pull himself away, her free hand stopping him. “Well, I didn’t say you had to pull away…”

She could practically feel his grin against her shoulder, his head now resting atop her. The gesture was far too domestic for what their current relationship entailed, if relationship were to be the right word for whatever they had going on. Though, as (Y/N) had put it, the feeling wasn’t an unwelcome one for either party, both enjoying the position a bit too much. (Y/N) did, however, find the restraint a bit cumbersome when it came to scraping the eggs out of the pan, her reach just a bit too short to move them onto the plates. Matt must’ve sensed this and released her, just for a moment, to grab two forks.

“I don’t see the need to dirty another dish,” Matt said honestly, digging a fork directly into the pan. He quickly shoveled a bite into his mouth, instantly regretting his haste.

“Matt!” (Y/N) nearly laughed, watching him squirm in discomfort and nearly spitting out the almost-molten egg. “I just finished cooking those, of course they’re still hot!”

“I just,” Matt swallowed the eggs, gasping for a breath of the cool air, “I couldn’t wait to eat your cooking, I guess I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit?” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, moving the pan over to the table—they really didn’t need to dirty more dishes anyhow—and sat down. “If you wanted to get in my good graces you could’ve just done… well, anything else.”

“I thought I already was in your good graces?”

“Were you?” (Y/N) hummed, tone teasing. The way of speaking between the two of them was natural, so much so as breathing it seemed. A dangerous territory, indeed.

“I would assume so,” Matt leaned forward against the table, his arms crossed decidedly. “Especially after last night—”

“Are you suggesting that I make my opinions on a person based solely on their efforts in the bedroom?” (Y/N) asked, mirroring his posture. “If that were the case, I’d have very few opinions on a very select few people.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Matt grinned, grabbing another forkful of eggs, the pan now decidedly cooled down enough to enjoy. He silently chewed the mush, enjoying the possibly—most certainly—slightly expired eggs. “I’m curious though—”

“Yes,” she cut him off. His head tilted slightly, almost annoyed at the interruption. “If that system were true,” (Y/N) smiled lightly, “in how I judge people, anyway, you’re held in very high regard.”

“Very high?”

“Extremely.”

“Now if you were to rank said people—”

“You’d be at the top.”

“Oh obviously, that was in no doubt,” Matt smirked, “but before you so rudely cut me off—for the second time, I might add—I was going to ask who you’d put at the bottom.”

“The bottom of my sex list?” (Y/N) arched her brow, shoving another quick bite in her mouth.

“If you want to call it that, sure,” Matt laughed lightly.

She sat for a moment, as if running through the short list of people she had the pleasure—or, in this case, displeasure—of sleeping with. It wasn’t hard to think of, a couple one night stands here and there, the enthusiastic ex from high school, her last partner and suddenly she remembered—

“Dominic Trochinski.”

“And he is…?”

“At the bottom of my list, like you asked,” (Y/N) smirked. She knew damn well what Matthew Murdock was insinuating or asking. If he wanted to know so damn bad, he’d go out and ask it.

“An old boyfriend?”

There it was.

“Something like that,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “not really into labels, you see.”

“Ah,” Matt clicked. “So, tell me, how did this Dominic Trochinski end up at the bottom of your list?”

“Let’s just say that if he were to have done even a fifth of what you did last night,” (Y/N) sighed, “it’d be a different story.”

Matt finished the eggs in the pan with a triumphant swallow. “That’s not very helpful.”

“I don’t know what else there is to say about it, Murdock,” she placed her fork down, “it seems like you may have just ruined every other person for me.”

“Is that so?”

His grin could blind a stadium, surely. Matthew Murdock knew of his prowess in the bedroom, well known around Hell’s Kitchen for such a reputation, but to have such an effect on the woman sitting across from him? A woman he very much liked? Why, he felt like he could nearly fly. That, or go and take her against the table they currently sat at.

“Don’t let your head get too big there, Murdock,” (Y/N) slyly smiled as she rose from the table. “You’d never be able to get through the door.”

“Stuck in my apartment? With a beautiful lady?” Matt pushed a hand to his chest and sighed. “Whatever would I do?”

This led (Y/N) to chuckle quietly, placing the pan in the sink—to be forgotten about almost instantly if her suspicions were correct. “I can imagine you’d find a way to pass the time.”

“I would,” Matt hummed, his head bobbing lightly in a nod. “Though, we should give your poor thighs a break,” he grinned, “I could also try to get a closer shave.”

“As tempting as that offer is,” (Y/N) sighed. It was a tempting offer—one she almost jumped right onto the kitchen table to take him up on the proposition. “We’ll have to pin that for later, a raincheck maybe?”

“So you’re saying there’s a next time?”

She hummed contently, loud enough to be considered a verbal answer to his teasing. As much as she’d love a next time—and she would—it felt as if she had overstayed her welcome this morning. (Y/N) knew for every extra minute she stayed in Matthew Murdock’s apartment, it was a minute closer to losing her composure, a minute closer to something she frankly didn’t have the courage to accept.

“I—thank you,” Matt grumbled, rising to his feet, “for breakfast, I mean.”

