#cou plaining

[magnetichollowed]

RQG 208

Holy shit

I had apparently stopped at the episode before they boarded the Vengence on the original listen while the episodes were being released, probably 161

idk I've been relistening to the entire thing in like 2 weeks and

Holy shit

[icedcoffeecryptid]

woke up to find that if put these on my whatsapp status last night:

00:19 - this is why i have to have a bed time like a ten year old because when i am left to my own devices i apparently make cous cous, except somehow i fucked up something as simple as that and it is utterly rank. now i feel ill and i still can’t sleep. truely in my element 💪

00:20 - *screenshot of the “we drove 1000 miles to eat this burger” video* at least we’ve got jack manifold to get us through this tough time 🙏🙏 (please god help me oh my god)

00:25 - lesson learnt: definetly do not drink tea with it. terrible idea.

00:27 - on a whole, i would rate this experience a 1/10 stars, wouldn’t recommend this to a friend or anyone for that matter unless they have the supplies available to make actual cous cous salad, if so, go nuts 👌

00:30 - despite this, i am continuing to eat said cous cous as i made too much and now it just feels like a waste.

00:32 - mission aborted, started to make my mouth dry? this is a very weird experience that has somehow led me to somehow be more awake?

i may as we’ll just take up smoking weed at night because the shit i end up doing, may as well be bloody high, there is also now cous cous all over my oven

[romugh]

SENSUAL UNRAVELING- NR

pairing- avenger!natasha romanoff x gp!avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!gp!natasha, fleshlight use, blowie (n rcv), oral play (fingers; r rcv), slight humiliation, praiseee, i think that's it? :o nerdy'ish'!avenger!nat is my favourite i think guys

wc- 4.8k!

a/n- PART ONE [out of 2 for now; 2nd part out oct, 5th (kinktober list here)] requested! thanks for that, anon, loved writing it :p

request- hey, for nerdnatasha, i was thinking about yn gives a gift to natasha, that it was a fleshlight for when she misses her. So one day natasha was using it because she was feeling horny and yn caught her but she doesnt know, because yn was watching her and wanted to know if she could last enough time or if she would cum as fast as she does with her. and after that you could write whatever you want.

synopsis- you give natasha a gift, end up catching her trying to use it, and help her out.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @esposadejoyhuerta (feel free to shoot me a dm or comment to be added to my general/specific taglist!)

It had been a rare moment of peace—a quiet night off after days of non-stop missions, a time for you and Natasha to actually relax. You found yourselves in the comfort of your shared room in the compound, with no looming threats or world-ending emergencies. Natasha was nestled on the bed, her glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose, engrossed in a book. The sight never failed to stir something warm in your chest. She was so different from the image the world had of her—the fearless Avenger, the Black Widow.

To everyone else, she was a force to be reckoned with, the epitome of confidence and skill. The rest of the Avengers saw her as unshakable, always maintaining that sharp edge, even in the rare moments when she let her guard down. Sure, they’d seen her be softer around you, maybe even affectionate, but never like this—never this open, never vulnerable. This side of Natasha was reserved only for you.

You crawled onto the bed beside her, watching her for a moment, unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at your lips. “Hi, Natty,” you said, breaking the silence.

You set a small, plain box down beside her. “Got you something,” you said casually, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Natasha blinked, glancing up at you and then down at the box, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s this?” she asked, already wary of your playful tone.

“Just a little something for when you miss me,” you said with a teasing smile, leaning back against the headboard as you watched her reach for the box.

Natasha set her book aside carefully, her fingers hesitating over the lid of the box for a second before she flipped it open. The moment her eyes landed on the fleshlight inside, her entire face turned beet red. Her hand froze mid-air, and she looked up at you in pure shock, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“I—” she spluttered, her cheeks bright red. “I... What is this?”

Her voice cracked slightly, and you had to bite back a laugh. The poor Avenger looked scandalised, staring down at the fleshlight as if it were some alien object. You knew, even at her most relaxed, Natasha always carried herself with an unbreakable facade around her teammates. They’d never seen her like this—completely disarmed, flustered, and shy. Only you ever got to witness this side of her, the part of her that wasn’t the world’s greatest spy or assassin, but just your Natty.

“Exactly what it looks like, sweet angel,” you said, grinning as you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for when I’m not around.”

Natasha’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting between the toy and you, completely flustered. She looked as if she were about to explode from embarrassment. Her hands fumbled with the box, and she quickly tried to push it away from her, glaring at you with wide, mortified eyes.

“You can’t just give me... this!” she squeaked, her voice rising in pitch. “It’s—it’s indecent!”

Now you couldn’t help but chuckle. The way she was trying to scold you, still holding the fleshlight awkwardly in her hands, only made her look even more adorable. She huffed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, which had gone as red as her cheeks.

“I thought it was a pretty thoughtful gift,” you teased, your grin widening. “You know, for those moments when I’m not around to... help you out.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her brain clearly scrambling for a response. She shook her head, still holding the toy like it might burn her. “I don’t—You can’t expect me to use this!” she stammered, her voice dropping in embarrassment.

This side of Natasha—the shy, blushing woman unsure of how to handle intimacy—was something no one else could ever imagine. To the world, she was known for her strength and control, the embodiment of confidence. But with you, things were different. Your relationship was still new, though the feelings between you had been simmering beneath the surface for some time. Natasha had only recently mustered the courage to ask you out, stepping out of her comfort zone. Initially, she had tried to maintain her tough facade, but it didn’t take long for her to realise that you had already seen her softer, vulnerable side during your friendship. With you, she didn’t need to pretend. She wasn’t Black Widow, the skilled seductress; she was simply Nat, unpracticed and a little unsure when it came to intimacy for her own sake.

You leaned in, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, you’ll grow to love it," you murmured confidently.

She shot you a wide-eyed glare, but the effect was ruined by the way she couldn’t seem to stop blushing. “I will not!” she protested, though it came out far less convincing than she intended.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her flustered state. “We’ll see about that.”

Natasha shook her head, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but her hands kept betraying her. She was still holding the fleshlight, inspecting it nervously as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I wouldn’t even know how to...” She trailed off, cheeks practically glowing.

You softened, realising that this was still new territory for her. Natasha’s experience with her own body had always been limited, and when she had used it, it was only as a tool for her missions—nothing more. Pleasure was an entirely different concept. She had told you once, with a mixture of shyness and honesty, that she had never really thought of her body that way before meeting you.

But you were patient with her. Always.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “That’s okay, baby. You’ll figure it out.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her breath hitching at your touch. She glanced back down at the toy, still overwhelmed by the idea. “But... I’d rather have you,” she admitted softly, her voice so innocent it made your chest tighten with affection.

You tilted her chin up gently, making her meet your gaze again. Her wide eyes were still filled with embarrassment, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too.

“And you will,” you reassured her, brushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face. “This is just for when I’m not around to take care of you.” You leaned in closer, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Think of it as practice.”

Natasha’s blush deepened even more at that, and she fumbled with the toy again, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I... I don’t think I need this kind of practice,” she mumbled under her breath, trying once again to push the box back towards you, but you could see the way her curiosity was slowly getting the better of her.

You chuckled softly, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You say that now, but trust me—once you get used to it, you’re going to love it.”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...”

“Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

She shot you a withering look, but there was no hiding the fact that she was fighting a smile. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the box, her eyes flicking back to the toy with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

“You’re terrible,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe, but you���ll thank me later.”

Despite her embarrassment, there was no denying she was curious. You knew her well enough to understand that her inexperience and uncertainty just needed a little nudge—and you were more than happy to give it.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

It had been a long two weeks away on a mission, and your days were consumed by a flurry of burner phones, quick, coded messages, and just a few stolen moments of communication with Natasha. Calls had been scarce—limited to one every three days due to the high-risk nature of the mission. Whenever you spoke, Natasha’s voice had been warm but slightly strained, trying to keep her usual composed tone, though you could hear the subtle edges of worry creeping in. She had missed you, even if she wouldn’t outright say it. The way her voice would catch slightly when she asked, “You’re safe, right?” gave her away every time. She wasn’t used to missing anyone—not in this way.

And truth be told, you missed her just as much. Every message she sent—brief and seemingly innocent little texts like “Just thinking of you” or “Hope everything’s going okay”—made you smile. You knew they were more than they seemed. You could almost picture her sitting in your room, wearing your shirt, her glasses perched on her nose, probably curled up on your bed or buried in a pile of paperwork, trying to distract herself from the fact that you weren’t there.

But now, after those long two weeks, the mission was done, and all you could think about was getting home. The thought of seeing Natasha again, hearing her voice without the distortion of a bad connection, touching her after what felt like forever—it had kept you grounded through every challenge and fight. You imagined how her face would light up, how she’d probably try to hide that small, relieved smile she got whenever you returned from missions safe and sound.

As the lift doors slid open, you stepped onto the shared floor of the Avengers Compound, letting out a sigh of relief. The space was quiet—eerily so—considering you expected Natasha to be in her usual spot on the couch, her legs tucked under her, probably with a book in hand. It was her routine. Whenever you returned, she’d be there waiting, pretending she wasn’t counting the minutes until your arrival. She’d look up casually, as if she hadn’t been thinking about you the entire time.

But today? Nothing.

You furrowed your brow as you dropped your bag by the door, your eyes scanning the empty space. “Nat?” you called softly, half expecting her to pop up from somewhere in the apartment, maybe having gotten caught up in something in the kitchen or the bathroom.

No answer.

Your stomach twisted slightly, a brief flicker of disappointment settling in. Maybe she was out with the team, or training in the gym. It wasn’t like her to not be here when you came back, but you tried to push the thought aside. She could have been anywhere in the compound, after all.

Faintly, though, you heard something else—a soft noise, so quiet that if the apartment wasn’t this silent, you might’ve missed it. Your curiosity piqued, and you followed the sound down the hallway towards your bedroom, heart racing in anticipation. As you approached, the noise became clearer. Ragged breathing. A few soft gasps. And then your name, whispered so delicately it made your pulse quicken.

You froze just outside the door, heat already building in your chest. Natasha’s voice was unmistakable, but it was the tone—the need in it—that sent a wave of heat coursing through you. With a mixture of excitement and pride, you realised exactly what was happening.

Slowly, you inched the door open, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. There, on the bed, was Natasha. Your Natasha. She was sitting up against the headboard, her shirt bunched up around her waist. Her hair was tousled, and her glasses—those adorable glasses—were still perched on her nose, slightly fogged from her body heat, smudged, and slightly askew, as if she’d tried to adjust them earlier. The fleshlight was clutched in her hand, and she was trying, desperately trying, to use it. But the sight before you was more than just arousing—it was endearing in a way only Natasha could pull off.

Her movements were awkward, hesitant, and her face was flushed with a mix of frustration and desire. You could see it in the way they were clumsy, uncoordinated—she didn’t know how to use it properly. Her brow was furrowed in frustration, and her breath came in short, needy gasps. Her hips stuttered as she awkwardly thrust into the toy, but it wasn’t enough.

Natasha bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to work the toy over herself. But you could see it wasn’t working. Her hips stuttered, and her breath hitched, but there was no rhythm, no real pleasure in what she was doing. You knew why. Natasha had never been good at pleasing herself. She needed you—your touch, your guidance. Without it, she was lost. 

Her whimpers filled the air, soft and needy, as she tried to imagine it was your touch, your body. But it wasn’t. The toy couldn’t replicate the warmth of your hand, the slickness of your fingers, the way you knew exactly how to take her apart.

For all her skills as an Avenger, Natasha was unpracticed in this realm. She had never had to learn how to bring herself pleasure before you entered her life. She was still learning—still new to the idea that her body was hers, that it could bring joy and intimacy instead of just completing a task. You’d been patient with her, guiding her through these moments, helping her understand that she could be vulnerable, open, even needy, and it was okay. But now, you stood in the doorway, watching, knowing that she was trying to fill that space without you. The soft gasps escaping her lips, the quiet, frustrated whimpers—she was trying, but it wasn’t working. 

The pride in your chest swelled. Natasha had never needed anyone like this before. She had been fine for years on her own, never relying on anyone emotionally, let alone for pleasure. But now? Now she was here, lost without you, and the sight of her in this state—glasses fogged up, brow furrowed in frustration as she chased a release she couldn’t quite reach—was enough to make your heart race.

You watched, your heart pounding with a mix of arousal and affection. She was so desperate, so needy, and yet she had no idea what to do without your control.

You pushed yourself off the doorframe, a small smile playing on your lips as you approached her. “You know,” you said casually, breaking the silence and causing her to freeze, “you could’ve just told me when we called two days ago.”

Natasha’s entire body jolted, and her head whipped around to face you, eyes wide with shock. The toy slipped from her grasp as her hands flew to cover herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.

“Wha—” she spluttered, clearly mortified, her voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Her glasses had slipped down, askew, fogging up even more from the heat of the moment. “You-You’re home early!”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you took a few more steps into the room, feigning innocence. “Am I? Or am I right on time?”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed at being caught. She tried to pull the sheets up over herself, but her hands were trembling too much to do so properly.

“You didn’t have to do it all on your own, you know,” you teased, your voice soft but dripping with amusement. “I’m just a phone call away, remember? Isn’t that what I said when I gave you that thing?”

Her blush deepened, and she turned her head away, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. But you caught the embarrassment in her eyes, the slight frustration as well, as if she’d been trying so hard and just couldn’t get herself there.

You took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed, your tone softening. “You tried, huh?”

Natasha swallowed hard, still refusing to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed. “I... I didn’t know it would be... like this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?” you asked, your voice soft now, coaxing.

She bit her lip, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s... different without you,” she confessed, her voice so small and unsure that it tugged at your heart. “I didn’t know it would feel so... empty.”

You felt a surge of affection for her in that moment. For the Avenger who could take down armies, outwit anyone, and yet here she was, vulnerable and flustered, struggling with something so deeply personal. No one else in the world would ever see this side of her, and that made it all the more precious to you.

“Well,” you said, reaching out to gently tilt her chin up so she could finally meet your eyes. “Good thing I’m home now, huh?”

You could see the mix of anticipation and nervousness flicker across Natasha’s face as she sat there, her body still flushed from the earlier attempt. Her breath was still shallow, and her glasses had slipped slightly down her nose, a subtle reminder of how overwhelmed she had been. You took a deep breath, the moment charged with a heady combination of tension and affection. “Close your eyes for me, Natty,” you said softly, your voice a warm caress. “I want you to just feel, okay?”

Natasha hesitated for only a moment, but the trust she had in you made her comply. Slowly, she let her eyelids flutter shut, her body relaxing ever so slightly as she surrendered herself to you.

You reached for the discarded toy, holding it up between the two of you. “So,” you began, your voice teasing but soft, “I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes remaining tightly shut, just as you had asked. Though she couldn’t see the toy, you could feel the way her body reacted—still flustered, still embarrassed, but with a spark of curiosity that had driven her to try in the first place. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

You smiled, the warmth in your expression making her heart flutter even though her eyes stayed closed. “Good girl,” you praised softly, and the words sent a shiver down her spine. Her body tensed, but not from fear—rather, from the anticipation of what was to come. You could see the way her breath quickened, the way her hands trembled slightly as you moved closer.

Gently, you guided her back against the headboard, your fingers trailing down her arm as you coaxed her to relax. “First,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing, “you have to be patient. Let yourself feel every little touch. Don’t rush.” Natasha nodded, biting her lip as she tried to focus on your words, but it was clear that she was still nervous, still unsure.

You could feel her tension, the way her muscles were wound tight from the anticipation. But you were in no rush. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned down, your lips brushing against her neck as you murmured, “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your hand slipped down to her thigh, your touch firm but gentle as you parted her legs, creating space between them. Natasha’s breath hitched, her body responding instinctively to your touch. She was still embarrassed, still blushing furiously, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into you, her body seeking comfort in your closeness.

Carefully, you positioned the fleshlight, your fingers wrapping around its base as you guided it toward her. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes fluttering open slightly as she braced herself for the sensation. Her breath came in soft, shaky gasps as you slowly eased the toy over her length, your movements deliberate and controlled. You could feel her body tense, her hips instinctively bucking slightly as she tried to adjust to the sensation.

“Shhh, easy,” you murmured, your hand gently pressing against her hip to steady her. “Let me do the work.”

Natasha whimpered softly, her breath hitching as you began to move the toy, your strokes slow and rhythmic. Her body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the way her muscles quivered with every gentle glide of the toy. It wasn’t long before her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white as she tried to hold back the moans that threatened to escape.

“You feel that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued the slow, deliberate movements. “That’s what you’ve been missing.”

Natasha’s response was a shaky nod, her lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath. She was still so shy, so uncertain, but you could see the way her body was responding to the pleasure, the way her hips bucked ever so slightly in time with your movements. She was learning—slowly, but surely—and the sight of her in this state, so vulnerable and needy, made your heart swell with affection.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with praise. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The sound of your voice seemed to soothe her, and slowly, Natasha’s body began to relax. Her whimpers turned to soft moans, her head falling back against the headboard as she surrendered to the pleasure. You could see the way her body responded to your every touch, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, “I love seeing you like this.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your words, and she moaned softly, her hips jerking involuntarily as the pleasure began to build. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge of release.

And then, with one final, deliberate stroke, you pushed her over the edge.

Natasha’s moan was loud and unrestrained, her body arching off the bed as she came, her release crashing over her like a wave. You held her through it, your hand gentle but firm as you continued the slow, rhythmic movements, guiding her through every shudder, every tremor of pleasure.

When it was over, you discarded the toy to the side as Natasha collapsed back against the headboard, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her glasses had slipped down her nose again, but she made no move to fix them. Instead, she lay there, completely spent, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you gently wrapped your hand around her still semi-hard cock. “See?” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. “Told you you’d love it.”

Natasha let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks still flushed from the intensity of it all. “You were right,” she admitted softly, her voice hoarse with pleasure. “I guess I owe you a thank you.”

You hummed softly, stroking her with care, feeling the way her body reacted to even the gentlest touch. “Mmm, you do,” you teased, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. Natasha’s breathing hitched, her body still hyper-sensitive from the release. “But first, let me clean you up, Natty.”

