#bit of a fucked up thing to do to a theater kid

[bitethedevil]

What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[ajdrawshq]

how messed up it must be to go from enjoying plays to feeling like ur stuck inside one..

[nasa-parker]

i wish i could articulate my feelings on across the spiderverse better

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Video

“Shoot, I don’t know about this. Something about watching this feels weird.”

My bro just kept holding my face, “You said you wanted to be one of the bros dude. Just keep watching, this video will tell you everything you need to know”

“Yeah, you said that, but this is just static and nonsense, and something about it has me on edge. Just let me get out of here.”

“But don’t it speak to you? Isn’t there something you want to let out jock boy.”

“I…no, no I… I can’t… stop, what’s happening?”

“Jock boy is about to learn what being a bro is all about. Jock boy wants to listen carefully to his bro and watch the video.”

“No no no… but, it… it sounds so… calm…”

“Yeah jock boy, just like a mind vacation. Just let it happen. Good jock boy.”

“Must… listen… to… bruuuuhhh.”

Sometimes it takes a little convincing, but eventually they all fall. Their eyes grow wide before their muscles go limp and mouths drop open. It usually only takes a little bit for them to process. But when they finally do come too, it’s like a whole different world in there. The first one I did by accident. Found the weird file and sent it to my roommate as a joke. It wasn’t until I got back from class that I saw just how much power I now had.

Gone was the theater kid, in his place was a souped up bro ready to knock back some cold ones, and get sweaty in the gym. It was a surprise when he began rubbing my thigh in the sauna, and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted in his arms as he positioned me on the bench and began stretching me out. I was so relaxed he slid in with no lube, fucking me raw and hard as his tongue kept my mouth distracted from moaning. Thought I just got lucky there, happened to get a gay guy. But I quickly learned for him now, “any hole’s a goal.” And it was confirmed when I tried it with a second guy:

Good old Southern boy, and as straight as they came. Thought he was hot shit in class. Sent him the file when we were on a group project together. By the next day when he came in, he couldn’t add two numbers together with a calculator. He was still smug as hell but in bed, let’s just say he earned it. He was about as thick as an ear of corn, and he knew how to plow a field and spread his seed.

I had tried a couple others since then. A scholarship rival here. A group mate there. A couple disappointing dates that ended up really turning the night around. But my friend had finally gotten curious and started asking some questions. I didn’t need someone to question what was happening. I needed a lifting buddy. This was my first time trying to edit the file to get some different results.

“Hey, bro? What happened last night? I feel hung over as fuck..”

Holy shit he was massive. “Nothing too much bro. You just got fucking shit faced.”

“Huhuhu, yeah,” he gawfed, “sounds right.

It was time to try the trigger and see how much the changes worked, “Hey, jock boy, tell me your name.”

His laughter stopped as his eyes glossed over, “My name is Jack, but my friends just call me Jacked.”

“What do you want more than anything, jock boy?”

“To serve my bros,” he replied.

“Will you do anything for them?”

His mind flickered for a moment. I saw a look of confusion pass over him. He looked down, “Hey, what… WHAT HAPPENED? What did you do-“

I walked up and held his face“JOCK BOY, STOP.”

He tried to fight it, his mind pulling him back to the abyss. But as I watched his body slowly relax, I knew I had won even before he said, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing bro.”

“Jock Boy, will you do anything for your bros?”

His face broke out in a shiteating grin, “Fuck yeah, anything for my bros.”

“New exercise routine. You, face down, ass up. My bed. Now.”

He excitedly ran back to my bedroom. I heard the bed squeal under his weight. Good to know I could edit things. Can’t always let my bros have all the fun.

[apothesized-moth]

" Out of the Depths of Hell and back, The spawn of the Black and White! "

I FINALLY fucking finished this ohhh my god, this has been MONTHS in the making, I cannot BELIEVE I'm finished.

I wanted to hone in on the Theme that I THINK they were trying to set up originally, of highschool stereotypes, in these redesigns because I feel like they didn't... Translate like they wanted it to in the show? So I tweaked it a bit and made it (maybe?) a bit clearer what each stereotype they are?

Explanations and Close-ups / Stand-alones below the cut! (In no particular Order)

I tried to keep some things consistent across all the brothers, to show that they are all connected in some way. So they all get a point of Fur / hair and a few spots of glitter. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. I also tried to make them... Approximately human, but I couldn't help myself with some Features like ears, teeth or Horns. Whoops.

The Jock / Prep, Wiggly I wanted to uh. Un-Twinkify him. But also make him a sort of Jock-ish type? My brother pointed out that he was probably supposed to be a Preppy originally, but I has already almost finished this design by then so uhhhh he's a jock now. His Crown? Uhhh. Cause he's. The king.. of.... the........ School?....?

The Theater Kid, Pokey I actually really liked his original design, I thought it worked pretty well with what they were trying to communicate, so I didn't change it very much, aside from moving the Fur around from his Hat to his Collar and sleeves. He was also the First one I drew out because of that.

The Cheerleader, Nibbly THE NIBBLY!!!!!!!!! I love love love this one, defo my favorite out of them all. He's not... AS Cheerleader-looking as I wanted him to be, but honestly I like him too much to try to change it now. I also really liked his Original design, and didn't really change much, apart from moving some stuff around and adding some stuff. Kissing him on his bigass Pigtailed head.

The Quiet Kid, Blinky Originally, in the Show Design, I didn't know what Blinky was supposed to be. I tried a LOT of designs for him, and was never really happy with any of them, because I still wanted them to have the Essence of their Show Designs, and I. Didn't like Blinky's design at all in the Show Proper. I'm still not really happy about it, but what can you do. I gave him a Watcher World shirt for fun (And because I LOVE Watcher World!!!) He's also the only one that doesn't have any fur on him because I. Didn't know where to add it, so just pretend his Hair is some fur of some kind.

The Weird Kid, Tinky I didn't understand what Tinky was supposed to be in the Show Proper either, but he gave the vibes of someone who would be really into Scene and Emo stuff, and who would Naruto run in the hallways, and get Cheap goggles from those Knock-off stands at Cons, so that's exactly what I made him. I'm also really happy with his Design, if I'll be honest.

Thanks for reading all of that Jesus Christ you really didn't have to.

[steddieas-shegoes]

wanna shout it from the rooftops

for @steddie-week prompt 'secret relationship'

rated m | 1397 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: secret relationship, established relationship, love confessions, making out, coming out

🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫

As soon as Dustin walked out the door, Eddie was backing Steve against the wall, lips on his neck, hands wandering across his arms and sides.

“God, I thought they’d never leave,” Steve gasped, throwing his head back as Eddie’s teeth bit into his collarbone. “Need you so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

“Looked so good in that apron. So unfair I couldn’t get my hands on you when you were making cookies for us,” Eddie groaned against his skin. “Wanna fuck you right here. Open you up on my tongue-“

“Sorry, Steve! Forgot my-“ Dustin’s voice stopped before Eddie could even register that he should pull away. “What the fuck!”

“Language!” Steve yelled as he shoved Eddie away from him, trying to fix his shirt and hair. Not that it would do any good; Dustin just got an eyeful already.

At least they weren’t naked. Yet.

“Please tell me you were fighting,” Dustin sounds distraught, which isn’t fair. He should’ve knocked.

“You spent months making me feel bad for not wanting to hang out with your new best friend and now you’re hoping we’re fighting?” Steve placed his hands on his hips, subtly trying to catch his breath and will his dick back to soft. “What about that looked like fighting to you? How have you not sat through sex ed yet?”

“You were having sex?!” Dustin’s voice cracked. “In the hall?!”

“Of my home!” Steve threw his arms up. “And no we weren’t having sex, but we were getting there.”

Eddie held his hands up, brain finally coming back online enough to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Okay. Dustin, why the hell are you even back?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

“And you decided to storm in here like it’s your house instead of knocking?” Steve was trying to take it easy, but everything was falling apart.

They’d kept their relationship a secret for nearly three months now. Robin didn’t even know.

Now that Dustin saw what he did, everyone would know and everyone would hate them and then Eddie would leave Steve for making everyone hate them and-

“Stevie!” Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as Steve focused back in on what was going on. His breath was coming in short pants, and if Eddie wasn’t so close to him, he isn’t sure he’d be able to see him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve gotta breathe for me.”

Breathe for Eddie. He could do that. He did that all the time.

He liked doing what Eddie told him to, he liked the praise that came when he did it, he liked being good. Breathing was easy.

He took a deep breath, then another, relaxing as Eddie smiled back at him encouragingly.

“That’s good, angel. Keep doing that. I’m gonna get Dustin’s notebook, okay?” Eddie didn’t seem like he wanted to leave Steve alone, but he didn’t have much of a choice right now.

“Okay.”

Eddie walked away, towards the study that they’d turned into a game room for the kids to hang out in, and Steve immediately felt the panic settle in his chest again.

“Steve?” Dustin asked, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Dustin sounded hurt, looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was worried you’d hate me, or Eddie. That all of you would hate us for…for being different,” Steve looked down at his hands. “Didn’t wanna lose you.”

“But it’s okay if you’re gay, Steve. None of us would care!” Dustin exclaimed. “I just kinda thought you liked girls. Like Nancy.”

“I do. I just also like guys. I love Eddie,” Steve provided, relaxing slightly at Dustin’s words.

“You love him?” Dustin asked.

“You love me?” Eddie asked from the doorway, clutching Dustin’s notebook tight to his chest.

Steve wasn’t used to keeping his crushes and relationships a secret. He was used to holding hands in the movie theater and kissing a girl goodbye at her door. He was used to being able to show how much he loved someone without a filter.

But with Eddie, he’d held back. He had to in some ways, and they agreed it was best not to give anything away around anyone else for a while, but he’d hoped that Eddie saw how much he cared about him when they were alone.

“I do. I thought it was pretty obvious,” Steve stepped closer to Eddie, ignoring Dustin’s presence entirely. “I love you.”

