#i struggled so hard with this so give me a break
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It's That Simple
Day 16: Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)
(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)
CW: Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.
Word Count: 5656
AN: This was requested by an anon!
AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.
It’s another terrible first date.
Bob struggles to even snag a first date. He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up. Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.
The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister. Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess: she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.
It ends when she gets a text. An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie. But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines. He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.
He should go home to lick his wounds. Another failed date, another night alone. He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.
He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.
-----
The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos. He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.
Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.
“Her loss,” Rooster offers.
Bob shrugs. It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.
It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.
“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.
“What? Why?”
Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug. “Because you’re….you. And I’m not like you at all.”
“So?”
He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse. As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side. It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand. But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.
“Nah, Baby on Board. You got it all wrong. You just need some confidence.” Another teeth-rattling shake. “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you. C’mon.”
Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.
-----
The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault: Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely. He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.
The second pair is a bust too. The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.
“Married,” she says, her words clipped. “Move along, sailor.”
The third pair? The third pair works out. Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.
But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes. You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.
“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy. “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”
-----
It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across. He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment. He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.
For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across. You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them. With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.
“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass. “Are you sad?”
You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you. He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—
“No!” You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there. “You’re gorgeous, Bill! Don’t even say you aren’t!”
He grins despite himself. “It’s Bob. But thanks. I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”
“Bob. Yes. Sorry. Bob, not Bill. I say it because it’s true.” You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer. You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.
“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him. “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know? Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake. “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome. Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky. You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’ Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”
Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face. He probably looks like a dope.
“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.
“Because it’s deadly!” You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again. “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”
Bob chuckles. “I’m a virus? Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”
“No, not at all. It’s just…” You trail off, polish off your drink. You wave down Penny for another. “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have. Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness. But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”
“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies. “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”
“Oh, them.” You flap a hand, a dismissive wave. “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob. You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”
“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”
“Ah, well!” You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish. “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby. I work for NASA.”
He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby. “You’re a rocket scientist? Definitely not an idiot, then.”
“Astrobiologist, actually. And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”
Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up. He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.
“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.
That makes you arch an eyebrow at him. “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”
“Not at all. It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet? Do you understand the power you have?” He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this: he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.
Of course he is. His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date. Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.
-----
The two of you stay until last call. Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.
Bob drives you home. You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door. He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.
It’s the first time he touches you.
He gets you inside. He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode. He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet. He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom. He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you. He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.
You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up. He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints. He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—
—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear. You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe: you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes. It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage. It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.
He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded. He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.
“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly.
The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin. You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism. He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number. He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.
He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful. He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced: you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.
“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”
-----
The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either. He’s in unfamiliar territory: things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners. He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest. If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.
He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there. You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.
You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.
“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool. You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends. “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”
Bob chuckles. He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours. “Well, I’ve been downgraded. You called me handsome that night,” he points out.
“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”
“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”
You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders. Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.
“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.
Bob ducks his head and grins “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.
A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter. You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting. When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.
“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him. “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”
“Of course.”
“No, I mean it.” Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer. “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t. You’re a good one, Bob.”
He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again. You don’t let him shrug off your thanks. You don’t let him downplay his goodness.
“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree.
Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.
-----
He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not. Neither of you actually says the word. You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse. He worries that he’s missed his chance. When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.
Of course Bob overthinks it. Bob overthinks everything.
He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too. That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.
And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct. In the end, you take charge.
-----
You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too.
What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers? Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?
Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place. It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.
“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.
“But what if—”
“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.” She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh. “And it’s always polite to, you know. Shower. Show up fresh-smelling and neat. Jesus Christ. Just go.”
So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand. Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes.
And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen. Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.
-----
Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues. He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another. He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.
But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him. The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.
Almost. A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat. You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.
Almost. He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches. He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him. He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.
“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.
“I am.” It’s that simple. No mind games, no coy pretending.
“It’s just me,” Bob says.
You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners. He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up. He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.
“It’s just me,” he repeats.
“And I like just-you,” you tell him. “Like-like, I mean. I wanted to tell you so tonight.”
His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand. “Sounds like you just told me then.”
“Guess so.” You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”
It’s that simple. After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid: just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.
-----
It feels too easy. After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that. It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.
It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew.
It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.
It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal. When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.
The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.
It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you. Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game. He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—
And he can’t get hard. His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.
The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling. He’s felt it a million times. He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time. The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.
“Bob? Bobby? Are you…okay?” You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.
“I’m sorry. Shit, honey. I’m…I gotta go.” He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly. You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—
“Hey.” You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him. “Hey, hey, hey. Take a second. Just breathe, Bobby.”
“I gotta—”
“Just relax.” You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin. “Breathe for me, okay? Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not. Fuck, it’s not!” He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks. Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out: every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself. Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome. How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—
“Hey. Whoa.” You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.
“Nothing’s ruined. You haven’t fucked anything up. Take a breath. Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”
He nods. “A little bit.”
“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”
Another nod.
“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”
“Yeah.” It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat.
“Hmm.” You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead. “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”
“No, honey, it’s okay—”
“His name was Justin.” Another soft kiss, this one to his temple. “Good job, good looking.” Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline. “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”
Bob chuckles weakly. “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.
You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek. “He was charming at dinner.” A kiss on his other cheek. “Said all the right things. Asked about my life and listened to my answers.” The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself.
“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.” Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away.
“It was Justin’s wife.” A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear.
“He was cheating,” Bob says.
“Nope.” A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck. “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play. Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.” Your lips skate over his pulse point. “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit is right.” You lift your head to gaze at him. “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too. So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date. You’re not even close.”
“Honey—”
“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.” You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.
“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for. You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.” You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.
“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.” You lean forward, kiss him gently. “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight. Don’t even think about needing to do anything. How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”
That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating. Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.
“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.
“See? It’s a sure thing, then.” You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.
-----
The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.
As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality. He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.
Loving on him means you touch him everywhere. You kiss him everywhere. You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack. You kiss every inch of his face and neck. You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.
Look at you, Bobby. Hiding this body away under that uniform.
You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs. You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.
“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.
“Holy shit,” you blurt out. “Bob, are you for real with this?”
It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size. He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them. The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment. He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.
This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again. You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this: your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear.
And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.
His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.
“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck. You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand. “Come for me like a good boy.”
He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say. Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you. He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume. The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand. He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes. He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.
“Just like that, baby.” You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile. “It’s that simple.”
#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#top gun maverick#kinktober 2023#tropes and tales
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“Don’t cry.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.
requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!
warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??
Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?
One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.
Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.
But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.
You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.
Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.
“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”
“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”
“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.
The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.
“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”
He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.
“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”
“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”
You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.
“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”
You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”
He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.
“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”
“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”
You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”
He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.
“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.
“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”
You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”
“Yes, you do.”
It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.
You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.
“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.
“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”
Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”
“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”
Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”
“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”
Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”
“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”
“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”
“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”
“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.
“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”
He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.
“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.
“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.
“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”
“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”
Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.
He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.
“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”
You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.
“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.
“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”
You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”
He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”
You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.
“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”
It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#requests#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb
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can you make a light and fluff gojo satoru story wherein you (who is not one to initiate sweet things) break satoru by initiating affection? (kissing, cuddling, confessing, praising, etc.) would love to see the usually flirty and "oh so great" gojo satoru flustered, speechless and a blushing mess, hehehe. lovesick satoru is the best satoru!!!! thank you! ♥️
I love when Satoru is flustered, a mess, nervous with their partners. Birdie Satoru also being like this in the upcomings chapters 😏
But here you have this small one shot, enjoy 🫶
You always make me nervous- Gojo Satoru
Words: 1.5k
Summary: You always struggle with giving the first step and afraid of your boyfriend getting tired of you, you decide to change that. What you didn’t expect was to see a new aspect of Gojo Satoru in the process.
Tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, pet names (love, honey, baby), fluff, comfort, just fluff, Gojo Satoru being a complete mess
Jujutsu Kaisen materialist
You had never been the type of person to show affection to others, it had always been something you had struggled with and you had tried to work on for years, but you still struggled. In fact, your last partner broke up with you for that same reason, you were not loving enough, affectionate, etc. Now with your new partner you had tried to change that but it was still difficult for you and it was always him, the one who took the first step, the one who kissed you first, the one who told you I love you first.
Satoru was the opposite of you, he was affectionate with everyone, he was not ashamed to show his affection for others and he was not ashamed to show how much he loved you when you were with his friends, although you often died of embarrassment when he filled your face with kisses, but at the same you felt how loved you were by him.
