gary smith narcissistic self harm hc yeah yeah we all agree but damn is that boy gayy gay gau gay like fag like limp wrist and u know what smopkins could rlly serve it to us the old fashioned way repressed and youthful
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Here’s sit with me while I tell you my favorite idea 💡
✨So the hunters (all if possible) come back to the manor after a long match of smelling sweat and blood upon walking towards their shred room with reader they catch a scent of their lovers perfume- mind going a mile a minute with the idea of their lover being in they arms and just melting from the stress of the day ✨
Thoughts 💭
ANON. anon...... this is the kind of scenario that makes me CRAZY uegh.. when their judgment's clouded by bloodlust but inhaling your scent brings them back to their senses >>> 🤒 let me be your lighthouse home etc etc. sign me UP.
for some blurbs, this turned into a broader "hunter comes straight to you after a rough match" without the perfume bit. kind of misunderstood the assignment but either way, here's this!
🌪️✂️👘🏳️🏴🦌🐍🪞🎻🔩🐟🕯️
🌪️ Ithaqua brings an air of gloom with him into your bedroom. Driven by nothing but a searing want for you, he skips over any pleasantries to tear off his mask and shove you onto the ground. A bed of wind tries to break your fall, but his impatience gets the better of him; he pins you to the floor with such force that he disrupts his own gale from cushioning your way down. Not that you care in the moment. You’ve been waiting to have him in your arms all day. He leaves a scattering of love bites and wet kisses up your neck.
✂️ Jack has one particular tune that he hums after his worst matches. Months of living together have left you all too familiar with it. His song begins from the foot of the staircase and steadily crisps itself to your ears as he draws nearer. Afraid of the state you might find him in, you rush outside to meet him at the top of the banister. He pauses with one foot on the next step. “Curious,” he says, greeting you with a cordial smile. “It’s not often a little mouse stands in my path—not on purpose.” His blouse is soaked a shade of reddish brown, and no amount of easy banter can hide the weariness in his eye. “Well, you’ve saved me the trouble. I was on my way to ravage you next.”
👘 Michiko drags her nails along the walls of the corridor, leaving a dull streak of blood behind. She doesn’t make a sound when she slips inside your room, practised in her delicate step; you don’t even feel the dip in the mattress before she has her shoulders arched over you. Eyeing you tenderly, she rolls a warm thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m home,” she murmurs. “Your sweet scent led the way again.” She realizes she left a smear of red on your skin, and her hand jerks away, startled by the reminder of what she had been doing just minutes ago.
🏳️ Bi’an’s arms wind around the small of your back, drawing you into his chest for a slow, tender embrace. It’s the first thing he does after returning to the manor: falling straight into your arms. As his lips trail down your forehead, peppering soft kisses in their path, you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer. A whisper escapes you about how out of the blue this is, and in response he brings a kiss to the corner of your eye, prompting them to flutter shut. “Let me have you, just for a little while…” Those sweet kisses he’s so good at descend your neck, growing rougher the lower he goes.
🏴 Wujiu’s arms wind around your stomach, pressing his chest flush against your back. He hasn’t uttered a word since returning from his match, aside from a tepid “Nothing worth mentioning” when asked about his day. This sudden affection takes you by surprise. You try to turn your head to face him but he catches your chin, steering your gaze back to the wall. “Don’t look at me.” Whatever is clouding his mind today is better left alone, you realize. You lay your hands on top of his, squeezing them, encouraging him to let your presence blot out everything on his mind. Warm breath fans your collarbone as he nuzzles into your neck, drinking in your scent.
🦌 Bane doesn’t like to discuss his matches. It makes no difference whether they are quick or slow, a win or a lose, they always weigh on him the same way. He sits on the edge of the bed lost in thought. You decide to break the tension first by greeting him with a hug from behind, your chin hooking over his shoulder. Bane isn’t big on physical affection. But after a while he cups a tender hand to your temple, palm taking up the entirety of your face, and presses you gently into him.
🐍 Yidhra might be the hunter most detached from the nightmares of the manor games. They provide nothing but leisure for her, and she’s never felt particularly passionate about them, win or lose. Her followers are the ones who give her the most trouble. When they resist her will, her consciousness splinters apart, some days leaving her too weak to herd them back again. These are typically the days she comes for you. You aren’t sure when she enters your room, but sometimes you catch glimpses of her tail in your peripheral, never to be seen when you’re looking on purpose. Her voice floats in the back of your mind: Mine, mine, mine, mine… There is nothing that binds you to her, yet you’re the only one who never resists her.
🪞 Mary barges into the room clumsily for someone of her poise. She struggles to prop herself against the door, muddy skirt stiff in awkward folds. “My mind is a mess,” she exclaims, voice clear but breathless at the same time. “Where are you? Come settle me.” The second she spots you, she sulks over to toss her arms around your neck, finding a seat in your lap. Clearly she isn’t concerned about observing her usual decorum today. Her dress is heavy and splotched with muck you don’t care to identify, but you don’t mind holding her as the burdens of the day ease off her shoulders.
🎻 Antonio’s fingers instinctively travel to the liquor cart by the window. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but feeling around to find nothing but an empty platter gives him pause. One resigned cluck of his tongue later, you feel tendrils of hair coil around your waist and wrists. They pluck you up from your side of the bed and present you in front of him as if you’re nothing more than a doll. “Not a drop to console me?” he complains, knowing you’ve hidden his bottles again. Then his head tilts slightly, taking in your scent. You can practically see detention’s fiery glow return to his eyes. “No, perhaps you are right—there is something more intoxicating for me here.”
🔩 Percy - “Hm...” He’s scrutinizing you with such intensity that you wonder if something’s on your face. He leans over to take an exaggerated whiff of you, and your heart sinks in offense. You have half a mind to tell him you showered just that morning, so it’s probably not you — besides, he’s the one who’s been tangoing with carcasses all day — but Percy keeps a thoughtful look about him. “You smell full of life,” he muses. “That fragrance you wear, it was popular back in the day. Transports me to the city again.” He would know better than you; you just found this perfume in the trunk of a dusty old room. When he comes closer, clasping either hand around your face, you let him lose himself in the nostalgia. Moments like these are all you have to keep yourselves sane in the manor.
🐟 Grace’s mouth is pulled into a taut frown when she flings open the door. You can see a slight quiver in her lip if you squint. Her harpoon clatters on the ground and she drops onto your bed, braid falling out, face buried in a pillow. There’s little you can do except rub a soothing hand in circles on her back. When she peeks over her arm with a gentle plea in her eyes, you wonder if she’s asking for a deeper massage—but you don’t get the chance to ask before her hand latches onto your forearm, tugging you down to lie with her.
🕯️ Philippe settles for a glass of brandy and his bundle of sketches. He’s resting on the chaise by the foot of the bed, not his work desk where he’d usually be. Rather than drafting new ideas he’s simply thumbing through the old ones, mechanically, breaking from his cycle only for a sip of his glass. It’s like your lover’s been replaced by a puppet. You feel unnerved enough to intervene: stripping him first of his glass, his sketches, then his monocle, you tip him back onto the cushion. You expect him to complain about having to get back to work, but he doesn’t protest. Tonight is for him, you decide. As his dark hair sprawls out beneath him, you straddle his thighs, and his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “I’m terribly jealous of this magic of yours,” he murmurs, faint lilt in his voice. “It’s always you who brings me back from the stars.”
hiya !! this is a bit of an odd request but is there any chance you'd be willing to write pickles x reader , where the reader has shied away from alcohol / substances all their life until they start embracing them after becoming close with pickles ? all good if not , thank you and have a great day !! o7
Oooh i kinda adore this trope ngl. keep coming with these bangers im so excited!