Eddie threw Dustin’s notebook to the side, ignoring the ‘hey!’ that Dustin let out, and pulled Steve into his arms.

“Can’t believe you told Dustin before you told me,” Eddie laughed against his shoulder. “You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“Yeah, well. I love you enough to not care if everyone knows,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, kissing the side of his head and lingering there for longer than he probably should in front of a guest. “Was gonna tell you tomorrow after our date.”

“You mean the super secret plans that you wouldn’t give me any hints about?” Eddie pulled away, searching Steve’s eyes. “Will you tell me them now?”

“Maybe when Dustin leaves.”

Both of them turned to Dustin, who was staring at them with a blank look.

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go,” Dustin said, still looking lost. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie let go of Steve to walk towards Dustin. “We good?”

“Yeah! I just thought you guys barely even liked each other and you’re actually in love and having sex and I’m just trying to do the math.”

Steve snorted, but straightened out when Eddie glared at him.

“If you wanna talk about anything, you can stay. You seem kinda…out of it.”

“I’d rather not intrude right now,” Dustin said, gesturing to the way their hair and clothing was still a bit disheveled. “But you are gonna tell everyone soon, right? So I don’t have to keep it a secret?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, smiling when he gave him one nod in agreement.

“Yeah, dude. We’re gonna tell everyone at the next movie night,” Eddie said as he turned back to Dustin.

“Thank god!” He breathed out. “Then I’m leaving so you two can do…whatever it is you do.”

He didn’t wait for them to respond, rushing out the door, nearly forgetting his notebook again.

Eddie laughed as he slammed the door, his head falling onto Steve’s shoulder as they fell against the closest wall. Steve was holding Eddie up, laughing with him at the absurdity of being caught by their favorite, but most likely to tell everyone, kid.

“He’s gonna go tell everyone right now, you know that, right?” Steve gasped out between laughter.

“Oh yeah. We’ll be lucky to have another hour before they’re all showing up here with questions,” Eddie said breathlessly.

He pulled back to look at Steve, both of them flush with sudden relief that it was no longer a secret. He leaned in to kiss him once on the corner of his mouth, smiling when he felt Steve’s lips turn up.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

“Even though I made you wait to tell everyone?” Steve sounded unsure suddenly, like maybe Eddie would retract everything.

“You didn’t make me do anything, sweetheart. We both agreed to wait.” Eddie cupped his jaw and kissed him slow, much softer than where they’d left off before being interrupted.

No matter how much he enjoyed taking Steve apart, how much he liked seeing him covered in bite marks and bruises, he liked seeing him melt like this more.

“I love you,” Steve said against his lips, already letting Eddie take more of the weight he didn’t have leaning back against the wall. “Want you. Before they get here. Please.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely?” Eddie nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Let’s go to your room this time. Don’t want any more interruptions.”

Steve nodded and led Eddie upstairs.

If the kids showed up in an hour, Eddie would make excuses for why Steve was asleep in bed, field their nosy questions, and ease some of the burden of coming out for Steve. If they didn’t, he’d get to keep showing Steve how much he loved him.

Over and over again. Until the whole world knew.

[astroboots]

Omg please continue with the Miguel fang prompt!!! It’s too cruel to stop there!!!!!

HIDE AND SEEK

Summary: Miguel and you plays hide and seek.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Hunter predator kink (I think that's what we're calling it?) anyway explicit. Miguel is a bit rough.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

It's all too easy to get lost in the crowd in a city as crowded as New York. You slip in among a throng of tourist standing around like a flock of pecking hens, their faces dipped down at their phones, huddled over google maps as they try to figure out how to get to Broadway as if it's not within goddamn walking distance, right down the street.

In a nervous habit, you fiddle with the watch on your wrist. Your eyes flick over the bright light that tells you it's 11:28pm.

Which means, there's still 32 minutes left.

God this is the slowest hour you've ever lived through in your life.

You squeeze yourself in the back, behind a woman with a large hat and larger sunglasses, even though it's evening and the sky is near black. The only things left illuminating the sky now is glaring shop signs, aggressive LED lights, and the mega-spectacular ads display that is brighter than the goddamn sun.

Peering over the madness of the crowd, you try to spot the familiar sight of his all too recognizable build looming over everyone else.

But there's nothing.

He's not here. You let out a long held in breath, your chest sagging with relief. Of course he wouldn't be here.

Times Square has over 300,000 visitors passing through every day. 300,000 sweaty, exhausted individuals drenched in perfume and deodorant that would make it impossible to pick up your scent. Thousands of people speaking all at once, over the angry noise of honking traffic that would make it impossible, even for him, to pick up the sound of your distinct footfall.

No, He won't be able to catch you here. That's why you came here after all.

You glance down at your watch again. 11:31.

Shit! How has only three minutes gone by?

Shaking your head, you look up at the sea of people.

You'd better get moving. Even in a crowd, if you stay still for too long, it won't be safe.

Walking briskly down the wide street, it's a struggle to squeeze through the ever moving crowd as the glaring lights change from makeup ads to theater marquees. You're peering over your shoulder with every three steps you take, constantly expecting the familiar sight of his messy curls to peek out a foot above the crowd.

He's so damn tall there's no fucking way you'll miss him if he's found you. You'll get plenty of advance warning, you reassure yourself as you continue to move forward.

Your eyes settle over your watch again.

11:46. Fuck you sideways.

You know you shouldn't keep checking it every two seconds like this, because all it serves to do, is to ratchet up your blood pressure so high you're going to need to start taking medication for it.

How is time moving so slow. You shake your head in exasperation, and for a fraction of a second you swear you see it.

A flash of unmissable dark navy glowing with red.

You freeze. Your back feels like ice, cold damp sweat breaking out along your spine. You snap your eyes back but there's nothing there now. Nothing but an anonymous crowd.

What the-- How could he have just disappeared into thin air?

He's 6 feet and fucking 9 inches. Taller than your refrigerator back in your tiny studio apartment. The top of his head beats out your fucking Christmas tree. If he was here, he'd be impossible to miss. You don't fucking miss a giraffe when you visit the Brooklyn Zoo, so why are you having such a fucking hard time spotting him? How the fuck does he move so inconspicuously?

Was it just your imagination?

You glance at your watch: 11:46. Gotta be kidding. Is time standing still now? Has it just decided to stop moving altogether?

You force yourself to step forward and ignore how your knees seems to cave at your own weight as you sink into the pavement with every step.

In the corner of your eyes you spot him. Clearly this time. Real. Not a figment of your imagination. He's only a few steps away from you. The familiar pair of glowing scarlet eyes fixed on you.

Oh fuck, shit. Shit! Your heart races at the sight, beating so hard you think you feel it in your lungs. You're already sprinting in the opposite direction without thought and the only thing guiding you is the pure impulse to escape.

You push through the crowd, sprinting forward without taking in your surroundings. All you care about is to get away as your gaze is fixed on your watch.

11:52. Eight more minutes. You just need to stay away for eight more minutes.

You keep running as the crowd seems to thin, and the colorful lights and noise of traffic fades away. Then you finally stop, catching your breath to look up at your surroundings.

It's empty and void of people. A large empty van is blocking the narrow alley from view of the main street, and there's an unlocked gate that you've come through.

On the other side from where you've come from there's a tall bricked up wall as far as the eye can see-- a dead end.

How the fuck did you manage to find the only deserted dead end alleyway in central New York?

Shit you need to get out of here, you won't be able to run away if you're trapped here.

You glance one more time at your watch.

11:57. Three minutes. 180 seconds. It's all you need and then you'll win.

You turn your heel back towards the gate. But it's too late.

The dim light of the alley is eaten up by a large and imposing shadow.

He's already here.

The familiar navy blue and the menacing red sprawled across his chest fills your vision, blocking your only path to escape. All you see is red eyes glowing so bright it lights up the dark alley with it.

"Time's up," he says, mouth curled into a mocking smile so wide that you can see his fangs peek out from his upper lip.

That's when you realize you are well and fully trapped like the helpless prey you are in his spider's web. You're right where he wants you.

God you're so damn stupid. You were safe in the crowd. But one sight of him had you spooked and running into the only alley to be found in all of New York.

Shit.

He'd planned this all along. The bastard's must've been the one who opened the gate. And you had ran in here like some scared witless rabbit straight into his trap.

You could try to escape him. Some vain, silly leftover pride in you, is adamant that you still have at least two whole minutes to get away.

He steps closer, and you can't help but instinctively step back as he does.

You know it's a game. Know that he would never hurt you, but that hungry and predatory red glow in his eyes has fear spiking along your spine all the same.

"Miguel, wai--"

The rest of your futile plea dies in your throat. His broad palm covers your mouth and jaw, and even your startled squeak is muffled into silence as he presses you up against the wall.

You whimper into his hand, but he doesn't relent. Doesn't ease up, even as he leans down and hushes you. Despite the soothing tone he uses with you, it isn't comforting at all. It drips with condescension as he press his lips to your bare throat.

"I'm gonna take my prize now, nena," he murmurs into your skin and because your brain is broken, with no sense for survival instincts, every part of you tingles at the amused threat in his voice.

"You promised remembered?" he reminds you.

And of course you do. It's hard not to, when the bastard's got you pinned against a brick wall in an abandoned alley like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck. He's taken this way too seriously. You don't know why you had suggested the world's dumbest hide and seek with this competitive and unreasonable man.

He presses you into the hard brick behind you, like there's anywhere left for you to go. And you can feel it. The proof of his excitement pressing up against your stomach, pinning you against the wall. He's hard.

Any residual resentment at your loss gives way for excitement when you feel his cock twitch and jerk against you.

The edge of his teeth rests on your bare shoulder as goosebumps breaks across your skin, and you feel dizzy. Anticipation swirls in your stomach with an intoxicating warmth.

You can't fucking breathe.

His hand snakes up your dress, wedging your panties to the side, until you can hear the fabric rip and tear. Shit, you're going to kill him for that.

