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tojiscumdumpster · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER TEN - READER

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I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve been on plenty of first dates before, so my dating life isn’t completely non-existent. It’s just been a while. But the men that I have gone out with haven’t been Toji Fushiguro.

Okay, so maybe I am a bit nervous.

Despite all the small interactions me and Toji had these past two weeks, I still find myself overthinking about our date.

I mean, everything should go fine, yes? What difference would it make if this wasn’t considered a date and just another spontaneous meeting?

It’s not, Y/N.

I know, but it feels different because we agreed to get to know each other. This man, that I barely know yet feels awfully familiar, manages to put butterflies in my stomach. He kisses me in a way that feels light, and holds me possessively to make me feel like I’m his. And I may be looking ahead of myself, but I wouldn’t mind if he considers me that.

Something about Toji feels right, like I’m almost positive everything will go well between us the more we open up. But Toji isn’t the only one who feels skeptical about this either.

The last time I felt this quickly about someone, I ended up getting my heart broken. That someone being, Nanami.

And knowing me, if I fall in love, I fall hard. . . I want that same sentiment. Nanami gave it to me, but it wasn’t consistent and it didn’t last.

Toji? Well, my heart might be taking a risk if I end up falling in love with a single dad who’s a widow. Let’s also not forget I’m his son’s high school reading teacher.

A lot of what ifs, maybes, and mishaps can happen between us. However, I’m willing to see what happens.

I can’t allow my hesitancy to prevent me from trying because there’s just something about Toji Fushiguro that I get enough of.

While I was finishing up getting ready, I heard a knock at my door.

“Seven-thirty. Oh, he’s early,” I mutter to myself, looking at the time.

Before I go to answer, I take a quick look in the mirror.

Toji didn’t tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing, but I took the hint of him saying I need energy to not wear anything too formal or heels.

So my outfit is simple.

I feel really pretty wearing a white ruffle crop top that sits off my shoulders and pairing it with a russet brown high slit skirt.

I kept my makeup natural, but went a little bolder with my lips by coating them with a brown gloss. And my hair? The wash-and-go I did a few days ago is still on my side, so I just fluffed out my curls with a pick.

I was too busy admiring myself in the mirror, I almost forgot Toji was waiting for me.

Quickly I grabbed my purse and phone to answer the door and I couldn’t prevent my mouth from spreading into a smile upon seeing him.

Can this man get any finer?

I’ve never dated a man where we had a huge age difference, let alone twelve years, but it seems like I was missing out because who knew forty-two could look that good.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Fushiguro.” Immediately his masculine, amber and woody musk scent permeates my senses. Then, I take in his appearance.

How his physique fills out the white sweater and black jeans he’s wearing makes me wet beyond measure. Especially when I know what he looks like underneath. Well, at least not all underneath.

But it looks like I’m not alone with admiring how one looks.

Toji hasn’t said a word to me. He barely acknowledged that I spoke to him, however, the look in his eyes…how he’s staring at me, studying my body and what I’m wearing…

If he keeps looking at me like that, I can guarantee you I’ll say fuck this date and pull him into my apartment.

I’m very tempted, too, since it’s been a while.

“I’m assuming I dressed up nice?” I asked suggestively.

“You’re beautiful.” Not you look, but you are.

His admission makes my cheeks hot.

“Thank you,” I replied while tucking a curl behind my ear. “You came early, I see.”

“Hope that’s okay? Just didn’t feel like waiting another thirty minutes.”

It’s more than okay.

“You’re fine.”

He gives me a small smile. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my things-” If I said I wasn’t nervous, I would be lying because I already have my purse and phone in my hand. “Actually, never mind. I have everything I need.” He gives me a curt nod and waits for me to lock my door.

As we’re walking toward the elevator, Toji’s hand rests on the curve of my back like it’s second nature to him. And it could just be the natural thing to do, guiding me through the halls, despite this being my apartment building.

But it’s those small gestures that are most effective to me.

I show little to no reaction to what his hand on my bare skin does to me. How it transfers warmth to my body and spreads goosebumps across it. It feels good.

Territorial and protective.

I’m not sure where this night with Toji will take me, but I’m ready to see.

Never in a million years would I ever deem Toji Fushiguro to be the type to plan a picnic. Yet here we are.

For a man that claims he’s not looking for a relationship, he sure is making it hard for me to not fall in love with him, especially in this setting. How the sky is a perfect shade of midnight that’s accompanied by the stars and moon, makes it more intimate.

The night isn’t too cold. A soft breeze and lingering heat from earlier today.

Though, what’s making this scenery better is Toji’s pale complexion that contrasts perfectly with the time of day. To think his rich shade of green hues would be complimented the most in the sun, here I am at night being proved wrong.

“A picnic, Mr. Fushiguro? Seems pretty intimate. Don’t you think?” I opted to break the silence because if I stared at this ridiculously attractive man, he would’ve noticed if he hadn’t already.

A small smile curves on his face. “I don’t like being around people when I don’t have to.”

“Oh. Is that your only reason?”

“No, I wanted you alone to myself because I don’t need a fucking server in our faces every two seconds asking if we need refills or a dessert.”

Alone time with you is what I’m worried about.

In more ways than one, Toji has shown me how territorial he can be, and it does not work in my favor when I happen to be turned on by it.

I clear my throat. “Hm, I see.”

“Besides, pretty sure my cooking tastes much better than whatever restaurant I would’ve taken you to.” I watch him unpack a few bento boxes and plastic cups to fill our drinks with. He opted for apple cider and I’m completely only with that, given the fact that Toji doesn’t drink.

He continues, “I hope you don’t mind Japanese food.”

“Absolutely not. That’s the only thing I miss about my ex, and one of the many things I miss about living in Japan. The amount of cuisines I had access to,” I tell him. “It’s so fresh and savory.”

While I ramble about my love for his culture’s food, I notice a tick in his jaw and his blank expression. Am I…

“Sorry, am I talking too much?”

“No,” he deadpans.

“Why the sudden change-”

“Your ex. This is the second time you brought him up. On top of that, you said you miss him.”

It completely slipped my mind that I have mentioned Nanami twice in my passing conversation with Toji.

Way to freaking blow it, Y/N. You haven’t had a relationship with anyone else in years and here you go bringing up your ex-fiancé while you’re on a date.

Has dating always been this nerve wrecking?

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Make me jealous?” He interjects. Those were not the words I was going to say.

“No? Why would I try to? And why would you be?”

“Why would I be jealous of another fucker experiencing you?” He asks sarcastically. “Miss L /N, I’m sure you can figure that out.”

He’s… jealous? There’s no way this should be turning me on right now, but of course my thighs subtly rubbing together couldn’t make it more evident.

“I’ll be more cautious.”

The tension and dead silence between us is thick, but not in a bad way. What I’ve come to learn about Toji in all our interactions is that he's an open book. Whatever’s on his mind, whether it’s something sexual or about his personal life, he tells me.

Those hues that remind me of the rainforest, jade and earth like, tells me. They hold power, darkening while leisurely ogling my body, slowly trailing up and down my curves until they meet with my eyes once more.

Whenever Toji looks at me like that, my heart pounds against my chest and sensation builds between my legs. He has no shame from looking at me with such animalistic hunger.

It… entices me.

Does he not know what this does to me?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask breathlessly.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to devour me.”

All Toji does is trace his bottom lip with his tongue and hums.

Gosh, I need this man so fucking badly.

“How was your day?” He chooses to ignore my question. A first from him, actually.

I tuck a curl behind my ear. “It was fine. Work was work.”

He sighs. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Something happened?”

He takes the apple cider out of the chiller and pours a glass for me before pouring one of his own. Our fingertips graze and a touch as simple as that has chills running down my spine.

“The owner sold the club to a new fucker and it seems like the gods are fucking with me.”

“How so? The new owner is a douche?” I ask, causing him to let out an incredulous chuckle.

“More than that. The-” He stops short of sentence, contemplating if he wants to tell me what’s on his mind.

“You don’t have to tell me, Toji. It’s okay,” I reassure him.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just—thinking about my life back in Japan puts me in a shitty mood.”

I place my hand on his thigh to give him a comforting squeeze. Again, we sat in silence for a bit until he decided to tell me about what happened at work.

My expression remains neutral while Toji tells me about someone from his family that disowned him is the one who purchased the club. Apparently a cousin he didn’t know even existed.

He doesn’t go too much into detail about his family history, but my stomach is filled with disgust hearing that his uncle is practically forcing the kids to get married and make babies. All for the sake of fucking keeping a generation alive.

Yet my heart breaks for Toji knowing that’s the type of environment he grew up in.

I can tell that definitely affected his fathering to Megumi.

“Oh… wow. That’s-”

“Sad?” He attempts to finish for me.

“No. Well, I mean, yeah. But I was going to say how shitty your family is. You didn’t deserve that.”

He chuckles, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth. “How do you know what I deserve?”

“I don’t, but it’s definitely not trauma from people that’s supposed to love and protect you.”

Toji stops chewing for a moment, like he’s trying to process what I said, but quickly gathered himself together.

“That’s how they treat the fuck up.”

I grab his chin to hold and force him to look at me. “Hey, what did I tell you about being kind to yourself?”

His eyes slightly widen while locking with mine as if he’s in disbelief from what I said. Or I don’t know, maybe because I grabbed his face.

It might’ve been bold for me to do that, especially knowing Toji is affected by my touch as well, but I refuse to hear him belittle himself like that.

I’ve had my fair share of pain over the years, but it isn’t nearly enough or comparable to what Toji had or has to endure.

I just hate seeing the people I care about talk down on themselves. And despite us barely knowing each other, Toji Fushiguro is definitely on my list.

His face softens. “You bossing me around now, Miss L /N?” The tenderness and earnestness in his voice makes my stomach flutter.

“If that’s what it takes to get through that big head of yours, then yeah,” I answer, playfully letting go of his chin to push his face away. I attempt to take a sip of my apple cider, but Toji latches onto my hand to hold against his lips.

“Okay,” is all he says. That simple response that spreads warmth beneath my cheeks and has me internally squealing like a little girl in a candy store.

Thirty minutes into our date and I already want to be lovey dovey with him by showering him with kisses.

I can only imagine how long I’ll have until I can no longer control myself.

The time goes by smoothly with Toji and I. After eating his delicious food and having comfort conversations, I’ve never felt more relaxed.

It’s been awhile since I felt this way, like the world doesn’t exist. That’s what happens when I’m around him. We just… talk. More so, me, and he does all the listening, occasionally putting his input or talking about himself.

I’ve learned a lot about Toji within these past few hours. His guilty pleasure in gambling, which I don’t mind because betting on horse races is pretty normal. Being able to witness Toji yelling like an obsessed fan is a sight worth seeing.

However, I think my favorite part of our conversations is seeing how his face lights up and softens when talking about his son.

Usually, he tells me what pains him when it comes to his relationship with Megumi, but this time, I’m gifted with the happy moments Toji remembers.

Like when he was born or even down to the first word he spoke in English. I wish Toji had my eyes so he could see how he looks whenever he talks about him.

Despite his current strained relationship with his son, I know Toji is trying his best to be a father to him. I can’t help but look at him with such affection.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The smile on his face makes me believe he’s mocking me when I asked the same question earlier.

“It’s a crime for me to look at you?”

“With those eyes? Yeah,” he answers, continuously massaging my thigh.

I giggle. “And what kind of eyes are mine?”

“Brown. Beautiful. Soft. Pretty enough to make a fucker weak in the knees.” He tells me this with no hesitation and it catches me off guard.

I’m lost for words.

“I… just enjoy hearing you talk, especially about Megumi. It feels humbling.”

He hums. “I think having a kid makes you feel that way. I truly was a fucking train wreck before I met his mother and had him. Enough motivation to be better. To do better.”

“Can I know more about her?”

By how his hand stops midway while rubbing my thigh, I know he knows who I mean by her.

Instant regret hits me because I feel like I overstepped a boundary. Toji doesn’t look at me, but there’s a smile on his face. I quickly spew out an apology, however, he reassures me that I’m okay.

“It’s not you, just… not now. Maybe another time,” he says, resuming his massages. “C’mon, Y/N. I know better than to talk about my late wife while I’m on a date. Cut me some slack.”

I place my palm against his cheek to rub his flesh with my thumb. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah, she did… But I think I have another person who’s starting to mean something to me, too.”

“Yeah?” I question, smiling. “Who?”

“My son’s reading teacher. She’s fucking hot and has a nice ass.” I playfully swat his chest, earning me a hearty chuckle from him. “Just being honest.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever?” I don’t know where it started, but suddenly Toji leaned forward, leaving but a breath away from kissing.

I look at him through lidded eyes, altering my attention between his irises and his lips. No drinking has been done, but I feel drunk off his energy.

How he looks at me. Talk to me. The way his hand goes up and down my thigh slowly, intimately, creeping closer to my center that I know is currently pooling wetness.

Toji Fushiguro knows the effect he has on me. He freaking made me come from just drying humping. Every night I visualize him between my legs, licking and sucking until I’m writhing above him. To fuck me so passionately and aggressively with his cock until I’m begging for more.

I want him to imprint my insides. I want to be desired and worshiped by this man. I can’t help but look deprived by fisting his sweater to pull him closer to mouth to kiss, only for him to rear back and taunt me.

He tsks. “Why are you so fucking needy? Hm?” His hand cuffs my face, digging his fingers into my cheeks to purse my lips. “Always whimpering. You know what that shit does to me?”

“Because I want you.”

“Where do you want me? Here?” I arch into him and whine from feeling his hand hike up my skirt to palm my pussy.

I nod with such eagerness.

“You call this string, panties? I can easily rip these off and eat that sweet fat pussy right now.”

“Can you?” I ask, sounding like I’m losing all senses. Toji answers me by pulling my thong to the side to thumb my clit.

It’s almost embarrassing how wet he finds me considering he hasn’t barely touched me. My grip on his sweater grows tighter, bound to leave wrinkles the more fervently he rubs circles around my clit.

He flicks faster, my soft moans and wetness being played with fills the space between us, being only audible for him to hear.

Toji drags his nose along my neck, inhaling my scent and leaving open mouthed kisses. Along the way, my fingers slip through his dark locks to tug him closer.

And to think Toji would continue to tease me without inserting his fingers inside of me, his fingers sinking inside of my pussy says otherwise.

“Ohh…” I breathed.

“Fuck. . . How long you been wet for me like this, princess?”

I clench around his fingers at the pet name.

He begins pumping in and out of me while leaving love marks across my flesh. His fingers… they’re so thick and the perfect length to deliver pleasure. They stretch me, and I feel desperation pricking my skin at wanting to feel his cock inside of me, too.

I latch onto Toji’s face to meet mine and force our lips together. I couldn’t take not kissing him because kissing him feels like everything has stopped around us. I know all I need is to taste him to know that I’ll be okay.

He chuckles into my mouth, which I’m guessing due to my neediness and boldness, but that soon turns into groans I happily devour.

“Toji,” I gasp, breaking our kiss for some air with nothing but a string of saliva connecting us.

“As much as I enjoy hearing you moan my name, stop talking.” It’s like déjà vu because I immediately think about the first night we kissed and I told him the same thing.

Toji is addictive. I can’t stop saying this. How he sucks on my tongue possessively and bites down on my bottom lip, damn near drawing blood, has me wanting to submit to him.

He’s the type of man that could tell me what to do not because I allow him, but for the reason he knows that he can.

I want him to have his way with me. I want him to keep thrusting his fingers in my pussy until I come and moan his name uncontrollably.

God, who knew fingering could feel this good.

“A little faster, Toji,” I muffle through our kiss.

“Trying to boss me around? How can I say no,”—his pace picks up and finger fuck me harder—“when you fucking sound like that?”

I instinctively raised my hips and spread to have his digits pump deeper inside of me. His thumb finds my clit once more and I shudder beneath him. My hands claws into the flesh of his scalp, making it clear I’m close to my orgasm.

We kiss for a bit longer before he starts showing attention to my face, peppering his lips softly across my cheeks. The gesture, it feels… unlike him.

Not that I expect Toji to only be rough with me, but for him to be this tender while finger fucking my pussy… I’m bound to fall in love with this man.

“You sound pretty. Moaning for me. Saying my name like that’s all you know in that little teacher brain of yours,” he whispers, kissing behind my ear. An airy chuckle escapes his mouth that furthers the libido that’s pumping through my veins. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You sure you could take me, baby girl?”

“Toji, yes. Just fuck me… Please.”

He shakes his head. “Not here, sweetheart. I want you spread out on the bed when I’m balls deep inside of you. I want to hear the bed creaking when you’re riding my cock, and see those pretty titties bouncing in my face.” The more he speaks to me in this timbre is only aiding my near release. “But don’t worry, Miss L/N. I’ll take care of you tonight with just my fingers. Got this fucking pussy soaking and squeezing the fuck out of me. Just keep sounding sexy like that for me. Okay?”

Fuck... I feel myself coming. He slows down his thrust and applies more pressure to my throbbing clit. I match his movements by circling my hips around his fingers.

Toji’s voice alone is enough to make me orgasm, and it hits me hard. The nerves of fire I had coiled in the pit of my stomach finally unleashes and has me moaning louder than usual, with a few breaths being stuck in my throat.

Coming this hard just from being fingered and talked to so passionately with such obscenity, I’m a crying mess. And in the midst of my release, I squirt. Something I’ve never done before.

He chuckles, “Good girl. Good fucking girl. You always messy like this?”

“Oh–Oh, God… Toji… I–I don’t know. Why does this feel so good?”

“I said I was going to take care of you. Right?” T0ji removes his fingers from my pussy, taking his time to collect enough of my arousal in his hand to bring to his face. He raises his hand in the air and separates his fingers, groaning at the sight of my wetness gleaming under the moonlight.

Toji brings his hand to his nose and deeply inhales my scent, pleasurably exhaling while sucking my juices off his fingers.

“You taste fucking good, sweets.”

Sweets. Hearing him call me that does even more to me than being called princess.

Now, I feel even more desperate for Toji, completely losing my senses and busying my hands trying to unbuckle his pants. I want him. I crave him. Am I needy? Yes, although I don’t remember ever being this way, but that’s what happens when you’re finger fucked by Toji Fushiguro.

“Easy girl,” he rasps, latching onto my wrists to halt my erratic movements. “As much as I enjoy watching you being so desperate for me, I don’t want you to feel obligated-”

I cut him off. “No, I just want your dick inside of me.”

“Fuck, you’re making it hard for me, Y/N.”

“You are. I’m making it easy for you,” I argue.

He clasps onto my chin to place the sweetest kiss on my lips. My body relaxes and I feel content with tasting myself on him. “Not like this… Okay?”

“Okay,” I answered, giving him a small smile.

“So… you’re a squirter? We’ll have to push you like that again.”

If it wasn’t for my dark brown complexion, I know my warmth would show. “Please don’t remind me.”

He throws his head back and lets out a laugh that has me joining him. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweets. It’s sexy.”

After being cleaned up by the travel size wipes I keep in my purse, Toji and I lay together and talk for hours under the midnight sky.

As I said before, Toji is a beautiful catalyst that I’m ready to get to know.

