#i'm just screaming under the readmore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosanna-writer · 5 months

Text

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

#feysand #acotar secret santa #Love at First Sight's For Suckers

107 notes · View notes

thetidemice · 3 months

Note

Do ya ever think about Andy and Annie's dance during "Rag Dolly" and feel like watching that specific scene on loop AND sorta feeling like doing their little dance with someone at the same time 'cause hhhhh I love it and those sibs a bunch, it's just the somftest and adorablest dance to a likewise comfy song made more so by Andy's singing and I get a genuine burst of serotonin revisiting it (and lowkey that scene/song alone was what got me to watch the musical for the first time a couple years back :> if ya also have knowledge on who animated their dance or any part of Rag Dolly for that matter that'd be cool to learn about too! but I understand if that might end up being a lot to share :0)

AAAH i love love love that sequence so much!! its the cutest dance it has so much character and Andy's voice becoming so gentle and sweet right after singing No Girl's Toy is just the best thing ever. he doesn't even like Babette he's just helping his sister make a good impression.

analysis under the readmore:

what's crazy is looking through this whole book - i'm talking about The Animated Raggedy Ann & Andy - An Intimate Look at the Art of Animation Its History, Techniques, and Artists by John Canemaker (the linked version has no pictures D-:) - Rag Dolly isn't really mentioned that much, despite being essentially the main theme music.

i would love to tell you more for a fact, but i just can't say for sure who animated it, as a lot of scenes aren't credited individually.

for some songs, like Richard Williams doing No Girl's Toy, Tissa David doing Candy Hearts, Art Babbitt doing Blue, and Emery Hawkins doing Never Get Enough, the artists get a section dedicated to them and the main chunk of animation work they contributed. in the credits of the film, Art Babbitt animates the Camel, Emery Hawkins animates the Greedy, etc etc - they were generally in charge of those character-centric scenes, along with a team of inbetweeners, painters, etc.

there isn't one for Rag Dolly, since it's relatively short and bounces between characters. so basically TAKE ALL OF THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT!!!

the ONLY expertise i have is that 1. ive flipped thru john canemaker's book and 2. i love this movie so much

what i CAN do is make wild guesses ^_^ and this first little verse as Ann fidgets with her dress and apron just SCREAMS Tissa David to me. here's a pose from that sequence side-by-side with one of her famous (and one of my favourite) Raggedy Ann drawings.

here's something she notes about Ann's first action sequence of falling off the chair (she was set to work on candy hearts before anything else, to really get to know the characters):

and here's a fantastically convenient gifset from Rag Dolly. EVERYTHING!!! her hair falling in her face, the movement of the fabric, the wonderful sense of timing. also note the lack of eyelashes, which isnt exclusive to one artist or anything, but does pop up in David's drawings:

now to go on a tangent about an artist who could well have worked on that scene, and whom i wish there was some more info about!!!

"The only thing that Disney never understood is that to animate girls, one must be a girl!" - Tissa David believed (along with pretty much the rest of the team) that herself and Chrystal Russell (whose work is woefully sparse in the book but very much present in the movie) were the best animators of 'little Annie'. she also worked on Fern Gully; you can find her credits under her married name, Chrystal Klabunde! she supported Tissa as the primary actor for Raggedy Ann, and her style appears as this distinctive, adorable, muppet-y look throughout the film. these pics are examples of, if not her own drawings, then her stylistic influence in these scenes:

she's credited as animating the playroom dolls, but you can notice her influence in Annie come through from the beginning ('I Look, and What Do I See?') to the end ('Home') of the whole thing. like i said, the credits are never too specific, but if i had to GUESS, then this looks like her stuff. we also know for a fact she worked on the first song because of this lovely set of drawings in the book!

here's the sweetest photo of Didi Conn (Ann's voice) and Chrystal together with some clean-up sheets of a shot right before Rag Dolly - when Ann introduces herself to Babette, 'my name is Raggedy Ann, and this is my brother, Raggedy Andy,' (i still can't confirm whether they're her drawings but i wouldn't be surprised!):

anyway tl;dr: i have no way of knowing for sure who was in charge of it, and no doubt a whole team of artists were involved, (and i'm in no way trying to discredit anyone if i'm wrong) but my best guess is you can thank Tissa David for the first part, and Chrystal Russell (now Chrystal Klabunde) for their dance together - the animation changes subtley between those shots. i wish i had more artists/resources to look at, or god forbid a full breakdown of that scene, but at this point i would bet money on David's part in Annie's little introduction.

also some final appreciation for this silly slide to the ground that Andy finishes with:

anyway i'm SO sorry for going on such a long rant in response to this lovely ask!! and i'm sorry it took so long! it took so long, in fact, that i was actually accepted into university halfway through writing it the other day! so thank you!

i had so much fun playing amateur detective so double thank you!!! again i'm probably wrong about ALL of this but it was a blast to reread sections of the book and rewatch different bits of the movie to sleuth around for clues. i hope whatever i have come up with is of some interest to you, and i hope someone learned something about the wonderful artists behind this movie :-D

chrystal and raggedy ann ^_^

#raggedy ann #i may be crazy! i may be crazy!#ask #raggedy ann & andy: a musical adventure #tissa david #chrystal russell #john canemaker #animation #art

44 notes · View notes

inkblackorchid · 10 months

Text

I was gonna try to keep my mouth shut, but I can't. I just can't. I have to go on another Aki rant because I feel like I'm going to explode. It's about this scene:

This drives me insane and I'm putting this under a readmore. Expect incoherent screaming, all ye who enter here.

Ok. Ok. I have so many issues with this scene. Specifically, with the way it develops later, when Aki's busy trying to figure out how to save a child from being swept up by a storm:

And I just. Look, I think the fact that I already wrote a fic that basically completely turns Aki's reaction here on its head should basically tell you everything. But! But. Allow me to defend why I think this whole scene is one big heap of horseshit, with a bit of analysis of canon and actual evidence to back up my claims and shit.

The thing is, I have seen people give this scene a charitable read. I've seen people be happy for Aki to enjoy freedom from the psychic powers that have given her so much trouble in her life. And the thing is, if this were season one or season two Aki, I would be completely on board with that take. Unfortunately, this scene is preceded by the pre-WRGP arc. But more on that below.

Moreover, I can make an educated guess about what they were going for here (in terms of messaging, because this is a kids' show at the end of the day and messaging is something you have to be properly concerned with when it comes to these). I can imagine it running somewhere along the lines of "you don't need special powers to be a hero". Or even "you can grow past the hurt and/or the mistakes in your life and still become a good person or even a hero". And really, I wish I could believe that take. It's just. The writing simply doesn't add up. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

This is where we get back to the pre-WRGP arc. And not just that, actually, but the timeskip between the dark signers and pre-WRGP arc, too. Because the thing is, the last time we have seen Aki in anguish about her powers on-screen by the time the episodes above (108-109) arrive was during the DS arc, during the duel with her father, which happened during episodes 40-41. 40. to. 41. This was over sixty episodes ago at this point. And after that, that's it. As far as the DS arc is concerned, Aki's conflict about her powers is resolved the second she controls them for the first time when her father tries to interfere in her second duel against Yusei.

(Yeah, remember this moment? That was literally the last time we saw Aki in conflict with her powers.)

And I know some people would argue "but what about the dark signer duel with Misty?". And yes, I get it. Misty does accuse her of having murdered her brother with her powers and Aki gets incredibly (understandably) upset about it. But the thing is, we know that's fake, and during the duel, Aki knows that, too. She goes as far as insisting that there were no casualties at the duel where Misty thinks Toby died.

(Yes, I have screenshot proof for literally every dumb little thing in this show, why do you ask?)

It's only after Misty keeps pushing and backing her into a corner during their duel (and literally gaslighting her) that she begins to believe Misty's version of the events. Which is why this doesn't "count" as Aki being in conflict with her powers the way her second duel with Yusei does. At least not to me, feel free to debate me over this if you wanna.

Okay, but what am I driving at here? Fair question. Let me hop back to after the dark signers' defeat.

So, we know there's a half-year timeskip between the DS and the pre-WRGP arc (which was allegedly enough for NDC to connect the city and Satellite, deal with all the social issues that entailed, and also build a giant duel network, which I will never believe but I digress). Unfortunately, what exactly our main characters did during that timeskip is never addressed, it's just kind of there to segway immediately into the WRGP setup. So the only thing we can do is guess at what they got up to based on where they are as people by the time we get back to them during the start of the pre-WRGP arc. So where's Aki at when we see her again after the dark signers' defeat then?

Oh, she's attending duel academy again now! That's nice. So that probably means the student body isn't scared shitless of her anymore and she's not being ostracised anymore.

Wow, she's an exceptional student! That means she must be a really good duellist. So she got the hang of her powers, then?

...Ah.

Do you start to see my problem? Past the DS arc, we are not being given any indication that Aki is still struggling with her powers or still resents them or herself like she used to. You could be forgiven for thinking that she's healed in the meantime. She's fine. She has accepted herself and can now use her powers safely. Which makes her later claiming "she no longer needs that cursed power" a bit... hmmm. And another thing. The fact that she refers to it as "cursed" rubs me the wrong way. After the defeat of the dark signers, she literally never does that even a single time before the moment in the hospital during the storm. (I'd post all the screenshots to prove it here but for one, tumblr doesn't allow it, and for two, I hope you'll believe I did my due diligence without it.)

And it just irks me. If the powers are still a "curse" to Aki by episodes 108-109, why give us the moment above?

And why give us this moment, where she saves Sherry, Yusei, and herself with those powers?

And why give us this moment, where she literally uses her powers at a public event to protect people, and is evidently not cussed out as a witch for it? Neither of these moments do anything to indicate that Aki still hates her powers. They don't indicate that she sees them as a "beast of burden" or necessary evil of a sort, either. On the contrary, I don't think it would be too out there to claim all these moments make her look rather badass. Like a small celebration of "hey, now she can finally use these powers for cool and not evil things!".

Yet, somehow, we still end up with episodes 108-109, where the writers expect the audience to buy that Aki was secretly still hoping she might eventually be rid of these powers after all. And maybe this would be easier to swallow if there weren't also the fact that they later literally go back on it to add to this confusing mess. Because the thing is, we all know the finale scene after the three-way duel with Sherry where Aki protects them with her powers (which have suddenly reappeared, aha!) again and also finds out she can use these powers to heal. So not only is the framing of Aki suddenly being glad to have lost her powers extremely weird, it's also temporary anyway!

So my question is. What was the point. What was the point of all this if the writers ended up going back on it anyway? Because I want to believe there's a reasonable, charitable explanation that also makes sense with what they show us in terms of Aki's characterisation past the DS arc, but if there is, I cannot for the life of me find it. If anything, this whole thing feels like it completely contradicts itself.

First, they tie up Aki's conflict with her powers with a neat bow after she manages not to hurt her father anymore. Then, they launch into the pre-WRGP arc and blatantly tell us that she can now control them. No questions asked. Indisputable fact, and we get nothing that contradicts that, either. Then, we get a bunch of setup showing her using her powers, too, and what's more, we get other significant players in the cast taking notice of it, too, as though it might become relevant. Because Sherry isn't the only one who gets curious about Aki's powers.

(I will never understand how Placido's hood works together with his horn-thingies and have stopped trying at this point.)

The literal, central antagonists of season 3-4 also take notice of it. Like that means something. Like it'll come up again later. But, well. We know it doesn't.

Instead, she suddenly loses her powers out of nowhere (and we are never given a reason for it, either, which does nothing to make this writing decision seem anymore understandable). And, look. The thing that upsets me most about this isn't even the fact that it feels a little inconsistent with Aki's character post DS arc. If that were the only problem, I could still suspend my disbelief far enough to go along with the idea that she secretly still hated her powers quietly in the background and wanted them gone anyway. What really pisses me off is that it reeks of zero setup and knee-jerk decisions in the writing room ten miles against the wind. If they wanted us to believe Aki's glad to be rid of her powers, why give absolutely no indication that she's at odds with them past episode 41 anymore? Why let her state outright that she can now control them? Why show her on several occasions using them to her own and other people's benefit, the way a hero would? And if her powers are supposed to vanish and it's supposed to make sense, why is there no reason for it? They already used cyborg timetravel at that point, they could have literally come up with any nonsense related to that and it would have probably made at least more sense than just letting her powers vanish for no reason at all. Also, if the message behind all this is supposed to be either of the things I mentioned way above—if the idea the audience is supposed to be getting is either "you don't need special powers to be a hero" or "your past and/or your mistakes don't define you and you can heal and grow past them"—why reintroduce the powers, which, in this reading, would be a symbol of Aki's pain, of her mistakes and her dreaded past, at the very end, during the finale, then? It just doesn't add up, and it frustrates me to no end.

The writers wanted to make the moment Aki realises she can help people (well, one person, a child) without her powers seem triumphant so bad, but every time I watch it, it just completely falls flat for me. This isn't a triumph, this is a hot mess of bad writing decisions. All I'm saying is, if they wanted me to buy that Aki would be happy about losing her powers here, they were missing a hefty amount of setup and also shouldn't actually have given them back to her during the finale (no, not even as healing powers).

Moreover... I'll freely admit I also have a personal problem with this scene. I've seen this show and these episodes several times by now, and during my last rewatch and my current one, something about this scene has been creeping up on me, and I think I've figured out what that is now. So I talked about the possible message behind this scene already, and the reading I've given so far was fairly forgiving. But the thing is, there is another reading that has occurred to me that I can't unsee anymore. As much as you could make a valid case that this scene is trying to say that people don't need to be special to be heroes and save others, that past mistakes don't define us, and yadda yadda, there's also a much, much less pleasant way to interpret this scene: "You're better off if you don't stand out." And I'll freely admit, this interpretation probably occurs to me specifically because I was considered a "weird kid" at school, singled out by bullies, and avoided by "popular" kids (take a wild guess why I relate to Aki so much!). And over the years, you learn to downplay that "weirdness" because you become desperate to be accepted by someone, anyone. And given everything the show gives us about Aki's relationship with her powers, it'd make sense that this idea would be buried somewhere in her head, too. It's better not to stand out. Don't be weird. Sand down your edges so there's no chance people could get upset about them. You're better off being whatever everyone else considers "normal" than being whoever you are. It doesn't matter if this is a part of who you are, just become someone else. Someone who's easier to accept. Who's easier to love. You don't need your "weirdness".

You don't need this cursed power.

You know, the "cursed power" that Aki had from the beginning of the show, that was a part of her for years, and that the show didn't give any indication could vanish. The power that we were led to believe would just be there forever, because it was simply a part of Aki, not a conscious thing she (or the narrative) could choose. The power that we were, for all intents and purposes, led to believe she had mastered and maybe even accepted along the way. But sure, let's get rid of that. It's better if she's """normal""". And more convenient for the writers, too! After all, if she doesn't have powers anymore, they can't cause plotholes (of which the WRGP already has enough) and can't possibly give Aki any more badass moments, which makes it that much easier to sideline her. And let's package this weird, shittily set-up moment in a message about how she's better off without her powers anyway. She's happy! It makes complete sense that she's happy. She's finally normal like everyone else. Ignore the way people who might relate to the character could possibly interpret this moment differently. And ignore how none of the writing surrounding this moment makes sense.

...Sigh.

Okay, I think I've let off enough steam. I just. Yeah. I'm sorry, but I cannot for the life of me view this scene in a favourable way and watching it today made me want to chew glass tbh. My only solace is that they went back on this trainwreck writing decision in the finale. Which, really, just makes this whole mess really, really pointless, doesn't it?

For anyone who stuck around this long, thanks for reading. Sorry if this got extra-rant-y. Idk man, I just think “it’s worth the effort to accept yourself as you are, even with all the bits you might not like at first” would have been a better message than whatever this turned out to be.

#yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski #ygo 5ds #5ds #character analysis #orchid watches 5ds (again)#episode 108 #episode 109 #orchid rambles

85 notes · View notes

nametakensff · 11 months

Note

oooh can i request 🥶🤬🤧 for st/eddie?