The thick head of his cock presses in and stretches you open, as he forces his way inside of you, in time with his sharp and whetted fangs sinking into your flesh. Electricity pings across your nerves, sweet and euphoric and you feel drunk with it.

He's filling you, inch by hard and relentless inch, until you swear you can feel him lodged in your stomach. You feel so fucking full. Full of Miguel until nothing else fits anymore, but he doesn't stop.

His cock nudges along an impossibly deep spot inside you that has you losing orientation and makes the space around you spin, and he's still not fully inside.

White blinding pleasure streaks through your every nerve and crowds your vision, as he sinks you down further on him, until your vision goes blank. He's so fucking big. Always is no matter how many times you take him like this.

Pleasure pool with heat in your stomach as he holds you in place, impaled on the thickness of him.

Your limbs go boneless, unable to hold up your own weight, and for a moment you're not sure if that's the venom released to your bloodstream or just the effect he has on you. You only remain upright because he's propping you up with his body.

His mouth skims along your throat, dragging his teeth up until his fangs tease along the shell of your ear, with the threat of sharpness. The edge of them barely graze your skin, completely unlike the feral impatience he'd sunk into you with, as he whispers into your ear.

"Found you, nena."

Dedication and credits: This piece is dedicated to @foxilayde for her utterly deranged (and amazing) post that had me SALIVATING. Thank you for putting this brainworm into my head. I am shooketh.

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Single Blind Study

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington

Word Count: 3k

Based on this prompt, originally by @stillgoingsteddie

Summary: After Steve and Eddie have discussed their fun times with the reader between themselves, they want to know who's the better lay.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Blindfolds. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V. Multiple partners.

.

.

.

"What is happening exactly?" you ask, your pulse picking up as Eddie's nimble fingers tie his bandana over your eyes. "You guys weren't really all that specific when you said you wanted to hang out."

"I suppose you could call it a trust experiment," answers Steve, sitting next to you as he pats your thigh.

Eddie snorts. "Experiment is a good word for it."

"But," Steve insists, "a good chunk of this is about trust, sweets. Eddie and I have been thinking, and talking."

You chuckle. "That's never a good thing."

Eddie gives your head a gentle shove when he finishes tying the bandana, muttering an amused "smartass" under his breath.

His weight shifts on the couch as he settles in, at the same time Steve is moving forward, seemingly kneeling before you.

"Do you trust us?" he asks, his hands on either of your knees.

Your hand lands on one of his, your fingers giving a gentle squeeze. "I'll trust you more when you actually tell me what's going on. Why am I not allowed to see?"

"Okay, here's the deal," Eddie says, scooting closer to your side; you feel his warmth through his jeans, his thigh pressed against yours as Steve's hands move from your knees up to your hips. Your body tingles in response to their touches, waiting in earnest for their explanation. "Though, full disclosure, we were kinda high when we started talking about this."

You snort. "When aren't you kinda high, Eds?"

"Get to the point," Steve says impatiently, thwacking Eddie on the knee. He offers a gentle apology to you as he caught your knee with the reproach, too.

"So, we were having a conversation the other day about how you and I have done the horizontal tango before and how you and Steve have also..."

"Fucked each other's brains out," Steve finishes, his fingertips gripping into your hips for a moment.

"Oh?" is all you say.

It's no secret between the three of you that you've opened yourself up physically for them both. It all started on a boring summer day last year while you and Eddie were waiting for Steve to get home from work. The two of you started talking about past experiences, and one thing led to another. Shortly after, Steve was lamenting another failed dating attempt, and you found yourself on his lap in his car after you dropped the kids off at the arcade. Since then, whenever the fancy struck you, or Eddie, or Steve, it was a given that you'd roll around in the sack together.

The images of either one naked and writhing under you, above you, behind you, moaning your name, hands all over your body stream through your mind, tingling through your bloodstream and straight to your core.

"We started comparing notes," Eddie continues, his tone getting softer as he moves closer to you; you feel his hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

"What notes are we talking about here?" you ask.

"Things you like, things you don't like," Steve begins. "What you sound like, what you look like."

"And weirdly enough, there's a few discrepancies we noticed," Eddie says.

"Yeah, like we both know you like to fuck in public," Steve says, "but for whatever reason you and I only fuck in the car in public, but with Eddie..."

"Dressing room at JC Penney's, movie theater, in the middle of a show at the Hideout, I could go on..."

You can hear Eddie's grin as your body heats up, remembering especially the night at the Hideout where he took you up against the wall with a full crowd around you.

"Steve, do you wanna fuck in more places?" you giggle, pressing your thighs together for just a little bit of friction.

"No," he says before he grumbles. "I mean yes, but that's not the point of this conversation."

"The point is, Steve and I compared notes about you," Eddie says, "but we don't know how we compare. I would say that some of our experiences match up, but there's not enough information to tell which of us fucks you better."

"Ooohhh," you reply. "So, you want me to just tell you about it? I can do that. Don't see what the point of the blindfold is."

"Nah, sweetheart," Eddie says. "This is more of a live comparison."

It takes a second, but as soon as the idea clicks, your body floods with arousal. Your tongue slips over your lips as you imagine what's to come, and you feel your cunt squeeze in anticipation.

"Right," you say after a steadying breath, "but why the blindfold?"

You can practically hear their smiles as they each take one of your hands into theirs.

"It's a proper single blind study," Steve said. "We're taking away some factors that might influence your decision making."

“We’re gonna watch in real time,” Eddie adds. “We’re gonna watch which one of us makes you feel better.”

Heat floods your body, the pulsing between your legs ticking up exponentially. Your heart pounds at the thought; you’ve never had both of them at the same time. Not that you’d never thought about it before, you just figured that it wasn’t necessarily something that they’d go for. But now, the opportunity of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson fucking you simultaneously has arisen, and you have never been more up for anything in your life.

“One thousand percent yes,” you say, nearly stumbling over your words in your enthusiasm. “I would love to participate. Please, yes.”

“Told you she would, Harrington,” Eddie chuckles, and you hear another thump that could be Steve punching him on the shoulder.

“Alright, then,” Steve says. “Stand up, sweetheart.”

You follow the direction, getting to your feet as they hold onto your hands for support. With your other senses on alert as your vision is obscured, you finally notice that neither of them is wearing cologne, but they’re both possibly wearing the same deodorant. With their intentions bared, it makes sense; knowing their scents like you do would be a dead giveaway. Now that you think about it, both had also been cleanly shaven, no stubble on their cheeks to give either away. Even now, you're realizing Eddie wasn't even wearing his rings.

“Strip,” Eddie commands gently.

Your shirt comes off first and you drop it to the couch, the boys humming in appreciation.

“I might need some help with this bra,” you say, feigning helplessness. “Would one of you gentleman want to give me a hand?”

At once, there’s a pair of hands at your back that unhook the clasp as another pair slips the straps from your shoulders. The boys are just as needy as you are it seems, wanting to touch you in anyway they can. If only you had been there for their conversation about you, to hear their comparisons, and how you turn each of them on. With your tits on display, you feel your nipples pebble at the thought of each one being suckled by a different mouth, a different tongue swirling over the sensitive buds.

“God, these tits,” you hear Eddie groan, and you smile.

“The shorts next?” you say with the same faux helplessness.

Someone’s fingers tug at the button and zipper of your shorts before yanking them down your legs.

“Wait,” Eddie says, “didn’t I rip those panties off of you at the carnival that one time?”

“I bought her a new pair,” Steve answers. “Those are her favorite. Also… at the carnival?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, “we fucked on the Ferris wheel. That little mini skirt she was wearing drove me insane.”

You feel Steve pull you close, getting a gentle grip on your jaw as he directs your face to his. “We are fucking in more places, you hear me? I want to fuck you on a Ferris wheel.”

“Anywhere you want, Stevie,” you giggle, rolling onto your toes to press your mouth to his, but he doesn’t let you.

“Not yet,” he directs, pressing on your shoulders to get you onto solid footing.

You feel Eddie’s fingers grip the lacy panties you wear, pulling them down your legs and helping you step out of them. You hear him inhale deeply and you know for damn sure that Eddie just sniffed those panties.

“I’m tucking these away,” you hear him say.

“Don’t ruin those, too,” Steve replies quickly.

“Before you sit back down though,” Eddie says, changing the subject; you can hear his belt unbuckle, sliding through the loops on his jeans as he tugs it free. “We gotta make sure your hands are tucked away nice and safe so they don’t touch anything.”

“Why can’t I touch anything?” you counter, almost whiny in your inquiry.

“Well,” Eddie says, turning you around, looping his belt around your wrists, “it’s safe to say that there are definitive differences to the way me and Steve feel. Our hair feels different, our bodies feel different. You gotta remember this is a blind study and you’re not entirely blind if you can still use your hands.”

He guides you gently to the couch, making sure your hands are tucked carefully behind you. You get comfortable, listening to the rustle of their clothes as they strip, too.

“How are you that hard already?” you hear Steve gripe.

Eddie chuckles. “Like you’re one to talk. I’m surprised you haven’t cum yet.”

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m probably wetter than I’ve ever been right now.”

“Don’t make it worse, babe,” Steve replies. “Can’t wait to get into that pussy.”

“You’re telling me,” Eddie agrees.

“Now, one of us is gonna start,” Steve explains. “All you need to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna figure out who goes first?” you say, but they’ve already gone into a game of Rock, Paper, Scissor, and you laugh. Best two out of three and they’re mum as to who won. You listen for any clues at all, anything that might give away the identity of who is about to please you, but it seems they’ve covered all their bases.

Neither of the boys speak, but you feel a hand on your knee as someone kneels before you, spreading your legs wide. The mystery man exhales before running a finger between your dewy lips, stopping to rub your clit gently.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, relief at finally being touched warming your core.

Two fingers slide into you, slowly pumping to get you started. Your restrained hands clench behind your back, eager to touch the one touching you, but instead, you simply moan, widening your legs to give him better access.