The familiarity I feel around him is compelling. And I’m aware that we agreed on something casual for now, but after tonight, I don’t think that would be possible for me.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #6 — nothing really pertaining to this chapter, but how are we feeling about the story so far? im honestly enjoying it. i do apologize for the long update. next chapter will be out in a few weeks and it'll be a timeskip, about a month or so. thank you for reading and i'll see you next time ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

#jjk x black reader #toji x black reader #toji x reader #anime x black!reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x black reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #anime x reader #anime smut #toji smut

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nanomooselet · 9 months ago

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Elendira the Crimsonnail (I)

I'll start with my thoughts on the Maximum version; maybe it will soften some people's feelings to know I'm fond of her. To be clear, if I am wrong about this and Orange are just backdooring in loli fan service I will extremely displeased, but I don't think that's what they're doing.

When I read Trigun Maximum I couldn't figure out what El's deal was, thematically. Like all of Knives's followers, she had something going on with bodily autonomy (I've also heard it that they're all marginalised in some way, but I don't see it? However, they do all have unusual relationships with bodies and agency over them); she's a transgender woman who impales people with nails. But we learn nothing about her past, save that she's been at Knives's side for even longer than Legato has. We learn more about the inner life of Midvalley the Hornfreak.

The Guns are in many ways an argument in favour of Knives's beliefs about humans, but compared to… well really the majority of the cast, Elendira is self-confident and refreshingly free of angst. She sees no reason to deprive herself of the finer things in life or to refrain from doing what amuses or excites her, especially if it's violent. She's committed to assisting Knives in his genocide, knowing he will not spare her, but she claims to hate the suicidal (such as Legato) and is dismissive of immature men (such as Legato). Knives is respectful of her (in a way he isn't of, say, Legato - to whom Knives is attached, but deeply in denial about). They're very nearly equals. If he falls, Elendira will be the one to bring an end to the world. (Presumably because if Knives hasn't survived, there's no way Legato has.)

(Okay, I'll stop dunking on Legato but the way he and Elendira interact is absolutely hilarious. They hate each other so dearly you can feel the hostility crackling off the page whenever they're both on it, but they also rely on each other without question. I would read a workplace sitcom about these people in a heartbeat.)

There are theories - she has some sort of tragedy in her past ("I don't like nice men. They die too soon," gets brought up in this context) or that her transition was not met with acceptance. I can't disprove either one, but neither do I see solid evidence to support them in particular, I suppose? Beyond planetary society's general horribleness, we're given no clear reason she's in the position she's in. El has decided it's none of our business and that's that. It's her prerogative, though I do feel uneasy if "she's a transwoman" is supposed to serve as the entirety of the explanation for her being a willing accomplice to genocide.

So I have my own theory, and it's that Elendira defines and masters herself. She is resolutely singular. In a story where so much of who we are is shaped by others - via names, purpose, scars, grief, longing, imitation, jealousy, rivalry - Elendira neither needs nor is needed by anyone. Legato was rescued and named by Knives, the first ever to treat him as though he's any other human, and even his powers need other people to fully express themselves; Elendira named herself and presumably sought out Knives for her own reasons. Whatever the tragic backstory reasons for that, we don't learn them, because it doesn't matter to her. I wonder if Knives sees something to aspire to in her total self-sufficiency, or even in her nihilism. Of all the characters, Elendira does most consistently have her shit together, while Knives is… well, he was a sensitive boy.

Regardless, if ending the world presents an amusing enough challenge, Elendira sees no compelling reason she shouldn't take the shot. There's nothing else on, none of these people mean anything to her, and she'll look damn good doing it.

To her credit, she does look incredible. Being well-dressed in the face of the apocalypse is a very specific niche, but El owns it as few others could.

She's pitted against Razlo and Livio (I'd say particularly Razlo) because their purpose has always been to be needed by someone else; Razlo joined the Eye of Michael because it was a place where we will be needed. Not to mention their selfhood is by definition a little unstable, whereas Elendira knows of self-doubt and uncertain identity by reputation, but has never met either one of them face-to-face.

And yet in the end she's defeated. Because, having perfect mastery, she's not learned to recover from the kind of ego-shattering loss she regularly doles out. Razlo and Livio, for obvious reasons, have that shit down to a science - Razlo exists to step in when Livio's at the end of his strength, and Livio learns to step in when Razlo's at his limit. Whereas perfection has no room for improvement. There's certainly prestige in being peerless in your field and unbeatable one-on-one, but who do you rely on for back-up?

Elendira neither needs nor is needed by anyone. So in the end, with Legato fully occupied, when she's pushed right to the limit of her strength -

- there's no one to step in.

@ultraviolet-cello

Part II

#trigun maximum #trigun meta #let's appreciate the juxtaposition in sweetheart vash who loves all humanity like family #and shoulders the burden of protecting us alone #versus knives and his multiple devoted followers whom he'd never admit to giving a shit about #as he plots to murder every human alive #elendira the crimsonnail

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dailyanarchistposts · 4 months ago

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Differences Between Anarchism and Authoritarian Leftism (Marxist-Leninist-Maoism)

A significant difference between anarchism and Marxist-Leninist-Maoism is hierarchy. MLMs depend on cadres (leadership) to make the ultimate decisions, which is why they often stick to a central message handed down from the top. Anarchism is horizontal, which means having a lot of intentional discussions around consensus and each person’s needs. MLM organizing tends to be more oriented towards building critical mass and numbers because they believe that the solution is to displace the current state with a “people’s state” — a point that anarchists fundamentally disagree with because we believe that states in any form simply replicate the existing hierarchies of violence and systems of oppression.

The tensions between anarchist and authoritarian leftist organizing also often come down to questions of capacity, scale, structure, and urgency.

It’s often the case that authoritarian leftist organizing (in its many variations) is willing to sidestep conversations on internal conflict and will readily engage in disposability politics for the sake of scaling up rapidly, at an unsustainable pace. Which is something I’m not down with — because I am definitely one of the people (among many who make up my community) who gets left behind over and over again due to chronic illness, precariousness, limited access to resources, etc. But it’s tougher to build a large group with anarchism because of decentralization — with the intent that the focus is on meaningful relationships and not burn out or exclusion.

What is a “movement” between billions of people who don’t know or have any deep investment in each other? Another frustrating part of focusing on mass movements is that the more that people push for critical mass, the less considerate they are of pace — and the less attention they pay to who they leave behind in the process of growing, growing, growing.

I believe that small and committed groups of people can do big things if they want to. I don’t think we need to change everyone’s mind. I think that change happens all the time, on the ground, in relationship, at a scale that people don’t/won’t take notice of because they are too busy looking elsewhere.

At the same time, we are still working on how to organize autonomously in ways that are resilient and lasting. It seems like anarchist organizing, while more forgiving and flexible, is also far more susceptible to disintegration when hard-line demand for consistency isn’t made. And yet autonomous spaces are the ones where I have felt the most whole, and where my needs and limitations have been taken seriously.

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kipsels · 1 year ago

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Sweet Torture

Diluc x Lumine

ft. Vampire Diluc

Diluc almost regrets his decision to seek her out the moment he spots her in the distance. Like a fallen star that had settled on the bank of Cider Lake, Lumine sits by the sandy shoreline, her knees tucked up to her chest.

Her pale blonde hair shines in the moonlight, and if she were to turn her head he knows her golden eyes would gleam just as brightly too.

The winds turn, carrying her decadent scent in his direction and setting his hunger anew. His fangs ache for flesh, to sate the thirst that has nearly driven him to madness since the day he first met her.

Just one look, that’s all he gives himself. One look to sooth his foolish heart.

He closes his eyes and wills himself to turn away, to save himself the sweet torture of her company for one night.

“Master Diluc?”

He nearly bites back a groan as her voice calls out to him, a siren’s song he cannot fight.

He turns back to her with a cordial smile, slow measured steps bridging the distance between them.

“Miss Lumine, you’re out late tonight.”

“The moon’s full tonight,” She points out, “It’s said that a full moon can summon a mystical lunar fish, so I figured I’d give it a go.”

He notices then the fishing pole she has anchored beside her, the line nearly invisible in the dark. Lumine pats the ground beside her, and Diluc finds himself obeying her request.

“You know those stories are merely folktales,” He chuckles as she rolls her eyes. “The fish you catch at night are surely the same as the ones you catch in the day.”

“Only you could say something so boring,” She huffs, her eyes watching the lure bop across the water’s surface.

“And what would you do with this special fish?” Diluc humours her for a moment, if only to memorise the sound of her voice for the long daylight hours that were to come.

“Cook it, of course.”

“A tragic end.”

“Tragic? I think you mean tasty.”

Diluc can barely recall the last time his meals had not consisted of draining the blood from a hapless beast, but the old memories of hearty meals dull in comparison to the sweet scent of the woman beside him.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Lumine raises a brow at him, though she does not comment. Silence settles between them, only broken by the gentle sound of water lapping against the shoreline, the rustle of the breeze catching in the reeds.

All the while, Diluc suffers.

Saliva pools in his mouth from her proximity alone, the pale expanse of her neck just within striking distance. Inviting him to taste, to devour–

“You must be a very busy man, Master Diluc,” Lumine muses lightly, her golden eyes twinkling with mischief.

He blinks, bats away the instincts clamouring for him to feed.

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

“I never seem to catch you during daylight hours. I bet you’re holed up in meetings all day, dealing with stuffy old men and their stuffy old opinions, am I right?”

“It’s… something like that.”

She grins in that moment, radiating joy. He wants to capture that joy, bottle it up and keep it with him for all eternity, but he knows that is not how things work.

Diluc knows that a life by his side would only sap her of her beauty, her joy.

He could not bear to be the reason she no longer shone like the stars in the night sky. It was only cruel for creatures of the night to covet those who dance in the sun.

The desire to taste her blood turns to ash on his tongue.

“Keep your secrets then,” She laughs, her shoulder butting up against his own, “Though you can’t hide from me forever. I’m quite the detective, you know.”

The fish do not bite, but that does not seem to deter her. Neither can Diluc find it in himself to pull himself away.

Lumine yawns, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.

“Tell me when I hook something?”

Diluc closes his eyes as she nestles her head onto his shoulder, the scent of her lifeblood calling to him. She sags into him, her weight heavy as sleep takes her.

The lure bobs in the distance, and Diluc can only pray for a fish to bite. To save him from this prison of his own making.

This sweet, sweet torture.

- Fin -

#drabble fic #dilumi #diluc ragnvindr #lumine #genshin impact #cross posted onto twitter

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hazelnut-u-out · 2 years ago

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episode review time....

(contains spoilers for "ricktional mortpoon's rickmas mortcation")

let me preface this by saying i love rick and i do not want to sound like a hater lol.

i'm not even gonna pretend to be enthralled by the prospect of breaking this episode down. it was good, even great in a lot of ways, but... it broke a part of me, i think.

i feel betrayed. i feel morty's heartbreak. i really do.

it was a decent exploration of rick attempting to heal while he's not ready yet. he's not ready to move on and get better if it's going to be hard work.

...and honestly? i'm angry with him for that.

i'm angry with rick for victim blaming morty, yet AGAIN. for acting entitled to morty's forgiveness. for lying and tricking that little boy into thinking someone real cared about him.

for dragging a 14yo into something this heavy. this destructive. this reckless. this unforgiving and all-consuming.

GOD i am so sick of this. i'm all for rick's healing, but why is it being put before morty's every time? i mean... i get that there's four more seasons to go. morty has plenty of time to be given justice, but... i feel so bad for him.

i think i'm giving it a 7.5/10 after a rewatch because it really was wonderfully and realistically written.

i don't want to come across as too harsh, because i definitely do sympathize with rick. i don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to break the audience. i think that's a wonderful tool of art. nor do i think protagonists have to be good. it's just a harsh reality that your beloved protagonist is destined to be the villain in the story, though, and i feel like that's what rick is fated to be for morty.

i attribute most of my negative feelings towards my morty bias and my emotional attachment to the last episode.

okay... general thoughts, as always:

-is it bad to say i prefer rick bot over real rick? because, uhhh... i do. he wove his way into my heart by the end of all of this. poor dude. he really loved his family. i kinda wished we could've kept him around.

why couldn't we?

give morty a decent grandpa challenge: go!

i think he's my new favorite rick aside from c-137. what a badass wholesome peepaw of a dude!!!

-morty loves his family so damn much, and it feels like none of them have really earned that from him. he wants his family to have a nice christmas, even if his is going to shit.

-morty crying when curtis yelled at him made me tear up.

"he's busy and i hate him!"

it's just the last little thing he needed to break down. he's a little kid who's having the worst christmas imaginable, and... no one cares about fixing that for him.

other than rick bot.

-i actually loved the moment where rick says he'll get "neurotypical cooties," and implies that neurotypicals aren't creative. casual autism rep lol.

-rick victim blaming morty once again... ugh... bro just immediately regressed.

all morty had to do was say he was "boring." rick just proved that he'd have pulled another "the vat of acid episode" if he hadn't made rick bot.

how many hurtful things do you think you've said to morty, rick? bc i can guarantee it's a million times more hurtful than anything you've ever heard come from morty's mouth. especially "boring."

tbh... i think that it might say something about his character that he didn't do that, and he chose to give morty a better grandpa instead, but also...

ouch.

i know it's a statement about how he needs to tie up his unfinished business before he can move on and really put in the work, but... morty must just feel like he's not worth the effort of apologizing.

the man that morty follwed down into that lab isn't the one who said "i'm sorry." he's not the one that said "i love you too." he's not the one who hugged morty.

the man who said those things is not the grandpa that morty chose all the way back in "solaricks."

morty is consistently willing to put the work into helping rick, but he's constantly shown that rick can't be bothered to put the effort into helping him.

-the fact that morty felt bad for yelling at rick? i just wanted to tell him that he has a right to be upset...

-notice how not one member of the family mentions morty's absence from the holiday family time? yikes...

poor little guy.

i think this is why that reveal bothered me so much... he thought someone real cared about him. he thought a real person cared about saying "i'm sorry. i love you too." to him.

but no.

-what's even more heartbreaking? he learned to care about rick bot. that was the grandpa he wanted, but he doesn't even get to choose that, anymore.

"i don't want another you!"

-bro rick just won't let up. the lightsaber bit? GOD, man. just let the kid have a moment.

-something is so comically wrong with rick's ability to create AI systems lmao. they're always so sassy and go against his orders. the garage? the car? dude... maybe rethink your stance on AI autonomy. you're giving it more freewill than you allow your grandson.

-i literally can't even be upset with morty for being angry with rick. i'm here for it. smoke his ass, lil junebug!

-poor rick bot trying to come clean to his family. that guilt sure did eat him alive :((

look at him with his girls... :(

i guess that explains his softer voice acting for last ep and this ep. he's just a completely different rick.

-it kept making me upset that rick demonized morty over and over again for trying to stick up for himself. it was really hard to watch him not even try to pretend to care about earning morty's trust, respect, and forgiveness.

he HONESTLY thinks he's entitled to it.

-MORTY!! YOU ADORABLE LITTLE BADASS!

-curtis is such an ass lmao. gay icon.

-noticed these gay lil soldiers. ship them!!

-I. LOVE. RICK. BOT.

go dude, go!! he's honestly so sweet... i'm going to genuinely, deeply mourn this character.

-haha, how cute is it that morty acts like a little adventure expert? "slowly closing door! slide!"

-poor rick bot... suicidal ass :(

-dude, morty just cannot catch a break, huh?

"i've always wanted to fight with a lightsaber, but not like this! you ruined it!"

every time i think this kid is gonna get a piece of his childhood back, it's like... nope!

-the joke about the robot with lightsabers for eyes was actually so funny.

-okay, okay... the slow motion scenes WERE hilarious. i must admit.

-it broke me when morty said he was done with forgiveness... especially to see him follow rick down to that lab just a few moments later...

will he ever stop hoping that people can be better? will he ever stop sacrificing himself to his own detriment?

one thing about morty? he's gonna try to do the right thing. the noble thing.

-ugh... poor morty... i hate the fact that this pushed him to trust rick again. i hate the fact that he had to lose rick bot.

and rick twisting the meaning of rick bot's words, too? i don't think rick bot meant for rick to offer to drag morty into this.

oh, well... i can just tell this dynamic in s7 is going to be harrowing. morty just wants to believe his grandpa can be good. i hope he can :(

-lmao why is rick essentially curtis's tech sugar daddy? slay i guess?

-this ending scene is heartbreaking. morty once again a slave to his grandpa's madness? so obviously terrified? morty's just a kid, and what an unfair choice to force him to make...

"it's going to take over your life, morty!"

"it's the most painful shit i've ever been through and i'm fucking bringing you into it, because you asked for it!"

did he ask for it...? crying and sobbing.

i am super excited for the new season, though! it seems like they're gonna be ballsy and make it hyper-serialized when in comparison to the rest of the show, which... hell yeah!!

i guess i'm both excited and anxious to see what they do to my boys, though. i really need them to heal and work together. i was really starting to hope that rick was starting to treat morty like a partner- or, at least, a kid who's feelings, wants, and needs matter just as much as his own.

just like morty to lay himself upon the altar so that rick may bathe in his blood- a fitting sacrifice. a noble end.

i'm about to custom make a tee with morty's face on it that just says: "SAVE THE BABY 2023"

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #ricktional mortpoon's rickmas mortcation #rick and morty spoilers

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whysojiminimnida · 2 years ago

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AND THEN JUNG HOSEOK SAID --

"Oh, Jimin left him at home." I DIED Y'ALL. SEVERAL TIMES. Also the entire photo section of this post will consist of pictures of my cat Yoongi and the shit he has gotten in the mail recently. Yoongi has a new toy named Jack. Make of that what you will. ANYWAY.

He's gonna burn it down, burn it all down. SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS -- I was in Florida and I had a little emergency hospital visit which was unplanned. There was also a Jimin's birthday and a whole ass Busan concert and a Live and a military enlistment announcement which: I can't talk about that. I CAN'T. So don't ask me. And I had an otherwise lovely time and got home to one Very Cranky Oppa, Kevin having been informed of my "Oh Shit Here We Go Again With This Bullshit" thing. Man was mad. Like, hovering mad. All up in my business and stuff. We love Kevin From Itaewon, okay, and we are also being very, very kind to him and to his boyfie X FOREVER. Not just because Park Jimin was in X's apartment but also for that reason. And there was a day recently when Kevin called to grouch at me. There were all the days, really. He's been on his oppa shit for a solid month. But this one day it was midday my time so ASS O'CLOCK in Seoul. Kev was staying at X's because Kevin's place is in Itaewon and Very Awful Things have been going on there. You know I told you Kev and X maintain two residences? Turns out that has been one small blessing in that whole ass nightmare over there. But at Kevin's house you don't often hear the tinkling of a GIGGLING PARK JIMIN IN THE NEXT ROOM. And he was not alone.