Only With You
Summary: Dethklok's newest babysitter has been observed to be quite the dildo. They never want to drink with them, smoke, or generally party with them in a significant way. Pickles opens his own investigation into them and starts to genuinely enjoy the time they spend alone. Maybe he'll lower their walls, and open them to some new mind-altering experiences.
Warning: obvious drug and alcohol use, as a general pot user I'm going to be as specific as possible. I'm going to make this as fluffy as possible but there might be some suggestive content. Reader has they/them pronouns
Word count: 2345
"What are you? Schome kind of fucking schquare?" Murderface quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nudged Nathan playfully.
"Yeah, come on, don't be a dildo," Nathan retorted, his deep voice rumbling with frustration as he batted Will away from him.
Their banter filled the cramped bar, the air heavy with the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a dim glow on the worn-out furniture and peeling wallpaper.
As the tension between Murderface and Nathan escalated, Toki attempted to intervene, his gentle voice drowned out by Skwisgaar's disdainful remarks about both of them being a "lady dildos." The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, their argument blending with the other patrons' raucous laughter and clinking glasses.
Feeling overwhelmed, y/n glanced around the bar, a headache forming from the noise. Just as they were about to suggest leaving, Pickles came to the rescue, a mischievous smirk on his lips.
"I know a quiet spot; let's dip while they're distracted," Pickles suggested, his voice low and inviting. The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and distant laughter, creating a hazy ambiance that enveloped them both.
Y/n hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing their features. "I don't know, Charles might kill me for leaving them by themselves," they replied, their voice tinged with uncertainty.
Pickles waved off their concern with a casual shrug. "He'll get over it as long as they don't drive. Then again, they wouldn't leave without me. So therefore, we can hang out in a cool alleyway while they drink themselves to the ground."
With a sigh, y/n bit their lip, their mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Despite their hesitation, the allure of escape beckoned, tempting them to leave the chaos of the bar behind.
After much internal debate, y/n finally nodded and walked with Pickles into the alley. It was nothing spectacular, but the relative quietness offered a welcome respite from the clamor of the bar. The cool wind brushed against their skin, causing goosebumps to rise on their arms.
"So uh...this is where you run off to when they get loud," y/n remarked, their breath forming wispy clouds in the frosty air. "Shoulda known to check the alley."
"Aww, you look for me?" Pickles teased, his voice laced with amusement as he pulled a joint from his pocket.
Y/n watched in awe as Pickles took a long drag, the smoke swirling around him like a halo. The air was thick with the scent of cannabis, earthy and pungent, mingling with the sharp bite of the night air.
"For as much as you brag about being rich, you think your lighter could use an upgrade?" y/n teased, their voice laced with amusement.
"Eh... this lighter and I have a history," Pickles chuckled softly, leaning against the cold brick wall. "I smoked my first ever blunt with this Zippo... would you believe I stole it from my dad?"
As Pickles continued to talk about other crazy stories, y/n found themselves drawn in by his easy charm and effortless charisma. They watched as his fingers traced over the worn metal, the flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the alley wall.
"Yeah...I believe it," y/n replied, their voice soft with admiration. "So you've been smoking a long time, huh?"
"For as long as I can remember, y'know, before I got into the other shit," Pickles admitted, nudging a crate beside him. "You've been standing a while; you should sit."
Their body moved instinctively, gravitating towards Pickles as they settled onto the crate beside him. With a sigh of relief, y/n felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of calmness in Pickles' presence.
The silence between them was almost palpable, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional clink of cans on the ground. Despite their attempts to enjoy the tranquility, y/n couldn't shake the nagging feeling of restlessness that gnawed at their mind.
"Wow..." they laughed awkwardly, their fingers fidgeting with their sleeves. "A whole five minutes without being asked to partake...must be a new record."
"No sense in pushing it; it's a waste of good pot," Pickles remarked casually, his demeanor relaxed and nonchalant. "Besides, the first high will be shit if you don't know what you're getting into."
Y/n nodded in agreement, their gaze drifting down to their hands. "You just make it look so easy..."
Pickles tilted his head, the crimson strands of his hair falling over his shoulder as he regarded y/n with a knowing smile. "Make what look easy?"
"Everything!" y/n blurted out, their words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "Just...everything you do is effortless. You make it look so easy to talk to people and operate under pressure like nothing affects you. I want to relax, and I want the rest of the band to like me...and I shouldn't be rambling right now, but it's like I can't stop myself because my brain just won't—"
"Shut up?" Pickles interrupted gently.
Y/n blushed brightly, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "S-sorry..."
"No...like your brain just won't shut up? I get it. Hell, why do you think I smoke this stuff?" Pickles reassured them, nudging them with his shoulder. "It's not easy being so laid back; it takes practice."
"Practice?" y/n echoed, their curiosity piqued.
Pickles nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Gotta practice not worrying what other people think. I'm fucking famous; who cares what nobody at the bar has to say? It's vain, I know, but it works. It's easy to be friends with people when you can shut off that little nag in the back of your head. You just have to stop assuming people are out to get you."
Y/n nodded in understanding, their thoughts swirling as they absorbed Pickles' words of wisdom. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the silence punctuated only by the soft sound of their laughter and the occasional drag of the joint. Despite the cold, y/n felt a warmth spreading through them, a sense of peace settling over their troubled mind.
As they sat side by side, y/n couldn't help but admire Pickles' easygoing demeanor and the way he seemed to effortlessly navigate through life's challenges. For a moment, they forgot about their worries and insecurities, lost in the simple pleasure of his company.
And as they took a hesitant puff of the joint, feeling the smoke fill their lungs and the tension melting away, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
Their eyes wandered over Pickles, taking in every detail with an almost reverent appreciation. Each freckle, every smile line, and the faint scars that adorned his skin told a story of a life well-lived, adding to his allure in the dimly lit alleyway. Despite the chill in the air, the warmth emanating from Pickles enveloped them, comforting and reassuring like a soft embrace.
As they sat there, a thought lingered in their mind: why was everything about him just so perfect? His casual demeanor, his effortless charm—it all seemed to come naturally to him, effortlessly captivating those around him.
Caught off guard by Pickles' quizzical expression, y/n felt a blush creep into their cheeks as they realized they had been caught staring. But Pickles' playful demeanor quickly put them at ease, his snicker breaking the tension that hung in the air.
"You see something you like?" he cheesed lightly, dramatically waggling his brows.
"No- I mean yes- I mean- shit.... uh-"
"Relax, I'm messing with you," Pickles chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "I gotta teach you how to flirt."
"Heh...um, actually, I was maybe wondering if I could try..." y/n trailed off, their gaze flickering towards the burning joint in Pickles' hand.
"Holy shit, you actually wanna smoke with me?" Pickles exclaimed, genuine surprise coloring his tone.
"Well...kinda. Maybe it won't be so overwhelming if it's with you..." y/n admitted, their nerves beginning to dissipate in Pickles' reassuring presence.
"I'll take care of ya, don't worry," Pickles reassured them, passing the dutchie with a gentle hand. "Don't try to show off, ok? Baby hits..."
After calming their shaking hands, y/n carefully placed the joint between their lips, their senses heightened as they inhaled deeply. The taste was harsh, earthy, and unfamiliar, causing their shoulders to tense with each choppy cough.
"Deep breath. You're gonna choke no matter what, you got virgin lungs. 'S normal," Pickles reassured them, his voice gentle and reassuring.
"It tastes like dirt..." y/n grimaced, their discomfort evident in their expression.
"Well, it's weed; it's gonna taste bad," Pickles shrugged, his easygoing demeanor soothing y/n's nerves. "Take one more, then pass it back."
With a nod of determination, y/n took another deep breath, the smoke swirling around them in ethereal patterns. Despite the initial discomfort, a sense of calm washed over them, easing the tension in their shoulders and allowing them to relax fully in Pickles' company.