And you wanted to return that, you wanted also to show him all the love you were shy to show, to make him blush and nervous. So that day you were going to do it.
You looked in the mirror of your apartment. You and Satoru were going to meet for lunch that day and spend the rest of the day together, it was normal for the both of you to go out like this, having regular dates and spending quality time with each other.
“You can do it.” You whispered to yourself touching the necklace Satoru gave you last Christmas.
It was a rose golden necklace with an ‘S’ on it. When he gave it to you, there was a note with it that said:
“I want to wear his initial
On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck
Not because he owns me
But 'cause he really knows me”
You immediately recognized those lyrics and what song they belonged to. Satoru was the type to listen to the things you said and pick up on the little details. And the thing is, shortly after starting to date, on a trip where he took you in his car, that song started playing and you, without further ado, mentioned how much you loved the lyrics and what it meant. And that same Christmas he surprised you with that precious gift.
You kept hitting your head every time you remembered how you had reacted when you opened the box and read the note. Inside you were elated, your inner self was doing somersaults and wanted to cry but your outer self couldn't express itself. That's why you wanted to change, even though Satoru told you and repeated that he knew you had a hard time expressing yourself, but that he still loved you.
The doorbell to your apartment rang, breaking you out of your thoughts. You took a breath and smiled looking at yourself in the mirror, today you would do it, you would take the initiative. You grabbed your bag and went down to the street, where Satoru was waiting for you in a black coat, a turtleneck, and his usual dark glasses.
When you left the portal, you noticed that he still hadn't seen you so you sighed and touched your necklace again, reassuring yourself. You walked up to him and gently touched his arm. Satoru turned to face him smiling.
“You look so…”
“You look so handsome today Satoru!” You cut him, leaving him speechless.
“Oh, thank you honey, you too.” You could tell he was still processing your words.
“Let’s go.” And it was you who held his hand first and started walking.
“Honey…” You hummed. “Nothing. Yeah let’s go, I have a new restaurant we should try.”
You nodded and walked side to side. Your hands were sweating and your heart was beating loudly, you hoped Satoru wouldn’t notice any of it.
As you head to the restaurant, your head was racing fast, thinking about ways to show him love and appreciation. So you let go of his hand and clung to his arm, causing Satoru to look at you confused at your act. You just smiled at him and acted like he was the most natural thing in the world for you. But the truth was that you were screaming inside.
When you arrived at the restaurant, Satoru let you enter first and you both sat at a table next to the window. You ordered your food and waited for it to arrive.
“Honey…” Satoru called you out with the usual nickname.
A nickname that used to make you blush so much but with time you get used to it.
“Yes?” You smiled.
“You are okay?” You nodded. “Alright.” He held your hand.
“Don’t worry love, I’m okay.”
You did it! You called him love. And he was blushing. The image of Satoru blushing was one that you had wanted to see for a long time and you had finally gotten to see it and all with a simple loving nickname. The words had come out shakily from within you but once said you had felt how you floated and relaxed completely.
“Wow!” He laughed and swallowed, putting a hand on his mouth. “You just called me love?” You nodded. “That’s… that’s great, good, yeah good.” He nervously nodded.
So Satoru was capable of getting nervous that way, you made him nervous that way. You smiled to yourself as you realized this. Since you had met Satoru you had never seen him falter or blush, he had always been the bold and confident guy, and he was the one who made you nervous and made you blush.
The food arrived and while you ate Satoru told you about his day and you told him about yours. You both worked so you always looked for moments to be alone.
“What do you want to do now?” Satoru asked.
“What if… we go for a walk?” You suggested with a smile drawing across your face.
Satoru nodded and before he could make any movement you held his hand. You both left the restaurant again holding hands, you walked for a while to a nearby park. You wanted to take the next steps, you wanted to initiate a kiss and be the one who said more nice words to him that would make him blush and get nervous. When you arrived at the park you sat on a bench near the small lake where some ducks lived. You were silent, but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was comforting and pleasant.
“Satoru…” You called him after a few minutes, he hummed in response, turning his face to look at you.
As you ran your hands up your legs, trying to remove the sweat that had accumulated, a nervous energy ran through you. With trembling fingers, you gently cupped Satoru's face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Closing their eyes, they leaned in slowly, bringing their faces together until their lips met in a tentative kiss.
Your heart raced with anticipation and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as the connection deepened. Every touch, every sensation, felt electric and sent shivers down your spine.
When you finally pulled away, eyes still closed, you prepared yourself for his response, your heart pounding with anticipation. The trembling of your hands mirrored the fluttering of your chest, a silent recognition of the vulnerability you had just accepted. Little by little you began to open your eyes, finding Satoru's face looking at you.
“You just…” He began but soon enough he covered his face with both of his hands.
“Satoru?” You tilted your head confused.
He looked at you for a second and then smiled, placing his hand on his mouth to hide it. “Oh…you really.” He laughed subtly and you could see his dimples forming at the sides of his smile. “You are amazing, you know that?” He whispered, bringing his face closer to yours.
“Did I make you nervous?” You half smiled.
“Honey… You always make me nervous.” He caressed your face. “When I see you, I feel so pathetic and nervous.”
“But I never show you…”
“Hey!” He cut you off. “Don’t say what you are about to say.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I love you for who you are and I know you love me, that’s all I care about.”
You watched as he left a kiss on your cheek. “Still, I want to change that. I want to be able to show how much you mean to me and how much I love you. I want to be able to express those feeling and to be able to… you know be more affectionate.”
“I know, baby. But just know you don’t have to push yourself forward to do things you don’t want, alright?” You nodded. “That’s my baby. Now do that again.”
“Do what?” You tilted your head.
“Kiss me first.” He smiled.
You kissed him again, feeling how this time Satoru continued the kiss. You blushed a little bit and your heart skipped on your chest, but it was okay. It was really great.
#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x oc#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#fanfic jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#satoru x you#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen
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OMG ITS ME AGAIN
Sorry I forgot it I said it or not but I requested a reaction/headcanon of Tokyo revengers boys ! 🫶
(It was their reaction to their high achiever nd burnt out s/o coping w their stress by clinging to them!)
Tokyo revengers boys with high active s/o, and when s/o gets burnt out their s/o's cupping method is clinging to them.
Mikey:
Mikey, being the charismatic and caring leader that he is, always supports his high-energy significant other in any way he can. He loves seeing them happy and full of life, but he also understands that everyone needs a break sometimes. So, when his s/o inevitably gets burnt out from all their activities and responsibilities, Mikey is there to help them recharge.
When his s/o reaches their limit and starts feeling overwhelmed, their go-to method of coping is to cling to Mikey. They find comfort and solace in his presence, feeling safe and secure in his arms. Mikey, being the understanding and loving partner that he is, welcomes them with open arms. He holds them close, providing a sense of warmth and reassurance that everything will be okay.
Mikey knows that sometimes all his s/o needs is a moment of peace and quiet, away from the chaos of their busy lives. So he makes sure to create a calming atmosphere for them, whether it's by simply sitting together in silence or watching their favorite movie. He listens attentively to their thoughts and feelings, offering words of encouragement and support.
As they cling to each other, Mikey's s/o feels a sense of relief and relaxation wash over them. They feel recharged and ready to face the world once again, knowing that they have Mikey by their side. With his unwavering love and support, they know that they can overcome any obstacle together. And in those moments of vulnerability, they find strength in each other's embrace.
Daken:
Draken is initially taken aback by his s/o's high energy levels, but he soon finds himself drawn to their vibrant personality. He admires their passion and drive, and he enjoys the excitement they bring into his life. However, he also notices when they start to burn out from pushing themselves too hard.
When his s/o reaches their breaking point and starts to feel overwhelmed, Draken is quick to notice the signs. He can see the exhaustion in their eyes and the way they start to withdraw from their usual activities. Instead of pushing them to keep going, he understands the importance of giving them space to rest and recharge.
As his s/o clings to him for comfort during these moments of burnout, Draken's protective instincts kick in. He wraps his arms around them, providing a sense of safety and security. He may not be the most affectionate person, but in times like these, he shows his love through actions rather than words.
Draken makes sure his s/o knows they can rely on him for support, both physically and emotionally. He may not always know the right thing to say, but his presence alone is enough to bring a sense of calm to his s/o. He stays by their side, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear whenever they need it.