When Jimin said my name I thought he said "Hello Jewelry" and I was about to offer him my grandmother's wedding set and my mom's tennis bracelet. But instead I said "Hi Jimin-ssi saranghaeyo" and "Hi Hobi-nim saranghae!" and they were very kind. And then I was asked if my dream came true (X was, in his defense, drunk, did I mention?) and I said, because I am an entire idiot,

"No." "No?!" "Next time bring Jungkook-ssi", says still reasonably formal but definitely insane person holding my phone. (It was me, I'm the insane person). LAUGHTER. UPROARIOUS, UNBRIDLED AMUSEMENT. There was a thump, which Kev said "Oh Jimin fell" and some choking and I swear before God, JIMIN SNORTGIGGLED AT ME and Hobi let out the horsiest, cutest guffaw, like, they may have all been tipsy is all I'm saying. Kevin was appalled, probably. I wasn't paying attention to him. "Oh, Jimin left him at home" said one Jung Hoseok. IN ENGLISH. I mean, I didn't know Hobi was down with past tense and grammar and shit but HE SAID ITJUST LIKE THAT. AND LAUGHED. And then Park Jimin giggled. HE GIGGLED HE SOUNDS LIKE AN ANGEL I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU GUYS OMG

And then Kevin said "say goodbye" and instead I said "daedanhi kamsahamnida" which is "thank you so so so much" but I said that too and Jimin said "very nice to meet your jewelry" and Kevin was like "girl I'mma call you back when you can breathe without crying" and ...that was it. That was all she wrote. It ain't all I'm gonna write but the conversation was over. And about twenty minutes later after I resurrected again I was like WAIT.

WHAT.

Because, like, I don't know what all X has told Hobi and or Jimin about me. But I feel pretty confident that HOBI MADE A JIKOOK REFERENCE and there are two possible explanations: 1. They were just drunk as fuck and messing with a known ARMY; OR

2. That man was not thinking and told the truth. Jimin left Koo at home to go out with Hobi. At HOME. At ostensibly HIS HOME. Where Jungkook may also reside, at least occasionally. One of those things is true. Unless you think I'm yanking your chain. Which: I have no proof I'm not, at least no proof I'm willing to share. What I will share is that Yoongi the cat (or possibly yours truly) has been receiving regular deliveries from Hybe ever since. Nothing major and mostly the stuff is readily available on Weverse. No notes in it or anything, just.... stuff.

Stuff I have not ordered or paid for and there are no packing slips or invoices to tell me who did. It doesn't show up in my Weverse app. It just.... shows up.

I was GONNA get the photobook I swear to God I had intended to order it but it just.... arrived. I pulled Taehyung.

SOPE IS REAL THIS IS MY PHOTO PROOF LOOK AT YOONGI KISSING J-HOPE Mostly it's been Hoseok-related. Kev and X disavow all knowledge. If one of you did it, please do let me know. But I like to think it's no coincidence that Yoongi is now the proud owner of an Arson candle and a Jack In the Box.

I mean. It's cute stuff and I super wanted all of it but let's be real, here. If you'd rather believe this never happened and I just made it up out of my head, I would not even blame you. No dates, no sources, no pics, no receipts, nothing that could not have been ruthlessly fabricated and/or preordered by me and expeditiously shipped. Right? RIGHT.

But if you wanna squeal with me I won't get mad at you, either :) And yes, I do think the Jeon-Parks are jeonparking. I also think Jimin had his wisdom teeth out but who the hell knows.

#kevin from itaewon #kev's boyfie x #kfi #kfi is its own thing now #jimin #there's always a hobi #someone is sending me cool stuff tho #he said what #must be 2022 in the jeon park house #just me on my bullshit again

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toothfa-1-ry · 2 years ago

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THEY'RE THE PERSON OF MY DREAMS, BUT WAS I EVER EVEN A PART OF THEIRS? - Na Jaemin

Jaemin loved you. He was utterly inlove with you, heads over heels inlove with you. He was willing to live for you, to die for you, he was willing to do anything you wanted him to do. So why couldn't you even spare him a small place in your heart? Even when his entire heart only consist of you?

GENRE: Angst, toxic relationship

PAIRING: Non Idol Na Jaemin x toxic reader (gender not specified)

FEAT: Jaemin's bestfriend Jeno

WARNING: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, toxic reader, reader is a major asshole to Jaemin, suggestive themes, swear words

A/N: By NO MEANS am I glorifying or romanticising toxic relationships at all by this fic, rather I'm trying to show how much a toxic relationship can affect someone. If you find yourself in a toxic relationship or know someone who is in a toxic relationship please don't hesitate to get some help and talk to someone. Your worth more than those assholes who don't deserve you, your worth more that half assed apolagies.

Jaemin stares at your lips,

He's been staring at your lips for some while as his own fingers lightly glide over his own lips unaware that your silently observing him.

He wonders how it would feel, your lips against his. Those soft beautiful lips he dreamt of everynight he laid in his bed, he wonders if you ever dream of his own lips like he does to yours.

It's not like you guys haven't kissed before, because you guys have kissed eachother many times before. Sometimes in the alley behind the club you always force him to go with you, or sometimes in the middle of the night in his room whenever your feeling a type of way.

But Jaemin wants to kiss you properly, not those half drunk half sober makeouts you have with him. Not those kisses which only leave him feeling empty and broken

Actually, to be really honest,

All Jaemin really wanted was for your to actually kiss him. To kiss him like you liked him, to kiss him the way he always kissed you. He wanted you to kiss him and also feel the butterflies he felt, for your heart to also race as you kiss him. For you to feel all the things he feels whenever the both of you kiss.

At a certain point, Jaemin wonders what he is to you. The both of you never put a label to your relationship. All Jaemin knew was one day you would start ignore him. Maybe you'll ignore him for days, maybe for weeks and then suddenly your there on top of him, kissing him like there's no tomorrow as the both of you lay on his bed.

He liked you too much to stop you, fuck he was inlove with you. But were you inlove with him? Did you even like him? Did you even think of Jaemin the slightest bit of the the way Jaemin thought of you? Or did Jaemin only come to your mind when you felt the need of someone's company?

"what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jaemin's thoughts are interrupted by your voice, your finally looking at him instead of your glowing mobile screen

"no- no it's nothing" Jaemin stammered. He always felt nervous around you, maybe even a little scared. Afraid that one small mistake, and you'll get angry. One wrong move and you'll turn cold and distant.

"huh? What's up with you? You wanna makeout or something?" You smirk, your fingers still busy on your phone

"what- I. No I mean- I don't know"

"what's that suppose to mean?"

Shit shit shit

"do you not like hanging out with me? Is that what your tryna say here Na?" You ask him, your eyebrows knit together

Jaemin feels like running away, he feels like begging for your forgiveness but he's frozen. The weird feeling he always had whenever he was around you only growing even more

"is that what your saying? I'm so boring that you can't even think of something to talk with me about?"

Jaemin's mouth runs dry as the words come out of your tongue. He blinks once, twice, thrice unable to say anything, to do anything. All he wants is for you to not be angry at him, to not scold him. All he wants is for you to love him or atleast pretend to even if it's just for a second or two

"i- that's not what I meant.. I-" Jaemin's words are cut short by your scoff, he watches as you roll your eyes in annoyance

"i- i- i- what Jaemin? Spit it out. Your being so annoying these days. Honestly I'm getting tired of you"

All the words in Jaemin's head vanishes, he feels the pool of water forming in his eyes, the lump in his throat as he struggles to think of something to say. He always ends up feeling this way with you and he hates it. He hates it so much. But what can he do? When your the one he loves so much? The one his heart aches for, the one his heart yearns for

You seem to notice Jaemin's teary eyes and the slight shaking in his body. Jaemin hears you sigh.

"Jaemin-ah seriously? Your getting upset over this? Agh this is so irritating do you understand?" Jaemin can hear that your getting even more annoyed but he can't do anything, he's afraid to do anything

"y/n I'm sorry- I'm so sorry" the words come out as a sob "I like being with you, I just- fuck I like you so much. That's all" Jaemin chokes out as he fumbles on his words, his head looking down afraid to make eye contact with you, afraid of your reaction

He's ready to hear you scold him more, maybe even threaten to leave him. Hes ready for you to go away and leave him alone for a few weeks before you come back as if nothing happens. He already hears you getting up from his bed, he doesn't want you to leave, he doesn't want to be left alone.

Jaemin probably knows that this isn't the best time to say it, he's unsure how you'd react to it, if you'd get even more angry at him but right now he's willing to say anything for you to stay

"it's just that- I love you"

There, he said it. Jaemin said the L word, he said the L word to you. A memory of him telling his bestfriend Jeno that he loved you comes to his mind. The way Jeno reacted, the way they disapproved, the way they tried to tell him that he didn't love you but he couldn't care any less, not when looked at him like that

"you- you love me?" You ask, your hand on the handle of Jaemin's door and the other hand holding your phone

"I do- I love you. I love you so much y/n"

You look at Jaemin in a unexplainable way. Your face a mixture of shock and another emotion he couldn't exactly pin point

"Na Jaemin what the hell are you saying? what the hell do you think your sayin-"

"please y/n. Please just say that you love me back. Say tht you atleast like me back y/n" Jaemin pleads, he hears the tone of his voice and for a split second he couldn't help but wonder how Jeno would react to hearing him like this

"just say it, that you like me. Even if it's only a little bit, that's all I need. Say that I have a place in your heart. Even if its only a small place I don't care-" Jaemin's eyes looked at yours "just say that you care for me"

You don't say anything for a moment and neither does he. The both of you just stay there unmoving. Jaemin remains where he is, holding his breath even, afraid that one small movement will drive you further away from him

"Jaemin-"

"y/n? I really-"

"Jaemin you fucking crazy- your fucking insane. You can't be serious right now"

Jaemin watches you, his eyes widened, mind racing, heart beating ever so fast. He watches as your face contorts into anger and disgust as you look at him in complete dislike and discontempt as if he carried a deadly disease you didn't want to catch.

"don't fucking play stupid games with me Na. I dont have time for you or the bullshit your playing with me right now- I'm leaving, for good- don't fucking call me you stupid fuck" you slam the door behind you and quickly walk out of his apartment leaving Jaemin alll alone

You leave a broken Jaemin behind, a crumbling Jaemin whose entire room began to fill up with his sobs as he began to wonder if you ever even thought of the idea of liking him, probably not.

He hates himself for thinking that you could like him, for thinking that there was something in between the both of you that the both of you mutually shared.

"you stupid fuck Na Jaemin" he tells himself as he cries himself to sleep, the bed feeling as cold as it ever did, even when you slept in it with him.

It's going to be a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few months later when Jaemin would receive a message from you again. He'd completely ignore everything that happened before, all the things you said before and go out to meet you. Craving your touch even more, your affection even more

By this point he knows something is wrong and whatever he has with you isn't healthy, it isn't even safe but he can't stop himself, especially not when you call him in the middle of the night begging him to talk to you. Not when you whisper those sweet words in his ear which he knows you don't mean.

It would take a year or two, maybe even 4 years, maybe even 6 but one day Jaemin would let you go, actually let you go.

And one day Jaemin would find the love he has been giving others, he'll find the same love he always gave you. One day someone will love him like how he loved you.

But this is the future we're talking about, not the present.

For now, Jaemin is going to lie down next to you as you fill his head with pretty lies, he's going to hold you in his arms as you kiss his face with empty kisses, as you break his heart. For now Jaemin is going to continue wishing that you'll learn to love him, that maybe one day you'll love him. That maybe you do love him, you just don't know it yet

For now, he's going to let you continue breaking his heart again and again until there are no pieces left to give you. Until the cracks fill his heart up that there's no space left for you in it.

For now he's going to pretend he has a place in your heart, even when he was never even there in the first place

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metamorphosisff · 1 year ago

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|Chapter 11| Where There Is Thunder

Staring at the phone does not make it ring.

This I know but I can’t help but will my phone to sound with an incoming call from Xavier. That night his sister called to reveal that their dad had suffered from a heart attack. He had collapsed while getting ready for bed. Ever since, Xavier had been back and forth between both jobs, the hospital, and his parents house. It’s been a week since I’ve last physically seen him and I wished I could pull him into a hug. The few times we have managed to talk on the phone showed me there was a lot he wasn’t saying. He was understandably stressed out, running on fumes, but he did not know how to put himself first. He was more concerned with being strong for his mother and sister. That’s why I resolved to be strong for him.

Tearing my eyes away from my phone, I attempt to get back in the mindset needed for job hunting. The process was so draining and it honestly made me feel like a failure more often than not. So far I’ve been to three interviews but I have not heard back from anyone yet. Until I did, I was still filling out applications in hopes that something would stick. Having a schedule that consists of both day and night shifts left me always scrambling to find time for myself outside of sleeping. I had to use this time as productively as possible. Right as I was updating the filters on Linkedin my phone began to ring.

Glancing at the screen I let a small smile grace my lips. It wasn’t who I was expecting but I was happy to talk nonetheless. “Hey, Jazz.”

“Birdie!” Jazz hollered in greeting. “How are you darling?”

“I’m well,” I answered honestly. Outside of the job situation, I did not have a lot to complain about. For the first time in a long time, things felt like they were looking up for me. I was leaning into that and seeing where it took me. “I think I’m happy but it’s such a foreign concept to me that I’m not quite sure.”

Jazz laughed as she said, “Then that definitely means you're happy. When it feels like the other shoe is supposed to drop? That is doubt trying to rain on your parade but we’re not having none of that.”

“No we aren’t,” I readily agreed.

“And how is Mr. Clipboard?” Jazz asked.

“He’s…going through a bit of a tough time right now. His dad had a heart attack earlier this week so he’s been dealing with that,” I replied.

On top of making sure his grandparents were doing okay in the interim. He made sure a few of his older cousins stopped by even if they weren’t willing to spend the night like he did. Something was better than nothing though and this way gave Xavier some peace of mind though it wasn’t the most effective method. I couldn’t explain all of that to Jazz though because the intricacies of his family dynamic wasn’t my story to tell.

“Damn, I hate to hear it. I hope his father is alright and him too. Medical emergencies can wear you thin,” Jazz says, echoing my earlier thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m keeping an eye on him. How are you doing though? How’s the job?” I questioned.

“These ladies are something else I’ll tell you that but I’m already known as ‘The Regulator’ because I don’t play that. I run a tight ship in that front office,” Jazz said, in a tone that let me know she meant business.

“I could not imagine it any other way,” I chuckled.

“Neither can I,” Jazz cracked. “They keep me on my toes though. It’s nice, feeling like I have a purpose again.”

“I’m happy to hear that Jazz, I mean it. Having a purpose feels elusive to me some days. Hearing you say that renews my hope,” I said.

“Well amen to that. I knew I had to reach out to you. Felt it in my bones,” Jazz said.

Though we kept in touch daily through texts it had been awhile since we heard one another voices. It made all of the difference. Jazz was one of those genuine spirits you only came across once in a lifetime. I am grateful she has come into my life the way she has, making herself comfortable only in a way she could that makes me comfortable too.

“I need to be better about calling too. It’s a bit challenging when I'm sleeping when everyone is working and working when everyone is sleeping but it’s doable,” I said, knowing from experience. Until recently, Xavier and I spoke at length daily, not being able to go a day without hearing one anothers voices. Even now he went out of his way to make sure to speak to me, never letting one day go by without at least a text conversation between us.

“What’s important is that you think of me. That matters to me the most. Just keep me in your heart Birdie and it will all be fine,” Jazz hums.

“I will,” I promise.

“Good, now let’s talk about what you’re going to wear to my ball next month,” Jazz said, switching to the next subject.

“Your what?”

“My ball. Next month. Me and my house will be walking, and as one of my honorary daughters your attendance is mandatory not optional. Yes, you can bring a friend, now let’s focus. Outfits. What is that closet looking like?”

For the next hour Jazz and I switch to Facetime so that she can review the handful of club attire I own. After deciding that none of it will do, she promises to mail me something once I get my size. Her only sole request is that for the night of the ball I take my braids out so my hair can be out, wild and free. Being that she is dressing me for free, I quickly agree. With that squared away she heads back to work and I head back to the living room with a renewed drive to finish job hunting.

Just got home baby.

I think you’re sleeping but I wanted to let you know I’m in.

Actually, I’m just leaving work. I got called in to cover.

Come over. My place is closer.

Okay.

I have been waiting to lay my eyes on him for the past week but I haven’t wanted to seem pushy. Xavier was already being tugged in several directions, needed by so many people that I did not want to add on. All I really wanted was to be there for him how he was always there for me. An ache resided in my chest when he was near– an acuteness of his presence really– and it was even more profound when he was away. I don’t know when Xavier had become this important to me but I didn’t have time to analyze it. Something in me wouldn’t settle until I was able to look into his eyes without a screen between us. It only took me twenty minutes to get into his neighborhood from the train. I stopped at the bodega down the block from his building and got us both breakfast, before making my way over. Texting him when I was in the lobby, I wasn’t surprised to see him waiting by his door when I stepped off of the elevator.

My steps quickened on their own at the sight of him and before I knew it, I was launching myself into his arms. He caught me effortlessly, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly as he buried his face in my neck, and inhaling deeply before placing a small kiss on the hollow of my collarbone. We stayed like that for a few moments. It allowed me to feel the tension slowly leaving his body as his shoulders dropped in my embrace. As if he had been waiting for this moment just like I had been. After a beat, he walks us into his apartment backwards and locks the door.

“Hi,” he says with a kiss to my lips once we finally pull apart.

“Hi,” I repeat.

“There’s a towel and some clothes for you in the bathroom,” he says, while taking the bags from my hands.

“Okay, I’m going to wash up, and you go eat. You look like you’ve lost weight,” I said with a small frown as I took in the hollowness of his cheeks.

“Definitely not as much as I need to,” he replies, which causes my frown to deepen. “Go shower and then I’ll fill you in.”

I sigh but nod my head in agreement. While he heads to the kitchen, I walk down the narrow hallway, and enter the door on the left. I strip out my clothes before folding them up and putting them on top of the hamper. Turning the water on, I let it heat up, as I use some of his Cetaphil to wash my face. Once that’s done, I pluck my purple toothbrush from the holder, and brush my teeth. With that taken care of, I finally step into the shower, and smile at the sight of the same bottle of Dove body wash that I use at home. Xavier was always thinking of me down to the most minute detail. Knowing he was probably waiting on me to eat, I did not linger, and quickly scrubbed myself from head to toe. Then I dressed in one of his Batman t-shirts, a pair of basketball shorts I had to roll over so they wouldn’t fall to the floor, and some teal fuzzy socks that had cats on them which made me snort. I had told him one day I would own a cat because I found them so amusing.

Padding out, I headed to the living room where music was playing lowly from the record player. I couldn’t place the song but it was alt-rock in nature and soothing in tone. Like I thought, Xavier had our breakfast plated alongside the bottles of juice I picked up. Sitting down by his side, I kissed his cheek while saying, “Thought I told you to eat.”

“I am, see?” he asks, picking up half of his bagel and taking a dramatic bite out of it.

I playfully rolled my eyes as I picked up a half of my bagel as well. We ate in a comfortable silence, both of us needing a bit of time to decompress before trying to fill each other in. Like always, we ended up on the floor, head to head once we were done. Our hands were linked in the middle and as a group I learned to be Hall n Oates crooned about Sara’s smile.

“How is he?” I asked, running my thumb on the inside of his palm.

“Besides being a little tired, he’s good. Doctor’s want him to change his diet and exercise more to help reduce stress, even encouraging him to pick up a hobby. Jury is still out on that though. He was being all pissy about needing to take the rest of the month off from work,” Xavier said.