Her gaze flickered down toward her softening cock, still glistening with her own release, and you saw the way her face flushed in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “No need to be shy, baby. You did so well for me.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her blush deepening, but she nodded. She always got a little embarrassed after, unsure of herself. But you were never in a rush, and you wanted her to feel cared for. You kissed your way down her body, your lips ghosting over the planes of her chest, across her stomach, until you reached her cock.

The moment your lips brushed the tip, Natasha’s entire body shuddered. “Wait—” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m... still sensitive.”

“I know,” you replied softly, kissing the underside of her cock, your tongue teasing the slit just enough to make her whimper. “But I want to make sure you’re clean, okay? Just relax for me.”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her legs trembling as she tried to hold still. You were gentle, your tongue tracing along the shaft, cleaning the lingering slickness with slow, deliberate strokes. Natasha’s fingers dug into the sheets, her breath ragged as her body tried to process the mix of overstimulation and pleasure.

“Shh, baby,” you cooed softly, your tongue flicking over her again. “You’re so good for me. You can take it.”

She moaned softly in response, her hips jerking slightly, though she did her best to stay still. You felt her cock begin to twitch in your hand, and you grinned up at her, watching her as she tried to hold back the sensations overwhelming her.

As you continued, your hand slid up, brushing her lips with your fingers. “Open,” you commanded softly, your voice gentle but firm. Natasha hesitated for only a moment before parting her lips obediently, allowing you to slide two fingers inside her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tongue immediately lapping at your fingers.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing as you continued to clean her shaft, making sure not a single drop of her release was left behind. Your tongue moved with purpose, licking and slurping her clean, all while your gaze stayed fixed on her. The sight of her lips wrapped around your fingers made your heart race. “Such a good girl,” you whispered, the words slipping out like a soft caress, watching the way she responded to every touch, the way your warm breath contrasted her cold, damp cock.

Her moans were muffled by your fingers, but you could feel the vibrations as she sucked on them, her lips quivering with each gentle motion. You could see the way she was still sensitive, overstimulated but completely surrendering to you. Slowly, you added a third finger, watching the way her mouth stretched to accommodate them. You pressed against her tongue, feeling her throat constricting as she tried to adjust. Natasha whimpered around your fingers, her eyes squeezed shut, but she didn’t stop.

“Good job, baby, look at you take all three for me,” you whispered, your voice soothing as your fingers kept pressing gently against her tongue. “You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body quivering, but she nodded, determined to please you. She took your fingers deeper, her lips closing around them fully, and you could see the way she was giving herself over to you completely.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over her cheek as she sucked on your fingers, her moans soft and needy. “You look so beautiful like this.”

Natasha moaned again, her body trembling beneath you, her cock twitching in your hand as you slowly stroked it, relishing the way she reacted to your touch. Having cleaned her thoroughly, you now took her completely in your mouth, intent on keeping her pristine and ready for what was to come. You could feel her release building, evident in the way her hips jerked in small, involuntary movements, and you knew she was close. Your careful, deliberate movements brought her right back to the edge, and you were determined to swallow every drop.

You kept her in place, your fingers pressing deep into her mouth, feeling the slight gag and the way her throat kept constricting around you. Her entire body quivered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, her release pouring into your mouth as you took everything, not letting a single drop escape.

When she finally came down, her body slumping back into the bed, utterly spent, you withdrew your fingers gently, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, and her glasses, now completely fogged, sat crooked on her nose.

“There,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All clean.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips. “Perfect,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Natasha blinked up at you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but also something else—a deep sense of trust and surrender. “You didn’t have to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but you heard the emotion behind it.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Besides, you’re mine to take care of.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with affection as she sank deeper into the bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and content.

You kissed her again, slow and tender, as she relaxed fully into you, the taste of herself lingering on your lips and in your mouth grounding her in the moment. “No need to thank me,” you murmured against her soft lips. “You deserve all of this.”

[angelwhisp3rs]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ man like me

Pairing: RE!2 Leon x fem!reader

Summary: Leon has gone through so much training, life always made it look like he didn't luck out. Always the butt of the joke, he questioned if he would ever be a man. His partner seems to think he is man enough for her <3

Tags: Smut; bj; he cums in her face; slight sub!leon; leon gets called a fairy because he is not considered a "macho man" (i hate m*n)

Notes: First post! I'm so excited, i've been brainrotting for RE for years, and just now decided to add to the community. Love you all! Feel free to give me any tips for my writing or some prompts!

Also, please! If you are a minor, i don't feel comfortable with you interacting with my content, so no minors allowed ok?

Have you ever felt like you weren’t blessed? Well, Leon felt that every day of his life. His parents dying, his rough childhood in the orphanage, he had to work twice as harder than anyone of his peers to achieve anything. Now, as a cop, he believed that this was all in the past - he chose the manliest job of them all.

Oh, well. Turns out that stations were just an adult hangout spot for jocks that never grew out of their high school days.

The women would coo at him, calling him cute and adorable, while the older officers would sneak some comments about him being a “fairy”. Fucking idiots. 

After some months working with them, Leon managed to gain at least some respect among his colleagues - he was a great cop after all, and he even managed to tone down some of the ridiculous teasing (and plain homophobia, if you ask him). 

To the surprise of everyone there, a new recruit would be coming in, making Leon celebrate a little on the inside - maybe it would be his chance to stop being the butt of the joke and finally laugh along with the rest, not being the one laughed at.

He couldn't wait to finally turn his luck around.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Turns out he is wrong. Of course things wouldn’t go his way once. The rookie was a girl - well, a woman, and a pretty one at that. 

The men there went ballistic. The single, desperate for attention, and the married, aching for an affair. Used to the calm and pliant women in the precinct, the men didn’t wait for even 5 minutes to let out their disgusting comments, calling her a hot piece of their ass, some even suggesting that they could ‘teach her’ the ways around there.

They were so wrong. Cutting their comments short, she looked at them in disgust, and distributed answers that put them back into their places. Hell, she even dared to ask how the deputy’s wife wasn't arrested for animal cruelty for sleeping with a pig like him.

Leon looked at her with stars in his eyes - she was different from him after all, not letting those idiots run through her. The bigoted idiots decided that as a “punishment” to her, she would be his new partner, matching their work hours and patrolling together. That fact made him excited, but not for long. Unfortunately, his intrusive thoughts began swarming his head: “Do you really think she won’t make fun of you?” and “A woman like her would eat up a man like you”.

The only thing he could do was stand a hand to her, offering a handshake “Hi there, partner. I’m Leon Kennedy”.

She had a predatory smirk on her face, looking at him up and down. “Hi, Leon. I think we’re gonna be great partners”.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

When Leon thought she would eat up a guy like him, he didn’t think it would be like that. It was way after the time they had to clock out, and they were the only ones left in the station. Leon was backed up in the evidence room, his pants on the floor as her mouth worked around his cock, drenching it with her spit. The only sounds heard were the man trying to drone out his moans with his hand on his mouth, and her gagging as she took him as deep as she could in her throat.

To Leon, this had to be a dream - no way that would ever happen. But as he looked down, her sinful eyes looking up at him, he knew that he couldn’t even dream of something as good as this. He had to be careful not to knock out the evidence in the surrounding files, choosing to rest his hand on her ponytail - quite convenient for the situation.

“You are doing so well, baby. Why don’t you come in my face, and show them that you are the only man able to do that, huh?” She taunted him as she kept pumping his cock his her hands, slick with her saliva and the precum that drooled on his tip

Her mouth returned to his member as she kept her hands going, thriving at his blushing face and his desperate whines. The man was going crazy, it’s been so long since something other than his hand touched his cock, that the 8 minutes of her mouth - which he believed to be 30, were enough to bring him to the edge. Soon, her mouth pulls back as she jerks him faster, angling at her face as he coats it with his pearly cum, hitting her cheeks, mouth and chin.

While he believed that his soul had left his body and come back, she stood up and grabbed some tissues there to clean her face. All cleaned up, she helped him put his pants back on and pressed some kisses to his jaw, whispering to his ear “Why don’t you come over to my place and show my cunt who is the only man to fill it up?”. After that, she left the evidence room with a smirk, looking back at him once and throwing a wink at him.

Well, it turns out that luck was a person, and it finally caught up to him.

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 3. Strengthen what they would prohibit

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: just a bit of smut

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine​ @localravenclaw​

Laws to suppress tend to strengthen what they would prohibit. — Bene Gesserit Coda

Sleeping was sweet. At some point indistinguishable from oblivion she became aware of not being aware of being asleep, but she wasn’t ready to wake up yet. The tendrils of her mind touched only shyly the membrane on the other side of which reality was waiting. And even though her feet were cold and her head felt heavy, she felt as though she was floating in the air, held by some invisible force in perfect safety.

A sense of urgency tugged at her, and with reluctance she let herself be pulled. Gradually she realised that her neck hurt from the awkward pose she’d fallen asleep in. That she was sitting on the floor, her legs curled under her and stiff. That his hands were feeling up her body.

Her eyes opened to the sight of her new master sitting on his knees before her. Feyd was still completely naked, and his body dared to have a rosy flush from sleep across his pale white skin. He held a knife to her, slicing through her shift to part it from her body, smiling as if he was opening a gift. He paused at her chest and slid his hand across her skin — the one that wasn’t holding the blade, mercifully — and gently cupped her breast, holding it in such a way that her nipple was caught between his index and his thumb. A practised hand. She reacted before her body rebelled and responded to him.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, and in one motion she slapped his groping hand away and gripped the knife out of the other.

He looked at her in excitement for a moment, or perhaps his mind had not caught up to things and was still tasting her body. She flung the blade away before she could find out which. Feyd pouted like a spoiled brat.

“Yesterday, you agreed that —”

“I’m a Bene Gesserit, not a concubine,” she said as she pulled the tatters of the shift around her and moved further away.

Feyd was still processing the novel information that there was a difference when he got up to his feet. She busied herself with her ruined clothes and tried to ignore that his cock was right in front of her. He looked down and seemed a few times to want to say something, or ask, but then his mind was made up and he walked right past her. Oh, he just went to pick up his blade.

She took this opening to move away and gathered up her clothes.

“Won’t you dress me?” he asked, turning to her with a puzzled expression.

“No,” she said, plain as can be, and slipped into the washroom. She only caught him muttering something about her being useless as she shut the door.

He was gone by the time she came out again.

It crossed her mind that she might have hurt his feelings. After all, he can’t have been used to women slapping his attention away like that. He’d even been fairly considerate, for a Harkonnen. No blood drawn.

But in hindsight, she recognised her instincts were correct. She was the kind of toy he’d never had before. Nobody had ever treated him that way, and now he was going to spend the whole day trying to understand his own emotions, spilling his poison on the other staff no doubt.

She walked through the palace with newfound confidence, and even when eyes turned to her, followed her quick steps and the flowing of her gown, nobody dared question her. Quite efficient in communications, these Harkonnen. They already know who I am, she thought with reserved admiration.

Her first stop was the laundry to replace her ruined clothes and get a couple more. She would need them, living with Feyd-Rautha, it seemed. She ate later, quickly and in the most unassuming part of the canteen. Arrakeen gruel with a Harkonnen twist, dry and oily with a sprinkling of melange on top. It stuck in her throat and there was only cactus juice to wash it down with.

It was only during her noon meditations, on a lonely rock outside the southern wing, that the impact of everything that happened finally came upon her. She shivered terribly, felt tears bead at the corners of her eyes, and breathed deeply to steady her pulse. Fear had passed through her, and death, and she was still left standing. It was a very precise part she had to play, and for all her training and prescience, the spice could only show her certain futures.

Rejecting his touches had been the right choice. Refusing to look at his body had been the right choice too. She teased both him and herself, and the natural energies that flowed between men and women would do half the work for her, especially with such an excitable specimen as Feyd-Rautha to work with. Now all she needed to do was reward him.

She thought back to his nightmares, those twitches and struggles in the dark, alone, and she remembered the instincts of her body: to hold him, to comfort him, to feel his naked skin on hers and let them melt into each other. She smiled, thankful for the infinite genetic wisdom, guiding her path through this most dangerous of circumstances, because now she knew exactly what Feyd wanted.

“Terra firma,” she said to herself. “Something firm and unyielding. Capable of giving him both punishment and pleasure.”

She waited for him in his chambers by the window, sewing that morning’s ruined shift. Her mind was split between that task and meditation, letting her consciousness drift through the environment, expanding to the outer halls. There was a slight commotion in the hidden room next door, and she felt the unmistakable presence of Feyd there. He wasn’t alone. But he felt happy, confident, but with some restraint still in his manner. She could hardly grasp the threads of his thoughts before he moved too far away from her senses.

He entered the room not long after, stopping in the doorway when he saw her there.

She held his gaze, allowing her eyes to say nothing while his told her everything. He was apprehensive, excited, fearful, and fought against an inner urge to see in her a motherly figure — after all, she’d chosen to be seen sitting quietly in the pale light sewing quite on purpose. Her lips were set in a line that wasn’t yet a smile.

He shut the door behind him with finality and walked toward her.

“I hope you had a good day, my lord na-Baron,” she said, getting up to her feet to lightly bow.

“We started harvesting the spice again today,” said Feyd. “The first batches have already started filling the silos.”

He wanted to be praised…

“A great achievement. Your uncle must be pleased,” she smiled.

“Well, he’s always been easy to satisfy.”

Feyd stopped before her and shamelessly looked down her figure. He smelled of sand and sunlight, and a hint of cinnamon. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from his suit. Without asking, he reached for her hand that held the needle and let his finger trace its length. It fell off the sharp tip without breaking his skin.

“Fixing what I broke this morning?” he chuckled.

“Yes. I have the impression there will be many more mornings like that.”

“Not if you do as I say,” he rasped.

“I can not sleep naked as you do. The nights in Arrakeen are too cold.”

“Funny,” he said with a playful tilt of his head and a smile. “You didn’t seem to mind seeing me. Yet I can’t see you?”

She hardened her expression deliberately, chastisement evident in her every muscle. “No,” she answered.

He nodded and tried in other ways to seem indifferent, but he couldn’t hold it up for long. He gripped her sewing hand again, but this time harder, and without giving her the option to protest, he tore the shift from her hands and threw it down behind her.

“If you live to serve,” he hissed, “you serve.”

“That’s not what —”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

She didn’t stop him from unlacing her dress, although her every muscle shouted at her to. His fingers were more careful than she thought, and he made short work of it. Then, without daring to look into her eyes, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. He wanted to take her black veil off by himself… Of course.

He felt at first how it was held — pinned within her hair from both sides. As gently as a bard unboxing his instrument, he uncovered her, letting the veil fall to the floor, then his hands went to her shoulders and pushed the dress down her limp arms. It went down to her waist where a narrow belt held it.

She was surprised to feel a touch upon her back, careful and precise, but harsh. If she focused, she could almost hear his heartbeat, hear his breathing, see behind her closed eyelids the expression on his face. His presence was as intense as when she’d first seen him take his first steps on Arrakis. He was not someone who liked to be ignored.

She turned to find him smiling, and couldn’t help a shiver of pleasure to find him happy from so small a thing. She realised then that what he’d been enjoying was the way tendrils of her hair fell on her skin. She held his gaze and, as if it meant nothing to her, took out the pins that kept it all together. It fell in waves around her shoulders and framed her breasts in teasing curtains, her hardened nipples just barely peeking through.

Feyd drew a sharp inhale and smiled as if he’d just received a present. Even his eyes looked innocent for a moment as if all power and control were drained from him, rendered unnecessary, because he’d just gotten everything he wanted. And then she slapped him in the face.

It was probably the hardest hit she’d ever given, and it still wasn’t enough to move him. He didn’t even waver on his feet. But his expression fell from pampered to petulant. It took a moment for his anger to be summoned up, and he flashed his black teeth at the sensation, cupping his cheek to soak the feeling in. He blinked and frowned at her — confused, perhaps, as to why she didn’t seem afraid, or why she dared to do it in the first place. But she saw in his expression a similar sort of thing to what passed across the eyes of sisters who accessed genetic memories. In his case, it was probably half-forgotten recollections from his childhood.

“You want it harder?” she asked with a deliberately indifferent tone.

Feyd didn’t waste a single breath. He gripped her throat and started squeezing, but she was unshakable now. Beneath his skin, she knew, her slap still sang throughout his blood. She stood before him half-naked, and he was the vulnerable one.

She slid her hands out of the sleeves of her dress and gripped his wrist — not to push it away, but to hold it — and dipped her head to bite into the flesh between his fingers. Feyd breathed in but let her do it, a shiver of pleasure running up his arm. He moaned, and immediately she felt his blood against her tongue. Pretending to enjoy it, she closed her eyes and drank it down. Then, with a kittenish lick at his wound in parting, she raised her head and started walking.

“You say I’m here to serve,” she whispered, pushing him toward the bed. “I know just how you want it.”

She brought him to the edge of the mattress and kneeled, forcing him to sit down. He did it as if mesmerised. As reward, she kissed him where his skin was bleeding, then sank her teeth in it again.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 19, 15 mai 1897, Paris. No. 16. — Toilettes pour jeunes femmes et jeunes filles. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Toilette de promenade en lainage souple vert prairie. Corsage court et montant, orné devant par de larges bandes garnies de petits velours. Boutons sur le côté, petit volant de chaque côté des bandes, col montant, ruche autour du cou; manches Empire, jupe plissée à petits plats tout autour. Chapeau-toque en paille verte, orné au-dessus par trois grosses roses du milieu desquelles s'échappe une haute aigrette en coques de ruban.

(1) Walking ensemble in soft meadow green wool. Short, high bodice, decorated in front with wide bands trimmed with small velvets. Buttons on the side, small ruffle on each side of the bands, high collar, ruffle around the neck; Empire sleeves, pleated skirt with small plates all around. Green straw toque hat, decorated above with three large roses from the middle of which escapes a tall egret made of ribbon shells.

Métrage: 10 mètres lainage souple très grande largeur.

—

(2) Toilette d'intérieur en lainage paille. Corsage-veste à petites basques, retenu sur la poitrine par des pattes boutonnées sur chemisette plissée en surah vert amande, gros nœud en mousseline de soie à l'encolure, manches plates renflées dans le haut. Jupe ronde ornée dans sa largeur par des petits velours.