In these moments of vulnerability, Draken proves that he is not just a tough and intimidating figure. He shows his s/o that he is capable of being gentle and caring, willing to do whatever it takes to help them through their struggles. And as his s/o clings to him for comfort, he holds them close, silently promising to always be there for them no matter what.
Takemichi:
Takemichi is always seen as the weak crybaby hero, but when it comes to his significant other, he becomes a pillar of strength. His high energy partner always keeps him on his toes, pushing him to be more confident and determined. But when they inevitably hit a wall and burn out, it's Takemichi's turn to take care of them.
When his s/o is feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, their usual cupping method is to cling to Takemichi. They find solace in his presence, feeling comforted and protected by his unwavering support. Takemichi, despite his own insecurities and low self-esteem, becomes a source of stability for his partner during their vulnerable moments.
He holds them close, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear for their worries. Takemichi may not have all the answers, but his presence alone is enough to make his s/o feel safe and loved. He may not be the strongest or most confident person, but his empathy and kindness shine through when his partner needs it most.
In those moments of vulnerability, Takemichi proves that he is not just a crybaby hero, but a compassionate and caring partner who will always be there to support his s/o through thick and thin.
Mitsuya:
Mitsuya is a calm and level-headed person, but when it comes to his high-energy significant other, he finds himself constantly on his toes. His partner's enthusiasm and zest for life always keep him on his toes, but he wouldn't have it any other way. However, there are times when his s/o's high energy can lead to burnout, leaving them feeling drained and exhausted.
When his s/o reaches this point, Mitsuya is always there to support them. He notices the signs of burnout before they even realize it themselves. As soon as he sees his partner struggling, he gently encourages them to take a break and relax. Mitsuya knows just how important it is to take care of oneself, and he wants nothing more than to see his s/o happy and healthy.
As his s/o clings to him for comfort and support, Mitsuya wraps his arms around them in a warm and reassuring embrace. He holds them close, offering a sense of security and calmness. Mitsuya knows that sometimes all his partner needs is a shoulder to lean on, and he is more than happy to be that support for them.
Together, they find solace in each other's presence, finding comfort in the silence and the warmth of their embrace. Mitsuya's calm and loving nature is exactly what his s/o needs in moments of exhaustion and burnout. And with him by their side, they know that they can overcome any obstacle that comes their way.
Kazutora:
Kazutora may seem like a rough and tough guy on the outside, but when it comes to his significant other, he's surprisingly gentle and caring. His s/o is a high-energy individual, always on the go and rarely taking a break. However, there are times when even the most energetic person can get burnt out. When this happens to his s/o, their preferred method of comfort is to cling to Kazutora.
At first, Kazutora may be a bit taken aback by the sudden need for physical closeness, but he quickly adjusts and wraps his arms around his s/o, providing a strong and comforting presence. He may not be the best at expressing his feelings verbally, but his actions speak volumes as he holds his s/o close, offering silent support and understanding.
As his s/o relaxes into his embrace, Kazutora's own tension begins to melt away. He finds solace in being able to provide comfort to his loved one, knowing that he is a source of strength for them in their time of need. The quiet moments spent together in each other's arms help to recharge both of their spirits, strengthening their bond and deepening their connection.
Through this simple act of clinging to him, Kazutora and his s/o find a sense of peace and reassurance in each other's presence. It is in these moments of vulnerability and intimacy that their love for one another shines brightest, proving that even the toughest of individuals can have a soft and caring heart.
#tokyo revengers preferences#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers#Mikey#Mikey x reader#tokyo revengers Mikey#mikey headcanons#tokyo revengers draken#draken headcanons#draken x reader#tokyo revenger Takemichi#takemichi x reader#Takemichi headcanons#mitsuya x reader#mitsuya headcanons#tokyo revenger Mitsuya#kazutora x reader#kazutora headcanons#Tokyo revengers Kazutora
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Little Girl Gone- Emily X GN!Reader/BAU X GN!Reader.
Synopsis: Being back in your old town, it’s no surprise you’d have to see a person you never wanted to see again, the only difference this time is that you can handle yourself.
Warnings: Insinuations of past abuse but no details given, misuse of reader's pronouns by abuser not the team, talks of not handling past trauma but Emily is there for us, we’re really just a badass.
Word Count: 1.6k
A/n: THIS MAY HAVE A TRIGGER FOR ANYONE WITH PAST TRAUMA AND I DIDNT INCLUDE ANY DETAILS FOR THAT REASON, IF THAT MAY BE TOO MUCH FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP THIS ONESHOT. Other than that, yes this is based off a song leave me alone 🥰 You guys have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get something out for you guys, hopefully more will come soon!
☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎
You had heard he's back in town, and clearly, he hasn't changed a bit.
He was sitting there, appearing clueless, with you staring at him behind the glass. Your anger was boiling to the surface, and while it was clear to the team you were upset, they had no idea.
Your attention snapped back when a mention of your name was heard, the reason was beyond you, "That's what this is about? That bitch Y/n?" He chuckled and it made you sick. "Please, that little girl has nothing on me."
Hearing the way he said your name brought back some unfriendly memories you tried so hard to forget.
But when he muttered your name again, seeing how much it pissed Derek off, you knew you needed to do something. You have heard enough, it's not about you. It's about the 3 murdered girls.
You opened the door of the observation room to see Hotch standing there, "I'm going in there."
"That's not a good idea, you know that. He's trying to get under your skin."
"Hotch, with all due respect, I wasn't asking. Besides, I'm not the small child he last saw me as. I'm going in the there."
Hotch just quietly stood back, maybe a familiar face would get him to give them something they could use.
You walked into a familiar scene, Derek towering over the unsub shouting at the top of his voice, and the unsub pretending it's doing nothing to them.
"YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS-"
"Derek!"
With your interruption, both men stopped and looked towards you. Derek knew it was up to you, but he didn't like that idea.
And him. Oh, him.
He looked like he thought he'd finally got something he wanted if only he knew. Well, he would soon enough.
"Derek, I've got this. Go take a breather, I think Garcia has something she wanted to go over with you."
"I'm not leaving you in here with him." He stood tall in protest.
The man stood, suddenly filled with some form of faux confidence, "Yeah, little girl, you don't wanna be left here with me, unless you do?" His sadistic simper took over his face, his arm reaching out to touch you.
You grabbed his wrist and instantly snapped it back, flipping his arm behind him and then slamming him into the metal interrogation table.
"Oh, you wanna fight me now?" You pulled his arm further. "That little girl is gone. So tell me, are you big enough?"
"Fucking bitch!" His pain filled his voice and you tried to hide the joy it brought you.
"Do you feel that? Me twisting your arm until it breaks? Do you see how much stronger I've gotten?" He was struggling under you, and you were handling him with ease.
Derek was proud watching you, knowing the things that happened to you.
But the rest of the team was behind the glass watching carefully, they knew about him but not the things he'd done. But they did know your strength.
But now, he was groaning and mumbling something.
"Say that again, I didn't quite hear ya! You messed with the wrong 'bitch' in the wrong era!" You pulled him up off the table and shoved his face into the wall in a quick move, moving closer to him, "Honey, I changed so much since I last saw ya."
"I'm gonna say it, I'm proud of them." Rossi wasn't hiding his proud smile either as he watched you move him around like a rag doll.
You once again pulled him from the wall and slammed him back into the table.
"You know, maybe I will leave. I think I'd grab a cup of coffee, want some L/n?" Derek asked, knowing you definitely could handle yourself.
"I'm good, I'm awake now."
"NO NO NO! She'll kill me! You can't leave me alone with her!" He pleaded, as much as he could with his face smashed into metal.
"You know, I don't really think that's a bad thing. Do you, L/n?"
"Not at all."
He tried moving from your grasp, "No!"
"Then tell me where the girl is!" Derek slammed his hands on the table in his face, though he was still firmly pinned to the table all thanks to you, you could still feel the way he flinched.
Within the moments you walked into that room, the man finally showed how scared he actually was, realizing that now he truly is nothing.
"BOAT!"
You pull him off the table, holding him to face Derek and the team behind the mirror.
"What was that?" You asked, hearing what he said but needing more details.
"The girl. She's on a boat. Down at the marina, slip 7."
"Ah, so you do know what's good for you." Derek said as he left the room.
"No! Wait!"
A smirk came to your face, and you knew that if you weren't an active agent you'd definitely get your revenge.
In a swift move, you had him pinned to the wall by his throat.
You took a split second to look at the man that robbed you of so much.
My god did he look like shit.
Years didn't do him good, and the illegal things he tried to hide likely didn't help.