“He has to know taking it easy is what is best,” I said.

“If he didn’t my mom made sure of it,” he snickered. “She fried his ass when he started giving the doctor an attitude.”

“Good, sometimes men are too stubborn for their own good,” I said, with a pointed stare.

“Aye I’m…not as bad as my father,” he said, which was true but didn’t negate the fact that he could also dig his heels in when he felt warranted. “He never speaks about what’s bothering him, about what’s happening with his father, his life, nothing. Just keeps it inside.”

“You think the heart attack was a manifestation of the stress he ignores,” I said.

“The doctor said as much. If we don’t listen to our bodies, then they force us to listen. I just hope he does,” he sighs.

“How are things between you two? I know what he said to you before this went down really hurt,” I said.

“We are ignoring our fight as usual and this time my mom asked me not to bring it up due to everything else that’s going on. Said that what matters is that we have each other at the end of the day,” he said.

“That’s not a fair thing to ask,” I said.

“It’s not,” he agreed.

“Also having each other, family or not, is not enough. Not for what he said and how he acted. You do so much for your family, the least he can do is acknowledge it. Acknowledge you,” I said.

I watched as Xavier took a shaky breath, blinking a few times while his stare remained upwards at the ceiling. His hand clutched mine tighter and I gave him the moment to gather his thoughts and shift through his feelings. Biting down on my bottom lip, I swallowed the rest of my rant. My pointing out the obvious probably wasn’t helpful but I was angry for him.

“There’s just something between us…this wall…that doesn’t allow us to see each other how we should. Neither of us knows how to move around it, let alone tear it down,” he sighed, rubbing his free hand over his face which is something he did when in deep thought.

“And it’s always been like this. He’s just so fucking rigid, always composed, and if it’s not in some rulebook completely clueless.”

The frustration in his voice had been brewing for years, potentially decades, and I hated that I could relate to it in some way. In the earlier part of our friendship, I found myself envious of his family because they are so close knit but I’m realizing even that comes with its own set of problems. It’s own set of expectations and disappointments. Family was destined to be something that either made or break you. I had no idea where either of us stood on the spectrum because it seemed as if we were constantly in limbo.

“Have you ever fully told him how you felt about y’alls relationship? The situation with your Granddad aside, it seems like y’all can only be close if you ignore everything else, and that’s not sustainable,” I said.

“Funny, my therapist asked me a similar question a few weeks ago but I never got the chance to have that conversation with him. Life kept getting in the way. He could have died and those would have been the last words he ever said to me. That I’m basically a fucking disappointment like nothing I’ve done to change my life matters,” he said, jaw clenching.

“It does though, regardless or not if he sees it, it matters a lot,” I said, squeezing his hand. I knew what it felt like to have your accomplishments go unnoticed. It was a point of contention between Lonso and I. “You have to know that and believe it before anyone else does.”

“I know. This shit with my grandfather makes me feel like a failure though and it’s crazy because there are other adults involved as well. I don’t know man,” he breathed out, shaking his head. “We have to talk but with this heart attack shit I have no idea when that will be.”

“It needs to be as soon as possible. Babe,” I said softly, earning his direct eye contact. It was the first time the term of endearment fell from my lips and the shine in his eyes guaranteed it wouldn’t be the last. “There is never going to be this magically perfect moment to have this conversation. There will never be a good time to let him know the ways in which he failed you as a dad. You have the opportunity to tell him each day you both draw breath. Don’t take that for granted.”

There were so many things I wished I could say to my parents. So many things I needed to say but I didn’t know if they were alive or dead. No one I knew had seen them in some months, they purposely stayed out of my reach. I might never get the chance to speak to my parents again but Xavier could. Nudging closer, I placed my head on his chest, and he turned to place a kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll do it this week,” he said with resolve.

“And I’ll be here, whichever way it goes.”

His eyes met mine once more, showing both relief and gratitude in his gaze. Tipping my chin upwards with his free hand, he pressed his lips to mine. I placed my hand over his chest and felt his heart beating rapidly. He was the most unsure of himself he had ever been in my presence and I found his vulnerability to be beautiful. It wasn’t something I took for granted knowing how hard it could be. Xavier showed me with every conversation that it could also be rewarding. I rubbed his chest reassuringly as he fed himself on my kisses. He needed my energy and I poured it into him willingly.

His fingers found themselves in my braids the same time my leg wrapped around his waist. Shifting his lower body, he made it so that I was now on top of him as my braids gave us our own privacy curtain. His body was solid underneath mine, filled with hard planes and ridges reflective of the strict gym schedule he usually kept.

I sighed with bliss into our kiss as his lips pulled at mine before encompassing my bottom one in a nibble. My hands rested on the sides of his face, fingers softly brushing over the scruffiness of the beard that was growing in. Wrapping a hand around my hair, he gave it a soft pull that separated our lips so that he could place open mouth kisses on the column of my throat. His other hand had slipped underneath the t-shirt. His fingers began to lazily trail across my rib cage, occasionally brushing against the underside of my breast but going no further than light teases. Never had I been touched with such tenderness or purpose. His tongue flicked my collarbone and my hips bucked in response causing him to groan against my skin. The vibrations of the sound sent a quiver down my spine.

“I don’t want to rush this baby,” he says, kissing his way back up to my lips that are pouting at his words. He chuckles at the sight of it before flicking his tongue against them, drawing my eyes open. “But would it be okay to play a bit?”

“Play?” I repeated, stealing a kiss from him. He captured one back, leaving me panting when I said, “I think I like the sound of that.”

Biting down on my jaw, he groaned in agreement. “Me too. Let’s go.”

I nodded eagerly, earning one of his full smiles, something I didn’t realize I needed to see until I was able to witness it once more. With two moves, he has us upright and stalking to his bedroom, leaving Hall & Oates and family drama behind.

#metamorphasisff #slow burn romance #Black Fiction #black romance #zendaya x mjb

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ghosttotheparty · 2 years ago

Text

somewhere god can't see

also on AO3 part three of hideout

“I don’t know, I mean— I just feel like they’re not even listening to me, you know? I tried telling them everything that I’m working on, and that I’m, like, busy with, and they just laughed. I mean— Paul fucking made fun of me for havingresponsibilities, and I don’t— I don’t know what to do, and I am… ranting to you again. Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve’s voice says, soft and crackly over the phone. “I like listening to you.”

“But…” Eddie sighs, leaning against the wall. “I feel like I’ve just been bitching to you lately.”

“You’ve got a lot going on, Eddie, I don’t mind. I mean—“ His voice becomes strained like he’s sitting up, adjusting. “You’ve got school, and Morgan’s, and dealing, and D&D, and Corroded. And last week you mentioned that you feel like you don’t see Wayne enough anymore with everything going on, so I know that’s bothering you too.”

Eddie’s heart swells. He doesn’t even remember telling him that.

“Do the guys in Corroded even have jobs?” Steve asks sassily.

“No?”

“Right, okay, they can all suck a dick,” Steve dryly, and Eddie laughs. “They can’t make fun of you for doing stuff when they’re not doing anything themselves.”

“I love when you’re a bitch.”

“It’s my natural state. Are you looking for solutions or do you just wanna vent?”

“I guess solutions would be nice.”

“Tell the guys from Corroded to fuck off,” Steve says bluntly, and Eddie laughs again, squeezing his eyes shut. “Or, I guess, see if they’re willing to play a few gigs without you so you can focus on your priorities. Not that— I mean, Corroded is a priority, but—”

“Graduating is a priority priority,” Eddie interrupts his unnecessary corrections. “I’m graduating this year, Stevie, I swear to God.”

“Yeah, you are.”

He can hear Steve’s smile in his voice.

“How’s homework going?”

“I’m definitely doing it,” Eddie says half-heartedly. “Mr Anderson said he’s proud of me for trying, which. I mean. Felt kinda backhanded, but he’s actually nice.”

“I remember him, he was cool.”

“I just…” Eddie huffs. “Steve, how the fuck do you memorise shit? I got a quiz in biology next week, and I can’t remember anything for thelifeof me.”

“Uhm.” Steve sighs. Eddie closes his eyes. “I don’t know, I have a shit memory. Probably ‘cuz of all the head injuries, but…”

Eddie shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

It’s true, that Steve has an awful memory. He knows it. Steve is always forgetting things at the trailer, in Eddie’s van, and he was late to pick the kids up consistently enough that they started calling up Nancy Wheeler, and now Steve has post-it notes all over his house.

Work - 10:30 Monday Max to arcade - 2:30 Friday Lucas from basketball - 5:00 Wednesday

Etc.

It’s endearing, but worrying.

“Nancy always made flash cards for her classes, have you tried that?”

“I’ve triedeverything, Stevie. Some girls from class suggested a bunch of stuff that they do, but nothing works.”

“Well…”

Steve sighs.

Eddie sighs.

“I’m hopeless.”

“You’re nothopeless, Eddie, just find something that works foryou. Not everything that works for other people will work for you.”

“Like what?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “I don’t…”

“What about…” Steve pauses, and Eddie waits. “What about D&D?”

“…What about it?”

“I mean. You memorise all the characters, and their stats or whatever, and every little detail about the world and everything, so I mean, I know youcanmemorise stuff. You just— Can you just… somehow treat biology like D&D? Make it a game or something?”

Eddie blinks, looking across the room blankly.

“You still there?”

“Steve, you’re a fucking genius.”

Steve laughs loudly.

“Don’t hear that often.”

“I gotta go,” Eddie says quickly. “I’m gonna— I’m gonna figure something out, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve says lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he says before loudly blowing a kiss.

He runs to his room to find his stupid fucking flashcards after hanging up.

Thursday afternoon, he speeds to Family Video (definitely passing the speed limit, but luckily he doesn’t pass any cops). Robin is at the front, sorting through returned tapes. She looks up, taking a breath to say her regular, bright, “Welcome to Family Video,” but when her eyes land on him, she says, “Oh, hey,” instead.

“Steve?” Eddie asks quickly. She grins.

“Back room. He’s got a little headache.”

“Okay, good to know, thanks, Buckley.”

Steve is sitting at a table in the back, his head lowered to block out light, a water bottle in his hand. Eddie quietly shuts the door behind himself.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Steve lifts his head, eyes squinting, but his face relaxes when he sees Eddie crossing the room.

“Hey,” he says lightly. “Thought you had work today.”

“I do, I just…” Eddie pauses, smiling at him. “Needed to see you.”

“Everything okay?”

“Mhmm, gotta tell you something.” He sits in the chair next to Steve, leaning close. “But first.” He kisses him softly, holding his chin, and he can feel Steve’s shoulders fall as he relaxes, and Steve reaches up to hold his face.

He sighs when they part, his eyes fluttering open to look at Eddie.

“Needed that,” he says softly. Eddie giggles, kissing him again before he kisses his forehead. “What do you have to tell me?”

Eddie grins and lets go of him, twisting around to reach into his backpack and pull out the packet he placed carefully at the very front. He hands it out to Steve, who takes it sceptically, raising an eyebrows at Eddie. Eddie turns in his chair to face him, watching his pretty eyes look at the front page, watching him find the75%at the top next to his name.

Steve looks up at him with wide eyes, and Eddie tucks his hands into his lap, grinning and scrunching his nose.

“What?” Steve says loudly, and Eddie starts to laugh, beaming. “Eddie!”

Steve reaches out and grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him in and kissing him so hard it almost hurts, but Eddie doesn’t care because he’s still laughing and glowing with pride. And because Steve is kissing him like they’re alone in his bedroom, sliding his tongue along Eddie’s, licking into his mouth, biting at his lip. When he finally pulls away, Eddie is breathless, flustered and pink-cheeked.

“Woah.”

“‘M so proud of you,” Steve mumbles, kissing him again, still gripping his shirt, and Eddie feels lightheaded.

“Is that what I’m gonna get every time I pass something?” he asks when Steve releases him. Steve looks back at the packet, grinning.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes.

“How’d you do it?” Steve asks, flipping through the packet, looking at Eddie’s messy handwriting.

“What you said,” Eddie says, moving closer. “I made it a game.”

Steve looks up at him with a smile, his eyes sparkling.

“Ms Booker asked to see me after class,” Eddie says, grinning. “She thought I cheated.”

“You’re happy about that?”

“Yeah, because Ididn’t,” Eddie says adamantly, leaning forward with emphasis. He knows his eyes are wide, and he looks crazed in the way that makes people wary of him, makes people avoid him, but Steve is smiling at him softly, fondly. “And I got to tell her that, and she didn’t believe me at first, but I showed her the game I made, and she thought it was funny.”

“You think it’ll work for your other classes?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

Steve leans forward, brushing their noses together.

“Proud of you,” he whispers.

Eddie gazes at his lip, soft and pink and pretty, and reaches to hold the lapel of his vest.

“Do I get another kiss?”

Steve smiles, setting the paper down and turning to face him, leaning close. His fingers find Eddie’s chin, trace his jaw softly, trail down to his neck.

“Do you want one?” he asks in a low voice. Eddie could swoon.

“God, yes.”

Steve smiles in a way that makes Eddie’s stomach flip over, lazy and easy and confident, and his hand tightens on Eddie’s neck, his palm pressing to his throat. His hand is cold against Eddie’s skin. Eddie forgets to breath, his eyes drifting shut as Steve leans closer.

There’s a stretch of time before Steve finally kisses him. Eddie thinks Steve might just be looking at him. (He doesn’t really mind.)

Eddie whines when Steve traces his bottom lip with his tongue, and Steve’s hand tightens. Steve shushes him softly.

“We’re in my place of work,” he says, his lips brushing Eddie’s as they both smile. “You gotta be quiet.”

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay.”

He kisses him finally, just as he’s pulling at Eddie’s neck and Eddie is exhaling sharply, like Steve is stealing his breath right from his chest. He kisses him back desperately, lifting a hand to hold Steve’s against his neck, pushing forward and sighing.

He feels Steve’s lips curve into a smile against his, sighs when Steve’s tongue slides into his mouth. It’s too much for the back room of Steve’splace of work, too sloppy and messy, too wet, too fucking horny, but neither of them really care. Steve’s hand tightens again when Eddie whines again, and he squeezes Steve’s hand in apology.

Steve’s head tilts so he can kiss Eddie deeper, and Eddie lifts a hand to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in Steve’s hair and tugging gently. Steve pulls away with a gasp, his eyes shut blissfully, and Eddie grins, tugging again, and Steve’s lips part for him to speak, but before he can, there’s a knock on the door.

They both startle, and jump apart, but the door doesn’t open.

“Hey, dingus,” Robin says through the door. “I need some help stocking, if you can spare a moment.”

Steve and Eddie look at each other. And burst into giggles.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed pink, his hair messy, and Eddie knows he looks the same. (He kind of hopes Steve left a handprint around his neck.)

“I should go,” Steve says, still breathless. Eddie nods.

“I— Me too.”

Steve picks up Eddie’s biology packet, looking at the75%again with a happy smile before he gives it back.

“Don’t forget to tell Wayne,” he says as Eddie is stuffing it back into his backpack.

“I won’t. He’ll probably put it on the fridge or something.”

Steve kisses him one last time before they open the door, and as Steve goes to restock snacks under the counter, Robin gives Eddie a knowing look.

“Seeya, Buckley.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

He speeds to work, explains to his boss that he’s a little late because he had to tell a friend (gag) that he’s finally, fuckingfinallypassing a class. His boss isn’t mad. Just congratulates him quickly and tells him to get to work.

Eddie leaves the paper on the kitchen counter next to Steve’s dead flowers for Wayne to see, and the next day, it’s stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

—————————

It doesn’t rain a lot on Hawkins, but when it does, itpours.

Eddie doesn’t have an umbrella. Every time Wayne gets him one, Eddie loses it, forgets it at school, at the Hideout, or it breaks somehow. He gave up on umbrellas a while ago, and just suffers through wet hair. It’s not the worst. It’s cold, but it’s not like it makes him any less presentable.

He uses his bandana to tie his hair up, off his neck, and takes a breath as he waits for the windows to unfog. And he waits, fiddling through his tapes until something moves in his peripheral and he looks up.

It’s the girl that moved in recently. With the red hair. Max.

Eddie’s never talked to her, but she’s one of Steve’s kids. And it’s fuckingpouring, and she’s holding a skateboard.

Eddie pulls the van up and rolls down his window.

“Hey, Red!” he shouts over the rain, and she looks up at him, furrowing her brows. “The hell are you doing?”

“I have school,” she says.

Right. Duh.

“You’re gonna get fuckin’ hypothermia, come on,” he says, beckoning with a tilt of his head. “I’ll give you a ride.”

She narrows her eyes, suspiciously, and he gets it, fair, but her jacket is getting soaked.

“Come on, I got school too.”

She goes begrudgingly, sits in the passenger seat and faces the window.

“Why isn’t your mom driving you?” he asks, annoyed on her behalf as he starts driving. She’s quiet for a moment.

“…She’s hungover.”

Oh.

He looks outside and nods.

She’s quiet. He glances at her as he drives (more slowly than usual on account of the rain, but also because there’s a kid in the vehicle), and finds her looking around, her eyes finding the frayed fabric of the mats, the old air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror, the bag of weed stashed under the radio dials.

“So,” Eddie says. “I’ve seen you around with Lucas.”

She looks back out the window.

“And?”

Eddie shrugs even though she isn’t looking.

“I dunno, Lucas is cool. Are you guys dating?”

“…No.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didnot.”

“Okay.”

She huffs, gripping the end of her skateboard. It’s duct taped. Eddie wants to buy her a new one. He would, if he had the money.

“We were,” she says finally, still looking out the window. “It didn’t work.”

He nods.

“You still like him though.”

“Shut up.”

He just snorts.

“You wanna pick a tape?”

She flips through them, reads everything Eddie wrote in his scribble handwriting. Judas Priest, Slayer, Dio, Twisted Sister, Scorpions. She picks Mötley Crüe curiously, and Eddie quickly tells her she might want to turn the volume down before she hits play.

Eddie sings along to Smokin’ In the Boys’ Room, obnoxious and loud, and when he looks at her again, she’s laughing and bobbing her head. (And now he wants to make her a mixtape.)

“Gotta feeling it’s gonna be raining all day,” he says as they pull into the parking lot. “You got anything after school?“

“Uh.” She hesitates, looking at him nervously as the music cuts off. “Yeah, I have to— to see the counsellor.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie says lightly. “Take your time, meet me here when you’re done. I can show you some Motörhead.”

She has a pretty smile.

He’s tempted to ask her to join to the Hellfire table during lunch, but she glances at them and walks in the opposite direction, and he’s reminded that Dustin and Mike are Steve’s kids too. That she knows them. That she avoids Lucas, and she avoids them too. Eddie doesn’t say anything when Dustin and Mike glance at each other, both of them watching her leave.

Eddie likes Dustin and Mike. And Lucas, even though he doesn’t spend as much time with them. (Eddie will never understand the desire to hang it with the basketball guys that are all objectively douchebags, but he also just… gets it. Why Lucas would rather hang out with them than Eddie, because being with Eddie would make anyone a target by default.)

All three of them are passionate about D&D. They rant and ramble about old campaigns, old characters, their friend Will.You wouldlovehim, Mike’s said. Eddie remembers Steve mentioning him a while ago.Will the Wise.