Pickles extinguished the joint with a flick of his wrist, the ember sputtering out as he tucked the carton back into his pocket. Leaning back against the cool brick wall, he regarded Y/n with a curious expression.
"So, short stuff, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. "You're one to talk," they scoffed, a small smile playing at their lips. "I feel…slow, but in a good way. Like, I can finally think clearly, funnily enough."
"Yeah?" Pickles raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Yeah...is this how you feel constantly?" y/n returned the question, genuinely curious about Pickles' experience.
"More or less," Pickles snorted, kicking around some cans on the ground with a lazy gesture.
"I could get used to this," y/n mused, a sense of contentment settling over them like a warm blanket. "It feels…easier to talk as if a barrier was temporarily moved to the storage room of my brain. This is nice. Thanks, Pickles."
"Hey, any time," Pickles replied, a genuine smile gracing his features. "You remind me a lot about myself, actually."
Y/n tilted their head curiously, they scooted closer to Pickles, craving his warmth in the chilly night air.
"How so?" they asked, their voice soft and curious.
Pickles paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered his response. "I used to worry about how everyone perceived me," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I was always so…strung up, like the world was out to get me."
He chuckled softly, the sound rough and raspy in the stillness of the alley. "I know I'm nothing but a pampered, rich airhead," he admitted, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet y/n's eyes. "But I know this job keeping us out of trouble isn't exactly the easiest. If no one else is on your team, you can relax knowing that the world's best drummer is."
Y/n felt a flutter in their chest, their cheeks flushing as they met Pickles' gaze in the dim lighting. His words were simple, yet they held a profound depth of meaning that resonated with them.
"Pickles, I—" they started, their words catching in their throat as they struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions. They leaned away slightly, suddenly self-conscious about intruding on his personal space.
But before they could retreat too far, Pickles grinned cheesily, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Geez…you really are the coolest," they blurted out, a shy smile tugging at the corners of their lips.
Pickles' grin widened, his laughter echoing off the walls of the alley. "You think?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
The air between them crackled with anticipation as y/n struggled to find the right words, their gaze locked with Pickles' in an unspoken exchange of longing and desire. In that moment, everything else faded away—the noise of the city, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, suspended in time.
Pickles waited with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently urged y/n to speak their truth. He could see the turmoil in their eyes, the raw vulnerability laid bare, and he felt a surge of tenderness wash over him.
Finally, y/n took a deep breath, their voice trembling slightly as they found the courage to voice their feelings. "Everything about you has always been cool," they began, their words soft and hesitant. "I wish I could say I was jealous, but…I don't think that's it."
A flicker of understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken attraction that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. Pickles' heart soared with a newfound sense of hope, his gaze never wavering from y/n's as he silently encouraged them to continue.
"Oh?" he prompted, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation. He knew what they were about to say, could feel it in the way their gaze lingered on him, and he silently willed them to take the leap.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, their mind racing with a new uproar of butterflies. But then, with a surge of determination, they pushed aside their doubts and fears, allowing their heart to lead the way.
"How do I say this…" they trailed off, their voice barely above a whisper. "Other than I just don't want tonight to end…"
And in that moment, the weight of their confession hung heavy in the air, the tension between them palpable. But before either of them could say another word, Pickles closed the distance between them, his lips capturing Y/n's in a tender kiss.
Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, the world fading away until nothing was left but the warmth of their embrace. And as they pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, y/n felt a sense of peace settle over them, knowing they had finally found the courage to speak their truth.
"Me neither," Pickles whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and affection. "Let's make tonight last forever."
ok that took a really really long time. now time to go back into my writer whole. Leave more requests for me :DD
EDIT: HI so for some fucking reason in the translation from docs to tumblr, half of the fucking fic was just OMITTED. HOW DID I NOT NOTICE UGHHHHH im so sorry yall if the pacing felt weird. thats what i get for not proof reading before i post but i was SO EXCITED to have another bomb fic doneeeeee.
First post being about Pickles,,, who would've guessed!!
I think he's the most boyfriend material out of the whole band,,, not biased at all !
He's not traditionally romantic with dinner and flowers and the likes, but he has his own Pickles' charm. Picture lazy days in bed, watching trash T.V, your head on his chest, his arm around you, and his hand mindlessly running up and down your side. It's tender, it's intimate, and probably a third chick named Mary Jane involved.
He values quality time a lot. He doesn't care what the two of you do as long as it's together. Even though he's a billionaire I think he would enjoy doing the most mundane things. In fact, I'd go as far to say out of all the band members, he has an appreciation for the little things the most. I think walking around an empty park late at night with an arm wrapped around you, doing nothing but talking and feeding the swans, is his idea heaven.
He also feeds on energy, so please match his. He may be the most emotionally mature in the band, but he's still just as much of a jack-ass.
An actual dumbass during the crush stage, somebody please stop him before he hurts himself. He's showing off his drum skills, his alcohol tolerance, literally anything and everything to be seen as cool in your eyes. He'll snap out of it eventually and it's something that embarrasses him when he looks back on it; definitely being teased by the other guys about it.
He's going to want to introduce you to his family. It will be deep in the relationship when he knows he's serious about you, not right off the bat or anything. He still desires approval from his mother and a small part of him still hopes to fix the damage in their relationship, do even though it's probably a super bad idea he's taking you up to Tomahawk. It's a disaster, obviously. He'll be nervous the whole time, and the hope in his eyes will be enough to put you in cardiac arrest if you look too long. Molly will either hate you or try setting you up with Seth, no in between. Pickles will be at your defense during either scenarios. You're both going to leave emotionally exhausted but Pickles will be a wreck especially. Please comfort him and reassure him. Make sure he realizes that nothing about his shirty family will affect the two of you.
Other than quality time I think his strongest love language is words of affirmation. It can be as little as a special pet name that's exclusively for him to high praise. Any words of genuine affection make his insides feel twisted up, in a good way.
I think he would like his partner to be a little possessive. Not anything crazy but like if they suddenly tugged him closer when around others, or put their hand on his waist while at an event, he will be swooning in no time. He likes feeling wanted.
He is the best at comforting. He doesn't even have to try, really. His general presence just instantly puts a person at ease. If you were ever upset though he would stop whatever he was doing and get you somewhere quiet if you weren't already. If you don't want to be touched, he'll respect that, and just be there with you until you're ready or want to talk. If you don't mind, he'll pull you in his lap and just hold you close. He won't say much or make you talk, but he does want to be there, just to make sure you're okay with his own two eyes.
He will mindlessly bring you up in conversation. Doesn't even mean to you're just always on his mind subconsciously. He's a smitten partner, truly.
Overall, Pickles is just a genuine guy who has a few emotional hang-ups involving self-worth, but he's working on it, with you.
I went insane over this ship and I needed to write a wip for a fanfic that I'll possibly post on ao3, mostly depends if people actually like my writing or are interested in my take on this ship since this is a au I made up
TW:
Suicide
Josh Levy was dead.
Josh Levy was dead and Bill Dickey was at his funeral.
Bill didn't want to believe it at first, wanted to believe that Josh had just quit posting fanfics because of him. That Josh had seen how stupid it was to post anything like fanfics in fandom spaces but when his mother screamed down at the basement that he had gotten mail, a rare thing for him, it worried him since he thought it might be one of his old clients that he had stolen from their collection while 'cleaning' them. But as he was looking at the sender address he didn't recognize other than the last name, 'Levy' he was a bit surprised since he could've sworn that Josh wouldn't have known Greedo318 was him. Bill opened the letter, expecting the letter to be full of anger and whines but his blood ran cold as he read that it was from Josh's father.