He continues, not making a single sound but the one his fingers make pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you keen as he begins to curl his finger against your G-spot, pressing harder on your clitoris as you squirm beneath his touch; he quickens his speed, listening to your body as it nears climax. “I’m so close… oh, fuck me…”

Your cunt squeezes his fingers before releasing with an orgasm, your body twitching as ride out the high.

You haven’t even begun to come down from that one before he hitches your legs over his shoulders and leans in, his tongue lapping up the mess he made with his hands. While this may be a classic Eddie move, you’re confused by the fact that you don’t feel his hair on your thighs. He must have pulled it all back for the experiment, but there are other ways to tell that it’s him.

He always grips your thighs with his callused guitarist’s fingers, pulling them apart to fit his head between your legs. His tongue lingers in your hole, dancing with the nectar that drips from you. When he’s satisfied, he glides along to your clit, lapping with the whole tongue before teasing it with the tip. He winds you up and you writhe beneath him, whimpering as the grip of another orgasm threatens to take over.

“Fuck, yes!” you nearly shout as he doubles down, coaxing that climax from you; your body shudders, ecstasy coursing through every vein. Your thighs clench around his head, your feet scrabbling to pull him closer to you.

The mystery man - presumably Eddie - pulls away shortly after, though, taking with him a whimper from your lips as he leaves.

It's not long, though, until you feel a pair of hips bumping against your thighs, spreading them apart once again. The hard tip of a cock tickles your heat, gliding up and down before notching into your entrance. Slowly, he enters, spearing through you until he's fully seated and your chest heaves with a satisfied sigh. He stays there, stretching your pussy as his thumb presses against your clit.

"Move!" you demand, hardly able to take the anticipation of waiting. "Please, fuck me!"

At once, he rears back, almost exiting you before he slams back in again. A moan dances from your lips as he enters a rhythm, steadily splitting you wide open with every thrust. His thumb still plays with your clit, tightening the coil in your belly as he circles it. You moan again, your body bouncing as his hips slam your ass.

You wrap your legs around Eddie's waist - you'd know that slutty little waist anywhere, especially between your legs - and he responds; keeping his thumb on your clit, the rest of his hands splay out over your hips, gripping you as his rhythm quickens. You grin, knowing damn well he's close to finishing.

Your cunt throbs, so close to a climax that you can practically taste it. With just the right stroke, you burst, ecstasy spilling down to the very tips of your limbs and back before you're suddenly empty.

He strokes himself above you, trying so hard not to make a sound as he spurts onto your belly.

You lay back on the couch, your chest rising and falling with hurried breaths before he pulls away.

"Oh!" you say, surprised when the next body takes his place and bends over you, running his tongue along the mess on your skin.

Bold of Steve to do so, you wouldn't have expected it of him.

Before you can say anything, however, he presses his fingers into your pulsing heat, drawing a moan from you as he massages your g-spot. He meets your lonely clit with his finger tips, not circling like Eddie would, but keeping a steady back and forth rhythm. It isn't long before he pulls the orgasm from your writhing body, overstimulated but basking in every minute of too much ecstasy.

Steve doesn't stop, though, leaning forward and lapping at your clit. He's hungrier than usual, seemingly rushing through his usually thorough routine of getting you off. His free hand grips your thigh open, his fingertips pressing into your flesh.

"Fuck," you sigh, making to move your arms and forgetting they're tied by Eddie's belt.

Your hips press up the closer your climax comes, wriggling against Steve as he brings you to a swift orgasm.

"Give me your cock," you moan after a spell and, on command, you feel him slip inside your soaking cunt, stretching you just as much as Eddie did.

Steve is definitely impatient, not teasing you like Eddie had, but getting straight to the point; his hips slam against your ass like he'll never be able to fuck you again as his hands grip your hips, holding you steady. You wrap your legs around him too, his body a little thicker than Eddie's.

"Yes," you gasp, growing closer to your next orgasm.

Like he's conditioned at this point, Steve's fingers find your clit again, pressing on it until you squeeze around him, moans dancing through the air from your mouth. He must think you can't hear him with all the noise you make, but he whimpers almost imperceptibly as he pulls out of you, his spend joining Eddie's on your tummy.

It's almost dream-like, the way your head swirls; you couldn't see a thing but your boys had you going like they've never done before.

"Okay, babes," you hear Eddie say, close to you. You feel his hands wrap around your head to relieve you of your blindfold. "There are those pretty eyes."

You blink against the light of the room, opening your eyes to see your boys head-to-toe naked, both with their hair pulled back. Eddie is standing close to Steve now, his cock hard once more. Steve's cock, on the other hand, is taking a well-deserved rest.

"Well, if I didn't know already, I definitely know now," you say with a giggle.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie.

You point to Eddie's member. "If Eddie would've just finished he wouldn't be hard like he is right now."

Both their gazes aim for Eddie's dick.

"Okay," Eddie says, "but who was better?"

"What do you mean if you didn't know before?" Steve asks at the same time.

You sit up, allowing Eddie to remove his belt from your wrists. Steve picks up the discarded bandanna and cleans your tummy of the come.

"Eddie's a guitarist," you state simply. "His calluses gave him away almost instantly."

Eddie looks at his hands like they've betrayed him, then wraps one around his erection.

"Honestly," he says, "watching Harrington go at you was probably one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Not to mention, he licked my jizz off your stomach, babes."

"I was trying to throw her off," Steve says defensively. "I thought maybe she would think it was you licking my jizz."

"You want me to lick your jizz, Stevie?" Eddie teases, wiggling his tongue at him.

Steve seems to consider it for a moment before you pop in.

"The next person to say 'jizz' gets a beating. And not the fun kind."

"Seriously, though," Steve says, lowering to the couch next to you. "Who was better?"

The two look at you expectantly, each one eager to hear their name, but you can't let them have that satisfaction. A wicked grin pulls your lips toward your ears.

"Well," you say. "I can't decide."

"What?" they say together.

"We're just gonna have to keep studying, I guess."

[artdcnaldson]

medical MALPRACTICE 💜

theater kid conversation and gyno art conversation got me thinking about dr pommader from waitress…. aaurrr art, your pretty gynecologist, who you try your best not to look at too much during appointments bc you’re afraid you’ll get wet and he’ll obviously be able to see…

you’ve been seeing him more recently bc you and your bum ass husband are trying for a baby, but nothing is happening. your husband is convinced it’s your fault, so you go to dr. donaldson (art, as he insists you call him) to run some fertility tests. when you tell him what’s going on you swear you can see his eye twitch when you mention your husband blaming you. the exam is…… charged. he takes extra care with you, his gloved fingers gentle but firm, definitely lingering longer than they need to as he talks you through what he’s doing. he’s always been so easy going and he still is, but there’s an authoritative edge to his voice as he massages your gummy walls to “relax the tissue” so he can take samples for the tests. he asks you exactly what you’ve been doing to try for a baby… asks you describe positions that you’ve been trying… you blush and tell him it’s nothing but missionary in the dark for you and your husband. you see that little eye twitch again. he tells you that some positions are more optimal for it to take, offers to show you how to get into them. you end up on his table with him bending and stretching you into different positions, one with your chest down and your ass up with your thighs squeezed together, another on your back with one of your legs hiked over his shoulder. he maintains that he’s just demonstrating for you, but you’re both throbbing with need under your clothes. you can feel how hard he is in his scrubs, but you don’t mind even a little bit. you wish he’d fuck you right here on this table and he’s thinking the same exact thing.

you leave dazed and more horny than you think you’ve ever felt in your life. and if he schedules your follow up for after all his nurses and receptionists leave so it’s just you and him when he tells you you’re more than fertile and your husband is the problem… that’s nobody’s business but yours and his <33

MOANED AND DIED

God... you show up to the follow-up wearing a pretty little sundress (because it's easy to take on and off for any exams, of course! no other reason). You wear your hair really nice, do your makeup, leave your wedding ring in your car.

You always knew it was going to be your husband that was the problem. The news doesn't shock you as much as it makes the resentment that was building in the pit of your stomach boil over. Fuck your husband. Fuck your unhappy marriage. Fuck his insistence that a baby could fix something that neither of you really even wanted anymore.

"I do have another... I guess, like, problem," you say suddenly, before the 'appointment' ends and you have to go home to the shitty deadbeat waiting for you.

Art nods, brows furrowed in concern. He's a good doctor, he really is, even if he's definitely passed the threshold of a normal doctor/patient relationship.

"I just... I'm having trouble getting wet, when I'm with my husband." You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and let your words sink in. "Just... maybe you can just check and make sure nothing's wrong with me?"

That's how you wind up back on the table, feet in stirrups, gloved hands sliding your panties down your thighs. You shiver in the cold of examination room, goosebumps pebbling your flesh.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. His voice is barely above a whisper, gravelly with need, but it's so loud in the quiet of the close space.

"Yeah." The words escape you on an exhale, and you see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he moves his hands higher. You gasp as his gloved hand moves along the seam of your pussy, tracing the seam of you from your entrance to your clit.

His free hand rubs along your thigh— comforting, soothing. When you relax your thighs, he smiles. "There we go," he practically coos. "Just relax for me. I just need to check something."

His thumb rubs over your clit and you gasp. It wasn't a lie when you said you couldn't get wet for your husband, but with Art? It was fucking easy. You feel your body responding in earnest, cunt pulsing with need, dripping for him.

"See? You're perfect," his fingers tease over your entrance, collecting the arousal that pools there. "Your body works just like it needs to, for the right person."

[that-weeb-in-ur-closet]

annie♡ i saw your requests are open👀 could you maybe write smth for pookie deidara? anything works really look how cute he is. i literally cannot express how much i love him

Eeeee, Anne !!! You don't know how excited that made me <3 (I love Deidara and js Naruto in general)

Genre: Fluff, Crack, NSFW at the end.

If you're new in the Akatsuki, he'd be extremely awkward. I think he'd be so bad at introducing himself before he reaches the, "Art is an explosion!!" bit.

If he doesn't scare you off from literally popping an explosive clay bird in your face, he'll immediately get obsessed with you. It's not very often people aren't annoyed by his cute outbursts of energy and just eccentric personality. (He was definitely a theater kid.)