"You. You got lucky. I've got too damn much to lose if I go after you now," You were practically seething. "But know this, you are nothing. You are shit. I took all of what happened to me, and I made something of myself. I did. Me. So don't you think for one second that you ever had an effect on me." He definitely had an effect on you, years worth of effects. But he wasn't going to know that. He didn't need that.
He may have ruined the child you were, but he doesn't get to even be near the person you grew into.
You simply released him, part of the child that's still inside you wanted to do more but the other part of that child was so proud of how far you came.
You left him for the uniformed officer to take, walking out of the interrogation room to get some air or a drink, only there was something in your path.
Or rather, some people.
Half the team to be precise. David, Emily, and Reid were still in the precinct. And they just witnessed basically everything.
"I'm proud of you kiddo," Rossi spoke first, and only then did you release the breath you were holding.
"Thanks."
"I think this calls for a celebration, tonight. Your pick." He spoke with a head nod and walked out.
Reid just did his smile thing, and you knew you'd both likely have a conversation later.
But Emily, she stayed put, letting you go to her.
"You know you can let it out now, only if you want of course." She said finally as you walked up to her.
A shaky breath left you and you attempted to hide it with a faux chuckle.
She did know you the best.
"Come on, out with it. You know you can talk to me." Her damn eyebrow raise had you wanted to spill everything like always.
"I was so scared, Em." Another unstable breath came from your lips.
Emily reached up to wipe a tear you hadn't felt escape.
"God, I'd be worried if you weren't. You're only human." Her hand went to cup your cheeks, and for a second you simply looked into her eyes.
You didn't really know what to say, so you said nothing. You feared the only thing that would come out would be a sob.
"You handled that so well, and I speak for the team when I say I'm proud of you. It was hot the way you handled him." A small chuckle left you, she always knew how to get you to laugh.
"It just, brought back so many things I've tried for so long to forget." You looked to the floor with shame, ashamed it still got to you.
"Hey, look at me," She pointed your chin so you'd look at her. "Don't think that there's ever a right time to just 'get over it' because there's not. Everyone has their own timeline, and their own way of coping, that makes us human. And the fact that you didn't give in to the revenge you know you were thinking of, just shows how much you've grown."
She was right. Of course she was, when wasn't she? She knew the ins and outs of you. Every curve and every line. She knew your soul better than your body did.
"Come on, the team will finish the paperwork and we can go back to the hotel, you can shower and we'll meet them after for drinks." Your head rested against her shoulder as she put her arm around you while you both walked out of the precinct.
While you both arrived at your hotel room, the team safely got the girl from the boat, though she was a bit shaken up, she was unharmed. Physically, at least.
While the shower helped relax your tense body, it didn't help much with the resurfacing memories. You were simply disassociating at a cracked shower tile until Emily took it upon herself to be your distraction in the shower.
And of course, it certainly helped.
And later on, the team did their best to talk about pretty much anything but the case. Not like you were really upset about that honestly.
Having the people who you cared about around you, that's what helped the most. Having your love by your side and having your family around you.
🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮
Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @hxzxrdous @sgelessoanddoveykissing
I feel like I’m forgetting a few people on my tag list so comment if you want to be a part of my updated tag list!
#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss#bau team#criminal minds#badass reader#fanfic#oneshot#sapphic#fluff#bau x reader
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Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-
Chapter 4: No Place Like Home
WC: 5496 | Ch 4/4 | AO3 <-
It was a surprisingly smooth landing as Steve was brought into the highest tower of the Witch’s castle through a large open window, caught in the exceptionally strong grip of the two flying monkeys who carried him there.
Eddie had arrived the same way only a moment or two ahead of him, and was now struggling against his own guard monkey's hold, trying to get to Steve while being dragged out of one of the room’s two doors.
“It’s so kind of you both to visit me in my loneliness.” The Wicked Witch cackled, standing in the middle of the chamber next to a huge crystal ball, the image displayed within it fading before Steve could suss it out.
“What are you gonna do with Eddie? Where are they taking him?!” Now that his feet were on solid ground, Steve tried to fight back, but couldn’t seem to shake his captors.
The Witch waved a dismissive hand. “Never you mind about that.”
“Give him back to me!” Steve raged.
“Certainly, certainly, as soon as you give me those slippers.”
Steve swallowed hard, hesitating. He knew what Eddie would probably say, that it was a terrible idea to give her even more power—to give her what she wanted.
At his silence, she turned, addressing a few more of her little monsters that were waiting on standby around the room. “Very well. Boys?”
The flying monkey’s ears perked up.
“Hurt him.”
Steve braced himself as The Witch’s henchman quickly moved to follow her command, but it wasn’t him they were coming for, instead they raced out the same door Eddie had just been forced through.
“No!” Steve shouted, willing to risk anything if it kept Eddie safe. “Take the damn shoes, I don't care! Just don’t… don’t hurt him, please.”
She shot him a cruel grin, and the monkeys holding him finally let go, backing away as she stalked closer. “That’s a good boy.”
Steve snarled, briefly considering kicking her right in her smug face as she bent down, but thought she might be less likely to let Eddie go if he did.
Begrudgingly, he held himself still as she reached out her hands, but before she could even lay a finger on the shoes, there was a flash of light, a spark like electricity crackling, and a force lashed out to zap her.
The Witch jumped back, hissing. “Curse you!”
“That wasn’t me! I swear!”
“No, but I should have known. My sister must have put a spell on them. They’ll never come off… as long as you’re alive.” She circled him slowly, tapping the end of her pointed chin. “Now the only question is how to do it.”
“Oh for the love of—” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just kill me if you’re going to kill me, alright? Why do you people always have to drag shit out?
“What people?”
“Bad guys!”
She huffed, straightening her cloak. “These things must be done delicately, or you hurt the spell.”
“They're always monologuing about their evil plans too. I mean, what’s up with that?” Eddie’s voice rang out from where he had suddenly appeared in the doorway behind The Witch, somehow having given his guards the slip.
She stomped her feet. “I don’t mono—” She began, then gasped, spinning around. “How did you get free?!”
Steve wracked his brain to come up with some kind of distraction, anything to keep her busy long enough for them to get away.
“Hey, Witch!” He called out as he squatted to pick up the massive crystal ball he’d noticed on arrival, even heavier than it looked, and began to carry it towards one of the windows. “You don’t need this for anything important, right?”
“Put that back! It’s priceless!” she shrieked.
“It’s pretty heavy, I don’t know if i can–” Steve cut himself off, pretending to stumble, and tossed the ball as hard as he could, hoping she’d try to catch it.
She dove, and in an impressive show of strength and dexterity managed to get under the ball before it hit the ground, preventing it from breaking. She looked stunned from the fall, the weight of the crystal pinning her to the ground for the time being.
Steve made to run to Eddie’s side, but just then, the other set of doors burst open and half a dozen very tall foot soldiers in ornate uniforms, furry helmets, and with the same bright green skin as their ruler, spilled into the room, rounding on Steve and cutting them off from each other.
“Just go!” Steve shouted.
Eddie shook his head, eyes darting from the door behind him to what he could see of Steve between the soldiers. “I’m not running away and leaving you here!”
“Get out and find help! It's not running away if you’re coming back, right? Now— go!”
“Damnit, Harrington.” Eddie cursed, taking a few stumbling steps towards the way out. “I am coming back.”
“I know.”
With one last tortured look Eddie took off, his pounding footsteps echoing as he ran through the hall and down what sounded like a set of stairs. Half the guards took off after him while the others remained with Steve, backing him into the wall.
Steve craned his neck, near enough to a window to peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s escape and know first hand that he’d gotten away.
“Come on, come on,” he chanted quietly to himself, even as the soldiers started trying to pull him back over to The Witch, who was unfortunately back on her feet again. The castle doors began to close as he watched, and for a second Steve thought all hope was lost, but then he spotted it—moonlight shining on dark curly hair, slipping through the opening just before the door slammed.
Steve’s heart leapt, and he finally let himself be led back over to The Witch. No matter what else happened here, at least Eddie had made it.
“You’ve been more trouble to me than you’re worth, brat!”
“Heard that before.” Steve mumbled to himself. He didn’t fight as the hands on him shoved him down into a chair, figuring it was smarter to save his strength for now.
“But, it'll all be over soon,” The Witch added as she snatched a giant hourglass off a nearby shelf, flipping it over onto the table in front of him. “That’s how much longer you've got to be alive. When the sand runs out, I'll have made my preparations.”
With that, she and her soldiers left, locking both doors up tight, leaving him alone in the tower.