The letter detailed that Josh had killed himself a few days ago and that since Bill was Josh's childhood friend, Josh's father hoped that Bill could come to the funeral since even though they had parted on bad terms they were still friends at one point.Bill sat in the back corner of the funeral house as Josh's family are in prayer, Bill felt so out of place as he stared down at the ground. He was wearing a black shirt with black pants and an old dark blue jacket since it was all he can afford and his mother wouldn't give him anymore money. He saw that Josh's family was in the appropriate attire, black suits, and black dresses. Bill felt like he wanted to throw up every time he looked up to see the closed wooden casket that held Josh's body. He wanted to try and make a joke to himself about how his family probably struggled to find a casket big enough for him but for once in his life he felt shame for trying to take a jab a Josh.Bill mostly spaced out until the family started their speeches about Josh's life and how they remembered him, most of the stories were of when Josh was younger, 'more happier' as his family put it but some of the family tired to share stories of how they tried to understand Josh's interests and it almost made Bill laugh about how little they actually knew about him.
After they were done everyone then walked out of the funeral home to wait for the casket to be moved. Bill stood far from everyone else, not knowing what to do as he waited. Bill had his hands in his jacket pockets since he didn't know what to do with his hands, one hand was curled up in a fist while the other held an old Boba Fett head, Bill didn't know why he even kept it after all this time, seven years, seven years of having this head in his pocket, sometimes Bill wonders why he even cared so much. Josh had the body, almost the entire figure except for the head, Bill could've easily just given it to him but a strange part of himself was so reluctant to even think about letting Josh have this one thing.
ok now that ive done the ring its time to actually get cracking on the marriage part. very long, please be warned, I think too hard abt this stuff aughhhh
-they refused to consider themselves "together" for a long long long long time. even after Bill moved into Josh's house. Even as Josh's mom started inviting Bill to family gatherings as Josh's "very special friend". Even as Bill's mom started to cry to her brunch friends abt how she has a gay son "with an ugly ass boyfriend."
-finally finally they started to consider themselves as "significant others" after someone called them the f slur in public for holding hands. Bill beat the shit out of them and slammed their face into the counter at whatever comic shop they were loitering at while Josh tried to wrestle him off. and even then the term "boyfriends" didn't really cross their minds until they were sleeping in the same bed together.
-Bill whined about how he "has no girlfriend" for months after they officially moved in together, and then when he finally accepted he was bisexual he switched to whining about how his "boyfriend is a tub of lard shaped like a pear" (and then Josh says "oh please you love taking bites out of this pear", and then they get into an argument and fuck nasty on the couch while the dark knight trilogy blares but I digress)
-Josh is more comfortable with the idea of being "together" with another man, mostly because it put a lot of things into perspective for him. but he also still whines about "why couldn't I have pulled a sexy elf chick, why did it have to be Bill?" (and then Bill says "oh come on, you could barely function without me you jiggling mound of jello" and then the dark knight argument happens again)
-when gay marriage was legalized nationwide Josh's mom started to nudge them to get properly married (I headcanon her as being accepting in a weird awkward "overbearing conservative mother trying to adapt" way, step off me) since she wanted to see Josh married before she died. "even if it's to...... another....man." but both of them refused to even accept that as a possibility.
-It wasn't until Bill realized that it would give him some tax breaks to get married and Josh realized that if he's married he's entitled to 50 percent of Bill's collection that they finally began to think about it more. (and also after Josh's mother had a series of really horrific health scares that both pushed them to consider her "nudges" were....closer to the mark.)
-Bill proposed with the head of Boba Fett embedded into a ring. Josh can never get it off and pop it back on the body. they argue about it constantly but its Bill's way of showing his appreciation/love. And Josh gets it, even if he can't ever let it go. Later Bill gets a "proper" diamond ring with money he wanted to use for a Darth Vader figurine. Later Bill gets a "proper" diamond ring with money he wanted to use for a Darth Vader figurine. He's really cranky about it outwardly but inwardly seeing it on Josh's finger makes him very very happy.
-They rock paper scissored for who would be the "bride" (IE walk down the aisle) and who would be the "groom" (stand at the altar). After "best 21 out of 30" Josh's mom stepped in and declared "well all of the family wants to see Josh looking handsome at the altar!" and Bill sulked for a solid week.
-Jerry and Pete are invited to the wedding (I imagine it happens pre epilogue timeline shhhhhh lemme be delusional) and it's the first correspondence they've had in years. Jerry immediately flipped the fuck out and rushed over to Facebook to check that, yeah, all those couples pictures from Josh he's been ignoring for years ARE IN FACT JOSH LEVY AND BILL DICKEY DOING COUPLY THINGS. THEY'RE GOING TO THE BEACH. THEY'RE FIGHTING ABOUT WHO GETS TO LICK THE ICE CREAM CONE FIRST. JOSH IS TOUCHING-- JOSH IS TOUCHING BILL'S MOLJINR HAMMER AND ISN'T GETTING KILLED FOR IT. AND ITS NOT A EUPHEMISM HE IS HELPING BILL MOVE BOXES OF HIS COLLECTION INTO HIS MOM'S HOUSE AND NOT GETTING HIS ASS RIPPED APART. Pete calls him out of shock. They both have a long conversation about what the fuck how the fuck where the fuck how the fuck???
-The ceremony was very small and held in Josh's temple. Josh's mom wanted a bigger party and to invite the whole family etc etc but Bill threatened to just drive to Vegas and do it there "if this is gonna be a fucking dog and pony show". Josh is grateful to him for it.
-Bill's Mom skips the wedding but Jane reluctantly shows up. Just because some part of her thinks this is some elaborate joke, since, no, her brother is not getting gay married. he can't get gay married. not after that, what he was like as a kid. Only to immediately get grilled by her brother because "WHAT THE FUCK WHY DIDNT YOU RETURN MY CALLS YOU'RE THE RING BEARER TAKE THIS GODDAMN PILLOW AND GET OUT THERE!"
-Jerry and Pete attend out of curiosity/obligation/desire to reconnect (in Jerry's case at least). It's still really awkward, because well....TFTM and also.....fuck they really just cannot believe Bill and Josh are fucking together. It seems unreal. Like a mongoose and a snake kissing. Or Leia and Luke actually getting together. It seems impossible.
-and they are, like, blatantly Together. Bill snipes at Josh about letting his hair frizz up before the wedding, Josh snaps at Bill about how crooked his glasses are but at the same time Bill brushes back the curly bits into a proper ponytail and Josh adjusts Bill's glasses so they're straight. And they let each other do that. They're always hovering around each other, watching, making sure. They make weird inside jokes that neither Jerry and Pete understand and laugh at them before blaming each other for whose fault it was. They're the same, but....softer somehow. It's not as mean as it was when they were younger. There's more tenderness there, more built up vulnerability. As Pete says "Jesus it's like they're an old married couple already."
-the actual ceremony was done in record time. everyone sat down, Jane threw some flowers around (she's also the flower girl because Bill and Josh are both cheapskates for anything that's not comic related and no other girls wanted to sign up), Bill walked alone down the aisle to an edited version of the Batman: The Animated Series theme, they listened to the rabbi give an awkward "edited for gay people" version of the wedding spiel, said their "I dos", and then went to the Star Wars themed reception. Boom. Done. They are married now. Bill immediately starts making jokes about his "bitch wife" and Josh starts whining about his "deadbeat husband".
-They fought a long long long long long time about who was changing their name. Josh didn't want to be "Joshua Dickey" and Bill didn't want to be "William Levy". Hyphenating their names sounded too much like pussy shit, since "Dickey-Levy" or "Levy-Dickey" is weird and too redundant and sounds like a sex joke and "how are they gonna fit it on my publications?" (Josh says before Bill says "like you're going to get any publications you hutt" and then the cycle repeats with the Man of Steel playing this time)
-They remained undecided up until the actual wedding, when it was time to sign the marriage certificate. And everyone was super sure they'd just call it off then because neither of them were backing down. But....Bill just looks over at the empty space where his mom and dad should have sat, groans, says "fuck it, never say I never do anything for you, fatass", and signs it "William Alan Levy".