It isn’t raining too hard when school ends. Eddie sits in the front seat, flips through his tapes as he waits for Max. When she arrives, her hair and skin are wet, and she shuts the door wordlessly, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jacket. She looks tense, her brows furrowed slightly.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says lightly. “Just a little headache.”

“You need a painkiller?”

“Uh, no, I took one already.” She gives him a sceptical look as he starts the car. “You have painkillers?”

He does. Lots. In his room, the kitchen, the van, all just in case Steve needs it.

“Yeah.” He meets her look. “I also have bandaids, you wanna report me for that?”

“I’m not reporting you for anything.” She leans back in her seat. “Just wondering how much you’d charge me, you know, if I’d get a next-door-neighbour-discount.”

“I wouldn’t charge you for painkillers.”

“What about this?” She reaches for the weed, and he snatches it from her hand.

“Absolutelynot,” he says adamantly, sticking it into the pocket in the door as she laughs.

“What, why not?”

“You’re way too young, Red, you’re not getting weed.”

“How old wereyouwhen you started?” she asks, turning to face him as she laughs.

“I…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Hey.” She laughs again. “I was your age, which is how I know you’re too young. Get back to me when you’re twenty seven.”

“Twenty seven?”

“Yes.”

She just groans in disgust and looks through the tapes again.

“What was that band you mentioned this morning?”

“Uh, Motörhead. You sure you’re good with your headache?”

“Mhm.”

She’s quiet while they listen to it, and when he glances over at her, her expression is lighter, calmer. She’s bobbing her head slightly. He grins.

“Hey,” he says as she’s getting out of the van, leaning across the center console. “You and your mom need anything, you come by, alright?”

“Just not weed.”

“Get outta here.”

She snickers and says, “Thanks, Eddie,” before she shuts the door. Her mom is smoking a cigarette by the front door, eyeing Eddie’s van suspiciously, so he gives her a wave.

—————————

The shop gets hot when Eddie is working, even when he lets the top of his overalls fall over his hips, wearing just a stained tank top. He always feels a little gross, covered in sweat and grease and dirt, but it feelsgood. He’sworking, and by the end of the day he feels oddly content, knowing what he’s gotten done, what he’s gotten to work.

He knows there’s smudges of grease on his face as he world, wipes tickling drops of sweat off with a careless hand, too focussed to really give a shit. He’s on his back, laying under a car and working, his brain quiet as Louder Than Hell plays from a speaker that’s close by him.

He almost drops his tool when there’s a kick to the board he’s laying on, and he huffs, grabbing the bumper of the car and pushing himself out from under it, looking up to find Steve smiling down at him.

“Hey!” Eddie says brightly, excitedly, scrambling to get up. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” Steve says, his voice thin, his eyes widening as he watches Eddie stand and grab a rag to wipe his hands. “Missed you.”

Eddie’s face softens, and he swallows, wanting to tug him into a kiss.

“Missed you too.”

Steve clears his throat, looking away. His cheeks flush pink.

“How have I never visited you here before?” Steve asks. Eddie shrugs, leaning against the car.

“It’s out of the way,” he says, crossing his arms, looking Steve up and down. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a green shirt with a navy blue jacket that’s halfway zipped up. His hands are stuffed in the pockets. Eddie wants to eat him. “Not really near anything you go to.”

Steve looks back at him, and Eddie can practically feel his eyes scrape over his grease marked face, over his neck that’s exposed because he’s got his hair tied up.

“What time do you get off tonight?” Steve asks, stepping closer. Eddie glances at his lips.

“Nine.”

Steve nods slowly, his tongue sliding across his lips.

“Why do you ask?” Eddie asks, even though he knows. Steve hesitates.

“You wanna come over after?” He steps up closer, close enough that even if someone was nearby they wouldn’t be able to hear his voice over Mötley Crüe. “Fuck me up against a wall,” he adds, his eyes trained on Eddie’s lips.

Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and his eyes widen. He takes a moment to swallow.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Steve grins.

“Is that a yes?”

“Christ, Steve, yes,obviously.”

Steve’s smile widens, and Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You look so fucking good, Eddie,” Steve says after a moment. Eddie’s cheeks flush again. “You’re so hot.”

“Could say the same to you.”

Steve just tilts his head.

“I gotta crush on you.”

Eddie looks away.

They’ve done everything short of marry each other. They’ve kissed until their mouths were sore and bruised, until spit dripped down their chins. They’ve fucked until early hours of the morning, until their limbs were sore and damp with each other’s sweat. They’ve held each other as they cried, late at night when Steve wakes up from dreams he can’t talk about, when Eddie gets so worked up with frustration that all he can do is sit and let tears fall.

Steve refers to him as hisboyfriendto Wayne and Robin, and Eddie jokes about marrying him, makes fake rings from bread bag twist ties and rubber bands and sewing thread. Steve casually saysI love you, and Eddie says it back, and they’re both open and shameless about whatever they want from each other, Steve begging for Eddie’s fingers to pull harder at his hair, Eddie holding his mouth open for Steve’s spit.

And yet.

I gotta crush on you.

It gets Eddie flustered, makes his face flush with heat, makes his stomach flip over like a high school Steve accidentally brushed against his arm while walking past.

And Steve is grinning because he knows exactly what he does to Eddie.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Eddie says, and Steve giggles. “I gotta work.”

“Okay,” Steve says lightly, looking Eddie up and down again. “I’ll let you work.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sing-songs as Steve walks away backward.

Steve mouthsLove you.

Eddie watches him go, fidgeting with the dirty rag, his heart beating too fast.

“The hell’s that?”

Eddie startled, tearing his eyes away from Steve’s ass to look at a coworker, who’s also wiping his own hands with a rag, looking at Steve with his brows furrowed.

“Uh, a friend.” Gag. “He just came by to say hi.”

“Doesn’t really look like someone you’d be down to hang out with.”

Eddie looks at him sceptically.

“Appearances aren’t everything, Daryl.”

He just laughs and shrugs.

Eddie counts theminutesuntil he gets off, rushing through checking out, rushing through a shower, rushing to his van, rushing to Steve’s.

The downstairs lights are on as he pulls the van into the driveway, and he pauses for a second to take a deep breath before he hops out and goes to the door.

It’s unlocked, and he steps inside, and there’s just enough time for him to shut the door behind himself before Steve is grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a harsh kiss.

Eddie lets out a surprised noise, catching Steve’s head between his hands, letting his mouth fall open, and Steve is kissing him like he’d die if he didn’t, hard and fast and hot, desperate.

Eddie groans loudly when Steve’s hand finds his neck, his palm pressing against his throat, and Steve pulls and pushes until Eddie’s back hits a wall. Eddie exhales sharply, grinning, sliding his hands to push his fingers into Steve’s hair, and he tugs. Steve lets out a whine, sucking on Eddie’s lip.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps when they part to breath. “Thought I was supposed to be fuckingyouon a wall.”

“Then do it.”

Eddie shoves him, turning them so Steve hits the wall, and Steve is grinning, his eyes closed blissfully. Eddie kisses him hard, biting his lip, tugging his hair before moving a hand to hold his waist.

“Condom?” Eddie asks breathlessly, panting into Steve’s mouth. “Lube?”

“Back pocket.”

Eddie chuckles lowly, tugging his hair one last time.

“Slut.” Steve laughs, squeezing his neck as Eddie slides both hands to his ass, squeezing before he pulls the condom and bottle out. He kisses Steve again, licking into his mouth. “Turn around.”

“Take off your shirt first,” Steve says breathlessly. “Please.”

Eddie does, tossing the shirt away carelessly, and Steve stands away from the wall long enough to take his own shirt off, throwing it before he turns around, chest pressing to the wall.

“Fucking gorgeous, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, running a hand over his back before he leans down and licks a line up his spine. Steve exhales shakily.

“Eddie, please.”

Eddie beams, kissing the nape of his neck as he reaches around and undoes Steve’s jeans, tugs them down with his underwear, pushes the condom into his own pocket before he carefully starts to open Steve up.

“Christ, baby,” he says roughly. “So pretty.”

“Fuck, Eddie, come on.”

Eddie presses his other hand flat against Steve’s back, holding him against the wall firmly, and Steve groans loudly, pushing back against Eddie’s hand.

“So desperate, aren’t you,” Eddie says softly, leaning forward and kissing his shoulder. Steve is nodding. “Didn’t even wanna wait for a bed. Want me right by the door.”

“Yes,Eddie, please.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut at the sound Steve makes when he finally pushes into him, holding onto Steve’s waist tightly. Steve groans, low in his throat, the sound broken in a sob.

“So noisy, Stevie,” Eddie says fondly, grinning against his back, slowly pulling his hips back before pushing back in.

“Eddie, hold my hand,” Steve whimpers. “Please, please, my hand—” Eddie takes his hand, twining their fingers and holding his hand against the wall, sliding his other hand to Steve’s belly and pressing, holding him tightly. “Shit, yes, yes—”

Eddie tilts his chin up and licks the side of his neck, and Steve moans softly, turning his face like he’s trying to look at Eddie over his shoulder, but his eyes are closed. Eddie kisses his jaw messily, licks his cheek.

“You like it in here?” he asks, his voice rough. “Right by the door?”

“Shit, yeah, yes.”

“Wall’s not uncomfortable?”

“Eddie, ‘s perfect, don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop. Want you in every room of this fucking house,” Eddie murmurs, moving faster. Steve bites his lip, his eyes squeezing shut, and he nods. His hand tightens on Eddie’s. “The kitchen, wanna eat you out while you’re bent over the counter.” Steve nods desperately, squeezing his hand. “The living room, in the shower.”

“My parents’ room,” Steve chokes, his voicewrecked. Eddie’s eyes widen, and he grins, fucking him harder.

“Yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Why there?”

Steve grunts, pushing back against Eddie, who presses against his belly harder.

“Spite.”

“God, I’m in love with you.”

Steve giggles, turning so his cheek presses against the wall.

“‘M in love with you too.”

“Where do you wanna do it?” He moves forward so his face is up close to Steve’s, and he licks a drop of sweat from his temple, just because. “In front of their mirror? Dresser? Their bed?”

“Fuck, yes, Eddie.”

“Yes, what? Which one?”

“All of it,fuck, want you everywhere.”

Eddie groans, moving so his chest presses to Steve’s back, fucking him until soft noises escape his throat with every movement.

“Want you in the pool someday,” he says roughly, his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Want you all— all wet and shiny.”

Steve laughs breathlessly, throwing his head back.

“You’re kinky.”

“You’re the one that wants me to fuck you in your parents’ room.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Eddie laughs, his face pressing into Steve’s hair. “God, Eddie— Feel so— Feel so good.”

“Yeah?” He presses a messy kiss to Steve’s neck, grinning at the low moan that escapes him. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Sodeep,” Steve groans, taking a gasping breath that tells Eddie that he’s crying. “You make me feel so—“

He cuts off with another gasp, and Eddie squeezes his hand, sliding his other hand to his chest, pressing to his heart.

“So what, baby?”

Steve whimpers, pressing his ass back against Eddie with a weak moan.

“Beautiful,” he chokes. “You make me feel so pretty, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes burn. He presses a kiss to Steve’s shoulder, nuzzles his face into his neck, inhaling deeply and dragging his fingertips across Steve’s chest.

“You are beautiful, baby,” he murmurs. “Fucking everything about you, Stevie, my beautiful boy.”

Steve whines, turning his head to press his cheek to the wall. His eyes are closed, and there are tears falling over his flushed cheeks and caught in his eyelashes. He looks fucking holy.

“‘M your boy,” he says weakly, his voice broken. “‘M yours, Eddie, I’m—“

“My what boy?” Eddie prompts, breathless, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck, beautiful.”

“Say the whole thing.”

“Eddie, I’m gonna come.”

“Say the whole thing.”

“Fuck, I’m— I’m your beautiful boy.”

Steve throws his head back with a sob when he comes, his whole body tensing, and Eddie grunts, biting the side of Steve’s neck as he follows him over the edge.

“Fuck,” Steve says harshly. Eddie hums softly, shifting to pull out, but Steve’s hand flies to his hip, holding him weakly. “Not yet. Please.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, kissing his neck gently. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” Steve says breathlessly. “You’re amazing.”

Eddie giggles, kissing his neck again.

“You’reamazing.”

Steve shakes his head, smiling over his shoulder at Eddie, who gently releases his hand to wipe his tears.

“You know, I never cried during sex before you.”

“Is that a good thing?“ Eddie asks softly, touching his face tenderly.

Steve sighs, reaching back to push his fingers into Eddie’s hair.

“‘S weird to say it feels good to cry, but…” Eddie kisses his neck again, holding him close. “It feels good. ‘S like a release.”

His eyes flutter open to find Eddie’s, glance down at his lips.

“I like it when you make me cry,” he murmurs, and Eddie scoffs.

“Freak.”

“Kiss me,” Steve says after a soft giggle. He does. “Round two in the shower?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

—————————

Eddie should have known this year was going too smoothly.

He’s been passing classes, which itself would be enough of a miracle for him to be satisfied, but he’s been making good money with deals at school, and he loves working at Morgan’s, and every campaign has been wildly successful, and he has aboyfriendthatloveshim.

But Eddie has never been the type of person that just gets things in life. Nothing is ever,everhanded to him. His aunt used to say it was God testing him, challenging his faith.

Well, consider it challenged, Aunt Laura.

He should have known it was all going to go to shit sooner or later.

Because now he’s hiding in his supplier’s boathouse, hidden under a tarp, trembling like a leaf, like a kicked dog, the sound of Chrissy Cunningham’s bones snapping echoing in his head.

He’s fucked.

Everyone’s going to think he did it. Because of course he did. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, with his Satan club, and his loud music and his dumb fucking hair. Who else could it have been?

He doesn’t know how long he’s there, hiding, cowering. He wants to stay there forever, hidden away where no one can find him, no one can point fingers or blame him for something he’s almost entirely sure he didn’t do. (Maybe he lost his mind. He supposes it’s the only rational explanation for…)

His eyes fly open when he hears voices, voices he doesn’t really recognise because he doesn’t really feel like he’s in his body. He barely recognises his own hands.

He waits for a little while, listening and listening and listening, as the voices call his name, as they talk to each other. He wonders if they’re real too.

The voices get closer, and closer, and suddenly he’s slamming someone against a wall, broken bottle to their neck, and voices are shouting his name, and his eyes are brimming with tears. He can’t quite place the person he’s looking at, their face swimming and the shadows cast across it too dark.

They’re both breathing hard, and Eddie feels a little lightheaded, so he instinctively presses harder, but the person isn’t fighting him off, or yelling at him. They put their hand on Eddie’s, over the glass bottle.

Their skin is warm, and soft, they say his name quietly.

Eddie.

Eddie blinks hard, meeting their eyes as other voices are talking behind him. Their eyes are shining even in the darkness of the boathouse, lashes dark and long and pretty. Princess eyes.

“Steve?” Eddie chokes, and Steve nods slightly, his chin still tilted up because of the glass. His hand shifts on Eddie’s, brushing over his knuckles.

“Need you to drop the bottle,” he says quietly, and Eddie blinks again, his eyes flicking down to his neck, and he’sholding broken glass to his boyfriend’s neck.

Eddie practically jumps away, his hand flinging the glass to the ground as he gasps, looking up at Steve with watery, desperate eyes, but Steve just nods with a little, reassuring smile and puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“‘S okay,” Steve says softly, and there are more voices behind Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t turn. He just looks at Steve, wishing he’d tell him it was all just a dream, just a bad trip. Chrissy Cunningham is fine, at home in her nice house with her nice boyfriend, and nothing ever scared her enough to want Special K. Eddie’s trailer is fine, there aren’t any bloodstains in the floor or theceiling, and Eddie can go home and drink a beer and go to bed, and everything’s fine.

Steve doesn’t say that.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” he says over Eddie’s shoulder, and there’s a small moment of resistance before it falls silent, and the door shuts, and Steve looks at Eddie with a soft, “Hey, baby.”

Eddie can’t talk. He can barely breathe.

“Hey,” Steve says softly. “I’m right here, come on.” He takes Eddie’s hand gently and holds it to his own chest, taking a deep breath and nodding when Eddie tries to copy him. “In all the way,” he says calmly.

He’s too calm.

He’swaytoo calm for the absolute shitshow that’s going on right now.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve says softly, sliding his other hand to Eddie’s neck and holding him gently. “Okay? I’m right here.”

“Steve—“

“You got it,” Steve murmurs. “Come here.” He gently pulls him over to sit down, which is probably a good idea because Eddie can’t really see, and his head feels like it’s spinning. “Slow, baby, it’s okay. In all the way. …And out.”

Steve is crouched on the floor in front of him, holding his face, and Eddie still can’t see, but now it’s because he’s crying again. He hasn’t cried in weeks.

“I know,” Steve is telling him. “I know, it’s gonna be okay.”

“She just wanted drugs,” Eddie chokes, his voice weak, and Steve nods. “I didn’t— I don’t-”

“I know.” Steve is too calm. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Eddie.”

“I’m gonna— They’re gonna arrest me, I’m—”

Steve shakes his head, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks, wiping his tears.

“That’s not gonna happen, Eddie,” he says firmly, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Hey, listen. I’m not gonna let that happen, okay?”

“Steve—”

“We’re gonna figure this out, baby,” he says gently, nodding. Eddie takes a shuddering breath. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Steve holds his face and wipe his tears and leans up to kiss his forehead.

“We’re gonna figure it out,” he says quietly. “But we need to you to tell us what happened.”

Snap.

Eddie flinches. Whimpers. Like a kicked dog. (That’s all he is now. Maybe that’s all he’s ever been. All bark.)

“You’re okay,” Steve whispers, running his hands over Eddie’s head gently. “I’m right here, you’re alright.”

He presses their foreheads together, breathing deeply, and Eddie clutches at his wrists, trying and trying to breathe with him.

As his breathing evens out, the door creaks open, and Steve lifts his head to look, one of his hands pulling away, but it’s quiet until someone else is kneeling next to Steve, and Eddie opens his eyes.

“Hey,” Robin says softly. Her eyes are shining like they always are, but it’s different now. “You okay?”

He just looks at her, and there’s a pause before she answers herself.

“You will be.”

She says it’s confidently, firmly. Like he has no choice. He just nods.

“We’re gonna figure everything out,” she tells him, like Steve, and he nods again. “You need to tell us what happened.”

He exhale hard, swallowing thickly, and she reaches up to take his hand gently. He holds her hand tightly, shaking, and looks at Steve, eyes filling with tears again.

“You’re not gonna believe me,” he chokes.

Robin and Steve glance at each other. Robin’s hand tighten on his, steadying it.

“Why don’t you try us?”

They believe him.

Steve stays close while Eddie tells them everything, close enough for Eddie’s eyes to find him every time he gets short of breath, and Steve gives him little, encouraging nods, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, listening intently.

They tell him things. Things he doesn’t really want to hear, things that are almost more wild and insane than what he has to tell them. Things about monsters and flickering lights and an alternate, upside down dimension where everything is dark and covered in vines. Dustin uses D&D terms to explain things. Steve follows along.

Eddie wants to cry.

He just wanted to graduate.

