#I’m going to blow my goddamn brains out. but not actually

[thedappleddragon]

Hmm

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”

You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.

He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.

“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”

You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.

“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”

The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.

It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.

“Shit.”

The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.

You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.

You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.

Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.

All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.

By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.

At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.

Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

Black Noir's Personal Handler.

Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.

Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.

Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.

Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.

Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.

You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.

You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.

Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.

Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.

You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.

Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.

Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—

“—Fucking Christ!”

Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.

The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?

For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.

Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.

“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.

For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.

You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.

“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.

“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.

He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.

Huh.

Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.

‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.

‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.

You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.

You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.

“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.

A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.

You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.

A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.

Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.

You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.

God.

You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.

At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.

This was definitely better.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[rafesteddy]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚗𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢/𝚗)

📖 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚣𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚢𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘

CW | smut, language, swearing, drinking and smoking, fingering, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, ownership kink, older Rafe, possessive rafe, jealous rafe, obsessed rafe, choking, spanking, degradation, name-calling, pussy slapping, mating press, reader calls rafe daddy

Tanneyhill…

Later that night

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes following Rafe’s house all the way to the top. The grandeur of it all begs the question, does a professor really live here? I mean, I’m sure the university pays him well, but not this well. This is old money.

Tracking the brick walk, you make your way to the front door, smoothing out a very different ensemble than you wore this afternoon. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful at this moment that you decided to dress up. Your pink satin mini-dress blows lightly with the cool night breeze, an open back cinched tight, showing off your curves.

Truthfully, I didn’t think that would happen. Just teasing between friends until that fictional tale came true. I never thought he would actually cross the line.

Rafe was right… The boys at school weren’t cutting it. They were selfish, inexperienced, and immature. That was only an hour? What could Rafe do with a whole night? On a bed instead of a desk? He said he had a ‘real big house,’ which is the understatement of the century. I can make as much noise as I’d like. He’s going to take care of me… Me.

I’ve never felt pleasure like that in my life. The part that excited me the most was that I was holding back, not wanting to get caught. What would happen if I let myself go? The part that scares me, however, is the fact that I’m already in too deep.

What if Rafe’s thought about it since? Not in the way I’m hoping he would, the way that would stop him from doing it again. A moment of clarity where Rafe realizes that he may have made a mistake. I’m his student… He’s my professor.

What if he’s doing this with other people? What if I’m not the only student in Professor Cameron’s class getting “extra credit”? Am I just another one of his girls?

I can’t think about that.

I’m feeling things. And, I can’t stop.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. “You… Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. ”You alright?“ He smiles, looking down at you.

”More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous.“

"About what?” He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. “Told ya I didn’t bite. Not unless you want me to,” Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. “Goddamn. You’re flawless.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

“So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don’t know… I didn’t expect to be here. I’m just - I hope you aren’t having second thoughts.”

“Me?” He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. “Never. No second thoughts.”

“Okay… And, am I the only one-”

“Who’s gettin’ extra credit?” He snickers, reading your mind entirely. “You are the only one.”

“Ever?” You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

“If you’re askin’ if I’ve ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,’ I’d be lyin’,” he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. “But, if you're askin’ me if I’ve ever done that with a student… never. I’ve never done that.”

You give him a soft smile. “I’m so happy I’m here with you.”

“Me too,” he hums. “Now, let’s go relax. Yeah?” You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. “Do you like flowers, princess?” He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Of course,” you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. “Six? Rafe, this-”

“I didn’t know what your favorite was…” He interjects, “Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

“M'so glad you’re here,” he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. “You’re still nervous sweetheart? Aren’t you?”

You shake your head 'no’ as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. “I’m not… I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. ”Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet,“ he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. ”Just a little bit now. I need it. Don’t let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet.“

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. ”No panties?“ He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. ”M'so fuckin’ hard, princess. Can’t wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick,“ he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe’s eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

”C'mon, baby,“ he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

”Hey… Woah. Woah… Wait a minute, baby girl,“ he chides. ”Need to hear you. Alright?“

”Yes, daddy…“

”Well, shit…“ Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. ”I could get used to that.“

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. ”You taste like heaven,“ he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. ”There ya go… Atta girl.“

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. ”Fuck, Rafe. M'right there,“ you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. ”Rafe, s-shit.“ Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

”Need it - Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth,“ you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

”Baby, c'mon...“ He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. ”I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour… You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?“ You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

”Yes, daddy.“

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. ”You’re mine,“ he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. ”I don’t want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?“

”What - Wait…“ You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn’t come into your office today-”

“You would have… eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don’t wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don’t wanna overhear some douchebag talkin’ about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You’re mine. My pussy,” he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. “My tits,” he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. “My lips,” he whispers as he kisses you again. “My fuckin’ girl. Mine.”

“M'yours, Rafe.”

“So, you’re a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah… Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun,” he rasps before taking a sip.

“So…” You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

“I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely.”

“Mob boss?” You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

“If I told you, princess. I’d have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. ”So, you’re pretty far from home. You plannin’ on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?“

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I’m from?”

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. “Uh… Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn’t help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with.”

“And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?”

“Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin’ yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It’s not safe, baby.”

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he’s pulling me deeper. He’s possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin’ love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

“You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. ”Just tryin’ to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that-“

”On New Year’s Eve…“ You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. ”Do you follow me on Instagram?“

"No… Just stalk you,” he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. “Like I said… Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin’ you. I don’t share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh…

”That’s all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?“

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?”

“I really wanna know…”

“That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess.”

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. “So… Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not.”

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he’s getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

“So, Rafey,” you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. “Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A." 

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. ”I got a few things you can do for me, princess.“

"Tell me,” you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. “Since you’re on your knees,” Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. “Why don’t you choke on daddy’s cock. Hmm?” You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe’s cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe’s hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. “So pretty on your knees, baby-” Rafe’s words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. “Fuck, honey,” he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. “Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe’s head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe’s eyes roll back. ”Jesus Christ, angel, where’s that gag reflex? Huh?“ He laughs airly. ”So good at sucking cock.“ Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. ”Mmm… Shit. There she is,“ he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. ”Gonna bust my load already… Damn, you look good,“ he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

”M'so wet, Rafe,“ you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe’s already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. ”Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin’ gag on me. Mine… This mouth is fucking mine.“

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. ”I’m right fuckin’ there. I - I’m… Fuckkk,“ he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

”Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face,“ you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

”You’re a fantasy, baby. Fuck.“ Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He’s speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

”Fuck me,“ he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe’s smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It’s a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

“C'mon, princess. Stop makin’ me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe… I don’t need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. ”Nah… This one’s for me.“ He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. ”Better than I imagined…“

”You thought about this?“ You hum.

”More than I should, princess,“ Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe’s absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. ”Shittt,“ he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he’s filled you to the brim. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

”Fuck, Rafe.“

"Squeezin’ me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

”Where are you goin’, Princess?“ He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

”Nowhere, daddy,“ you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

”My girl,“ Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

”Faster,“ you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

”Mmm… Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?“

"Yes - Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He’s just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe’s breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other’s sounds. ”M'gonna cum,“ you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

”Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you,“ he pants.

”Yeah-ahh,“ you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe’s thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can’t believe I just did that… I’ve only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

”Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don’t you?“ He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum… Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy.”

Rafe’s eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish.  He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

“Co'mere…” You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe’s rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. “Mmm… Baby?” He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

“Yes,” you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

“You’re never leaving.”

[141goblin]

Hi people. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a fanfic and I thought i’d put a feeler out there to see if people are interested in reading my silly little brain worms and thoughts. Word of warning, it’s little rusty and definitely still a work in progress. I don’t yet have a title or anything like that, but i wanna share (ok ok leave me alone)

Part one: Soft.

Reader described as plus-sized. Fem reader. Implied past abusive relationship.

John Price X Reader.

“Amelia, I said no!” I huff into the phone, getting increasingly frustrated at my best friend’s insistence. She had been going on and on about some big military party that her boyfriend was going to, and of course, because we’re basically attached at the hip, she ‘needs me there’.

“Oh, come onnnn! It’ll be fun! And who knows, we might finally find you a man for you to spend time with instead of you sitting in your apartment and watching reruns of gilmore girls twenty-four-seven.”

I huff and roll my eyes, grateful that she isn’t able to see me. Honestly, the thought of having to drag myself off of my couch and go through the motions of getting ready and attempting to doll myself up makes me feel physically ill. Truth be told, I haven’t left my apartment for weeks. Not since i had that god-awful night with my arsehole of an ex boyfriend.

My mind drifts back to that night, the time I spent getting ready and psyching myself up, all for me to get there and be completely disregarded and used. Like a piece of meat. He’d been blowing up my phone with messages ever since, insisting he was sorry, and that it won’t happen again, and he just got carried away. I hadn’t had the mental capacity to message him back.. My best friends voice pulls me back to reality.

“You’re coming. I’ll be at your flat in twenty minutes with pre drinks. Shower and shave.”

Before I get any chance to worm my way out of this ridiculous ordeal, she kisses me good-bye through the phone and hangs up. I throw my phone to the opposite end of the couch and groan into a pillow. Just when I was settled, watching gilmore girls for the umpteenth time, with a glass of wine and a bowl of crisps… Shit, maybe I do need to get out…

I down the rest of my glass of wine and wince at the taste. I make a mental note to stop being cheap and buying shit wine just because it’s cheaper. After all, it’s not like I can’t afford to buy nicer tasting wine. But truthfully, I don’t go to tescos at 8pm in my pyjamas and buy nice wine to be all sophisticated. I do it to buy cheap wine and get drunk while i watch gilmore girls and cry, wishing i had the same relationship with my mother that Lorelai and Rory have. It’s pitiful, and pathetic.

I huff and drag myself off of my couch and make my way into my bathroom to shower. Once undressed, i notice just how hairy my legs have gotten. But, is it really worth the effort, the sweating and red face just to have smooth legs? I brush off the thought and step into the hot shower. I do my usual: wash and condition my hair, wash my face and body, and then actually decide to shave my goddamn legs. It takes me the better part of fifteen minutes, but beauty is pain, as they say.

Just as i’m stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that’s all too small to cover my stomach and wide thighs, my best friend makes herself known, clearly having used her spare key to let herself into my flat. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust at the state of the place and she’s begun to pick up my clothes that are strewn about the place, throwing them into the washing machine. I roll my eyes and make my way into my bedroom, and she follows. She has that shit-eating grin on her face that I know all too well. No doubt she’s going to make me squeeze into some tiny outfit in the hopes i’ll impress some random man and hopefully let him fuck my brains out. She’s highly mistaken.

Instead of a skimpy outfit, we compromise. I end up wearing a mid-length silk dress that has a risky slit up the leg, but not too high that it shows off my cellulite, one of my biggest insecurities. She does up my hair into a messy bun with a few curls framing my face and insists on me wearing her favourite red lipstick, telling me i’ll look ‘fuckable’, her words, not mine. After strapping some heels onto my feet I take one last look in the mirror, face slightly flushed from the two or three glasses of wine Amelia practically poured down my throat to loosen me up. I should feel beautiful, but I don’t. I can’t help but feel like a pig, wrapped in silk and smothered in ridiculous lipstick. Ready to be taken off to market and ridiculed by men that think it’s shameful to like a fat girl. My ex-boyfriend’s attitude and words from the duration of our relationship echoing around my head.

“They don’t see you like I do, babe. They don’t see your personality.”

“You’re wearing that?”

“Oh come on, babe. I was only looking at her. She’s a model, what do you expect?”

After a too long uber ride full of pep-talks by Amelia and discreetly drinking from the remnants of a bottle of wine, we’re standing outside of what can only be described as a fucking mansion. The type that has stairs leading up to its entrance that’s held up by beautifully structured pillars, the type of place i write about in my short stories. There are too many windows to count, most of them lit up by subtle golden glow, the soft buzz of music that’s able to be heart from outside, something soft and jazzy, like the type of music you’d hear in an old jazz bar in New York.

I’m too busy marvelling at the ‘fucking mansion’ in front of me when I hear the recognisable voice of Amelia’s boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny is the type of guy that can make any girl weak in the knees with his charming smile and sparkling blue eyes. He’s sweet and cheeky, but not my type.

“There you two are! Was beginning ‘ter think ‘yaes got lost.”

I give Johnny a polite smile and continue looking up at the grandeur of the building in-front of me while he gives Amelia a kiss and whispers something flirty in her ear. Johnny and Amelia are solid, and he’s good for her. Plus, he knows we come as a package deal, so he makes sure to make me feel included when I end up tagging along on their days out or evening drinks.

“Looking good, bonnie.” Johnny says to me, with a cheeky wink. Amelia laughs, her signature sweet giggle, and it’s clear why she turns heads everywhere we go.

I force a smile and hold back a self-deprecating remark.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

Amelia takes Johnny by the arm and leads her inside, making me follow like an awkward third wheel. I try my best not to feel like an idiot as i’m led into the main ballroom, where i assume the party is being held. Johnny leads us to the bar and buys the three of us a round of drinks. I try to insist that I can buy my own, but both he and Amelia dismiss it and i’m left with a blueberry Martini sitting in front of me at the bar.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk between the three of us, mixed in with too much PDA between Johnny and Amelia for my liking, Johnny leads Amelia off to meet some of his friends, leaving me alone at the bar. I hoist myself onto a barstool, arse spilling over the edge. Fuck sake, I think. People need to start inventing barstools that are fat-girl friendly. I ignore the buzz of chatter in the ballroom and down the rest of my blueberry martini, flagging down the bartender for another one.

I begin sipping on the fresh Martini and start looking back around the room. I can’t help but think this would be a perfect scene to write in one of my stories. A room packed full of rich people dressed in fancy suits and expensive dresses, where everyone pretends to be on their best behaviour.

After a few minutes of being alone at the bar, I make peace with the fact that I will likely be alone for most of the night while Amelia mingles with Johnny and his friends. It doesn’t bother me, per say, but something deep within my belly wishes that one, just once, I could be the one to turn heads, to capture the attention of a group of people with nothing but my appearance and laugh, to have people willing to talk to me and learn about me, without feeling like it’s out of pity.

I shrug to myself and take a few more sips of my martini and let my attention wander over to my best friend and her boyfriend, and his group of (presumably) military friends. Johnny must’ve noticed me sitting alone at the bar and felt pity for me because I see him making his way over, sporting his disarming smile. I smile back.

“What’s the matter, Lass? Not enjoying ‘yerself?”

He leans on the bar casually, and it’s clear he’s making an effort to make me feel included.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine, Johnny. You can go back to your mates and Amelia, don’t worry about me.”

He cocks a brow and flashes that cheeky grin.

“Not gonna join us?”

I shake my head and take another sip of my martini, waving a dismissive hand. I attempt to play it off with a joke.

“Doubt i’d fit in with your military mates.”

He scoffs and looks jokingly offended.

“Aye, come on, Bonnie. We don’t bite. I know Si looks like a scary fucker, but we’re a nice bunch. I swear.”

I laugh and take another sip. Johnny is a good guy, there’s no denying that, even if it does feel like he’s taking pity on his girlfriends fat, single friend that looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Judging from the way he talks about ‘Si’, I make an assumption that he’s the one with the dirty-blonde hair, the one who’s built like a brick shit-house and looks like he could snap anyone in half with one hand.

Johnny points to one of the other lads, a typical pretty boy with striking brown eyes.

“That’s Gaz. He’s a good’un. Likes to flirt too much, but e’s harmless.”

I follow Johnny’s finger as he points to the third man. A man who’s wide, and fucking muscly, but looks like he has a soft layer of fat underneath that expensive suit of his.

“And that, that’s the Cap’n. The best of us all. Keeps us in check when we cause trouble. He won’t admit it, but he’s a softie at heart.”

My eyes stay on the wide man a little longer than the others. I see a smile under his well-groomed mutton chops and moustache that’s peppered with little greys here and there. His shoulders look like they’re about to burst out of his shirt at any given moment, and his hips are exactly the same. That’s all contrasted by his blue eyes, like a deep pool that women no doubt get lost in. The man’s a fucking contradiction. Too wide, Too soft.