Ok, so this ended up at 13.7k 💀 it just took over and I kept going - thank you so much for the prompt! 💕

E/ddie and S/teve had been planning to go to a concert together for months. The day of, however, they wake up sick and grouchy. Everything continues to spiral from there

~~~~~~

Content:

M/M, Established Relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, colds, contagion, mess, handjobs, fevers, they're just generally super fucking unwell but fuck about it anyway, fetishy dirty talk

CW:

Lots of fighting and angst, mentions of homophobia, Q slur is used

Some other notes:

- I've written E/ddie as having undiagnosed ADHD - nobody knows it's a thing, including him

- The fic is set in January 1988, so S/teve and E/ddie have been in a relationship for about a year and a half

- I'm a British person who cannot drive and has been to Indiana twice, I'm trying my best to make this scenario believable haha

Fic is v NSFW, so under a readmore! Hope you enjoy 🥰

If Eddie hadn’t been teetering on the edge of breaking point for the last several hours already, the car rolling to a miserable, sputtering stop out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere would have been the final straw. As it was, he didn’t know whether to scream or cry. So he sat there in astonished disbelief as Steve attempted to start the car, over and over. He watched his boyfriend slap the steering wheel in frustration through unblinking eyes.

“Steve. Steve? Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck have we stopped??”

He watched the muscles in the younger man’s jaw tighten, refusing to look at him and instead frowning angrily out of the front window. His knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel, and Eddie could swear a vein was starting to bulge on his forehead.

“We better not be out of gas. Steve? Are we – are we actually out of gas??”

Radio silence as he continued to stare at Steve, growing more panicked by the second.

“Ste-“

“YES, okay?? We’re out of fucking gas. God damn it!”

Steve slapped the wheel again, grinding his teeth. Before he could help himself, Eddie burst into high pitched squeals of laughter. He sounded deranged, hysterical, but he supposed he was having a breakdown and there was nothing much he could do to prevent it. At least Steve was finally looking at him – though glaring would be the more appropriate term.

“What the fuck?”

Eddie concurred – what the fuck, indeed. But no matter how much he willed it, the nervous laughter would not stop. Steve had had enough, cursing as he got out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him. It would do no good to check for any petrol – Eddie had told him they were running low, but Steve just hadn’t listened. He checked anyway – the metalhead watched in the rear-view mirror as he popped the trunk and rummaged for a full cannister, coming up empty. At least Eddie’s insane cackles had fizzled down to the occasional reedy giggle. Steve got back in his seat, slamming the door again.

Several minutes of almost silence passed, both men staring blankly into space. An awkwardly loud sniffle from Steve jolted Eddie back to the present. He watched as Steve lifted a broad palm to hover in front of his gaping mouth, nostrils twitching in preparation for the oncoming sneeze. Underneath the exhaustion, the anger and utter defeat, Eddie still found himself admiring his boyfriend’s profile, eyes fixed on his crumpling expression, almost on autopilot.

“Hh-HAH!! HAAAESHHH’uuu!! H’RRIIISSHHH!! TSCHHHH!! Mother fucker –“

Steve fumbled in the glove box for a tissue, a napkin, anything to clean himself up with. The powerful sneeze had not only drenched his palm, several droplets running down his wrist, but his nose had started to run down his lip. Again, his search was futile – they had long used up any tissue or bandana they had to hand. Eddie sat in contemplation for a moment, then sighed heavily before reaching into the back seat for his things. He opened his backpack, glanced sadly at his Black Sabbath ‘Born Again’ Tour t-shirt, before wordlessly thrusting it in Steve’s general direction.

He heard Steve pause, hesitating, before he gently took the shirt from Eddie. The older man thought he heard a small ‘thank you’, but it honestly wouldn’t have surprised him if it had been a ‘fuck you’ either. Eddie grimaced at the sound of Steve emptying his poor, congested sinuses into his prized possession, arousal and frustration warring in his stomach. He turned his head in time to watch Steve wipe his nostrils dry, painfully red from hours of similar abuse.

Those sneezes had been notably louder and even messier than the endless preceding ones, which had already been amping up in intensity over the past couple of hours, making driving an increasingly difficult task. Eddie wondered if the silver lining of being lost in the middle of nowhere was that Steve hadn’t gotten them into any major accidents by sneezing them into an oncoming vehicle. The thought didn’t help him one bit, however. Silver linings, my ass. Silver linings could fuck off and die – much like he wanted to, in this present moment.

He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closing against anxiety that flowed through his extremities in waves, engulfing him in a paralytic sense of doom. He really needed to keep his cool, but he was failing miserably. He’d just have to ride it out for now, wait until the panic plateaued and subsided.

He considered their current situation – both of them sick, with what he now suspected was the flu, given how quickly it had come on and the way his head was starting to pound. They were lost; they had no gas and their car was stuck on the side of a road with nothing but cornfields surrounding them as far as the eye could see, like some god damn B Horror movie. They had no food, no more Tylenol, no tissues. They had been fighting for hours. They were tired. It was below freezing outside, and he could already feel the lack of heating. It didn’t take a genius intellect to deduce that they were well and truly Fucked with a capital F.

As if some decidedly non-divine higher power had a personal vendetta against him – a suspicion which Eddie had entertained several times throughout his life – his nose was starting to tickle, again. More accurately, his head was abuzz with the desire to sneeze within milliseconds, giving him almost no warning or buildup before he was jerked forward by a fit of intensely itchy sneezes.

“HhdTT’chiew! Hggxt! Hig’xt! Ehg’xxt! GXXT’CHieww!!”

He had stifled the first one by sheer willpower, able to pinch his wildly flaring nostrils shut between a thumb and forefinger for the next few. The last somehow managed to barrel past his wavering grip, slick nostrils slipping free. He shouldn’t be suppressing them like this – not now, not when he was ill and the only thing it would seek to accomplish was a burgeoning sinus infection. His head throbbed anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, willing himself not to whimper.

“…You shouldn’t-“

“I know. Please. Just. Leave me alone.”

He knew that was the wrong thing to say, even after having said plenty of wrong things today already. He had heard the genuine concern in Steve’s voice when he spoke, and he could now feel that his previous anger had been rekindled, emanating from the former jock in almost tangible waves of resentment. He had often fucking hated his life before Steve, but this was the first time he’d ever fucking hated it since.

Steve was right, of course. He knew stifling would hurt him, and he normally reserved it for when he was unable to hold back an allergic fit in public. Here it was just him and Steve – his boyfriend, with the same fetish for sneezing as him. He should be sneezing with abandon, as he normally did around him. It pleased Steve, it pleased him, it didn’t hurt – what reason could he possibly have for bullying the sneezes into submission?

If he was being completely honest with himself, it was this: Steve didn’t deserve to hear them right now. It was possibly one of the pettiest things Eddie had ever thought, and he’d been plenty petty in his time. But right now, he wanted Steve to know how fucking pissed he was at him, even though it hurt to feel the same sentiment directed back at him. He had purposely twisted himself towards the passenger window as he sneezed, biting back the sound and hiding his face from Steve in entirety. He never thought he would be in a position where he didn’t want Steve’s roving eyes drinking in the visuals of his desperate pre-sneeze expression, but here he fucking was.

Eddie leaned his forehead against the window, eyes shut and jaw clenched. The cold glass against his skin felt wonderful, but it also made him shiver, confirming that he was indeed feverish. Just perfect. Wasn’t it enough that they would be missing the concert they’d been looking forward to for months, on top of fucking hating each other right now, without both of them being sick as a dog? He felt the threatening prickle of tears he’d been holding back for hours forming at the corner of his eyes, the final cherry on top of this shit sundae that was his day.

~~~~~~

Steve, for what it was worth, was feeling just as miserable as his boyfriend. Hell, he thought he probably felt worse – the guilt of ignoring Eddie’s warning about running low on gas burning like acid in the pit of his stomach. At the time, he probably even knew the older man was right; but he’d been so fucking angry with him already for fucking up their money that he’d barely listened to him. Admittedly, he’d been a grade A asshole ever since he woke up that morning, lurching forward with a throat-scraping sneeze, a nasty head cold already well settled in his sinuses. His prickly mood had practically invited friction with his sensitive boyfriend, who was also coming down with something himself.

He clenched the steering wheel with both hands and urged himself to calm down. The anger and frustration he’d been feeling almost nonstop for hours had left him shaking. Despite it all, despite how this was the angriest he had ever been with his boyfriend, he couldn’t help his almost pavlovian response to the older man’s irritated little sneezes. His traitorous dick throbbed against the tight confines of his levi’s. The fact that he couldn’t control his physical response just made him even angrier – it was a never-ending cycle of frustration that seemed to travel through him in an uncomfortable thrum. He hated feeling this way.

His sinuses buzzed and he reached up with a fist to rub at his nose, mashing it around so harshly he could hear the resounding wet squelching noises with each motion. He glanced at Eddie, finding him still slumped and motionless up against the passenger door, staunchly ignoring him. His turned back felt like a door closing in his face, the metalhead about as distant from Steve as he could possibly be whilst still sitting less than a few feet away from him. Eddie could be moody at times, but today was a whole new level of dramatics that Steve knew he had been the cause of. The sight of his boyfriend inching himself as far away from him as he physically could was incredibly painful, so Steve turned his gaze back to the steering wheel and tried to think.

They didn’t really have much of a choice either way – they would simply have to wait for someone to come by. He should’ve brought one of the walkie-talkies that had saved him countless times in his misadventures against Vecna, The Mindflayer, the Demodogs – but hindsight was 20/20 and perhaps given all the insane supernatural danger he’d been through, he’d neglected the very real possibility that the mundane could be dangerous too.

His head gave a sudden and sharp throb, wrenching him out of his thoughts as he cursed softly under his breath. He made a mental note to track down and kill the Family Video customer that had gifted him with this real sucker punch of a bug. The second the guy had walked in, eyes streaming and nose bright red, Steve should’ve hightailed it to the back of the store. But Robin was already off with another customer, and the guy beelined to the counter where Steve had been standing. He tried his best to smile welcomingly at him, pointedly looking anywhere other than his twitching pink nostrils.

The guy had asked Steve for recommendations on a date night movie, even as he took a damp wad of tissues from his pocket and pawed with it at his nose. Good luck with that date, buddy, Steve had thought whilst rattling off a list of romantic comedies that would fit the bill. He remembered that ‘Dirty Dancing’ had just come out on VHS, and the guy seemed to brighten at that idea, so Steve went to grab a copy for him. He handed it to the guy and hurriedly typed away at the computer, eager to get this dude and his germs out of the store.

He’d been so close, too, but as he turned to tell the poor guy to enjoy his movie, he’d been met with the sight of him sneezing, uncovered, down at his counter. To his credit, he seemed completely mortified, attempting to wipe the surface clean with an even dirtier tissue, but Steve had assured him through only slightly clenched teeth that it was okay, and to feel better. The man had all but sprinted through the door, and Steve set to sterilising the counter, disgust and arousal battling inside him at the realisation that the colossal sneeze had actually left visible droplets in its wake.

He should’ve known it would be his turn to get sick. It was January, and he’d made it all the way through December without so much as a sniffle, avoiding catching Robin’s cold earlier that month even after they’d cuddled their way through a movie marathon in her living room. It was practically unheard of that he would get through Winter without catching a cold. It was unheard of that he would only catch one. He had only hoped he could count on that good luck a little while longer, just long enough that he could enjoy the concert Eddie had been planning for months.

~~~~~~

Iron Maiden was not a band that Steve had cared to listen to, nor were horror movies something he cared to watch. Dating Eddie Munson meant that he didn’t really have all that much of a choice in the matter. Several months earlier, Eddie had convinced Steve to check out ‘Phenomena’ with him. The last film they’d watched together was ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, which had quickly become one of Steve’s favourites – and despite his griping, he knew Eddie liked it, too – but he was well overdue a horror movie watch with his distinctly macabre boyfriend. It was totally worth it watching Eddie’s entire face light up, big brown eyes practically glittering with excitement, when Steve acquiesced.

“This one’s from Italy,” Eddie had told him enthusiastically as he pushed the VHS into the player, “But it’s supposed to have a totally metal soundtrack, and the director – you remember ‘Suspiria’, that movie with the ballerinas and witches?”

Steve had remembered, but it was less the witches that had terrified him than the dog suddenly ripping a guy’s entire throat out unprompted. He’d made Eddie escort him to and from the bathroom that night. He nodded.

“Well, that guy, Argento, he made this one, too!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Steve raised an arm against the offending cushion that Eddie flung down at him, the two wrestling briefly before settling in and focusing on the movie. Steve honestly found it horribly boring – it had that one girl from ‘Labyrinth’ in it, a movie Eddie and Robin gushed about regularly, but not much else was going on to keep him interested. In general, watching his boyfriend’s animated profile was much more entertaining.

It had been in a sudden chase scene, a young girl running from some unseen pursuer and towards a gruesome fate that ‘Flash of the Blade’ by Iron Maiden had started to play and Eddie had been head-banging rhythmically within seconds. He turned to Steve, completely and utterly ecstatic, child-like grin splitting his face, and Steve’s heart had been so full he’d been unable to do much more than smile dreamily at his boyfriend. When Eddie had eased up on the frantic fidgeting and belting out the lyrics alongside the movie, he’d snuggled up to him and breathed in the scent of his warm curls until he’d dozed off.

He’d woken up just before the movie had ended. A lake was burning or something like that. When Eddie had turned to him with a huge grin and asked him what his favourite part of the movie had been, Steve honestly answered “The part with the Iron Maiden song." Eddie beamed.

“You liked that song, Stevie?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Steve answered, not entirely untruthfully. It was less the song itself – more that it animated Eddie in a way Steve would like to see every single day for the rest of his life.

“The lyrics are fuckin’ awesome, too – kind of like a D&D, intrepid knight kind of theme!”

“Totally.” Steve smiled at him.

“You know…The Maiden are coming to Indianapolis in January – I was gonna go with Corroded Coffin but they’re all busy that weekend, so – so what if we went, together? I know it’s not your thing, I totally get if you don’t wanna go, but-“

“I’ll go with you.”

Eddie looked so excited that Steve’s heart skipped a beat. Yes. More of that. Keep looking at me like that.

“Oh, fuck, are you serious, Stevie? Fuckin’ A, man! I need to get organised!”

~~~~~~~

And so, Steve had committed to the gig, nearly as excited as Eddie for their little trip up to Indy. It wasn’t often that they managed to get the time to spend more than their evenings together, even now that they finally had their own apartment. It had taken a great deal of planning, and it should have been perfect. But it had all gone to shit.

The first thing that went wrong, as noted before, was both of them waking up sick. They’d been grouchy, neither of them looking forward to the long drive ahead. Steve was resentful of the fact that he would be crammed in an arena jampacked with sweaty, drunken metal dudes, and Eddie was resentful of the fact that Steve was resentful. Steve hadn’t mean to put a damper on their mood, but he truly felt awful and couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend his evening. He would much rather stay bundled up in bed with his sick boyfriend, where they could look after each other and enjoy each other’s company in peace. Maybe when they felt a little better, they could really enjoy their mutual cold in a more…intimate fashion. But no. They’d committed with both time and money. Car journey and concert it was.

The second thing that had gone wrong, after a bumpy but still salvageable morning, was Eddie losing their food, medicine and other supplies that he had just bought at the first gas station they stopped at. They were good for water, a six pack of one litre bottles in the trunk, and they figured since they’d be grabbing dinner later that evening, a couple of sandwiches and snacks for the road would suit them fine. Steve had volunteered to head into the store, knowing how distracted his boyfriend could get, but Eddie had waved him off and insisted it’d be fine. When Eddie had strolled back to the car 20 minutes later, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, Steve had asked him if everything was okay.

“More than okay, dude.” Eddie had grinned at him, then opened his backpack to reveal a freshly purchased bag of weed.

“Where did you-?”

“Ran into a previous client in the store – he deals now, and he gave me an old chum’s discount.”

Steve pulled out of the parking lot, thinking to himself that smoking up later on might make the miserable experience of being sick at a concert more bearable than if he’d been sober. It was about 10 minutes later that through the brain fog he realised he hadn’t seen Eddie carrying any kind of purchase from the store, and hadn’t seen anything but weed in his backpack.

“Munson, you did – get us food and stuff, right?”