(2) Indoor ensemble in straw wool. Bodice-jacket with small peplums, held on the chest by buttoned tabs on a pleated shirt in almond green surah, large silk chiffon bow at the neckline, flat sleeves bulging at the top. Round skirt decorated across its width with small velvets.

Métrage: 8 mètres lainage très grande largeur.

—

(3) Toilette de promenade en lainage beige. Corsage plat quadrille sur la poitrine par des galons de laine bleue, col montant, ruche au-dessus, manches plates renflées du haut, jupe tout unie et ronde. Chapeau canotier en paille beige, garni tout autour par des petits nœuds de ruban bleu, et pouf de plumes en aigrette.

(3) Walking ensemble in beige wool. Flat bodice quadrille on the chest with blue wool braids, high collar, ruffle above, flat sleeves bulging at the top, plain and round skirt. Beige straw boater hat, trimmed all around with small blue ribbon bows, and egret feather pouf.

Métrage: 7 mètres lainage très grande largeur.

—

(4) Toilette d'intérieur (jeune femme), en lainage rouge égyptien. Corsage-blouse, festonné sur le côté, recouvert du haut par un collet à col rabattu, coupé; cravate en surah noir sous col ne lingerie rabattu. Manches plates, ceinture de cuir blanc, jupe ouverte devant sur tablier semblable.

(4) House dress (young woman), in Egyptian red wool. Blouse-bodice, scalloped on the side, covered at the top by a collar with a turn-down collar, cut; black surah tie under folded lingerie collar. Flat sleeves, white leather belt, open skirt in front on similar apron.

Métrage: 9 mètres lainage très grande largeur.

—

(5) Toilette de réception pour jeune femme en mousseline de soie noire. Corsage plat sous empiècement semblable orné de petits velours, bretelles sur les épaules; chemisette plissée en mousseline de soie rose, col montant avec ruche au-dessus, jockeys de mousseline sur manches plates, ceinture de ruban attachée par une boucle, jupe ronde plissée soleil.

(5) Reception ensemble for young women in black silk chiffon. Flat bodice under similar yoke decorated with small velvets, straps on the shoulders; Pleated pink silk chiffon shirt, high collar with ruffle above, muslin jockeys on flat sleeves, ribbon belt attached with a buckle, round sun pleated skirt.

Métrage: 10 mètres mousseline de soie noire.

—

(6) Toilette de jeune fille en drap gris très clair. Corsage-veste devant, boléro dans le dos avec revers encadrant une chemisette surah bleu broché vert, plissée en travers, col montant et ruche au-dessus, manches renflées dans le haut, ceinture suissesse en surah vert, jupe ronde tout unie. Chapeau canotier en paille verte, orné au-dessus par des grandes coques de ruban bleu, avec oiseau couché et ailes déployées sur le devant.

(6) Young girl's ensemble in very light gray cloth. Bodice-jacket in front, bolero in the back with lapel framing a blue surah shirt with green brocade, pleated across, high collar and ruffle above, bulging sleeves at the top, Swiss belt in green surah, plain round skirt. Green straw boater hat, decorated above with large shells of blue ribbon, with lying bird and outstretched wings on the front.

Métrage: 7 mètres drap gris clair.

[jackiepackiee]

What if, hear me out, Chuuya wasn't left to suffer alone after Dazai left the PM? What if he had someone that would really be there when he went to hardships/silent breakdowns.

Chuuya xmale!reader (patiënt reader)

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 𝐿𝑒𝒻𝓉

It’s gn reader, I don’t do male

Life without Osamu Dazai in the port mafia was different

Not better, but not necessarily worse

Less people died, Mori became self sufficient without the prodigy

But Chuuya felt strange

Even if feeling the same as the general consensus of his absence

He wasn’t better or worse because he felt nothing

Then there’s you

Patient with him, understanding

Throughout every stage

Denial

Chuuya Nakahara was fucked

And so was the port mafia is any larger than life issue happened to come by

He could no longer use corruption safely, not without dying

So when the moment comes when a mission requires that sort of strength, only you can save his life

“I have to! You don’t understand, half our god damn organization will die if I don’t!”

Quick words shot from his mouth to your ears, aimed for you. His gloves being removed from his hands will he glared at you. Why were you so stubborn?

“No Chuuya! You’re going to die! You’re going to die and leave me all alone. What if it happens again? What if you can’t save me?”

That was plain cruel, using yourself to convince him. Making a hypothetical of you in pain, but it was necessary. He wouldn’t listen otherwise.

“Fuck… Fuck! Alright, fine!”

Anger

Why would the one person in this world who felt similar to him leave? Get taken away

One who didn’t feel human

He never blamed Dazai, no

He knew it was for the better, he needed help

But your empathy could only go so far

Verlaine didn’t count, because they weren’t close

You didn’t count because you were fully and wonderfully human in his eyes

But Dazai, he was off the same vine of pain

A creature other than

“Chuuya? Hey, I just wanted to check up on you”

His apartment was the place you knew he’d be in not at work. No more late night motorcycle rides or wine galleries. He let you in, of course he did.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to-”

He cut you off.

“I’m. Fine.”

“Chuu, this place is a mess. You’re clearly needing help.”

He didn’t even look at you. Still glued to the glass infront of him, sloshing his wine.

“Do you ever just mind your own business?! I mean fuck! You come into my place, and judge me? I’m sorry I’m not perfect enough for your bullshit standards.”

He was being short with you, uncharacteristically so. Usually this rudeness was reserved for particularly stressful days, in which he’d apologize for after. But for now it’s best not to push.

“…I brought you some chocolate covered strawberries?”

Your meek voice caught his true attention. More than that, the kindness of it. The kindness in you. And guilt ran through like a damn train.

Every little thing was seemingly ticking him off, but you weren’t “every little thing.” No, you deserved better.

He walked over to you, took the container of sweets you offered into his hands, and stared.

Why would someone ever be so kind?

He ate one, wincing at the taste of love you had put in. Pain on his tongue from the unfamiliar feeling of care.

“…I’m sorry, thank you.”

Only you could calm that storm of anger now, and calm the storm you did.

Bargaining

Chuuya’s office was soundproof just like every other room in the headquarters

Locked only on certain occasions

But you knew today was nothing special, and he hadn’t answered to your insistence knocking

So with your key, that he gifted you, you entered his office

To find this

Chuuya was looking through every phone number in the most recent phone record kept by the port mafia.

All across Yokohama, he called every one without a name attached.

“What are you doing?”

He snapped out of it, and stared at you. Confused and a bit hazed after such a long time of silence.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing is nothing, this is psychotic.”

You could tell what he was doing, of course you could. You knew him well.

“What?”

He was no longer snappy as he usually would be with one of your insults, but struck. He knew you meant it this time.

“He isn’t come back, Chuuya. He left, for himself. He didn’t leave because you or I, he left because he needed to. You know that, don’t be a fool.”

Your stern attitude scared him straight, and he stood up. Then walking over to you before giving you a hug.

He seemed so desperate for a reason. You gave him that, and he was grateful.

Depression

Late nights sometimes meant sharing a bed

Staying over each others places after a mission if it was closer

So him turning up at 2am was not shocking

But that fact he looked so down was

His eyes looked dead, and his body trembled. He held nothing, not even a wallet or phone.

Just standing at your door, looking abandoned.

So you ushered him to your bed, and let him settle. You never questioned his moods, but were always there. Petting his hair, in silence.

The silence he needed, only from you.

Acceptance

A glass of wine always represented a victory for Chuuya. A celebration of something. This something though was confusing him.

But if you bring him a vintage bottle and say congratulations, he won’t complain.

Half drunk, bottle half gone, night half over. That’s when your conversations always got the deepest.

“Say, why’d you bring this bottle over anyways?”

“To say congrats, duh!”

You laughed, and smiled at him teasingly.

“No no, I mean seriously. What for?”

“For grieving.”

He stopped. Noticing his expression, you continued.

“You got over Dazai, believe it or not. Even if you’ve been a real bitch about it.”

You giggled, drunk. But a certainty clarity reached your mind. And you looked at him happily, with content.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been terrible”

“Shh, don’t apologize.”

But you let him, he needed to speak.

“I don’t understand why I’ve been so damn wild. He’s a dick, but he’s my ex partner.”

“Because maybe the world didn’t end when Dazai left, it just kept spinning.”

Not proofread

[kookie-doughs]

Daddy Cupid

Modern!Various One Piece Men X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 1: Cupid's Bow

You sat alone in your cozy apartment, the dim evening light casting long shadows on the walls. Typing on your computer, paying no mind to your surroundings, each passing minute was marked by the distant ticking of your wall clock. The silence was broken only by the occasional honk of a car horn from the street below.

A sudden buzz interrupted your work, and you sighed as you picked up your phone. It was another message from your father, a message you had been dreading all day. "When are you going to settle down?" it read, the words in bold and accompanied by a string of emojis, including hearts, wedding rings, and not-so-subtle hints at grandchildren.

You rolled your eyes, knowing that your dad's matchmaking mission was about to kick into high gear again. You love your father dearly, but his obsession with finding you a husband had reached legendary status in the city.

Leaning back in your chair, you gazed out the window at the cityscape beyond. Grand Line, the bustling city you had called home for as long as you could remember, stretched out before you. Its streets were filled with endless possibilities and countless bachelors, all waiting to be vetted by your father.

But you weren't quite ready to dive into the world of love and commitment. At thirty, you were content with your career, your independence, and your circle of friends. Marriage and settling down seemed like a distant future, one you weren't in a hurry to embrace.

Figuring your dad, and you yourself, would appreciate coffee before another session of nagging and proposing potential husbands, you went over to the coffee shop close by.

Figuring your dad was not going to leave you alone, you shut your computer down and got up. Yawning and stretching, you walked to your closet to get changed. You opted for a plain white t-shirt, distressed blue jeans, and comfortable sneakers. As you stepped out of your apartment and onto the bustling city streets, the vibrant energy of Grand Line unfolded before you, promising another day of adventures and surprises.

Your dad held a high position in the city, his name known through out the city. He had dedicated his life to various community initiatives, charity work, and local businesses, earning the admiration and trust of both young and old. His presence in the city was like a reassuring anchor, and despite the city's considerable size, it felt like a small, interconnected town where everyone's lives were intertwined in some way.

"Hey, Law. Good morning!"

Trafalgar Water Law, or simply "Law" as he preferred to be called, is a part-timer at the neighborhood coffee shop. Despite his perpetually tired appearance and the assortment of tattoos that adorned his arms, Law was a young man who defied expectations. Law had ambitions to study medicine in college, a path that seemed entirely unfitting for his appearance.

"Dad's favorite and my usual, please. Thank you," you say, offering a warm smile.

Pressing the items on his cashier monitor, Law efficiently processes your order and writes your name on the cup.

"Grandpa Rayleigh came over a while ago," Law speaks up as he begins crafting your coffee.

You can't help but grumble inwardly, fully aware of the purpose of the visit. Law was adopted by one of the most powerful families in the city, the Donquixote family. Doflamingo and Rosinante Donquixote were two of your father's potential sons-in-law.

"Please tell me that your dad was the one home... please," you implored Law with a hint of desperation in your voice.

"No," Law replied with a sympathetic shake of his head.

You took a deep breath and screamed silently, clenching your fist in frustration. It seemed like everyone preferred Rosinante, Law's adoptive father, and honestly, you couldn't blame them. Rosinante had always been kind, considerate, and genuinely caring. He had a warmth that drew people in, including you.

On the other hand, Doflamingo was a completely different story. As much as he might excel in his role as a family person, he was a crazy and obnoxious individual. He embodied the stereotypical rich bully, and from elementary school through high school, he had made your life miserable. You had no idea why your dad considered him a candidate for marriage, and the thought of being tied to someone like him sent shivers down your spine.

Law hands you your two coffees, and you accept them with a sense of resignation before making your way out of the coffee shop.

"Y/N!!" A child's voice calls out, and you inwardly sigh, thinking your day couldn't possibly get any worse. Turning around, you see Shanks with his wide grin. Beside him were three children: Zoro, Usopp, and Luffy.

"Sweetheart!!" Shanks starts to come toward you, ready to wrap his arms around you in a warm embrace, but you extend your arm and gently push him away. Instead, you kneel down to Luffy's level.

"Hey, kids~ Do you need help? Why are you with him?" You smile sweetly at the three youngsters, curious about their presence with Shanks. "Did he take you away?"

Shanks grins broadly and attempts to charm you. His hand on his chest presenting a faux offended look. "My love, I can't believe you'd think that!! I'm just being a nice citizen here, and I'm bringing these brats home! Aren't you falling for how great I am yet?" He bats his lashes, trying to win you over.

Usopp points at Shanks, "He was drinking with Dad, and they lost us."

"SHUT IT YOU BRAT!!!" It seems like the day's events had been just as chaotic for Usopp and the others as they were for you.

You hit Shanks on the head with a glare, your frustration evident. "Take them home and tell Yasopp to stop drinking or else!"

With a huff, you turn and stomp away, ignoring Shanks' calls as you make your way back to your initial destination. The events of the day had left you exasperated, and you needed some peace and solitude to clear your mind.

You arrive at your dad's place, already exhausted from the day's events. However, your frustration only deepens when you find him drinking with his friends Oden, Roger, and Edward.

"Hey, Dad," you say with crossed arms, glaring at the group. "Can you three go back home? None of you guys should be drinking."

Edward laughs heartily and gets up, stumbling over to you. He puts his arm on your shoulder and pulls you closer, his words slurred, "I have a son around your age. Gurararrara! Rayleigh told me you're looking for someone! I ca-"

Before he can finish his sentence, you interrupt him, your patience running thin. "Edward, go home. We can discuss this when you're sober." You give him a stern look, hoping he'd take your advice seriously.

Edward smirks and exclaims, "I'll tell my son to pick me up! Gurarara!!!!" His laughter rings through the room, and you can't help but shake your head at the drunken antics of your father's friends. Dealing with their overzealous matchmaking attempts was becoming a routine you'd rather do without.

Roger, clearly affected by the alcohol, sobs and clings onto your dad. "My son is 10... I want Y/N as my daughter-in-law too!! Rayleighhhh!" he exclaims, his emotions running wild as he joins in on the matchmaking fervor. You roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all, feeling like you're stuck in a never-ending loop of potential suitors.

"Ooh! Ooh!! What about my son!!" Oden cheers enthusiastically.

You grumble in exasperation, "Oden, your son is 16."

"It's close to your age!!" Oden insists, seemingly undeterred by the age difference. "Aren't you like 17 or something?"

"ODEN, I'M 30!!! Can you three drunkards please just go home!" You sigh defeatedly, feeling the weight of the matchmaking chaos weighing heavily on you.

You sigh with relief as you successfully manage to drag the drunk grown men out of the house and usher them into a cab that you've hailed. With the chaos outside resolved, you return to find your father slumped in the living room, going through his phone. You take a moment to clean up the mess they've made, trying to regain some semblance of order.

Your dad suddenly strikes up a conversation, "How was your date with Linlin's son?"

You shake your head and reply, "That date with Cracker is never happening again." The memory of that disastrous date still lingers vividly in your mind, making it clear that some potential suitors were better off left in the past. "Our deal was if I went on that date you'd leave me alone, remember dad?"

Your dad continues to express his concerns, lamenting, "I know, dear, but what am I supposed to do? You're 30 years old and single. How am I going to have grandchildren this way? I need at least 3 of them, you know!"

"Dad, I'll figure it out, please," you implore, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing on you.

"What about that clown? His circus is booming from what I heard. You grew up with him," your dad suggests, trying to be helpful.

You shake your head firmly, saying, "I'm not dating Buggy, Dad. C'mon, can't you just leave my relationships to meeee?"

He persists, "I would if you just go on a date with that Donquixote boy. Or Shanks, I hear he's doing great."

"Doflamingo is crazy. And Shanks is dating practically the whole city," you counter, exasperated by the suggestions.

Your dad's matchmaking attempts continue as he suggests, "What about that boy you used to like? The one that's in the National Kendo team."

"D-Dad, I liked Mihawk back in college! And he has two kids!" you exclaim, trying to put an end to this.

"And no wife!!" your dad interjects, clearly undeterred.

With your patience wearing thin, you warn him, "If you don't stop naming everyone, I'm gonna leave you to clean up yourself."

Your dad continues his relentless matchmaking efforts, suggesting, "What about just one date with Edward's boy? Hmm? What'dya say? Do it for your dad, c'mon. This'll be the last one, I swear."

You raise an eyebrow and reply skeptically, "You said that about Cracker. And also Kuro. And also King, not to mention Crocodile."

He tries to defend himself, "You dated that Croco-boy back then, though!"

"Yeah, so you'd get off my back!" you retort, the frustration evident in your voice as you remind him of your past attempts to appease his matchmaking desires.

Grumbling and realizing your dad wasn't going to stop his matchmaking efforts, you finally sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll go out with Edward's boy! But you have to swear this is the last one!"

"Fine, fine, fine! I'll text Edward," your dad agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

"Swear on Mom, Dad," you insisted firmly. He flinched and looked at you, hesitating. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response.

"Do we have to involve your mom?" he asked, trying to avoid the commitment.

"I'm moving to Calm Belt if you don't stop," you threatened, not willing to back down.

"FINE! I swear! But if you end up not ruining the date on purpose, I'm gonna keep pestering you," he reluctantly agreed, realizing he had no other option but to give in to your demand.

Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime

[cynicalstudy]

I’ve translated some Precure interviews from the 20th Anniversary Character Chronicle! This post is dedicated to Tropical Rouge Precure. Information under cut😊 (Note: I am not a professional translator! There will/may be some errors, but I tried my best!)

~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~

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🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍

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1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Exciting, Ever Lasting Summer! Cure Summer!”

2.The Precure Manatsu transforms into, her charm point being her lips. She went to save Laura, who had been captured by a Yaraneda, and declaring “I decide what’s important to me!” Her Heart Kuru Ring appeared, turning her into Cure Summer. “Otento Summer Strike” is her signature move.

3.A first-year middle school student at Aozora Junior High who grew up on Minamino Island and is full of energy and motivation. Her motto is to do what’s most important right now. She formed the Tropical Club with her friends, and her catchphrase is “Tropicashining~!”

🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍

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1.“We worked with the terms “tropical” and “cosmetics” as keywords. Our highly motivated Cure Summer consists of a multitude of colors, with her main being white and her sub being rainbow.” (Next Quote) “Her charm point is her lips, which are pale pink. A colorful sub section of colors was chosen to accentuate the white in her costume.”

2.“To express the idea of summer, we went with a hibiscus design, along with a pink to blonde gradient. Her costume is based off a sailor suit. The wavy, see-through collar makes the design pop.”

3.“Since most of the scenes took place near the ocean, the footwear had to be light. A thicker sole makes it easier to wear, along with a sandal-like lace design.”

4.”We asked Ai Fairouz (Summer’s VA) for words of inspiration as Summer. She stated, “Decide for yourself what is most important! This is what I believe  can be encouraging, especially in interpersonal relationships.” Fairouz-san claims she enjoys watching the characters enjoying fashion together.”

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💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜

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1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Sparkling Jewels! Cure Coral!”

2.The Precure Sango transforms into, her charm point being her cheeks. She is a bit envious of Manatsu who can do things without hesitation, but when she sees her and Laura in trouble, she believes in herself and decides to not run away. ”Mokomoko Coral Diffusion” is her signature attack.

3.A first-year junior high student. She runs a cosmetics shop at home and knows a lot about makeup. Being influenced positively by her peers, she gains confidence in deciding what defines her “cute”.

💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜���💜

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1.”Coral is caring and highly knowledgeable about cosmetics. Since she was created to be the “fashionable character”, we looked heavily into teen magazines for inspiration.” (Next Quote) “Her cheeks are her charm point. This is expressed as heart marks, which greatly enhances the cuteness of her character.”

2.“The hat we selected was an unusual style. We initially had it much larger but decided to shrink it and add a striped ribbon to make it more fashionable, along with a little coral. The big ribbons in her hair were also deemed fashionable, and her dress retains the elements much like a sailor uniform.”

3.“A skirt that is risen in the front to expose the socks made for a neat look. We coordinated these with pumps and frills to give them a girly style.”

4.“We asked Yumiri Hanamori (Coral’s VA) for words of inspiration as Coral. She stated, “I want you all to believe in me and my cuteness!” Hanamori-san likes Coral’s sailor hat and believes it is a cute accent to the costume.”

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💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛

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1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Shining Fruits! Cure Papaya!”

2.The Precure Minori transforms into, her charm point being her eyes. She wishes to help Summer and the other Cures, but determines it is impossible. Being pushed by Laura, she musters up the courage to turn into Cure Papaya. “Panpaka Papaya Shot” is her signature move.

3.A second-year middle school student who is an avid reader with excellent grades. She is quiet, having a poker face, and has keen insight. She has loved mermaid stories since she was a child, and was thrilled to meet Laura.

💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛

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1.“Minori has excellent grades and loves reading stories. Since she doesn’t show much emotion as a civilian, the gap between her design like that and as a Cure was made to be gorgeous.” (Next Quote) “We created a hairstyle to mimic a papaya, hence the bun. We added a butterfly and colored beads like fruit as decoration. Her charm point is her eyes, so green mascara highlighted this point to a unique degree.”

2.”Tropical fruit accessories add a touch of glamour to her face. The earrings mimic kiwis. Papaya’s square collar emphasizes uniqueness while still retaining the similarities between the rest of the team.”

3.“Her skirt is balloon-shaped that resembles a papaya itself. It was a bit simple at first, so we added frills and ribbons commonly enjoyed by a younger audience.”

4.“We asked Yui Ishikawa (Papaya’s VA) for words of inspiration as Papaya. She states, “Do what is most important! What TroPre has engraved in my heart are these words~” Ishikawa-san adores Papaya’s boots, as they mimic loose socks, reminding her of her family.”

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❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️

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1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Fluttering Wings! Cure Flamingo!”

2.The Precure Asuka transforms into, her charm point being her hair. She initially refused the Precure’s invitation since she didn’t need new friends, but decides to fight to protect her juniors. “Buttobi Flamingo Smash” is her signature attack.

3.A third-year junior high student with a strong sense of justice and outstanding athleticism. She is very caring and good at cooking. Through her interactions with Manatsu and the others, she regains her trust in people and her passion for tennis.

❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️

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1.“Asuka is like a caring older sister who is good at sports and is a member of the tennis club.” (Next Quote)  “There are traces of this within her skirt. Her charm point is her hair, so a contrasting green mesh was added to the tips. This invokes a bold movement in her design.”

2.”Various feather motifs were selected throughout her design. This includes her hair ornament and sleeves. Along with a single earring, this makes it unique in terms of shape and color scheme. The ribbons are different behind her Tropical Pact. The asymmetrical design was chosen to represent a flamingo standing on one leg. This is accent by a light shade of green for contrast.”

3.“Fishnet tights invoke a cool older sister feel. With this, we believe the possibilities for cuteness have expanded.”

4.“We asked Asami Seto (Flamingo’s VA) for words of inspiration as Flamingo. She stated, “Victory! Simple and a declaration of triumph”. Asami-san loves the feather motifs in Flamingo’s outfit, as she says it is cool and different.”

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1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Shimmering Ocean! Cure La Mer!”

2.The Precure Laura transforms into, whose charm point is her nails. When she escapes the Witch of Delay’s manor, she becomes angry when she learned her precious friends have been hurt. The Mermaid Aquapot responds to her feelings and transforms her. “Kurukuru La Mer Stream” is her signature attack.

3.A confident and narcissistic mermaid girl, she desires to become queen of the Gran Ocean, but longs to be human with Manatsu and her friends. She assumes a human form eventually. Her full name is Laura Apollodorus Hyginus La Mer.

💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙

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1.“Cure La Mer dreams of becoming Gran Ocean’s next queen, which is the land of the mermaids. She is strong and confident, so we accentuated this with her bangs.” (Next Quote) “Fluffy sleeves were given since Laura’s outfit already exposes a large portion of her upper body. We made them round to mimic sea foam.”

2.“With her cute cut bangs, we picked buns with cute pearls in them to represent clams. The white leggings emphasize Laura’s acquisition of legs (from mermaid to human) and are connected to the open shoes. This was done to highlight the charm point, which was her nails. Also, rather than a sailor uniform, we chose a more exposed style for the front to resemble a swimsuit. This is because Laura hails from the land of mermaids.”

3.”The skirt is expressed with overlapping scales. By layering each color, we created a Precure with an unprecedented color. This in turn kept the mermaid motif.”

4.“We asked Hidaka Rina (La Mer’s VA) for words of inspiration as La Mer. She stated, “I’ll make my wish come true! Laura working hard towards her dreams is incredible to see. This, along with the desire to be a Precure, left a lasting impression on me, and it’s an important, powerful message.” Hidaka-san likes the gradient in La Mer’s hair.”

[leiflitter]

Hi I'm doing a research paper on antiheroes and I'm using Oliver as one example. Could you maybe tell me why he appeals to you as a character despite the murdering and the scheming etc

You come into my askbox while I sleep and make me think? First thing in the morning? BUT I SHALL ANSWER

won't make any sense probably but HEY!

I think the main reason I love Oliver is because I can see a lot of myself in him.

Cut bc this will be long af

Granted, my perspective on the character is... I spend a lot of time thinking about that idiot, so this is fully based on my interpretation of him buttttt

Okay, so the murders and scheming are firstly... Ambiguous. Elspeth is the only one we see as it happens- not in a flashback, big-twist, oh it was my evil plan all along #classwarfare #girlboss #theyhatetoseeabadbitchwinning way- and she's so far gone she's on a ventilator and just dies without it. How did she get so sick? It isn't mentioned. Honestly, as someone with long covid, she's wandering around London without a mask. LADY. YOUR LUNGS.

Everything else? The spiked bottle. The razorblades. They're shown to us at the end, this big gotcha moment... From someone who has clearly spent every moment since Felix Catton died trying desperately to gather some small piece of him.

His home is decorated like Saltburn. He's immediately trying to get back in. The moth battering itself against the window.

Whether or not Oliver Quick is an evil, scheming murderer is entirely down to your interpretation of that reveal montage. Mad props to Emerald for that.

My interpretation of it is... Not to say he's innocent, but that he's a sad, sad man grasping at straws to give himself more agency. He's spent years dwelling on and analysing the worst time of his life, and as a good Eng Lit student (dude was doing essays on Browning) he's turned it into a narrative.

If we stop suspending disbelief, then we have:

Felix

Oliver put some cocaine in a bottle (as evidenced by Oliver having the same sort of vial Farleigh has in the main hall). Oliver drank some. Felix drank some. He threw up, Felix died.

I have probably said this before, but Felix's death cannot be directly attributed to Oliver's actions.

Felix was in the bathroom, and although we don't see him doing lines, he's not just hanging out there for funzies. He's going hard, probably mixing drugs and booze. He's so off his tits that he doesn't notice how bad/bitter the booze Oliver gives him tastes. Plus there's a reason people snort cocaine; it's efficacy is highly reduced when eaten, and it takes far longer to reach the brain. How long would Felix have just stood in the maze? Waiting there like a sim with no activities queued until he keeled over?

It's likely that Felix overdosed, but it's really unlikely that Oliver was the sole cause, if he was the cause at all.

Venetia

He left razorblades near her. That's literally all we see. From Oliver as a character, I don't think he has the guts to actually, directly kill- and it wouldn't make sense to. He'd be found out immediately if he did- any sign of violence and the Cattons would have private investigators and all sorts at their disposal. He was in the next room. It'd be open and shut. I do think, from the blood on the floor, that she tried to go to his room for help and he ignored her- but!

Leaving something sharp near someone in distress is another shitty scheme. What was he going to do if she didn't notice them? What if she knocked them off the side of the tub accidentally? Was he going to leave her a post-it note like HI V PLS KYS LUV OLLIE to make sure she noticed them?

Another thing that often is kinda... Glossed over... Is that Oliver is a fuckin teenager, and he isn't as smart as he portrays himself.

Olls. Why would you fool about with Felix's sister in plain view of the house? Ollie. What exactly did you expect one email to do? Erase Farleigh from existence? Oliver. Mate. You left your phone in the bathroom? Where Felix "no boundaries" Catton could find it? Why? Did you need to play Snake in the bath THAT BADLY? Oliver. Why would you lie about something so easily disprovable? Oliver Quick, you started digging a hole and it became Felix's fucking grave.

Older Oliver has turned what happened into a narrative where He Has Agency. He did it, and he did it on purpose, because HE WASN'T IN LOVE WITH FELIX (he was in love with Felix). He had a plan, you see, it wasn’t him being desperate and trying anything, everything he could to stay close to Felix.

He wasn’t a weird, awkward teenager who went away from home, fell in love with someone entirely unobtainable- due to socioeconomic bracket, gender, the year, all of that- and was so desperate to be near Felix that he built an unsustainable web of lies that fell apart. I think the maze scene is Oliver at his most honest, because he doesn't understand why his performance is any different, other than the amount of effort he's put in.

No, he was evil. A bad guy. A wolf in sheep's clothing, Felix his innocent victim. He's a genius... Because what is the alternative for Oliver Quick?

Admit that he was little more than a child, lashing out, unable to accept his own feelings- as he's unable to accept them as an adult- and now...

The immutable fact is that Felix died, and Oliver will never be over it.

What's the safer option?

I was a mess and I might be responsible for this and I was lashing out and I might have killed the thing I loved most because I fucked it all up.

or

I did it all on purpose.

And... To bring this back to the question.

I have been Oliver Quick in the bit before the bike scene. I've watched people I'd like to be friends with, living a life I was too shy or scared to go after. I can remember desperately wanting to be cool, to have a backstory, to be compelling...

I just never got desperate enough to lie. And I'm doing pretty good now, but I fucking get it. To want that connection so badly, to yearn for the life you see other people living, to want to be someone other than yourself.

So y'know

That's why I love him.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Breaking Bonds Ch. 5

Summary: Regardless of logic, something meaningful is developing between you and your husband. Warnings: Slight angst, violence blood and injury A/N: Long chapter ahead, got a lil' carried away. Pacing and past/present is messed up pls ignore.

"Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle? [...] The gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it."

- Nitya Prakash and Richard Siken

[Previous Chapter]

Surprisingly, Rabban didn't grow bored of you as soon as he anticipated.

Quite the opposite, even: Up until now you merely shared a name and your quarters, but from this day onwards the two of you became practically inseparable.

It might sound ridiculous - and honestly, it is - but that one kind act of his was enough to gain at least a tiny fraction of your trust.

Despite Rabban having spent a lifetime of wrongdoings, you were now determined to bring forth the good buried deep inside of your husband, no matter how.

At least you wanted to believe there was still something left to save.

Those aspirations were the last straw, the only thing that would give your life on this nightmarish planet some hope.

Right now, however, being in midst of the arena, you reconsidered whether the potential you saw in him was more wishful thinking than anything.

You got a pedestral seat watching this unnecessary violent event- the favourite sport of their primitive culture - unfold. It was used mainly for entertainmennt, as well as means of punishment or execution.

The Beast was raising his blade, the deafening noise of his admirers cheering him on echoing through the air alongsides the paradox rays of their black sun. He was toying with his contender, showing off since he was certain of victory. No wonder, since it was standard to drug all the opponents before the fight.

Might be your imagination, but he seemed to be scanning the crowd frantically until he found the face he was looking for. A careless action, considering one's gaze should never leave the enemy until the fight was over.

You could've sworn to see a small smile tug on the edges of his lips when he locked eyes with you, desperate to see the slightest hint of adoration from your side.

Rabban had learned something about himself through this marriage: He wants to please, needs to be needed. By his uncle at first of course, but now he's got another fixation - and this one was built on something more than plain trauma.

Well, not only trauma at least.

Your husband genuinely wanted to take care of you, but tragically he did not know how with those hands that only ever knew how to destroy.

He was aware that he could never earn your affection, let alone able to handle being loved...

...but in hindsight he already possessed you, didn't he?

A ray of light hit your face, reflected by the opponent's blade as he struck Rabban's left shoulder. You sucked in a pained breath on his behalf, feeling dizzy as you saw his blood mix with the sand.

You folded your hands as if you were praying for him to win - and as soon as he sees it, newfound thrill flowing through his veins.

Without so much as flinching he tore the blade out of his own flesh, his head held high as he effortlessly brought the other man to his feet without even breaking a sweat.

Only now you realized how ridiculously strong he was indeed - able to snap also your neck whenever he pleased.

You closed your eyes, turning away as your husband went for the kill , sealing his victory. It was a quick death, unusually merciful for their kind that's known to reach new lows concerning sadism.

"My Countess" the bloodied man greeted you confidently, chest swelling with pride as he approached you. You'll never fully get used to your title, 'Countess Rabban'. But the enthusiastic way he adressed it made you almost comfortable with that new role - or rather new life.

"My Cou-" Rabban didn't waste any time, sweeping you off of the ground as soon as you were in reach to go for a borderline-lewd kiss. You could only wonder what was going on in his head, suddenly being so prone to public displays of affec- no, ownership.

"That victory is my gift for you." You hate whenever he'd bestow you other's death and misery - but Rabban literally can't help himself, doesn't know how else to show you he cares.

"You're hurt." He almost seemed pleased with your reaciton - so sympathetically and worried despite the brutality you just witnessed.

"Minor injury" he chuckled darkly, "This is nothing."

The way you looked at him was unlike anything he's ever experienced before. No one had ever dared to approach him with anything else than fear, disgust or malice - and he prided himself on that fact.

Until now that he was practically melting whenever you were unable to keep yourself from smiling, knowing he managed to get this reaction from you.

It felt both right and yet so terribly wrong at the same time, the way you were drawn to his man.

Have you been on Giedi Prime for so long already that you were slowly succumbing to madness, blending in with the Harkonnens you lived among?

During the whole stroll towards your home, you felt Rabban's hand on the small of your back. A subconscious act, perfectly unaware how addicted he had become to your closeness by now.

And yet not unnoticed by others...

"Surely a great achievement, wasn't it?" Your smile wouldn't falter while you patched Rabban up - as he personally requested - nodding along while listening carefully to his overexaggerated stories. You could tell he was desperate for praise, born as the black sheep into this fucked up family.

"Sounds like you did amazing" you compliment his tale and instantly see his eyes light up - yet his fist balling nervously at the same time. He was bad at catching sarcasm, and used to mockery hidden beneath fancy phrasings.

"Careful" you shoo him, not done yet with your stitches. Gladly the blade caused a clean cut, so no tendons or other anatomical strucutres were severed.

Your husband had more luck than judgement, as usual.

"Y/N?" Blinking up at him after having applied the bandage, you suddenly feel his palm cup your much smaller one, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. "Thank you."

Rabban was smiling at you, different however from the one you were normally used to. A pityful attempt to mimick a friendly demeanour, so contradicitonary to his whole self it was almost comically inaccurate.

"I-I...no problem, really." You felt heat rising to your face, heart fluttering as his other hand cupped your cheek. He was incredibly cautious to be gentle when his palm wandered to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his...

...but just when you were about to surrender yourself to this absurd attraction, you stopped yourself.

Remembering the reason you knew the skill of patching up after all, back when all those lives were - and still are - destroyed by the Harkonnen made you think straight again.

"I'm sorry, Rabban" was all you managed to wring out as you sprung up, violently shaking your head as if to shake those feelings right off.

"Don't be. It's alright." You freeze in your tracks at his understanding reaciton, and yet feel like even the chemical gases of the outside would be less suffocating than his presence.

The Beast watches you leave, chose not to pursue you. He was disappointed with the outcome of his approach, yet uncharacteristically not mad either - just confused, and maybe a little hopeful, at last.

It took you a while to calm down, arranging your thoughts and trying to rationalize your emotions as good as possible. Still, your mind went back again and again to this tender moment you shared, wondering whether it would really be so bad to catch feelings for someone you were tied to either way...

...wait, what in the known universe were you even doing?!

This man is the dead enemy of your homeworld, having caused so much misery that he can never be forgiven!

No. Never!

You might have to tolerate spending your lives together - but you'd be damned if you let the circumstances twist your loneliness into some forlorn type of affection!

This villain is just curious about the customs of usual people. Neither is he capable of having a meaningful bond, nor does he deserve it.

Much to your luck Rabban was nowhere to be found after your return. At least initially you felt alleviated not needing to talk this through - until it dawned on you who would have to pay the price for your insolence.