— The second you say anything about his hair, he blushes. Like, hard. Even if it's just a simple "your hair looks nice !" or "can I do/play with your hair?"

He does let you do it without complaint, but he, again, is probably super awkward about it. He doesn't know if it'll be weird if he speaks or if he doesn't, so he immediately feels relief when you start the conversation. (Only to immediately get embarrassed again when you call him a pretty princess.)

— He *will* teach you how to make clay sculptures. That's the only thing he tries to be all demanding about, walks up to you after hyping himself up, walking with confidence, and it all fades when he looks at your eyes. "I– uh... Do you... No! You'll– I'm gonna teach you how to make clay sculptures!"

That and doing his hair are probably the most intimate things you can do. He goes behind you and grabs your hands to help you sculpt it, and oddly enough—he's extremely relaxed, not awkward at all. "Good job... Yeah, push down right there, that's it. It's looking really nice." (It's not dirty I swear.)

— He looks so pretty with his hair down. That's, that's the whole headcanon, sorry.

— When he gets the courage to ask you out, after two years, you've never seen him more out of it. He hadn't slept for two days straight, which, may or may not have helped how he asked?? He wasn't as nervous as he would be if he did sleep. You said yes, and he immediately fell asleep on your shoulder the second you did. (CUTE !!!!!!!!)

— He doesn't let go of you. He has to be holding you, hugging you, has his hand on you, (cough, cough). He just has to be near your presence because he just loves you too much. <3

— He gets SO FUCKING JEALOUS of the other members. He knows some of them are better looking, stronger, etc, and it makes him insecure. He won't admit it, but of course, you can tell. But he notices the way you *obnoxiously* say "BRO !!" and "DUDE !!" to all the other members, as well as keeping a good three feet away from them when you find out. He notices. And he's no longer jealous, and the insecurities were kissed away.

— Speaking of kisses... He wanted your first kiss to be romantic and sweet. (Spoilers, it wasn't.)

He was sitting with you under a cherry blossom tree, looking at the clouds as the stereotypical couple does, when he picked a little flower and put it behind your ear, causing you to look at him. His hand is still by your face when you turn, causing his palm to be on your mouth.

Yeah, you ended up kissing the hand on his mouth instead of the one on his face. (That's a story to tell your kids.)

— I headcanon that the Akatsuki has a whole ass "Paint your nails day !" together and paint each other's nails. But he won't let you do it with them, and you do it in the comfort of his bedroom. He's too possessive to let anybody else touch your pretty hands.

— Okay, random, but you are the couple that checks people out. YKWIM?? Like, a girl/guy will walk by with a nice ass, and you simultaneously turn to look at it. Don't be afraid to admit bitches be attractive sometimes.

— IDK if any of you have seen that thing where there's a door, person A is behind the door with their back against it, and the other person B is talking to someone at the door with their hand on person A's mouth, hiding person A from whoever is at the door? Idk it's hard to explain. Y'all have done that. Anyway.

— Let's talk about nicknames. He's so SAPPY with them. "Sugar," "Love," nah. "My work of art," "My radiant sunshine," "Divine," "My explosion," ("Girly pop"), you get it. (Now if we're talking bedroom names‐)

Short NSFW !! if you're uncomfortable with that, please ignore this part !! ♡ (fem reader)

— You already know. The hands. He's gonna eat you out with them. One hand on your pussy, the other on your nipple, while he kisses you.

— He loves holding your hands above your head with you lying on the bed while he pounds into you. That's not a headcanon he would do that.

— Pull his hair. Pull his fucking hair. Nothing else.

— He gets KINKY as FUCK. Wants you to wear makeup so he can see it all smudged and messed up, will tie you up to the bed, will make you watch as his hand sucks him off and leans down to whimper in your ear, will eat you out under the table with other members watching and ACT LIKE HE'S NOT, he bites and licks you. So much. Maybe a mommy kink if you squint, and loves it when you grind on his thigh.

— Speaking of thigh grinding. (Is this my own biggest kink? Yeah, it is, get over it.) Let's talk about it. He'll grab your hair with one hand and make you look at him while the other is on your hip, helping you grind against him. Dry hump his abs while he sleeps, and see how hard he fucks you when he wakes up. "Couldn't wait till I woke up? Hmm... My pretty little whore..."

— Cum eater. What do you think those mouths are for? Clay? No, eating you and all your liquids.

— Choking kink. I repeat, choking kink. Doesn't matter if you're choking him or vice versa. If he's doing it, hickeys, hickeys, hickeys, hickeys. So many.

ANYWAYYYYYY that's all the headcanons I have for you !!!! Thanks for requesting <3

[erythriina]

Crozier: Stage manager. Runs an extremely tight ship; rehearsals start and end on time, and woe betide you if you show up late. Suffers no fools, especially when it comes to safety. Fell in love with theatre as a young kid, but became jaded after years of running into educational, financial, ‘who do you know’ barriers and dealing with the kind of bigots and assholes you only get in this industry.

Fitzjames: Originally Franklin’s AD, but is officially promoted to director when Franklin has to step down for health reasons. Used to be an actor—and a pretty good one!—but moved to directing because it seemed more prestigious and respectable. In the end, he wouldn’t choose to go back, but he will twist your ear with stories of his time trodding the boards. Studied on scholarship, does everything possible to keep this a secret.

( I went back on forth on switching these two roles, with Crozier as director and Fitzjames as SM, because in canon Crozier technically outranks JFJ. In the end though I think this is more fitting, since JFJ and Franklin may have big ideas, but Crozier is the one with his head firmly in the reality of the situation; as the SM and as Franklin’s canon second, his job (whether he gets to do it or not) is to reign him in, to make sure what he wants to happen is both feasible and safe. )

Blanky: Production manager. His job is to get the things necessary for JFJ and Crozier to do their jobs. He and Crozier have worked together for years and are a tight unit.

Little: Originally the technical director, (essentially the head of the scenic department: lights, sound, set, costumes, props). Becomes official AD when JFJ becomes official director. Briefly enjoys a stint as acting stage manager in Crozier’s stead, and by ‘enjoys’ I mean he hated every moment of it.

Jopson: Wardrobe head. Woe unto anyone who eats in costume. He and Crozier have worked together before—they come as a pair—so he becomes the unofficial liaison bw Crozier and the rest of the prod team (it’s a “dad likes you best” sort of situation). Crozier eventually asks him to become acting ASM (they didn’t have one before; Franklin didn’t think it was necessary). Did some acting as a kid/teen, but prefers production; if you hound him enough when he’s in a good mood, he will, after a long sigh, perform the most perfect triple time step you’ve ever seen.

Hodgson: Dramaturg and I won’t elaborate. Is also the fight captain when it’s called for, and is extremely good at it; he’s great at teaching one-on-one and encouraging the actors while still prioritizing safety, and his flair for the dramatic lends itself incredibly well to choreographing fights. He does, however, tend to lose it and make poor decisions when given any more solo responsibility than that.

Irving: Scenographer, in charge of the overall design of the production. Stressed out 24/7. Keeps absolutely pristine and lovingly detailed piece lists, is very good with the maths for measurements. Seems too uptight for such a creative job, but in actuality is very creative, just also very shy.

Tozer: Master carpenter. He didn’t start as master carp, but his superiors kept leaving and now he has more responsibility than he expected. Outwardly seems like he doesn’t give much of a fuck, but takes pride in his work. Main operator of the power tools; will box your ears if he catches you using them without proper PPE.

Hickey: Just kind of hangs around the scene shop most of the time. Presumably he’s in charge of gluing various bits of wood together, or something. Irving once caught him hooking up with his boyfriend behind the wall of old plywood backgrounds. Later, when Irving has an ‘accident’ one night whilst working late alone in the shop, Hickey is somehow the first on the scene…

Peglar: Master electrician, head of lights and sound. Doesn’t get to do it often, but adores operating the theater’s single spotlight (getting to it involves some climbing that OSHA would not approve of). Can untangle a mass of wires faster than anyone else and knows what each and every one of them goes to. Closest he ever got to performance was dipping his toe into standup comedy (iykyk. sorry honey you fit the type)

Silna: Perennial unwilling house manager, because her family owns the place and her dad always makes her. Basically in charge of the space as a whole. Not a huge fan of her job, but finds some amusement/comfort in getting to sit in the shadows and watch the prod team bicker and make fools of themselves, bc it makes her feel competent in comparison.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.1. how it happened:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 1.2k

➴ author’s note: welcome everyone!! as i promised, here’s the start to our fuck buddies jack ‘n soph series<3 hope u love them as much as i do!

—♡

IT all started as a joke.

Not your career, no, that was very serious. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe how big you’d gotten. Seriously, it was like magic. People now paid to see your concerts, asked to take pictures with you and related to your songs, your situations.

How crazy was that?

But that isn’t the main joke.

It all started a few weeks after the release of your single, Nonsense. You were alone in your home studio, doing some writing and recording a few ad-libs for your new upcoming album— all songs dedicated to your shitty, fucking cheater of an ex, yeah— when Grace, your best friend and manager, barged in with her phone on her hands.

“Jesus,” you said, putting your hand over your heart. “Don’t you know how to knock? You literally scared the shit out of me, dumbass.”

“Knocking is for the weak. Also, I need to show you this. Ain’t no time for knocking.”

She sat on the chair beside you and showed you her phone. It was some kind of TikTok but even if you tried to understand what it was, you couldn’t.

“So?” Grace asked, a huge smile on her face.

“Hum,” you said, sounding uncertain. “Cool video! Are you leaving me for a TikTok career?”

She laughed out loud. “What?! You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” she showed you her phone again. “This, my love, is the New Jersey Devils account.”

“People who praise the devil like my songs? Didn’t see that coming…”

“Sophia, don’t you fucking tell me you don’t know who they are!” Grace furrowed her eyebrows.

“Hum… I do?” You lied.

She made a weird sound, which sounded a lot like a frustrated scream.