Eddie, who had been lazily leaning back in his seat and rubbing at his nose with the palm of his hand, suddenly shot upright.

“Shit. SHIT.��

Steve jumped a little.

“What, dude?! Are you okay?”

Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“I left the stuff behind the gas station – I put the bag down when I was getting the weed.”

Steve gaped at him before cursing under his breath. He looked for the nearest opportunity to turn round and swung the car back in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing, man?”

“We might still be able to find it. I mean, what the fuck, Eddie? Drug deals?? Right now?”

Steve could feel the anger bubbling up steadily, his regular patience almost non-existent. Eddie was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“It’s not like I meant to lose our shit, okay? I just – you know, I forget things.”

“That’s why I offered to go in myself!”

“I’m not an infant, Harrington, I can function well enough to buy crap at a store.”

“Clearly fucking not?! You left our stuff and spent our money on pot – thanks for fucking asking, by the way - when we could have easily found something closer to the gig. Like seriously, man, not cool.”

“UGH, I didn’t mean to leave it! I got distracted and I just – it was a good deal and I thought it would help us mellow out. That it would help you mellow out.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Steve…..you can’t honestly tell me you don’t know how much of a fucking asshole you’ve been to me today?”

“I’m not the asshole who prioritised a fucking drug deal over food and medicine!”

“Ohh my god, Steve! I bought our fucking food, I bought our fucking medicine, I just forgot it, okay?! I forgot to pick the bag up off the ground, heaven forbid a guy make a mistake every once in while!”

Steve could see that Eddie was visibly upset, and he knew he felt awful about forgetting their things. He was about to apologise for overreacting when he noticed Eddie freeze up once again, patting his pockets frantically and moaning.

“What. Eddie, what? What’s wrong now?”

“….Can’t find my wallet. I think I left it in the bag.”

Steve could have sworn he saw red. They’d put almost all of their money together in Eddie’s wallet, leaving just enough for hotel fees in Steve’s, a stupid fucking thing to do in hindsight but something that neither of them had assumed would fuck them in the ass later.

“I genuinely don’t know what to say to you. Oh my fucking god.”

Steve saw Eddie wince out of the corner of his eye, and he realised he had quite possibly never hated himself more than he did in that moment. He was acting just like his father, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The anger was so palpable he could hardly breathe.

They drove the rest of the way back to the store in silence. Eddie was yanking the passenger door open before the car had even come to a full stop, sprinting towards the back of the store. Steve watched as his boyfriend emerged from behind the building empty handed several moments later, taking in his devastated expression. He swore loudly before resting his head on the steering wheel, motionless as Eddie got back into the car.

“…I found a ten in my pocket, but we might need it for gas later on.” He heard Eddie mutter.

“We don’t. We need food and medicine more.”

“No, dude, we’re gonna need more gas.”

“And I’m telling you, we don’t. Come on, I’ll buy us stuff this time.”

Steve looked over at the older man and held his hand out expectantly for the money. The look Eddie shot his way was lethal. The metalhead slapped the bill into his palm.

“Knock yourself out, mom.”

Steve got out of the car.

“Rather be a mom than a brat.”

He slammed the door behind him.

~~~~~~

“Hh-HH! Heh’ENGXT’tchieww!! HDT’Tsiewww!! Eht’tchieww! Hh’ISSSH’ieww!!”

Eddie’s head rocked forward with the force of the fit, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. Luckily he hadn’t veered off course too much this time. He noticed suddenly that Steve had reached out to steady the wheel while he sneezed, and though the gesture was perfectly reasonable, he was already so angry with him that it just served to piss him off more than anything. He snuffled and elbowed Steve’s hand away.

“Dude, I got this. Leave it alone.”

Steve threw up his hands and rolled his eyes, a supremely immature gesture that made Eddie resent him all the more. It was a sickening feeling, being angry with Steve, and on top of his worsening cold Eddie didn’t know how much more he could take. He was angry at himself, as well. He felt stupid, so fucking stupid. Steve was right to be pissed at him for the colossal fuck-up he had managed to achieve – hell, we would be pissed at Steve had their roles been reversed.

What really fucking stung, though, was the disappointment and derision his boyfriend had directed his way. It was nasty and it wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced before from the former jock, even when he really had been an asshole at school. He was normally such a sweetheart. He understood that Eddie could lose track of time, forget what he was doing in any given moment. It was part of what had made school so miserable – he had tried his best but it was like no matter how much he tried to focus, he just couldn’t. Like his brain was on constant overdrive. He thought Steve had accepted that about him, really understood him. But the way he’d looked at him when Eddie had messed up at the gas station, the tone of his voice – it hurt so badly he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He knew Steve was sick, and that made him sulky, but fuck, man.

He heard Steve gasp beside him. They’d both started sneezing in earnest a few hours ago, raging their way through the small box of tissues Steve had managed to buy for them alongside a bottle of Tylenol and a single sandwich that they had split. They were down to just a few tissues.

“HAAAEEESHHH’uuu!! HARRESHHHIEWW!! TISSSSH’ieww!!”

Eddie listened in vague appreciation to the rich vocal sound of Steve’s increasingly violent cold sneezes, wishing he didn’t hate him so much in that moment so he could enjoy them in full. He was concerned at the way they had Steve tumbling forward over his knees, jerking against the restraint of his seat belt. Any thought of them actually having a good time at this concert had all but vanished at this point, but to admit that out loud would be to admit defeat, and mean they’d put themselves through all this misery for fucking nothing.

Steve swiped the last two tissues from the box and blew his nose, a thick, crackling sound that betrayed just how congested he was becoming. Two wouldn’t be enough, Eddie knew, and his suspicions were confirmed when Steve rooted in his pocket to finish cleaning himself up with a used, balled-up tissue. Eddie sighed. He had a few bandanas in his backpack – he could offer one to Steve now, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him.

They drove for another 30 or so minutes before Eddie started to pull up to a gas station. Steve sat up and looked at him questioningly.

“Why are we stopping at a gas station?”

“To watch a fucking movie.”

“Eddie-“

“We’re fucking obviously getting gas, Steve - we’re not gonna last the rest of the drive.”

“With what money are you getting gas?”

Eddie glared at Steve, patience worn completely thin. God, the way he was talking to him like he was his fucking dad, or something. It was infuriating.

“We still have the money in your wallet – it would only cost a couple of bucks.”

“No, no – we worked it out, this is just enough for our hotel. We can’t show up short, they’d turn us away.”

“They’re not gonna get the chance to turn us away if we don’t even ghh-get th-there-hh!!”

Eddie scrubbed at his flaring nostrils in a desperate attempt to mollify the tickle, but luck was decidedly not on his side today.

“Ehh-!! EGXXXT’shiewww!! HAHDT’chieww!! IGSHHH!! HIGXT’shieww!! EHH’TSSCH’ieww!! Ahh…F-fuck…”

The sneezes were intense and incredibly wet, curling him over the steering wheel and forcing tears of irritation from his eyes. He felt Steve reach out to steady the wheel again, this time not fighting it. He was almost trembling in the aftermath of that fit, an unwelcome combination of pleasure and frustration prickling at his skin. He sniffled miserably.

“Bless you.”

He blushed in response to the blessing, neither of them having acknowledged each other’s sneezing for hours. Perhaps Steve had temporarily forgotten to be angry with him, given the dramatic scene he had just made. For the first time in their relationship, he cursed their shared fetish - it was making things increasingly complicated. He did not like the mixed signals his brain was sending him – ‘never talk to Steve ever again’ and ‘fuck Steve in the back seat right now’ were about as contradictory as could be, and the confusion only made him grumpier.

He continued to drive towards the gas station, about to pull in when Steve’s hand, still firmly wrapped round the wheel, twisted them away. Eddie yelped in surprise.

“Are you fucking insane, Harrington?! What are you doing?!”

“We don’t need gas, Munson. I told you already.”

Eddie could hardly believe what was happening. He had never known Steve to behave so – so childishly. It was fucking rich, considering the brat accusation Steve had hurled his way earlier that day. He smacked Steve’s hand away and continued onward past the gas station.

“Fine. If you fucking say so, King Steve.” He got a small kick of satisfaction watching Steve squirm in response, but otherwise saying nothing.

“We’re switching in 20 minutes.” Steve mumbled after a beat.

Eddie grunted in recognition. He wondered if Steve realised he wasn’t due to drive for another hour, but he was feeling far too petty and passive-aggressive to correct him.

~~~~~

Eddie was practically tearing his hair out. Some way, somehow, they had managed to get lost. Like, middle of nowhere, cornfields for days lost. Both of them had driven to Indianapolis before without a single issue. This had to be a curse. It just had to be.

The road map spread out over his knees made zero fucking sense – it didn’t help that Steve wouldn’t let him turn on the overhead light, and he was instead holding a torch with half-dead batteries casting a flickering beam over the endless configuration of road diagrams. He was starting to feel a little car sick for his efforts, taking short breaks to peer out of the window and find his bearings. The last of the Tylenol was doing fuck all for him, and he could not. Stop. Sneezing. Case in point, his breath started to hitch yet again.

“Heh-!!”

He fumbled in his pocket for his bandana, almost but not quite bringing it up to cover his mouth in time.

“ENGXTCH’tssieww!!”

The first sneeze burst out of him, pink nostrils flared wide in desperation, dousing the map in his lap with a cloud of spray. He muffled the next three into his bandana, gasping for breath when they finally subsided. This cold – this flu, perhaps – was absolutely kicking his ass. These sneezes gave him hardly any warning, taking on a life of their own and pitching him forward helplessly at their leisure. He blinked down at the map through bleary eyes, noticing to his chagrin that he had sneezed a veritable puddle all over Columbus and the surrounding terrain of about 20 miles. Luckily, not an area they should be anywhere near – though perhaps it couldn’t completely be written off given that they could literally be on god damn Mars as far as Eddie was concerned.

He abandoned the map, attempting to fold it neatly for all of 5 seconds before he was scrunching it up in anger and jamming it back into the glove box. Steve had stopped listening to his suggestions ages ago, anyway. He just kept driving down the endless expanse of the pitch black road, sneezing explosively every couple of minutes. Eddie was no longer glancing at his wristwatch, slowly resigning himself to the fact that they would, in fact, be missing the concert in its entirety. He would cry about it later when Steve couldn’t see. Right now, he was trying not to freak out about the fact that he could have sworn they had driven down this particular spread of infinite road before – not that it looked any different, the only visual markers being corn to the left, corn to the right, corn fucking everywhere.

It's not like this could get any worse.

It was as this traitorous thought flashed through Eddie’s mind that he heard Steve curse and pull the car to the side of the road, just as it sputtered miserably and abruptly stopped dead in its tracks.

~~~~~

They’d been sitting there in silence for at least 10 minutes before Steve started to shiver. It was well into the evening now and the lack of heating of any kind was really starting to get to him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, at least – it wasn’t that bad, out here. The night sky was even brighter than Hawkins, brimming with the light of a billion stars. He remembered the night that Eddie had taken him up to Weathertop Hill and they’d stargazed for hours, never letting go of each other’s hands. The thought of it right now made his chest hurt. He was positive that Eddie would no longer want to be with him, not after today. In a sad way, he was already in a phase of pre-emptive acceptance – a form of self-protection where he convinced himself that the worst was bound to happen, so he may as well get ready for it. Robin told him he had low self-esteem, but he liked to think of it more as emotional pragmatism.

A sudden small hiccup of breath jolted Steve out of his ruminations. He peered over at his (probably soon to be ex) boyfriend’s back and noticed it was trembling. Another slightly louder gasp of breath graced the air and Steve realised with a sickly, sinking feeling that Eddie was crying. Eddie was crying because of him. Steve had felt pretty fucking awful about his behaviour in the past but nothing, nothing compared to how awful he felt in this moment. The pain in his chest seemed to pulse outwards and engulf him in its entirety.

“….Eddie? Baby?”

His voice sounded so fragile he even shocked himself. Eddie froze for a second before continuing to cry softly, giving Steve nothing in response. Steve noticed that the trembling had become full body shaking. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a fit of sneezes that came on so quickly he only managed to catch the last one in Eddie’s ruined shirt.

“HEEEISSSHHH!! AEEESHHUUU!! HH’TISHHHH!! MMP’TSCHHH!!”

He blushed, wishing not for the first time in his life that he was able to control the volume and force of his sneezing. He normally loved sharing this fetish with Eddie, but in this moment it couldn’t be more of an inconvenience. He blew his nose as quietly as possible, which was not at all, before reaching out a tentative hand to rest in the centre of the older man’s spasming back. He felt Eddie flinch, but he didn’t move away. Steve frowned at the heat emanating beneath his palm, sizzling hot even through the fabric of Eddie’s long-sleeve tee. It startled him, given that he was sure he already had an elevated temperature himself – shouldn’t Eddie feel normal to him? Was he that much warmer?

He felt Eddie’s back expand under his fingertips before the older man was suddenly jerking forward with a series of tightly stifled sneezes, the first five almost completely silent besides a soft squelching sound. Steve rubbed a small circle between Eddie’s shoulder blades in a way that he hoped would be soothing, biting his bottom lip hard as concern coursed through him. Eddie continued to sneeze, finally giving in and letting them loose, the persistent cold-induced tickle leaving him gasping helplessly.

“HIG’tchieww!! Engxt’TCHIEWW!! ‘TCHIEWW!! Eh’NGXT’Tschieww!! Nnn….”

He’d thoroughly sprayed his palm with the fit, which he then wiped shakily on his thigh. Steve heard him sniffle thickly before drooping back against the windowpane. He leaned forward in his seat and placed his other hand on Eddie’s left shoulder.

“Eddie? Are you okay, honey?”

He heard Eddie mumble incoherently before a rumbling cough had him pitching forward again, muscles spasming under Steve’s palm with the effort. Steve cursed and rubbed his back through it. When Eddie’s breath evened out again, Steve used the hand on his shoulder to gently push him back into his seat. The metalhead still wouldn’t look at him, eyes stubbornly fixed to the right, but Steve barely noticed. He took in Eddie’s pale, tear-stained face, the heavy circles under his eyes, his painfully red nose which was leaking down to his lips. He looked pallid, and so, so unwell. His cheeks had little spots of colour on them, a sure sign of fever. Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Ohh, Eds….”

He choked out a sob. It was too much. He hadn’t cried since the aftermath of their stint with Vecna, alone in Robin’s bathroom - and even that had been measured, controlled. He didn’t cry. Harringtons don’t cry. But all the same, here he was, bawling like a little kid. He felt sick, he felt like an asshole, they were lost and cold and hungry and tired and it felt like the end of the world so he just cried and cried and cried.

~~~~~

Eddie had intended to ignore Steve to his final breath. He was too weak to resist as the younger man pushed him back in his seat and out of the passive-aggressive contortion he had worked himself into against the car door. That last fit of sneezes had left his head swimming, and he was honestly grateful for the comfortable upholstery of his boyfriend’s BMW. Even as angry as he was, the warmth and weight of Steve’s hand on his back had been, for a moment, the most reassuring feeling in the world. But Steve didn’t need to know that. Steve could damn well wait until he was ready to forgive him.

But then Steve started crying.

Eddie spun round, eyes fixing firmly on Steve’s crumpled expression. It was terrifying, like seeing a parent or teacher or other unshakeable adult cry for the first time and realising they’re just an overgrown kid themself. His boyfriend looked so vulnerable, so lost, so unbelievably sad that Eddie found that he burst into tears as well. His strong, powerful boyfriend, the same man who had leapt headfirst into a lake in pitch darkness, who had ripped a demon bat monster in two with his bare hands, who had faced paranormal monsters to protect his friends countless times – that man, his Stevie, was crying like a little boy who’d lost his mommy in a supermarket. And it was all his fault.

He reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder.

“Stevie…Please don’t cry, Steve, please! It’s ok! We’re ok!”

He was sobbing almost as hard as Steve, ignoring the way the pounding in head was swelling to an almost unbearable throb. He leaned his body awkwardly over into Steve’s seat and wrapped his arms around him in a fierce hug. Fighting be damned, this entire fucking nightmare of a day be damned. He just wanted Steve to stop crying like the world was ending before he actually died of a broken heart.