Johnny’s voice snaps me back into the room, averting my eyes away from the man I know as ‘Captain’.

“Come on, Bonnie. Come say hello, mingle a little. We don’t bite.”

[macabr3-barbi3]

No Mercy

week 4!!! let's fucking go!!!

COME LOOK AT OUR MASTERLIST BY @synamartia IT'S GORGEOUS

SHOUT OUT TO ALL OF MY WIVES @hazelfoureyes @sugoi-writes @minkdelovely @fraugwinska (WHO MADE ALL OF MY BANNERS AND I LOVE HER AND HER LOVELY BRAIN SO MUCH)

Summary: Adam gets enough of you mouthing off during training and picks a fight. Tags: hate sex, oral sex (male receiving), fighting

You knew Adam was getting a little sick of you- but what was the point in being part of his special inner circle of angels if you couldn’t have a little fun with it?

You had mouthed off to him again, and in all honestly you felt that it was a fair question; what did he even do during the exterminations while everyone else was causing mayhem? From what you heard from the others when you joined the ranks, he usually just flitted around watching the carnage or hovered near the portal back to Heaven without contributing anything himself. So after weeks of asking during training, despite the lieutenant telling you in no uncertain terms to drop it, you finally phrased it a little differently.

“What, are you too weak to actually participate?”

You knew he wasn’t. You could see the muscles that flexed beneath his robes while he watched the girls training, the unparalleled power in his wings when he brought them out. Sometimes it just felt good to stir a reaction out of him, to have a strong emotion aimed your way from a powerful being. And yeah, maybe you were hoping a little bit that the constant questioning would eventually prompt him to give you and the rest of the girls a show- you weren’t the only one that thought your commander was sexy as sin, and a casual show of strength would send everyone through the roof.

Perhaps this was a step too far though.

Lute audibly gasped, as did the rest of your squadron. “Recruit, that is unacceptable,” she hissed, and took a step forward to reprimand you when a large hand on her shoulder stopped her in her place.

“Relax, Danger Tits. I’ll handle it. All of you- clear out.” His mask is calm, aloof, but you can see the twitch of the graphics on his eyes that betray his true emotions. He was pissed.

With no one else daring to question him, everyone including Lute was gone in seconds, leaving only you and Adam on the mats of the training room. He slowly strips his robes off, a simple white tanktop and sweatpants underneath his holy getup. You might have drooled a little at the sight of his bare skin, tendons tensing beneath the surface as he drops the clothing and stretches; he was built like a fucking bear, all compact muscle and wiry hair along his chest and arms, the hint of a stubbly shadow that peeked out beneath the edges of his mask.

You’re distracted from your observation of him when he tosses a spear your way- not one of the official, angelic spears, but the shitty ones used for training. His own hands were empty. “You think I’m weak? Alright, bitch, you fucking asked for it. Come at me.”

You stutter backwards a step, having expected some yelling; not a challenge. “What?”

“You fucking heard me. Swing the goddamn spear.”

Normally you would balk at such a demand- Lute would have your ass if she knew you had swung on Adam even in a joking manner. But Adam looked like he meant business, and he was technically a higher ranking commanding officer than Lute, so…

You swing the spear at him the way you had been taught to take down larger demons- aim for extremities to disarm first, and then go for a killing blow. He dodges with a simple turn of his heel, using his fingers in a ‘come on’ motion and urging you to swing again. But as soon as the spear is within Adam’s reach he has a hold of it, tugging hard from the tip- the force of the action drags you closer to him so he can spew bullshit at you. “You think I’m fucking weak?” He presses a finger to your shoulder and pushes, sending you tumbling back and tripping over yourself to the floor. His grip on the spear tightens with a sickening crunch before he lets it clatter to the ground looking like kindling. “Me? I’m the whole reason you’re here, bitch, and you think you have any business to fucking question me?” He squares his feet, arms lifted in front of him like a shield. “Come on! You’re tough enough to talk all this shit but you won’t actually fight? I’ll kick you off the squad right fucking now.”

You get up and charge him, managing to get one blow between his arms against his chest before he’s laughing and shoving you back again to land hard on your ass. Again, and this time you don’t even get a hit in before he pushes back and you fall. Again. Again. He shows you no mercy every time he knocks you to your ass, laughing like it’s a game and hardly even using his strength to push you around. You climb to your feet this time, and the first true whisper of anger curls around your head like smoke to combat the faint heat you feel at being the sole focus of his attention with no one else around to witness it. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, while your breath was coming hard, sweat dripping down your face from the exertion. You feel your face set into a snarl as you rush him this time, swinging a leg instead of your fist and aiming below the belt.

Bad sportsmanship maybe, but so was laughing in your face every time you failed to strike him.

It doesn’t matter- he catches your leg behind the knee like he had caught the spear, pulls you closer in a similar fashion, and wraps a hand around your throat. His wings open up behind him, and in a move so quick you’re not entirely sure how it happened, he’s managed to flip the pair of you into the air and slam you hard into the ground.

The air is knocked out of you, something not helped by the hand that rests on your airways, and the motion has dislodged Adam’s mask- he shakes his head to fling it off, and you’re greeted with his actual face, scruffy and rugged and too handsome for how close your bodies are- and you were right about how easy this was for him, not the slightest hint of moisture along his hairline. Adrenaline courses in your veins, demanding movement and action that you can’t attempt with Adam’s weight settled on top of you, still holding the leg he had caught at an uncomfortable angle hear his hip. It mixes dangerously with the arousal you’ve felt this entire time, making you want to do something stupid and telling like rubbing yourself against one of his thick thighs while he squeezed softly at your neck.

“Low blow to go for my dick,” he admonishes as he lets go of your leg and it slams back to the ground. “All that trash you talk and look how fucking easy it was to get you pinned under me. Still think I’m fucking weak?” His fingers flutter around your throat as he repositions, the action sending a blush racing to your face and spreading to your collarbone. He doesn’t miss it, a cruel smirk taking over his handsome features while he looks down at you. “So that’s the deal, huh? You just wanted a fucking excuse for me to manhandle you a little bit? You kinky bitch.”

“Fuck you,” you snap at him, trying to turn your blushing face away, and he releases a single finger from the grip around your neck to dig into your cheek and turn you back to face him. The move is such a casual show of his strength that it makes you swallow hard, unable to clench your thighs together with him between them.

“You wish,” he laughs, his eyes bright and mischievous, and he uses his free hand to grab the length of his cock through his sweatpants, a dark patch where the tip rested against the fabric. “Shit, knowing you’re getting off on this is hot as fuck- but being a mouthy brat doesn’t get you fucking rewarded, so here’s what we’re gonna do.” He finally releases your throat, allowing you to suck in a lung full of air while he stands before he offers a hand to you. He only helps you up from the mat as far as your knees before he pulls away, crossing his arms over his burly chest. “You’re either gonna leave- and stop fucking questioning me during training, or I really will kick you off the team- or you’re gonna put that fucking mouth of yours to good use for once."

Like there was any question about that. 

You settle more comfortably onto your knees and wait, but he doesn’t do anything more than pulling his waistband down below his cock and stroking it in front of you. And fuck, it was going to be a generous mouthful, the girth of him impressive even in Adam’s huge hands, if he ever got around to doing anything about it. “Are you going to do something with that,” you snark, and his eyes narrow. “Or do you have to wait for the women in your life to do everything for you-”

He takes the opportunity your open mouth presents him and thrusts his hips forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, triggering the muscles there to clench hard before he retreats until just the tip is left in your mouth. “I was hoping you’d take some fucking initiative,” he snaps, “but I guess just like with the fighting you’re all bark and no bite. If you want me to just use you like a fucking slut then that’s what I’ll do.”

He applies the slightest bit of pressure to the hinge of your jaw to get you to open up wider, and this time his entry is slow and controlled as he fills your mouth with the heavy weight of his cock, the taste of him salty and dark across your tongue. You moan around him, the sound unable to escape with how fully he takes up the space between your lips, and the vibrations make his hips jerk.

You reach a hand up to wrap around the substantial length that you don’t have in the wet cavern of your mouth yet, and he reprimands you with a harsh tug on your hair. When you glare up at him, he smirks; his golden eyes are a little glazed over, a flushed tint to his cheeks. “No fucking hands,” he tells you. “You got yourself into this with just your mouth, that’s how you’re gonna get out of it, too.” He keeps his grip on your locks to guide your head, pulling you further down onto his cock with a guttural groan tearing from his throat. Your own throat tenses at the intrusion, a blockage of your air from the inside rather than the out, and your eyes water at the strain of trying to breathe through your nose before he pulls out enough that you can breathe again.

It’s so fucking good. You don’t think he would react kindly to you slipping a hand under your training shorts so you refrain from doing so, instead simply rocking your hips against nothing while you let him use you to take out his frustrations- fair enough, since you had caused them.

Adam keeps a steady rhythm while he fucks your face, your mouth open and lax for him to use as he pleases; only occasionally does he push in a little further, letting the head of his cock dip into the wet clutch of your throat and bump against your soft palate. “That’s fucking right,” he pants as he notices the tears that stream down your cheeks- he uses the thumb of the hand still holding your mouth open to brush an errant drop away from your cheekbone. “You look good like this- fuck, I would have let you choke on my cock sooner if I knew that’s what was gonna finally shut you the fuck up.” You feel the thick vein along the bottom of his length jump with his words where it rubs against your tongue and you know he’s close, the thought of it making you whine around him.

He grunts at the feeling, hips losing their steady movements and his hand tightening in your hair, yanking your head forward and back over him- and then he pulls completely out suddenly, his fist clenched tight around the base of his cock. “Say you fucking want it,” he demands, tugging your hair so your heads tilts enough that you have nowhere to look but at him. Sweat drips down his forehead and chest, darkening the fabric of his shirt so you can see the coarse hair beneath it. “Say you want my cum and maybe I’ll give it to you, even though you don’t fucking derserve it. Come on.” He bumps the head of his cock against your lips and your tongue darts out to greet it, the shock of salt across your tongue enough to break your resolve. 

“Please,” you whisper desperately, your voice raspy and rough from how long Adam had been at it. “Fuck, please, Adam-”

“You gonna stop fucking talking back to me? Questioning me?” His hand resumes a slow stroke, the tip glistening with fluid that drips onto the mats below you when he pulls away from your eager tongue.

Fuck no. Not when this was the result it got you. “Not in front of the rest of the squad?” You offer as a compromise, and you can see him considering it before he relents. He wanted your mouth back on him more than he wanted a promise of peace- and honestly, you think he kind of likes the sass.

He parts your lips with his prick again, pushing deep with a single thrust. “I’ll take it,” he groans, and his hips are pistoning once again, not being as careful about not choking this time as he chases his release with the slick hole your mouth provides him. “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum- fuck, yes-”

He swells in your mouth and spills himself. There’s a couple hot pulses of spend that shoot down your throat and coat your tongue, the last couple of shots streaking across your face and lips when he pulls back, still fisting his cock to coax the last drops out and onto your lips.

The taste is thick and bitter, lingering long after you’ve swallowed. But you’ve never been so turned on in your life, the ache between your thighs transforming into an inferno at the look he gives you, still rocking your hips against the air. He drops to his knees on the mat with you, shoving his hand under the waistband of your training shorts and tracing the folds of your pussy with his thick fingers. “Fuck me, that’s hot,” he mutters. “You got like this just letting me toss you around and suck me off, huh? You want my fingers?” You nod, face flaming, and he brushes the pad of a digit across your clit, your hips jolting. “You want my cock?”

“Please,” you murmur, the sound soft, your head dropping onto his shoulder. “Please, Adam.”

His head turns, lips against your ear as he whispers- “that’s too fucking bad.” And then his hand is yanking out of your shorts and he’s standing, the movement dislodging your head against his shoulder and tipping you sideways onto the mat. From your vantage point on the floor, you see that cocky smirk of his is back in place despite the sweat that drips from his hairline, the flush of his cheeks after a damn good orgasm. “Fucking told you in the beginning that being a mouthy brat doesn’t get rewarded- you have fun taking care of that yourself.” He points finger-guns towards your shorts before bringing the hand he had dipped into your panties to his mouth, and the sputter of indignation you manage doesn’t get much farther than your throat as he sucks your slick from his digits with a mean wink. “Let’s try this again sometime when you learn how to show some respect to your fucking superiors.”

By the time you’ve managed to get yourself back into a somewhat upright position, he’s scooped his mask and robes off the floor and flown out of the training room. The slam of the door echoes in the now empty space, along with your frustrated groan as you fall onto your back.

[xmasterofmunsonx]

Got Your Number

Summary: You’re Steve Harrington’s older sister and after a rough and tumultuous breakup, you’re back in Hawkins, Indiana. 🌶️

Pairing: Harrington!reader x Eddie Munson

Author’s notes: hi hello!!! long time no update. been sitting on the first half of this for months and wrote the second half over the last two days. I love this story and honestly at this point I’m writing it for myself and everyone else enjoying it is just a plus. If you’re still hanging in there with me, thanks 🩷

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI!!), language, drinking, weed, mentions of past abusive relationship, body image issues, shitty parent relationship, smut

Word count: 8K

VII.

Two weeks had gone by in a flash while working full time at your dads office. It really wasn’t all that bad, and everyone that worked there had either known you your whole life, or they knew your dad well enough to not give you a hard time- whether it’s because they figured he gave you a hard enough time anyway, or they were afraid of him, you weren’t too sure.

Eddie and the guys seemed to have moved on from the record deal and decided to not sign it, and you were thankful because you were afraid they’d be making a huge mistake in doing so, but you didn’t miss the lack of spark that your boyfriend had shown the last two weeks- he’d canceled Hellfire one night, and was threatening to cancel it now at 4 pm, a few hours before it was supposed to start.

“C’mon, what else are you going to do?” You asked him, the work phone between your shoulder and ear as you were busy with some paperwork.

“Practice, and maybe practice some more. We’re having a really hard time nailing down Maiden’s ‘Wasted Years’ for our show.” You heard him sigh, and tapping his fingers on something at his work through the other end of the phone line.

“Babe, the song just came out a little while ago. I don’t think anyone expects perfection, and you don’t have to play it until you’re ready to.”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “I just can’t stop thinking about what if another scout is out there at the next show and we don’t blow them away? We could’ve just missed our chance to make it big.”

“Eddie, you didn’t. I promise.” You twirled the phone cord, “Steve said Dustin is driving him insane because he’s been bugging him since all you’ve been doing is practicing with the band or seeing me- you need to spend some time with them.”

“I don’t need the guilt from you too.” He said quickly.

“I’m not guilting you- I’m just trying to help you keep things normal as you… your brain adjusts to the meds.” Eddie had taken the doctors orders and actually complied with taking the medication he needed for two weeks straight. The first week was the worst- the mood swings were a little more unpredictable, and the anxiety was heightened but you could tell he was starting to level out a little now by the end of the second week. He was even getting better sleep already, and he hadn’t woken up from a nightmare since the third night.

“I’m doing better already. Do you want me to take you on a date or something instead?”

“Eddie, why don’t you want to have Hellfire tonight? You do every single Friday night.”

“I just… I don’t wanna feel different for that. I don’t wanna lose my spunk with it.”

“Do you really feel like you’ve lost it in other ways?” This was the first he’d mentioned any of this, and you really wish you weren’t having this conversation over the phone, but you knew it was probably easier for him to tell you these things without being face to face.

“I mean, kinda, I can’t get the riffs right on that goddamn song to save my life.”

You laughed, “Eddie. That song is a completely different sound from almost any other Maiden song, I heard you playing it the other morning before I walked out of your bedroom. You’ve got it. If anything, I think you’re focusing and you’re trying harder than you ever have before. Plus, this is Hellfire we’re talking about here- you are the most dramatic person I know, including right now, you could never lose your flair for dramatics. Do you want me to DM tonight, or something? I can pull out one of my old campaigns if you haven’t already stolen them all.”