Steve didn’t waste time wondering why he wasn’t tied down or handcuffed, and was out of his seat in a flash. First he checked the doors because, duh, but they were, indeed, locked. He then ran back over to the window, wondering if he’d survive the drop. It didn’t seem likely—even if he did, there was no way he’d walk away from that kind of fall without needing serious medical attention, and he had yet to see a single hospital in Oz.
His next move was to search the room for weapons, something to break the doors in, or anything he might be able to use to climb down. The curtains proved to be useless, moth bitten and too slippery to really tie together, and apart from a chair leg he managed to break off that doubled as a wooden stake, he found nothing else useful to defend himself with.
Time passed slowly.
And yeah, Steve had been through a lot in his life, but he’d never been kidnapped before. He never would have imagined it could be this… boring?
There was only so long you could stand at attention, waiting for your captor to come back before your eyelids started to droop. He wound up sitting at the windowsill, head resting on his arm as he gazed out at the night sky, letting his mind wander. He didn’t really believe this was the last night of his life, he’d survived too much to be taken down by some psychotic pea-soup looking bitch, but any hope he had of seeing home again was gone.
He thought back on all the time he’d wasted—squandered opportunities to tell the people he loved just how much he loved them, the number of times he blew Dustin off to go on a date with some girl he couldn’t give two shits about, all these months since Vecna with Eddie, unable to accept his own feelings, and too afraid to admit them aloud.
He was so lost in it all that he almost didn’t hear the sound of someone pounding on one of the doors. Reasonably sure The Witch wouldn’t be knocking in her own castle, he ran to it, pressing his ear to the wood.
“Steve?!” A muffled voice shouted from the other side.
Eddie!
“It’s me, yes! In here!”
“Stand back, I’m going to chop through the door!”
Steve stepped back, watching in awe as the wood slowly splintered away with each blow, until finally he could see Eddie’s face through it, distantly thinking it looked like he had some sort of animal resting on his head.
A few more chops and there was a hole big enough for Steve to squeeze through.
Once on the other side, he saw that Eddie wasn’t alone. The Tin Woman, The Scarecrow, and The Lion were all with him—all dressed like The Witch’s soldiers.
“Costume change?” Steve asked.
“Long story.” Eddie let out a shaking breath as he tore the fuzzy hat from his head and flung it aside, managing to shrug out of his big coat just in time to catch Steve as he threw himself into the other boy’s arms.
“I wasn’t sure I'd ever see you again.” Steve whispered with his face pressed into Eddie’s hair.
“You didn’t think I was really coming back?”
“I knew you’d try, even if I hoped you wouldn’t.”
Eddie squeezed him tighter. “You’re such a self sacrificial ass.”
“Takes one to know one.” Steve pulled back, punching him lightly in the shoulder before turning to The Scarecrow, drawing her into a quick hug too. “I can’t believe it, you’re really okay?”
“Might be missing a little stuffing here and there but, these two did a great job getting me back in one piece.”
Their reunion was abruptly cut short by shouts in the distance.
“We gotta get out of here!” The Lion roared.
“What about the broom?” Steve said.
Eddie grabbed his hand. “She wants to kill you, Steve, fuck the broom! We’ll find some other way home.”
The group of them flew down the stairs back towards the way they’d come in. By some miracle they didn’t see a soul along the way, but as they raced across the foyer, just before they reached the exit, the doors swung closed, right in their faces.
“Going so soon?”
Steve turned at The Witch’s voice, spotting her standing on a balcony above looking down at them, laughing, as soldiers began spilling into the space from every direction. They were surrounded, though oddly none of the green men actually attacked, only approached slowly and menacingly.
“That’s right,” The Witch praised her guards. “Don’t hurt them right away, we’ll let them think about it a little first.”
Steve rolled his eyes.
Eddie raised the ax he still held, as though he would take on the entire brigade himself, but The Scarecrow snatched it out of his hand.
“What the–”
She swung it around, chopping and cutting a rope tied to the wall that Steve hadn’t even noticed, and sent a giant chandelier falling from the ceiling to land on a large group of the soldiers.
“Good thinking!” Steve said, and they used the momentary distraction to flee, running up a different set of steps to get away since it was the only path that was clear. They had no idea where they were going, and up didn’t seem likely to lead out, but they had little choice now.
The soldiers unaffected by the chandelier attack gave chase, and the five of them ran down corridor after corridor before finally spilling out onto the battlement, a part of the wall where soldiers patrol. It was a dead end and quickly they found themselves backed into a corner, soldiers on both sides, The Wicked Witch among them.
“Well,” she sing-songed as she zeroed in on Steve, “ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears. Thought you’d be pretty foxy didn’t you? Well the last to go will see the first four go before him.”
Eddie leaned into Steve’s side, whispering, “What the hell did she just say?”
“I have no idea.” Steve said.
“I think she’s going to kill the rest of us first and make you watch.” The Scarecrow guessed.
“Right you are, Scarecrow. So how about a little fire?” The Wicked Witch raised the head of her broom up to one of the many torches that ran along the length of the wall, lighting it.
There was no way Steve was letting her anywhere near The Scarecrow with that thing, she’d go up in seconds and unlike being disassembled he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to come back from that. He lunged for the broomstick before she could lower it, grabbing it in the middle and fighting for control.
The next thing Steve knew he was being soaked in water like he was a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.
The fire was put out instantly, the broomstick clattering to the ground as The Witch started screaming bloody murder.
“Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Who would've thought two pretty-boy-brats like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.”
It was only water—from the now empty bucket Eddie was holding that he’d found god knows where—but as though she’d been dipped in the most corrosive acid known to man, The Witch began to sizzle and smoke, and truly did melt away into a puddle on the stone floor, leaving nothing solid but her clothes behind.
“She’s dead, you killed her.” One of the soldiers blurted out.
Steve hovered, trying to shield Eddie, unsure of how this was going to play out. The witch might have been gone, but they were still sorely outnumbered if her henchman’s loyalty extended past the grave.
But Eddie wasn’t having it. He remained in front, tilting his chin up. “Honestly, it was an accident, but she did try to kill us first, so—fair is fair.”
There was a moment of absolute silence before the entire army, monkeys included, let out a deafening cheer. “Hail to Steve and Eddie! The Wicked Witch is dead!”
Eddie looked back at him, jaw dropped, and Steve could only smile.
When the cacophony died down, Steve approached the first soldier who spoke, supposing he might be the leader or general or something. “The broomstick, can we have it?”
“Yes, of course! Please, take it with you.”
After a short reunion with a certain stunned-to-see-them-still-alive guard, fresh off what must have been an epic frolic through the poppy field and subsequent mystical slumber—if the state of his very red and heavy lidded eyes was any indication—Steve, Eddie, and their companions once again entered The Wizard’s throne room.
“Why have you come back?!” The deep voice of the Wizard rumbled through the air.
“We did what you asked.” Steve said simply, holding the Witch’s charred broom above his head.
They all waited with bated breath for some kind of response, but were met with nothing. After a few long moments Eddie took the broomstick from Steve and stepped forward.
“The Wicked Witch is dead, and uh, we brought you the broomstick.” He cleared his throat loudly, unceremoniously tossing the burnt bit of wood in the direction of the dais. “So, make with the wish granting, yeah?”
“I’ll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow.” The voice eventually responded.
“Tomorrow?!” Eddie snapped.
Steve shook his head, hands balled into fists at his sides. “But we wanna go home now!”
“We did everything you asked!.” The Tin Woman argued.
“Yes! At least send them home! They deserve it after performing such a great public service!” The scarecrow added, staring defiantly up at the floating head.
As the others jumped in to help argue their point, Eddie began to look around the room, searching, and beckoned Steve to follow him. They quickly found something odd tucked in a dark corner that seemed not only out of place, but frankly looked like an obvious control center of some sort hidden behind a green curtain. How hadn’t they noticed it before?
Together they crept closer, each grabbing one side of the cloth, and on a silent count of three…
“Do you dare to criticize the Great Oz? Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of twenty—”
…Flung the curtain back to reveal a young girl, about their age, with red hair, a bowler hat, and an all around Molly Ringwald vibe.
“...years from now.”
She swiveled in her chair as she finished her sentence, the words a strange mix of the booming voice they’d been hearing, and her actual voice coming through as her mouth got further from the contraption she was using to alter it.
“Ah, shit.” The girl, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Robin’s almost-girlfriend Vickie, sighed as she spotted the two of them, realizing she’d been caught in the act.
The others came over to join the party just as Eddie got up in her face. “Who the hell are you?”