-It's the one concession Bill ever makes in his life.
-(not including this with the rest because its me being very very delusional and blatantly projecting onto Bill but i like to imagine Bill converts to Judaism after marrying Josh officially. Josh's family I picture are Conservative with some Orthodox values so it's sort of an uphill battle? And he's super pissed and annoyed and outwardly bitchy abt the whole thing because. Well. He's Bill. But he does sort of want to share in Josh's culture and life. It's important to Josh, so-- it's important to him. they're not super observant but they do celebrate Passover/Hanukah together and sometimes go to temple.)
Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight)
Pairing: Edward Nigma x F!Original Character
Rating: +18 Explicit
Tags: Edward POV, slow burn, enemies to lovers
General warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, sexuality, gross stuff
Chapters: 3/?
✦ Read on AO3
After the collapse of Arkham City, Gotham becomes eerily silent. A quiet that, to those who know how to listen, carries the taste of a bad omen.
Deep beneath the surface, Edward Nigma crafts his vengeance against the Bat with an ill obsession. But as his empire grows, he finds himself bracing for the coming storm, while facing his own fractured mind.
And things might have remained under his control, had it not been for a wretched little thief who brings him nothing but disruption, and forces him to solve the puzzle of his own humanity.
the riddler finding his childhood best friend (and love) after they were forced to be apart( she was adopted by these awful people and never trusted another person ever again) and when they find each other it's just heart eyes and undying love!!!!
Soulmates
A/n: sooo this has taken a while to write, but it's pretty huge by my standards so I hope you enjoy 💚
Wordcount: 5k~ish
Warnings: descriptions of childhood abuse, Eddie may be slightly ooc but I did my best 😭 should be GN!reader, let me know if there are any bits that you think should be changed to be more inclusive 💚
Today had been a rough day, long and unrelenting. The type of day where by the end, all you wanted was to go home to be alone and drown your sorrows in a large glass of wine. But first, you were forced to endure the subway journey across the city during rush hour, which was definitely not your idea of fun.
With every sway and rattle of the car, the crowd of passengers surrounding you was jostled, causing elbows to jab into your back and feet to step on yours. You kept a tight grip on your handbag in case anyone tried to snatch it from your shoulder, as was typical in Gotham, and stared at the small patch of grimy floor visible between your shoes to avoid being dragged into exhausting small-talk with another passenger. All you wanted was to get home as quickly and painlessly as possible.
When the train pulled into a station, some passengers began pushing through the crowd towards the doors, thankfully leaving a little extra room in their wake. Just as the train was slowly beginning to slide out of the station, a woman further up the car shifted to one side momentarily, and behind her was a face that you had all but forgotten, a ghost from your childhood. The sight took the breath out of your lungs, and you stared at him, slack-jawed.
Though it had been some years since you had seen him, you would recognise Edward’s face anywhere. That sloping nose, those round cheeks, that chin dimple, and those green eyes hidden behind thick glasses that you had always loved. It was as though the past 15 years had never happened, as though you were still the same teenager that had left the orphanage, and he was still the same Edward that you had left behind. The guilt you felt kept your gaze glued to his unaware face, you though that if you looked away he would disappear or it would turn out to be a hopeful mirage conjured by your tired brain.
You blinked, and when your eyes opened, he was still there, and you realised that your Edward was sitting just feet away from you. It was really him, he was right there, yet you were frozen in place, too shocked to move, to go up to him, to talk to him.
Then, Edward must have felt your eyes on him, as his head swivelled towards you. You didn’t look away in time, and when his green eyes met yours you saw the look of recognition cross his features, and watched it meld into a look of utter shock that you were sure mirrored yours.
————————————————————
It was a cold day in Gotham; the beginnings of winter had infiltrated the city, lending every breeze an icy chill that had permeated Gotham Orphanage with ease, assisted by the cracked windows and empty hallways that never seemed to hold any warmth.
The floor of the bedroom you shared with a dozen other children was cold and uncomfortable, yet there you sat, your body crammed into the small space between a wardrobe and the wall. Your grazed knees were pulled tight to your chest, and the sound of your heart-wrenching sobs filled the room.
This was often where you found yourself after receiving a punishment from the nuns, and today was no exception. The backs of your thighs ached and stung with the wounds inflicted with a wooden ruler, a sensation that you remembered in adulthood despite forgetting why you had received the punishments in the first place.
Your childish mind felt fit to burst with angsty thoughts of disappearing, escaping the orphanage and running away to live somewhere no one could hurt you.
Somewhere across the room, then, you heard shuffling, and your head shot up to glare at whoever it was.
Standing in the doorway, was a small boy, small and fragile-looking, with floppy, sandy blond hair and thick glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He was staring at you with terrified, wide eyes, and clutching a battered paperback book to his chest. You recognised him from around the orphanage, you knew that his name was Edward and that some of the meaner kids called him ‘Ed-weird’, which you thought was not only rude, but also uninventive.
“What do you want?” You snapped, with a small sniffle. Your voice was nasally and thick with tears, and the boy hesitated in the doorway, glancing down the hall, before stepping into the room slowly.
“Leave me alone.” You said in an attempt to sound angrier than you truly felt. Edward didn’t respond again, but continued to advance into the room, weaving between the many beds to reach where you were curled up on the floor.
“I said, leave me alone!” You said again, slightly louder this time, but your voice wavered at the end, and you felt your restraint crumbling as hot tears prickled at the corners of your eyes.
“I heard what happened.” The boy mumbled when he finally stood in front of you, his eyes not quite meeting yours but instead staring at his own feet. Stubbornly, you raised your chin and glared at him harshly.
“Nothing happened.” You retorted, though you knew it was pointless to deny it. Everyone knew when someone was being punished for something, the gossip spread like wildfire among the kids here.
Edward paused then, before slowly lowering himself to the ground until he sat crosslegged in front of you. The only sounds in the room were your quiet sniffles and the distant chatter of other children.
“It belongs to you, but others use it more. What is it?” Edward said, his voice quiet, barely above a murmur. Your brow furrowed in confusion and vague annoyance.
“What?” You asked, but before Edward could repeat himself, you realised what he had asked you. “Oh, a riddle?”
Edward nodded slightly, looking at you over the frames of his glasses which had slipped down his nose. You pondered the puzzle for a moment, before it came to you.
“Your name?” You asked, and Edward’s face split into a giddy grin, and he nodded again. You thought the way his hair flopped against his forehead with the movement was so endearing, you’d perhaps even find it cute if you didn’t still think boys were icky. He looked at you expectantly still, and you realised what he’s waiting for. “Oh, I’m [Y/N].”
Edward’s lips formed your name in a silent whisper, and he looked at you with less trepidation.
“I’m Edward.” He said quietly, and you nodded.
“I know.” You replied, and when Edward looked surprised, you explained, “I’ve seen you around before. Heard what some of the other kids say to you, they can be really mean.”
With that, his expression shifted to one of embarrassment, and he averted his gaze as a blush steadily crept up his neck. He didn’t respond, and you hoped that he knew you hadn’t been trying to upset him, you were just trying to sympathise with him.
“I hate it here.” You spat out suddenly, causing Edward to stare at you once more in shock. “Everyone’s so awful, the sisters and the kids. One day, I’m gonna get out, and run away somewhere. Somewhere I can do whatever I want, and no one can make me sad anymore.”
Edward watched you speak, captivated, and you suddenly found yourself grateful for his presence and willingness to listen to you rant, despite your earlier annoyance.
“And you can come too,” You added, and you giggled at Edward’s stunned reaction. “If you want to, that is.”