“Would you?” He sounded sheepish as he asked the question.

“I may need some assistance in refreshing on actually how to properly be a dungeon master but I think I can swing that for once. If everyone’s okay with it.” You scribbled down some ideas you’d had as you listened to Eddie go on about how the guys usually played out the campaigns and you knew exactly which one you wanted to try out on them tonight.

-

“Never thought a Harrington would grace the table of Hellfire Club. Welcome.” Dustin spoke to you as you sipped on a glass of whiskey over ice.

“Henderson, who do you think Eddie got some of those twisted campaign ideas from? His little pea brain?” Gareth quipped at Dustin immediately.

“Hey!” Eddie said from the corner of the room, as you blew a kiss at him.

“I told you, we started Hellfire together back in middle school. Were you even born then?”

“What?! I’m not that young.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

“She’s not joking.” Gareth nudged Dustin- who’d looked all too confident when he learned you’d be the dungeon master tonight. “I almost cried once.”

You had to turn away to keep from laughing and avoid spitting out the alcohol in your mouth. You were feeling warmed up, but nervous as you waited for everyone to get to Eddie’s music store where he hosted the games in the back room. You loved the cozy feeling of it versus using a room at your school that you had to beg and plead for, and Eddie had told you it had been a fight to keep it going during high school without you being in the club to be the representative for it. He claimed they would’ve let you have any room in the schpracticeool if you asked for it, while they were begrudgingly given the drama room and even then sometimes they had to move a campaign night because of play practice running over. The back room was decked out with band posters, show flyers- new and old, and some odds and ends mounted on the wall.

“Ready, my love?” Your heart swooned at Eddie who’d also been sipping whiskey all night, his ringed hand was clutching a glass similar to yours, except his was a little more empty than yours. You loved how into character he always got, and you felt butterflies as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “Thanks for being willing to step up tonight.”

“I can’t say that it’ll happen often, but you owe me big time, Munson.” You locked eyes with his crazy wide brown ones.

“Oh believe me, I know how I’m paying you back tonight.”

“Then you better stop drinking now before you get whiskey dick, babe.” You whispered in his ear, and kissed his earlobe, your teeth lightly biting it- thankful his curtain of hair could hide your actions. Okay, maybe you were two glasses of whiskey deep now. But you didn’t have the energy you used to and you needed everything you could to pull tonight off.

Everyone had taken a seat at the table, Eddie had lent you his seat at the head of the table, and he scooted a chair up beside yours to help you if you needed it. You were excited, nervous, but mostly you were just happy that Eddie had decided to not cancel tonight. You could tell that he was really in his element here, and this normalcy was what he really needed.

“Alright everyone. Get nice and cozy, because we’re gonna be here all night long.” You sat down and rifled through your notes, smiling at a few of the add ons Eddie had scribbled down, god only knows when, as you started the campaign. You took a sip of your half refilled glass, then cleared your throat and started speaking. “Tonight, we’re in the kingdom of Evercrest.” You heard Gareth groan across the table and you shot him a look, he knew that you had many campaigns written for this kingdom. You remember that some of these used to take two or three sessions to finish, but they were some of your best work, honestly.

“Never heard of that one.” Mike quipped as he crunched on a Pringle.

“Shush.” Eddie snapped beside you, and you held back some giggles.

“Tonight we’ll be playing the Shadows of Evercrest. One of the darkest and most mysterious kingdoms of all- it’s a kingdom on the brink of being completely engulfed by darkness brought on by dark magic and ancient curses. Most recently, there have been many disappearances in the kingdom. Each disappearance has brought the kingdom closer and closer to being overthrown.”

Everyone was dead silent as they looked at you in shock as you felt yourself returning back to your old ways of being a dungeon master. You had the entire attention of the whole table, and you started to get sweaty hands. Eddie placed a gentle hand on your leg and squeezed it, you looked at him- his eyes were full of admiration as he encouraged you to continue on.

An hour into gameplay, you had another drink and you were feeling bold enough to reveal the first twist of the night.

“Elara’s influence in the kingdom is growing stronger, but how? When you’ve all been so successful so far.” You sipped and placed your glass down to your left. “There is a traitor among the allies.” Gasps were heard from all around.

“No! Absolutely not!” Dustin exclaimed, slamming his fist down, “that’s-”

“That’s how it goes, my friend. Elara has enchanted an ally, with her dark magic.” You waved your hand over them as if you were a witch yourself, pretending to cast a spell over them. “The illness that swept over Evercrest took her sister, and now she has plagued the kingdom with these disappearances seeking revenge in the name of her sister. The ally has been enchanted by her.” You kept on, “Will you confront your former ally and try to redeem them, or will you cut ties and focus on stopping Elara’s plans?” You sat back in the chair and watched as the group was talking amongst themselves and deciding what to do.

“Can we break?” Will asked as he raised his hand, almost afraid of what you were going to say.

“Absolutely.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing your notebook from the table so no one could peek, then clutching your hand and dragging you out the side exit door of the breakroom into the dark alleyway. “You. Have. No. Idea. What. You’re. Doing. To. Me.” He pinned you against the brick wall kissing your neck between words, the coldness was a harsh contrast to the warmth from his mouth. “Fuck, you’re such a goddamn nerd too, driving me crazy when you’re like this.” He nipped at your neck and worked his free hand over your body as you bit back moans.

“Never knew I did this to you, Eddie.” You chuckled as you entwined a hand of yours into his curls, letting him continue to scatter kisses over your exposed neck and chest. “Don’t leave a mark, they’ll know.”

“As if my raging boner isn’t enough of a hint, fuck.” He was out of breath as he pressed his forehead against yours. “That, t-that’s my girl back there. Not that bullshit cheerleader who was a fucking bully in high school.” You kissed him on the lips and he pulled you close by your neck. “I don’t wanna go back in there, ‘wanna take you right here.” His hand slid down to your lower back, then to your ass where he squeezed it and pulled it to meet his groin where he was very obviously hard.

“Eddie, we can’t. I promise as soon as we get back to your place we can, we’ve still got another few hours left.”

He quickly shook his head as he smothered you with more kisses, “can’t wait that long.”

“You’re gonna have to.” You pushed him off of you gently, grabbed the book from him and opened the door, walking back into the room, grabbing water and sitting back down in your chair. The rest of the room were gathered in separate groups, probably discussing game plans, and your absence didn’t seem to have been a problem for anyone to bring up thankfully. A few minutes later, a more calm (and obviously now high) Eddie returned to his seat beside you and winked at you, giving you a sinking feeling in your stomach that felt like butterflies mixed with a bit more of a tornado feeling.

“Alright, everyone ready to keep on?” You interrupted their quiet discussions.

“Question is, can you two kids keep it in your pants till we’re through?” Dustin joked as he sat down.

“Ask her, she’s the one who-” you lightly slapped Eddie on the chest to shut him up.

“Excuse you.” You fussed at him and everyone groaned. “It was all him, I swear.”

They all settled down and got ready, and the next two hours flew by. Finally you were getting to the end, and you were really proud of how everyone had handled your twists and turns to the campaign. You stood up to announce the next twist, “As you’ve now successfully uncovered all of Elara’s tragic past, you’ve all ended your quest at her lair, of all places. Hundreds of undead minions are waiting for you to cross her. Will you turn around now, after all of this? Or will you fight?”

“We’re going to fight.” Dustin answered for the group.

“Your death.” Erica chimed in and you held in a little laugh.

You went to sit back down, only to be met with the lap of your boyfriend instead of the chair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. No one let out a groan of grossness at this show of affection, so you leaned into it.

The game continued, “Elara summons even more undead creatures to attack you in her lair.” Everyone fought on, played their hardest that they could to defeat Elara, and you could feel Eddie beaming proudly behind you. “In a moment of redemption, Elara hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing her face as she gazes upon those who have fought so bravely to stop her. In a final act of sacrifice, she uses her remaining power to banish the darkness that has consumed her and restore peace to the kingdom, her spirit finally finding peace as she fades into the shadows. Thanks to all of you heroes for bravely planning along tonight, and saving the kingdom from an eternity of darkness.” You raised your last sip of your glass at everyone as they cheered triumphantly at their win, and you felt Eddie place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You could feel his hips slowly moving underneath your ass as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and sat sideways. “Munson, calm down.”

“Can’t, gotta get some relief. I had to use you to hide it.” He pulled you in for a kiss and you heard a few of the younger “kids” groan out their ewws at your sign of affection, to which you both held up your middle fingers as you continued to kiss each other.

“Alright, we’ll meet again next week.” Eddie pulled back from the kiss abruptly, and loudly announced to the group. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I forgot to close out a few things for the store tonight because I was too excited about having a guest DM so we’ve gotta stay back and do that anyway. You all can go.” He pushed you off of his lap, quickly, and everyone left the room in groups or pairs, the same ones they arrived in. You were browsing the dark music store that only had a few neon lights and lamps on as everyone seemed to have disappeared.

“Could you have been any more obvious, Munson?” You asked as you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind.

“I reaaaaally don’t give a fuck what they know, or think.” He pushed your hair to the side and started kissing behind your ear and you leaned back into him. His hot breath tickled and you shivered, “I also reaaaaally don’t think I can wait till we get home.” His hand was traveling down your stomach and you felt his fingers playing with the hem of your mini skirt. You didn’t stop him as he danced it up higher on your thighs, your body weight leaning more and more into his chest. Your arms were hanging onto his neck as your skirt was now bunched up at your waist, and he was playing with the waistband of your panties.

“Here? S’dark in here but what if someone sees?”

“Don’t give a damn baby, it’s my store, my rules. Now bend over.” He smirked into your neck and pulled your ass against his hard dick, you could feel how thick he was through his jeans already. One of his hands was pulling your lace panties to the side, while his other was skillfully undoing his belt buckle. “You wore these tonight, were you expecting something?”

Honestly, you weren’t. You just hadn’t done laundry to have any other of your more normal underwear clean. “No, promise.”

His hand grabbed at your bare ass cheek and he pulled back and slapped it, “anyone could’ve seen these, you know that, right?” You smirked at his possessiveness, it felt different than when your ex had been possessive. You knew Eddie was proud of you, and you also knew how talkative he was when he was this turned on, so you just let him keep going. You nodded to go along and felt his fingers tease your entrance. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet. I’m surprised you didn’t leave a mark on my jeans.” He lazily rubbed his fingers between the lips of your pussy, and you arched your back to beg for more than what he was giving you, pressing your hands into the wooden record display for support.

“Fuck, stop teasing me.” You looked back and saw him smirking, as he unzipped his jeans and let them slide down his thighs. He started lazily stroking up and down his dick, matching the pace of his slow fingers that were touching you earlier.

“You should know all about teasing, shouldn’t you? Grinding your ass on me, leaning over that fucking table tonight so I could just almost see what I wanted. Wanted to shove that skirt up and lick you clean tonight.” He stroked himself quicker and quicker, “You ready for me, babe?” He asked as he teased your entrance with his hard length, and you whimpered as he teased you with an inch or so, then pulled back out. He kept on a few times until you’d had enough and you thrust your hips back to take his whole length, making him grab onto your hips. “Fuck yeah,” Eddie grunted as he fucked into you and steadied your hips. The store was quiet except the low humming of the neon lights, and your quiet, low moans.

He pulled your hair in a makeshift ponytail with his hands and yanked your head up to his. “You drive me crazy, baby, do you know that? Can’t believe you’re mine after all these years.” He was relentless as he pounded into you, a skilled hand snaking around your front and circling your clit to bring you to your height of pleasure.

You felt yourself clenching around him as he kept a steady pace, and you came quickly before he followed suit, and allowing himself to collapse onto you.

“Goddamn, I can’t last more than a few minutes with you ever, can I?” You could feel his cheeks warm against your back as he chuckled and twitched inside.

“It’s fine, really. You’ve made up for it plenty of other times.” He let out a sharp sigh as he pulled out of you, and helped you fix your outfit and then his own. You both were smirking at each other as you wandered around the store.

“Ready to go?” He asked as he swung the keys around his pointer finger.

“I thought you had to- you’re such a bullshitter, Munson.” You realized he’d lied to everyone about needing to do something at the shop to get everyone to leave earlier.

“Maybe so, Harrington, maybe so.” He opened the door for you and you followed out after he finished locking the doors to the music store.

-

“They trust you with this?” You eyed your brother as you helped him scoot the grill out onto the patio around the pool.

“Mom and dad barely use it, so I taught myself how to a while ago.”

“Shocked that you haven’t burned the house down yet.” You muttered to him and he rolled his eyes back in return. It was an oddly warm fall Sunday, so you (Steve) had decided to have everyone over for a pool party, which you were sure would turn into a night party too. Absent parents were a plus sometimes, and you had Monday off of work because your dad had decided to close for the day.

You were both busy setting up the food and drinks in the kitchen when someone rang the doorbell, so you jogged to the front door to let them in.

In a line, all of the “kids” walked in, Dustin being last and giving you a high five as if you were Steve. You could tell they felt comfortable here as they piled in and made themselves comfortable before heading out back.

“We just… let them party?” You asked, coming around the kitchen corner to your brother.

“Nah, maybe a beer or two but they know the rules. I’m still the babysitter a little bit. Where’s Eddie?”

You shrugged, he was supposed to be here early to help you two get ready but he was either early, or late- never on time, but it was unusual that you hadn’t heard from him. “Must be running late.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at you as he sliced tomatoes. “What?” He asked as you eyed him.

“Just, not like him, that’s all.” You watched as he arranged the tomatoes and lettuce on a plate for burgers. “Alright, what do you know? You’ve never been so precise about where toppings for a burger go on a plate. I really don’t see anyone who’s coming even putting a vegetable on their burger.” You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the counter.

“Nothing.” He moved on to cutting up an onion, and you snatched the knife from his hand.

“Steve.” He said your name back to you in the same sassy tone. “What do you know?”

He sighed, “He didn’t wanna come because it’s a pool party, and he’s nervous about everyone seeing his scars. So he said he was gonna say something came up with the store so he didn’t have to come, then come later tonight.”

You frowned, you felt bad for Eddie because he was so sensitive about his appearance. Everyone knew what they were from, but you guessed that no one had seen him since the wounds had healed, he didn’t strike you as the shirtless guy at a pool type even before, but especially now.

“I’m gonna go call him really quick, can you handle everything for a minute?” You asked Steve as you handed him his knife back, and he seemed to be finishing up any prep work that needed to be done.

The phone line rang three times as you sat on your bed waiting for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” It was Wayne, which took you by surprise.

“Hey uncle Wayne, it’s me. Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, he’s practicin’ right now. Want me to get him for you?”

“Please.” You chewed on your lip, debating telling him it’s an emergency to hopefully have a better chance at getting him on the phone but you didn’t want to add to any anxiety he already has. You heard multiple footsteps before you heard the phone cord clinking against the plastic phone.

“Hey baby.” He sounded sweet and… oblivious?

“Hey, are you coming over? Steve’s about to get the grill going I think, and I’m kinda worried that he’s going to set something on fire, or give us all food poisoning.”

“I’m uh, I’m gonna come over later. Still practicing some today, and not really feeling like I wanna swim. Wayne’s home too and-”

“Steve told me you’re worried about everyone seeing your scars.” You blurted it out, immediately regretting it.

“I-I… yeah.” He sighed. You couldn’t see him, but you were willing to bet he was running his hand over his face and through his hair right now. “I know everyone’s got them, and they saw me all fucked up but, you know how I am.”

“Eddie, they’re your friends. And you don’t have to even swim, just come hang out with everybody. No ones gonna pressure you to swim.” You paced your room and looked out the back window of your room that overlooked the pool. Robin had arrived and was wearing a button up top, unbuttoned over her swimsuit. Steve was of course shirtless already with his swim trunks on, and all the younger kids were in the pool swimming. Nancy was in a cute striped one piece, and Jonathan had on shorts and a t-shirt. “Not everyone is swimming, and no ones gonna care if you don’t.”