She looked down, fingers playing with the hem of her top. “Would you believe… The Great and Powerful Oz?”
“What a scam! You’re a phony!” Steve shouted.
“I am, yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “These are all tricks I learned working with a magician at the State Fair.”
Eddie fumed. “You sent us on a suicide mission!”
“And I'm very sorry about that!” She said quickly, holding her hands up. ”In my defense, I didn't actually expect you to go after The Witch, I thought if I gave you an impossible task you would just give up and not come back. Then my reputation could stay intact.”
“I suppose this means no brain for The Scarecrow, or heart for me, or courage for The Lion?” The Tin Woman said.
“You don’t need me for that, you already have all those things. Think about it, Tin Woman. Was it not for the love of your friends that you helped them to get here, and to defeat the Wicked Witch? Someone with no heart wouldn’t do that.”
The Wizard smiled, rising from her chair, facing The Lion next.
“And you, Lion. What, you think just because you’re afraid that makes you a coward? You still did it, you still stood by your friends. See, the trick isn’t to not be scared, it’s to be scared and do it anyway. That’s courage.”
The Wizard turned lastly to face The Scarecrow and audibly gasped, her face turning an incredibly bright shade of red. “You, um, you helped to argue your friend's cases well, and I-I think it’s quite clear that you have a-a brain.” She paused, swallowing hard. “A b-big gorgeous brain, with, just—so many thoughts. I… sorry I don't usually—”
She trailed off, completely flustered and unable to look away from The Scarecrow’s face.
For a moment The Scarecrow looked equally entranced by the Wizard, but then she frowned, looking back at Steve and Eddie. “But, what about the boys? They want to go home.”
The Wizard bit her lip. “Well, I might have a way to get them there, but it would mean taking them myself, never to return.”
“Will you?” Eddie asked.
“Of course,” She said hesitantly, looking from him and Steve to The Scarecrow and shook her head. “I—of course. I used to live in Indiana too, y’know. I was working at the fair, like I said, and one morning the boss asked me to test the propane tanks in the hot air balloon. I didn’t know what I was doing but it seemed easy enough. Damn thing took off on me, and just never came down. I got caught in a wind storm and landed here in Oz, came up with this ruse about being a Wizard and, well, you get the idea.”
“Do you still have the balloon?” Steve asked.
She grinned. “How do you think we’re getting you home?”
-
Steve and Eddie finally leaving Oz turned out to be a grand spectacle, with every citizen wanting to thank them for ridding their lands of not one, but two Wicked Witches, in such a short span of time. Even Glinda had made the journey to see them off.
The balloon was set up in the middle of the square, and as The Wizard checked and re-checked her equipment, Steve and Eddie set about saying their farewells.
They hugged The Tin Woman and The Lion, and while It was difficult to say goodbye to them, it was nothing to the way Steve felt about leaving The Scarecrow. He had his own Robin, his best friend, waiting for him back home, but he felt connected to this version of her almost as strongly.
It didn’t help that he’d seen the way she and The Wizard had been looking at each other since the moment they’d met.
“Alright boys, ready to go?” The Wizard asked, looking sad.
“No,” Steve answered, turning an apologetic look on Eddie. “I can’t. I can’t ask her to leave forever, not if…”
“It’s okay, Steve. I saw it too. I want to go home, but I feel terrible.”
“Maybe Glinda can help?” Steve said.
One mention of her name and suddenly The Good Witch was right beside them, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power to go back to Hawkins.”
Steve blinked at her. “I have?”
“Then why didn't you tell him that before?!” The Scarecrow asked.
“Because, Steve had a few things he needed to figure out first. Isn’t that right?”
Steve gulped, giving her wide eyes.
“I don’t get it.” The Lion said.
The Tin Woman shushed him, patting his hand. “I’ll explain it to you later.”
Eddie tilted his head. “What does she mean, Steve?”
“Well, I-I.” Steve stammered, eyes darting between Glinda and Eddie.
The Good Witch smiled, nodding encouragingly. “If you are ready to accept the truth, those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds.”
Steve but his lip. ��Eddie too?”
Glinda laughed, high and bright. “Of course, Eddie too. Now stand together, and facing each other.”
They did what she asked, and while he remained quiet, Eddie was giving him that curious look again.
“What do I have to do, are there, like, magic words?” Steve asked.
“There are lots of magic words, Steve, but to get home you need only close your eyes, tap your heels together three times, and show the truth that is in your heart.
There was only one way Steve could think of to show the truth, so…
He took a deep breath, closed the space between him and Eddie, and crashed their lips together. His eyes fell shut as Eddie kissed back, melting into it—and as Eddie threaded gentle fingers through his hair, Steve clicked his heels together, three times.
-
“Steve?”
Eddie’s voice rolled over him out of the dark, tinged with concern.
Steve groaned, disoriented, his neck aching from the angle it was at, and he could feel a bit of drool drying on his chin.
“Stevie, wake up.” This time Eddie gently shook his shoulder, and Steve’s head snapped up, eyes popping open wide. He looked around wildly, confused to find that he was slumped in a chair behind the desk at Family Video—but it didn’t matter where they’d landed, he supposed, the shoes had worked, they were back!
“Did he fall asleep again?” Robin’s voice called out from directly behind, and Steve spun around so fast he knocked his chair over, which in turn knocked over a small stack of tapes.
He ignored the mess, pulling her into a tight hug. It was really her! No straw, no burlap, just a sweatshirt she’d stolen from his closet two nights ago, with her work vest over the top.
She shook her head like he was an idiot, but hugged him back anyway before letting go to set the chair back on its legs. “I was only in the back rewinding returns for half an hour!”
“Oh,” Steve breathed, finally registering what she’d first said, and felt suddenly lost. He could have sworn it was real, but Robin wasn’t freaking out the way he knew she would have if he’d disappeared for an entire night and day…
Or was it two?
The more he thought about it the less sure he was of how long he and Eddie had been stuck in that colorful other dimension.
If—if he had been stuck in another dimension.
Robin said he’d been asleep, and he was just slumped in his chair at the desk at the end of his shift, and there Eddie was, right in front of him looking amused, if a little worried, and… and wearing a completely different shirt than he’d had on as they trekked through—
Oh.
Eddie, who was here to pick him up for their hang out because Robin was borrowing his car.
Steve groaned again, rubbed his temples. “I had such a weird dream.”
“Was it a nightmare?” Robin asked.
It was a fair question, and something they all experienced from time to time even this many months out from their final dealings with the Upside Down. But this…this had been something wholly different.
“I’m not sure.” He settled on, yawning as he fought to think through the fog that was slowly lifting from his brain. Had it really all been in his head? A dream, a fantasy?
“Some of it wasn't very nice, but—” He glanced at Eddie again and felt a blush spread over his face. “Most of it was beautiful.”
“You were there.” Steve continued, giving the other boy a little nod. Eddie’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.
Steve turned to Robin next. “You were too—and Nancy, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and—” he trailed off, trying to remember everyone else he’d encountered along the way.
Eddie chuckled. “Did Robin make you watch The Wizard of Oz on repeat again?”
Steve froze.
Oz, yellow brick road, Munchkins…
He was such an idiot.
“It was slow this morning!” Robin lashed out, defensively. And you know I’m seeing Vickie tonight, I needed my comfort movie to settle my nerves!”
“Yes, I am well aware of your impending date, Buckley, hence me and my van being here to play chauffeur.”
Steve checked the time, he still had about fifteen minutes until he could officially lock up and clock out. “You’re early.”
Eddie shrugged. “I still have to pick us a movie for tonight. You go do your closing duties, or whatever, I'll be perusing the stacks.”
Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away as Eddie walked off. He could still remember the other boy’s fingers pushing into his hair, gently cradling his head as they’d kissed—how his lips had felt so incredibly soft.
He wondered if it would be the same in real life.
“Steve… did you OD over there?”
Steve startled as, once again, Robin's voice came from directly behind him, though much softer this time. He took her hand, pulling her to the other side of the room.
“Do you remember that thing we talked about?”
She scrunched her nose. “Which thing?”
Steve sighed, speaking low. “You know, the… how some people go both ways, thing?”
She gasped, grabbing his arm, and looked back over her shoulder to where Eddie was still browsing, before whispering, “Do you mean…?”
Steve nodded, unable to stop his mouth from spreading into a wide grin.
“Are you gonna tell him tonight?!”
“Yeah, I think so.” Steve bit his lip. “Well, that, or maybe just stick my tongue down his throat the second we’re alone.”