—————————

He’s in Nancy Wheeler’s basement. He never thought he’d be here.

It’s cozy. Quiet. She says her parents never come down here. That he’s safe here.

Everyone falls asleep. Even Max. (And Dustin, who’s supposed to be on “Max watch,” but Eddie will take over for now.)

It’s quiet except everyone’s breathing. He looks around at them, at Nancy curled up with her hair in her face, at Lucas and Max, both facing each other and almost touching even if they still refuse to acknowledge their relationship.

It would be beautiful without the context of certain death.

Steve is awake when Eddie comes back from the bathroom. Eddie pauses, their eyes meeting across the dark room, and he leans against the bannister at the bottom of the stairs, watching Steve sit up sleepily.

Eddie beckons with a finger. Steve goes over to him.

“You okay?” Eddie asks quietly when he’s in front of him. Steve’s eyes are shining with anguish.

“God, I never wanted you involved in any of this, Eddie,” he says weakly, and Eddie nods. He can’t stop thinking about it, how Steve’s been a part of this world, how he’s fought monsters andsurvived, all while Eddie just lived obliviously.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, reaching out and taking Steve’s hand gently. “But it’s…”

“It’s not fine, Eddie,” Steve argues, and Eddie wants to smile at the fact that he knows him so well, that he knew what Eddie was going to say. “None of this is fine, you should— you should be at Morgan’s, or studying, or—“

“Stevie,” Eddie interrupts desperately, pulling at his hand until Steve steps closer. “You can’t do this to yourself, sweetheart, this is… This is happening. We can’t… torture ourselves thinking about whatcouldbe happening instead. Okay?”

Steve sighs, looking away, his eyes brimming with tears.

“When this is all over, though…” Eddie says, squeezing his hand. Steve looks at him, smiling weakly, and Eddie hesitates, remembering that he’s wanted for murder.

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve says softly. Knowing. “We know… We know some people in the government. They can get your charges dropped. It’ll be okay.”

Eddie nods, taking a deep breath.

“We just gotta get there,” Steve adds. “Okay?”

Eddie nods again. He glances around the room, scanning everyone’s sleeping bodies, before he reaches up and touches Steve’s chin, leaning in to kiss him as softly as humanly possible.

“I love you,” Steve breathes when they part, his thumb brushing Eddie’s hand gently. Eddie stares at him, biting his lip as he thinks, and Steve tilts his head.

“I— I wanted to ask you something,” Eddie says softly. Steve squeezes his hand.

“Okay.”

“I… was gonna wait until I graduated,” Eddie adds, choking on his words as his eyes burn. “But I don’t — I don’t know if that’s ever gonna happen, and I need something to look forward to after all this is over, and—”

“Eddie,” Steve says quietly, squeezing his hand. “What is it?”

Eddie stares for a moment longer.

“Do you wanna move in with me?” he asks finally. Steve’s eyes widen, and Eddie’s mouth is talking again before he can think. “Not— Not the trailer, I mean you can if you want, I know Wayne would like to have you around, but I was thinking, like— There are probably a bunch of car shops I can work at in Indianapolis or somewhere else, farther from Hawkins, or some music stores or something, and, I mean, you can work anywhere you want, but we can find a little apartment, and the kids can come visit, and if— if Robin wants to come, we can get a two-bedroom, and—”

Steve interrupts him with a kiss, reaching up with his other hand to hold Eddie’s face gently.

“I would love to live with you,” he says when they part, and Eddie exhales in relief, his shoulders falling. Steve smiles at him, kisses him again, wipes away a tear that falls over his cheek. “I can’t wait.”

Eddie closes his eyes, his head falling forward until it rests on Steve’s, and Steve sighs, sliding his hand to the back of Eddie’s head, into his hair.

“Wanna wake up to you every morning,” Steve murmurs. “Make you coffee and have dinner ready for you.”

“You wanna be my housewife or something?”

Steve scoffs lightly.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I do.”

Eddie smiles and lifts his head to gaze at him.

“Can’t wait,” he whispers, then kisses him softly, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. Steve’s hand tightens on his head, his other hand squeezing Eddie’s. “I love you so much.”

“I’m gonna marry you someday,” Steve says, eyes closed, lips smiling. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, gripping Steve’s shirt tightly.

He knows they can’t do that. He’s thought about it plenty, every time he’s twisted paper or wire or thread into rings and silently slipped them onto Steve’s finger. Late at night with Steve sleeping across from him, the time Eddie had to gently clean dry blood from his face. While they’ve sipped coffee while watching some sports game with Wayne.

He’s wished Steve was a girl. And then he’s thought that that would be pointless, because Eddie’s gay, and then he’s wished then he wasn’t gay, and that Steve was a girl. It was all a big mindfuck mess that just resulted in him crying.

Crying because he’s gay and because Steve is a man. Crying because he can’t marry him, or hold his hand and kiss him out in public. Crying because helovesSteve, in a way that’s so normal and domestic and so painfully average, but so beautiful in a way that no one else can see. So beautiful it makes his stomach twist and chest ache, that it makes him cry.

“Promise?” he whispers. Steve smiles. Nods. Kisses him gently.

“Promise.”

—————————

The air feels oddly peaceful. The sun is out, and all Eddie can hear is Dustin’s laughter as he tackles him and reaches for the waistband of his underwear, grinning as Dustin screeches and tries to fight him off.

It’s probably the calm before the storm or whatever, Eddie thinks.

They’re both panting when Eddie lets go of him, tousling his hair roughly enough to make him giggle and stumble away from him, and he looks up to Steve.

Who’s already looking at him. Smiling, holding a glass bottle in his hands. Robin is talking to him, and Steve looks like he’s half listening, gazing back at Eddie. Eddie tilts his head, smiling softly.

“Go help the Sinclairs,” Eddie tells Dustin, picking up his trash can lid shield. Dustin nods, taking his own, flipping it over and looking at it proudly before trekking up the hill to meet them, and Eddie turns to go to Steve.

Robin sees him coming and snorts, slapping Steve’s shoulder and standing promptly.

“I’m gonna go visit Nance,” she says lightly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Steve says, and she shoots him a look at Eddie can’t quite read. Steve can read it, obviously. They can practically communicate just with eye contact. Eddie loves it.

He takes Robin’s seat, moves it closer to Steve just to press their knees together.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, taking a deep breath. He sets his shield in the grass. Steve looks at it.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, in a way that doesn’t sound very okay. “Just… I don’t know.”

“Talk to me.” Eddie watches the others. Nancy is showing Robin how to shoot the shotgun, standing behind her and adjusting her arms as Max watches. Steve is quiet for a moment.

“Robin said something that… I don’t know. Is stuck in my head.”

“What’s that?”

“She just… Said she has a bad feeling.”

Eddie looks at him. He looks tense, anxious, his eyes scanning the horizon like he’s looking for something.

“Tell her to shove that bad feeling up her ass,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs, looking at him. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Steve stares at him.

His eyes soften, and he’s almost smiling, but not quite, and after a moment, he takes a breath, his lips parting to speak, but he doesn’t say anything.

“What is it?” Eddie asks softly. He can hear Robin laughing about something.

“I just…” Steve’s eyes flicker across his face. “I was gonna wait until everything was over to— to tell you, but…”

Eddie shifts to face him.

“Tell me what?” Steve hesitates, twisting the bottle in his hands, and Eddie’s stomach twists with it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, ‘s just…” He takes a deep breath. “My parents are leaving. Hawkins. They’re moving. This summer,” he says choppily, anxiously, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “They decided they’re done with Hawkins and the curse or whatever, but…” He takes another breath and looks up at Eddie, his eyes shining nervously. “They’re leaving me the house.”

Eddie blinks. He might have emotional whiplash.

“They’re… leaving you?”

Steve sighs, turning to face him.

“Forget about them,” he says. “They’re leaving me the house. And— And money.” He’s looking at Eddie almost desperately. “I wanna move in with you, and I wouldloveto move to Indianapolis or— or Boston or wherever someday, but I really wanna stay in Hawkins until the kids graduate and move wherever, and I thought…”

Eddie stares at him, and Steve drops the bottle, reaching over and grabbing his arm, holding him tightly.

“I was also gonna ask Robin to come, since she— she doesn’t get along with her parents, but I thought—” He cuts off to swallow, choking on his own voice. “You could have D&D in the basement. And we can have movie nights with all the kids, and Nancy can come over, and— and it’s secluded enough that no one will see you— I mean, we’ll get your charges dropped, but it’s still, like, safer, and you can bring your guitar and everything, and—”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts weakly. Steve falls silent immediately, staring at Eddie, wide-eyed. “Yes.”

Steve exhales.

“Okay.”

Eddie smiled weakly.

“Where will we go after?” he asks softly. Steve tilts his head. “After the kids all grow up, and we… wanna get outta Hawkins.”

Steve shrugs.

“I’d be happy anywhere with you,” he says quietly. Eddie’s chest hurts. “We could just… take the van. Go everywhere. Or we could— we could sell the house, get a nice RV. Go on a road trip.”

“Where do you wanna go?”

Steve pauses, shrugging.

“We could go to a music festival,” he says, smiling, and Eddiebeams. “See Sabbath or Metallica or whatever.”

Eddie’s eyes burn, and he squeezes them shut, swallowing, and after a moment, Steve’s lips press to his in a chaste kiss. Eddie opens his eyes, looking at him.

Steve takes a deep breath and lets go of Eddie’s arm.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Eddie says softly. Steve looks at him again. The sun is shining in his eyes, making parts of his irises look like they’re glowing, making his hair shine like gold. Eddie falls in love all over again.

He takes Steve’s hand. Gazes at it. Feels Steve watch him. Doesn’t care if the others see.

He brushes his thumb over Steve’s knuckles and thinks about marrying him.

Silently, he released Steve’s hand and looks at his own, twisting and sliding the ring off his left hand before he reaches for Steve’s again.

The ring is too big for his ring finger, but fits nicely on his index finger. Steve doesn’t say anything as Eddie slides it on, as he just holds his hand a moment and looks at it, touching it. When Eddie finally looks up at him, nerves bundling in his stomach, Steve’s eyes are brimming with tears, and he looks back at Eddie before looking away, swallowing.

He’s smiling. Eddie lifts his hand and presses his lips to his knuckles.

—————————

Eddie doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to let Steve out of his sight.

But he has to.

His eyes get caught on his ring on Steve’s fingers every time it flashes, shines in the light.

Steve’s eyes shine even in the Upside Down. His gaze is intense as he looks at Eddie, like he’s trying to say something without words.

“Keep 'em busy for a minute or two. We'll take care of Vecna. Don't try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just...”

Eddie almost zones out while Dustin talks to him, snaps back into his body just to say that he and Dustin arenot heroes.

And then Steve is turning away, starting to leave, and it’s like the world is crashing down around Eddie, and his chest is tight, and he’s saying Steve’s name before he can stop himself. Steve turns to look at him again, and Eddie can tell that he feels the same way, like the air is wrapped too tightly around him.

“…Make him pay.”

Steve stares back at him for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie, and then he’s stepping up close to him, and Eddie thinks for a second that he’s about to kiss him.

But he just presses two fingers into his chest, and Eddie forgets to breathe. Steve hesitates, his mouth opening with a soft breath, stammering, blinking hard in a way that means he’s trying not to cry.

“Comebackto me.”

Eddie inhales, reaching up and holding Steve’s hand to himself for a moment. The ring is cold. He nods.

Eddie watches them go. Robin touches Steve’s back as they’re leaving, and even as he walks away, Eddie can see his should rise and fall as he takes a shuddering breath. Eddie swallows, balling his hands into tight fists and squeezing.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin asks.

Eddie exhales, relaxing his hands and shaking them slightly.

“Ask me that again when we’re not facing certain death.”

Dustin is quiet, and after a few moments Eddie turns to look at him. He’s staring at him, an odd, unreadable look in his eyes, and Eddie knows he’s figuring it out.

“…Okay.”

—————————

It’s so cold.

It doesn’t even hurt anymore. He’s just trembling, shivering, clutching weakly at Dustin’s jacket as Dustin holds him and cries. Shakes him. Yells his name.

“‘M okay,” Eddie says softly. “‘S fine, Henderson.”

He’s losing consciousness. He doesn’t want to. He tries not to, squeezing his hand on Dustin’s jacket, taking a ragged breath, but he can barely feel it, and his eyes fall shut.

When he opens them, Steve is hovering over him, tears streaking down his face, but his brows are furrowed, lips pursed in focus, and he wrapping something around Eddie’s waist tightly as Dustin does the same to Eddie’s arm. And Eddie feels like he’s on fire.

He lets out a wail, a scream, and his voice is rough and ragged and raw, and he can just hear Steve’s soft, “I know, baby, I know.”

“Fuck, it hurts,” Eddie cries. Steve nods, tying the fabric off tightly, and Eddie sobs.

“I know, I know, I know.” Steve is breathing hard, muttering under his breath, and Nancy’s voice calls Robin’s name sharply.

Steve moves, grabbing Eddie’s bandana off his head and shifting so he’s holding Eddie, pressing the bandana to his cheek. Eddie whimpers in pain. The salt of his tears hurts his skin.

“I’ve got you,” Steve is murmuring, crying. “You’re fine, Eddie, it’s okay, it’s just… We just need to get you to a doctor, it’s gonna be fine—”

“Steve,” Eddie says weakly, lifting a hand. Steve takes it, the ring clicking against Eddie’s. His hands are covered in blood. Eddie’s blood.

“You’re okay, baby, it’s fine, it’s just— It’s the same as mine, right? We’ll have matching scars.” Steve’s voice is trembling.

“Stevie.” Eddie exhales shakily. Coughs. His mouth tastes like metal. “I love you.”

“Stop,” Steve says, his voice thick. His tears are landing in Eddie’s face, in his dirty hair. “Don’t— Don’t do that, you’re gonna be fine, Eddie.” He sobs, clutching at Eddie’s hand. Eddie tries to squeeze back. He can’t. “Robin, help!”

“I love you so much,” Eddie murmurs.

“Stop, Eddie, you’re okay,” Steve cries. He’s squeezing Eddie’s hand so tightly it almost hurts. “You’re gonna be fine, baby, I promise.” He’s leaning over Eddie, his shoulders shaking as he sobs. Eddie reaches up with his other hand. Touches his face. His cheek and lips. Wipes his tears.

“My beautiful boy,” he breathes. He lets his eyes close, and Steve’s hand touches his face, shaking him.

“Eddie!”

“‘M just…” Eddie takes a breath. “‘M just resting my eyes.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

Eddie laughs weakly, coughing, forcing his eyes open to find Steve above him. There’s blood on his face, and Eddie realises his hand has fallen.

“I love you.”

“Don’t do that, Eddie.”

“Just say it back, Stevie. Please.”

Steve chokes, squeezing his eyes shut, and more tears fall down his face, leaving tracks in the dirt and blood on his skin.

“I love you so much,” he says weakly, his voice thin, and Eddie smiles at him. “I love you so much, Eddie, I love you.”

Eddie exhales and drifts. His eyes find them sky above them. It’s dark, and cloudy, and he can’t find the sun anywhere. He wonders if he should have listened to Aunt Laura, if God is really waiting for him. If he should have tried harder. (But he’s tried so hard, he really has. And he’s tired.) But he’s surrounded by the dead bodies of demon bats, and Max might be dead, and he wants to cry because he doesn’t know. If God is real, he isn’t watching them.

The world is darkening, and it smells like ash and blood and his throat is dry, and he’s dying in the arms of the man he loves, somewhere God can’t see.

His eyes close. He can’t open them. Steve is crying.

He wonders if this is death, if he’s stuck in his body, silent and unmoving, forever, but he realises that he’s not dead. He’s still breathing. He knows because it hurts.

He’s barely conscious of his body being moved, lifted, pushed and pulled, of the sound of people around him crying and yelling.

And then the world falls silent.

#i am so sorry #also this one is getting two parts #the next part is steves pov <3 and eddie lives dw #anyway go drink some water and eat something yummy #love u <3 #steddie #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #hideout series

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lesbonym · 3 months ago

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>\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< so rude cause I am blushing like mad but you aren't supposed to know that cause I definitely don't get super flustered over your responses

If you save me riding you for last then it might end up with me laying on your chest with you helping me move my hips up and down, sometimes being horny gives me more stamina but especially if I am subbing I tend to melt into a puddle

>\\\\\\\< I would still really like to pleasure you tho, wanna make my pretty boy feel so good even if you are mean to me (don't apply logic to this, I know that I will beg you to be mean to me cause it's very hot >\\\\<)

Despite turning into a puddle I do have the stamina, there was a bit where I couldn't figure out how to make myself cum (love sex ed classes that don't actually teach anything about sex ed) so I would just keep going until I was ready to stop, so I am used to going for actual hours just being played with if you wanted to keep playing around with me for a while (fun fact, because it took me a while to figure it out now I can't edge myself like at all cause I keep turning my vibe up and putting it right where I like it and then I cum before I even have a chance to think about trying to edge)

Also I am so proud of you for doing good on your assignment!!!!!!!!

I have been working nearly every day the past couple of weeks which is why I have been less active on Tumblr, my body isn't used to working this consistently cause my other job would call me in like 3 or so days a week, I'm still liking my job but until my body builds up more stamina most of my waking hours are spent at work and I take lots of naps when I get home

>\\\\\\\< but I still usually check your posts at night before I go to bed and get all flustered and touch myself before I go to sleep >\\\<

But I'm glad your professor decided to be not stupid about it and let you go online! That's sick!!

(also ignore my stream of conscious going between horny and not horny one paragraph to the next, that's just how it be today)

(No worries, baby! I'll probably just try to organize mine cause mine gets pretty stream of consciousness too. I'll probably answer nsft stuff first and then sft stuff. Sorry if I miss stuff though)

So cute, I know you so well. Just knew you'd be blushing so bad to my response, and it's so cute. My pretty boy has always been so cute since being more yourself in asks.

I'd be more than willing to help you ride me, baby. I'll take such good care of you and coo praises to you for doing so well. Maybe I will be a little mean about how quickly you melted, but I think you'd love that.

My sweet boy wants to make me feel good? How cute. You could barely keep yourself up, and yet you wanna make me feel good. Of course, begging so cutely for me to be mean, too. I'm curious how you'd like to pleasure me, sweet baby?

Poor thing is all pent up, hm? Having to use that pretty head too much at work so you scroll my blog at night to feel good. God, you're so cute.

Yeah, I also had really shifty sex ed classes. Most of them were abstinence-only classes and only taught us parts of the penis cause the vagina was "gross." Most girls in my grade had no clue the urethra and vagina were separate holes and thought they peed through the vagina... it was awful. This was a high school class too. (So many were pregnant by senior year :/)

That sucks that work is keeping you so busy, but I hope you are getting good rest! I'll be okay with you not checking in as often if you're taking care of yourself. But I'll always miss hearing from my pretty boy ;)

I'm very glad that my professor did too. I think he realized most people had no way to get there and also would probably be locked out so it was kinda a hybrid class.

#🦠 anon #emoji anons #emoji anon #lesbian #sapphic #nblw #wlw #anon ask #anon asks #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #nblw nsft

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katyspersonal · 1 year ago

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Soulsborne bingo about Lady Maria!😎

Ohhhh yeah, her!!