“You really don’t think they’ll care?”

“No, Eddie. Come on over.”

He sighed, “Alright, give me a few minutes and I’ll leave. If I get pushed in, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay, you can fully blame me if someone else pushes you into the pool.” You laughed at him.

“Don’t wanna mess this hair up either, I’m actually having a really good hair day today.”

You giggled again at the thought of his mop of a mane getting wet from the pool, “I’m sure you are, every day is a good hair day for you.”

“Alright, Harrington.” He said, emphasizing the “hair”, “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and ran down the stairs, and headed straight for the backyard.

“He’s coming but he’s not gonna swim, and please don’t push him in.” You said to your brother as he was crouched down getting the grill going, or at least attempting to.

“Thank god because I have no idea how to start this stupid thing.” He stood up and you were seeing his scars for the first time, too. The one on his face was obviously there and you were used to it, but it was so much smaller. You guys had been night swimming a few times since you had been home, but you hadn’t paid much attention or seen them like you could right now. He had one on the left of his abdomen that still looked pretty gnarly.

“I didn't realize how bad-”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad, I know. Well, it was. I think just pretending they’re not there is the only way I can act like things are back to normal now.” He spoke softly as he pushed his sunglasses back up on his nose. “Gonna go grab a drink, you want one?”

“Just a water is fine for now.” You said as he walked away, the scars on his back just as pink as the ones on his front. You found Robin settled in on a pool chair and sat at the foot of her chair. She had already found a beer and was watching the kids play a game of chicken. Max and Lucas were very clearly about to win against Mike and Will.

“Your lover not gonna make it?”

“He’s on his way, he was a little hesitant to come over to swim.” You said, and Robin nodded, thankfully understanding what you were meaning without saying anything.

“I think he has the hardest time with it all because he thinks he should’ve died.” She said very bluntly, sitting back in the lounger. Steve walked over and tossed you a water, then returned back to the grill. “Like, he actually did. And the scars are just another reminder- as if any of us need one, and I don’t think he wants to be a burden and make anyone remember it anymore than we already do, you know?” You nodded, realizing again how little you had understood about what everyone had been through while you were gone, despite hearing so much about it all from them. “He had it the worst of us, but you know that. Steve was pretty fucked up too. He waited until Eddie was even somewhat stable before he got himself looked at, they could have patched him up way better but he wouldn’t leave his side.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah. Days. He spent days after we’d all been evaluated, cleaned up, stitches or whatever we needed before he said that he needed any medical attention other than what we could see on his face. Nancy finally told him he smelled like blood and sweat and needed to go before he ended up with an infection. I'm still not convinced he didn’t get rabies from those bats... She had to pry him away from Eddie’s bedside. Steve said he felt responsible for him dying, because Eddie sacrificed himself to save him for you.” She was staring out at the pool still, talking about all of this as if it were some lighthearted conversation, and you were left speechless. “When the doctors got their hands on Steve they couldn’t believe how much pain he was in for that many days and didn’t even flinch because he was so good at hiding it, but when they asked him to lie back on the hospital bed to get looked at, he was crying in pain. It was pitiful.”

You still didn’t know what to say as you fumbled with your water bottle. “I hate that I wasn’t here.”

“No, don’t say that. I mean, I hate that you were where you were, but you didn’t want to be here. In Hawkins, or the upside down.”

“I just wish I could’ve been there for them more. Anyone. You guys are so close and I feel like I’m just invading on this, and adding more to it all.”

“No, you’re good for everyone. You being back has helped Steve, and obviously Eddie too. That idiot is crazy about you. When he woke up and found out what had happened to the town, the first thing he asked about was some book in his trailer that none of us knew what he was talking about until Wayne got there after Steve called him to tell him his vitals were improving drastically.”

“What book was it?” You asked, not sure what he could’ve been talking about.

“We all thought he meant his copy of The Hobbit but he was talking about some dungeons and dragons notebook.” Your heart stopped as Robin rambled on longer, for minutes before you realized you weren’t listening at all.

You two settled into a normal conversation, but you kept thinking about the notebook that Eddie was worried in the back of your head until he arrived, he made a quiet entrance versus his usual display of dramatics. He was dressed in a ripped up, sleeveless Slayer tshirt and a very holey pair of black jeans, and a pair of black converse that you rarely saw him in. His hair was tied back loosely and he had a black bandana around his head too. You stopped mid sentence with Robin as you watched him gravitate towards Steve as if he automatically knew he needed help.

“Man, you’ve got it bad for Munson, don’t you?”

“Shut it, Robin.” You slapped her ankle playfully and she laughed at you.

“Have you guys said the l word yet?”

You looked at him again before looking over to her, “No, it hasn’t been that long yet.” You knew Robin was such a romantic at heart- she thought your story of two best friends torn apart, then reunited as “lovers” was the best plot for a romantic story.

“Hasn’t been that long?! You guys were friends for how long before this? And you both knew you had something for each other this whole time?! Come on!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Just say it and see what he says.”

Except, you knew how Eddie felt about the word. There were some things some people- most people actually, didn’t know about his life before he was living with Wayne full time. The only time he heard the word love and it actually meant something was his mom, and he didn’t hear it but a few times from her. And if his dad ever said it, it was when he was quite literally beating love into him. It was a subject you weren’t really ready to introduce into your relationship yet, and you didn’t want to be the one to push it on him either. You were following the cracks of the concrete around the pool until a pair of unlaced shoes caught your attention.

Eddie squatted down to your level of the pool chair and lifted your chin up with his two fingers before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips. “Hi.” He said, his cheeks rosy, and his eyes were a little bit bloodshot to match.

“Hi.” You giggled back, “You okay?”

“Smoked on the way over here, never been better.”

“I’ll leave you two alone, have at it.” Robin got up, abandoning her chair. Eddie replaced her at the top of the chair and motioned for you to scoot up between his legs. You settled with your back on his chest, as his arms wrapped around your body.

“Glad you decided to come. I missed you.” You said as you traced the faint scars on his forearms that were showing.

“Just saw me last night at the show, Harrington. But thanks for making me come here, I think it’ll be good.”

“I didn’t make you come here,” you defended, “I was just trying to get you out of the house and that head of yours for a bit.”

“I know.” He kissed the side of your head, “and I’m thanking you for it.” You’d half expected him to retort back with some type of a half argument comment like he was actually trying to say that you did force him to come here, but you could tell he genuinely was glad to be there. You snuggled in closer to him.

“I think your meds are working, you normally would have said something a little smarter than that back to me.” You said out loud.

“Yeah, I feel less on edge all the time now. ‘S kinda nice.” He hummed.

“Should you be smoking weed while you’re taking it?” You feel him shrug against you. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Guess we will.” He said.

“I need to run upstairs and change, keep an eye on Steve to make sure he doesn’t burn anything, please.”

“You sure you don’t need any assistance?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you made your way back inside to change into your swimsuit.

The first one you grabbed was an older black one that was a two piece bikini, you were a bit less curvy back in high school but you figured it would still fit. You slipped the bottoms and the top on and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your shape had changed so much, not necessarily for the worse by any matter, but you could hear the comments from your mom or Charlie in your head as you took yourself in from every angle in the mirror.

A soft knock rapped on the door, then it slowly opened and you weren’t one bit surprised to see Eddie there. His jaw was slack as he stuttered out a compliment. “Y-you look great.”

You blushed and tucked your arms in front of your tummy, attempting to hide your few pounds, suddenly feeling ashamed.

“I mean it. You look healthy. I know what you’re thinking. I haven’t forgotten what your mom used to say to you. I haven’t either.” He closed the door quietly behind him, then walked over towards you.

“How come I have to be the one confident about my body, but you get to hide yours?” You asked him as he enveloped you in a warm hug and rubbed your soft back.

“That’s a conversation I’m willing to have another day, sweetheart. You don’t have to swim either.”

“But I want to. All I have are bikinis though.”

“And you look fine in it.” He hugged you tighter, but then his arms dropped, “what’s that?”

“What’s what?” You pulled back to look at him and he was focused on your closet. “Oh, that’s just some old high school crap. C’mon, let’s go down to the pool so they don’t think we’re up to something.”

Eddie shook his head as he made his way over to your closet. He didn’t have to stand on his tiptoes to grab the shoebox from the top shelf of your closet. “I know exactly what this is.” He made himself comfortable on the floor of your room, and opened the lid. The laugh that escaped his lips almost sounded like a bit of a cry as he started to pick through the papers and pictures.

“C’mon, Eddie. I’m not in the mood for reliving the past right now.”

“Oh I am. Look at how cute we were.” He showed you a photo of the two of you, and some of your old friends from middle school. “God, I was such a nerd.”

“Was?” You asked as you sat down beside him and watched him carefully dig through your possessions. You watched as he pulled out each picture, most of them had a tiny hole in the corner from a push pin where they’d been displayed in your room. “Had to take all these down in 9th grade when I had my first sleepover with Grace. I didn’t want her to make fun of me. I don't think I’ve looked at any of them since.”

Your slightly shaky hand started to sift through the box too, finding a picture from your birthday party in 8th grade- the year your parents had the pool put in. Eddie was beside you, his arm loosely around your shoulder, and you were both grinning from ear to ear, everyone else at the party had smiles too, but none as bright as the two of yours. There was a picture stuck to the back of that one, and it was of you blowing out your birthday candles. Eddie was staring- yes, staring at you with nothing but admiration in his eyes. You realized then that Robin really was right about the two of you. Eddie had found a letter that you both would pass back and forth between classes and was smiling behind his hand as he read it, his eyes seemed to be shrink wrapped with tears ready to fall.

“Man, we were fucking clueless, weren’t we?” He said out loud.

You took a deep breath, “clueless to what?”

“Each other. I’m pretty sure I was in love with you back then.” He continued on, not realizing what he’d said.

“Back then?” You asked, picking at the corner of the picture in your hands.

“Yeah, back then. Look at this,” he pointed to a part of the letter and read it aloud to you as you giggled along. You didn’t want to ruin the moment so you went along with him as you continued pulling out old pictures and letters, some DnD notes, and random little trinkets.

Your heart was aching to say something to him but you didn’t want to press it, so you abruptly stood up and grabbed the box from him, putting the lid back in it.

“That’s enough for right now.” You stood on your tippy toes to place the box back in the top of your closet, where dust had settled around the edges of it for sitting in the same spot for so long.

“I can’t believe you kept all those. Even after the years you were so mean to me.” Eddie came up behind you and took the box from your hands and effortlessly returned it to its place.

“You know me, I keep everything.” You were a little nervous now, not sure where the conversation was going.

“What about pictures of him?” Eddie asked, his voice laced with disgust.

“Eddie, come on. You really think I’d keep any of him? I threw all the ones I had out in Chicago, and Steve got all of the ones out of the house before I made it home.”

“I’m shocked he didn’t make you burn your pictures with me.” He scoffed, pacing around your room.

“He didn’t know I had those.” You watched him scratch at his neck as he kept pacing. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re on the subject of keeping things… Robin told me that my DnD notebook was one of the first things you asked about after you woke up.”

“Yeah, I was worried that you would kill me if we ever talked again and I’d lost it.”

“Lost it? Eddie, I didn’t even know that thing still existed until you showed it to me.”

“Well. It’s the one thing that I had of you, of yours that was still… you. You know? You just switched in freshman year to this completely different girl desperate to fit in. I tried calling you, but your mom always made up whatever excuse you told her. Cheerleading practice, or at Grace’s house, or whatever it was. Finally I just gave up after you started looking at me with disgust at school if we saw each other. Then your sophomore year I knew I was never going to get you back, you were long gone.”

“But I’m back now.” You said quietly.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” He let out a disparaging smile, “You were with that abusive piece of shit for all of those years, and I was here rotting in Hawkins, being the freak of the town and then almost dying. Now you’re back, and you’re just… you’re back in my life again. But nothing is the same.” He sounded defeated.

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, and you felt your heart crumpling down.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is. Everyone is so sorry about what happened, aren’t they?”

“Eddie, please.” You grabbed his arm as he tried to walk out. He pulled it away from you, then turned to face you.

“I loved you, but you didn’t see it. You didn’t care, you just wanted to be the popular girl, you wanted everyone to love you. Sweetheart, none of those people did, except me.”

“I never told my mom to make up lies about where I was. I didn’t know you ever tried to call me. I thought you hated me for joining the cheerleading team.”

“Hate you? I could never hate you. Fuck- all of that bullshit you said to me in high school and look where we’re at now.” His chest was heaving, and you were feeling woozy from the emotional whiplash of the conversation.

“Where are we now?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Eddie’s hands slowly reached up to your face, and he didn’t miss the tiny flinch you made as you realized he was about to touch you.

“I think you know where I’m at.” His hands were resting on either side of your jaw, and his thumbs were slowly moving in circles as he looked you in the eyes, searching for something. “I said I could never hate you, didn’t I?” You nodded slowly at him, “it’s because I never stopped loving you.”

He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“Eddie, I love you too.” You said, placing your hands over his and squeezing them. You watched as his eyes squeezed so hard that tears started falling.

“Don’t say it just because I said it. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, you know-” he started getting himself riled up the more he spoke.

“I do know, and that’s why I’m saying it. I love you.” His eyes were still shut and he was breathing through his nose. “Look at me.” You grabbed his face to move it to yours and watched as his eyes opened up. “I can’t say it enough, I love you, Eddie.” He leaned in after he accepted your confession and kissed you again, still a quick kiss, but so much feeling behind it. “And I promise you, all of those people out there love you too. But not… not as much as I do.”

He smiled at you before grabbing your hand and leading you downstairs, and back out to the pool. To your surprise, no one made any comments about the two of you being gone together, and not as much time must have passed as you thought because Steve was just putting burgers and some chicken on the grill. Eddie kissed the side of your head before he went to the cooler for a beer and resumed his stand beside your brother.

Alright, you confessed your love to him, so why do you feel like you could hurl up the last 3 days worth of food as you stared at him?

“Grabbing a beer, you want one?” Nancy placed a hand on your shoulder and asked as she walked by you standing on the hot concrete, and you nodded a quick yes to her.

“Thanks.” You said as she handed one back to you.

“You alright? You look a little bit sick to your stomach.”

“Yeah, just hanging in there. We had another one of those big conversations and I feel a little off.”

“C’mon, walk it off and come sit over here with us and forget about it for a minute.” You followed her over to where Jonathan and Robin both were talking in depth about some movie ending and why it should’ve ended differently.

“Hey guys.” You sat down, sharing a chair with Robin again. You started drinking your beer quickly as they changed the conversation and you joined in as you heard laughter and splashing in the background. Minutes later, it all stopped. Everything. The laughing, the splashing, and any noise other than the few birds that were still around.

You four looked to the pool. Everyone’s head was accounted for, and then you looked over at the grill where Steve was laughing as he flipped a burger. Steve, just Steve. Where was Eddie? Suddenly you were being lifted up by a very cold, wet body and were getting thrown into the pool, beer in hand and all.

“What the fuck?!” You said as you came up from the water. Eddie was also… in the pool with you. Shirtless, but his jeans on.

“Dustin made a bet and I had to follow up on my end.” He swooped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. “Love you.” He kissed you on the lips before he let go of you and swam to the side of the pool. He pushed himself out of the water, making a show of his wet hair, then pulled his jeans off to be left just in his boxers.

“Hey man, put some trunks on.” Steve yelled at him before putting the lid down on the grill and running inside. He jogged back out with a pair of his red ones and tossed them at Eddie’s chest, “for your decency.” He said with a smirk, and Eddie put them on and hopped in the pool with everyone else, and a fresh beer for you.