"Milady, wait!" one of the soldiers begged, fearing the consequence of guiding you to the slave pits. "This is no place for a noblewoman!"

"You dare questioning my decision?" The small garnison immediately stopped in their tracks when you turned around, startled by the hostile glare you shot them. "Maybe I should inform my husband about your lack of cooperation."

As ashamed as you were of this mischievous joy, as satisfying it also was for the roles to be reversed for a change. For them to be forced to listen to your every command, despite you being an 'inferior' Lankiveili.

After all this time of hiding and losing against the Harkonnens, right now you had the upper hand. A small victory, if only symbolic.

"N-No, please" he wrung out, visibly concerned. "Let us at least lead the way. For your safety."

Even during the day the planet's surface was somehow even darker than the inside of those soulless, metallic buildings. Anyone staying here for too long would either suffer chemical burns or choke on the pollution, so wearing protective gear was mandatory.

The slave pits were far away in the middle of nowhere, making it impossible to escape. You've been told that none of them could survive more than three years top under those conditions...

At first you thought Rabban was here because of your neither polite nor subtle rejection, but then you got wind of something different: A maid had informed you about the latest political scheme in the Empire - not that Rabban would care about any of it, as long as his position was secured...

...but well, this time it wasn't. The Emperor had set a decree that would take Arrakis from your husband's lead and give it into the hands of rivaling House Atreides.

Who knows what heinous things he'd do to those poor slaves to let off some steam.

No, it was good this way, as harsh as this might sound. You were developing irrational feelings, so witnessing how the Beast treated others was just what you needed to get down to reality again.

You'd soon find out, seeing your husband at the horizon and in front of him lined up slaves, serving as today's victims. He walks past each of them with one hand on his whip, none daring to look directly into his eyes as he fed on their fear, dwelled in this abstract idea of control and power.

When he finally picked out one that particulary unnerved him for no concrete reason, ready to strike him with his infamous poisoned whip, you leaped in front of that poor person just before the hit, yelling "STOP!"

You don't know what possessed you to do this, or how you even managed to get this far without being grabbed by the bystanding soldiers - but instead of the expected incoming blow, there was dead silence among every involved party.

Even with the mask on he recognized your voice and the body language gave it right away, so graceful and much more docile - yet the shock he was feeling seeing you of all people here was too quickly replaced by fury.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?! I ALMOST CRIPPLED YOU, DAMMIT!"

Rabban turned around, concerning himself with the soldiers and completely forgetting about the slaves you quickly waved off to save themselves. "What the hell is my wife doing here?!"

"My-my Count, she insisted-" the man's breath got sucked right out of his lungs when Rabban's fist met the plexus right under his ribcage.

"Any other objections?" Everyone shook their heads. "Good. Escort her back. Immediately."

"Rabban" It unnerved him that you'd speak to him so casually, so careless in front of third parties. "I have an important matter to discuss with you. In private."

"Later" he deliberately turned you down, not even biding you another look as he went after the escaping slaves. "Got unfinished business. Now get her away from here, carry her if it need to be."

"Hey, I- don't touch me!" Your initial near-death-experience was nothing compared with the frustration you felt skyrocketing a thousandfold right now. "Rabban, please!"

"They wouldn't dare harming you" he assured you as one of the guards casually threw you over his shoulder. It was so unfair, how considerate he could be when he was just about to destroy another person like a goddamn toy.

You were lashing out at your abductor's back, accompanied by the laughter of his men while they carried you inside of the main building. Feeling humiliated, no, tainted by their touch - knowing very well what happened to other maidens from your world that had fallen into the hands of Rabban's henchmen...

...and to think it could get any worse than this...

"Let. Her. Down." You knew that voice, hoarse and absent of any emotion. It made the hair of your neck stand up, head spinning with adrenaline.

"Good" he spoke as you were carefully placed to the ground again, the dagger in his hand pointed towards a door, ordering "Leave us alone. I'll walk her the rest of the way."

"My dear brother-in-law" you cheered in a high-pitched, fake-friendly tone, covering up how terrified you truly were. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Up until now Feyd had no interest in you whatsoever - and you were damn glad about it.

The current generation of Harkonnens were a distillation of malice, indifference, sadism and dehumanization - with Feyd-Rautha being the most exceptional specimen in all of those characteristics.

Unlike Rabban, he had been raised by the Baron and Piter ever since birth, not a fraction of positive influence left.

Basically, he had been doomed to become a freak from his very first breath.

Even your husband was creeped out by his own brother, the pure evil he impersonated. He never spoke about it openly, but you always noticed how defensive his stance became whenever those two were in the same room.

"Oh, I thought we'd chat a bit while we're on our merry way." He could play the part of a civilized young man to perfection and it made you sick to your stomach.

Sometimes you forgot that no matter how weird it may sound, Rabban was actually the most sane of them all. His poor impulse control just makes people have a wrong impression.

It was actually something you actuall admired about your husband- he carried his heart on his tongue, unlike those fake aristocrats.

"So, how's the marriage life with my brother?" he asked as you were slendering across the halls, every person you came across ducking down in fear of the youngest Harkonnen. "You know, I can hardly imagine what you go through. My uncle used to say he was more beast than man - and they treated him accordingly."

You balled your fists at the thought of a young Rabban being mistreated in the most gruesome ways, having gotten used to those distraught screams he wrung out every night until this day.

But you knew better than to fall for his provocation right away.

"With all due respect" you dropped the courtesy, "Why would you care?"

"Well, I might not know what love feels like - but I sure know how it looks. And my brother seems quite attached to you."

You furrowed your brows in disbelief at his observation, meanwhile he was circling you- as if to analyze what the hell was so special about you. "They say I'm good at reading people, and he's always been an open book to me. Even his own men started talking, and they rarely dare to speak out of line."

"So what?" Your voice was shaking with the uncertainty of his intentions, aware that you were right now a victim to his whims. "As long as we do as we're told, does it really matter what happens in the privacy of our home?"

"Well, you still despise him, don't you?" Feyd was now prventing your advance, standing in front of you in all of his glory. A handsome young man indeed, but everything about him was repulsing nonetheless. "He enslaved your planet and killed countless of your relatives. You must hate him deeply...but maybe I have a solution for this problem."

Feyd's hand reached out for you and you were certain of receiving pain or worse at any second - yet he merely twirled a strand of hair between his fingers, before tucking it behind your ear.

"You don't care about wealth or power" he whispers, almost cheek to cheek with you now. "How admirable. You only wish to wake up from this nightmare and return to your loved ones, don't you? I can arrange that."

Oh, he sure was good with his words. To the untrained eye one would assume someone this charismatic could never be a psychopath - but knowing his true, corrupted soul kept you from falling for his silver tongue.

If it was for his own benefit, he could lie with every breath.

"I am no fool. You wouldn't help someone like me if it wasn't for your personal gain." Shivering at his aura, this intrusion of personal space you could tell he was amused, aroused even. "So why? And how?"

"Ah yes, that's more of a trade. I'll grant you freedom..." Feyd explained as he rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a small flask. "...and you kill a man for me."

"Now what do you say?" he urges, shoving the obvious poison into your hands. "It's untraceable. They'll never find out."

Clutching the small phial in your hand, eyes darting from the liquid inside to your inlaw and back, you croak "I don't understand."

Murder was not punished by law on Giedi Prime - the only justice was the survival of the strongest. It was even greatly encouraged to kill someone shall you desire something they owned, may it be their post or even worse motivators. And Feyd had already tried assassinating his uncle several times, even then remaining unpunished.

"You're perfectly capable of killing Rabban yourself. Why go out of your way, including me in your petty sibling rivalry?"

"Where'd be the fun in that?" the Harkonnen shrugged, a manic grin splitting his face in two. "Having him die at the hands of this foolish crush would be way more rewarding. Just imagine life leaving his eyes when he realizes who is responsible for his demise. Perfect tragedy."

The thought alone made an incredible sadness overcome you.

"And then what, you become Count and terrorize my people?" He would definetly be the worse choice, you thought. But he had a point:

"I don't give a damn about your insignificant planet. I have greater aspirations. But Rabban still sees it as his homeworld, my uncle puts him under house arrest there frequently. I would simply leave you people alone as long as we get your ressources, you have my word."

"So, what do you say? You'll get revenge for your people and return to Lankiveil as widow." There's a chance that this plan might work, that they would let you leave so your folk doesn't revolt. And still... "Who guarantees me that you won't frame me for the deed and have me executed?"

"The choice is yours. You'll never know if you don't try" he urges, visibly irritated of this far too long conversation.

Before he left you by yourself, he turned around one last time - the severity of his words echoing inside of your mind. "Besides: A quick death would be better than a long life full of agony, don't you think? Only a matter of time until he'll revert back to his old self, believe me."

On your now secluded way home you took several detours, even though feeling uncomfortable among other Harkonnens.

Feyd was right in a way, of course.

What if one day Rabban forgets himself in the heat of the moment, and does something he regrets later? Would certainly not be the first time. His brother on the other hand might generally be more dangerous, but intelligent enough to know when to behave shall the risks outweight the benefits.

"Surely he's bluffing" you tried to convince yourself, make sense out of this messed up situation. "It simply can't be true."

Yes, he might temporarily be a little less intense, but Rabban was still Rabban - both brothers evildoers that didn't even hesitate killing their own parents.

They don't love anyone but themselves.

Before you were even close to your chambers, you hear a familiar roar accentuated with fleeing servants throughout the hallways. Stepping foot into your shared bedroom you find it in ruins, your husband sitting on the floor now coated in silence.

"R-Rabban?" you call out for him and you flinch as he stares you down like a feral animal. As soon as he sees your face however his anger subsides, evaporates just like water in the desert.

"Where the hell have you been?!" he grumbled, features softening as he got up again. Anyway, you wished to not be within his hitting range right now."You left before me and were gone for hours."

"I- sorry..." you stuttered, the guilt of your secret conspiracy making you unable to even look at him. "I thought no one was waiting for me here, so I went for a walk."

You immediately began mentally speculating what punishment might follow - until Rabban caught you off guard. He wrapped his arms around you, holding your body firmly against his that was still trembling with rage.

"Never come to the slave pits again" he mumbles into your hair, head resting atop of yours. "Do you have any idea how many people there might try and take your life to get back at me for taking their loved ones?"

Did he just compare you to a beloved person?

"Haha, I doubt it" you chuckle a little flustered, yet the realization was creeping up on you. "It is widely known that you have very little regard for human life, except for your uncle of cour-"

Suddenly he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him - and the sheer adoration in his eyes made you see the truth. "Your wellbeing is my responsibility, whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Feyd was right after all.

You nod mutely, wanting to change the topic before you might fold completely. "I wanted to see you because I heard what happened to Arrakis."

"Yeah..." His free hand was still placed at your hip, squeezing ever so slightly. "My uncle will punish me soon. I am a failure, a disgrace, and because of this we lost the Spice."

Accusations about his poor government of your own planet were already at the tip of your tongue, yet for some reason you swallowed it in front of a man that had been robbed of the only chance to prove himself.

"Hear me out" you whispered, hands hesistantly resting on his shoulderblades to reassure him. "This is only a trap for House Atreides, I am sure of it."

You could almost hear the gears in your husband's head turning without results. "How?"

"They have grown strong, and their greatness is known throughout the galaxy." Putting two fingers under your chin in a pondering way, you add "Their popularity is threatening the Emperor. He wants them gone."

"And what does all of that have to do with my Arrakis?"

"If you wanted someone disappear without any witnesses, wouldn't you choose a planet with a lethal habitate and poor communication possibilities?"

Rabban's mouth stood slightly agape as he murmured "They'll be erased, and we return."

"Exactly..." Nothing could make you hide the overwhelming sadness you felt at that moment. "So it's not your fault, Rabban. It's merely part of a greater conspiracy."

Your kindness overchallenged him. He was never given it before and did not know how to deal with it properly - and yet you can redirect his anger so well that he almost feels comfortable in his own skin.

"Seems like I owe you my gratitude once again" he laughs and for a moment you think you could get used to this softer side of him. "Is there anything you wish for, so I can make it up to you?"

"I want to see my family!" you blurted out, the answer coming as fast as a lightning bolt. "Take me with you next time you go to Lankiveil."

All this wealth and this is what you settle for?

"Alright, whatever" he rolled his eyes, a little jealous of the people you loved so dearly. "But if your theory is true, I'll be called to battle soon. So be patient with me."

Eradicating a whole bloodline out of selfishness and greed, once again proving your point. As someone from the minor houses you knew better than anyone that there wasn't really a good or bad side in this.

"Don't worry" you feel his palm on your shoulder, "I'll return victorious as always. Those weaklings stand no chance!"

Yes, this Empire was built on the blood and tears of the weak and righteous. All the great houses did atrocious things over the past millenia, and this circle of violence and betrayal will continue until there's no humans left.

One tyrant follows after the other. There were no victims - only culprits and accomplices.

So why were you consoling, encouraging him even?

There was another way, allowing you to prevent this massacre if you weren't so pathetically hesistant. Just murder this wrenched menace and save hundrets, if not thousands of lives!

"Say, Rabban..." you ponder as you fondled with the poison hidden in your sleeve, eyeing the bottle of liquor he'd surely empty this evening. "Why did you never try to kill your uncle and become Baron yourself?"

The Beast had a perplexed expression at that random question, so you tried walking him your lane of thought. "I heard it's common among your people if you want to take someone's place..." You became gradually more quiet, that last part almost inaudible and yet you regretted it slipping out. "...like you did with your father."

"I- don't know." Your husband's voice was an octave deeper, laced with sadness and...guilt? "It was never my wish to have him gone. I'm comfortable with my role as it is."

"You are so loyal to undeserving people..." Your words confuse him, make memories resurface he'd rather remained suppressed. But you wouldn't have any of it. If you were to be judge and executioner, then you wanted the whole truth. "Then why did you kill your father, our dear Count? For power? Because he tried to help my people? Tell me!"

Nothing like that - he merely adapted to his environment.

And still, he remembered the look of betrayal in his father's eyes, as it was yesterday - as well as the distraught scream of his mother. That feeling of killing someone with his bare hands for the first time...

...it was back then that he realized that love couldn't fix a broken man like him after all.

"BECAUSE THEY ABANDONED ME!" he finally snaps, roaring right into your face. "Do you have any idea what it means to live on Giedi Prime when you are unworthy?"

He runs around fiercely, slamming his hands against his temple to keep the past from reemerging. "The things they do to make you obey, how they bend your behavior into a direction beneficial to them? What you endure, what you need to do?"

You can only helplessly watch his breakdown, heart breaking for him as you want to hug this poor child that had been turned into an unstable warmonger.

"I have nothing else" he ultimatively whispers, defeated.

"That's not true - you have me." Taking a few steps forwards, you take his hand...

...and place the flask right into his palm.

"What is this?"

"Poison" you retort flatly, "A deadly one. From your brother, meant for you."

"Why?" He looks at you flabbergasted, fondling with the flask in his leather glove. "You should ask him, not me."

"No" his voice cracks, both stunned and touched by your decision. "I know my brother long enough to believe this is within his range of possibilities. What bothers me is you...why didn't you do it?"

You are at loss for words, contemplating to cowardly flee again - but Rabban insists, slowly coming closer and blocking your exit. "Tell me. I need to hear it."

"Please" you whimper, feeling your resolve shatter as his lips brush yours. "Don't make me say it..."

This is insane, wrong, a betrayal to your people and everyone that had suffered under your husband's influence...

...and yet you find yourself yearning to close the gap between your lips.

Rabban knows very well what Stockholm-Syndrome is. A handful of former victims had thought to love him to make his abuse more bearable. He grew tired of them eventually nonetheless, of their pretentious survival tactic.

"Your father begged for your life back then" he confesses, wants to spill all the disturbing facts about him and wanting you to love him either way, in spite of being contrary to all of your beliefs. "I told him I compromised only to make you watch your pathetic homeworld crumble to dust. And then I behea-"

SLAP

You want to go for another hit but Rabban catches your wrist, staring you down so intensely you hate yourself for what it's doing to you.

It's the first time you kiss him back, grabbing him by the collar to pull him down to your height. You feel him smile against your lips, lifting you up just to throw you onto the nearby mattress.

How many times had you lied here without anything ever happening?

"Tell me to stop" he breathes, carnal tones filling the air as his hands worked their way across your body, "And I will."

You shake your head in approval, moaning uncontrollably while Rabban undressed you, tracing sloppy kisses across your body. It made you high on this feeling, deafening out the voice of reason screaming in your subconsciousness.

For the first time, his touch was meant to mend and not break.

If only you knew that he'll make you regret that affection of yours all too soon...

"I'm not good at being gentle...but for you I'll try."

[Next Chapter]

[magnetichollowed]

tumblr just let me turn fucking live off, please

the snooze thing is irritating

[hellotherekenobi]

Smile for the Cameras.

Summary: you’ve been dating Eddie Munson for a while now, happily in secret so that the two of you can have some privacy, but now you want him to meet the family and it turns out they have a secret of their own.

A/N: this one goes out to my enabler @megmeg-chan but this time I have wrapped it up in a nice bow and delicately place it on your doorstep before knocking and running down the driveway like a madman.

Word Count: 7k

CW/TW: Byers!Reader/fem!Reader; Bob lives AU; multiple POV; mentions of drugs; season four, volume two didn’t happen.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here’s the thing—plain and simple—there aren’t a lot of good guys in Hawkins. Sure, there are your brothers, Will and Jonathan, but they’re family. There are also Will’s friends who, admittedly, are a lot of fun. Oh, and Steve... he’s a good guy, too...

Well. All right. There are a few nice guys in Hawkins, but they aren’t the majority. You’re happy to know that your mother has herself a good guy who really cares about her but, as your brothers will agree, you knew he was the best of the best from the moment you first met him.

Bob immediately hit it off with Will, which you’ve always been grateful for. After so many bad things have happened in Hawkins, it’s about time your brother gets some normality back in his life. Wholesome normality, too. Jonathan was a little more standoffish but he caved in pretty quickly when Bob mentioned how much he likes The Clash.

You, being the eldest, and also the closest with your mom, were ready to tear him to shreds if he so much as belittled her, but he was making you laugh within five minutes and offering a ride out to Scoops for ice cream so, yeah, you liked him from the start.