“Really?” He croaked, and you felt a surge of protectiveness for this boy you barely knew. Anytime you saw him around, he was either alone or getting viciously bullied. You had never seen him with friends; you supposed he was as lonely as you were in the orphanage.
“If you don’t keep me, I’ll break. What am I?” Edward’s eyes lit up at your question, and he answered quickly, as though he had already heard that particular riddle.
“A promise.” He breathed, his forest green eyes wide and fixed on your face.
“I promise, one day I’ll get out of here and I’ll let you come with me. We’ll move into a house somewhere outside the city, somewhere quiet.” You continued, and Edward nodded along, allowing himself to be drawn into your fantasy.
Then, a gust of icy air entered the room, and you both shivered involuntarily. Almost subconsciously, you shuffled over until you were pressed against the wall, and patted the small space beside you, gesturing for Edward to squeeze in. Hesitantly, he obeyed, shifting in the narrow gap until he was comfortable, and you basked in the warmth of your new friend.
————————————————————
Staring across the car into those painfully familiar green eyes, you were frozen in place, unsure of how to react. Edward seemed to be in the same position, unable to move from shock. Even if you were able to move, you had no idea what you would even say to your childhood best friend after so many years apart. And, more importantly, you had no idea if he would even want to speak to you again. He had been so angry that day you left, and you had broken so many of your promises to him, you half-expected him to have hated you for all these years. Yet still there was a part of you that was jumping with joy, too ecstatic to see Edward to allow that to stop you from at least trying to speak to him.
Mindlessly your feet had begun to carry you across the train until you stood directly in front of Edward. Suddenly, standing so close to him with his panicked stare fixed on you, your mouth ran dry and heart thudded quickly against your ribs.
“Eddie?” You managed to croak out finally.
“Y/N.” Edward breathed, and your heart leapt at the sound of his voice. Silence hung heavily in the air between you as you both searched for words to bridge the gap that had grown over years apart.
“You’re…still in Gotham?” You asked tentatively, remembering the little boy that wanted nothing more than to leave the city behind.
Edward nodded, his wild eyes never leaving your face or even blinking, as though you might disappear again if he looked away.
Another slightly awkward silence settled, before Edward spoke, the words tumbling from his lips uncontrollably.
“I saw you on the news, with them. You looked happy.”
A furrow appeared in your brow and you looked down to your feet. Of course, Edward believed that you had had a perfect life since leaving the orphanage, the whole city did. The family that had adopted you were public figures in Gotham, and had an image to uphold; together, you were the perfect family, happy faces and expensive clothes. But no one knew what that manor had truly been like, when the photo opportunity was over and the journalists had left.
“I haven’t lived with them for a while now.” You chose your response carefully, unwilling to say much more in a crowded train carriage.
Edward only nodded again with that familiar curious look on his face, the one he got when he found a particularly difficult puzzle.
“I did try to write to you.” You blurted out suddenly, feeling your cheeks warm at the abrupt confession. “I tried, but…things were difficult. I’m sorry.”
It was a rather pathetic attempt to make up for the years of last contact that were entirely your fault, but you felt that Edward deserved an explanation, no matter how vague it was.
“I tried to visit, once I left the orphanage, but they wouldn’t let me.” Edward explained, and you felt a twist of anger in your stomach. “I kept calling and visiting, but they told me you were busy. I thought y-you…I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
Edward looked away from you, and your heart broke. Those people had never told you that Edward had visited, in fact, they had taunted you about the fact that he hadn’t visited. That familiar feeling of rage simmered deep inside as you thought about a teenaged Edward, desperately trying to find you and being turned away every time.
“Eddie,” You said quietly, and he looked back at you immediately. “I did want to see you. I didn’t know you visited, they were…I’m sorry.”
For a long moment Edward searched your face for deception, and you wished you could allow him access to your every thought, let him rifle through the memories himself to find the truth. That would certainly be easier than having to tell him yourself. Then, he nodded, choosing to accept your words, and you let out a breath of relief.
The train shuddered as it pulled into the next station. When the voice on the tannoy announced it as your stop, your heart sank. You didn’t care about going home anymore, not when Edward was sitting here on this train. The doors to the platform slid open, and as other passengers started to file out, Edward rose to his feet nervously.
“T-this is, uh, my stop.” He explained, a rosy tint to his cheeks and apologetic look in his eyes. Slowly, a grin spread across your face.
“Mine too. Walk with me?” You suggested. Edward’s eyes widened and he nodded frantically.
As you left the carriage together, you couldn’t help but feel like those years apart had never truly happened.
————————————————————
Once again, you were sitting on the cold floor of your bedroom in Gotham Orphanage. Across the room, on your old metal-framed bed, was a battered old suitcase containing all of your possessions, locked and ready to leave. But you weren’t ready to leave, because the suitcase of belongings wasn’t what you wanted to take with you.
You were sitting in the small space between the wardrobe and wall again, where you had become friends with Edward several years before. This small spot in the bedroom had become a safe place for you both over the years; whenever something was wrong, whether Edward had been attacked by the bullies that couldn’t seem to let him be, or you had been punished by the nuns for what they considered heinous deeds, you both knew you could always find the other in your spot.
Sure enough, as you hugged your knees and stared despondently at a small piece of lint caught on an old floorboard, you heard familiar footsteps echoing down the hallway. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward round the corner and freeze in the doorway.
“What are you still doing here?” He asked, his voice low and cold.
Glancing at him, you saw his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. He had barely spoken to you all day, even at breakfast he had eaten in silence and left before you were finished without a word.
“Just finished packing.” You lied. Edward glanced up at the suitcase lying on your bed, then at you, before humming in acknowledgement of your response.
“Well, they’re downstairs now. You’d better go.” He said, and turned to leave, but before he could walk away you had risen to your feet.
“Wait, Eddie!” You called as he froze in the doorway. His body was turned away from you and his head hung low, with his fists clenched into tight, shaking balls by his sides.
“What?” He mumbled, still refusing to look at you. With a huff, you grabbed his shoulders and forcibly spun him round, forcing him to face you.
When his eyes met yours, you noticed the redness around them, and your hands dropped from his shoulders to hang limply by your side. You realised that you had no idea what to say to him. You knew as well as he did that this could be the last time you would ever see each other, and that reality was suddenly too much to handle.
“I don’t want to go.” You whispered, your voice cracking and tears pooling in your eyes. Edward swallowed thickly and one of his hands clasped yours gently, his slender fingers threading between yours as his thumb rubbed over your knuckles. “Not without you.”
You remembered your very first conversation with Edward, where you had promised him that he could come with you when you escaped, but that wasn’t the only reason that leaving him hurt so much; as your friendship with him had grown over the years, so too had your affection for the small, timid, bespectacled boy. The proud smile he gave when you solved one of his many riddles made your head spin, the sound of his voice soothed you and you found yourself hanging on his every word, so fascinated with his vast knowledge and impossibly quick brain.
Unfortunately, it was only after you had been informed that you were being adopted that you came to the realisation, alone in your bed one night and unable to sleep, that you were in love with your best friend. Then, you reasoned it was too late to tell him - the last thing you wanted to do was drop that bombshell on him then disappear from his life. So you had kept it to yourself ever since.
When tears began to spill from your eyes, Edward’s head dropped low again and he let out a shaky breath.
“I know.” He said, his voice strained with the effort it took to remain calm. “I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll be out of here in a year, and I’ll find you.”
You nodded, of course you knew that Eddie would do everything he could to find you, but silent tears were still streaming down your face. The thought of a year without him was unbearable, he had always been there to talk to, to calm you after nightmares and dry your tears after yet another beating, you just couldn’t imagine doing those things with the family that had chosen you. Furthermore, you had looked after Eddie in all the same ways, along with sticking up for him against the other bullheaded teenagers in this place when he refused to do it himself, but now you were leaving him on his own and even the knowledge that it was only for a year didn’t ease your worries much; you knew from experience that the years in Gotham Orphanage only seemed to get more and more difficult.