[machinesonix]

Dune 2 is out, and as a huge fan of the franchise I am in a semiferal state of hyperfixated fervor. I’ve been reading the book again as a coping mechanism, but it has been sort of difficult finding a social outlet for it. See, there is a lot of fascinating worldbuilding that isn’t in the movies and a lot of messianic philosophy that isn’t quite summed up by ‘well actually it turns out Duncan is the real Space Jesus.’ My wonderful girlfriend suggested this metablogging thing might be a better way to get my fix than stopping strangers on the street with a passion for science fiction easily mistakable for radical Islamic fundamentalism so HERE WE GO

One thing that kinda blows my mind reading through Dune is how both movies have given us radically different portrayals of Baron Harkonnen and how both of them are totally believable in the context of the original text. If you’re not familiar, the new sexy Dune gives us this raspy Kingpin type Baron that wades around in a bunch of unsettling fluids with this villainous gravitas like a fascist hippopotamus. In David Lynch’s 1984 Dune we are still dealing with a caricature of obese evil, but he’s just so goddamn jolly about it. He’s giggling and spitting and cavorting around in antigravity while Games Workshop writers take note about how everyone loves his boils. These depictions are so opposite to each other that seeing them both in the text is giving me this weird double vision.

I think the reason is this beautiful context we don’t really see in either version of the film, and that is the psychopath mentat Pieter DeVries serving absolute cunt with his exposition. It’s a worldbuilding thing. The Baron has a 15 year old Feyd-Rautha watching his uncle to learn a thing or two about statecraft. Pieter is a twisted mentat, which is like a human computer with an OS optimized for human rights violations and he is just having none of the Baron’s shit. He flaunts his expensive drug addiction, offers to dance, and repeatedly reminds the Baron that he was too stupid to have come up with this Snidely Whiplash shit by himself. Pieter correctly reasons that the Baron will have him dead as soon as he has outlived his usefulness and that his attitude isn’t going to be much of a determining factor. For now he is very confident that he remains useful.

So eventually Feyd is like ‘Uncle, I’m just watching you argue, I could be playing GameBoy right now’ because GameBoy is what Feyd-Rautha calls the guy with needles for teeth that he hunts through the steam tunnels. And the Baron goes ‘Ah, but you are learning something. See, one of the great things we lost during the robot jihad were Excel spreadsheets that weren’t little bitches.’ And that’s where it gets me. I can’t tell if this is an impatient mastermind flexing his general obesity or a plague-clown who invited his sassy laptop in to make everyone watch his sick burn. Maybe those aren't mutually exclusive. Maybe it’s not that weird and it’s just David Lynch brain poison leaving its indeliable mark. 

Mostly I think it’s a profound tragedy that we don’t have an on screen adaptation of Pieter DeVries going full fucking Starscream. Like yeah, we see some animosity but we as an audience have been robbed of seeing a dude who can do orbital physics calculations in his head acting like he just figured out nothing actually happens when mom finishes counting down from ten. As a millenial STEM graduate, I feel a deep sense of empathy for this human calculator vocalizing to his employer that he hopes his home burns down. 

[gaymurdersalad]

Legacy, you should probably go speak to David, he's really upset and misses you

>What was that, Dear Asker?

>Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I call you that, by the way.

>I’m sure David is just incessantly rambling about something he thought up in a drugged haze, it cannot be all that—

>SPORTSY!? SPORTSY, BABY, ARE YA THERE!?

>Oh, fucking Christ, here it co—

>AGHK—

>SPORTSY, BABY, I MISSED YA SO MUCH, C’MERE!!

>NO, NO NO NO— GET OFF OF ME YOU SLIMY BEAST, GO BACK TO YOUR CORNER—

[ THUD! ]

>Sportsy, honey, Sportsy, are ya okay?! Did anyone hurt’cha?? You smell different, you smell like somewhere unfamiliar— where’d you run off to?! Without me?! I-

>Oh, you fucking toddler, I was gone for thirty fucking minutes!

>S- Sportsy, I thought you left for good! Wuh— Where’d you go, I-

>I went to get some cigarettes so I don’t kill myself trying to tolerate you! Jesus Christ, you make me want to gouge every organ out of my wretched corpse— Get off of me!

>S-Sportsy— OOF—

>You and your goddamn derangement! For the love of god, can you not just leave me alone?? Can you not let me rot in peace, you stupid, ignorant dog?! Fuck, Christ— You make me so irrationally angry, you— Goddamn you! Leave me the fuck alone, stop acting like I owe you any ounce of affection you miserable beast!

>I-

>Quit the waterworks— stop! I’m so tired of you, you— you make me fucking wretched!

>Sp—

>THE GODDAMN NICKNAME!

>… I’ll do better…

>No, no you won’t. You’ll continue to make me want to blow my fucking brains out, I know it. You can’t stop leeching off of me, can you? The same shit with Dear Henry; you claim you love us, and yet— yet you make us miserable! Why? You don’t care about me at all, you stupid thing! You just want to replace the failed project of a father you saw Henry to be with… with me!

>You don’t give a single shit about me, you just need another host to feed your goddamn delusions.

>Get the hell out of my face, get out. I need to smoke this conversation away to focus on the work that actually matters. Get.

>…

>… I’ll do better…

>… I’m sorry…

[gentlebilady]

My other Chappell Roan Harringrove songfic

Steve was blowing like a goddamn race horse, his breaths loud and quick. His body was trembling, fine tremors running through his legs, his stomach clenched tight. He opened his eyes and looked out the windshield of the car – it was dark but the moon was bright and it lit up the cornfield they’d parked by. He looked down when the head his hands had been gripping shifted; Steve forced himself to release the curly hair wrapped around his fingers. Billy was grimacing.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy grunted.

“This fucking hurts, dip shit.”

Steve giggled, the sound escaping him before he realized what he was doing.

“Oh yeah, yuck it up. You get your rocks off, and I’m squeezed into a footwell like a goddamn clown.”

Steve’s hand, completely independent of his brain, brushed a few strands out of Billy’s eyes; those eyes closed and his head leaned into the hand, before Billy huffed a breath, pinching Steve’s exposed hip and slapping at the door.

“Come on, man, open up. I gotta stand up, my legs are killing me.”

Steve started to open the door, then, belatedly, did a quick look around, checking to make sure no other cars had pulled up. The backroad wasn’t commonly used as far as Steve knew, but teenagers were always looking for new spots to neck. The area was empty. Steve stumbled out, feeling weak and giddy, and did up his jeans. There was a scuffle by the car and he spun around.

Billy was down on one knee in the grass, cursing and frantically rubbing his calf.

“Fffffuck.”

Steve grimaced in sympathy.

“Charlie horse?”

Billy grunted before falling back on his ass and stretching his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the car. Steve knelt by his feet, wrapped his hands around the man’s calves, and started long strokes up and down. It wasn’t easy over the denim but he found a rhythm. He noticed the silence after a moment and looked up.

Billy was watching his hands, his upper body relaxed against the warm metal of his Camaro. His eyes shot to Steve’s and Steve suddenly felt the way he did when Billy crawled between his legs in the front seat: heart racing, mind blank. Somehow, it had the same feeling of intimacy, despite everyone having all their clothes on.

“What are you doing?” Billy’s voice had an edge of something in it that Steve didn’t recognize, but it stopped his hands in their tracks.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Just trying to help. I would do this when I got cramps.”

Billy was silent for a moment before drawing his legs away and standing up.

“Thanks, man, I’m good.”

Steve was left kneeling on the ground looking up and feeling just a little bit foolish, though he wasn’t sure why. He quickly stood.

“Yeah, sure. So, um, whatcha wanna do now?”

Billy twitched.

“I’m heading to Jenning’s.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah. He’s having some sort of party or whatever.”

“Oh.” Steve felt even more off center. “I thought we were-”

“You want me to drop you at your house?”

“oh. Um, yeah, sure.”

Billy headed around to the driver’s side and slid into the car. Steve tried to gather himself for a moment, before getting into the passenger seat. The seat was still pushed all the way back and he immediately had a vision of Billy on the floor between his legs, fingers scrabbling at his zipper. The memory gave him some courage.

“Actually, take me to Chris’. I forgot it was his birthday.”

*

Steve hadn’t exactly forgotten. He knew about the party and had been planning to go. But that morning he’d been playing a game of pick up at the local park with some guys he used to play on the school team with and Billy had shown up. Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to him since he’d graduated – he was just as gorgeous as Steve remembered. Surprisingly, he also seemed calmer, more settled in his body. As the day got hotter, the game got lazier, and after a few hours, the group started to break up and head to wherever they were going, and Billy drifted over to Steve.

“Hey man, wanna hit up the diner?” He looked directly at Steve as he said it, his eyes focused and piercing.

“What?” Steve squinted – he had no idea what Billy was asking. Billy snorted.

“Do you want to grab something to eat at the diner?”

“With you?”

“Yeah, man, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, Harrington, I don’t know! To catch up, or something!” Billy started to turn away. “Forget it, man.”

“Oh! Um, sure. I’m starving.” Billy stopped and swiveled back, glaring at Steve.

“Meet you there?” Steve smiled as he stuffed his towel and water bottle in his bag.

Billy had a wary look on his face, but it dropped as Steve fought his belongings.

“Sure. See you there.” He turned away and walked to his car, his body loose but powerful. Steve caught himself staring and shook his head, picking up his overfull bag and headed to his own car.

~

I got dragged into a reading hole for the last week or so (the Merry Gentry series, A Taste of Gold and Iron, and now The Cruel Prince) but I'm itching to write again, so -

HERE YOU GO!!!

There is more. It has not been edited. I write and post like a giddy kindergartener using their favorite two crayons to color a picture that should probably have more than two colors, and then running to show it to their teacher.

Y'all are the teacher.

[bluelily0728]

Fanfic Nath x OC : New beginnings (Part 13)

Part 12

We return to the pov Nath, the next chapter will have a time skip :) I will try to post faster

____________

CHAPTER 12

____________

POV NATHANIEL

“Do you know Nath?” Lilian asked.

At other moment, I’d have found it adorable that she called me by my nickname… But not when I was about to be… EXPOSED!

“I do. We studied together…” Ayla said coldly, her tone like ice as she stared at me suspiciously “What I didn’t expect was that you two knew each other.”

Fuck my luck...

This had to be fate screwing with my life.

Again! As usual...

How can this 2 be cousins?!

Lilian is shy, speaks softly, blushes if someone looks at her for too long. Ayla? Ayla is the complete opposite loud, straightforward, bold.

She’s tall, must be around 1.70m, athletic body that said “I basically live at the gym” way. Her hair was short, sleek and bright orange. Lilian, on the other hand… she’s a bit shorter, maybe 1.65m I don't know. Slender. Her legs were gorgeous, shapely and soft and so feminine. And her ass well, it had this subtle curve that made me look more than I sho-

“Jesus Christ, Nathaniel! You’re literally drooling over your new friend while Ayla’s two seconds away from killing you... FOCUS!”

But now that I think about it… their eyes. There’s something there. A subtle resemblance in the shape. Big, expressive, framed with long delicate lashes. The only real difference? Lilian’s are a soft forest green, while Ayla’s are a deep, warm brown. They have similar nose too small, upturned and cute.

And me? I was standing there, right between them, about to lose someone I never wanted to push away in the first place. I had to stop Ayla from mentioning Marta. I had to. Lilian couldn’t find out like this. I swear I was going to tell her… I just got distracted. I always do when I’m around her…

“He’s the guy I told you I met recently,” Lilian explained. Apparently she had mentioned me, just not by name.

Ayla crossed her arms, and her stare could’ve cut through steel. If I said one wrong thing, she’d blow it all up. And I wasn’t ready to lose Lilian over something I hadn’t even fixed yet.

“Actually, I came to drop off the wedding invites,” Ayla said suddenly, pulling two envelopes from her bag “ I was gonna give one to Lily, but since you’re here, Nath, here’s yours too.”

She handed it to me without breaking eye contact. I swear I could hear the silent "Hurt her and I swear to God I will destroy you" ringing telepathically.

“Oh! They’re ready already?” Lilian sounded delighted “And you picked the seafoam green ones I suggested!”

“Yeah. Thought they suited me and Kentin,” Ayla replied with a soft smile “And you’re the expert in events, aren’t you? Literally your job.”

The two of them spent a few minutes talking about the wedding, dresses, decorations, ceremony details all of which flew straight over my head. My brain was still spinning from panic. When Lilian finally said she had to go, I felt so relieved… for like two seconds.

“I really have to run. Thanks for lunch, Nath. Really.” she smiled sweetly and kissed my cheek.

“Let’s plan another one soon, yeah?” I said, trying to sound casual without even daring to glance at a certain redhead.

“Of course!”

“Talk later, Ay!”

The cousins exchanged kisses on the cheek, and Lilian disappeared into the Goldreamz office, her soft silhouette vanishing behind the glass doors.

And the second those doors shut… I turned and found Ayla standing there. Arms still crossed. One eyebrow raised like a goddamn prosecutor.

“Now talk,” she said firmly “What the hell are you doing with my cousin, Nathaniel Carello?”

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair, trying to look less guilty than I felt.

“Lilian and I… we’re just getting to know each other. We’re friends.”

“Friends?” she snorted, rolling her eyes “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m not in the mood.”

“Ayla—”

“Look, honestly? I don’t even care if you’re cheating on Marta. Frankly, that bitch deserves it. Yeah, she’s hot. But she’s a manipulative, selfish snake. Toxic as hell. You were always an idiot for staying with her. If this is revenge, fine, go off. I’d even say good for you. But what you’re not going to do is use Lilian!"

That got to me. Hearing Ayla say it like that made my blood boil. How could she think I’d use Lilian like that?

Then again… can I really blame her? I’m not exactly the did good decisions in the past. My reputation in college clearly left some damage behind.

“Lily’s… different, Nath,” she said, her voice softening now, almost vulnerable.

“She doesn’t trust people easily. Never has. She keeps to herself, always afraid she’s going to disappoint someone. But with you?” She looked away for a second. “She talks about you like… like you’re already part of the family. Like she’s known you forever. With this weird glow in her eyes. She smiles when she says your name. Do you have any idea what that means?”

I looked toward the Goldreamz entrance where Lilian had disappeared just minutes ago.

“If you’re still with Marta… then walk away from Lilian. Don’t hurt her, Nathaniel,” Ayla said, her voice hardening again “Because if you do, I swear I’ll end our friendship. For good.”

I turned back to her, dead serious.

“I’m not the same screwed-up guy I was back in college,” I said, surprising even myself with the conviction in my voice “I’m not that coward anymore. I’ve changed. And I won’t let anyone, not even youdrive Lilian away from me!”

Ayla raised a brow, the edge of her lips curling into a smirk.

“Aha. So it’s not ‘just friends’, huh?”

“Oh please.” I rolled my eyes with a sigh “One more. Just one more person adding their name to the ‘Nath, admit you have feelings for her’ club.”

“Maybe because you actually do?” she teased.

“We only just met…”

“Sure. Right.” She made exaggerated air quotes.

“Nath... I fell for Kentin the second I saw that cute nerd with big glasses. I’ve been in your shoes once.”

“It’s not the same…”

“Maybe not. We’ll see.”

She smiled knowingly and shook her head, like she understood something I didn’t.

“I’m not going to pressure you. I get it. But before you go any further with Lilian, end things with that bitch Marta. She’s still rubbing up on Eric. You know your relationship with her is done. Admit it.”

“She told me about the gym thing,” I said quietly.

“She told you Eric gave her a ride?”

I nodded.

“And you know she did it to provoke you, right?” she said “She went with him to get back at you. Like a warning like she’s saying you’ll lose her if you keep ignoring her.”

“How do you know all this…?” I asked.

Ayla laughed bitterly.

“Everyone sees it! You’re the only one still pretending not to.” She started walking away.

“And by the way, that bitch isn't invited to my wedding.”

And just like that, she left me there. Completely alone.

(...)

I had to rush off to work because I was late. Thankfully, since it was a rare occurrence, I didn't get into too much trouble. I collapsed into my chair and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.

"And you know she did it to provoke you, right? She went with him to get back at you. Like a warning like she’s saying you’ll lose her if you keep ignoring her." Ayla's words were on my head.