“Eddie-!! I’m s-sorry-!” Steve choked out where he had buried his face against his shoulder, fingers digging fiercely into Eddie’s back. Eddie shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Stevie – I fucked it up! I always fuck things up!”

Admitting it out loud sent a new wave of sadness rushing through him and he cried harder, squeezing Steve tight.

“Y-you don’t-! You’re not-! It was m-my fault, I was just….awful to you! You didn’t do anything wrong, I fucked it up-!”

Steve sounded close to hyperventilating, so Eddie willed himself to calm down for the both of them. He shushed him gently, stroking his hair and holding his body close as it was wracked with gasping sobs. He’d been such a petty tool, trying to punish Steve with his silence. Steve had been right before – he was a brat, at least he had been today, and he needed to fucking grow up.

“Shh, honey….it’s ok, we were both being fucking assholes. We are fucking assholes, and that’s why we work so well together. We’re soul holes!!”

Steve snorted a brief laugh between sobs and Eddie felt the icy fingertips of dread loosen slightly from where they’d been squeezing his temples in a death grip. He could fix this. As long as they could love each other, everything else was insignificant. They would be okay.

He continued to hold Steve, ignoring the way his back was starting to protest at the angle he was holding himself at. The younger man was starting to calm down, occasional hiccupping breaths shaking him but otherwise slowing his crying. Eddie pressed small kisses to his hair, conscious of his runny nose and trying his best to angle himself in a way he wouldn’t make a total mess of the expertly crafted style Steve was so proud of.

He felt Steve tense in his grip, and started to ask what was wrong when Steve rocked forward against the protective cover of his shoulder and sneezed violently.

“HEHH’MPPTSXHH!! MPP’TSCHIEWW!!! MPPPTSCHHH!!!”

Eddie’s breath hitched, blood rushing south as he felt every shiver, every contraction of Steve’s muscular body in his arms. The sensation of his pointed nose pressing insistently up against his shoulder and the sheer volume of each sneeze so close to his ear had him reeling. They’d been particularly high-pitched for the former jock, making Eddie think he must have had a particularly irritating tickle in his nose. He moaned softly and stroked Steve’s back.

“Bless you, honey. Poor baby,” he sighed, noting that Steve hadn’t made any action to extract his face from where it remained pressed firmly up against him. He could feel the moistened fabric clinging to his skin.

“Did you make a mess, sweetheart?”

“….Ymmf.”

Eddie took that as a ‘yes’.

He gently sat back in his seat, extricating himself from Steve and watching as his boyfriend’s flushed, dripping face came into sight. A thick strand of mess hung between Steve’s left nostril and the damp patch on Eddie’s shirt. Steve scrambled for the shirt in his lap, gingerly wiping the mess away on Eddie’s shoulder and severing the connection before bringing it up to his own nose. His eyes were puffy and sore as he peered up at Eddie, blushing behind the bundle of fabric pressed to his face.

Eddie reached out and squeezed Steve’s thigh. A sudden sharp pain speared through his skull and he audibly groaned, pressing his head back against his seat. Steve took his hand in his own. They sat for a moment, not talking, but for the first time that day the silence was comfortable.

~~~~~

Steve’s head throbbed in the aftermath of what had to be one of the most intense cries of his life. It wasn’t something he wanted to experience in any regular capacity. He was also terribly embarrassed, even though it was just Eddie who had seen him. Robin was constantly reminding him that it was healthy to accept when you needed help, or to recognise when you were approaching your limit. Some metaphor about a pot boiling over that had just made Steve’s mind wander to the food he had planned to cook for when the kids came round to his apartment later that week. The point being, he should definitely work on his listening skills and Robin was right. Again.

He could feel Eddie shaking as he held his palm in his own. The older man was leaning back into his seat with a pained expression plastered to his face. Steve cleared his throat.

“So….”

Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, Big Boy?”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being ‘this is a total downer’ and 10 being ‘I would like to request some assistance in dying’, where are you at right now?”

He heard Eddie chuckle before moaning softly.

“About a gazillion. I feel….really fucking bad, Stevie.”

Steve turned his head to take in the older man’s appearance once more. He was deathly pale, looking even worse than he had just 10 minutes earlier. Steve tried not to panic.

“You look awful, Eds…” he cooed.

Eddie cracked a crooked smile at him.

“You sure know how to make a guy f-feel…special-hh’HH!! ENGXT’Chieww!! HDDT’chieww!! IGSHHH’ieww!! Hhh’HDT’chieww-IGT’chieww-ICKKSHH!! Ohhh, Jesus…”

Steve was unable to make out the spray in the dark, but he could hear just how wet and sickly each sneeze sounded. His cock throbbed in his jeans, unbelievably still as interested in Eddie’s impressive displays of sensitivity as ever. Eddie snuffled thickly and Steve held out the soiled shirt to him. Eddie took it and blew his nose on a dry spot, of which there were now exceedingly few. Steve rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Eddie’s hand. His boyfriend groaned before speaking again.

“Ugh, I can’t fucking stop. This has to be some new kind of super plague.”

“Well, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

He felt Eddie squeeze his hand.

“What about you? Scale of 1 to 10?”

Steve paused, doing a quick mental scan of his general wellbeing. He felt like ass.

“…A billion, maybe? Not as bad as you.”

Eddie scoffed.

“You’ve gotta be feeling pretty bad to cry like that.”

Steve bristled, embarrassment pulsing through him.

“I-!! You were-! I just-!”

“Woahhh, dude, it’s okay – I’m not mocking you, or anything. I was cryin’ too. Before you even started. It’s no big deal, Stevie. I just know it’s not something you do very often – or, at all, actually?”

Steve sighed.

“Yeah. You know – you know my dad. How he feels about – vulnerability, or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

Steve felt the ever-present tickle in his sinuses flicker to life, suddenly and with little warning. He pitched forward with another round of messy cold sneezes.

“HH’RIISHHHH!! HAARRRESHEWW!! ITSSCHHHH!!”

“Engxt’chiew!! Hh!! HIG’Tchieww!! Ingxt’chieww!! ENGXT’TCHIEWWW!!”

Steve and Eddie made eye contact at the same time, sheepishly turning to look at one another behind their protective barriers of choice – Steve’s hands, steepled to his face, and Eddie’s elbow, which he gripped steadily with his other arm. They burst into laughter, stopping only when Steve buckled forward with a coughing fit, Eddie whacking him on the back as he proceeded to sputter and choke. He finally leant back, wiping the spittle from his lips.

“What the actual fuck is our life right now, dude.”

“You know? I think it’s actually pretty on brand for us, man.”

Steve shot a sardonic glance his way.

“Elaborate.”

“Just, you know – the first time I really spoke to you outside of the occasional encounter at school? I was literally on the run, a god damn murder suspect. We fought demon monsters in an alternate dimension. I figured out you liked me because we have this fucking obscure fetish and you kept popping boners all allergy season.”

Steve groaned.

“Shut upppp…”

Eddie didn’t shut up.

“What I mean, is this: we’ve never done anything in an even remotely conventional fashion. I think I may genuinely be allergic to conformity. What’s another allergy to me?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I am. We are. It’s fitting that our first real fight be such a huge, dramatic affair that ends with us freezing to death on the side of a country road. Poetic, some might say.”

“We’re not going to die out here, man. Somebody’ll come by.”

Even as Steve said it, he was doubtful. They’d been driving alone for hours before the car had stopped and nothing had come from either direction since. More worryingly, though, was the fact that he could now see his own breath, and Eddie’s teeth were starting to chatter. He fiddled with the ring on Eddie’s index finger.

“Let’s get in the backseat, share some body heat, okay?”

He watched Eddie nod briskly, face scrunching up.

“Okay. Want to hold you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. It’s okay though, remember? It’s okay.”

~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later and the two were bundled up in the backseat of Steve’s car. They’d at least remembered to bring coats with them, but otherwise assumed due to the heat of the venue and the quick turn around from car to hotel to venue to car, they wouldn’t need such heavy padding. Luckily, Steve found an old blanket in the trunk from the last time they’d gone on a picnic, which was now firmly secured around them. Eddie complained the blanket was too scratchy, but Steve had replied that there was no way he could tell through his thick Winter parka. Eddie had eventually conceded.

Steve had wedged himself against the car door, the hood of his thick coat offering some cushioning. Eddie was lying in his arms, his back up against Steve’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. They nestled into each other, desperately seeking each other’s warmth. Eddie felt like a furnace to Steve – which, given the circumstances, was not unwelcome, but it worried him to no end that the long-haired man continued to shiver in his arms despite their combined heat.

They had retired Eddie’s Black Sabbath shirt as an honorary snot rag, moving on to Steve’s extra polo shirt as their new makeshift tissue. It was currently pressed up against Eddie’s face as he shook with yet another sneezing fit.

“ENGXT’tchieww!! HDDT’tchieww!! TSCH’ieww!! HAGT’TSCHIEWWW!!! Uhgg…”

He snuffled thickly, settling back against the younger man. Steve’s cock was hard, pressed up as it was against Eddie’s lower back. He loved being able to experience every tremor, every jerk that travelled through his poor love’s body as the sneezes rocked him back and forth. He knew Eddie could feel how excited he was, but they both ignored it.

The metalhead had suggested fooling around to keep them warm, and Steve had even entertained the idea, thinking he could maybe get past the tight band of tension squeezing at his temples. An orgasm might even lessen the discomfort. But then Eddie had all but swooned to the gravelly earth the second he attempted to get out of the car, and Steve had nipped that idea in the bud almost instantly. He sprinted over to his boyfriend and helped him to his feet – slowly, since that sprint had left his head swimming and black spots dancing before his eyes. He’d deposited Eddie in the backseat, grabbed the blanket, and arranged them as best he could.

Eddie had wanted to be the big spoon, but Steve had flat out refused, stating that he didn’t want to be responsible for squashing the older man to death in his weakened state. He had at least 20 pounds on him and the pressure of his solid musculature pressing the dungeon master up against the door was a surefire way to suffocate him. Eddie had argued that Steve was faring no better than he in the oxygen department, pointing out that he was still winded by the tumultuous journey from trunk to backseat. Steve told him to bite him. Eddie reached out and nibbled on his forearm.

So here they were, mercifully settled at last. Or, as settled as they could be, given that they were frequently curled upwards or jostled backwards by their damn near constant sneezing. As Eddie scrubbed his itchy nostrils against the fabric of the shirt, Steve pressed kisses to his fuzzy curls.

“Bless you, baby. That was a big one, at the end.”

“Mmm. They’re conspiring to kill me.”

Steve snorted.

“’They’? Your sneezes?”

“Absolutely. Always been out to get me, but now they’ve finally decided to put me out of my misery.”

“So dramatic.”

Eddie fidgeted in Steve’s arms, trying to realign himself to the choice position he had been in before his cold had so rudely uprooted him. Steve bit his lip as Eddie rubbed up against his cock, holding back a moan. The older man seemed to find a position he was happy with and went boneless against Steve, letting out a tiny little mewl of satisfaction. Steve tightened his arms around him, an overwhelming wave of affection urging him to draw his boyfriend closer to him.

“You’re so cute, Munson.”

“I know. Now tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“Flatterer. Keep it coming.”

“You’re s-so-! Ohh, gonna-!! HH’HEH!!”

Eddie lifted the shirt in his grasp, angling it back over his shoulder. Steve frantically pressed his face into the folds, inhaled deeply enough to lift Eddie up an inch or two, and sneezed forcefully.

“HRRRRSHH’MPH!! TISHHHHH!! HAEEESHHH!! HEH-!! HEYYYESSSHEWWW!!!”

He groaned in the aftermath, head pounding. Eddie was right, this did feel like some kind of super plague. He was sneezing every couple of minutes or so like clockwork, and every fit seemed to wipe him out as if he’d finished running a marathon. He panted into the cloth for a moment longer, feeling his boyfriend clumsily wipe his nose and mouth as best he could from the awkward angle. He nodded, signalling it was ok for Eddie to lower the shirt. He felt the older man squirm slightly, curls brushing against his face as he angled himself back to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“God bless you, Stevie. Such a tickle.”

Steve blushed at the attention, his cock giving an appreciative throb in his jeans. He once again entertained the idea of fucking in the backseat, was about to vocalise this when Eddie hissed in pain, head pushing back and digging into Steve’s shoulder. He could see the grimace on the older man’s face.

“Baby?”

Eddie didn’t answer, riding out what Steve knew to be another round of deep throbs in his skull. Brow furrowed in concern, he stroked an arm gently up and down his boyfriend’s side as the dungeon master strained against him. His erection was flagging, momentarily catching up to the seriousness and decided unsexiness of the situation they were in. The older man finally seemed to relax, a shaky exhale leaving him. Steve nuzzled his face down into his curls.

“Feel so bad, Stevie…gettin’ worse…”

Eddie was panting slightly, the small puffs of exhalation visible in the frigid air.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He could feel his own body starting to ache, head swimming with fever. It’d only been an hour since their car had died, but they’d gotten so much sicker in that time that Steve was starting to worry in earnest. He didn’t think they would die, nothing quite so dramatic as that, but they would need more water soon at the pace they were needily gulping it down, and he was worried about Eddie’s fever. If Robin were there – god, how he wished she was – she’d tell him to worry about himself as well, before rattling off about a billion different contradictory fever reduction techniques. He smiled at the thought of her, his partner in crime, feeling slightly better for picturing her face.

He reached for a bottle of water and took a long drink before offering it to Eddie, forcing him to drink as well. When they were finished, he snuggled down again into his boyfriend’s curls.

“We’ll be okay, Munson. We survived the Upside Down, we can survive rural Indiana.”

~~~~~

Eddie had no idea how long it had been by the time he heard the familiar rumbling of an approaching vehicle through the foggy haze of his fever. He and Steve were in a state of persistent half-consciousness. They would both be right on the brink of sleep when one of them would succumb to a tickle in their nose, shaking them both to full wakefulness. It had gotten progressively less jarring after the fiftieth time; it almost felt routine.

The metalhead could feel Steve’s cock, half-hard, pressing up against him. He ought to be surprised his boyfriend could still feel arousal given their less than stellar circumstances, but then he would absolutely be the proverbial kettle calling the pot black. His own erection would come and go with every fit of sneezes from either himself or his boyfriend, making him feel like a horny middle schooler. He was almost glad he was too sick to be embarrassed about it. Almost.

He had just finished mumbling a blessing to Steve, his boyfriend having sprayed down the front of his coat with a fierce triple, when the unmistakeable crunch of tires on gravel perked him up faster than an espresso shot.

“Steve? Steve! I think there’s a car – no, yeah, there’s a fucking car, man!”

“Holy shit!”

He felt Steve start and attempted to shuffle off him, but found himself flopping helplessly backwards, entirely winded by the effort.

“Ugh, sorry…”

Steve gently rocked him forward and quickly arranged him so that he was sitting up in his seat, before kissing his cheek and scrambling onto the road.

“Be careful-!” Eddie shouted, immediately regretting raising his voice as he doubled over with a hacking cough. He brought the nearby water bottle to his lips with shaking hands and took a generous swig, gasping. He could make out the headlights of a van pulling up behind them, then the rumbles of a conversation. Alongside Steve’s voice, a rougher, deeper voice registered. A man, then. He swallowed the fear that this guy might clock them as a couple of queers – or maybe he was a serial killer? They were screwed either way. He closed his eyes and listened. No shouting, just a gentle back and forth. He heard Steve sneeze, then the other man chuckle. It was a friendly sound. He relaxed a little.

He started slightly at the sound of the door beside him opening, looking up to see Steve leaning over him.

“Hey, Eds. Great news, this guy – Leonard – he’s heading straight to Indianapolis. Before you ask, don’t worry, I saw his ID. He’s delivering deckchairs, or something? Anyway - he’s got some gas for the car, but when I told him we were sick he said we could ride in the back of his truck and he’d tow us the rest of the way.”

Eddie smiled softly, happy to see Steve looking a little more animated, even if he did look like death warmed up. The eye bags he was sporting made his droopy brown eyes look even lazier than usual. It was worrying, but still cute. Steve held out a hand and helped him climb out of the car. He felt shaky on his legs, like a baby deer. Glancing over Steve’s shoulder he spotted a jovial, middle-aged man approaching with a tow rope. He was sporting a flannel shirt over a pendulous beer belly, peaked cap on his head and a huge copper beard engulfing his face. He looked rough, but his eyes were kind and his smile was soothing.