“You should be happy, you know.” Edward reminded you in that obnoxious know-it-all tone he used sometimes, though you could hear his voice wavering slightly with unshed tears. “You’re getting out, that’s what you always wanted.”
You choked out something between a sob and a laugh, and Edward’s grip on your hand tightened soothingly.
“Not anymore, not like this.” You manage to croak out before what little restraint you had snapped, and you started to cry proper, collapsing against Edward’s thin frame as your body shook with the force of your sobs. “I f-feel…so, s-selfish!” You hiccuped against his chest as slender arms tentatively wrapped around you, holding you against his chest as he buried his face into your hair, shushing you softly.
For a while you stayed like that, wrapped in each others arms and gently crying. Even when the tears stopped falling, neither of you moved to break the embrace, preferring to bask in this last moment a while longer. When you did pull away at last, Edward fixed you with an intensely serious look that froze you in place.
“Promise me that you’ll write?” He demanded, his hands gripping yours tight. Stunned, you nodded.
“Of course, I will.” You said, and his gaze softened. “I’ll write every week, I promise.”
Edward nodded, satisfied, and his hands dropped from yours as he took a step back from you.
“Well, you’d better go before they start to think you’re hiding in one of the wardrobes again, like you used to.” He joked, and you laughed.
“I only stopped because I couldn’t fit in there anymore.” You responded truthfully, and Edward breathed out a light chuckle.
With a sigh, you reluctantly picked up your suitcase, and left the bedroom without a second glance, leaving Edward lingering in the doorway and watching you walk away. You made your way down the hallway, drying your face on the sleeve of your jumper as you went, until Edward called out, causing you to halt.
“Wait, wait! Before you go,” He started, striding towards you purposefully. When your eyes met his, you found in them the same look you often gave him, a wistful stare that made your heart falter. “I, uh, I just want to say…”
His voice trailed off as you stared back at him, your heart pounding in anticipation of his next words, for you were so sure that they would be confirmation that he felt the same way you did. But then, Edward seemed to wilt slightly, his shoulders slumped and his hands fidgeted in front of him.
“Don’t forget to encrypt your letters.” He said flatly, and you felt as though he had punched you square in the chest. “Do you remember our cypher?”
“Yes.” You choked out through the lump that had formed in your throat. Without waiting for his response, you turned back and continued down the cold hallway.
You were so certain he felt the same. You felt so stupid, realising that you should have told him how you felt the moment you had figured it out, you should have woken him up and told him right then so that you never had to miss out on a single moment with him.
Maybe you’ll put that in your first letter.
————————————————————
“So, what do you do now?” You asked, wrapping your hands around the steaming mug of coffee before bringing it to your lips for a sip.
The coffee shop you and Edward had stopped in was just a few blocks from your apartment, and it was a place that you visited frequently. The coffee was good, the seats were comfortable, and the low ambient noise made it the ideal place to read or people-watch. Now, with Edward’s presence, it felt even more homey.
“I work at KTMJ, as a forensic accountant.” Edward said, pouring sachets of sugar into his coffee two at a time. You smiled softly; you had forgotten about Edward’s sweet tooth.
“Wait, you’re telling me you solve puzzles and catch bad guys for work?” You asked incredulously. “That’s, like, the ideal job for you.”
Edward huffed a small breath of annoyance at that.
“I don’t catch many bad guys.” He said with a hint of bitterness. “Not the real bad guys, at least. The little guys I investigate don’t matter, but the big names are protected. They can be as evil, as corrupt, as they want to be, and no one can stop them.”
You nodded thoughtfully, watching him stir his coffee with a small wooden stirrer.
“I get it. Every bad person needs a good person to protect them. It makes you wonder who the real bad guys are.” You offered wisely, taking another sip of coffee. Edward tilted his head curiously.
“What about you, what do you do for work?” He asked, and took a sip of his own.
“Oh, I’m a teacher at Gotham Kindergarten,” You say, leaning back in our chair with a soft smile on your lips. “And let me tell you, the kids I teach are as evil and corrupt as they get. Today, Jason punched Anthony because Maya stole his pen.”
Edward let out a loud giggle at that, and immediately his cheeks took on a rosy tint. You hid your grin behind the coffee cup.
“Poor Anthony.” Edward shook his head as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Don’t let him off too easy, he punched Maya for it. Then I had to try and explain to Maya that I couldn’t let her punch Jason just to ‘even it out’. Like I said, they’re evil.” You laughed along with Edward as you finished your story, feeling more alive than you had since they day you were adopted. Pure happiness was rushing through your veins and you felt lightheaded every time Edward smiled at you.
“Maya sounds smart.” He said, raising his eyebrows.
“She is,” you agreed, “She’s too smart for her own good. And her attitude gets her into trouble all the time.”
“Now she sounds like you.” Edward laughed, and you shot him a faux-offended look, before giving in and laughing with him.
It took a moment for your giggles to subside, and when they did an only slightly uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Edward stared at his hands, clasped in his lap, as he seemed to turn his next words over in his mind carefully.
“So, what…happened?” He asked eventually, and you tilted your head in question even though you knew exactly what he was referring to. “When you left…why didn’t you write? You said ‘things were difficult’, what does that mean?”
You took a slow sip of coffee as you considered the question that you knew you would have to answer, trying to decide where to begin.
“Well, you know the couple that adopted me? The husband was a big politician for a while, but his wife was the one pulling the strings really. She had the contacts and went to the meetings but he was the face of things, you know?” You explained, and Edward watched you carefully as you spoke, hanging onto every word. “Well, anyway, she was a real power hungry psycho, and she was obsessed with her image, she was a real white picket fence type, you know, pearls and politics. But she couldn’t have kids, so she couldn’t have that picture perfect life she wanted. That’s why they decided to adopt, and as an added plus, it looked really good for their reputation to take in one of the ‘less fortunate’ from the orphanage.”
Edward scoffed, but said nothing.
“So, they took me in and gave me a home and fancy clothes and expensive tutors and maids and all the rest, but they were so focussed on me being the final piece in their family puzzle that they forgot I was a…person? I felt like just an accessory for them to bring to photo opportunities.” You explained. “And one time…I guess my attitude got me in trouble.” You said with a sad chuckle.
Edward visibly bristled as you stopped speaking. His gaze was intense, and you found yourself unable to meet it, staring instead at the foamy remains floating atop your coffee.
“What did they do?” His question came quiet and low, and you dared to look up at his hands, clenched upon the table.
“She…hit me. I learned not to speak up quickly, but then she would decide that something else I did was wrong, and she’d hit me again. Never in the face, didn’t want to ruin the photos I guess.” You said with a bitter chuckle. “And her husband, well, he never hit me himself, but he would just ignore everything that happened. Out in public, he was the perfect father, but inside that house he generally pretended I didn’t exist. He was a coward, and chose to run away when his wife caused problems.”
You glanced up at Edward’s face to gauge his reaction: what you found was mainly concern, though there was a hardness in those green eyes that you had never seen before.
“As for me trying to write, I had written letters for months, addressed them to you, even put stamps on, and I gave them to the maids to be posted. I never got a reply, so in the end I gave up and stopped writing the letters.” You explained with an apologetic shrug. “Then, one day, when I was 18, she had taken away my car keys and I went looking for them, and I found those letters in a drawer in their office. I was so angry, I figured she had confiscated them from the maids every time I gave them one, but she just let me believe they had been sent. I left that night, found my car keys and ran as fast as I could. I tried to find you for so long but I never could, no matter where I looked.”
Edward looked away guiltily at that, clearly aware that his total lack of presence online made him difficult to find.
“I’m sorry,” You conclude, feeling somewhat deflated after explaining your whole ordeal. “I’m sorry I left in the first place.”