I picked up my phone and opened my messages with Marta.

"Maybe we should take a break."

My heart was pounding not out of passion like it once did, but fear. Fear of what came next.

I stared at the words. So short. So simple. Yet they felt like the beginning of the end. The acknowledgment that something had already ended a long time ago.

My thumb hovered over the send button. Just one tap. One tap and everything would change.

“Come on. Do it, Nathaniel. End this shit already!” I urged myself.

A knock on the door interruped me. Someone came in.

I looked up.

Of course… Just my luck.

Eric...

“Agent Ward,” I said coldly.

He walked in like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re late,” he commented.

I kept my eyes on my computer screen, refusing to acknowledge him.

“You can stop be happy now. Mike’s coming back tomorrow. He recovered quicker than expected.”

He sat in Mike’s chair like he owned the place.

I look at my phone still in hand, the message still open. Then I locked the screen and slid the phone into my pocket.

“Good,” I said, with a sarcastic smile. “When I’m off, I’ll call Armin and Castiel for a beer to celebrate!”

“Sounds good,” Eric replied, tone as cold as ever, with his eyes studying me “Bet you’ve been counting the minutes till you didn’t have to stay with me anymore, huh?”

“Well… normally we don’t like spending time with backstabbing bastards who sleep with their best friend’s lover.” I didn’t sugarcoat itI stabbed right where it hurt.

He looked at me, surprisingly calm.

“I love Marta,” he said, that calmness making it all the more provoking. “And I don’t regret it. I did what I felt was right… and I’d do it again.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his desk, his eyes locked on mine.

“I loved her. I still do. And if anyone hurts her…” His voice dipped, dangerously low. “I swear I’ll destroy them. Doesn’t matter who it is. Even if it’s someone I once called a brother.”

For a moment, I didn’t move. Silence fell between us thick and suffocating.

“Is that a threat?” I asked, coldly.

“No,” he said with a smile “It’s just a warnning. Make her happy… or get ready.”

My jaw clenched trying to keep my cool, but inside I was ready to punch him. If we weren’t at work, I swear I would’ve punched him so hard.

“She deserves to be happy, huh?” I said with with a sarcastic smile again “The same girl that go to you even after saying she loves me... You’re so pathetic. You want someone that sleeps in someone else's bed? That it? Do you think she likes you? She just like the feeling of adrenaline! Even if I left her do you think that you will have some future? Open your eyes! If she betrayed me she would betrayed you too!"

Eric’s eyes show a flicker of discomfort. Good. I hit the nerve.

“Now do me a favor… Forget I exist. And don’t ever talk to me again just the necesary for work.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I take my phone.

It was a message from Lilian.

“Good luck at work, Nath. 💙 Hope they didn’t give you too much of a hard time.”

I smiled, ignoring the angry and hurt glare that Eric threw my way.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job Post 354: That Was Then, This Is Now, p6 (Gianna Interlude)

I was sitting there still seething, hunched over my keyboard feeling a lot more rage than I should. “That fucking bitch! Who does she think she is?!” I actually spat aloud. Ugh…hnghh hnnngh nnngh. “She’s just a fucking lab rat!” She can’t treat me like this no matter who she’s related to! Corporate was going to hear about this!

First it was important that I thoroughly review the evidence fuck me

Again.

My right hand pushed the mouse across the screen as my left remained buried between my legs frigging myself for all I was worth. I couldn't help it. It made me so fucking angry, but argghgggghhhhh fuck it’s so hottttttttt

I scrubbed through the footage, the replay, the recording I’d done of the whole thing, starting with my talk with him. Then Morgan. Then her coming in and turning off the monitor so he couldn’t see or hear me anymore but I sure as fuck see them do their walkthrough which seemed to excite the fuck out of her when she started thinking about her hive getting so much fucking bigger. The goddamn bitch!! We’re both queens and while she’ll have like hundreds of them before we know it I’m still fucking stuck here like a goddamn idiot all by myself and all I have to show for it are these fucking monster tits.

Plus she has him!!! AAAAGHHH!!!

My scrubbing stopped the footage, landing on a still image of the doctor and his absurdly huge dick. Nine, ten inches? Thick as a horse?! And it looked even bigger on his tiny-ass frame. It was a monument, it was meant to be NNGH! worshiped!

Stop it stop it stop it he’s a fucking asset nothing more

My hand was fucking trembling and I clicked play and watched the subtle bob of his cock as Melissa fondled his huge balls.

That bitch didn't deserve him! It should have been me!! I should be the one fileting that massive cock of his! Making him whine like a little bitch! Making him blow his load into my mouth or between my tits or into my…tight…little….Urghh! Pussy!!!

Again! Need to watch again!!

I scrubbed through the footage again, just to watch his face. I zoomed in on his eyes. Those eyes. Fuck those eyes!! I knew it, of course I knew it, that it was just the product fucking with my brain and bonding me to him but that didn’t goddamn matter I was angry and I was jealous and get out of the way of a jealous Gianna Albertini because she will mow you down like a fucking reaper. Damn you! You giant big-ass bitch get away from him it wasn’t supposed to be like this!!

I stood up, violently, my chair sailing backwards behind me across my living room. I couldn’t get my jeans down fast enough so I just pushed them down my hips, my panties too. NNNGGHH!!!

He’s going to be mine he’s going to be mine he is.

Fuck the study. I’m gonna come get you.

He’s going to be…fucking…MINE!!

And then I heard the ripping.

And felt the surging.

Haha omigod

Oh my fucking god!! Oh christ hahahahaha

Haha the little shit wants….nngh…big?

They’re fucking tearing around my legs.

Oh shit…oh god…

The little fucking infantile boob-monkey simp wants Melissa?

JESUS my bra. OH GOD YES!

Then that’s what you fucking get.

<<snap!>>

I’ll…nnngh…I’ll give you Melissa…

================================

(additional, more NSFW imagery on Patreon)

[literallyjustanerd]

Could you do Cody or Fox for the music thing? Thank you 💖

Thanks for the ask!! And for the two excellent choices. I ended up doing both :) I'll list the songs first then share some details below the cut:

Cody:

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Shelter - Porter Robsinson

Way Out There - Lord Huron

Fox:

Typhoons - Royal Blood

Uprising - Muse

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

Anyone else who wants a 3 song playlist on a character of their choice, please feel free to drop a name in my inbox!

My favourite lyrics from each song and some character rambling below:

Cody:

I love Cody so goddamn much okay he's such a good character for the little we see of him. He's strong but gentle and so scarily competent but he doesn't ask for glory. He's absolutely lethal in a fight but he still tries to end conflict with peace and negotiation wherever he can. He falls so easily into the "big brother" role and gives so much of himself to his brothers without hesitation.

He knows the clones' lot in life and instead of fighting against the inevitable, he puts his strength into fighting for his brothers. The songs I chose (it wasn't an easy choice lol) ended up having a common thread of fighting on despite knowing you'll never have a place in history or be remembered like you should. Because I love to make myself sad about Cody.

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Started out seeking fortune and glory It's a short song, but it's a hell of a story When you spend your lifetime Trying to get your hands on the holy grail ... I followed orders, God knows where I’ve been But I woke up alone, all my wounds were clean I’m still here I’m still a fool for the holy grail

Shelter - Porter Robinson

When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you I know words won't be enough And they won't need to know our names or our faces But they will carry on for us ... And it's a long way forward, so trust in me I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me

Way Out There - Lord Huron

I'm a long way from the land that I left I've been running through life and cruising toward death If you think that I'm scared, you've got me wrong If you don't know my name, you know it now I belong bodily to the earth I’m just wearing old bones from those who came first There are many more flames when mine is gone They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Fox:

Okay I've never really been a Fox girlie but the more I think about him the more I do love exploring his whole deal with being closest to the Chancellor during the war.

Typhoons - Royal Blood

These songs ended up being incredibly angsty and mostly about having your own mind turned against you, inspired by the idea that Fox always had his inhibitor chip slightly active to keep him compliant with Palpatine's orders. Especially when Fox's own free will ran explicitly counter to what he was ordered to do - i.e. shooting down his own brother. I still haven't forgiven him for Fives

The last song is actually about the US, it was released in 2020 about Trump's presidency, but oddly enough I think it fits pretty well in this scenario too lol...

Flashbacks, I’m not letting go Tear me up, cast a shadow I got game face, but it’s all for show Can’t give it up, blow my cover ... My thoughts becoming parasites They live to keep me terrified I tell myself I’ll be alright Typhoons keep on raging, and I don’t know why

Uprising - Muse

Paranoia is in bloom The PR transmissions will resume They’ll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down And hope that we will never see the truth around Another promise, another scene Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed And all the green belts wrapped around our minds And endless red tape to keep the truth confined

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

I can feel my brain a-changin’, acclimating to the madness I can feel my ourrage shifting into a dull, despondent sadness I can feel a crust growing over my eyes like a falcon hood I’ve got the normalisation blues This isn’t normal, this isn’t good I’m detached and I’m distracted, all keyed up but unproductive Vacillating between being all excited and disgusted And then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I’ve made my mental home Connection’s more important now than it ever was, but I’d rather be alone

[odinsblog]

Tankies be tripping like a mf

Sometimes I see tankies posting their usual bullshit and I’m just endlessly smh hard enough to cause myself brain damage

I could, if I wanted, make a dozen social media accounts across various platforms and proceed to talk as much shit about Joe Biden or Donald Trump as I want. I could do that 24/7/365, all day, every day and every night, and do nothing else but that. I mean, I could talk straight up bullshit about either of them or both of them, and their spouses and their families, and as long as I don’t make any threats against their lives, guess what would happen to me?? NOTHING. Not a goddamn thing

I know this for a fact because I’ve done it (talk shit about them, not make troll accounts), and I see people do it every fucking day

Meanwhile, in “glorious” communist countries™ like Russia or China or North Korea, if anyone dares to publicly say anything even slightly unflattering about those country’s leaders, they will be punished, arrested, jailed, disappeared or murdered. And God forbid if you’re an actual journalist or dissident or a political activist trying to speak out against Putin, or Kim Jong Un, or Xi Jinping — your corpse will never be found (except maybe for Russia, where you would either “accidentally” fall out of a window, or “accidentally” ingest a rare but deadly radioactive material) ☢️ 🙃

Look, this isn’t me going, “America is soooo great and everywhere else sucks,” because as a Black man living in America, I’m well aware of how thoroughly anti Blackness is weaved into our society, and as someone who has LGBTQ loved ones, I am also aware of how homophobia and transphobia are also woven into American culture. So no, America was never great. But anti Blackness, homophobia, and transphobia exist everyfuckingwhere. And yes, that most definitely includes the tankie fantasyland utopias of Russia, China and North Korea

Anyway, I’m just blowing off some online steam because every time I see a tankie profess how communism™ will make everything equal and just sO much better, and how Russia, China and North fucking Korea! are heavens for love peace + equality, every fucking time I see that BULLSHIT on tumblrdotcom I wanna pull my teeth out with a rusty pair of pliers 🤬

I just do not get it

Only tankies could look at murderous dictatorial authoritarian regimes and go, yeah that seems much better

LOL, I could almost overlook Russia and China, but when I see tankies defending N. Korea?? I’m like, that mf is farther gone than the Voyager space probes

SN: I know that despite their political party names, Russia and China aren’t really “communist” countries, but I often wonder if tankies understand that fact

And please don’t get me started on the allegedly “pro-Black” tankies who stayed on mute about Brittney Griner, because I guess saying anything would have made Putin look bad 😒

I mean don’t get me wrong, I dO understand that capitalism has utterly failed people so thoroughly and so fucking completely that literally anything else might seem preferable by comparison, but ☭ ain’t it, fam

To be crystal clear: I hate capitalism as much as the next compassionate human being and I know capitalism ain’t it, but neither is communism, sorry

I genuinely do believe that a better world is possible, but seeing people (surprise - disproportionately white dudes) constantly blathering on and on about how good Russia is, makes me feel like 🤮

[quillyfied]

HEY GANG SO UH. Watched the episode twice, have absorbed a lot of fan speculation, and I think I’m ready to word vomit some gosh darned reactions. This episode spared my plot-side brain for the most part, which means the absolutely feral interpersonal character side FEASTED. Might have to rewatch the episode a third time to keep my brain on track so I’m not running all over the place like an overexcited chihuahua, oh no what a nightmare.

CALLED IT, SHORT ROBE IS APOLOGY TOUR AND FUCKING HATE SEX ENERGY OFF THE CHARTS. Also side note but can I live in Stolas’ backyard?? Also also GOSH HECK but the energy of this argument is just. It’s good? It’s so good, I love Stolas’ deadpan sassy energy, but also the genuine blows that land during this argument are so goddamn painful. Stolas insisting he’s uncomfortable and wants Blitzo to go: valid, fair, proud of him for voicing that. I just hate that that’s what it’s taking to really drive the point home that right now, despite everything else between them that they need to talk about, Blitzo is being the asshole for that, and establishing once again that Blitzo ignoring boundaries is one of his character flaws; luckily, this EXACT episode is also where we get to see him starting to acknowledge that he doesn’t like who he is and how he acts and wants to be different. But for the beginning of this episode especially, just in case we the audience forgot that Blitzo is an absolute asshole, we have to tee up how much of an asshole he can really be when he’s hurt and angry.

“I want to feel like I’m EARNING my way to Earth” Can we unpack that? Can we sit here for a goddamn second and unpack that??? Hang on have to peel my head out of my hands first because holy shit Blitzo. There are layers to that statement, to that sentiment. There’s the lack of self-worth and needing to be a self-made imp, and if his rich fuckbuddy just GIVES him this crystal without having Blitzo earn it in some way, he doesn’t deserve it and he doesn’t deserve his business. There’s the fact that Blitzo does want Stolas but this is the safest way for him to express that without being vulnerable. There’s the bid to return to the status quo, accompanied by “we don’t do words, we do sex.” There’s discomfort there, both with having the crystal no strings attached and with how things are between him and Stolas. It’s a lot.

So, small detour: I’ve been watching the Danny Motta reacts videos (not for everyone but I like them a lot) for the Hellaverse, and in his “I Was Wrong About Blitzo” livestream VOD from a few days ago, he says something about abuse victims and how they react to fights that’s kinda stuck with me when it comes to this episode. BIG disclaimer that I am not qualified or trained to talk about abusive relationships, I’m just repeating what I heard to make a point, and if this is wrong information, I would actually love to know that so I can fix it. Anyway. Paraphrasing, he said that a lot of abuse victims will get into a fight with their abusers and after the fact dismiss it as “oh, we were just angry” to try and rob the fight of its hurtful power as a coping mechanism, which can become maladaptive when in non-abusive relationships, because the abuse victim will be confused as to why they have to talk about something they’ve already written off as over and done and meaningless. Danny Motta applies this to the “Y?” text that Blitzo sends Stolas when Stolas asks if they need to talk about what happened at Ozzie’s, and now I’m applying it here to Blitzo saying “we just had a bad night.” This entire dynamic is happening because Blitzo’s damage and Stolas’ damage are crashing into each other head-on, and watching the pieces crumble is really cathartic in a way. This entire set of episodes where their Arrangement (shoutout to my GOmens girlies) falls apart is so painful but so necessary, because if the show is wanting to take Blitzo and Stolas to a place where they can both be better, not just for each other but for themselves and for what’s coming up in their lives very soon, there has to be the breakdown first.