I have written plenty of headcanons on her so far, and she was one of the first Bloodborne characters I got invested in - and one of the first characters I've drawn! She is amongst my most elaborate Bloodborne portrayals in terms of headcanons, analysis and story! Fun fact - she is also my second most posted character, after Mico! Not to mention her frequient appearance in my dreams, too? Again, it is a little... odd, how I do not express all that much passion about her, despite having a VERY elaborate map of her in my head. Do you know how sometimes you really care about the character, but for some reason you need an extra stimul to actually bring up your thoughts and feelings? I am like this about her. Unassuming externally, but having a lot of things to say internally! I also would like to link some headcanons about her that I've written for another ask meme for her: ( x ).

Her design is really good, I love everything about it! Her face is so beautiful, and is more unique than you might assume! Her hair is not regular blonde but that paler, 'ashy' color, her eyes are not blue but mint green, her eyebrows are WHITE (Pthumerian blood much? :p) and the circles under her eyes (again - Pthumerian blood much??). And her eyelashes are very notably pale, too:

When I draw her, I always get stuck just looking at her. And her hunter outfit is really great variant of the Knight clothes! Her wearing normal fancy Knight outfit, full of red and gemstones would just not feel the same. More modest yet more elegant look is PERFECT.

There is a lot going on about this character, too. I obsess over the fact that she could not bear the heartbreak after Fishing Hamlet and discarded the hunt as a concept, instead opting out for being a caretaker for the patients. And how she parallels Djura who also quit the hunt! But Djura survived for such a long time, comfortable in his purpose, yet Maria gave up and killed herself. I mean, there is a merit in the cut content idea that Simon ended her life in reality, but I think her suicide works better. (And how much you want to bet it was Adeline's death that was the last straw for Maria?..) She is a knight that was willing to help the humanity and protect it, but ended up losing her own, which is a tragedy consistent for Bloodborne it seems.

I also feel like she did have some weakness, meekness even, to her personality in the end, which is why despite having abandoned her clan and distasting blood she was powerless to protect Adeline from falling into their questionable antics. And chose passive role of caretaker for Church's (questionable!!!) business and keep their secret, despite having regretted ever taking part in the massacre. And could not go on, unlike Djura. She is a strong and stoic person, indeed, and a very skilled warrior, but also there is just... something. You know? She will kill a scary monster without problem, but when it comes to putting up a fight of the character, like resisting an intimidating authority - I feel she can't do that. Not even to protect someone dear, like Adeline. That, or Laurence sucks in people's courage like a black hole, wouldn't put it past the bastard either She will act very decisively in life and death situation on the battlefield, but will be an absolute coward about confessing her feelings or something...? Like unrealised trauma that has been a 'crack' in her soul. But she still would rise up despite it to do what she believed was right. It feels like doing sport despite a physical trauma that might betray you any time, but mentally so.

Alright, you see what I mean? Any attempt to discuss Maria's personality makes me dive into one of the corners of her character. And she has several! I think if I was to write a devoted character analysis for her that is not spread across several posts, it would actually take a few days to put together!

We also can only be sure about her dynamics with Adeline and Gehrman, but there is otherwise a lot of potential for her knowing other characters, too! I love what we got, however! A lot to speculate on, both have good fundament for very elaborate story!

________________

In general, I love her character. You are not from the Western fandom but you will find that some fans will simplify her very unpleasantly. On the one hand, some drooling horny dudes that simply see her as a sexy female knight (that needs a makeover as if she is not attractive enough already...? wtf...). On the other hand, toxic adult babies that think her whole character will crumble and lose appeal if she likes not only women but men too, or if she has not only masculine sides to her character, but feminine ones too. I say, whatever character trait you pick on about her, she is always more than that. Exploring her beyond just being a badass, powerful, skilled hunter expands and complicates her character, but some people will call it "reducing" her because for them being strong and being "feminine" (?) are mutually exclusive traits for some reason. I'd also make a point that the fact she not only discarded the hunt, but her becoming a hunter again as a punishment in literal Hell is a BIG evidence against 'her TRUE self is a mean murderous warrior and Gehrman disrespected it' flex. But you already understand by now that in Western fandoms, based fans are in the trenches every day xD

All in all, Maria is probably the most interesting character in Bloodborne that can offer a lot to think about for everyone. There are always many ways to interpret her none of which is "absolute" and none of which "robs" any demographic off anything. This is what happens when a character is written like a person, and not like a 'statement'! ...and I say all this when she barely has any dialogue, and we as lore people are left to grasp at item descriptions, nonverbal narrative, actions of other characters, Dolls look in relation with Gehrman having feelings so warm it made Doll cry tears of joy, Doll wearing Maria's ribbon shoes and pendant, cut content, their spiritual connection, Cainhurst context......

Thank you for the ask!

#ask replies #bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #bloodborne headcanons #argh! why this meme format makes me so.... mean????#first laurence now this...#i should not be allowed near anything that prompts being bitter about bad fandomry moments!#the punchline is that ya'll think i ever learn to avoid negative stimuls smh my smh

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year ago

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So what I'm hearing is that Netflix planned on holding on for around 6 months, but due to the support from the public and now actors and directors, they might have to give in sooner than they expected?

I mean, basically.

The longest strike was 153 days, which is approximately five months.

You could argue Netflix is willing to hold out for as long as the writers are, which the record shows, is not that long, with the most being five months because people can't survive not being paid for that long.... That's why there is a number that we are able to guess at least roughly speaking.

It's not like a strike can go on for 1-2 years or something. If it did, hypothetically speaking, I would guess entertainment as we know it would never return again. And so I'm just gonna guess (hope) that it won't reach that level of severity...

There’s no way for certain to know what Netflix was thinking going into this. We can speculate based on what they've said leading up to it and based on how they talk about it and dance around the situation now, but for now it’s just a guessing game.

And so don't mind me guessing away.

I'm gonna guess that Netflix was probably optimistic that a lot of people wouldn't be willing to join the strike, bc of how recent COVID delays were and how negatively that impacted a lot of people's lives and income. There's a good chance their assumption was that the majority wouldn't be willing to put themselves through something like that all over again, and so soon.

But I think that they grossly underestimated that our society has changed A LOT since 2007, which is maybe in part what they were basing a lot of their assumptions on. It really doesn't take much these days to bring a bunch of people together and make them inspire change. We've seen entire companies change things because of backlash in a matter of hours. Social media has made this the norm, with it being very difficult in recent years to sweep stuff like this under the rug, expecting to come out of it comfortably. A lot of people are saying that this strike has a lot more support from the public in general than the previous strike did. And not only do you have writers striking, but big names in entertainment striking alongside them (and counting).

What I am intrigued by, is if they thought Stranger Things would continue production, despite the strike? Arguably we know most of s5 was already written, or at least somewhere around the first 5-6 episodes.

If the Duffers were sellouts, ready to cash in, they could have, as the creators themselves, started filming and fixed scripts on their own during the production and said fuck the writers, essentially siding with Netflix. And then by the time those later episodes needed to be filmed, the Duffers could have either written them all by themselves in time or maybe the strike would be over by that point and they would be back in the mix? TBH a lot of fans had this expectation, so I do wonder if Netflix had it too...

What was even on everyones minds leading up to this strike? What was Netflix thinking? What were the Duffer Brother's thinking? What were the ST writers thinking? What were all the key players involved with the show thinking? And were they fully disclosing how they planned to execute their thoughts and decisions, with with one another?

Something I think about, is how leading up to the strike, there was this almost calculated approach to how the writers were doing things...

They knew the strike was coming, and yet they were making an effort to engage with fans consistently, in that month leading up to it, like it was business as usual, with genuine easter eggs and stuff to get fans hyped up like they always do, all with the assumption filming was just around the corner. And since the strike obviously they have been silent, striking.

Because of how they went about it, it almost felt like a last minute choice, but maybe that was their plan? Like maybe that was the whole point?

If they had posted about the strike too soon or gave the impression filming wasn't actually right around the corner, that might have worked against them? Maybe they wanted to give everyone, including Netflix, the impression that filming was starting in June as planned, but then pull the rug under everyone once the strike finally got set in motion?

Because tbh the Duffers joining in on the strike is one of the biggest power moves of all of the power moves going on out there. ALL of them. Netflix is believed to be who is going to hold this strike out more than any other streamer/network.....

And so, technically speaking, seeing as ST5, Netflix's biggest show of all time, cannot start filming until this strike is over... Something's gotta give.

It’s crazy to think, but the second that the strike ends, filming for s5 is going to start getting set up and started. Netflix themselves are putting off the filming of their show rn, not the writers asking for fair wages. Why would we want writers being underpaid to write our shows, while the CEO's are making hundreds of millions...? Why in the hell would Netflix want to force the writers to settle for a horrible deal in the end, only to have them return to work saying HEY welcome back sorry about that. The animosity, the whole vibe would be awful. Out of everyone, least of all the writers don't want to have to go back to work feeling defeated and wronged, only to be expected to create their best work to date. They're all out here doing what they're doing because they love it and now their standing up to say they want to be properly compensated for all that work and dedication. It's not asking that much and that's the reality of the situation. Netflix needs to face that reality before they lose the trust of their entire work force and user base.

There's another aspect to this I want to guess, and it sort of pisses me off, but I'm going to say it anyways because I had thought about it a while back.

I made claims over these last few months, that I thought it would take between 10-12 months to film ST5 (for in-demand actors schedule conflict reasons) and with another 7 months at least for post production. This assumption put s5 at a late fall 2024 release or an early spring 2025 release.

One main concern I had back then, but didn't really talk about, was how even though a March 2025 release seemed like plenty of time, that because Netflix is known for their love of ST seasons releasing in the summer, what if they held off to do just that?.

Netflix is convinced summer it's when ST will get the most views. They have a whole thing about it. And so, I worried that even though the math added up to March 2025, even as a worst case scenario, that for some reason, we could end up getting it in summer 2025.

Another reason why I think Netflix would want a summer 2025 release as opposed to a fall 2024 or a spring 2025, is because the longer ST stays on their platform with this hype for it with a new season still coming, the better.

Once Stranger Things is gone, there are just so many unknowns for Netflix...

While I doubt they're so unreasonable as to wait it out until Summer 2026 (I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt here), I wouldn't be surprised if one factor for why they are okay with waiting this strike out for a good 3-4 months at least, is because then they'll be able to have the excuse to release ST5 in summer 2025, despite all the complaints from consumers saying its too long of a wait, with the excuse being, well the strike happened and that's just the way it is.

And so yeah having this thought recently sort of pissed me off. Just because I think they would benefit a lot from a Summer 2025 release vs. anything earlier than that, along with them preferring their summer releases.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think this is their only reason for doing what they're doing by all means. However, if ST is a big concern and deciding factor for them regardless (it is), then they are arguably thinking about the worst and best case scenarios, and ST5 Summer 2025 probably doesn't sound all that bad to them...

Filming for ST5 would need to start in about 5ish months from now, for them to have a comfortable Summer 2025 release, imo. This is how I feel right now based on my assumptions on how long filming and post-production will take, being about 16-19 months overall.

BUT again I think that them holding out too long is not looking good for their brand which is already really at risk as it is.

It's hard to have aesthetic luncheons with investors and advertisers and new talent hoping to join the happy family, when there's all this negative press surrounding them, making people think twice before wanting to associate with them.

I would say now, more than ever before, I am pretty cautiously optimistic.

If the writers and the actors AND even directors were to go on strike, all at once, that's not exactly heard of. As far as I know that's never happened in our history. Hell even if it's just the writers and the actors, who are the directors going to direct exactly??!??

I do wonder how far they're going to be willing to take this.

It's just pennies for them to resolve this, like it could literally be resolved with the person at the top saying just get it done with and we'd be on our way.

But they're greedy about short term gains and they also want to create an environment of having their employees fear risking losing it all, having no choice but to accept the bare minimum, than for them to feel the courage to actually stand up at the risk of losing it all.

It's going to be an interesting next few weeks and potentially months, depending on how the next few weeks go down...

Again, cautiously optimistic!

#byler #stranger things #st writers strike #st writers #duffer brothers

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sylvie-fics · 2 years ago

Text

The MH Vik fic chapter that has smut

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word count: 5.6K

Rating: M, minors dni

Warnings: Nsfw, afab and fem identifying reader, attempted murder.

Authors note: Thank you to everyone who helped me get through this chapter. Thank you to everyone who thinks my fanfics are worth reading. Thank you to everyone who catches the cats the musical reference hidden somewhere in this fic.

The past couple of days have been less than ideal for both of you. Between answering the door for angry business-owners whose walls were destroyed and burning the daily letters from your former “investor” Jayce Talis, you hadn’t had much time to talk with Viktor. Of course, talk–meaning yell at him while helplessly pounding your fist on the kitchen table.

“Look, I can tell you’re upset.”

Upset couldn’t begin to describe your emotional state. You were raging, fuming, head-down sobbing onto the tablecloth. The new tablecloth– which he had still not realized was there.

For only a moment, you raised your head up to look at him. He seems… mildly concerned. Though, with his monotonous voice and stoic mask, it’s never easy to read into how he’s feeling.

“Upset? Oh– I’m losing my mind. What the hell do you expect me to do, Viktor?”

Viktor has never been great at communication, especially when it involves emotional labor. In his mind, not being required to fuck your investors was a fairly good deal. A great deal, even. In fact, Viktor was rather astounded that you had to do that to begin with. Despite your obviously useless ideas, you had quite a knack for design. Surely there was a non-sexual job market for that.

“Think of it like a job, all you have to do is work on your ideas, and then–”

You cut him off, nearly scream sobbing, “Are you serious right now!? Job?! Like–Consistent working?! I can’t fucking believe you. Who am I supposed to fuck for money now?”

“No, that's the point (Y/N), you don’t have to.”

It was at that point you threw your head back down onto the table, resuming your fist fight with it.

“Ack. I’m gonna grow my virginity back.”

He would tell you ‘(Y/N) that's not how that works’, but he was certain you already knew. Instead, he opted to reach into a drawer, and then slide a pot holder under your hand. The pounding was a bit quieter, at least.

Funny… he doesn't remember buying one of those.

Viktor found you to be unpredictable. Having known you for this long, he feels it would only be natural to have gained a deeper understanding of your inner workings. In the same sense one might know a friend's fears, or recognize their patterns of behavior. You… you were a special case. No matter how much he observed you, he had yet to understand your thought process– much less what goes on in your mind. Perhaps this lack of consistency was why he found you so… amusing.

“(Y/N), have you considered taking this as an opportunity to —”

“Don’t even try to give me advice right now!” You yelled, once again interrupting him.

“I don’t know what else you want me to do here.”

Viktor understands lobotomies have been unsuccessful in the past. He understands the moral implications of doing such a procedure. Sometimes, though. Sometimes he is willing to cast morals aside if it benefits the greater good. Could a lobotomy advance humankind, rather than setting it back? In most cases– no. Once again, he remembers you are a special case.

“… And I hope it’s so expired that it ruins the rest of your human body, and all those metal pieces too. Yeah. Doesn’t feel so good when it's you, huh?”

He’s sure whatever you’re ranting on about has something to do with how upset you are, and how you’re going to commit a violent act, and how you hope this affects him. He’s blocked it out– he’s been blocking out those rants for quite a time now.

“Uh-huh. (Y/N), you’re not a very logical person. The only reason you're here is because I find your stupidity so astoundingly entertaining that I’m willing to pay for your company. I’m well aware you won’t create anything of value, and if anything will waste time, money, and resources. You are perhaps the most useless creature I’ve had the misfortune of discovering. I am maybe 5 minutes away from welding your mouth shut. Stop complaining, shut the hell up, and go make your stupid bird outfits.”

Viktor finds you to be unpredictable. No matter how much he observed you, he had yet to understand your thought process. He did not understand why you were upset to begin with, but he especially does not understand why saying that as loud and angrily as he did made you look… like that. Red cheeks, red ears, and eyes that look almost longingly. It doesn’t make sense. He could maybe pass it off as you being embarrassed or upset.

Still, your eyes told a different story. Those weren’t embarrassed eyes that look away, refusing to meet the other person. Nor were they tear-filled eyes of sorrow. It was piercing, like you could see through the mask. Letting him know–no– reminding him that he was vulnerable. He doesn’t understand how eyes could show that. He doesn’t understand how that could make him feel… something.

You terrify him.

Things seemed to go better after that. While Viktor was still doubtful that bird eyewear would go anywhere, he had to admit you worked pretty damn hard on it. He’d always been told he was a workaholic, that he hyperfocused on his projects. Alas, it seems he had met his match.

He hadn’t really been keeping track of time. Minutes, hours, days. All he knew was that the two of you had been sitting back-to-back across the room from each other in his lab for a while. He may have seen the sun come and go a couple of times. Occasionally there was the sound of a pencil sharpening, paper crumpling, or an angry sigh.

But then… there was the sound of the pencil slamming against the table, the chair moving away from the table, and approaching footsteps.

“Ahah! Bird eyewear!”

It was a horrifying scene. Your face was contorted into some sort of sick smile, your eyes wide and bloodshot. Your entire body was shaking ever-so-slightly as you held the paper in front of Viktor. Your head snapped to the side, crazed laughter escaping from you uncontrollably.

“Tell me what you think, Viktor! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!”

He’s not sure critique is the way to go here. He just needs to remember how compliments work.

“The design is very human.” He states, factually.

“Human?” you ask quietly. “HUMAN?!” you yell frantically.

Viktor became rapidly aware that this was not the correct answer. Part of him has to wonder if this is what he looked like to others back in the day. Within a split second, you had grabbed onto his shoulders, and slammed your forehead against his mask. Presumably, you were attempting to shake him back and forth.

“HUMANITY means SUFFERING Viktor! SUFFERING! HUMANITY IS ONLY ABOUT SUFFERING. AHAH.”

You let go of him, only to rapidly tear apart your most recent design like a feral animal. Then turning, making it about three feet to your station before passing out and hitting the ground.

Viktor was in a daze. It’s just something about the way you grabbed him. The way your face was so close. The way you screamed about humanity and suffering. He’d never agreed with you so intensely before. In fact, he had rarely ever agreed with you on anything prior to this. The moment kept replaying in his head. Grab, come close, reject humanity. It made him feel something… different.

He wasn’t entirely proud of himself for leaving you on the floor. Still, he couldn’t be in there any longer. He was out the door and down the street in moments, repeating aloud to himself a personal mantra.

“Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think, don't think, don't think.”

It's all he could think about. The more he thought about it, the more it evolved– altering into a different situation entirely. The way you gently held him, kissed him, and offered to reject humanity with him. No, that's not right. You straddled him, ran your hands through his hair, and offered to reject humanity with him. No. you handed him a marriage certifi—

“Sir? Sir? Can I help you?… sir?”

Being a shopkeeper in a place with an already collapsing economy is difficult. Being a shopkeeper with extremely difficult customers who sometimes put holes in your walls? Awful. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’ shopkeeper asks himself day and night. ‘Is life so meaningless for me that I become a nameless character in the story of two insane people who consistently ruin my life?’.

Viktor had been standing at the front counter of that shop for a few minutes now, still repeating the occasional “Don’t think about it.”