Robin snorted. “And they say romance is dead.”
“Okay smart-ass, how do you think I should go about it?”
“I think—it doesn’t matter what you say or do, because that boy is just as crazy about you as you are about him.”
“I hope so.” Steve looked down, wringing his hands. “I really like him. I-I might even–” He trailed off, too afraid to finish the thought even though he knew it was the truth.
“I know, dingus.”
At the other end of the store, tape in hand, Eddie began to make his way to the counter.
Robin gave Steve a little push towards the break room door. “You go splash some water on your face and change. I'll get your man checked out.”
“Not mine yet.”
“He will be. I’m proud of you, Steve.”
“Thanks, Robbie.”
As much as he’d joked to Robin about just going for it, Steve spent the whole drive to the new Munson trailer trying to compose the perfect speech to tell Eddie how he felt, but by the time they arrived he had nothing to show for his efforts but sweaty palms and anxiety.
Should he have just reached over the center console, taken Eddie’s hand, and hoped he got the hint? Maybe he shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. No, no. Steve was supposed to be good at this! Eddie deserved more, he deserved the perfect moment.
“You, uh, planning on coming inside?”
Steve sucked in a breath, snapping to attention, and realized Eddie had already gotten out of the van and come around to open the passenger door.
“Sorry.” Steve’s face grew hot as he climbed out of the van. “Guess I'm still feeling a little out of it from falling asleep earlier.”
Eddie frowned, reaching up to feel Steve’s forehead with the back of his hand.
“Are you sure that’s all? You do feel a little warm.”
“I’m fine.” Steve ducked his head, throwing off the touch, though what he really wanted was to lean into it, and followed Eddie inside.
Eddie went right for the kitchen, throwing the bag from Family Video bag on the counter before diving into the fridge, digging out two beers.
Steve tried hard not to stare as Eddie bent over, reaching for the bag for something to do instead, and pulled the single tape out, flipping it over to the cover.
“Seriously? Return to Oz?”
Eddie turned, grinning as he took a sip from his own bottle, sliding the other one towards him. “Come on, that's funny!”
Steve huffed a laugh and tossed the tape back onto the counter.
“And, y’know… it’s a good movie.” Eddie went on, grin slipping a little as he set his beer down and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away—looking nervous, Steve realized. He realized something else too—there was never going to be a perfect time, or a perfect way to say what was in his heart. He knew how he felt, and he was pretty sure he knew how Eddie felt now too, or at least his subconscious did. Now he just needed to take that leap of faith.
“I know you don’t really like all the horror stuff me and the kids usually make you watch, and since it’s just the two of us I figured—”
In the middle of Eddie’s adorably flustered ramble Steve stepped around the kitchen counter, took the other boy’s face gently between his hands, and crushed their mouths together.
Eddie went very still under his touch and Steve quickly pulled back, panicked for a moment that he had it all wrong, until Eddie wound his arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt as he pressed him into the counter, and suddenly Steve was the one being kissed.
And what a kiss it was.
At the first brush of tongue Steve smiled into it, unable to contain his joy because Eddie had kissed him back!
When they finally pulled apart again, Eddie blinked hard, looking dazed. “Shit, Steve, am I–am I dreaming right now?”
“God I hope not.” Steve went right back in, winding his hands into Eddie’s hair as their lips met again and again, their bottles of beer forgotten, left to grow warm on the counter.
-
Later that night, when the movie was over—not that they’d seen much of it—after they’d actually talked and made their relationship official, and made out so much that Steve’s lips were sore, they curled up in Eddie’s bed together.
As he burrowed deeper into Eddie’s side, and Eddie wrapped his arms around him even tighter, Steve let out a contented sigh.
Dorothy had it right—there really is no place like home.
Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!
#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie wizard of oz#adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie#gift fic
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I find it kind of crazy how misinformed Hugh Dancy is about autism- especially considering him playing Will Graham and Adam. And not only that, but the fact that he talks about it somewhat frequently in interviews/panels. I wanted to break down a couple things that he said so that we all understand why they’re wrong
“We’re all on the spectrum, it’s a spectrum”
While autism is a spectrum, not everybody is autistic and therefore not everybody is on the spectrum. A good way to think about this is in terms of pregnancy. If you’re pregnant, you can be in the first, second, or third trimester and it just depends on the person and how far along they are. That being said, if you’re not pregnant, you’re not on the “spectrum of pregnancy” if that makes sense. You’re just simply not pregnant. I think this rhetoric is extremely harmful because it gives the impression that you can be “a little” autistic. While this does somewhat humanize autism, it also diminishes the struggles that autistic people go through. So no, not everyone is on the spectrum. It being a spectrum simply means that not every autistic person has the same traits to the same severity. It means we all experience each trait differently to one another.
“He’s too porous. He’s shut down because he receives too much information from people and it’s painful as opposed to not being able to read them”
This part bothers me the most because it’s such a blatant misunderstanding about what autism is. He literally describes the daily experiences of autistic people and then uses that as a defense as to why Will is not autistic. Autism quite literally is being too porous. Autistic people’s brains don’t have the filter that allistic (non autistic) brains do- this is a proven fact. This means we can’t filter out what we need to, hence sensory issues, extreme empathy, and general processing issues. I’m tired of hearing “Will Graham can’t be autistic because he experiences extreme empathy” as if differences in empathy aren’t autistic traits. While some autistic people can have no empathy or little empathy, there are plenty of autistic people who are hyper empathetic, to their detriment, just like Will Graham. Will’s inability to separate his connection with people from his daily life is almost an obvious indicator to autistic viewers (or anyone who knows about autism) that Will Graham is autistic. And the part where he says he absorbs too much instead of simply not being able to read them is a gross oversimplification of what happens in an autistic person’s head when we socialize. We do absorb everything, which is why it’s so hard to process it all. We absorb more than an allistic person. This can be incredibly painful, which seems to be Will Graham’s experience. It’s just crazy to me how he can basically describe the autistic experience, and then claim that’s why this character isn’t autistic.
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Ahhh Zavok and Tails are waaaaay too cute right now. More more please please!!!!! How about Zavok noogies Tails, please? Please please 🙏🙏
kind of my own interpretation of the ask, and i debated on whether or not to draw my Zavok or not, but someone on discord chose for me :) hope it's good.