“They’re hockey players, they are in the NHL, National Hockey League. And this video alone has three million likes. And why, you ask me, little puppy,” Grace started using her theater kid voice and you rolled your eyes.

“Probably because they’re hot, I don’t know?”

“I thought that too. But then, I went to check the comments, and all of them were talking about your songs. So I watched the video and I realised, half of the team, grown ass men, were listening to your songs!”

Raising your eyebrows in shock, you watched the video again. And Grace was right. It was one of those “what are you listening to?” videos, but with a bunch of men wearing suits. And at least half of them said one of your songs. Mostly Nonsense, Espresso, Read Your Mind, and, shockingly, one of them even said one of your oldest songs.

Apart from that, the video’s caption said “should we make a Sophia Montenegro x NJ Devils collab??” and, to your absolute surprise, more than a half of the comments said “yes, collab, please!”

Which made you laugh. You were used to all sorts of people listening to your music. Kids, teens, adults, even old people sometimes, but hockey players? Those big ass men who liked to beat each other up during the games?

“That’s new, huh.”

“Apparently, people went crazy over the fact that they listen to your songs. And that’s not even the best part,” Grace squirmed. “Their marketing team reached out to your marketing team,” she pointed to herself. “And they asked you to perform at one of their charity dinners next month!”

You both yelled and jumped out of your seats to hug each other and jump around— being careful with her new Goddess braids. You were so grateful to have someone like Grace to help you out.

“This is, like, a huge thing for you, honey,” Grace teared up a little bit. She cried almost every time you got a new job. “They want to set up a meeting with you, nothing too fancy. They said something about the end of the hockey season and whatever that means, they want you in it.”

“That’s awesome, right?” You smiled. “I’m certain that you said yes already but I’m still going to ask you. Did you?”

“Duh, ‘course I did. You have a meeting with,” she looked at her phone again, reading something. “Shanon Anand tomorrow morning.”

“I love you, Grace Morgan.” You whispered, looking at the woman in front of you, your heart feeling full and warm.

“I love you too, Sophia Montenegro. Let’s rock some hockey boys.”

—♡

TURNS out that Shanon Anand is a very beautiful woman, with Indian features and a smile that would make any dentist proud.

“We are very pleased to have you here, Mrs. Montenegro.” She had a bit of an accent and it was so cute.

You smiled. “Thank you. It’s an honor, really. And please, call me Sophia.”

“Alright, Sophia it is,” she smiled back. “So, I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Hockey world but we’re currently walking towards the end of the seven month season.”

“I have to be honest with you, all I know about hockey is that they skate on the ice and beat each other up. That’s about it, I fear.” You felt your face getting warm.

“It’s alright, dear, no one’s going to ask you questions about Power Plays or penalties,” Shanon laughed and you sighed, thankful. Interviews were something you actually enjoyed doing but answering questions you didn’t really know the answer sucked. “We will hold a charity gala next month, and Grace told us you are available?”

“I am, yeah,” you opened your planner, looking at your summer schedule. “I do have to be in California by the second week of April to perform at Coachella but before that, I’m free.”

“You would be needed in the last week of April, on the 30th. Is that okay?”

“I think so, yes,” you nodded. “Do you have a preference for a performance or?”

Shanon grabbed a huge binder and opened it. “Actually, we do have a few requests, I hope you and your team don’t mind them,” you nodded, grabbing a pen just in case you needed to write anything. “First things first, we’d really like it if you kept it all PG,” she smiled, looking embarrassed.

You laughed, nodding with your head. “I expected it already. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep my dirty mouth closed.”

“Perfect, thank you. Besides that, we’d request for at least three songs, and if you could maybe sing an acoustic version of them? It’s a night event and the vibes we’re going for are like, jazz club? Sorry if it sounds confusing, we’re still working on the details.”

“Acoustic? Yeah, ‘course. Do you have any songs in mind?”

“No, we thought it’d be better if you chose them. What suits your voice better and all of that.” Shanon ran her hands through her hair and blinked twice in a row. She looked stunning, but tired.

“Alright, I’ll think of a few options.” You nodded again.

“At the end of it, we’d like to take a picture of you with a Devils jersey, if you don’t mind?” She sounded hopeful.

“I don’t, really. I’m fine with it.”

“Perfect!”

The meeting didn’t last long after that and your mind was working really fast to try to have everything perfect. You still had more than a month to prepare so you knew everything was going to be fine.

At least you hoped so.

[icarusredwings]

Finding home Au things that are canon (because I said so, and it's MY au so I can do whatever I want. Send me headcanons, and I'll approve them)

Gambit just got back from the void so he's just now meeting everyone. He looks a little different from how they remember since their gambit really was never a full team mate and rather then just some guy that helped Logan a couple of times. This being said hes meeting Rouge as a 35 year old linguistics teacher for a bunch of brats, flirting with her in the halls, trying to impress her all the time, etc. He wanted to have a cool class like how to use a Bo staff or tutor energy weilding kids but instead got stuck with sex ed. Because of this, he now makes a ton of jokes to Rouge about it (she's across the hall) but actually is really excited to start his cooking elective class this coming fall when he's considered a real team member.

Ororos heals click in the hall like they did when you were a kid and you could tell the principal is coming. She's almost always with a tea or a coffee, walkie talkie and keys jingling. She's very sweet but kids shit their pants if sent to Mrs. Munroes office, meanwhile Mr. Summers office is a nothing, just a lecture and a slap on the wrist. Aint no one actually scared of lasik because they know thw worst theyll get is community work for a couple of weeks but they ligit cry the second theyre sent to munroe's (especially if they know theyre guilty of a big prank or something)

The school gives out free hygiene products and depending on what you need you can special request it.

If students get too angry they are sent to Piotr's art room for art therapy. He surprisingly is very artistic and chill.

Forges shop class is working on a car with no weight limit and that can handle their heavy hitters (Colossus and Wolverine) both in the same car (most bust) as well as a car made from plastic recycling. They're working on it. Its only blown up once!!

Gambit makes breakfast for the staff and some students of they beg enough. He keeps bringing Rouge the first cup of coffee from the pot and has made her pancakes shaped like hearts multiple times. Watching her stab them and smother them make him... giggle helplessly.

Gambit🤝Watching their love intrests viscously stab and rip apart their meals with a boner wishing it was them🤝Wade

He's very respectful towards her, though and sometimes is a bit (COUGH a lot COUGH) of a kiss ass.

Hank's students have blown up the lab at least 4 times by now. One of those times was Wades fault for touching stuff he wasn't supposed to.

Kurt is very glad that Wade has taken over his Duel weaponry/swordsman class, so now he has time to start working out a pitch for a world's religion class+ sunday school. He still runs a fencing club, though.

Peter (quicksilver) has tried so many different positions, including music teacher of all different instruments. Now he just kinda lounges around in the game room and speed cleans the mansion after each day in like 2 minutes flat. Imagine being paid a full salary just for 2 minutes of work? And you get to live somewhere for free and play games all day? Fuck yeah.

Positions I've been thinking about:

Beast (Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy) is the Vice-Principal, so he does orientation. He has multiple science classes, including biophysics, and has electives in philosophy and poetry.

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin) is an art teacher and handles art therapy

Gambit (Remy LeBeau) runs a sex-ed class and is hoping to soon get approved to run a cooking class next semester.

Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) has a fencing elective as well as a religion class, sunday school, and sometimes helps Morph with drama/theater. (Ex duel weaponry instructor)

Rogue (Anna Marie) is a Linguistics teacher who drabbles in social science. “Diction and Linguistics, with Professor Rogue” She can teach just about any language, but russian/german/ french/ spanish and Japanese are her main ones. She's who you go to if you dont understand English and need help. Almost all foreign students have her.

Cyclops (Scott Summers) is the headmaster. He has classes in Geometry, has an elective for leadership and communications (PFFT) as well as being the schools mobility/disability specialist. He, of course, specializes more with children who have trouble with their eyesight.

Storm (Ororo Munroe) is the Headmistress. She has an Environmental Science and Political Science class as well as a multi cultural elective.

Shadowcat (Katherine "Kitty" Pryde) has a comp-sci class and runs an ethics class.

“Ethics 101: Forgetting Everything You Ever Learned From Emma Frost, with Professor Pryde.”

Wolverine (Logan Howlett) is a(n occasional hand to hand combat/ martial arts) PE instructor. (Ex History teacher)

Jubilee is the schools event organizer, event coordinator, event manager, and more broadly, event professional, the ‘hip’ school counselor. "Activities Director & Counselor"

Morph is the director of drama acting and disguises (duh)

Laura is a graduating student In training under the Wolverine (Gabby is a student and is too young to be an understudy)

Yukio graduating student In training Under Storm or Rouge (I can't decide)

Negasonic teenage warhead (Ellie) graduating student In training under Jean Grey.

Mr. Wade Wilson (Deadpool) Is in training under Colossus. Duel weaponry/ swordsman tactics class instructor (plus whatever Logan's doing, he's very nosey and WILL cause issues if bored)

Jean Grey is an english teacher, has a class on psychology, and drabbles in physics.

Ice man (Bobby) is the school financal advisor/accountant and runs a business elective class.

Forge is a Shop teacher.

Quicksilver (Peter maximoff) Janitor, housekeeping, music teacher, replaced original Logan as PE teacher for a while, target practice, teaches fast kids how to avoid running into walls, always in the game room, stock/ errand boy, gets bored super quickly, sports instructor, Read almost all the books in the library, likes swimming, mainly just lays around waiting for something fun to do, his father causes trouble sometimes which he thinks is entertaining but also hella embaressing.

I'm unfortunately left without a history teacher, so shoot me any ideas :)

[lifesteal-headcanons]

im not dead yippee!

The Perception of ClownPierce is so very interesting to me, because for most people he is the DEADLIEST PLAYER- not by pvp strength any more, but by how he has both that and manipulates situations on the server to his benefit. Many would think hes been "dethroned" by Mane and Flame, but the truth is, he just hasn't.