‘Was this all my fault?’ the shopkeeper continues to ponder, still trying to nudge the giant cyborg man back into reality. ‘Could I have avoided all this by giving that blue orb to the idiot girl?’

Viktor, having momentarily regained his grip on reality, responded with a solemn, “I’m beyond help, aren't I?” To which he then left, still muttering his mantra.

“Everyone in this town is fucking crazy…” sighed the shopkeeper.

Things seemed to be tense after that. Viktor was sure his very… physical… reaction to that incident could be explained by a combined lack of sleep from the two of you. Still, he found that feeling persisting. In most cases, this feeling seemed to come to the forefront of his mind at completely awful times.

Having these feelings is not ideal. It’s distracting.

It seems like anything will send him out to town these days. So you think, anyway. One moment you’re talking to him, and the next he's gone– making up some excuse about needing some part or another. You don’t mind, It’s really been rather helpful. You send him a list of things you need around the house, and he's usually back within an hour or two. Still, you don’t understand what he’s been so antsy about.

Oh, what’s that phrase? Zaun is the firework stand of gossip.

Over a period of weeks, Viktor has been seen walking frantically up and down the streets whilst muttering to himself. No one has seen (Y/N). Word around the street is that she rejected him, and he went psycho. Some even speculate that she’s dead.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.”

On that day in particular, he was not thinking about what you did in the lab today. How you couldn’t reach a tool that was on the other side of the table, and, rather than walking to the other side, you bent yourself over the table. He was not thinking about this. He simply was not.

But, if by some chance he was… he definitely was not altering the situation in his mind. Bending you over the table and holding your head down. Pressing into you, leaning over to whisper in your ear about who you belonged to.

The bell chimed.

“Sir, please, go have your crisis anywhere else. I’m trying to run a business here.”

The day after, he was not thinking about how you stood next to him– in between him and a wall. And you had said something about being bored and wanting to go ‘hang out’ somewhere ‘fun’. He told you he had to work– that you should go repaint another room or something.

But he was especially not thinking of how you ruffled his hair and called him boring. Furthermore, he definitely did not alter the situation to where you ran your hands through his hair and called him ‘boyfriend’. And how after that he slammed you against the wall and kissed all up and down your body while you called out his name over and over.

Oh, or the day after that when he wasn't thinking about how you fell asleep in the lab. You’d woken up while he was carrying you to bed, and said something about joining you. He responded that he was busy, but after he laid you down on the bed he stood in the doorway and… hesitated.

He couldn’t sleep that night. Nor did any work get done.

There came a day was different. You’d taken it upon yourself to go out and about after hearing the rumors of your untimely death, leaving Viktor to his own devices. This, of course, being a terrible idea.

He couldn’t stand it– having these feelings. He didn't understand what these feelings were. He didn’t understand why they only showed up when you started barging into his life. He’s been suffering with these…urges… for months, and they’d only gotten stronger. How is it one could go from being content in their solitude to suffering no matter the situation.

Yes… the only explanation was that you had an arcane ability, and used it to curse your victims with these awful feelings.

“But.. where is the evidence that she could possibly do that?” he sighed, completely oblivious to the door opening, and you walking in. “Perhaps if I simply castrate myself, I’ll never have to feel this emotion again.”

…

The room went silent for what seemed like hours. Viktor, unfortunately, became acutely aware of your presence in the room. Standing in front of the door, mouth in a straight line, clearly struggling to comprehend what you’d just walked in on.

“Do you wanna talk about this, Viktor?”

“Nope.” He said, attempting to push past you.

You blocked his exit.

“Hey– no– you’re not gonna hurt yourself, right? Life gets hard, but is castration really the answer here?”

“Move.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little extreme.”

He very easily could have overpowered you, just pushed past you and walked out. For whatever reason, though, he didn’t. He let you drag him to your workspace, while you said some nonsense about wanting to keep an eye on him for ‘safety’.

Bird eyewear is revolutionary. That's what you think, anyways. You're positive others will think the same once you show them this prototype. Your assistant seems to be a bit zoned out over there, but occasionally he listens to your commands. Pass the wrench, pass the screwdriver. So far, nothing he’s handed you has been the right tool– but that's alright. Progress is, in fact, being made. Kinda.

Viktor wishes he was dead right now. But then again– he thinks–you have the attention span of a fish, you’ve probably already forgotten about the conversation. He thinks you’re asking him to hand you things, but he’s not really sure.

In his head, he is creating a series of scenarios, and ranking them by likelihood of succeeding. Theories, if you will.

You once again ask him for the screwdriver.

He reaches over, grabs nothing, and then places his hand on yours.

This is not a screwdriver.

“You know, Viktor, I do worry about you.”

Maybe he could suppress his feelings even further, and eventually phase them out completely. Yes. This is a great idea. What are the complications here? Well– though he won’t admit it to himself, Viktor can be a bit possessive. Occasionally a bit jealous. What happens when you start going out and about with someone? Easy kill– unless you start seeing another Jayce Talis.

Oh, he hated Jayce Talis. Despised him.

“Hey. Viktor? Vik? You’re really squeezing my hand here.”

It’s not that he minds your former occupation. What he does mind is your number one so-called ‘investor’. He’s sure Talis was the one who convinced you that was the industry standard. Who knows how many people he did that to? Then, the audacity to show up and try to whisk you away like... Like he just thought he could do that?! Expected you to have no complaints, to just blindly follow.

“Viktoooor? Viiiiiiktor? Are you just ignoring me?”

But, what if one day you gained common sense? What does he do then? How can he reasonably expect to live up to expectations of someone who lives a humanly feasible lifestyle. No– you wouldn’t. You rejected humanity over bird eyewear not that long ago. You’re past the point of returning to ‘sane’. You might be better at hiding it to the general public, though.

“Dammit. Did you have some wire malfunction or something? Did you shut down? Am I gonna have to Mary Shelley you back to life? Remember? Mary Shelley? Anything? Vik?”

It’s not like he can stop you, he doesn’t want to take away your freedom. Maybe he could just… work on your critical thinking skills. Not standing outside in storms. That's a good starting point. Oh, but why does he even care? Why does it matter to him if you live or die? Why does it matter if you go out with other guys? Why does he find himself carrying you to bed when you’re passed out at a desk? Why does he imagine all these situations with you?

There you were, sitting beside him. Despite all the horrible things you must have heard about him, you still treated him like just another person. You don’t look at him with an air of fear or pity. How is it that he could go his entire life judged by the world with preconceived notions, and you just… ignored that?

Your eyes– how vulnerable they make him feel.

“This isn’t like you to–”

“Get out of my head.”

It was aggressive. You could barely squeak out a “huh?” before he’d pulled you closer to him, his grip on you tightening. You’re close to him. Extremely close.

Again, louder, more stern.

“Get out of my head!”

You hear it– the fear in his voice. He may pretend to be fighting with you, but he’s just fighting with himself. His voice is growing more and more distressed, the pacing increasingly frantic.

“What have you done to me? What curse have you put on me? I was so content, so productive before this. Before you. And now you infiltrate my mind with your strange words and food and decorations. Why? Why are you doing this?”

You’ve seen him reject his emotions for a long time. The way he pulls himself back from physical contact, or walks out the door from intrusive thoughts. You can’t help but wonder if he wants to suppress uncomfortable feelings– or if he just hates that those feelings are for you. Does he think lowly of you? Are you not worthy of those feelings?

“What is it that you want from me, Viktor?”

You couldn’t look at him. Something in you knew the answer. Something in you feared the answer.

“Just

…

you.”

How badly you wished you could hide behind a wall of your flirtatious quips. Been able to throw out a smooth line about love, or friends, or… anything. Confidence was your facade, the lie that kept you afloat. But in this moment of vulnerability, all you could feel was fear. Scared that someone could see you in conditions so true to yourself, and not be revolted. If only you knew… he felt the exact same.

“You already have me… but, you know that, don’t you Viktor?”

“Having and keeping, they’re two different things.”

Wasn’t love for the girls who lived reasonable lives? Who spoke kindly, and held themselves to high standards. The girls who made it out, living a life that would never make it in the history books.

“Then keep me.” you trailed off, your voice nearly inaudible, “There doesn’t have to be feelings involved… if that's what you want. Would that be better?”

He’s tense– you can see it in the way his shoulders are raised, his hands creating fists. Wouldn’t most men be happy to hear that? No feelings–no complications. It makes it easy to move on when they find those girls who made it out. Who are perfectly content to be dull housewives. Who are happy to live an unfulfilling life.

Viktor wouldn't want someone like that though… would he?

“Are feelings usually involved?”

“No, not for me. Not normally.”

Something is off, and he knows it. You aren’t yelling, or laughing, or making a life-or-death choice out of sheer spite and amusement. No. You were looking away, audibly breathing. If he looked close enough, he would notice how you shook ever so slightly. What were you trying to hide?

“Is this— like normal.”

“…”

Gently, he takes free hand, reaching it to the side of your face and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“(Y/n). Is this like normal?”

“...”

“Y/n”

“...”

“Please, just say something.”

“Things would be a lot easier that way. If it was… like normal.”

You’d tried so hard to hold back, but he sees the tears that fall down your face, hears the stressed laugh that escapes from your mouth. He can’t stand seeing you like this. He can’t stand that he was the one who made you like this.

Fear. Looking at you so despondent, wondering how many more poorly timed confessions he is from never seeing you again. It’s not like normal. Normal is walking down the street alone, working late nights alone, eating alone, sleeping alone. How quickly he’d forgotten all about that sense of normalcy. How much easier it would be if things were normal. How hard it would be to go back to normal now.

Viktor, he thinks, you’ve really gotten yourself into it this time.

His iron grip on your arm loosens, giving you a spare moment to wipe away your tears. When was the last time you cried over a guy? Shameful, the way you let yourself get to this point– daydreaming about a love that was never meant for you.

Between your sniffling and thoughts, you hadn’t paid any mind to the clinking sound of something being placed on the table. Or the arm that wrapped around your back. The hand that cupped your cheek.

His lips were so… soft.

Maybe, Maybe love could be this. Two inventors, working their lives away on inventions that might not outlive them. One, amalgamating himself into the cyborg-like creature he is. The other… well… doing whatever it is you do.

And right now, you were kissing him.

You were kissing Viktor?

It had happened so fast, far too quick for you to process initially. Though, once you did, you had no problem reciprocating– wrapping your arms around his neck and running a hand into his hair. You felt burning hot. Could it be the way he was deepening the kiss, pushing you back as he leaned further into you? His deep humming of contentedness as you complied with his need for affection. Or– perhaps it was the deadly laser beams firing from the hexclaw on his shoulder.

He pulls away, muttering a quick “sorry” before quickly undoing the pauldron holding the claw, and carelessly throwing it on the floor.

It was dark, only the dingy light of a nearby lamp to illuminate the lab. Despite this, you couldn't help but notice how his honey eyes seemed to glow. What a shame, to hide such a beautiful face behind a mask.

“Oh, Viktor…” you trailed off, enamored with the sight before you.

“Hm?”

“You do have a face!”

The two of you shared a short laugh–this time not of nervousness, but relief. Now that the fear of rejection had been completely thrown away, there wasn’t much to stop either of you. Viktor was hasty to stand up, grabbing and throwing you onto the worktable. He had tasted happiness for the first time, and now he needed more. As much as he could get. As much as you would give him.

In between the kisses he planted across your face, moving down to your neck, he sarcastically pointed out that the two of you had been over that so many times.

You couldn’t help but squirm as he began to get rougher with you. Hands on either side of your hips held you in place as his kisses became love bites. You’d be horribly bruised tomorrow if he kept this up. Of course, he had no intention of stopping. If anything, this was an assertion of dominance– showing everyone else who you belonged to.

Your breathy fuck was a command, one he was more than happy to oblige to. He pushed between your legs, allowing himself to grind against you as you sighed in frustration. God, you really need some relief, and soon.

His arms traveled up your hips, over your stomach, and to your arms– lifting them above your head. The way he towered over you was… exciting.

This was the first time in a long time he’d been so overtaken with emotion, and with no way to stop it. Each little lewd noise you made only encouraged him to keep going. His body rutted against yours, a sort of primal urge controlling his erotic movements.

He leaned over, pushing harder against you as he half-whispered into your ear.

“You don’t get to leave after this, (Y/N). If you ever find someone you consider more suitable, I will make sure they have a slow, tortuous death. I’ll tie you down and make you remember who you belong to. You know who you belong to. Say it.”

“Mmph- All yours, Viktor.”

That was all he needed. Viktor backed off of you, working away at what he could take off, throwing a look that implied for you to do the same.

“How do you want me?” you asked, pulling off your shirt.

“Just as you are.”

“Want me to make you feel good?”

“You already do.”

Obviously, you’re not going to get anywhere with this conversation.

“... yeah, I’m gonna suck your dick.”

He was a bit taken aback— but not complaining. He was sure by this point you’d realized that he was totally lost. It’s a bit easier to feign experience when you’re fully clothed and only engaging in sensual kissing. Not that he was particularly well versed in that field either…

He just hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was staring at your exposed chest.

You’re pretty damn sure this is the first pair of tits this man has seen in his life the way he’s looking at you. And, if that’s the case— then you were also certain the previous 10 minutes of pillow talk were all bark and no bite. This man’s a virgin, and he has no idea where to go from here.

You’re in control now.

Back in the days, you knew there were a couple universal truths when it came to sex. Egotistical men can only finish once. They talk themselves up, pretend they know what they're doing, and then completely disappoint you. Been there, seen it, done that.

You positioned yourself on your knees, reaching up to tie your hair back.

Virgin boys finish quick. They can’t help it– it's a learning experience. You tend to have more sympathy towards that. Usually, they’re pretty open and honest about it.

“Alright, let me see what i'm working with…”

But above and beyond, there's still one thing left over– and that is the thing that you never will guess. The thing that no human research could discover, but the slut herself knows, and will never confess.

“Ahah. Hey Viktor. What the fuck.”

Tall and scrawny guys. They’re easy to underestimate. From an outside view, one might think them average in every way. Every tall and scrawny boy, though, has a secret. What they lack in muscle, they make up for elsewhere.

The more he revealed, the more it became increasingly clear– Viktor was tall and scrawny.

Intimidatingly tall and scrawny.

Viktor worries he’s fucked up. You were rather seductive just a moment ago. Now, you’re on the floor making the world's most straight-lined face, eyes wide with an emotion he can’t quite decipher. He’s not sure what average is, maybe this was small? Maybe you were having second thoughts? He was already worried he’d disappoint you with his lack of experience, but now he’s going to disappoint you with a small dick too?

You seem to come to your senses after a moment, a sort of determined aura radiating off of you. It’s go time.

The instant you makes contact with it, he has to hold himself back. This new sensation in combination with the way you look up at him is nearly too much. You’re grazing your tongue along the underside with an intimate slowness, making sure not to overwhelm him upfront. You pull back only for a moment– placing a light kiss atop the tip. A string of precum jolts from him, which you lick from your lips. How curious, it tastes rather sweet.

A stunned “a-ah” sounds from this tower of a man– his hands looking for anything to hold on to, eventually finding a place on your head.

You place your mouth on him slightly, looking up for permission to continue. In response, him pushing you further onto his length. It was experimental. Starting slow, then with swiveling movements, then with tongue. Pick up the pace, repeat. You were surprised with how well he was holding up. Though, his sounds indicated a nearing climax.

He’s loud. Extremely loud. Loud enough that you’re sure everyone living in Emberflit Alley can hear him gasping for air and crying out. By tomorrow morning, the rumors will be flipped around. (Y/N) finally went crazy and killed Viktor– all those bruises were signs of a struggle, he didn't go down without a fight.

You're pushed off of him and onto the floor, a trail of his release streaming from your mouth to your stomach as you fall. Seeing you there, covered with him, completely submissive to him… it gives him a second wind.

Before you can process your fall, you're raised in the air again. Your back is against a wall, but you’re not quite standing. He’s holding you up, one hand gripped tight around your neck, the other supporting your waist.

“More…” he growls.

Who are you to deny? If it’s more he wants, it’s more he gets.

Adrenaline is coursing through his body. He uses his leg to part yours, placing himself at your entrance. He notices the way you adjust, making yourself easily ready for him. Fuck is the only thought he can manage.

Tomorrow, he can look back and regret this. But today, he can fuck you senseless.

You’re a bit more quiet than he is– but not silent. As he pushes himself in, he relishes in the melody that is your ‘hmmms’ and ‘mmphs’. Something about it only makes him more exhilarated. Sure, he had enjoyed when you were working on him– fuck, though, making you feel good was so much better.

He's pumping into you aggressively, taking delight in the way your nails grip into him. He’s sure you're drawing blood, he can feel it– but that doesn’t matter to him. The harder he fucks you, the more he can drill it into you– you belong to him, and him alone.

“Say it. Tell me who owns you.”

“Ah- you,” you choke out, “You, Viktor.”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head– you might pass out at this rate.

“Again.”

“Only you, viktor. Fuck. No one else matters.”

And with one final thrust, he pushes himself deep inside you– locking eyes as his warmth fills your stomach. He stares for quite a while after, making sure to memorize every detail of you. Memorizing what you look like absolutely ruined by him.

“No one else matters.” he reinforces.

The world began to fade, your vision going black. Yes, this is what it feels like to die. Choked by a metal amalgamation, combined with 8 inches of internal impalement. Dying was so wonderful, so peaceful. Unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Or– maybe that was just an orgasm.

Vik, you did so great. I'm so proud of you, I think I’m really in love with you.

“Viksogudsproloyou”

“Eh?”

“Vproulov”

“O–okay?”

Dammit, he’s fucked out your final brain cell. No matter how many times he asks for clarification, you only respond with a sad attempt at a sentence. Viktor isn’t sure what to do. Meanwhile, you’re pissed as hell that this man can’t accept a compliment– you swear it's like he can't hear you.

With all the strength you can muster, you slap him across the face.

Viktor notices your arm raise about three inches in the air and then fall again. He’s confused on what you're attempting to accomplish there.

“(Y/N)?”

“Fuckyou”

“You did. Lets… I think you should go to bed.”

The rest of the night was a haze to you. You can remember groaning in pain as he pulled out. Then, you can remember yelling at him for throwing you in water much too cold for your liking. Kept saying something about “stop trying to drown yourself” every time you tried to take a nice, peaceful nap. He attempted to feed you… something? Whatever it was, it wasn’t very good. Too burnt.

As morning approached, you remembered those things in bits and pieces, slowly regaining your consciousness.

You remembered getting fucked out of your mind. You remembered a confession or two. What you did not remember… was who was laying beside you.

Viktor awoke to your shrill scream, followed by a pillow smothering him. You weren’t particularly strong, but you caught him off guard. He wasn’t expecting a murder attempt so early in the day.

He was able to grab your wrists, throwing you off of him and onto your back.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, panic clear in your voice.

“(Y/N) you know me! Viktor! Stop trying to kill me woman!”

You seemed to calm down after that, a silly grin returning to your face as you sleepily responded,

“Viktor? Oh, you have such a cute face.”

Then snuggled back up to him, and immediately falling asleep.

Viktor, on the other hand, stayed up for hours after this– preparing for your next attack.

You really do terrify him.

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