Like Stolas being apathetic towards Blitzo’s fucky dirty talk, which puts Blitzo on the back foot. Frankly I’m waiting for an argument where they go “but I thought you LIKED when I—” “I cannot stand when you do that, I was faking it,” mainly bc I find that sort of argument very funny, but this might not be the place for one of those (and I can’t decide what I like more, Blitzo being honest about not being into Stolas’ dirty talk or Blitzo being honest about being REALLY into Stolas’ dirty talk, both sound plausible, but we have to get through this emotional hashing out first). ANYWAY. THE POINT. The point is that as much as these arguments and discussions hurt, they’re important. They’re clearing the air, getting the bullshit out from between them. And again, so much kudos and love for Stolas for being more vocal with his boundaries. Blitzo ignoring them is what he does, we know that, I’ve already said it once in this egregious mess of an essay, but it’s funny how in ignoring Stolas’ boundaries, he’s also getting his own pushed and broken—VERY NECESSARY, actually. Blitzo can’t be honest unless it’s being forced out of him somehow, and it’s Blitzo who’s heading the charge into crashing right through his own walls by refusing to back down from this fight.

There’s something really interesting too in the fact that we KNOW Blitzo knows he hates himself and doesn’t think he’s worthy of care, but he still has this very convincing, very loud bravado about his own sexual prowess. He’s very confident in himself as a lover. As a boyfriend, however…nah, he’s good, actually let him deflect immediately back to sex, which is easier and less emotional. It’s a nice complex touch for him. Like, the “love ‘em and leave ‘em” trope can get kinda tired, especially when there’s a string of vengeful exes behind it, but in a lot of ways it feels good for this to be another facet to Blitzo, if only because it’s accompanied by the fact that this character trait is often born from trauma and has more happening with it than is often explored in fluffier fiction. That’s not something I often see in comedies, actually.

BUT THAT CLAPBACK FROM STOLAS. “Oh, yes, relationships are boring…so what are you doing here, then?” BAM. YOU WANT POETRY, STOLS? BC YOU’RE PROVIDING. Goddamn. I love that owl man. Anyway. Blitzo immediately offering angry sex being the thing that pushes the next nugget of truth is AMAZING. Because first of all, Blitzo still being horny for Stolas but deflecting it as trying to prove that Stolas is horny for Blitzo, especially when they’re fighting, is just a delightfully twisty detail. Second, it’s digging into WHY Blitzo called Stolas a “rich pompous asshole,” giving Stolas context for that comment and further finally touching on how Blitzo has very real class disadvantage between them while also holding that against Stolas a little unfairly (comparing him to Striker is such a good move, because BLITZO HIMSELF has already realized that if he and Striker think alike on that subject…ew, that doesn’t feel good). On a wider class-based discrimination scale, Blitzo has every right to be suspicious and dismissive of Stolas’ wealth and station and the ways Stolas is socially and physically above him. On a more personal scale, it’s delicious to watch that crash head-on with the fact that Stolas has been TRYING SO HARD and SO PUBLICLY to get close to Blitzo, to make him happy, to spend some FUCKING time with him, and Stolas hasn’t been using his privilege in that way at all when it comes to Blitzo. The deal for the book was one they agreed on MUTUALLY; Stolas never withheld it from him even when things were uncertain after Ozzie’s. Stolas has bigotry and internalized misconceptions that he has to work on (and might even get to work on on-screen, if the trial episode goes how I think it will), but I think it means so much that Blitzo gets to HEAR that Stolas really doesn’t think he’s above Blitzo, that he doesn’t have a kink for getting dicked down by a rugged peasant, that Stolas doesn’t look down on Blitzo for being an imp the way Blitzo has needed to convince himself that Stolas does. THE GIRLIES ARE TALKING OKAY.

AND I CANNOT BELIEVE WITH MY OWN TWO EYES AND EARS THAT WE GOT AN ON-SCREEN CONFIRMATION THAT STOLAS HAD NO IDEA ABOUT THE HARVEST MOON ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT. I cannot believe it. I canNOT believe it. Holy crap the cows are coming home to roost and I think I got that saying wrong but I will not be changing it. If there’s any grander plot information in this episode, it would be this: Stolas learning of the first assassination attempt. If he gets the chance to think on that further beyond just the hurt that Blitzo never told him, he knows that Stella sent Striker the first time; it wouldn’t be a difficult logical leap to think Stella sent him the first time, too, and what that means, especially vis-à-vis divorce proceedings. Which now makes me wonder if there’s demonic law precedent for spousal assassinations being totally legal if infidelity is a factor. Did they have a prenup and can I see it please XD It might be the only leg Stolas has to stand on to defend himself legally, the fact that Stella hired an assassin to kill him TWICE. The abuse he endured is real, but there’s no way to prove it. There certainly are ways to definitively prove that Stella hired an assassin. The “Stolas and IMP are in deep legal shit” theory is more widespread than I thought, by the by, I NEED to get it condensed into one post before October.

ANYWAY.

I kinda hope that Blitzo gets to tell Stolas the things he’s said that have reinforced to Blitzo the idea that Stolas looks down on him, because that is one of the biggest legs that Blitzo has to stand on in this particular argument and I don’t much like the idea of it being taken out from under him because it’s chalked up to Blitzo’s own preexisting prejudice against royal demons. Because Stolas HAS made mistakes on that front, and while this episode is way more about the ways Blitzo screws up and wants to change, Stolas not being totally innocent in this breakup has been one of the key points of Full Moon and one the creator herself has confirmed. And Stolas getting to hear the ways he hurt Blitzo and getting to apologize and change would be SO HUGE, okay?? If this show isn’t gonna tackle the social issues it’s drawing on for drama and comedy alike, if it’s not going to meaningfully solve them Hell-wide, then can we at least solve them between Blitzo and Stolas? Like? Please???

Also. Way to make me a liar, Stolas, being all pissy that Blitzo didn’t come help you with Striker :P I do think that if Blitzo asserted that he was helping Loona and that was more important, it would have taken the conversation somewhere else, but this conversation wasn’t really about that anyway. It’s about how Blitzo and Stolas both truly did not think Stolas could get physically hurt, but in Blitzo’s case it just reinforced his belief in Stolas’ station above him, and in Stolas’ case it played into his romantic story fantasies of playing the damsel in distress without any real stakes. And this conversation is about Stolas being hurt at learning more in depth what Blitzo has been thinking and believing about him all this time, understanding where Blitzo’s coming from. Because Stolas got to spill his guts on Full Moon. It’s Blitzo’s turn. Once Stolas makes one more FUCKING thing clear, things that Blitzo would certainly have seen: how much Blitzo’s idea that Stolas is some uppity prince falls apart when you take Stolas’ very public affection into consideration. And I love Stolas for acknowledging that Blitzo doesn’t owe him anything, but what I so often don’t hear when people say “you don’t owe people shit” is what Stolas says, which is “you can’t just ignore all that.” Listen. Each situation is going to be different. But Stolas is 5000% correct in that his actions have been speaking pretty fucking loudly about where his feelings are, even if his words and the trappings of his station have fallen short (and don’t think that excuses Stolas for still not realizing the hypocrisy of sleeping with an imp even as he has imp servants whom he doesn’t necessarily always mistreat but doesn’t regard either). Blitzo doesn’t owe him love or sex or anything for Stolas offering these things, but even a “no fuck off” is acknowledging that Stolas is trying, that he fucking EXISTS. FUCK.

I know that there is some queer community banter about reclaiming slurs via jokes and memes, but I really do have to wonder what Blitzo’s goal was in both sending Stolas a bunch of “I smell a homosexual” horse memes and then here when he dismisses what Stolas is saying by calling it “the gayest thing he’s ever heard.” I, uh. Am not the target audience for that, I think? At the very least I don’t understand it beyond the tone and knowing that Blitzo is being mean with his words, but probably not the memes. Gonna have to wait for the discourse on that one, I guess. Also was animating that amount of spittle ABSOLUTELY necessary (I think maybe it was).

I also love how Stolas accidentally reverse-psychologies Blitzo into doing a whole apology tour, though. Because that is some classic “duck season/rabbit season” loony tunes shit. “I bet you’ve never apologized in your life” “FUCK YOU I’M THE BEST AT APOLOGIES I CAN APOLOGIZE SO HARD.” And I love that it’s BLITZO that finally says the quiet part out loud, who puts all the pieces together and lays it out nice and simple: he self-sabotages because he hates himself and doesn’t think he’s worthy of anyone’s love so he drives people away before they can care about him. He knows this about himself. He hates this about himself, too, but it keeps him safe. Except it’s not working now. He doesn’t want this, but it’s hard. Even when he’s screaming at Stolas that he can apologize to everyone so good, everyone BUT Stolas, he’s on the verge of tears, he’s shaking from anger, he’s seconds from melting down. He sees what he’s doing. He can’t stop himself from doing it.

But first, he has to uphold his pride and give a bunch of bullshit apologies with surprisingly thoughtful cheese and hot sauce baskets. Let’s watch the imp at work, shall we?

Because godDAMN this is a good comedy segment actually. Such a funny romp through all of Blitzo’s season 1 escapades (AND HOLY SHIT GET IT MRS. MAYBERRY, THAT’S THE FUNNIEST TWIST, HAPPY PRIDE EVERYONE). (Side note, how does Blitzo know where Martha lives? And he remembered her NAME, what the fuck. Does he actually keep tabs on former hits that wind up in Hell just so he can know to avoid them??). Don’t think I missed that Moxxie was on the top of that list, followed by the annoying kid from the pilot. And we go through season 1 almost perfectly: Martha from e1, Loo-Loo from e2, CHERUB from e4 (love the non-apology, keep that enmity alive), DHORKS from e6, HE FUCKING THROWS A BASKET INTO THE LOCKED UP FORMER DHORKS COMPOUND FULL OF ROTTING CORPSES, I HOWLED, the hot bouncer from e7. But interspersing all of that with the texts to Stolas he can’t send?? Fucking. OW.

THE GODDAMN FIZZBOT’S FACE ACTIVATED FUCK NO

Okay but WHY don’t I see more art of Blitzo in drag or in pretty dresses?? Canonically he’s been in more of them XD (listen I agree Stolas is so goddamn pretty and deserves to be in all the dresses but let’s throw Blitzo some love here once in a while)

“Looks like you missed some makeup there.” “Thanks, it’s my face.” I just. I need to lie down. I love Blitzo. He hasn’t even started the googly-eyes yet and I love him so much.

Oh, Stolas. I’ve never been to a house party like this and I don’t ever plan to, but I’ve been to enough social functions to know very well the feeling of sticking to a wall because you’re uncomfortable. I love that Verosika does her best to include him, too, welcomes him into this community she’s created. Also wait how the FUCK does everyone know Blitzo and Stolas broke up?? (Blaming a Fizz to Verosika pipeline somehow)

The demonic sacrifice to Stolas scene is so screamingly funny. It’s SO FUCKING FUNNY. I think it’s more funny because, like a lot of the gags in Full Moon, it’s a return of some of that s1 humor that I hadn’t really noticed was missing until it was suddenly back. We can thank Danny Motta for bringing that to my attention, too, but eh. I’m not bothered by it.

I also love that Stolas isn’t entirely comfortable being surrounded by evidence of people wanting to hurt Blitzo (through cathartic alternate means, anyway, though they are literal demons, so maybe in the actual way too). And later on, I love how it’s clear that most of these people don’t really want to hurt Blitzo, either, they’re just hurt themselves. Verosika is picking the pettiest method possible, but she’s doing a good thing here, making a support group for people in emotional distress.

Blitzo you don’t need to start keeping count, you need to start getting tested, because I’m legitimately worried for you. This isn’t slut shaming, this is just good health practices when you’ve fucked enough people to fill a mansion. What the fuck. This is JUST the hellborn population of exes, I imagine if we include sinners the number might be higher. Alright but also Dennis’ presence means he hasn’t actually actively fucked all the people here, right?? Right???? Anyway. It’s the fact that he remembers most if not all of them, too, enough to make specific apologies about things he did to them as he’s walking through them.

LEAVE DENNIS ALONE, HE DID NOTHING WRONG.

Stolas’ song. CHILLS. CHIIIIIILLS. I legit did not recognize Bryce’s voice during that, it’s so different from everything he’s sung before. But it’s so good. It’s EXACTLY what I thought it was going to be, too: not a tear-down anthem, not a belated defense, just Stolas singing about his pain. People who mistakenly think Stolas was shitting on Blitzo during this song can step up because I am very prepared to tell you how wrong you are. Someone in the tags had it right, this episode was practically spoonfeeding us all the subtext most of us had already guessed about the situation and characters, and yet people still didn’t get it. Sad. Anyway. The song. This beautiful anthem to the fuckedness of Stolas and Blitzo’s situation, and opening Blitzo’s eyes further to how his coping mechanisms to not get hurt in turn hurt Stolas pretty deeply. And just. Gosh hecking fucking darn, “I’m not a thief, you were mine to earn, but what if I came on too strong, what if I read this all wrong” FUCK. AND THEN THAT KID MONTAGE. RIGHT THERE. IN THE SAD FADEOUT AT THE END OF THE SONG. I JUST. I. HHHHHHHHHHHHH.

And then we come to the drunk conversation. Which. Again, on brand, doubtful that it would be these two trainwrecks if something weird wasn’t happening, but it’s so funny to us the audience to hear Blitzo make a comment about never seeing Stolas put it away like that before when we know that poor bird downs absinthe like it’s Gatorade when he’s upset. But. Even as they’re in a bad emotional place, even as they’re trying to clear the air, the casual intimacy and comfort they have around each other is really sweet. Wouldn’t be happening if Stolas wasn’t drunk, but still. Watching Blitzo take care of Stolas is always sweet. He just does it so deftly, like it’s second nature, that watching Blitzo fidget and hesitate to touch Stolas hurts all the more for knowing that he didn’t hesitate at all to catch Stolas when he was falling. I’m hoping it’s portents of what’s to come, in time, when they’ve both worked on themselves a bit. Or at least had a full clearing of the air. They get a good way into it this time, with Blitzo reiterating how he’s felt about Stolas and how inferior he feels and unlovable, and how much Stolas just wants to be cared about (with the implication that Blitzo didn’t make him feel that way), but that’s not the last conversation they need to have. The last one, I think, is when Blitzo will be able to admit out loud that even with all the shitty behavior and the casual classism and the fights and the apologies…he loves Stolas. He cares. He cares so much. And he’s so scared. Blitzo knows it. It’s the saying it that’s hard.

“Stolas, that’s…a rom-com.” He doesn’t even sound dismissive, he just sounds sad. Blitzo is so SAD that that’s what Stolas wants, because Blitzo doesn’t DO stuff like that, it’s not real, it’s cheesy and unrealistic and by Satan and Lucifer and Ozzie and whoever else I have to swear by, if we don’t get Blitzo pulling classic cheesy romcom moves in an attempt to really make Stolas feel special I’m going to TEAR MY HAIR OUT (and then write the fanfic). GIVE THE IMP A BOOM BOX.

But the way Stolas just stares at Blitzo, waiting for his input before he accepts the dance invitation from “Better Than Blitzo” Guy. The way Blitzo LETS HIM GO. I HATE IT BUT I LOVE IT AND IT HAD TO HAPPEN BUT IT HURTS.

AND NOW THE PART I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR MOST: BLITZO TALKING TO VEROSIKA. YEEEE

I love that it starts…kind of typical? Like, Blitzo went up there pretty quiet and reserved, calls her Ver (!!!!!!!), but once the back-and-forth very bitter arguing starts between them, he gets this grin on his face, like he’s glad to be back somewhere familiar. Before her lack of reaction just pokes that bear that’s been under his surface all day and he starts breaking down—the exact kind of breakdown he needs, the emotional one, the verbal five-gallon vomit of what’s actually inside of him and not just the bullshit he spews on the daily to distract others and protect himself. And it’s such a key piece of the Verosika puzzle, too, because this is how it went: Verosika said “I love you.” And Blitzo stole her car, left her to cover the hotel bill, ran three rings to Wrath, and maxed out her credit cards on shitty horse-riding lessons. Like. Wow. What the fuck, Blitzo. Which, given how catastrophically he felt he had to fuck that up…probably meant he loved her, too. Or even if he didn’t, even if he cared but didn’t care as much as she did, the fact that THAT’S what he did, rather than just ghosting her or breaking up over text or anything else a normal level of shitty? Like, what the fuck, Blitzo, I know you’re a trained clown and assassin but that’s brutal. And it’s an extreme example of how Blitzo responds to others being vulnerable by doing everything he can to cover up his own vulnerability, but between that and Blitzo thinking Stolas telling Blitzo he cares and wants Blitzo to stay is a new kind of sexual roleplay Stolas wants to try out…Blitzo doesn’t do measured responses. If there’s this many people still hurt by what he did to them and most of them were probably singular hookups, it really sheds some perspective on the scope of the problem. And the depth of what Blitzo means when he says he doesn’t want to be this way anymore.