Now, you get to call him your dad.

Not all children get to see their parents get married, and you’re happy to be one of the few. Jonathan bought a new camera for the day and all of the pictures were either put into a scrapbook or framed around the house, which Will helped out with glee.

There’s a big one in the living room of the five of you, all wide smiles and arms around each other. Looking at that picture makes this place feel like home.

It’s as much of a benefit to your mother as it is to your brothers. You as well. Lonnie was a real jerk. It didn’t take a scientist to figure that out. He was hardly around and that was always bad for the boys, seeing as they grew up without a positive father figure. You’ve inherited some of your mom’s rage, so you never played the role of respectful daughter to Lonnie.

When he left, you thought ‘good riddance.’ When you saw how much it hurt your mom and your brothers, you thought of how easy it might be to get away with murder.

With Bob, you only think about how happy he makes everyone. It’s a big contrast and something your family had to warm up to, but he’s so naturally caring that it didn’t take too long.

The only thing that you’re still struggling to adapt to is Bob’s tech-savvy side. He works at Radio Shack and, you’ll admit, at first you didn’t think he’d be as good of a technician as he is, but every now and then he’ll bring work home and you get to see him tinker away at things with your own eyes.

All of that stuff goes over your head. About the only thing you know when it comes to electronics is the switch for the television set and what button to press to delete the footage Jonathan sneakily records with his video camera when you’re a groggy mess in the morning just trying to brush your teeth.

The day Bob put cameras up at the house, you knew you were screwed.

“It’s so we can catch the burglars,” he said, halfway up a ladder and screwing a dome into the side of the house.

The only burglary that’s happened here was from the drunk guy who nabbed the electric mixer during the garage sale, and your mom chased him down the driveway with Jonathan’s old baseball bat.

“We’ve got locks,” you said.

He had chuckled and went off on a tech spiel about how ‘we’re diving into a new age,’ and what exactly the cameras could do but, if you’re honest, you weren’t paying attention much to the specifics of it all. The minute Bob talks shop, you hear white noise.

Granted, he always tries to explain things in simple terms for you and for that you’re thankful. He simply continues to prove how much of a good guy he is.

But you’ve got a good guy, too, and you think he’s pretty fantastic. Not that many people will agree with you but, to each of them, you think that they’ll never know just how fantastic Eddie Munson is. They’re missing out big time.

Your family is missing out, too, since you’ve been keeping your relationship with him a secret. The thing is, you like having something for yourself. Growing up with two younger brothers in a small town doesn’t give you a lot of privacy.

You’ve shared one bathroom your whole life. You take the smaller portion for dinner (when your mom’s not looking.) You cancel plans to look after Will on late nights. So, yeah, you’re going to have something for yourself for a change and you’re going to enjoy it.

In so many words...

The first time Eddie tapped on your bedroom window, you opened it with an infernal glare that would put the name ‘Hellfire’ to shame, berating him for waking you up and for being at your house in the first place. Does he not understand the meaning of a secret relationship?

But he flashed you a toothy grin, said he missed you, and when he gave you those damn dark brown puppy dog eyes, you had begrudgingly let him in. For. One. Night. Only. Which turned into two, then three, then five, then... well, you’ve lost count at this point.

The thing you hadn’t realized at the start is how clingy Eddie is. He’s got to be around you three times a day like he’s your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When he laid his head in your lap on the third night he snuck in through your bedroom window and practically sobbed when you carded your fingers through his hair, you knew that the sweet Eddie Munson is touch-starved.

So—with the backbone of a chocolate éclair—you let Eddie stay the night pretty often. He rocks up at the same time, so, after a while, you don’t wait for the tap on the window, you just keep it open and hug him tight when he’s got his footing. Then you talk with each other until one of you falls asleep, waking up the next morning with tangled limbs and that gorgeous, messy bed hair that he’s never understood why you like so much.

It baffles you that he doesn’t realize just how pretty he is. Anytime you tell him, he jokingly asks if you’re only with him because of his looks, and you tell him every time that you’re with him because of who he is. But, also, because he’s too handsome to resist.

If you didn’t want to hold onto this secrecy for a little bit longer, you’d be parading him throughout the streets. ‘Look at my boyfriend. Look at how well my boyfriend plays the guitar. Look at how my boyfriend looks at me.’ He’s so not ready for that.

But the two of you can’t hide forever and you know it, even more, when he’s resting against the headboard of your bed, finger twirling a strand of his hair as he thinks in silence. He always scrunches his nose up when he’s deep in thought and it’s the cutest thing.

Seriously, how is it fair that he can be both adorable and attractive?

“Stop that,” you say, reaching over to tap the finger in his hair. “You’ll grow bald.”

He smiles, bringing his hand down to instead rest on your arm which is wrapped around him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?” He chuckles.

“You get this adorable crease right here—” you poke between his eyebrows, “when you think too hard.”

Eddie smiles. “You stare at me that much?”

“With a face like yours, yeah,”

Quiet moments like these have always been your favorite, whether or not that’s in your bedroom. When you can be with Eddie, just the two of you, everything else stands still.

You’ve been to his trailer plenty of times and you’ve met Wayne on many occasions as well. He’s been very supportive of your relationship with Eddie, having once said that he’s glad Eddie has someone who can ‘deal with his quirks.’ Truthfully, you admire those quirks of his.

When Eddie’s smile turns mischievous, you already know what he’s going to do before he does it. Yet, you’re still not quick enough to stop him from tickling you and burying his face in your neck, blowing raspberries on your skin.

You let out a short squeak, slapping his arm and pushing him off of you when you feel his lips curl against your neck.

“Stop!” You try to whisper but can’t help from laughing. “We’ve got to be—”

“Quiet, I know,” he nods, his smile an inch smaller.

It’s not the ideal relationship, you know that, having to hide all the time. The veil will lift sooner or later. It just turns out that he’s wanted it sooner since that fault in his smile can only mean one thing.

“I’m going to tell them soon,” you say. “I’m just figuring out how.”

“Well,” he absentmindedly traces circles on your skin. “I was actually wondering if you could ask your dad something for me,”

“Oh?”

“I only get paid so much for my gigs and I’m kinda running on empty right now, so I was hoping your dad would have a spot free at his job?”

“You wanna work with my dad?” You ask, sitting up.

He nods his head, a crease again at his forehead. “I know a thing or two about fixing things and, I mean, Radio Shack ain’t that bad a place to work in. At least, until I can find something stable.”

“Like he wouldn’t offer you full-time right off the bat,” you chuckle, playfully hitting his arm.

“Well, I don’t know,” he beams.

You tap your finger against your chin, feigning consideration, then dip forward to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you say.

“Yeah?” He smiles.

“Yeah, and maybe you could...” you shrug your shoulders, “come for dinner. Get to know him a bit.”

Eddie lights up, his smile warm and soft. “I’d love that,”

Truly, there’s nothing you’d love more than for your parents to finally meet your boyfriend and, hopefully, approve of him. You don’t have any worries that they’ll kick him out, but you can’t help but feel like something will go wrong.

Everything will be okay as long as you don’t mention that you’ve been sneaking Eddie in through the window almost every night. After all, how would they ever know unless you say something?

─────── ⋯ ───────

Sometimes, this house feels like chaos.

It’s one thing to be late for school—and work—but it’s another thing for the power to be out, so no one is ready to leave. Joyce had woken up to the neighbor’s car backfiring and when she saw the alarm clock on her bedside table flashing at her, she had hit a sleepy Bob on the chest and scrambled out of bed.

After grabbing whatever is closest to dress herself with, she’s barrelling down the hallway, slapping a hand onto each door she passes, swinging it open, and calling inside for her kids to wake up. But when she reaches your door, she finds that it’s locked.

“Hey,” she hits the door once, “come on, we’re late.”

She’s happy to hear a ‘be right there!’ from inside the room, so she spins around and tucks in Jonathan’s shirt when he practically trips through his doorway and then gives Will a kiss on the cheek when he steps out of his room.

Bob’s struggling to get his tie on straight when Joyce walks into the living room and she gives him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to tighten it for him.

“How do you still manage to look so beautiful when you’ve just woken up?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh, Bob,” Joyce smiles, flattening his shirt collar.

“I can drive the kids to school,”

“No, that’s okay. I can do it.”

“I can drive them on my way to work. It’ll be easier. Plus, I get to spend some time with them.”

It never amazes Joyce how after three years, Bob still wants to be as close to her kids as possible. The truly beautiful thing about that is how they want to be just as close to him as well.

“It’ll be great,” he smiles, giving her a quick kiss and scooping the car keys off of the coffee table.

He jingles them in his hand as he calls out to the family that he’ll be their driver for the morning, patting Will on the back who’s been scooping papers and books into his backpack.

“Here, mom,” Jonathan says beside Joyce, handing her an overspilling mug of coffee.

“Oh, Jonathan, thank you,” she smiles, pulling him to her to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

He chuckles, craning his face away from her with a loud ‘mom!’ which she laughs at. When he’s jogging over to the front door, another one of Joyce��s kids creeps up beside her and she tries not to spill even more coffee onto the floor.

“Hey, Jonathan!” You call and he spins around. “I’m taking the car this morning, okay?”

“No, I’m driving,” Bob smiles, jingling the car keys again. “I’ll finish an hour early and pick you up from work.”

Jonathan snickers. “You can’t always be the driver,”

“Hey,” you put your hands on your hips. “I bought that car, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go,”

Being a big family of five, there are only three cars shared between you all. Joyce has her car, Bob has his, and you had bought a car in your senior year of high school which was passed down onto Jonathan after you graduated, now that he’s in his senior year.

Every so often, driving arrangements change. Sometimes Joyce will drive everyone, sometimes you would take the boys to school, and sometimes Bob will drive the whole lot. Exactly what he’s doing this morning. Good timing, too, as Joyce has plans in the afternoon.

The great thing, which is as much of a relief as it is appreciated, is how no one complains. The only time Joyce has ever heard an argument about who gets the car you bought is when Jonathan has a date with Nancy and you have other plans. But fights never get out of hand around here, thankfully.

“Look at you,” Joyce tsks, placing a hand on your cheek. “Did you not get any sleep last night?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand. “I guess work is just wearing me out.”

“Maybe you should call in sick?”

“Next time,” you smile.

She rubs your back, giving you that motherly smile she knows she’s adopted over the years.

When Will finally has his backpack sorted, he calls out a goodbye and races over to Jonathan who gives him a one-armed hug, walking out of the door together. Another relief, knowing that everyone is so close with each other. Even more so because of all of the strange things going on in Hawkins.

“Hey, mom, I want to ask you something,” you say, stepping in front of her.

“Okay,” she looks down at her watch. “Just don’t be too late.”

“I won’t. The thing is... I’ve been seeing this guy and I was wondering if maybe he could come over for dinner so that everyone can meet him?”

The mug almost slips from Joyce’s hands when you say that and she reminds herself to act calm.

“Huh?” She speaks, shrugging a shoulder and putting on a casual face. “Oh, yeah. That’s fine. Whatever you want, sweetie.”

“You sure?”

The look you give her makes Joyce thinks she’s caught but she keeps playing it cool, hoping that you won’t poke around. You’ve never been one to let things go easily. She supposes you get that from her.

“Of course. I’d love to meet him.”

“Great, me too,” you smile, giving her a quick hug.

With a goodbye, you’re out the door where Bob is still waiting, sending Joyce a wink which she nods to and then he’s gone.

Honestly, Joyce already knows you have a boyfriend. There isn’t a lot that hides under her nose, especially in her home, but she’s got to give credit where credit is due and thank Bob for installing all those cameras around the house.

It’s how they found out in the first place. Bob was in his study, pouring over all the security footage like he does every night after work. The kids were either watching TV or in bed—which you were, seeing as you were so eager to go to sleep.

He waved her in with a ‘Joyce, honeybun, I think you need to see this,’ when she came to ask if he wanted anything, and she stood beside him as he rewinded the footage and pointed at the figure creeping along the back of the house.

“Is that a burglar?” She gasped, leaning forward to squint at the screen as if she could make out who it was.

“I don’t think so,”

“Why is he climbing in our window?”

“Honey, that is our daughter’s window,”

It only took her three seconds of scrunching up her eyes at Bob who gave her a knowing look for her to understand what was going on, all the dots connecting in her head.

“She has a boyfriend!?” She practically screamed, quickly lowering her voice when she remembered the study door was wide open. “And she didn’t tell me?”

“It’s okay,”

“Bob, she’s got a boyfriend—” and then within another breath, she smiled excitedly. “This is so great!”

After all the horrible things Hawkins has to offer had happened, really throwing hands at her family, Joyce was over the moon with joy when she found out about your secret relationship.

It’s hard to go back to a routine when you’ve faced demogorgons on the weekend, especially when they were so close to hurting them—her boy, Will, and Bob as well. So, to know that you were acting like a regular teenager made her the happiest she’s been since she said ‘I do.’

To think, her child, regular at last.

She and Bob had both agreed to not say a word. If you were keeping the relationship a secret, it had to be for a good reason, and they knew that, in time, you’d eventually tell them.

But it would get a little hard to keep a poker face when she’d hear your bedroom window slide open, or that time he had tripped on his way in and landed on the floor loudly, or when she had caught you on your way back to bed with a glass of water, shutting the door when she approached and noticing the leather jacket that was caught in between it.

There isn’t anything wrong with leather jackets and, truly, she’s had a thing for guys in leather before, but she just hopes that whoever this guy is—as all she’s ever seen of him is from the security footage, so she’s only made out long hair and dirty shoes—that he’s not some kind of delinquent.

Now, she’s going to find out just who your mystery boyfriend is and she hopes he likes chicken because that’s all she’s got in the fridge.

─────── ⋯ ───────

When you tell Eddie that your mom is more than happy to have him over for dinner, he smiles wider than the day you told him that you had listened to Iron Maiden. But when you say that she is happy for it to happen the same night, his face drops like a ton of bricks.

“Tonight?” He asks, fiddling with his rings. “Like in... five hours?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, pulling him in by the vest to wrap your arms around him. “Is that too fast?”

“No, I just...”

“What?”

“I was going to buy some nice clothes...”

You feel your heart do the running man in your chest with how he wants to make a good first impression on your parents, but you know it’s not needed.

“Eddie, if you just be yourself, they’ll love you.”

He grins at that, pulling you in close to kiss you. His lips taste like the strawberries you both shared for lunch, though you had wanted him to eat an actual meal. When it’s not particularly busy at work, you eat lunch with him in the staff room, even though he stops by almost every day to say hello.

There were a few times when you had to hide him behind the counter when your dad gave you a surprise visit, offering a bag full of lunch he had bought on his way over. The little stinker Munson would pinch your thighs for fun and once you had kneed him directly in the chest, slamming him back against the shelving and having to play off his groan as you accidentally knocked your knee.

Eddie can’t help it. He loves to have fun and by any means possible, really. You just know that after tonight when you both don’t have to sneak around anymore, he’ll be twelve times more sprightly.

“How’s your campaign?” You ask, reaching over to grab the package of Cheez Balls he had brought with him.

“Good,” he nods, diving a hand into the tin as soon as you open it. “Will’s a really smart kid.”

“Yeah, I saw him throw some character sketches into his bag before we left this morning. He loves those sessions with you.”

That’s how you first met Eddie, through your baby brother’s fixation with Dungeons and Dragons. He was so happy to know that there was a club going on at high school, having feared that everyone would have grown out of it by now, and so joining Hellfire is one of the best things that’s happened to him recently.

You’re always going to be extremely thankful to Eddie for taking in your brother like he has. You’ve always looked out for him and this year has been the first that you haven’t had anything strange happen, so he’s getting the chance to be a normal teenager.

Really, in a way, Will is the one to thank for you getting with Eddie. When you had picked up your brother from a session one night, Eddie had walked him out to the car and instantly you were in love.

All Eddie has ever done since the start is shown in many different ways how much he cares for everyone and how big a heart he has. If that isn’t attractive, you don’t know what is.

Oh, wait a minute. His rings...

He pipes up, “Do you think it’ll be weird?”

You’re thrown out of your thoughts by his question but you don’t exactly know what he means.

“What will?” You ask, popping a cheese ball into your mouth.

“The fact that Will is going to find out that his Dungeon Master is also his sister’s boyfriend.”

You shrug. “He’ll be fine with it. Might be a little surprised but I think he’s gonna love the fact that his favorite DM is with his favorite sister.”

Eddie laughs. “You’re his only sister.”

Furrowing your brows, you chew on another cheese ball. “What’s your point?”

He finds that even more fun but you just smile in victory at having made him laugh. He might love Metalica and Black Sabbath, but you’re always going to believe that his laugh is the best song in the world.

No band can beat that.

When Eddie eventually leaves with a kiss on the cheek and a wave goodbye, you count down the minutes until your shift is over. You spend the rest of it idly as it’s pretty quiet today until your dad picks you up an hour early from his job just as he promised.

When you arrive home—Jonathan and Will having been picked up by your mom—you walk into the house that smells of smoke and the sounds of frustrated murmurings.

“What’s going on?” You ask as you and your dad step into the kitchen after giving each other a look.

There’s a dark cloud hanging over in the room as your mom waves an oven mitt at the open oven. She spins around at the sound of your voice, flashing an anxious smile.

“I burnt some of the chicken,” she says, scratching her head.

“Oh, honey,” Bob coos, walking over to her and peering into the oven. “It doesn’t look too bad. There’s still more than enough for the six of us.”

“I still have to make a salad,”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, shrugging your jacket off. “Let me get changed and I’ll make one.”

She breathes out a relieved ‘thank you,’ as you head to your bedroom and on the way, you bump into Jonathan who has got half of two shirts on; one sleeve on one arm and the other sleeve on the next.

“Hey,” he smiles, but quickly looks back down at the shirts. “Which one do you think is better?”

You furrow your brows, perplexed at what your brother is doing.

“Is Nancy coming over?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I’m asking for you.”

Smiling, you can’t help but feel really happy about how much he cares. Despite being younger than you, he’s always acted like your big brother but, honestly, you don’t mind. He’s one of the best.

“Left,” you say, pointing at the shirt.

He nods. “I thought so too. Thanks,”

You chuckle as he dashes into his bedroom and you head into your bedroom, looking around for some clothes to wear for tonight. You’ve never been too fussed over how you look but tonight is kinda a big deal and you want to look your best.