“You must be Eddie!” Leonard said, walking over to them. He frowned a little as he took in the sight of the two of them up close. “Christ, boys, you look just about dead on your feet! Pardon me sayin’.”

Eddie huffed a small laugh.

“No, you’re right. We’ve been…better.”

Leonard smiled at him, looking paternal and endeared. Eddie liked the guy already – he sort of reminded him of Wayne, albeit a much more chipper Wayne.

“Well, don’t you worry. You and Steve just hop on in the back of the ol’ dream machine and I’ll take you far as you need to go. Y’all said you’re heading to Indy?”

“That was the plan.” Steve confirmed, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible.

“Great – like I said, I’m heading straight over there, but if you’d prefer, I know a decent little motel just outside city limits that’ll have some vacancies?”

“That would be great,” Eddie almost moaned, thinking that even the grubbiest motel mattress in the world would be heaven right about now.

“Sure thing, sure thing. Well, we should be there in less than hour, give or take.”

“Um, Leonard? I meant to ask but – where exactly are we?” Steve asked.

“Just outside of Rushville.”

Eddie and Steve gaped. They’d somehow managed to clear straight past Indianapolis altogether and keep on south. Their faces must have successfully conveyed their almost comical shock, as Leonard bellowed out a rumbling laugh.

“You boys really got the short end of the stick today, huh? Come on, get your asses in the truck – I’ll finish up here and we can get on the road.”

“Thank you, Leonard, really – this is – we were really in a rough place-“ Steve started.

“Don’t you worry, now. Go on, get – there are tissues in the back. I get hayfever something fierce come Spring.”

Eddie watched Steve nod before his strong arm was wrapped around his waist, supporting the metalhead as he walked them both to the Truck in question. They had to pause briefly for Eddie to sneeze, a helpless little fit of six partially stifled paroxysms. Leonard offered a cheery blessing from where he was securing their car, and Eddie blushed. It was going to be a long hour.

~~~~

Steve woke up, slowly, pulled out of sleep first by the slow halt of the truck and then the gentle rumble of Leonard’s voice.

“Boys? We’re here. Rise and shine, now.”

Steve blinked open his eyes, taking in Leonard’s kind expression as he leaned back over his shoulder to look at them. The former jock was aware of the weight of Eddie’s head on his shoulder, and with a sudden icy rush of panic moved to gently push him away. It wasn’t that he thought Leonard would do anything to them, per se, but they needed to be careful. Eddie already attracted so much attention, not that Steve would change anything about him for the world – but still.

Eddie groaned and sat up gradually, squashing his fists up against his eyes and moving them in slow circles. Steve noticed that his boyfriend had left a little pool of saliva – or was it snot – where he’d been resting on his shoulder. They’d both fallen asleep within minutes, the blessed heating of Leonard’s dream machine wrapping warmth around them like the plushest of blankets. Steve was relieved, having been prepared for the embarrassing scenario in which he and Eddie sneezed nonstop all over the inside of the poor man’s vehicle for 50 minutes straight. He was already extremely grateful and a little shocked that Leonard had taken in the sight of their painfully obvious illness and let them ride with him in the first place.

“You boys went out like a light. Sure is nice to be young, huh?”

Steve felt Eddie jump beside him, and realised the older man had temporarily forgotten where he was. He patted him on the shoulder before turning back to Leonard.

“I’m so sorry we just passed out on you, sir. We didn’t make for good company at all.”

“Don’t you worry about that, son. You looked like you needed a decent night’s sleep. Speaking of, you should be able to get some more shut-eye at this little establishment. ‘Rita’s Motel’ – sure, it’s not the Ritz, by any means, but she’s served me well.”

Steve unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to look past Leonard at the small building in front of them. The motel was like any other, perhaps slightly homelier than most.

“Thank you, Leonard, for everything. I, uh, I really want to pay you back, but – we’re running low on cash, probably just enough for a night here, and-“

“I won’t hear it, Steve. You boys are clearly in a pinch. Not a single penny will I take. Now, come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll fill up the car while you sign in, then I’ll be on my way.”

Steve mumbled his thanks, over and over, feeling and sounding like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. The relief was overwhelming. Leonard slapped a broad palm down on his shoulder and chuckled, assuring him it was nothing. They were interrupted by a sudden burst of sneezes behind them. Steve turned and watched Eddie catch another three exceptionally loud and sickly sounding sneezes in his upraised hands.

“ENGGXXXTCHHH!!! IGXXT’SHIEWW!! Hahh’ENGXT’Tchiewww!!”

Steve’s heart lurched in his chest. He willed his cock to calm down; the last thing he wanted or needed in this very moment was to shield a mighty erection from their kind-hearted saviour. Eddie snuffled, the sound thick and incredibly messy. The older man blushed deeply behind his hands as he noticed both pairs of eyes trained on him – if he hadn’t been fully awake before, he sure was now.

“Good god, bless you!” Leonard exclaimed.

Eddie blushed an even darker shade of red, mumbling his thanks and frantically searching for something to clean himself up with, or perhaps a hole to go die in. Steve reached back beside Eddie and grabbed the almost full box of tissues Leonard had mentioned earlier. Eddie hesitated for a moment, and both Leonard and Steve seemed to realise his situation as he made no move to shift his hands from their steepled position over his face. They turned around to give the metalhead some privacy, Leonard making his way out of the truck and offering Steve a hand down out of the side door, having climbed over the seat to follow him.

“You take those tissues with you,” Leonard directed at Eddie as he opened up the exterior door for him to climb out. “Won’t be needing them for a while, anyways!”

Steve reached out to steady his boyfriend by the elbow, supporting him as he jumped down from the truck on shaky legs. True to his word, Leonard escorted them inside the antiquated reception area and got to talking with the small owlish looking woman behind the desk. Steve quickly realised this was the titular Rita, and that she was just as friendly and parental as the trucker.

“Oh, you poor things!” She cried, taking in the sight of the two of them, shivering pathetically behind Leonard’s great bulk. Both of them blushed to their ears – the attention was nice, but more than a little overwhelming.

Within minutes, Rita had signed them in and handed over the keys to their room. She had given them a discount, the cost far cheaper than Steve had been expecting. He wondered if it had anything to do with the violent triple of sneezes he had pathetically muffled into a balled up tissue as he gave her his details. Maternal to her core, she had even thrust a bottle of Tylenol and another of cold medicine their way, free of charge from the little supply she kept on hand. It felt like the universe was righting itself for all the bad luck they’d suffered that day, putting such kind and generous people in their path. Eddie tried to offer the left-over money to Leonard when he came back in from topping up their car, but he refused.

“You boys take care, now. You need anything, you go to Rita, okay? You’ll help these kids out, won’t you, old girl?”

“I don’t know this ‘old girl’ you’re referring to, Len, but I will certainly be here if you need me, boys.”

Leonard gently slapped them both on the back before saying his goodbyes, and then Rita was leading them to their room. Eddie and Steve thanked her and closed the door behind her. They wordlessly shucked off their coats, climbed into the double bed, and were asleep in seconds.

~~~~~~

“Hello?”

“Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne paused for a moment, recognising his nephew’s voice but taken aback by how worse for wear he sounded.

“You okay, son? What’re you doin’ callin’ me at 6 in the morning? I thought you’d be out all night at that concert.”

He heard Eddie sigh deeply before the unmistakable sound of him smothering a fit of coughs crackled down the line. Worry spread through his chest, that old paternal panic gripping him.

“Eddie?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. Actually, we, um? We didn’t make it. We got lost. And then we ran out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. And we’re both down with the fucking plague. So. I’m at a motel right now, a couple of miles outside of Indianapolis. We stayed here last night.”

Wayne blinked at the sudden overload of information. When he’d registered everything Eddie had told him, he sighed wearily.

“How in the hell did you and Steve manage to pull that off?” He light-heartedly jabbed.

“Ughh, I don’t know. We were fighting, like, all day, Wayne. We’re okay now but it was just awful. And so fucking stupid.”

Wayne sighed again.

“Well, as long as you’re okay. Situations like this are the kind of thing that make or break a couple, so if you’re both doing just fine now, I’d say you have successfully navigated your way to the next stage of your relationship.”

“You think so?”

Wayne smiled. Eddie seemed to have perked right up at that, just as intended.

“I do. Now, what do you need me for, you menace?”

~~~~~~

“HHHR’RRISHHH’IEW!! HRRRSHHCH’UU!! AESSSHHUUU!!!”

“Oh my god, Stevie. Bless you, angel!”

“Mmn. Thank you.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, shivering as he came inside from his trip to the payphone. Rita’s Motel had comfortable mattresses but was alarmingly lacking in working telephones. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his coat, unceremoniously dumping it on the floor, before stripping off the rest of his clothes. He took in the sight of Steve bundled up in bed, looking painfully adorable with his messy hair and little red nose, before climbing in beside him. He nuzzled up to him, rubbing his cold nose up against Steve’s.

“Hi.”

“How’re you feeling, big boy?”

“Like shit, still, but better. The cold medicine worked. Headache’s gone.” Steve pressed a small kiss to his lips. “What about you?”

Eddie kissed him back.

“Compared to last night? Waaay better, man.”

Steve furrowed his brow and reach out to press the back of his hand to his boyfriend’s forehead.

“You’re still really warm, but not quite so bad. I was really worried about you, honey.”

Eddie closed his eyes, pushing his thigh between Steve’s legs and bringing the younger man’s hand down from his forehead to clutch it against his chest.

“Worried about you too, baby.”

They lay there for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence before Steve spoke up.

“Did you get through to Wayne?”

“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry. Yeah. He’s coming through with Hopper later. Should get here around mid-day, he thinks.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Hopper’s coming? Why?”

“He said he owed him one. Hopper’ll come down with Wayne, then he’ll drive your car back up while we die a slow, miserable death in the back of Wayne’s car.”

“Oh…”

“Why even call Wayne to come down in the first place if we have a car full of gas, y’know? He just didn’t want us to drive, and towing the car would be a huge pain in the ass.”

“Right. Sorry. Took me a moment.”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed Steve right on the tip of his nose.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re sick.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled up at the teasing touch of Eddie’s lips against the sensitive skin.

“Eddie, Mm’gonna…gonna snee-!”

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let it out for me.”

Steve obeyed, taking in a final gasping breath, chest swelling to capacity, before sneezing unhindered onto his boyfriend’s face.

“HAAARESHHIIIEWW!! AEESHHHUUUU!! GITSCHHH’EWW!! TISSSSCHH’IEWW!!”

Eddie moaned in appreciation at the sensation of spray drenching his features, eyes closing reflexively against the force of it. Steve’s sneezes were already so loud and cock-teasingly desperate on a regular day, but the never-ending tickle his cold had inflicted upon him made them even more powerful. Within moments, Eddie was almost completely hard, the sudden rush of blood to his cock leaving him more than a little dizzy.

“Fuuuck, baby! Such big sneezes. Bless you.”

~~~~

Steve reached for a tissue from the box lying between them – Rita had gifted them with another several alongside Leonard’s gracious offering – and gently wiped the spray from his boyfriend’s face, blushing slightly to see droplets starting to roll their way across Eddie’s cheeks to the pillowcase.

“Damn, those were big!”

“Mmhmm. Just how I like them. You’re so gorgeous when you have a tickle, Stevie.”

Steve reached down between Eddie’s legs, smirking at the gasp the older man choked out as he gave his cock a teasing squeeze.

“You really are feeling better, huh?” He started to pump the length, long, slow strokes that squeezed the head of Eddie’s cock before making their way back down.

“Fuckk, Steve-!”

“Is that good, baby?”

“So good, always so good, holy shit-!”

Eddie bucked involuntarily in his grasp at a particularly hard squeeze to the base of his cock. Steve’s breath stuttered, feeling Eddie’s thigh press up against his own budding erection as his body jerked against him. Moaning, he pressed their foreheads together.

“You wanna get off with me, Munson?”

Eddie laughed breathily.

“Is the pope a catholic?”

“Ugh, don’t make me think about God right now, man.”

“Why? I’m right here.” Eddie grinned at him, looking far too pleased with himself. The cocky expression was somewhat weakened by his miserable complexion and swollen pink nose.

Steve wanted to think of a witty retort, but any thoughts of meeting Eddie with some cleverly formulated response vanished the second he felt his boyfriend’s sweaty palm wrapping around his cock and jerking it with several fast, hard pulls.

“Ohh, yeah,” He moaned, losing himself in the sensation, eyes fluttering shut and teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He was already embarrassingly close. His own hand faltered only temporarily before returning to stroking his boyfriend in earnest. Eddie pushed his thigh up harder between Steve’s legs, and he gasped.

“Mm, you like that, big boy?” Eddie moaned, mouthing at Steve’s lips. Steve closed the space between them and kissed him, both groaning as Eddie sucked hard on Steve’s tongue. They couldn’t keep it up much longer, though, noses far too stuffed up. It didn’t matter; they exchanged small kisses again and again, hands working each other in the ways they knew they liked best.

Steve peered down his nose at Eddie, his boyfriend’s face a rictus of concentrated pleasure, eyelashes fluttering above blushing cheeks as he panted and moaned. He looked so good like this; Steve felt himself lurch even closer to orgasm. He pictured the older man sneezing messily, an endless fit on loop for him in his mind, even as he stared at Eddie’s nose just at the end of his own. His nostrils would flare every now and then, in pleasure rather than in response to a burgeoning tickle. The subtle movements were such a tease – Steve wanted to watch those poor pink nostrils flare to capacity as Eddie built to a powerful sneezing fit. He cock throbbed against his boyfriend’s fingers.

Mind made up, Steve pushed their noses together and rubbed them back and forth. Eddie glanced down at them, slightly bewildered and looking temporarily cross-eyed. It was so cute – Steve chuckled under his breath, all the while continuing to rub his nose against Eddie’s, hoping to coax a sneeze (or five) out of him. He felt Eddie’s nostrils flaring wildly as he rubbed his nose down the side of the metalhead’s twitching appendage. His own nostrils flared minutely in a sort of sympathy twitch.

“Hh-HH!! Ohh, Stevie, s’gonna make me – make me-!!”

Steve groaned, just about managing to hold back from coming at his boyfriend’s words. He loved that Eddie played up every tickle for his pleasure, knew just what to say to work him all the way up. He nuzzled their noses together, slowly, feeling every tick of Eddie’s nostrils against him as they flared wide. A few more breathy, mewling gasps escaped from the older man before he was pulling back with a frantic urgency.

Steve started to come at the sight of the metalhead poised right on the precipice of losing all control. His eyebrows arched, mouth hanging slack as his nostrils twitched and twitched. He buckled forward at last, aiming each sneeze down between them. Steve’s orgasm engulfed him as he felt his boyfriend’s fit bathe his cock in spray, huge, cold-induced sneezes that he himself had helped to tease out.

“HIDDDTT’SHIEEWWW!! AHDDTT’ZSHIEWW!! EHh-NGXTCH’CHIEWW!! GXXTSH’TZSIEW!!”

A few more desperate, hitching gasps before a final, definitive “EHH’DZZTT’TSCHIEWW!!!” burst out of Eddie, so strong he trembled with it.

The orgasm continued to pulse outwards from his cock and throughout his limbs, the sweetest pleasure, leaving him shaking and moaning the metalhead’s name, coming in heavy spurts into the cage of his fingers.

He wound down from his peak, feeling sleepy all at once but willing himself to stay awake. Eddie was staring at him with a look of such intense desire that Steve’s spent cock pulsed pitifully in response. His grip retightened on Eddie’s cock and he resumed his stroking, desperate to watch his boyfriend fall into an orgasm of his own.

“Bless you, baby, fuckkk. That felt so good. You’re incredible.”

Eddie groaned, sniffling at the slight mess that dripped from his nose after that body-bending fit. He looked up at Steve before raising his hand to his lips and licking at the mess the former jock had left all over his fingers.