Edward shook his head furiously.
“None of this is your fault. They were supposed to protect you.” He consoled.
You nodded, trying to surreptitiously dab away the tears pooling in your eyes.
“I’m glad I bumped into you today.” You confessed with a smile. “I really needed you today.”
Edward reached across the table to grasp your hands in his and fixed you with an intense stare that you couldn’t look away from.
“I’ll always be there when you need me from now on.” He promised, and you believed him.
For several hours after that, conversation continued to flow between you, catching up on all the things you had missed over the years. It felt as though no time had passed between you at all, and you felt like the same lovesick teenager you had been the last time you saw him. When you finally separated late that night, it was with numbers exchanged and a promise to see each other for coffee later that week.
You walked the short distance to your apartment feeling lighter than air, thrilled to have Eddie back in your life. You thought about how you had never believed in the idea of soulmates before; now, walking through the moonlit streets with the memory of Edward’s smile fresh in your mind, you realised that that’s what you and Edward were - soulmates.
If you’re taking requests, can you maybe do another Dano Brian Wilson? Maybe Brian gets overstimulated and self conscious and ends up having a mental breakdown in the middle of the night.
You're my Comfort
Brian Wilson x f!reader
Word Count: 1491
Brian comes home one afternoon and is acting a bit strange. Late in the middle of the night, the reader wakes up and goes to comfort him during his breakdown.
Warning: Nothing really
Masterlist (Taglist linked here)
It had been a long day for Brian. I could tell as soon as he walked in the door this afternoon. He greeted me with a kiss on the forehead and went directly to our shared bathroom, turning on the shower. He stayed in there for a while, only coming out after supper had already gotten cold.
I had asked him if he wanted to talk but he just shook his head and crawled into bed. The house was quiet as I got ready for bed myself and climbed in with him. He was propped up on two pillows, staring emptily at the ceiling. The only signs that he was alive were the shallow breaths he took and the occasional bling of his eyes.
As I scooted in closer to him, his arm came down from resting over his head to pull me into his side. My own hand rested on his rising chest.
“Bri?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“Hum?” He hummed, still looking at the ceiling.
“I love you.” I leaned over to kiss his side, the only part of his body I could reach in this position.
“Love you too,” He sighed, squeezing me with his arm slightly.
I began to rub circles over his chest with my hance before I finally replied, “Get some sleep, yeah?”
He only nodded and I, not being able to do much for him, closed my eyes and let his heartbeat sing me off to sleep.
I’m not sure what time it was when I woke up, I only know that it was pitch place in our bedroom and Brian wasn’t on his side of the bed. Grumbling, I turned over and flicked on the bedside lamp before rubbing my eyes to remove the sleep from them.
There was no sigh of Brian anywhere. Standing to my feet, I wrapped my arms around myself and walked out of the room. In the hallway, I could hear the faint sound of water running. Confused, I tiptoed my way to the guest bathroom and pushed the door open slightly.
Peaking my head in first, I looked around the room, spotting Brian sitting in the tub behind the clear glass of the shower door. The water was spraying down on him, still in his pajamas.
Slowly, so as to not alarm him, I entered the bathroom. “Bri?” The call of his name caught his attention. He turned his eyes to me, giving me a sad smile before leaning his head back on the green tiled wall.
As I walked closer to him, I couldn’t help but notice his shoulders shake as sobs wracked through his body. Quickly, I descended to my knees, leaning over the side of the tub. My hand reached out to touch his sopping wet nightshirt.
“Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing?” I cooed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
It took him a moment to compose himself enough to speak. He was crying a lot yet the tears were masked by the water pouring from the shower onto his head.
“I can’t stop it.” He heaved a breath. I waited on him to explain. “All day the music,” He gestured his hands in an alternating circling motion around his head. “All day, it has been stuck in my head, over and over and over. It won’t stop. I’ve tried everything.” Another sob.
“Oh Brian, Sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.
“I-I didn’t want to bother you with it. I’m already a nuisance as it is.” He confessed, dropping his head into his hands.
I frowned at his words, shaking my head. “You are no nuisance.”
“But I am.”
My heart ached at his softly spoken words. How could he feel that way, how could he believe that I would believe he was a bother? Watching him cry against the porcelain tiles of the wall, I knew I had to do something, anything, to bring him comfort. So, in an instant, I stood to my feet.
“Scoot up, Love.” I leaned over the edge of the tub and gave his shoulders a quick pat. Brian looked up at me confused.
“What?”
“Scoot up, I’m getting in to sit with you.” I gave him a soft smile.
“But, but you’ll get wet.”
“Brian, I couldn’t care less about the water. You need me and I am going to hold you. Now scoot up.” I shooed him with my hands and then inched his way down the bathtub.
Carefully, holding onto the wall and Brian’s shoulder, I entered the bathtub and slowly sat myself down behind him. My legs slotted themselves on either side of his body and my nightgown rode up my thighs when I pulled him back to lay into my chest.
The water which had run down the back of Brian’s shirt, and was not in contact with the warm water spraying down from the showerhead, was cold. Causing my breath to hitch at the feeling of it soaking through the thin cloth of my gown.
My hands held tight to Brian’s shivering body. I whispered in his ear softly, telling him that everything was going to be okay and that I was there for him always and forever.
We spent ages in that bathtub, well past the water heater running out of hot water. Brian’s tears were finally dried and his shaking from being overwhelmed had died down, now it was just shaking from being in the cold.
His hair was a mess, as I had been gently playing with it. I was soaking wet now as well, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation of drenched cloth clinging to my body. Birds had started to chirp outside and with one glance at the frosted bathroom window, I could see the beginnings of a pink and orange sunrise.
Yawning, I leaned over Brian’s shoulder and turned his face gently with my hand to look at me. His eyes were half-lidded and his expression slack.
“I think it’s time we got out and dried off. You need some sleep.” I kissed his cheek before pushing him into a seating position that did not rely on supporting himself on me. Ungracefully, I clambered out of the bathtub, grabbed two towels, and shut the water off before reaching my hands out to Brian and helping him up.
His movements were languid, filled with tiredness and exhaustion. He stood there, staring at me as I undressed him, helping occasionally when I needed. He dried himself off and padded down to our room when I let him go get dressed. I stayed behind to undress and clean up, wringing the water from our clothes before taking them to the laundry room to throw them in with a new load.
When I entered our bedroom again, Brain was dressed in new, dry, pajamas and was seated on the edge of the bed.
“You didn’t have to wait for me you know. You could have just gone to sleep.” I mentioned as I threw on a new nightgown.
“Wanted another hug.” He said simply, holding out his arms and beckoning me to him.
I chuckled a bit as I moved into his embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around my middle and his head came to rest just under my chest. My hands wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his still damp hair. Leaning down, I placed a few kisses on the crown of his head.
“Thank you,” He mumbled against me.
“You never have to thank me Bri, I’m your wife. It’s my duty, remember? I made several vows about taking care of you, just like you did for me.” I squeezed him tighter to me.
He was quiet for a long while, I swayed with him in my arms in the content silence.
“The noise is gone now.” He spoke.
“That’s great, Sweetheart.” I pulled his head away from me so that I could gaze at his face. His eyes were dull with tiredness and his cheeks were puffier than normal after all his crying earlier.
“The sound of the shower helped to drown it out but you being there, holding me like you did, made it go away entirely.” He reached a hand up to my cheek. “You are my only comfort, I have no clue what I would do without you.”
I gave him a sad smile. “Don’t think like that. I will always be here for you.” Finally, I leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. It was soft and slow, full of love and affection.
Pulling away, he unwrapped himself from around me and settled into bed, opening the sheets for me to crawl in. I pulled him into my side and laced our fingers together.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be here the whole time.”
“I love you, so, so much.” He leaned up and kissed my temple.
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