Back to perception, I think there's 3 main perceptions of clown. 1) DEADLIEST PLAYER on the DEADLIEST SMP Most players (and viewers) see him as this infallible, terrifying demon. This is demonstrated by how some viewers even think he could 2v1 Mane and Flame (he just couldn't). This is his Reputation, and he works hard to keep it intact. Clown speaks in that classic terrifying villain voice, says things like "Are you sure?", and is just generally terrifying.

2) He's really good, yeah The perception of most of the best pvpers on the server (ie Flame, Mane, Minute), where they only think of his power in terms of pvp. They don't think he's overrated, persay, but he isn't all that. An inherent respect, and a healthy amount of fear, but not an understanding of what actually makes him so powerful. ManePear sidenote: Watch his video "I Ruled a Superhero Civilization" (really good) for more on this, but his perception of Clown is actually really funny. Long & short of it is, he looked up to Clown and now with an "official server tierlist" Mane keeps trying to one-up him, his competitive ass thinking they're rivals. Meanwhile, they're on the same fucking team and Clown is just trying to win the event. At the end, Mane wants to 1v1 to "prove he's better" and Clown's just like. "What. I've just taken you under my wing as a student (he's been helping Mane the entire time), we are not rivals." Super funny video, watch it now https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppngGa8eVkg

3) CLOWNPIERCE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH This one is literally just Kab & Branzy, and not even fully Branzy (sorry Clownzy shippers...). They understand Clown- the silly goofy theater kid he is. Both of them respect & fear him, yeah, but there's an inherent trust. Kaboodle describes Clown as "a weirdo who always wants to fight EVERYBODY on the server" (he let people believe he had the mace originally to do this), Branzy is scared of him but in a fun bit way, they goof. Squiddo is getting to this point, once they jump the hurdle of perception 1 (fuck you family win!!!!!)

theres no nice endnote bye

-🫧 anon

.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Congrats on 1200!🥳

I have a prompt for a scene for you!

The Starcourt Mall's parking is one of Eddie's prime places for dealing. One night during a deal, he spots a tired boy in a sailor suit leave the mall and what ensues is a quiet obsession.

Eddie intentionally starts parking his van close to Steve's car until he works up the courage to offer Steve a smoke on a night he looks particulary wound up.

Ahhhh! I just finished this, Idk if this is what you had in mind but I really enjoyed writing this :) I'm realizing I kind of really like answering requests 😂

Eddie’s work schedule was typically very flexible. Some days he would be in the alley behind the local theater. Others he would be at the picnic table. Today was a newer spot, the mall parking lot.

His metal lunch pal was sitting next to him as he constantly eyes the crowd shifting in and out from the main doors. Scouting out the kind of people that showed up.

There were the mothers who were bringing their kids to buy new school clothes, even though the first day back was over a month from now. Along with mothers were grandmothers, and younger women coming in for Jazzercise. The final group that Eddie noticed, that were most likely going to be his prime target, were the hicks. Those who drove in from the countryside, wearing worn out flannel, snap backs and had mullets that put Billy Ray Cyrus to shame.

There was nothing rednecks loved more than their mullets and moonshine, but weed was slowly catching each and every one of their hearts. Soon enough Eddie was sure he was going to have a small cult following from outside of Hawkins.

Eddie is turning the key in his ignition, preparing to head to his next location when he spots him. A sailor who floated right through the ocean of people with ease. His demeanor was tense, and he seemed uncomfortable. Eddie would to if he were wearing those shorts. Especially if he knew people like himself were staring at him.

Eddie can’t help himself, he stops his foot from stepping on the gas and checks out Popeye the Sailor. Little chest hairs were poking out from where the stripe shirt sagged a bit, and holy fuck was Eddie thankful he decided to park ten feet away from the mall instead of thirty. If he had done that then he wouldn’t be seeing this fine seaman right in front of.

This sailor was only confirming Eddie has a certain type. It was one thing to be attracted to Robin Williams and Harrison Ford on TV. That could be a fluke. However, seeing someone who looked like a mix of both in public and immediately falling head over heels was not.

Let the record show that he, Eddie Munson, was obsessed. Not in a stalker kind of way, but in a way he craved to be closer to the other man and was willing to do anything to achieve that.

Alright, that does sound like stalker behavior.

But Eddie knows that he wouldn't go that far. At most, he would park his car next to the other just to get a better look.

When the sailor looks up and makes eye contact with him, Eddie begins to flounder around. Face a slightly red as he tries to remember what he was doing.

Right, he had to be behind the theater to give Hopper his normal deal.

It was a couple of weeks after the first sighting that Eddie finally talked to Steve. After watching the sailor for a while, learning his name from his name tag, he discovered he had a slight routine. Step out around seven pm for a smoke break, sit on the curve in the designated smoke area and then grab something from his car before moving back inside.

Eddie was not stalking. He was just being observant. He had to be in the parking lot anyway, already having a decent amount of paying customers to tend to.

It was just a “coincidence” that he happened to find a empty spot right next to Steves car for three nights in a row. Nothing more.

It was now the fourth night and Steve was finally coming over to grab something from his car. The last three nights, all surrounding the Fourth of July, had been extremely busy. The other man could barely get five minutes to smoke before someone came out to get him.

Eddie had been disappointed, he really wanted to get a close-up of the man. He of course could go into the mall like any other customer but he had duties to fulfill. Such as giving half of the hicks inside their stash. He tried entering the mall once but was almost immediately stopped by one of his customers. He wanted to be discreet about dealing in the parking lot, that would be difficult if people decided to swarm him for their supply right next to the security guards.

Hicks were never that smart.

Now here he was with an opportunity and he was almost fucking it up. Steve had bent down to search for something from his glove box, his ass poking out from the car as he does. Eddie nearly chokes on the joint in his mouth when he sees freckles trailing down the other man's back and down to his ass.

From where he was sitting, his van being taller then Steve’s car, he could catch a small peak into Steve’s pants each time he moved just right. His pants, which looked extremely tight, didn't leave much to the imagination. They would slide an inch or two down before quickly snapping back up when Steve shimmied his hips just right.

Eddie’s sure his mouth was open.

“Fuck!” Steve curses out loudly, slamming the glove box shut with a loud wham! His hands move up to fidget with his hair, that was no longer covered by his hat. He steps away from the car and continues to curse more, clearly stressed.

“Hey man, you alright?” Eddie asks before he could think. He’s always been impulsive.

Steve jumps startled. Looking up to meet Eddie's gaze, his eyes were wide and a little glossy. As if he were close to tears.

“Yeah—yeah. I just forgot my meds.” Steve admits, slowly cooling off. Probably for show as he slams the passenger door shut, still clearly upset even though he was trying to hide it.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows concerned. There wasn't much he could do to help, he felt useless.

“Well uh… do you need a fag?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow, already having his pack of Marlboro out the window and open.

His use of the word held a double meaning, but he doubted Steve would catch on. It was just an inside joke with himself. A play on words.

Steve’s eyes flicker between the cigarettes and Eddie before he reaches forward and snatches one. Moving his hands in his pants pockets causing them to pull down slightly and reveal more of his happy trail. Eddie has to hold back from physically gulping like a cartoon character.

Steve doesn't notice. He lights his smoke with the lighter he pulled out and sucks the smoke into his mouth, his lips a soft pink. His checks slightly pull in and Eddie has way too many suggestive images pop up. His brain is blue screening when Steve flutters his eyes open to look back up at him, his eyelashes dragging beautifully against his cheek bone.

“So, when are you going to make your guest appearance in Scoops, Munson?” Steves's voice is light, teasing. His body moves forward, purposely leaning up against the van door, his shirt pulling down to give Eddie the perfect view of his hairy chest.

“Oh um— I uh— I don't know.” Eddie stammers over his words. His face is a light pink as he tries to discreetly flicker his eyes between Steves's eyes, lips, and chest. He doesn't know how he was going to make it out of this encounter alive.

“Hm- should swing by sometime.” Steve comments, carefully taking another drag from the Marlboro. He releases the smoke from his mouth to meet what was already in Eddie’s van.

“Could give you a discount, or a free scoop to repay you for this,” Steve suggests, carefully showing his fingers that were wrapped around the stick.

God did Eddie wish he could be in its place.

“Oh- I uh.. Don't care. I sort of have to stay out here though. Business you know?” Eddie isn't sure he is even understandable.

Steve’s eyes pinch together with what may be disappointment. It only lasts for a few minutes before he sparks back up.

“Ok- what are your doing after the mall closes?” he asks. He looked like an excited puppy.

“Nothing, just heading home.” Eddie answers truthfully, watching as Steve’s eyes do that thing again before they look around to make sure no one was listening.

“Well, if you're still out here— I could possibly sneak you in to choose your flavor?” Steve suggests. Eddie thinks he might be hinting at something more.

“Oh — yeah, I'll be here.” Eddie stutters out, Blushing as Steve carefully lifts the cigarette from his own mouth up to Eddie’s. A teasing look in his eyes as Eddie carefully wraps his lips around it without thinking.

“Well- see you then.” Steve grins, stepping down from his tip toes as he walks away from the van with purpose. Hips swaying back and forth in a way that makes his shorts pull up to reveal a little more.

If Eddie didn't know better, he thinks Steve was doing it on purpose for him.

If anyone else has any requests, my asks are open :)

[majimatime]

Do What You Want (Roman Roy x Reader)

A/N: I had the idea for this at like 2am right after the newest episode came out, and I finally put it into writing!! This is my first ever Succession fanfiction and of course it had to be about Roman, I adore him this season. (Also, a warning for weird business/power dynamics.)

You sit at a small desk in a poorly lit office in Waystar’s LA office building. There’s an email displayed on your laptop from Joy Palmer, an executive at Waystar’s film production company, and you’ve read it about fifty times now. One more scan won’t hurt.

‘Your CEO terminated my employment over lunch this afternoon. You will be hearing from my legal team shortly.’