When you’re straightening your clothes in the mirror, someone knocks at your door and you turn to see Will in one of Bob’s old button-down shirts.

“Don’t you look handsome?” You say, and he smiles wide.

“You look great,” he says. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. He’s a pretty big deal to me.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

Now, Will is a smart kid. If you tell him the truth, two things are going to happen; first, he’s going to ask you why you’ve been keeping it a secret for so long and second, he’s going to do the math and realize you’ve had a boyfriend around the time you met Eddie.

He’s going to find out soon, anyway, about who you’re dating, but until that actually happens, you’re keeping up with the routine.

“Just a little while,” you shrug. “I really like him, though, so I want you all to meet him.”

“I’m sure he’s great,”

You walk over to him and kiss his forehead. “So are you.”

Will smiles, quickly leaving the room after telling you that you should wear the new perfume you bought recently and you take him up on his offer, spraying yourself a couple times before walking into the kitchen to help your mom by preparing a salad.

Bob has cut up the chicken onto a platter while Jonathan set the table, and Will helps him with the last few items before you hand him the bowl to take with him.

The sound of an engine grows nearer outside, accompanied by blaring music from a stereo, which is quickly shut off as lights begin to pull into the driveway.

Will and Jonathan are leaping over to the couch against the window, nudging open the blinds to get a peek at who’s arrived.

“He’s here!” Will calls out, watching the headlights turn off.

“He drives a van,” Jonathan says, looking at you over his shoulder. “Strike one.”

“Stop,” you say, smacking your hand against his arm.

Both he and Will chuckle—not out of mockery but by your reaction—and then Will’s gasping as he shoves the blinds closed, eyes straight at the front door when there’s a knock against the wood.

“Okay,” your mom says, walking into the living room and waving her hands. “Nobody panic. Just calm down.”

“We’re not the ones panicking, mom,” Jonathan smiles.

Your mom lets out a breathless chuckle as Bob steps beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine,” he looks over at you. “Want me to get the door?”

“No, I’ll get it,”

With a quick prepared breath, you spin on your heel and walk over to the front door, wrapping your fingers around the handle and pulling it open and you see your beautiful boyfriend standing on the doorstep with a black shirt and one of his more stable jackets.

Even without buying any new clothes, he’s put a lot of effort into his appearance. His shoes are sturdier than the white Reeboks he usually wears, so you think he might have gotten them from his uncle. But he still has the chain attached to the loops of his jeans and it makes you smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” he grins.

For just a few seconds, that becomes a moment just for the two of you, then you’re stepping to the side so that he can come in, and your family are almost circling him the moment he does.

“Hello,” your mom beams, approaching him with your dad still beside her.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, stretching out a hand to shake your mom’s hand, who does so a little too eagerly. “These are for you.”

He’s bought a bouquet of flowers with him, all pretty colors of pinks and yellows, and you think that’s where his money went into. Your mom takes the flowers happily, smiling up at Bob who looks just as gleeful.

“Thank you, Eddie. They’re lovely,”

“I’m Bob,” your dad says, shaking Eddie’s hand. “And that right over there is the man of the house,”

There’s a chuckle from Jonathan when Bob points a finger at him, but he seems especially stiff when giving Eddie a nod in acknowledgement. Will, on the other hand, is standing there with an agape expression, looking completely shocked.

“Hey, Will the Wise,” Eddie grins, reaching over to mess up your brother’s hair.

He’s quick to fix it and though the room goes silent for a moment, he’s breaking out into a confused but excited grin which eases your worries. For a moment, you thought he went lifeless on you.

“You’re the boyfriend,” Will says.

“Do you know each other?” Your mom inquires, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, we play Dungeons and Dragons together,”

Your mom beams a hundred voltages brighter at that, though her eyes are about as wide as saucers.

“The Hellfire Club?” She asks.

Eddie smiles, rocking on his heels. “Yeah, every Wednesday night.”

You know your mom is already won over by Eddie the second she realizes that he’s the guy who Will’s been talking about excitedly over breakfast. Since he joined the club with his friends, he’s been wearing the Hellfire shirt around the house like it’s attached to him. You’ve even seen him sleep in it.

“Come, sit down,” your mom waves her hands. “Let’s eat.”

She’s content staring at the flowers when she walks into the kitchen and everyone begins to follow. Eddie sneaks an arm around your waist, smiling at you.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve used the door,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, shushing him and heading over to the table. Eddie’s on the move before a hand grabs his shoulder and he’s turning around to meet the stern gaze of your brother.

“Hey, man,” he says. “Long time, no see.”

Jonathan smiles only for a moment, something extremely short-lived.

“That was a one-time thing,” he grunts. “You better not have been giving any weed to my sister—”

“No way, she doesn’t touch the stuff. Don’t worry, I’d never pressure her into anything she didn’t want.”

“You better not, and this stays between us.”

“Sure,” Eddie nods. “My lips are sealed between you, me, and purple palm tree delight,”

He lets out a humorous chuckle at Jonathan’s deadpan stare before heading over to the dining room to see all the food laid out on the table. You’re smiling at him happily, patting the chair next to you, and he almost skips over to sit beside you.

Your mom apologizes about the lack of dinner but Eddie’s shaking his head, telling her that it’s more than enough and it’s much better than the canned food he’s so used to having.

Conversation flows very smoothly when plates are filled up, and Eddie answers every question put to him by your parents and your brothers, though Will is mostly just giddily listening because here’s his hero with his big sister.

Eddie opens up about a lot of things, mainly his life with his uncle and how he got into music. It’s clearly a very interesting topic to your dad who leans into the discussion with a curious grin, nodding along to the origin of the name ‘Corroded Coffin.’

In turn, Bob talks about how he founded the Hawkins AV Club, saying that he could be a player in one of Eddie’s D&D sessions since he was nicknamed ‘Bob the Brain,’ but how Will is always telling him how embarrassing that would be.

It’s lovely when everyone at the table laughs, making the atmosphere feel really comfortable. They take a liking to Eddie right away and you feel so warm in the chest at the scene.

“So,” Bob passes the salad onto Joyce who scoops a pile into Eddie’s plate. “What kind of songs do you play?”

“We play a few covers,” Eddie replies. “But we’ve been working on some original music.”

“That’s cool,” Will smiles.

“And you play at the Hideout?” Joyce asks and when Eddie nods, she smiles. “We should come to see you play sometime.”

“Yeah!” Bob lights up. “A big family outing. We’ll be cheering for you in the crowd.”

Eddie chuckles, hiding half of his smile into the palm of his hand when he props his elbow onto the table.

“I didn’t know you listened to that kind of music, dad,” you say after taking a sip of your water.

“Yeah, of course. I was super into Led Zeppelin in my teens,”

He mimics an air guitar, smiling over at your mom who’s shaking her head with that face that both says ‘I love you’ and ‘you amaze me.’

“Nice,” Eddie says. “Do you play?”

“Oh, no. Not anymore.”

“You can jam with me one day. I have a gorgeous Warlock NJ you can use.”

You hum, turning to him. “I think that guitar gets more love than me sometimes.”

He scrunches up his nose, shaking his head as he reaches over to hold your hand, and you’re glad that he kept the rings on, too.

“You know,” Bob says, waving his fork around. “I’m actually a big Dio fan myself.”

Eddie furrows his brows for a moment, leaning in closer to the table. “How did you know I like Dio?”

“Because it’s on your vest—”

The second he says it, the room falls deadly silent. Everyone, including you, is sitting in their chairs confused, but only you, Eddie, and your dad know the reason.

Eddie isn’t wearing his Dio vest.

“Dad...?” You question, watching the way he sits frozen with a slightly open mouth.

“Hmm?” He hums, coming back to life, and shoving the piece of chicken on his fork right into his mouth.

You might have shaken the suspicion away if it weren’t for the guilty face your mom wears, who immediately starts stabbing the salad on her plate when you give her a look.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathe out. “They know.”

Somehow, your parents know that you’ve been sneaking Eddie in through your bedroom window nearly every night. But how could they have found out when you tried so hard to be careful about it?

Both you and Eddie took every precaution with the secrecy of it all. You would keep your door locked, Eddie would only come over on foot, not risking the sound of his van pulling up in the street, and he would leave only after the house was empty or while everyone was too busy at the front, usually resulting in Eddie jumping over the bushes in the backyard.

You are completely confused about where the two of you slipped up in all of this.

“All right,” your mom sighs, nodding at Bob and placing her hand on top of his. “Your father and I know about Eddie,”

“Wait, what?” Jonathan asks. “What’s going on?”

“Bob has the cameras and we—”

You groan. “Oh no,”

“We,” your mom emphasises, “just happened to stumble upon some footage of him climbing through the window and—”

“You did what?” Jonathan snaps, looking at Eddie.

He’s got that big brother look in his eye that warns Eddie to answer him very carefully and you tighten your hold of his hand, hoping that your younger brother doesn’t do anything rash like tackle Eddie over the dinner table.

Think about all the food that will be wasted.

“Okay, okay,” Bob extends his hands, gesturing for everyone to sit back in their chairs. “Clearly, there’s been some secrets in the family, but we want you to know that we aren’t mad at you.”

Joyce shakes her head with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You aren’t?” You ask, slowly relaxing after having tensed up at the bombshell that was dropped over dinner.

“No,” your mom shakes her head, face scrunched up. “I did a lot of sneaking around when I was your age.”

“We thought we’d let you tell us when you were ready,” Bob says.

As much as it is unbelievably understanding of them—though they’ve always been that way—you can’t help but feel embarrassed about it, especially of how it came out. You can’t believe you forgot all about the security cameras your dad installed. Sure, the tech side of it goes over your head but, hell, you thought you’d catch it.

Turns out, you and Eddie aren’t as sneaky as you thought you were.

“Well...” you let out a deep breath, still processing. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Bob says.

It falls a little quiet after that with the exception of Jonathan’s knife scraping against the plate as he stares at Eddie while cutting into his chicken. Instead, you send Will a silly look when he catches your attention and he snickers.

“So,” Eddie pipes up, looking at your dad. “Would now be a bad time for me to ask if I could get some work experience with you?”

Bob perks up, mouth curved cheerfully. “Work with me?”

“Only if that’s okay. I’m just looking for a job right now and your daughter’s told me a lot about you,”

He looks ten times more happy than before, wearing a proud dad look on his face.

“Of course. I can always do with more workers. You know how to work electronics?”

“Just the basics, you know; toaster, VHS, and guitar amps, but I’m willing to learn and I’m great at fixing things.”

Bob chuckles. “You’re a clever guy, that’s good.”

When he’s too distracted by passing the food down to Will at the end of the table, you lean into Eddie’s side and whisper, “Told you.”

There was no doubt in your mind that your dad would take Eddie on to work with him at Radio Shack and now you get to visit him at his job for lunch instead of the other way around, though your dad will most likely join in as well.

Maybe Eddie will have to wear a dress shirt and tie just like your dad does. Hmm, that could be interesting.

It’s Will’s disgusted scoff that draws you out from your thinking, giving him a strange look until you realize that you and Eddie are huddled together at the table, hand in hand, and have been staring at each other for the past twenty seconds.

“Yeah,” Jonathan nods, pointing his pinky at Will. “Ew.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re one to talk,”

There are not enough fingers on your hand to count the times you’ve caught Jonathan sucking face with Nancy and the lipstick stains she leaves on his skin afterwards. If anything is disgusting, it’s that.

“Hey, Eds,” Bob speaks, and you get all giddy at the nickname. “Can you start Monday?”

“Yeah,” he nods excitedly. “Absolutely.”

“Great, this will be great,”

Not just that, you think, but this whole thing has been great. Your parents have welcomed Eddie with open arms, Jonathan seems to be on the fence but either way, you know he can tell you’re smitten, and Will is over the moon that the head of the Hellfire Club is eating dinner at his house.

Tonight could not have gone any smoother, in fact, you’re sure you’re going to hear only good things once Eddie leaves for the night—since there’s absolutely no way that he’s staying and if he tries, you’ll kick him in the shins.

Those flowers he bought for your mom are going to be displayed in a vase for weeks, or for as long as she can keep them alive, and you’re going to smile every time you see them.

Thank goodness you’re a Byers, Bob included.

“And hey,” your dad suddenly says, “maybe I can teach you a few things about security cameras.”

Well, choking on your chicken is the only bad thing to happen tonight. Otherwise, it’s the best night you’ve had in a long time.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist: @dameronology @overly-obsessed-with-you @doublesunsets @shadowhuntyi @munsonology @compassgenius @thefaeriemagic3

[riality-check]

Hi!! I bought the wonderful @lazylittledragon’s Steddie dads zine last night, and in that time I’ve read it twice and loved every second of it. One of the panels (for those of you who have the zine, it’s page 42; for those of you who don’t, it’s a panel of Steve and Eddie sitting on a bed, holding each other, while Steve cries and Eddie says “I’ve got you.”) has lived rent fucking free in my brain, and it’s inspired 1k of whatever the hell this is. 

If you haven’t already bought the zine, do it now, it’s so incredibly worth it!! Anyway, bon appetit.

————————————————————————

Steve doesn’t know why he’s freaking out so much. He’s not the one literally growing a person. He’s been pretty much fine this entire time. He’s held Eddie’s hair back when the morning sickness got bad and he’s bought baby clothes and he’s read so much (even though he can’t read for shit) of those little parenting books they have at the library.

Steve has been fine this entire time. He’s pushed back all his anxiety and every other remotely negative emotion because Eddie needs him. Eddie needs all the reassurance and comfort and joy that Steve can give him regarding this kid, and Steve is more than happy to give it. He’s got a nearly infinite supply.

But right now, on this random afternoon in July, everything that Steve has been holding back so carefully is coming to the surface.

In four months or so, he’s going to be a dad. He’s going to have a little, tiny, helpless baby utterly dependent on him for everything.

And Steve knows he’s going to fuck it up.

God. Steve loves this kid so much already. He thinks about who she’s gonna look like more (he hopes it’s Eddie). He sings to her, even when Eddie laughs and tells him to stop. He wonders how much she’ll cry, what her favorite food is going to be, what her first word will be, where she’ll take her first steps. 

He’s so excited to meet her, and he’s so scared, too.

Because love doesn’t prevent people from fucking things up. Steve doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind that he is going to love this kid. But he’s worried that he’s going to make every mistake in the book.

What if he can’t get her to sleep? What if he can’t get her to eat? He doesn’t even know how to change a diaper!

What if he ends up putting his issues on to her? What if he loves her enough to make her resent him for it? 

(Wouldn’t be the first time.)

What if-

There’s a knock on the door. “Steve?”

Shit.

Steve tries to wipe his eyes and steady his voice before he answers, “Yeah.”

It doesn’t quite work.

“Can I come in? You’ve been gone a little while.”

Steve wipes his eyes some more and sucks all the snot he can back up his nose. He hopes Eddie doesn’t notice. “Sure.”

The door opens, and Eddie stands there for a minute, just looking Steve over. He looks good, he always does, even in a plain black sweatshirt and ratty old jeans.

Steve watches in real time as an expression of sympathy takes over his face.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, and yeah, that’s enough for Steve to start crying again.

He curls up and buries his face in his arms and doesn’t look up, not even when Eddie sits next to him on the bed. He puts his arms around him, just holding, and when Steve can feel Eddie’s belly pressed against his leg, he cries harder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie says.

This is stupid. I’m not the one who should be stressed out.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Eddie asks after a minute. He rubs soothing circles on Steve’s back.

“It’s stupid,” Steve gasps out.

“If you’re crying over it, it’s not stupid,” Eddie says gently.

“It is. I’m not the one doing the work.”

Steve can feel it when Eddie laughs. The gentle shake of his whole body makes Steve stop crying for just a second.

“You’re doing work, Steve.”

“I’m not the one growing a person.”

Eddie pulls back a little and looks at Steve seriously. “Just because you don’t have the parasite doesn’t mean you’re not doing work. You’ve gone shopping and you’ve cooked and you’ve cleaned and you’ve taken care of me. Does that not count as work?”

“No.”

“If we flipped the situation, and I was doing all that, would you still think that?”

Steve hates when Eddie is right.

“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed, Steve.”

Steve sniffles. “You need me, though.”

“I do,” Eddie says. “I’m always going to need you. But you’re allowed to need me, too, okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I know.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“I know!” Steve insists with a wet laugh.

“Okay,” Eddie smiles, and it’s the kind of smile Steve always wants to be the reason for. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna fuck this up.”

Eddie snorts. “So am I. You’re not special.”

“No, like,” Steve struggles for the words. “I’ve never been around kids-”

“Neither have I.”

“-and I don’t even know how to do basic shit-”

“That’s why Joyce is teaching us.”

Steve gives Eddie a look. “I know you’re trying to be reassuring, but can you let me finish?”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie mimes zipping his mouth closed.

It’s stupid little things like that that make Steve wonder how he got so lucky.

“I’m worried,” Steve swallows. “I’m worried that I’m gonna fuck up this kid enough to be just like me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Steve. You are nothing like your parents.”

“I know! I know that. I have no doubt about loving this kid. I’m just afraid that - I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay not to know.”

“I’m so afraid that I’m going to be overbearing and end up suffocating her,” Steve whispers.

Eddie stares at him for a good, long moment. Finally, he says, “Are you worried about loving her too much?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Steve mutters.

Eddie takes his face in his hands and looks him dead in the eyes. “Not stupid.”

Eddie kisses him, soft and sweet and slow, and Steve kisses him back just as soft, just as sweet, and just as slow.

“You make me feel like the luckiest man on earth every single day,” Eddie says, Steve’s face still in his hands. “This kid is so goddamn lucky to be loved by you.”

Steve can’t help it; he starts crying again. Eddie wraps his arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he says again.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Mandela Prophet AU: Catalyst

Evelin wakes up to hear knocking on her door, from someone she wasn't expecting to see again.

TW: blood, body horror

Notes: this is around. 3'500 words long, and takes place right after THIS fic! So. hope you enjoy this!!

Adam dreaded what he had to do.