“Mm. You taste amazing, Stevie. Not that I can taste all that much right now.” He flashed a cheeky grin at Steve.

Steve grinned back and pulled Eddie closer to him with his free arm, pressing their chests flush together. It made jerking his boyfriend off a little harder, but they both sighed in satisfaction at the skin contact. Steve felt Eddie’s thighs starting to twitch, saw how his face had started to screw up – sure signs of his approaching orgasm. Not to mention the filthy, nonsensical ramblings pouring from his mouth that normally started up when he began to fall to pieces.

Eddie reached up to cup Steve’s cheek with his clean hand, tilting his face towards him.

“Do you have a tickle, baby? Sneeze for me?”

Steve sniffled experimentally. His cold had left him with a near-constant tickle just on the edge of fully culminating. He reached up briefly to rub the tip of his nose in small circles, feeling his breath catch as the tickle started to build anew. He sniffled a few more times for good measure.

“Yeah….oh-hohhh, yeah, definitely gonna…gonna sneeze..!”

“Unnnhh, Stevie!”

As Steve’s eyes started to flutter shut, he took in the sight of his boyfriend frozen right on the edge of orgasm. He was flushed all the way down to his chest, tattoos standing out in stark contrast. He was so damn pretty. Steve gasped, burying his nose in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“Get ready, baby-! It’s coming…gonna sneeze for you...HH-HAH!!”

One more final inhale, chest expanding against Eddie’s, before the tickle crested and he was pitching forward helplessly.

“HAHH’TISSSCHHH’IEWW!! ITSCCHHHIEWW!! HH-H-HUHH!! HUHHRESSHHHOOOhh!!”

Eddie’s strangled moan was loud in his ear as he snuffled against his neck, strong arm wrapped around the older man’s slender waist, feeling him strain and shiver against him. It looked and sounded like a particularly intense orgasm for the metalhead, and Steve felt a sort of pride mingled with affection spreading through his chest. He loved making Eddie feel good. He felt his hard cock jerk in his grasp, painting his fingers and both of their lower stomachs in hot stripes of cum.

Steve was almost asleep as his boyfriend came down from his high, mumbling and giggling as endorphins rushed through his system.

“Ohh, Steve, holy fuck!”

“Mmf.” Steve snuggled closer to Eddie, nestling up to him with the intention to pass the fuck out.

“Stevie. Steve. Not yet, honey. We need to clean up. And put some clothes on before Wayne gets here.”

Steve stubbornly did not budge, even as Eddie’s captured cock softened in his limp grasp.

“Noooo. They won’t be here for hours, anyway…” He nestled further into Eddie, then moaned in displeasure as his boyfriend wriggled free.

“Nuh-uh. Up, now. I don’t trust you to wake up in time. Not after that nut, and with that fever.”

“Ungggg……okay……”

Eddie helped Steve sit up, both of them swooning at the effort. Now that their orgasms had cleared their heads, the discomfort of their sickness was starting to filter through the afterglow. Eddie wiped Steve’s hand clean with a fresh tissue.

“Let’s jump in the shower – just for a couple of minutes, dude, stop whining! We smell like sick people and cum.”

Steve nodded. Eddie may be blunt, but he was right. He squeezed his hand in his own.

“Okay. I really, really love you, by the way. Let’s not fight over stupid shit anymore. Please?”

Eddie kissed him softly before wrapping his arms around Steve’s muscular shoulders.

“Yeah. No more fighting. Love you so much.”

They held each other for a couple more minutes before stumbling to their feet, shaky on their legs en route to the small bathroom and finding it hilarious. Their weekend might not have gone even remotely as planned, but neither of them regretted it, knowing they’d look back on it all one day and remember only the love they felt for each other as the tepid shower water sluiced over their feverish skin.

#it's.....a lot sappier than I usually write #sneezefic #nametakenfic #s/tranger t/hings #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snzfucker #snzblr

78 notes · View notes

hildred-rex · 6 months

Text

LXGF Reread 2023-11-20

To make an analysis post I am currently rereading what is shaping up to be the entirety of LXGF.

This has gotten incredibly long, so I'm burying it under a readmore.

I love the bit of dramatic irony here. I think it's technically spoilers which bit is the dramatic irony, but just trust me, it's great.

The wham shot of Mina's teeth is so good. And coupled with "We have some experience with such matters."...

From this page: The supportive hand on Irene's shoulder. The supportive hand on Irene's shoulder. And Irene really looks haunted in the "An explanation would be welcome" panel. Everything from the angle she's looking to the shadows under her eyes to her interlaced hands. I just want to give her a hug.

Bam. The king. (Isn't looking quite himself, is he?) I remember I shuddered when I first read this page and came to this panel.

The king continues to look very bad on the last panel of this page. (TW scopophobia and disturbing imagery.) And the color. It's so subtle you almost don't notice it the first time, just that something about the page seems slightly off. It's very effective, even at that level. And then when you do notice it... Nothing in this comic is in color. Everything is sepia-toned. That's the way things should be. But the dead King Wilhelm von Ormstein has yellow eyes.

VAN HELSING! And it nails how he talks in the book! (Having tried to write him, it's harder than it looks.) Not to mention the joy in my heart upon continuing my left-to-right scan of the panel and seeing QUINCEY MORRIS!

I've skipped a bunch here because I'm supposed to be focusing on Griffin and haven't even gotten to him yet but Art—

JONNO EYES (not sepia. I repeat: not sepia.)

I forgot how much I loved our introduction to Dorian.

And then we actually meet him (and see Paul Lessingham, the Politician, the Statesman—thank you, alt text!). He's angelic when you focus only on him, but when you look at him in context (in the panel with Basil) he's... less so. Very well done!

Foreshadowing. (When something becomes not technically probably spoilers I have a very laudatory post about all this.) Also floppy Dorian lol

I love this page. Not only do we see Dorian purposely provoke Art (and then see Art react, showing off both of their characterss) we see—and I missed this the first time—some of the dynamic between Dorian and Basil. He jumps in to distract Art, despite being scared himself (and Dorian having earned it).

Awwh Basil looks so excited that someone's treating him kindly...

Dorian's stories from this page are all allusions to other things which have gone onto the "read soon" list.

The last panel of this page is so effective. (Its image description too!)

"boring filler headline" lol (and I enjoy the tags)

DETERMINED MINA PANEL 2! BLUSHING MINA PANEL 6! Also just Mina's outfit in general. (Also just the LXGF outfits in general. I love the little garlic flowers.)

Paranoid Kemp is done so well.

LXGF is very good at having very effective final panels. This one with the glass... It's very well composed (I think that's the word) and does a good job of displaying Irene's discomfort with the glass. (Here.)

It was introduced on the previous page, but here's the first time we get a good look at Jonnovision. My favorite cryptid solicitor.

On the next page there's more cryptidness (the speed), which I didn't notice my first time through. And his eyes are glowing in the first panel... And then the first expletive of the comic! Such a great way to properly introduce Griffin!

I love (in a sad way) how Griffin just caves in when he thinks about the murder. (Here.)

Griffin's whole first scene is incredible. I can't comment on all of it or this post would be several more miles long. Just go read it and imagine me vibrating with excitement and pointing at random bits and screaming.

Character growth for Jack! ...I'm now very sad.

The panel with Jonathan and the angelic smile and the giant knife is great.

I've been annotating over here less because we've gotten to the bit that I'm talking about in my actual post, but rest assured that I love it. Also, the yellow is brighter here. And the eye... I'll count myself lucky if that thing doesn't show up in my dreams tonight.

And the shot of the photo at the end here! The corruption happening to the king slowly coming to affect depictions of him... I love this for spoiler-related reasons.

Griffin's realization is both very well done and unaccountably hilarious to me.

Hel-lo Mr. Holmes!

He respects her change of surname! Better than a lot of adaptations... and the table lmao

He. He what. Also floomp.

Holmes's immediate concern for Mrs. Hudson warms my heart.

HOLMES AROACE COMING OUT SCENE!

Accurate VH voice is back—what the deuce are you two talking about?

his blood is yellow his blood is yellow (well really more like golden)

Also Jack looking panicked in the second panel is so well done.

Almost namedrop! And Griffin being a delight as always.

Hello Jekyll! Great to see you! I enjoy your almost alchemical-looking setup there.

The king is progressing...

Same page; I enjoy Jekyll and Hyde's designs. They have the same hairstyle, very similar noses, and the same style of eye; but they still look different enough that you probably wouldn't believe them if they said they were cousins.

"He is a horror of the un-dead." Line of dialogue, presented without comment.

The drawingsss...

The first panel of this page is absolutely stunning. So is everything else. So much that I wrote an analysis rant of it.

#analysis #league of extraordinary gentlefolk #for most of this reread I had JubyPhonic's translation cover of “YELLOW” stuck in my head #long post

35 notes · View notes

deadbeatbirdmom · 6 months

Text

At the end of October I got my hands on Nendoroid!Blake. I didn't manage to get Nendoroid!Yang at the same time, although I did order her. She just arrived today from Japan, a long wait for poor Blake with the separation anxiety she may well have.

Here she is! More pics under a readmore cut that I hope works...

Yang’s eye view of incoming Blake.

Bees reunited!

Yang came with Ember Celica combat ready, and an alternate head with her Semblance active.

And this fiery effect.

Blake is combat ready too. I love that Gambol Shroud has a real ribbon.

I showed these pics to a friend and fellow Bees fan, and she mentioned how Yang looks so strange with her right arm, after being used to her without it for so long. I said I could 'fix' that.

Yang: internally screaming.

I'm so sorry, Yang. You're my fav and I make you suffer so.

I also showed pics including armless Yang to @lovingdabeessss, and they came up with this term to describe Yang’s predicament: armn't. I love it. Sorry Yang.

#Yang Xiao Long #Blake Belladonna #Bumbleby #deadbeatbirdmom posts

26 notes · View notes

tired-reader-writer · 6 months

Text

@ship-of-skitties Ask and ye shall receive.

More thoughts swirling in my head regarding my OC Horaia and the AU she's written into.

I realized that the draft was getting inordinately long as I'm in the process of typing this damn thing (it's been more than half an hour of nonstop typing as of the moment I'm retroactively acting this paragraph and readmore in the draft, send help) so I'll put the rest under the cut:

I have talked before of how Horaia had been more yearning than person her whole entire life (until she got her memories back in full that is, and even then it's not as though the longing disappeared entirely it just... settled. more on that elaborated here), right? It's a huge component of her character concept. That emptiness. That disconnect from the rest of the world. The amorphous ineffable sort of want. The hollow in her heart. The sheer loneliness from the secure sort of knowledge that nobody in this world can understand her fully.

“God occupies me as a shapeless hunger.”

And y'know what said hunger/longing/yearning/want/loneliness reminded me of?

The God of Darkness.

His story is basically that he'd been alone for so long, aching for companionship that'd break this loneliness, until he met the Goddess of Light and had a bunch of kids with her, and even though I don't think this was stated explicitly I have to wonder if his desire to see more life be brought forth from Ewigeliebe and Geduldh's union was in part fuelled by the memory of said loneliness. Anything to lift it. Anything to expel it. It's not enough, never enough, he must simply try to make the world less empty just so maybe the silent void won't drive him to despair.

An all-consuming sort of want, if you will.

Just like a black hole.

It's also said that the reason Royal Academy students gotta wear predominantly black clothes is a reference to the God of Darkness, represents and symbolizes the desire to consume any and all knowledge like darkness itself— though I can't seem to find a direct reference of this on the English wiki. I saw it in the light novels, I swear I fucking saw it.

Anyways, kid Horaia. She hears about the story of the gods and latches real hard on the God of Darkness's story in particular because the shaking crying little animal part of her psyche (the one constantly clawing at the back of her throat, desperate to scream out loud, the manifestation of this nameless grief for things she won't ever get back) relates to him. The darkness, the all-consuming, the black hole— a gravitational phenomenon so strong it devours everything and lets nothing escape its grasp.

So at night, she prays.

Or more like desperately pleads to the God of Darkness for answers, girl's not doing okay.

She asks:

What do you do with this hunger? What do you do with this desire? This emptiness, the hollow in your heart?

She asks:

What do you do with this desolation? What do you do with this loneliness, this grief of solitude?

And there is no answer but the silence from the dark of the room but she thinks she feels the weight of a gaze, a heaviness in the air, almost solid enough to cut through.

Maybe.

Some of you who has read one of the two drabbles I put forth may remember Myne's mulling on the subject of monsters, how Horaia had labelled herself one with something like pride.

Monere to monstrum to monster.

To admonish, to warn, to advise.

Portent, sign, divine omen.

Monster, monster, monster.

Aka girl keeps receiving warnings and visions in her dreams a la Hildegard von Bingen and becomes an omen in of itself because well what else is she gonna become? Carrier of divine will, one who communicates the gods' desires to the earth. Like Myne (Enheduanna) the Saint who carries the will of mortals to the divine in order to retrieve blessings and protections from them Horaia is almost a Prophet by the gods' design.

Schlaftraum is her patron deity for reasons I've stated before (though I'd be more than willing to say them again if y'all so wish) but the God of Darkness is also among those she honors the most.

On that note it does trip me up that Schlaftraum is Ewigeliebe's subordinate and not the God of Darkness's, like, the dream/sleep thing is already close enough to the divine domain of night, I always have to do a double take whenever I remember that the God of Dreams isn't a subordinate of the God of Darkness whose cloak symbolizes the night sky but oh well. It's fine. It's fucking fine. Don't think too much about it, argh!

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, Horaia's intimate bond with the divine, with the God of Darkness in particular.

Maybe she encounters the shrines on the Academy grounds. Maybe the first shrine she finds is of the Dark God.

Maybe it's the only shrine she frequents to pray to, because he's the only deity among the Seven that she really feels a solid connection to until she's pushed to do otherwise. Maybe. The details still aren't ironed out, I'm just chucking pasta at the wall to see what sticks for now.

Either way though, let me jump onto a tangent regarding her Gender Identity Shenanigans™ and how that intertwines with her affinity to the God of Darkness: y'know how the husbands are often compared to the Dark God and their (first) wives the Light Goddess?

Yeahhhh no. The labels got flipped with Horaia and Ferdinand. Because of course they did. I will not elaborate for now bc my brain is starting to fry with all this typing when will I be free aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Myne is also dragged into this bullshit dynamic bc of course, she's most affiliated with Mestionora and while adoptive daughter isn't quite the same a one and only grandchild it could plausibly be stretched as similar, ey?

Myne-as-Mestionora may or may not guide Horaia-as-God-of-Darkness to the Wisdom to take over Yurgenschmidt—

Like I said. Still stamping details out. I originally hadn't planned for Horaia to potentially become Zent? But ah well let's just roll with it I'm not in control of the damn AU anymore.

My thoughts are becoming jumbled and I couldn't really find a way to incorporate this seamlessly so here it is as a bonus:

Horaia pleading, I cannot bear this world a moment longer.

And the God of Darkness replying, Then, child, make another.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

On that note, the God of Darkness and Goddess of Light are said to be the “progenitor of all gods” but the only deities acknowledged to be theirs are the four seasonal deities sooooo what's up with that, but it isn't quite relevant to our discussion so I'll set my theological confusion aside for now.

#ascendance of a bookworm #honzuki no gekokujou #liminal au #Horaia (OC)#god of darkness #somebody send help my brain is melting #someone out there had better enjoy this post I poured in sweat blood and tears into this #I've been sick #so yeah #liminal: the unstraying

22 notes · View notes

flame-cat · 1 year

Text

hey fellas so @boyswillbeboxes and I have been cooking a fun concept for a few days and I thought I'd share it with you along with some Images I doodled. the post we're talking about at first is this one right here but if u don't feel like looking at it tl;dr its kim glaring at jean and being possessive of Harry. synopsis under the readmore! tws for suicide baiting and suicidal actions

rat: THAT FUCKIN COMIC WITH KIM GIVING JEAN THE SIDE EYE I'M SCREAMING

GET HIS ASS KIM

me: DLFJFKFKF IM SO GLAD U SAW ITTTT

rat: I JUST DID

me: thought of u makin that

rat: 😭😭

I'm so honored

God lmao you're right tho

Listen listen if Harry fails the check for the karaoke and Jean is there and doesn't clap for Harry, Kim swears a VENDETTA

That's CANON

He brings it up at the tribunal he's so petty

The second one

He says some really backhanded shit I don't remember the specifics but he's basically like Enemy Sighted

me: he took one look at this man and went "is anyone gonna become harshly overprotective of that" and didn't wait for an answer

rat: NO FOR REAL

IT'S INSANE HOW QUICKLY KIM WOULD DIE FOR HARRY

I LOVE IT I LOVE THEM

me: like in my head it literally is just. jean is minding his business. he doesn't even do anything. and Kim is just glaring daggers at him from across the room. in my head it's a sitcom bit where every time Harry leaves the room with Kim and Jean left Kim threatens Jean's life and as soon as Harry comes back in hes Normal again and jean is like GET YOUR FUCKING DOG BITCH

rat: Nobody ever believes Jean when he says this is happening

"No he's so even-tempered he's really polite maybe you just misinterpreted?"