As the head of entertainment coverage at ATN, you’ve worked pretty closely with Joy Palmer over the past couple years. Your department reviews all the films that flow through her production company, and you cover (and sometimes attend) the premieres of all their atrocious superhero movies. It’s a fruitful business relationship—that’s just been totally shattered.

You ball your hands into fists and rest your head against them, squeezing your eyes shut. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told you that Roman was meeting with her? Why hadn’t Roman told you? This is just…dumb. It’s so, so dumb.

It’s not like Roman hasn’t come to you about business stuff before—you’re actually pretty close. When you were promoted to the head of entertainment coverage, you were sort of initiated into the inner circle—with the old guard, Tom, the kids, and Logan Roy himself. You were completely and utterly out of your element, attending board meetings, cross-country business deliberations, and all the other fancy shit that comes with the territory. Roman almost instantly latched himself onto you when you entered his sphere, making weird jokes at your expense and then watching attentively for your reaction with those big, expressive eyes. You found all his stupid comments pretty funny, and you liked the way he lit up when you laughed at them, and so a bond was created. Right now, though… He’s taken the stupid thing a bit too far.

Just as you’re about to look back up at your laptop and start drafting an extremely apologetic response, there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah?” you call.

“It’s your boss—open up,” comes a reply from one Roman Roy.

You exhale heavily as an exasperated, slightly amused grin stretches across your face. What exactly is he looking for, coming to you after he royally fucked your job? “Yeah, come in.”

Roman opens the door and steps inside, and Christ, does he look upset. You’re a little taken aback by this; you sort of expected him to be in good spirits, high off the power trip of firing a crucial member of the Waystar machine. In true Roman fashion, he forgoes the chair in front of your desk and sits on the small table across the room, swinging his legs lightly back and forth. “Ken told me where you were holed up,” he explains. His tone is casual enough, but he looks nauseous. “What the hell are you doing in this weird little shitty office anyways?”

You laugh a little, shutting your laptop and folding your hands across the desk. “It’s a pretty normal office, Roman,” you reply, “and it’s one of the furthest points in the building from where your brother’s set up shop. I was working near him for like an hour, but all I could hear was blocking and dialogue planning and set designing…” Roman rolls his eyes, and you grin. “It was like sitting backstage at a community theater rehearsal.”

Roman laughs shortly at that. “Ew. That sounds horrific.”

“Yeah, it was.” Your voice trails off, and the two of you fall into silence. Your eyes are fixed on Roman, but his are bouncing all over the place—from you, to the corner of the room, to his hands that he’s been wringing nonstop since he walked through the door. He’s obviously thinking about the monumental fucking mistake he made earlier, and you certainly are too. “…So. Joy Palmer, huh?”

His demeanor changes instantly, and he snaps his head back like he’s been poised to move this whole time, just waiting for you to bring her up. “Yeah, that was—it’s sad,” he says loudly, uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not cool. But really, it was necessary. She’s not a good fit with what Kendall and I—what we’re trying to do.”

“Huh.” You lean forward a little, ducking your head so he can’t see the scowl that flashes across your face. “…Not a good fit. Okay.” She has everything, really: experience, connections, a willingness to produce shitty movies just to make Waystar more money. Sure, she had been a little shaky recently about Waystar’s politics, but that issue could’ve easily been resolved with a bit more money offered in the right way. But that’s all thrown out the window now, and you hope Roman realizes how bad that is.

You’re not sure he does, so you emphasize it. “I mean, I’ve been kind of working her for the past few months,” you offer, looking up to meet Roman’s gaze. “I know her big issue is dealing with the political side of ATN, which I mean—sure, no one wants to work with the Jeryd Mencken Fan Club. But…in the last week I was actually making some progress with her. There was potential there—“

”There was potential?” You freeze when Roman interrupts you; his voice is low but his tone is venomous. “Okay…” He sucks in air sharply through his gritted teeth, and he glues his gaze to the floor. “I guess—I guess I’m just wondering, what fucking good is potential when she’s sitting there complaining to me across the table about this thing that you’ve apparently worked out already?”

You bite your bottom lip hard and breathe deeply through your nose. “…I don’t know, Roman. So you fire her? That’s the move? You fire her so that we have to get someone else who has less connections, less experience, who is fucking lesser in every way—just because you got mad?”

“Oh my God,” he breathes, jerkily running a hand through his hair, “fuck off. Why are you doing this?” You frown; did he think you were just going to let him off the hook? Congratulate him on his first big independent move as CEO? But then his head sinks into his open palms, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you realize suddenly that that is exactly what he’d expected. Or hoped for. He’s still for just long enough that you get nervous; when you’re about to ask him if he’s alright, though, he raises his head and locks eyes with you.

Your phone dings, and you break eye contact to quickly check the notification. It’s one of your writers; she’s sent you a text about the Joy news, and by the tone of her message, she’s extremely freaked out. When you look back to Roman, he’s still staring at you with that same angry disappointment—disappointment that you won’t just lay down and tell him he did the right thing. “Listen, Roman,” you begin, holding his gaze, “it’s my job too. I mean you’re the new CEO, you’re fuckin’ stretching your legs—good for you. But if we lose the movie side of our operation for a while because of this… That’s abysmal for me.”

His eyes widen a little, and you’re shocked to see, for just a second, an apology forming at his lips—but before he can finish mouthing “sorry” he stops, pressing his mouth into a hard line. He stares down with furrowed eyebrows at his hands, lightly clasped together in his lap, and he’s silent for a long time. As you watch him, he takes a deep, labored breath. “Well, in that case…” He’s barely audible. “Why don’t I just fire you too? Since you failed to convince a chief executive to stick with the company and tanked your department.”

The shocked grin that pops onto your face is completely involuntary, and you breathe an exasperated, “Oh my God.” You turn away and shake your head, taking a steady breath. What the fuck’s gotten into him? You’ve already seen that he’s not afraid to make horrific business decisions; firing you would come as easily to him as breathing right now. But you’re not going to beg Roman Roy, your only friend in this morally bankrupt circus, for your job. You refuse to. So, you fold your hands across your desk, and you reply as evenly as you can. “Technically, Roman, you don’t fire me. Tom Wambsgans does.”

He raises his eyebrows, and you can practically hear the “um, actually” before he even opens his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” you continue, smiling ruefully, “you can just fire Tom, and fucking—eat him alive and become him, and then… You can do whatever you want with me, right?” This has almost become amusing; you feel a weird compulsion to laugh.

That feeling vanishes when you see the look on Roman’s face. It’s like you flipped a switch; his gaze instantly disconnects from yours and he looks straight down like he’s trying to stare a hole through his shoe. You frown a little as you peer over at him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s thinking, when you fully realize what you just said. It’s an invitation, a statement more intimate than anything you’ve ever said to each other before, and he knows it. Roman slowly stands up from his seat and you watch him, look closely at the expression on his face—and the darkness in his eyes confirms your thoughts. It’s not like you’ve never thought about him in that way; frankly, he’s the only human connection you’ve made since you started at Waystar. You’ve often wondered (or perhaps hoped) if he was ever going to make a move on you, and a long time ago, you decided that if he ever did, you’d reciprocate it. You’re going to do just that. He wants a win, and you want him—everyone gets what they need.

He takes a few measured steps towards you and you feel yourself lean just a bit closer to him; just as you’re about to stand, he bends down, snakes his arms around your waist, and practically yanks you up to meet him. With a forcefulness that you’ve never, ever seen him display, he kisses you, disregarding gentleness and letting everything run on pure, unfiltered instinct. Your hands quickly find him, and you place one firmly against his cheek while the other slides through his hair. He holds on for a bit longer, trying to put as much as possible into that first, fantastic kiss, and then he has to pull away.

As you part, both reeling, he whispers, “Say that again.” When you don’t respond—you’re still catching your breath—he mumbles, “Please. Please say it.”

You’re more than happy to oblige him, and you stare right into his dark eyes as you speak. “You can do whatever you want with me, Roman.” Your words coax a full body shudder from him, and his lips are right back on yours, hands running over every part of your body they can access. His fingers skirt under the hem of your shirt and there’s a loud fucking knock at the door—and you both freeze exactly where you are.

It’s Kendall. Great. “Hey Rome, I saw you come in here, buddy. Uh—we’re, uh, crunching some big ass numbers out here, and I would love to have your eyes on these maximizations to the user-facing stock plane.”

“What the fuck does that mean…?” you breathe, and a short, high-pitched laugh escapes Roman.

As you both try to suppress your laughter beneath wide grins, Kendall calls, “What was that, bro?”

Roman quickly clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec, Ken.”

“Cool. Fantastic.” And you and Roman both stand there, listening to his footsteps as they grow fainter and more distant.

The rush of the moment has faded severely, and even though you acknowledge how fucking amazing that felt and would like nothing more than to continue, you know it’s not the most practical thing to do. “…You should probably head out there, right? Make sure he doesn’t just start making up figures?”

Roman snorts as he untangles himself from you. “Yeah, he would do that, wouldn’t he?” He stands before you, looking wonderfully disheveled, and you reach out to fix his collar and smooth his hair.

He practically melts under your touch as you comb through his hair with your fingers. You half expect him to kiss you again, but it seems the tension was sucked out of the room by Kendall and his corporate bullshit speak. You wish he would kiss you again. After one last sweep of his hair, you propel yourself forward and kiss him gently, sweetly; he kisses back, but he makes no attempt to move closer to you, so you take a step forward and close the gap.

“…I’m fucking this up,” he mutters, quiet and dejected, after you part. “I’m doing it all wrong and I’m being stupid.”

He’s not necessarily wrong; you try to ignore that thought as he turns and walks to the door. “Just take care of your brother,” you say with a little smile, and he gives a muted grin and a thumbs up back.

He’s so bad at this and he’s so sad. You sit back down and crack open your laptop, and within seconds about thirty emails flood into your inbox—it’s Joy’s legal team, just like she promised. You groan, and lean back, and try to get your mind off the feeling of Roman’s lips on yours so you can draft a decent apology.