“Why am I the bad guy just for sucking at relationships?” Look dude there’s sucking at relationships, and then there’s becoming a toxic black hole of self-hatred and self-destruction that takes out an entire city block with it when it detonates. And what Verosika says, too, how somehow she still feels bad for hating him—like HOOOOOLY SHIT. Paired up with Stolas pointing out that this many people wouldn’t hate Blitzo if they hadn’t cared about him so much first. Blitzo could RULE HELL if he could figure out how to properly weaponize that charisma XD On a more serious note, though, I think the examples are extreme partially because this is a comedy show and there is something very darkly funny about Blitzo’s nuclear response to affection, but also because if this show has been trying to do anything, it’s been exploring the depths of self-hatred and how that destroys everything around it, and if there’s one thing cartoons in particular are supposed to do, it’s exaggerate. The story is real. The details are fucked, but the feelings behind the story is so real. Verosika’s response is disproportionate but her pain is real. Stolas’ ballad is dramatic but his emotions are real. Blitzo’s trauma response is improbably destructive but the roots are real. Stories aren’t real; the emotions are. It’s what makes them meaningful.

Okay y’know every other time Viv has done the tongue thing, it’s read as really comedic to me, but this one was just…hot? Even with Blitzo’s world crumbling around him (TAKE THAT ASSHAT), with this new spike of jealousy in his chest, it’s really good to see Stolas getting to experience being wanted by people who aren’t Blitzo and KNOWING it. He’s wanted. He’s hot. People enjoy him and his company. GIVE HIM FRIENDS NEXT, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Giving Verosika some kind of closure about them, though. I imagine it’s pretty nice for her to see Blitzo so messed up emotionally, even if it isn’t over her, and to get a genuine apology from him. Like her song says, she’s not over it, but she’s over him, and she’s made a community of people to support each other and have fun, and that’s amazing, actually. Charlie would be so proud.

And, like. Verosika so gently telling Blitzo that it starts with sorry saying good for Stolas, hope he gets some dick…Blitzo was kinda already there, with letting Stolas go to go dance with the guy. But it feels healthier? Less “he said he doesn’t want me here because seeing me makes him feel bad, I make him feel bad, I shouldn’t touch him or burden him with my feelings because I’m not worth it”, more “he deserves this, he deserves to be happy with someone who isn’t afraid to show him how much he’s worth, I hope he’s happy.” There’s hope for him yet, folks. Good job, Blitzo. Nurse that broken heart and lay on that horn all you want to, babe, you did a good job. Let’s keep that momentum going. (Like to be clear he’s still very much feeling bad for how badly he treated everyone at that party as he’s walking out, but. There’s something about it that feels better, I can’t describe it. Less toxic and blaming everyone else, more cleanly miserable because he owns it’s his fault and he’s gonna try to change once he stops crying.)

Now to do what I’d be doing anyway this summer and wait for October, only this time I also get to wait for a new episode too!

[silvercap]

Day 18- Prompt: 'Ache'

Resident Evil, implied Leon/Chris, concussion, held at gunpoint. Enjoy! (1101 words)

Leon’s back is starting to ache. Which makes sense, considering he’s nearing forty and been thrown against so many walls by giant BOWs he’s honestly impressed it’s held out this long without issue. There’s been plenty of foreshadowing—his twenties had been the start of it all, and he’s been anticipating the day when he turns into an old man with a cranky spine, he just hadn’t realized it would be so constant. Every time he bends down to pick something up, it’s like his muscles all spontaneously spasm at once, painful twinges racing up his back like flames. Every time he mistimes a jump or backflip. Every time he runs too hard without properly warming up.

And even now it aches, while he’s staring across the dingy laboratory floor at Chris’s dismayed expression, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed firmly into the side of his skull.

“I’m sick of you fake ‘anti-terror’ fascists!” the guy behind him is shouting, his arm wrapped punishingly tight around Leon’s throat and collarbones. “I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll blow his brains across the goddamn wall!”

Leon winces when the gun barrel digs deeper into his scalp, the sticky dampness of drying blood still itching on his forehead. The guy had gotten him good with an ambush attack, leaping out from a closet when Leon had turned to say some stupid joke to Chris, slamming the butt of his pistol into Leon’s brow so hard he’d seen stars. He still feels dazed from it, a previous hit from a BOW accentuating the impact to give him one hell of a concussion. Leon tries to shift, wanting to relieve some of the pressure on his back from the awkward position, but the guy clearly isn’t taking any chances. He smacks the magazine of his gun into the skin just above Leon’s ear in a quick movement, the world immediately going a fraction more out of focus. Leon holds back a wave of nausea. His ears are ringing, and it’s starting to set in how bad this actually is.

“Don’t fucking move!” he hisses in Leon’s ear, and Leon can hear the panic in his voice. If not for the spiking agony assaulting his head, he’d have thrown this guy to the floor and broken his arm several times over, but he doesn’t want to risk screwing the maneuver up. Hand-to-hand with a gunman is risky at the best of times, and he can’t give him any opportunity to turn his aggression towards Chris, a mere ten feet away.

Leon’s head aches again, a pulsing flare of pain that forces a groan from his lips. Chris growls distantly.

“Put him down. You’re not going to achieve anything with a hostage, alright? He’s not with the BSAA, he’s—”

“Fucking government, I know. One of the assholes responsible for destroying my life! You all think you can just lord over everyone with your stupid anti-terror task forces, but it goes against all my rights as an American citizen!” The man is enraged now, gesturing sharply and forcing Leon to stumble around in his hold like a drunkard. He’s pretty sure if he stood still, the guy would be too weak to actually make him do anything, but his balance is still off and he’s practically clinging to his arm to keep himself upright. There’s some kind of irony there, Leon’s sure, but he doesn’t have the ability to think about it without his skull feeling like it’s about to explode. His knees feel like jelly. He wants nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep, but then Chris will get worried and make him visit the infirmary or something. He hates hospitals, especially the BSAA ones. They’ll want to take his blood and make him sit for endless tests. Not to mention the paperwork. The mere thought of it makes his head spin.

“---talk about this,” Chris is saying, and Leon blinks his blurry vision back into focus. Huh. When had he zoned out? He struggles to pay more attention to the conversation, but Chris’s voice is starting to sound like it’s coming from underwater and his face doesn’t look quite right. Kind of… off-centre. Leon realizes his head is starting to sag, correcting his posture with a quick movement that pushes him back against the gun’s mouth and sends blazing agony through his neck. Ugh… he might throw up. The angry man jostles him for the thousandth time.

“No!” His voice is the loudest thing Leon’s ever heard, ringing and aching through his eardrums over the high-pitched buzz that refuses to leave. “The time for talking is over! I need—”

The man jerks backwards, something hot and thick splattering the side of Leon’s face, and suddenly it’s like he’s a puppet cut from its strings. He collapses, reality fading away until he comes to on his back, Chris’s face hovering over him. There’s a cut on his cheek and Leon frowns, reaching up to wipe it away. His hand is strangely clumsy and he’s pretty sure it hits Chris harder than he’d intended, but Leon feels too dazed to give it much thought. Chris looks worried. A warm hand brushes the side of Leon’s face, pushing his bangs to the side, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, he wishes everything would stop spinning for a second. His head hurts.

"Stay with me, Leon," Chris murmurs from a distance, and Leon groans as his body is lifted, nausea swimming in his throat as his equilibrium tilts dangerously. He flicks his eyes open for a moment, bright lights swirling above him like psychedelic fireworks. He's moving? Wasn't there something important he was just doing? His hands are limp in his lap, fingers oddly numb. They don't even look like they belong to him.

"The guy?" he slurs out, not even sure what he's asking.

"Dead," Chris promises, face at once too close and far away. His eyes are so dark in this lighting. "Sniper took care of him. Keep your eyes open, Leon."

Leon didn't realize he'd closed them. He shifts, pressing his forehead into Chris's shoulder with a weak sound of protest. His neck aches like he's been slammed into cement by a tyrant, and he lets it swallow him, the comforting release of darkness hovering in the corners of his vision like a vulture on a battlefield. The last thing he hears is Chris's voice, promising that everything will be okay; Leon just has to hang in there.

He really needs to visit a chiropractor soon. His back hurts.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (52)

part 52 of 55 | 1894 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

It’s been three days since Steve told Robin about the blackmail, and Eddie is a goddamn wreck. 

This is a mean place to leave off, but the next chapter goes up on Monday. In the meantime, enjoy your Friday the 13th. ❤️

52.

It’s been three days since Steve told Robin about the blackmail, and Eddie is a goddamn wreck. 

Spring Break had left him with plenty of physical damage—scars that start on his left cheek and continue down to his thighs, deepest near his middle where he’d almost been eviscerated, and on bad days he still has a trace of a limp. 

There’s non-physical stuff too. Nightmares. He now has first hand experience with going to war against and being eaten alive by literal monsters, after all. And there’s Chrissy. . . . Always Chrissy. Those few but terrifying days had shattered his long-held beliefs in the difference between real life and fiction without any pause to let him pick up the pieces. What a mindfuck.

He still has nightmares, even with Steve in bed beside him; they both do. The comedown is easier together than alone, but it still happens. What surprises Eddie, though, is that his are about familiar things made horrifyingly unfamiliar. Running from the cops or angry jocks, for example, now supercharged with the cops pumping him full of lead and the jocks pummeling him to death, or coming at him with knives and stabbing out his entrails. Yeah, the bats and the blood and the fucking vines everywhere are in the mix too, but they’re horror movie props. They’re the spectators, the window dressing, even though every bullet or blow or knife feels like it has teeth.

Everything from Spring Break happened so fast, is the thing—even though the essence of it all is seared into his brain, his dreams never get the details quite right. All that Upside Down shit feels less real in the light of day, and like maybe he went crazy and imagined all of it. Sometimes the only way to make sure is to ask Steve, or Dustin, or any of his new monster hunting friends.

Worst by far, somehow, are the nightmares where those friends, the only people in this shitty town who had been right there in the trenches with him when public opinion screamed for his head on a pike, just . . . lose interest in him. Where they lose touch, slip through his fingers, and all he’s got to show from knowing them is a mangled torso and a tendency to jump at shadows. 

Lately, he’s been dreaming that Robin, the first fellow queer friend he’d knowingly made in this hellhole town, is the first to turn away from him, and he can’t even blame her.

“She’s making me sweat it out on purpose,” he groans, face-down on the floor in Jeff’s temporary room at his aunt’s house. It smells like dust and old cigarettes down there, but he figures it’s what he deserves. 

“Dude, you blackmailed her best friend,” Jeff points out. Unhelpfully, in Eddie’s opinion. “Not very well, but still. If someone pulled that shit on you I’d be out there slashing tires and egging their house.”

“You’re such a comfort,” Eddie mutters into the carpet. “I’m so glad I come to you with my problems.”

He can practically hear Jeff rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I am. She might be messing with you, but at least she’s not fucking with any of your shit. I know you consider the silent treatment to be the most hideous form of torture—”

Face still hidden, Eddie winces. Because Jeff’s not wrong, but Steve and Robin have been actually tortured for information by evil Russians and he’s a total wimp in comparison. 

“—But it could be a lot worse.”

It could be. He knows that. And Steve keeps assuring him that everything’s fine, that he talked it out with Robin and she’s calmed down by now. Eddie nods along but keeps gnawing his nails down to the quick anyway, because that’s with Steve. She’s fine with Steve, calm with Steve, and still her schedule has casually omitted running into Eddie in any way. As far as he’s concerned speaks for itself.

And it doesn’t help when he tells Jeff about telling Steve about telling Jeff—which, okay, fine, it sounds stupid when put like that—his best friend had rolled his eyes and said, “Really Ed? You only just now thought to mention it?”

One more thing for Robin to rip his head off over. And Steve probably won’t pick him over her, which makes Eddie want to crumble to dust. 

Well. He doesn’t think Steve should pick him over Robin. The actual ‘he picks me, he picks me not’ shit is something his guesses seesaw back and forth on all the time. 

The world hadn't stopped for the apocalypse, let alone Eddie nearly dying or Eddie freaking out. Thatcher Tire doesn’t want him back after the murder charges and the government payout won’t last forever, so he’s spent the entire day going from storefront to storefront in what passes for downtown Hawkins.

He knows that Steve is working at Family Video today, because he’d pried himself out of bed and Eddie’s starfish grip that morning for that very reason. He also knows that Robin isn’t on the schedule today, because he’s thought to ask before dozing back off for a few hours. So he feels no hesitation before sailing into the video rental store from the deserted parking lot and announcing with a flourish, “You are looking at Melvald’s newest stock boy, courtesy of one benevolent Joyce Byers!”

It comes out as a weird mix of triumphant and resigned, falling flat in the still air of Family Video. Because yeah, he has a job, but it came at the heels of a series of rejections and feels like a pity offer. Does it count as nepotism if it comes from the matriarch of their weird little unofficial monster-hunting family?

When his declaration goes unanswered, Eddie takes a moment to really take in his surroundings. He’d expected no one else to be in the store, and there isn’t; but it isn’t Steve behind the counter.

It’s Robin. 

The door has already closed behind him, cutting off the easiest escape route. He could open it again, but that would be going out of his way to run from danger, something he’s promised himself he won’t do anymore. And . . . Steve had sworn up and down to him that everything’s fine. 

The deliberately blank look on Robin’s face suggests that Steve was incorrect.

Eddie moves forward by sheer force of momentum, jamming his hands in his jeans pockets and clearing his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Robin replies, in a tone that implies that the rest of that sentence is ‘and welcome to Family Video, where the theater comes to your living room,’** or whatever corporate bullshit she and Steve might technically be required to say but never actually do. Eddie’s heard her customer service voice before, but never directed at him. He almost trips over his own feet hearing it now. 

“So. . . .” Eddie usually prides himself on knowing what to say, or at least being able to vamp for time and posture a lot until he figures it out. To have it happen with someone he knows well is absolutely excruciating. 

A tiny part of him worries that Steve had set him up for this, faked having work today or something to force this meeting and get it over with. But Steve wouldn’t do that.

Right?

“Is Steve around?” he asks finally, aware that the silence has been dragging and Robin, unusually, is making no attempt to put it out of its misery.

She narrows her eyes and jerks a thumb over one shoulder towards the door marked Employees Only. 

So, okay, Steve is probably on break and Eddie had just misremembered Robin’s schedule. That’s fine. That’s something, anyway. He can work with something. 

With a vague salute that he hopes to god comes across as inoffensive and casual, Eddie beelines for the break room. He’ll feel a little better with Steve at his back, or at least after he gets a chance to hiss “I told you so” and work some of the panicking out of his system.

The break room, however, is empty save for a flimsy card table, some shitty folding chairs, and a couch that's definitely seen better days. Eddie looks around, dumbfounded, and even ducks into the adjoining manager’s office to double check that Steve isn’t holed up in there for some reason. He hears the break room door swing open and shut again and darts out hopefully, but—

It’s Robin again. “Steve felt a migraine coming on a couple hours into his shift and called me to fill in for him,” she announces. “I just flipped the sign to closed. We, Eddie Munson, are going to have a talk.”

-

** I read the "Welcome to Family Video, where the theater comes tyo your living room" line in Cut and Changed and Rearranged by AidaRonan and could not get it out of my head, so it crept in here. And then I had to dig around until I found the fic it was from, because my memory for titles is like Swiss cheese. Anyway, great fic, highly recommend!