His feet scraped across the damp concrete of the sidewalk, his clothes beginning to become soaked from the sudden rain. He hunched over, his black hood pulled over his head as he pressed his crossed arms over his sore chest. He stared at the ground in front of him, looking away from any puddles he stepped over, lest he see his own, haggard reflection. He didn’t want to remember how he looked; how dead and sickly his own appearance had become.

He glanced towards the houses he passed by, the streetlights nearby illuminating the dark street as he searched for the right one. He felt exhausted; wanting nothing more than falling asleep somewhere and not waking up until morning. However, as his eyes spotted a familiar house, he let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath as he attempted to brush off his desire to rest for just a little while longer. He thought intently to himself as he approached the home, standing in front of the door for a few moments before he raised his shaking, thin hand, and knocked on the door.

Evelin was sleeping in her room when she heard the knocks from her front door. She awoke, eyes slowly opening when she heard the knocks again, sounding heavier and louder than before. She laid still for a few more moments before letting out a sigh and throwing the covers off of her, walking towards the lamp in her room before turning it on. She glanced at the electronic clock on her nightstand, it reading 3:23 AM in bright red text. She stared at the time for a few more moments of silence, all before she opened her bedroom door and walked down the hallway. She was wearing a plain, black, long sleeved shirt along with baggy grey sweatpants as pajamas, not bothering to get dressed as she walked through her house, towards the front door.

Adam waited, shuddering slightly as he stared at the ground before he heard the locks on the door click. He looked up to see the door crack open slightly, a tired Evelin looking up at him before her eyes widened slightly. She remained silent and strangely still before Adam forced himself to speak.

“E…Eve—”

Evelin slammed the door shut on his face.

Eve stared at the door as she heard Adam knocking on it from the other side. “Eve? Come on, please just…listen to me.” Adam stated.

“I-I…I don’t…” Eve shook her head. “Why? I thought you hated me.”

“I never said I hated you—”

“You acted like it.” Eve responded, trying to cover up the fact that she felt the urge to cry.

“Look…I…I need to talk to you, okay?” Adam sighed.

“I’m…done talking to you.”

“Can you just listen?” Adam paced around Eve’s porch as he thought to himself. “Look, something happened, and I need…” Adam paused, considering whether he wanted to say the thing he needed to. He took in a breath before hesitantly choking it out. “…I need your help.”

The silence made Adam’s hair stand on end.

“Help?” Eve said, her voice sounding closer to the door than before. “I’ve tried to help you…but you never accepted it. How can I help you if you refuse to let me help you?”

Adam stood still, not answering the question as he thought to himself intently. He looked back at the front door, wondering if Eve was truly the best person to talk to. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Okay, I get it. I was a dick.” Adam said. “I’m not asking to get back together or even be friends I just…need…help, okay? Or at the very least I just…need to talk. Even if after tonight we…never see each other again.”

Adam stood in front of the door, his arms crossed and his head low, wondering just how guilty he truly felt; he meant everything he said to Eve at the moment, even if said things were harsh. He didn’t think he hated her, though he had a feeling Eve didn’t feel the same way, and at that point he couldn’t care less. As the silence continued, Adam sighed, turning away to walk the long journey back to his vehicle before he heard the chain lock on the door be taken off and the door open.

“Ten minutes.” Eve stated. “You get ten minutes to explain yourself.”

Adam sat on the couch in Evelin’s living room as she stared at him from a chair to the side of it, her eyes and body language showing her unsaid discomfort. Adam scratched his head, thinking deeply about how he could possibly start his explanation before Eve spoke up.

“Is this about…our argument from a while back?”

“No.” Adam shook his head, staring at the ground as he folded his thin hands in front of him. “It’s…it’s not.”

“…What…happened to you anyway?” Evelin asked, staring at Adam’s face. “You…you look—”

“I know.” Adam responded quietly. “I…I look like shit; I feel like…shit.”

Eve glanced away as she let out a breath. “What do you need from me?” She asked quietly. “It’s nearly four in the morning; I’d…assume it was serious.”

“…Yeah.”

“What can I do then?” Eve asked. “You’re…not telling me much.”

“Evelin.” Adam stated. “…I…something is…wrong.” He paused for a second. “With me.”

“Like…what?”

“…I…don’t even…know.” Adam said quietly. “I don’t even know.”

Evelin sighed before standing up. “You want…water or something?”

“…Sure.”

Eve walked past Adam and into her small kitchen grabbing a couple cups from the cabinet as Adam thought to himself. He heard the faucet running for a second as he considered his next words, all before sucking up his worry and spitting them out.

“I’m sorry.”

Eve became still, looking back at Adam on the couch. “…What?”

“…I’m sorry.” He repeated, sounding more defeated then before. “…And I hate that this is what it took for me to say that.”

“Adam, what do you mean—”

“Eve.” Adam looked up at Evelin, his dilated eyes staring at her with a look of pensiveness; a new expression coming from him, at least to Evelin. “…I fucked up.”

Evelin looked at him, relaxing slightly as he saw Adam look back down, seemingly thinking. “…I-I fucked up.” He repeated in a quieter voice than before. “Look I…there’s…something…wrong with me. There’s always been something fucking wrong; I see it now.”

Evelin watched as he held his head low, not making eye contact even once. She placed the two cups of water on the counter, all before walking towards Adam and hesitantly sitting next to him on the couch.

“I’m…there’s something…inside of me that…wants out.” Adam choked out his words, thinking of ways to say what he needed to but struggling to do so. “It…it wants to…hurt people. A-And I don’t want to hurt anyone, that’s never been something I wanted to do, never—”

“Adam, what are you talking about?” Evelin questioned, unable to cloak the worry in her voice.

“I’ve KILLED people, Evelin.”

Eve grew silent, sitting up straight and staring at Adam with widened eyes as he began to silently cry. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say before Adam spoke up instead.

“I’ve…I’ve killed people. Multiple people.” Adam admitted. “I…But it wasn’t…me.”

“Adam.” Eve said quietly, almost scared to take her eye off of him.

“…Eve?” Adam glanced only vaguely in her direction as he swallowed hard. “…My body doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

Eve looked away, unable to even begin to process the words she was told as the two became silent, all that was being heard was faint crying from Adam and the sound of the crickets outside. All before Adam shuddered, hunching over as he pressed his hand against his chest. Eve turned back towards him, seeing that he was staring at the ground with widened eyes.

“Oh God.” He choked out, his voice barely audible. “God please not now.”

“Adam…What the actual fuck do you mean?!” Eve questioned, Adam barely registering that she was even speaking as he felt something shifting in his stomach. “Y-You…You killed someone?!”

“E…Eve—”

Evelin quickly stood up, staring at Adam with horror as he began trembling, staring back at her with widened eyes. “I’m calling the fucking cops.” Evelin stated, her voice audibly shaking. “…get the fuck out of my house. Now.”

“W-wait, don’t do that,” Adam quickly stood up, grasping his stomach with one shaking arm while holding his other towards Evelin. “Please, this is serious—”

“GET OUT!” Evelin commanded, her voice cracking as she tried to resist the urge to cry.

“For the love of God, Evelin PLEASE—” Adam was interrupted when he abruptly lurched forward, pressing his hands against his torso as he let out a surprised and pained yell. He stumbled a few steps forward, looking down at his chest in confusion before Evelin quickly stepped backwards. Adam looked up to see her rushing towards a landline phone on the wall as he weakly held up his hand towards her.

“Eve…listen to me.” He exhaled, his breathing quickening despite feeling something pressing against his lungs. “Don’t do that, it’ll be a mistake, please just—” another jerk in his torso caused him to stumble once again, slamming against the wall with his side as he winced. He looked back at Evelin, who was staring back in confused horror with the phone in her hand. Adam pushed himself away from the wall, stepping forward and around the couch as he stared at Evelin, holding his hand out once again in an attempt to show he wasn’t a threat, despite not being sure if he wasn’t.

“Eve…” He began, feeling a pressure in his throat as he tried to force his words out. He swallowed hard, and managed to choke out two words: “I’m…sorry.” He began to back away, stumbling over his feet as he glanced behind him, seeing the front door and his way out of there. He took one last look at Evelin, who was still staring at him with a cold, fearful gaze, one that made a pit form in Adam’s gut; one that pierced his very soul, if he even had one anymore. Adam wanted to cry, though he knew that his tears had run out a long time ago.

He turned, walking towards the door before he froze. He felt something shift under the hand clutching his stomach, causing him to let out a quick yell before falling to his knees. He looked down at himself, wrapping his arms around himself as he fell onto his back, his breathing becoming heavy and strained as he kicked at the air in an attempt to relieve the growing discomfort. He looked at Evelin, who was backing away, the phone dangling from its cord.

“…A-Adam?” She squeaked. “Adam what’s happening?”

Adam couldn’t give an answer even if he knew it, unable to say anything or let out any sound that wasn’t a gasp or pained yell. He looked down at himself, feeling his ribs shaking and bending in awkward ways. He unzipped his hoodie, looking down at his pale grey shirt before pulling it up, revealing his bare stomach and chest. His ribs were shifting under his skin, in a way that felt familiar yet alien at the same time. He watched as his ribs began bending outwards, pressing against his skin before breaking through, the bones tearing through his skin as they fanned out. Blood dripped and poured from the wounds as Adam shrieked in confusion and horror, his spine bending outward as he began to convulse, his legs kicking and his hands grasping at nothing in particular.

Evelin backed down the hallway, staring at Adam as he writhed on the floor, kicking furniture as blood began to pool onto the wooden floor underneath him. They couldn’t find the words to say, listening to the choir of distorted and agonized screaming coming from the man in their living room.  Adam curled outwards, shutting his eyes tightly as he let out the loudest scream he could muster, barely covering up the sound of his skin tearing. He felt the limbs press against his chest and stomach’s skin, pushing through until they hit open air, sliding out of the open wounds, coated in Adam’s blood. Adam looked down, being able to see his skin stretching and tearing to make room for the parasitic limbs, all before he let his head back down to hit the floor under him, tears silently running down his head.

Evelin screamed, stumbling back further as she stared at Adam, who returned her gaze with horror filled eyes. They stared at each other, Adam going silent for a moment before his body was dragged out of view by the limbs protruding from his torso, with a trail of blood following him. Eve covered her mouth, staring down the hallway at the puddle of blood on the floor as she listened to Adam’s screams from just out of view. The squelching and tearing of skin made Evelin want to vomit, but her throat felt dry despite it. She entered her bedroom, staring down the hall as she did before noticing that Adam’s screams sounded…muffled, and soon enough, they stopped entirely. The thumping of Adam’s flailing limbs and the sound of his skin ripping ceased as well, delving the apartment into an uncomfortable silence. Evelin was too scared to make a sound, silently crying and suppressing her own sobs before she heard something; a voice.

“…E…v…e…lin…?”

“…Adam…?”

“…Are…y…ou…there?” Adam asked, his voice sounding oddly choked and forceful.

“…What…wh-what was that?!” Evelin questioned, feeling white hot tears running down her cheeks.

“…I…c…an’t…s…see…you.”

Evelin heard the sound of shuffling just out of view, like something being dragged along the ground. She stared towards the end of the hallway as the shifting sounded as though it was getting closer. They continued to stare in silence until something came into view near the bottom of the wall; a head. Adam’s head was turned towards her, with only his eyes visible from behind the wall. His eyes were being forced open by blackened, bony fingers, looking around quickly before fixating on Evelin.

“…Found…you.”

Adam’s body was dragged into the hallway by eight humanoid yet mangled and skeletal arms, feeling the walls and floor as it crawled towards Evelin, causing her to shriek and slam the door to the bedroom closed. She stared at the door before she heard banging against it from Adam’s many limbs, Evelin backing away as she sobbed and covered her mouth.

“EEeeveeee…” “Adam” stated. “It’s safe…I’m o…kay…n..ow.”

Evelin shook her head looking frantically around her room for a potential exit before her eyes fixed on the window on the opposite side of the room.

“Evelinnnn, I…have so…me...thing to…s…show you.” Adam droned, his voice being used by something that wasn’t him. Evelin grasped the lamp beside the door, unplugging It before dragging it towards the window. The sound of a loud crash against the door caused her to freeze, letting out a surprised scream as she looked back at the wooden door.  A crack had formed, and with another crash, one of the limbs broke through, feeling around the door for the handle as a couple other hands followed suit. Evelin took in a deep breath before turning back towards the window, holding up the lamp before smashing it against the glass. Both the window and the lamp’s light bulb shattered, with shards of glass falling to the ground in front of Evelin’s bare feet.

She stared at the glass, throwing the lamp down as she pressed her hands against the bug screen of the window, luckily being able to push it out quickly. She felt the glass stab her feet and cut her hands as she pushed herself out of the window, landing on the grass below right as she heard the sound of the door being thrown open. She weakly pushed herself up, looking back at the window before scrambling towards the front of the house; where her car was.

“You…t…rust me…don’t…you?” Adam continued as Evelin sprinted away. Eve ran until she found herself at her car, frantically searching through her pockets for her keys; no luck. She looked back at the house, hearing faint muttering before she ran down the road, trying to ignore the sharp pain in her feet that came with every step. Her breathing was quick and frantic, with her tears barely visible through the rain. She wanted to scream for help, though the fear of being heard by something that wasn’t a friendly face made her throat tight.

She sniffled and sobbed as she ran through town, and despite not hearing “Adam’s” voice behind her anymore, she still couldn’t bring herself to slow down. She ran even as her legs became sore and her body became tense. She looked behind her, seeing nothing but empty streets and the yellow light from the streetlights above. She slowed down, finally stopping as she realized nothing was following her. She looked around, all before she felt her throat become tight and her eyes water. She sat down on the curb, pulling her knees towards her chest and burying her face in her arms, beginning to let out her sobs despite feeling like she had already cried all her tears away.

She sat in the rain, feeling it hit her head and bloodied hands and feet as she silently cried, all before she saw something from the corner of her eye. She flinched, looking up to see headlights approaching. She stood up, stumbling back as the car slowed down beside the sidewalk, all before stopping. She stared at the vehicle before someone opened the driver’s side door, stepping out and looking at her. She felt a wave of relief before she choked out the words: “…Mr. Davis?”

Thatcher walked into view, wearing a leather jacket over a faded “Exorcist” shirt underneath it, along with a pair of worn jeans. He had a scruffy, unshaved beard and his bleached hair draped over the sides of his head. It had a few piercings; a silver septum piercing and earrings. It looked exhausted, though despite its haggard appearance, its gaze felt human; more than Eve could say of Adam.

“What’s going on, are you alright kid?” He asked as he approached carefully.

Eve remained silent, looking at Thatcher as it approached. She stared up at its face, all before coming closer and hugging him tight, happy to see a friendly face. Thatcher returned the favor, all before asking quietly, “What happened?”

“H-He…he…I don’t…I don’t know.” Evelin stammered, their mind going too fast to process their own thoughts. Thatcher looked at Evelin, seeing her cut hands and feet before thinking to himself.

“…You need to get patched up.” He sighed. “Do you mind coming with me? I can get you some help.”

“…I…sure…y-yeah I would…like that.”

Thatcher led Evelin towards his car, opening the passenger door and letting her in before entering from the opposite side. He drove away, glancing at Evelin every few seconds to make sure she was alright. Silence fell between the two for a while, with Eve staring off into space as she rubbed her arms, despite the pain the action did to her hands. Thatcher sighed deeply as it stared back at the road. “There’s a blanket in the back seat, if you’re cold.”

“Oh…Thank you.” Evelin turned towards the back, grabbing the folded up blanket before draping it over her body.

“…What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Thatcher asked, his brows furrowed.

“…I…don’t…I don’t even know.” Evelin responded.

“Can you remember how it started at least?”

“…My…boyfriend…ex-boyfriend came to my house.” She recited. “He…kept…talking about how he…something happened and how he was responsible then…oh God—”

“You don’t…have to tell me right away.” Thatcher stated, causing Evelin to look at him quizzically. “…Just…we’ll focus on getting you patched up and comfortable, okay?”

“…Okay.”

Thatcher looked back at the road, with Evelin looking out of the window as they thought to themself. They glanced once at Thatcher before looking away once again, all before hesitantly speaking.

“How…why were you there?”

“What?”

“Why were you…driving around this late at night?” Evelin asked. “I thought…you didn’t work here anymore.”

Thatcher paused as he thought to itself. “Just…intuition I guess.” It responded. “Something…told me to go there, so…I did.”

Evelin and Thatcher grew silent, looking away from each other before Evelin spoke up once again.

“…Can…I stay with you for a while?”

Thatcher didn’t respond right away, looking at Evelin as he considered the question, all before letting out a sigh.

“…If it makes you comfortable,” He responded. “Then…yes.”

“Thank you.”

Thatcher thought for a moment, all before speaking once again.

“…No problem, kid.” He stated. “Just…try and get some rest when we get there, okay?”

“…I’ll…try.”

Silence fell once again as Thatcher thought to himself, wondering what happened while also refusing to pry at a fresh wound any more than he needed to. He supposed it would have to wait until morning; maybe Evelin would feel better then, he hoped.

[kyanitedragon]

And :re quest is now fully translated!

The blurb on the back of the book:

"Ghouls" that eat people and the [CCC] that hunt them.

The two races that existed in Tokyo were still at odds with each other today.

The Q that loves holidays and loves games.

A conflicted girl in "Aogiri Tree".

Making sweets for an elite group of investigators.

A camera girl who infiltrates the garden of gourmets.

Ripples at the CCG Arts Festival...

Everyday life that was never depicted in the main story.

The long-awaited novel version of the [:re] series!

Marude's Profile from the inner book sleeve:

Marude Itsuki

[Special Investigator (50th Term)]

10/25 | Male | Blood type: O

Size : 177cm/66kg

An elite who has gained experience under Washuu Yoshitoki since he was a newcomer. He learned the key points of investigation and command from him. When he first joined the department, he was on the front line of Section 1, but he retired from the scene after the team he led died.

After being transferred to Section 2, he demonstrated his skills and rose to the rank of Special Investigator. His hobby is a motorcycle, which supports the heart of a person who is single. For several years now, he has been careful to keep Suzuya Juuzou away from his beloved motorcycle.

Chapter 1: Quinquies

Chapter 2: Union

(Already translated by @poclee-blog)

Chapter 3: Effort

Chapter 4: Sponse

Chapter 5: Tension

(Already translated by @kenkamishiro)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Chapter 6: Request