Or even worse it makes Jean look crazy

me: like jean comes back to his desk and there's his mug which is now filled with dirt and a sticky note that says "bitch"

he looks over at Kim's desk and Kim is staring directly at him with murder in his eyes

and then a couple seconds pass and he looks away like nothing happened and jean is like "oh its ON motherfucker" (it is not on. jean can't hope to fight back against the wrath of kim kitsuragi)

jean fills Kim's coffee with salt? Kim just drinks it all. completely straight face. doesn't flinch once

kim comes over later and is like "thanks for the coffee" even tho jean was SURE no one saw him do that

he goes to fucking pryce about it eventually and he's just like "I don't appreciate you spreading rumors about the newest member of the 41st. he's done exemplary work. far better than you. maybe you need to go through that sensitivity training again?" and he blows his fucking LID over that.

challenges kim to a fucking brawl in the middle of the bullpen and Kim is just like. officer you're embarrassing yourself *eyebrow*

his reputation never recovers. even more of a joke than Dick Mullen now

rat: Kim being so so SO careful never to do this when anyone else is around. But then one day Jean is in the bathroom, and then the door opens, and it's Kim. And Kim just stops. Looks at him. Smirks a little. Then reaches behind himself and locks the door

And Jean feels FEAR

Kim never actually touches him. But it's very clear he's more than capable of following through on his threats.

Getting in his space and grabbing his chin to make sure Jean is Paying Attention

me: jean starts looking over his shoulder on his way home. one time Kim tails him just to fuck with him. jean thinks he loses him but when he gets onto his street kim is standing outside of his building, having his one cigarette

jean is stood frozen. Kim locks eyes with him as he puts out the cig on his boot. walks away

jean i think starts to try and play dirty as well but idk how he'd go about it. he's too... hm. stupid

rat: Yeah yeah yeah for sure like. He tries to "trick" Kim into a fight but Kim is five steps ahead at all times, he never takes the bait

And god help him if he tries to antagonize Harry to get to Kim

That's when Kim gets SERIOUS

That's when Kim finds him in a dark alley outside of work

Grabs a handful of his hair, smashes his face into a brick wall, puts him into a hammerlock hold

Whispers in his ear if he ever catches him trying that shit again, he's not getting a warning next time

me: I think it'd be hilarious if Jean tried to threaten suicide and it just. doesn't work. I think it'd make sense for him to bait kim like "okay well what if I killed myself and framed YOU for my MURDER" and Kim is like officer don't be dramatic get over yourself please

rat: Kim just staring at him like "Okay then. Do it. Right now."

Maybe Kim even hands over his gun

Jean trying to turn the tables by pointing it at Kim

Kim never flinches

"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Unlike your idiotic plan, I'll be missed. And we both know Harry never stops."

me: I just think that scene in the alley could end up with Harry intuiting whats going on, that an officer is in danger, so he goes to stop it and- hey JEAN IS POINTING A GUN AT KIM??? AND KIM ISNT??? STOPPING HIM????

rat: HARRY PUTTING HIMSELF IN THE WAY OF THE GUN

Jean having to reconcile the fact that Harry is no longer his, insofar as he was before

me: after a tense second of not moving. jean actually considering doing it.

rat: GOD Jean being like I could just do it. Shoot him, maybe have time to reload and shoot myself after. That might be the only way to truly Hurt Kim

me: kim catches on to that. and for the first time he IS afraid

hes fine losing himself. but losing Harry? he couldn't bear it. he would sooner die

then. all at once. jean drops it

he can't do it. too much of a coward. "GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU!!" punches the wall etc. definitely crying. meanwhile kim GRABS Harry by the shoulders. he's shaking with fury and also something else. "what the FUCK are you thinking-" and Harry cuts him off with "what are YOU thinking? what the fuck was that? what HAPPENED to you?"

Harry means "you two" but kim feels that in his soul

they leave jean to talk after that. and that conversation is not a pretty one

smth smth "I was trying to protect you" "that was too far" "he went too far first. he was hurting you" "so your solution is to hurt him back?" "he wasn't going to STOP" "then let me deal with it!" etc etc

no idea what jean does from there. maybe he actually fucking thinks and reconsiders things and idk grows as a person

anyway after that we get the dinner from hell

harry invites them to a get-along dinner. christ

GOD. THE TENSEST DINNER EVER. TO RIVAL ANY FAMILY DINNER

im just imagining them trying to throttle each other on top of some takeout

harry is yelling TIMEOUT TIMEOUT

composure failure

rat: Harry like "can't we all just get along??" and Kim and Jean say NO at the same time

me: they both point at each other at the same time and go HE STARTED IT

harry actually passes an authority check and scolds them and they both realize how petty this is and its all very embarrassing and Harry is treating this very seriously. fully goes "do you have anything to say?" and they grumble sorry and he's like "not to me. to *each other*"

rat: He only passed Kim's authority because Kim hates seeing him sad

me: slow look at each other. jean holds out a hand. Kim grabs it so tight you hear joints snap.

they still hate each other so so much but Harry is Determined to make them friends

its like. harry is their get-along shirt

rat: Harry like the power of love and friendship will prevail and Kim tries he really does but every time he sees Jean he hears the Kill Bill sirens in his head

He makes an honest effort to threaten his life less but that's all he can manage

me: I do think this could get resolved eventually tho. like harry being put in some sort of crisis situation where his life is on the line or something

rat: Wouldn't it be funny if the situation was something Harry put himself in though

Like getting himself kidnapped by a gang

Like "wow this will really bring Jean and Kim together! ♡"

Meanwhile he's literally tied to a chair with his face bloody and nose broken

And Jean and Kim HAVE to team up. They can't take on a gang ALONE

Jean pretends not to care but he cares so much it makes him look stupid

If Harry actually dies what the fuck is he supposed to do

me: it works but not in the way he intended cause it actually touches on the heart of the conflict is that Jean wants to blame Harry for everything ever and also he does care so much it makes him look stupid so when they find out it was actually sort of on purpose they BOTH GET MAD AT HIM FOR THE SAME REASON

a horrible, deadly pact is formed. harry is now in grave danger

rat: Harry wanted them to be friends. And now, unfortunately, they are

He's never getting let out of their sight again

me: I like to think eventually they do chill out and become friends about it. like outside of all that. maybe jean finally gets over himself and Kim and Harry have a talk about being posessive- lol I'm just kidding those two are codependent to the fucking grave. but still I think they could end up being civil and the death threats just become banter

the competitive streak never dies tho. constantly trying to one-up each other. functional kismesistude

#in the life #disco elysium #harrier du bois #kim kitsuragi #jean vicquemare #harrykim #kimharry #my art #pheo doodles

71 notes · View notes

dracolichbitch · 3 months

Note

"Why did you do that?" for the prompts perhaps? 👀

Ok so this is insanely long so most of it is going to be under a readmore because i'm not totally evil but because i'm a bastard the majority of it is exposition leading up to the prompt LMAO

Anyway here's Dirge my Banite tav and Urami my dragonborn durge from my dead three evil polycule au

There is something that everyone, from wizards to knaves knew, or at least found out before the untimely ends of their lives, and that is if one is unable to perceive danger, even in the darkest moments of night in their sleep, then they will not survive for long. Maybe it was the chill in her tent being driven away by his mere presence that woke her. Maybe it was the rustling of the tent flap. Or maybe it was something less tangible, more metaphysical. His killing intent directed at her. Whatever it was, it caused her to stir and force her aching eyes open despite the burning behind her lids.

What she saw would’ve chilled anyone else to the bone.

The first thing she could pick out was his glowing crimson eyes in the darkness. Two piercing daggers of baleful rage staring directly at her. Next were the scarlet scales marking his body, arcing across his chest like lightning, iridescent and illuminated by the force of his Urge against the rest of his black scales, as she quickly learned was always the case when he had all but lost control. And then her eyes adjusted to the dark, and focused in on the more minute details. The dagger firmly grasped in his hand. The tension in his shoulders. His uneven breathing. Most importantly, how he stood stock still, as if frozen, in the opening of her tent.

Anyone else would’ve been terrified of the Dragonborn. But she knew him, and for most that would be even more reason to be frightened, but she wasn’t most people. Tadpole or not, she still drew off Aylin’s immortality.

Even if he were to strike her down, like he had many times before, she would simply come back.

That knowledge bolstered her courage as she slipped out of her bedroll and rose to her feet. She made sure to approach him slowly, as though not to startle him, even though she knew out of the two of them, she was the one who should be afraid. She took a step closer, and then another, and then she was chest to chest with him, nose to nose.

She reached up gently and placed her hands on his bare chest.

“Urami… It’s ok.” She whispered, both for his benefit, as well as to avoid the risk of waking the others. He hadn’t told them of his urges, and thus neither had she. Though she kept much of what she knew about him to herself thus far in an attempt to explain things slowly, she had quietly revealed she was well aware of his urges, and promised to help him deal with them.

If that meant taking his dagger into her chest herself then so be it.

He recoiled from her touch, staggering backwards out of the tent. All without a word.

It was only now that she’d come closer that she noticed what she couldn’t at a distance. His eyes were open but he wasn’t awake.

The fact that he’s able to resist the Urge to this degree even in his sleep is astonishing. She noted as she followed him out of her tent, less concerned for her own safety and more for his. The Urge has a nasty habit of redirecting his knife hand towards himself if he resists for too long. Having shared his bed for so long, she knew that better than anyone.

Urami didn’t look at her, and certainly didn’t say anything to her as he stalked away from her tent with renewed vigor in his step, and it only took a moments glance around to realize whose tent he was going for.

That bard that just showed up. Well, at least its not anyone important. Dirge noted as she was quick to cast a silence spell around the tent and the area around it. It wouldn’t do for the screams to alert anyone else in camp.

She watched Urami slip inside the tent, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long. She was well aware that when suppressed to this point, simply killing wasn’t enough to sate the Urge. Now, it wanted to play.

Alfira crawled out of her tent on her hands and knees, jaw working soundlessly as she tried to scream, tears pouring from her bright, glowing eyes. One hand clutched her abdomen as she struggled in futility to get away from Urami.

Urami who wasn’t far behind her. He slipped out of the tent in a single fluid motion, and Dirge knew that even without her silence spell, he wouldn’t have made a sound. He watched Alfira try to crawl away, try to struggle to her feet, but with a swift kick to her side, he rolled her onto her back instead before kneeling in the dirt beside her, his dagger at the ready.

As a necromancer, Dirge had done her fair share of dismantling bodies only to put them back together, but her skills with a blade couldn’t hold a candle to the sheer ease with which Urami wielded his and took Alfira apart. He moved with brutal, methodical precision that came from years of experience, and even if Dirge had a change of heart and wanted to help the poor girl, not even her skills could’ve saved her.

It was only when Alfira’s flailing and twitching ceased, and Urami relaxed, that she approached him. She knelt down in the blood and dirt of his murder and wrapped her arms around his chest, hugging him close. She rested her head against his back in the space between his shoulders and sighed softly at the heat pouring off him, driving the chill of the night from her bones.

It was over. It was done. There was nothing left to it now except to clean up the mess, and she was nothing if not good at manipulating dead bodies.

********************************************************

Rivers of blood deep enough to bathe in and a throne of skulls haunted his dreams, as well as the dark, lifeless eyes and pale corpse of Dirge, and as he began to stir, he feared his dreams had become reality as the first thing he noticed as he breached into the waking world was the thick, cloying scent of blood and fear. The second thing he noticed was the sticky wetness coating his hands and clinging to his bare skin. It was only when he forced his eyes open and saw the body before him that he felt the first heavenly scraps of relief.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Dirge. It was that tiefling bard whose name he never cared to remember. A deep shuddering sigh of relief escaped his chest.

He didn’t know what god to thank for this, so he’d settle for thanking all of them.

“Are you awake now?” Soft as fresh fallen snow, Dirge’s familiar voice whispered from behind him.

It was only now that he felt it. The tightness of her arms snaked tight around his chest. The warmth of her body pressed against his bare back. The gentle brush of her breath against his scales.

His heart twisted in his chest as he took it all in, as he silently basked in the feeling of her pressed against him. Fear and confusion afflicted him though, and there was only so much comfort he could take from the way she held him so close as his eyes lingered on the corpse in front of him.

What have I done? Does she know? Is she aware? She has to. There’s no way she doesn’t. So why is she holding me like this?

“I don’t… What is…” He struggled to give form to his thoughts and turn them into verbal words. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the body even as his mind repeated the same words over and over again.

Sheknowssheknowssheknows.

Dirge shushed him gently, and tightened her arms around him. Without warning, she ran her fingers down the center of his chest, right over his sternum in a gentle stroke.

Despite himself, he relaxed under her touch.

“It’s alright. Everything is alright.” She whispered against his skin, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that soft sensation he felt against his neck was her lips brushing the sensitive skin. “But if you’re awake now, lets get this cleaned up before the others awaken and see what has happened.”

Urami swallowed hard even as he nodded and turned his attention back to the corpse in front of him. Bits and pieces were strewn everywhere and the blood was soaking his pants from where he knelt by the body. Judging from how wet and sticky he felt all over, he assumed he’d gotten the gore all over him.

Slowly he rose to his feet, and it was only when he did so that she pulled away from him. The moment her arms left him, and she stepped away from his body, he felt a tingling coldness in her absence. His scales itched in protest of her touch disappearing, but he made no move to scratch them or alleviate the feeling in any way. Not when he didn’t fully understand it. Instead he turned to face her, only for her to come around him anyway to inspect the body.

Between the dying light of the fire in the center of the camp and the moonlight streaming from the sky, there was plenty of light for him to see by, but despite that, in the darkness of the night, her deep blue eyes appeared solid black.

It was only after a moment’s examination of the body that Dirge straightened up, and while he expected some manner of fear, or perhaps disgust to cross her face, she seemed entirely unbothered as she raised her arm, and her eyes glowed with an eldritch green light as she focused her magic.

Urami didn’t have to guess what she was doing. He knew enough about necromancy to gather that she was reanimating the body.

Sure enough, just as he suspected, the murdered tiefling picked herself up off the ground, rising to her feet as easily as if she’d just woken from a midday nap, and as if she were merely gathering up her belongings, the tiefling gathered up her internal organs in her arms before striding out of camp.

Urami watched her go with impassive eyes. He knew he should feel some sort of guilt for killing her, but inside he felt nothing. Nothing, save for relief. He was glad it was her, and not someone else. He resisted the urge to flicker his gaze to Dirge.

Yes, it could’ve been so much worse.

Dirge remained silent as they watched the tiefling leave camp, and it was only when she was out of eyesight that the glow left her eyes and she lowered her hand. Now, she turned to him.

“Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get you cleaned up. Even without the body, the others will probably still question the blood, and it’ll be for the best if you’re not covered in it.�� She whispered before gesturing to the stream running alongside their camp.

Slowly, not trusting his voice just yet, he nodded to her words and followed her to the stream. He hesitated at the water’s edge for a moment, staring into the water painted inky black by the night’s darkness before slowly taking the first step into it. A shiver ran up his leg and through his spine at the icy cold water, but he forced himself to take another step, and then another until the water was waist deep. Slowly he turned, and was surprised to see that Dirge had followed him, though she appeared to handle the cold of the water far worse than he did, judging from the tremble in her shoulders.