#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#zeti#sonic zeti#zavok#zavok the zeti#deadly six#sonic deadly six#tails#tails the fox#miles tails prower#sonic tails#also the pose is bad and i messed up the layering screams#i struggled so hard with this so give me a break#annnnd i just realized the tail looks like its coming from his back#kms rn#/j
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lately i've been finding it so so hard to be positive and hopeful. and it's making me so bitter and hateful. i hate it but i dont know what to do about it
#idk it's just all too much to deal w#i have sm pains and physical discomforts. money issues. stress bc my avpd is making school very hard for me to finish#i have suicidal thoughts and really bad anxiety every single day. i've basically begged the mental health care system for help for 7 months#like i've kept contacting them and asking them but they havent done anything at all for me. i dont even get to see anyone and talk#i just dont know what to do or how to handle it#im so stressed abt the future. i have to finish school but then choose smth so i can go to school/get a degree & get a job#im holding my mom down and back and i need to find a way to kove out from her and support myself#i have no friends to meet or hangout with and destress with etc etc and im really feeling the lack of it#idk the list just goes on and on and on#nothing is working and idk how to fix it. but also i know that me and only me have to find a way bc there is no help#i struggle bc of my avpd and mental health but there is no treatment for me to get. they just dont wanna give me *any* help at all#im just so frustrated. and every day is the same. everyday is full of some physical pain anxiety stress worries suicidal thoughts etc etc#i cant break free idk how!!!! my life is so fkn boring and pathetic and miserable#i never get to relax bc all of a sudden last year i got extremely noise sensitive. and it's never quiet anywhere in this city#anyway yeah i could just keep going. and like now im feeling anxious bc my tooth is aching :((#it -everything- never stops or lets up or relents. and it makes me wanna die even more.#so... idk im just incapable of being hopeful abt anything and that's really killing me idk
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experiencing fhjy while currently being in the equivalent of junior year is so. Yeah that's what it's like that's how school treats you that's how I'm feeling RIGHT NOW. I love how perfectly accurate it is and I also hate it so much because they don't deserve to go through this shit
#like fuck man#im currently fucking struggling through school clawing my way to exams so i can stop dealing with all this bullshit and have a life#and i cannot WAIT until its over cause next years gonna be the chillest#but fuckin hell man some of these moments#adaine struggling cause the school just won't provide the resources she needs. fabian dealing with a 150% workload + ecs.#kristen being genuinely gifted but finding the paperwork so awful that her grades are plummeting.#gorgug being told he cant do what he wants to do because they want to keep him focusing on the path he chose when he was 14.#riz trying to keep his friends together because if they separate he doesnt know what hed do#ough#kristen especially is resonating with me HARD her entire energy is so fucking relatable rn#its giving burnout its giving tired undiagnosed teenager its giving doesnt know wtf theyre doing#shes strongly considering dropping out but then looking back and going FUUUCK I KNOW I GOTTA JUST PUSH THROUGH#shes hating the work its making enjoying the subject harder shes needing a break and nobodys willing to give her one#shes so me this year actually. realest ever I'll defend her til i DIE#d20#fhjy
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@espectres : "daisuke being a loser is so important" TSUN PLEASE AJSGAJSGJSVSHSVZFS
HE'S MY FAVORITE LOSER. AND HE'S YOUR FAVORITE LOSER, TOO
#espectres#reply.#OGBAFJSKKLAKAJJKGLKJG#NO I'M SERIOUSSSSSS#TO ME ANIME LUCIFER BEING A FAILBOY IS SO REAL!!!!! JUST LIKE PARADISE LOST!!! CHRISTINE WASN'T A QUEEN EITHER#SHE WAS V CUTE BUT SOOO OVERWHELMED BY THE SHIT ERIK WAS MAKING HER DO!!!!#BUT DAISUKE'S KEY CHARA STRENGTH IS THE WAY HE FR DOESN'T COMPROMISE HIMSELF FOR DARK EITHER!!!!#HE'S A LOSER DARK TRIES TO DIG AT THE FACT THAT EVERYONE THINKS HE'S THE ONE THAT'S COOL#'RISA LIKES ME NOT YOU' AND DAISUKE HAS NO DEFENSE. IT'S TRUE. IT BREAKS HIS HEART. HE ALMOST GIVES UP#BUT HE DOESN'T!!!!#HE /IS/ THE MC BUT HE'S ALSO AN UNDERDOG NOT LIKE THE WAY TAIZE WAS#OSTRACIZED AND OUTCAST BY HIS OWN FAMILY BC HE WANTED TO REJECT HIS DESTINY#DAISUKE JUST STRUGGLES W ACCEPTING OR REJECTING HIMSELF BC HES A LOOOOSERRRRRRRR#only people who recognize how hard he ALWAYS TRIES RESPECT HIM!!! EVERYBODY ELSE SAYS HE'S NO GOOD AND LAUGHS AT HIIM!!#he's clumsy he's harsh on himself he takes WAY more responsibility than he should for things that literally aren't even his real own FAULT!#the part of him that can't stand dark the part of him that can't stand BEING dark#bc he says it 'doesn't suit him' or he feels not cut out for it. towa arc's fuckign insane line#'as if i could be dark...' AND IT'S DAISUKE'S DREAM!!!!! OR VOLUME FUCKING ONEEEEE#'I'M NO PHANTOM THIEF DARK CHANGE ME BACK' ITS ABT CONFIDENCEEEEE ITS ABT CHANGEEEE#IT'S SO IMPORTANT THAT HE'S A LOSER. ESP WHEN I HAVE A DUPE AROUND. BC HE CAN LOOK BACK#AND SEE HIMSELF AND TELL HIMSELF IT'S GONNA BE OKAY. HE'S GONNA GET TO AN OKAY PLACE.#EVERYTHING'S GOING TO WORK OUT AS LONG AS HE CONTINUES TO BE HIMSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!
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*checking the tracking information for my package from under a pile of overpriced teas and vitamins* this next herbal supplement will fix me
#g o d what is up with my brain thats been making everything so hard recently#like. im in a job that im MUCH happier with now and loving it. im no longer living a waking trauma nightmare as a call center sup#...why is my brain acting like im forcing it on a trek through fucking mordor just trying to get through a normal day at work#im on break from school. why am i not able to do any of the things that i wanted to do during the semester but was too busy for#why am i not able to do anything that i want to do and if i DO manage to do it why am i not able to enjoy it#why am i living like every moment of my life in fear that im wasting my time or doing something wrong or not good enough#and like i KNOW the answers are adhd and depression and anxiety#but my buddy. my pal. @ the wrinkly fleshy thing in my skull#im on 6 different psychiatric medications with a total of up to 11 individual pills per day. im actively in therapy and have been for years#and my life is currently much better than it maybe has ever been! WHY am i still struggling so hard 😭#like i know recovery isnt a straight line and etc etc but like. it just feels like im doing everything im 'supposed' to do so what gives#so. gonna start drinking more plants i guess and see if that helps. im already on some that seem to help but i think i need more now#bc im having a bad time in my brain prison tbh :(#im not even like upset typing all this out either im just like. bewildered. incredulous. exhausted#lets hope this new overpriced tea fixes me i guess#rambling
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i don't imagine many of u will know what i'm talking about but i just beat lies of p's laxasia with parries only and i'm kinda speechless
#🍑.txt#shadakfjhadjk IT FELT LIKE SUCH AN IMPOSSIBLE TASK BUT I WANTED TO TRY IT ANYWAY#i had phase 1 downloaded after a while it's rly not that bad#breaking her sword takes ages but it's enjoyable as hell to perfectly deflect her every move (w exceptions)#phase 2... that's where i struggled shsjakdsfjhadjk#my only source of damage were her electric thingies that i needed to deflect at her#otherwise she is so UNHINGED and reading and dodging / parrying her attacks in p2 seemed impossible at first#but eventually i lowkey figured it out??? and managed to stay alive long enough for her to give me all her electric projectiles to kill her#AND IT STILL FEELS UNREALLLLLLLL#i hope atl some of u know what i'm talking about and how hard what i did actually is asjdhfghadkl#bc this is easily the most impressive fight / challenge of my gaming career sjahdsfjdaklgs#anyways that's all ksajdshfjdakl i love this game so much
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I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.
#today i fucked up by reactivating my fb account which i haven't done in 2 yrs just to check on some folks id been sending good thought to#place is depressing everyone is miserable and everything feels fake and my mind is like#LOL this is why we left bitch byeeee#so i deactivated again went to work and idc what anyone says there are folks like me that can and do feel the energy and emotions coming of#people and it can fucking suck especially when so many are disregulated so i got a sensory overload and boss was nice enough to let me take#a bunch of breaks today and even scream in her office cause She Gets It (TM)#the weather is rainy and cold i'm getting so many fibro flares idk how i'm moving anymore#ive missed so many days of work already and it's not even fully winter yet i still have my job and im thankful i have an understanding team#but that doesnt pay the bills im still trying to find a way to pay for that doctor appointment coming up#graduate courses began for college and i think i'm gonna be okay but damn did they throw too much info all at once at me and that made#my adhd brain go WELL SHIT#ive been feeling incredibly lonely and not wanted in so many spaces that im struggling to even communicate with the few that i know do#love me for me and nothing else im trying so so so hard to keep being there for people and to keep loving#people that need it cause i don't ever want another human being to ever feel as miserable and unwanted as i have felt#but im also tired because i feel like thats all anyone ever sees me as just this being that can take their woes away and make them feel#amazing and i love that i can do that and listen to so many traumatic stories and help folks process that trauma my boss and many throughou#life have told me i have a gift for healing people and a vibe to me thats different than most and it feels good being around me but today i#just felt like people keep taking and taking and taking and i dont expect anything back thats not who i am id rather give than receive#but damn it i just wish someone could just give me the biggest hug in the world dont even have to say a thing just hold me and be present#and hold space for me to just feel weightless id cherish that more than anything in the world right now#on a positive note...#my dinosaur vo stuff got traction im getting a new cosplay put together i havent done that in 4 years i got to pet a wild deer i made#a coworker laugh so hard his juice went out his nose and my boss peed a little#im slowly taming another wild flock of turkeys and i got a bag of my favorite takis the guacamole flavor#i got a lot to be thankful for and i acknowledge it#but damn it im tired#thank you for coming to my Ted Talk rant and rave#if you made it this far: you're an incredible human being and i love you#please go treat yo self to something nice and know i love you for you
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Once I'm done with this current fic I think I'm gonna have to take a break from writing about this storyline
#hopefully my brain will let me write the fluffier chapter i've been struggling to get through so i can give myself a break from all the sad#watching the eps is hard enough honestly#writing about it isn't making things any easier
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