“You’re welcome,” (Y/N) smiled sweetly. “You’re well rested and have a half decent breakfast—you’re practically a full-fledged functioning adult now!”

“Practically,” he nodded.

She rocked on her heels for a moment, unsure of what to do next, what to say. “So…”

“So…?”

“I guess I should—I have to get back—”

“Do you?” Matt quirked his brow. “Have to go back, I mean. It’s Saturday, you don’t have work today—I’m not,” he took a quick breath, “not trying to keep you hostage here, of course, but I’d really hate it if you left.”

“I’ve never…” she cleared her throat, fiddling with the cuff of the grey sweatshirt, “this is all new to me, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“This is all new?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) ground out, her posture stiff. “One night stands, I’ve never really done this.”

Matt quickly found his way to her side, putting his arms firmly on her upper arms. His eyes were pointed only slightly below her nose, but she knew he was trying his best to meet her gaze in earnest. “(Y/N), you thought that this was just a one night stand?”

“I—well, wasn’t it?”

The events from the night before leading up to the inevitable liaison at Murdock’s apartment were almost comically textbook for a one night stand. Drinks, mindless flirting, longing touches and a quick exit from the party—all checking everything she had learned from her friends tales of woe. Sure, the sex had been phenomenal—truly something out of this world—but something last night was nagging her to not expect more of this, to know this seemingly perfect night would be a one off, not a regularly practiced event.

“Maybe I read things wrong,” Matt took a sharp breath, “or wasn’t clear enough last night.” He took one of her hands rather gently, his calloused thumb running over her knuckles with care. “But I certainly don’t want to make this a one time thing.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat. “What? Was I that good of a lay?”

Matt chuckled lightly. “My desire to keep you around has little to do with whether or not you were good in bed,” he felt her fingers tighten just a bit on his hand, “which you are, by the way. Fantastic, actually.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Why was she getting worked up about this? She knew that he couldn’t see them, but (Y/N) made quick work to dab her eyes with her free hand, using the cuff of the sweater, it was rather excellent at drying the baby tears. “I mean,” she laughed airily, “I knew that much already.”

His hand traveled up her arm, gingerly tracing along the fabric, up and down in slow languid motions—Matt hoped it was calming her down, even just a bit. The texture felt familiar, the softness almost calming him down, too. “I would very much like to see you again, (Y/N).”

“See me again?” her brow quirked, a giggle bubbling up from her chest.

“I—really?” he deadpanned, instantly freezing all motion.

She sniffled. “It was right there, Murdock, you make it too easy.” He tried to fight back a grin, but it was no use, she had broken his stony expression, the brilliant white of his smile peeking through. “But if that’s your way of asking me on a second date… I’d say yes.”

Matt’s grin didn’t falter, nor did his hand, it had slid back down to her own, gripping it with just enough pressure to assure that he was there—that he was hers, even for this moment. “Good, that’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Better than good,” he said, taking the opportune moment to lean in for a kiss. “It’s—wait.”

(Y/N) cocked her head, fully expecting by now to have Matthew Murdock entirely devouring her lips in this moment. His face was puzzled, he looked almost pained in thought. “What’s wrong? Is it my breath?” In truth, she didn’t have a toothbrush here at his place—why would she? So her morning breath must’ve turned him off so suddenly, right?

“Your sweatshirt.”

“My—what about the sweatshirt?”

“It’s my sweatshirt,” he said pointedly.

“Oh, I didn’t really want to put back on my dress from last night and saw this…” she trailed off for a moment, trying to read his face. “Is that okay?”

“No, like…. It’s just,” he smiled, “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“So you’re not upset?”

“Darling, you agreed to a second date and are wearing my clothes,” his eyes darkened, “I’m anything but upset.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Matt said, finally closing the distance between the two of them. What was originally meant to be a sweet kiss had completely flipped at the sudden realization of her current attire. Something about her wearing something of his lit him up like the Fourth of July, it seemed he was learning quite a lot about himself within the last 24 hours.

Their kiss deepened, hands flailing around the other without abandon—she managed to hook one in his hair, the other on his jaw, taking a dominant control over the encounter. Matt certainly didn’t seem to mind it, groaning into the touch. Between gasped breaths, he managed to pull them over to the couch with ease, dragging her down to the cushions beneath them.

“You’re,” kiss, “really good,” another kiss, “at this.”

Matt smiled against her lips, his fingers lingering on the bottom of her—his—sweatshirt. She gave a small nod, allowing him to all but rip the fabric off of her. He continued to attack her neck, sucking lightly at her pulse point, a finger circling on her side—she jolted at the contact. She was ticklish, he found, moving slowly down to the lace trim of her panties, fingers dancing playfully atop the trim.

“I’m even better at this,” he said, releasing his mouth from her skin, his fingers tapping softly at the lace. Matt moved his other hand to her inner thigh, feeling the rough irritation he had caused from the night before—she flinched slightly at the contact. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Without another word or worry, she kissed him. Promise or no promise, she had Matthew Murdock, and he had her.

Maybe she did want this after all.

#matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock #daredevil #marvel #matt murdock x reader #mcu #ooooooo baby was this a difficult one for me to figure out lol #but i like it all the same!!

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