Still, she didn’t let that stop her from wading out to meet him. She gazed up at him with an unreadable expression once she stood in front of him, and while he couldn’t pick out what she might be feeling from her furrowed brow and strange softness in her dark eyes, he got the sense that whatever it might be, it wasn’t fear.

He couldn’t help how he stared down at her face, taking note of every curve of her face, every stray freckle dotting her temple, one along her jaw, two side by side on her left cheekbone. He committed every detail to memory as if it would be the last time he saw her.

Silently, she began to wash the blood from his body. First the splatters across his chest.

Uncertain as to what to do with his hands while she cleaned him, they ended up resting on her hips. The tips of his claws dented the soft surface of her skin, but he was careful not to press further and draw blood. The very thought of her blood adorning his hands sent a jolt of revulsion through him, a notion the Urge seemed to reject as well.

“Why’re you doing this?” He finally found his voice just as her hands reached up and cradled his face between them, being mindful of the jagged spikes lining his jaws.

“Doing what?” She whispered back as she wiped away a smear of blood from the corner of his lips with her thumb.

With a tense glance back at the slumbering camp, he avoided her eyes. It was hard when he could feel her gaze burrowing into him like a nest of maggots writhing through dead flesh.

“Helping me. You know what I’ve done. If you were smart, you would’ve roused the rest of the camp to deal with me, rather than hide the body and clean up the evidence.”

Her hands stilled against his face, and when he risked a glance back at her, she was frowning.

“I would sooner slit all their throats in their sleep than allow any of them to lay a finger on you, Urami.” She whispered, and though she kept her voice low, there was no hiding the rage in her words.

Urami stared down at her, his grip on her waist tightening almost absentmindedly as he tried to suss out the truth from her expression.

“Why?”

Dirge didn’t respond. Instead, she bit her lip so hard it bled, and as the deep red turned black in the darkness dribbled down her chin, he found himself wondering what it’d taste like.

Almost unbidden the ghost of a memory of dark chocolate and mint came to his mind, so strong, he could almost taste it on his tongue.

Before he could stop himself, he was asking again, “Who are you? And who am I?”

Dirge licked the blood from her lips.

“Like I said, I’m a servant of Bane. You’re a servant of Bhaal. As the Dead Three remain allied, so do we.”

Urami stared down at her silently. She was lying. At least a little bit. She had to be. He didn’t question her further even though he couldn’t get the words out of his mind.

Then why do I know what you taste like?

#bg3 tav #bg3 durge #tav x durge #my writing #thanks so much for the prompt romeo! it gave me an excuse to write this scene thats been living rent free in my head for two months

10 notes · View notes

meowmeowmage · 11 months

Text

Let's write an mHanders fic! Part 5 (poll under readmore)

Masterpost featuring links to all parts: HERE

"Dog pissed in my other pair of boots!" Hawke blurted out, blind panic taking the rein over his mouth, and not for the better. The words were barely past his lips but he already knew exactly how unbelievable they sounded, especially when delivered in a tone of voice that basically screamed 'half-baked lie'.

Anders blinked at him, a bit taken aback by Hawke's reaction. Then his eyebrows shifted in a disappointed frown, and the corner of his lips turned downward a bit, and Hawke felt like kicking himself for bringing that sort of look on Anders's face.

"Dog?" Anders asked, incredulous, "Your very loyal mabari who has better toilet habits than half of Kirkwall? He pissed in your other boots? All three pairs of them?"

Hawke winced. It was an even worse lie than he initially realized. But he could still salvage this! He must!

"Well, uh.., he was really pissed off at me."

Anders's frown deepened. Well, fuck. That definitely didn't work. Who would've guessed...

"That's ridiculous," Anders said tersely, "Do you honestly think I'd believe that? Besides, you have your empty travelling bag with you. You're clearly on your way out of Kirkwall. What I don't understand is why you would lie to me."

'Because I didn't want you to think worse of me' was the truth, but Hawke couldn't say that. He hadn't meant to insult Anders's intelligence but he had done that on top of everything else. He hoped this whole thing was a nightmare, but neither his own mind, nor a demon, could fabricate a situation as ridiculous and terrible as this one. So sadly, this was very much reality.

"I, uh...," Hawke stumbled for words, for explanations, for more lies.

But before he could think of anything, Anders's expression shifted again, sadness and even deeper disappointment flashing painfully across his features. He looked so crestfallen.

"You came to take me on a missions, didn't you? And not to check whether I was alright..."

Oh no.

No no no no-

Hawke took a hasty step forward, but then stopped, uncertain and awkward. This was a disaster, and he couldn't let Anders think he didn't care!

"I knew you were alright!" He said hurriedly, "Varric's informants told me about the raid, ok. It was on the other side of Darktown, so I knew you were alright. But if you were in danger, I would've definitely come to check on you or help you, I hope you know that."

He also dearly hoped that the sincerity of his words was obvious to Anders. And it seemed that it was, because Anders's expression brightened a bit. Hawke sighed in relief.

"Oh," Anders said, sounding a bit sheepish, "I... I'm glad to hear that. But that still doesn't explain why you tried to lie to me."

Hawke swallowed. He really didn't want to talk about it. But if he must, he would tell just enough of the truth, but not too much.

"I, well, I didn't realise I was only coming here on business. I was just trying not to annoy you too much with my presence," Hawke said, rubbing the back of his neck. That excuse could work for friends, right? It didn't show how terribly hopelessly in love he was, right? He hoped not. "But then you pointed out what a selfish ass I've been coming across as, and I didn't want to prove you right, you know..."

Good enough, Hawke thought. A bit pathetic but there was no helping it at this point. And it was all worth it just to see Anders's expression brighten and his lips turn upwards just a bit.

"You could never annoy me with your presence," Anders said.

And maybe it was Hawke's imagination grasping at straws, maybe it wasn't. But he definitely heard softness and affection in Anders's words. Probably more than there was in reality.

"Aha, that's good to know," He said, not a fair amount of awkwardness in his tone. He was pretty sure he was blushing as well. He needed to change the topic, "I don't suppose you want to come with me on a mission now."

Anders sighed and looked around the clinic.

"It's a slow day, so I guess I can spare the time."

Hawke couldn't help the huge grin that spread on his face. And which then quickly wilted when Anders continued.

"And on the way to whatever task you have for the day you can tell me why you were such an ass to Serah Bayron."

"He just rubs me the wrong way," Hawke said, hoping Anders wouldn't dig for details.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you tried to be less hostile towards him. He's one of the decent people in Hightown."

Then Anders proceeded to sing Bayron praises and Hawke had to grit his teeth as not to say something asshole-ish again and get on Anders's bad side.

° ° °

The scene will most likely be short. And then we're off to the Blooming Rose!

#anders #hawke #handers

34 notes · View notes

the-one-who-lambs · 1 month

Text

AO3 Questions Tag Game!

I was tagged by @bamsara (on my main @onethirdofimpossible but most of my readers follow me here for cotl stuff so I'm posting it here)

I tag @i-eat-deodorant and @megsiepoo!

Under the readmore because this is long as shit

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

69 BAYBEEEE

2 – What’s your total AO3 word count?

213,360 words published

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Previously: Pokemon (no longer online), Steven Universe, a few Deep-Sea Prisoner games (Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea, The Grey Garden, Ice Scream)

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Care and Keeping of Eldritch Gods. Until the rewrite of RL/FG is done, this is my magnum opus

Present My first ever CotL fic. This was the first time I'd written fic in like four years and I was dusting off my writing muscles...

Smitten soft narilamb....

Cat(nip) Boy wrote this for shits and giggles in my early fandom days. The One Who Waits on catnip

How Narinder Takes His Tea First part of the old RL/FG series. Though I'm remaking it as a longform multichap fic, I'm keeping up the old series because of the memories + I don't want other people who saved the old one to lose it.

5 – Do you respond to comments?

All the time! I was able to respond to literally every single comment back in 2022, but as last year went on, I realized I probably can't realistically do that anymore. It's a blessing and a curse.

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

We already knew how this would turn out. Title not given directly in my answer in case of spoilers. My readers saw it coming because I had built up to it, but I took my time writing the gradual reveal in the last chapter to make sure it landed the way I wanted it to.

And one more comment I won't post here bc (for anyone who wants to read it) spoils the ending but shoutout to the person who physically felt the shock lurch through their body when the realization hit them after the slow build-up.

As much as I love angsty stories with happy endings, what gets me more are stories that are happy at face value, with endings that are heartwrenching because of the underbelly of what lurked beneath that facade.

7 – What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God. Bit a spoilers below if you're avoiding that

The original wedding fic (as part of the original series) is up, but it's going to get a good polishing in the rewrite. Lambert and Narinder are going to have a private first dance, Thenana and Narinder are going to have a deeper conversation, Ratau's interactions with Lambert are gonna be shown rather than just told, Aym and Baal will be revived.

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Mostly no. There was one time last year that I was compared to another writer in the fandom and slowly asks evolved into "your own concepts are being done better by others" and shit, and the other writer got hate messages as well, and... well, it was a whole thing. Don't wanna talk too in detail about it because I don't wanna beat a dead horse but cotl writers have unionized so we got the last laugh I guess

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lol ya it's on remainderofreality. What "kind?" uh. experimental because I'd never tried the genre before this fandom and it kinda shows but that's okay.

10 – Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Honestly, I'm not really into crossovers! Unless it's Webber in cotl. He can stay, he's cute.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah. It was actually the first fic I posted online, ever. In middle school, I wrote a whole ~100k-ish word self-insert pokemon fanfic, which I wrote by hand in like five composition notebooks, so I never posted that online. But after that I decided to post shorter one-shots for pokemon online, and a few months later I found one of mine reposted without credit. Plagiarized entirely, basically. It scared me and I deleted everything I had posted online, and I don't have extra copies of the works now. :(

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd be okay with it if I was asked beforehand and proper credit was given!

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yeah! Of Duty and Devotion is basically a glorified roleplay between me as Aym, @i-eat-deodorant as Baal, @checkplzjuliet as The Lamb, and @surfdudeboy as Narinder. I also wrote Hide and Seek, a cute little Bishop family one-shot, with @lordiedams (hi Damien I miss you).

14 – What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Narilamb. I haven't focused on a ship for this long, except maybe Rupphire back in the day, but I'm fixated so much more on CotL than I was for SU.

15 – What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Honestly, Of Duty and Devotion lmao. I'm much more focused on my own projects and so are Pavi, Surf, and Juliet. I do want to finish it though.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

Pacing, diction, syntax, getting the intended point across and doing it well. Once I commit to doing something, I don't usually let myself "give up" on it, hence why I barely have any unfinished WIPs. That's a skill honed with tons of practice, though. I have massive ADHD, and I'm bad at finishing things, but when it comes to writing by god I'm gonna do it.

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

I often struggle to get to a point where I'm totally focused in on what I'm writing. It does happen once or twice a month, but honestly, I'm usually so busy with life stuff that I don't get to do that most of the time! I wish I had more time to make room for my hobbies, but alas. At least summer is coming up, and I'll be able to do that more often, hopefully!

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's possible to do it naturally for sure, but I rarely see it done well in fic. I've never attempted it...... or, wait, have I? I guess Thenana's sign language counts, huh? ...I feel like I need to do more research about this topic to answer the question properly.

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Pokemon <3

20 – Favorite fic you’ve written?

The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God or The Care and Keeping of Eldritch Gods.

Risen/Fallen (and the enemies-to-lovers narilamb dynamic) was like the first thing that I did to make a "mark" on this fandom, and I didn't expect it to inspire so many people for sure! But, the first iteration of the series was so rushed. I wrote the whole thing in just over three weeks and averaged one chapter published every day and a half. Now that I have a better grasp on the characters after playing with them for a long while, I get to see my improvement, and I get to see so many friends I've made along the way sticking with me, the revamped "director's cut" version is definitely on track to be my favorite work.

However. It has yet to surpass Care and Keeping. As the oldest of four kids in my family, I based so much of Shamura on my experiences as an eldest sibling, and many of the experiences the younger bishops had in their formative years on our own childhoods. I based Narinder's childhood off of brother #1's (brother who is two years younger than me), Kallamar's childhood on my own, Heket's childhood on my sister's (five years younger than me), and Leshy's off of my youngest brother's (ten years younger than me). This story wasn't just an exploration of the Bishops and their dynamic/relationship pre-canon, it's also a testament to my own love as an eldest sibling... and all the anxiety associated with that, too.

Thanks for tagging me! Back to working on my presentation...

#hannah's rambles #hannah writes

7 notes · View notes

lullaebies · 10 months

Text

I need to get this off my chest about the leaks. Putting under a readmore because I'm just babbling and I really am not looking for discourse.

The thing with Dyana coming back is that it could be okay or really, really bad and the bad scenario where she takes an active role in B&C out of her own will would really signal to me that the writers don't really care about her. Because if Dyana knows and helps murderers go kill children she helped raise, helps them enter into the castle to threaten a girl as 5-7 to be raped just like her, helps them go and torture these kids who are seemingly completely neglected and uncared for by their father and Dyana's rapist... Then what are we doing with it? How is Dyana hurting Aegon in this situation? She's only hurting people that in her mind he doesn't care for, children who she is supposed to have connections with. How is this retribution? They'll end up making a rape victim into a psychopath, for what? Her hating Aegon, her being Team Black and being very in support of Rhaenyra would be 100% okay. It makes sense. Her choosing to help in the murder of little children, to make it look like 'it is deserved'... I wouldn't be able to handle it. The disrespect for rape survivors, the disrespect for a small child's death, the whole pretense of 'the Greens have brought on themselves everything' (and mind you, we could've had it without it! Many people believe B&C is justified already because Aemond killed Luke!) I just. Scream. I don't have much hope for the season, I just don't want her to be used like a moral compass prop when this scenario just does not work for it. I might just be doomsdaying and this is not the vibe they're going for, but its just infuriating to think of.

#hotd leaks #i don't want to argue this is just a vent #so im not tagging more than this #alice speaks

25 notes · View notes

lightdash · 7 months

Text

HI... i finally beat covid & my brain is feeling a bit less mush, so i'm going to try and get into the swing of things here again! also, it's been two weeks since the dlc came out, which means i've gotta barf some thoughts under a readmore;

i've been spoiler conscious so i haven't had much of a chance to scream about it yet, but. But. (grabs you by the shoulders) Listen. i've been mentally comparing the end to dark oak since frontiers came out, because sonic x is in my brain at all times, so you can imagine the reaction i had when THIS HAPPENED,

THAT'S JUST THE SONIC POWER CANNON BAYBEE!! THAT'S SONIC DRIVER i love it, aa so cool... 😭 and CYBER SONIC?! HIS TEETH and the blue is so pretty! he is definitely a love letter to fleetway and i'm very endeared by that — kanemaru-san's voice acting during that scene is just really good too, as usual but i was impressed!! hearing sonic scream like that hurt but.. wow... cool...

it feels strange, i'm having a "two cakes?!" scenario with light's blog now... wondering which ending i want to be canon for him. the original is still the best narratively to me, but i love sonic's friends actually getting to help in final horizon! AND THE GUN AND CYBER SONIC I CAN'T NOT HAVE THAT i think, i might... mix them. so that.. hm,

team sonic still hunts down the emeralds to help sonic. they all meet up at the end of ouranos, and sonic fights supreme.

once supreme is down, the end takes over it's body like in final horizon. sonic fights it, steals the gun, ect ect.

he goes cyber sonic and eggman shoots him out of the gun, but he misses supreme? and goes right through the moon.

enough to wound it but not enough to kill. sonic's free floating through space...

... and sage takes over supreme to save him.

they fight the end together normally, like in the original ending. sage's sacrifice remains in tact and we get the best of both worlds.

i'll write up a proper post for this another time so it's set in stone for light's blog canon but. whew! what a fun addition! i love it and i never want to do master king koco's challenge again thank you xo

#* ∙ ✰ / out of character.#sonic frontiers spoilers #< for the dlc specifically!#tread with caution if you haven't played it #just screaming dont mind me

11 notes · View notes

damnyoupedro · 1 year

Text

Be So Good to You

Roomate!Frankie Morales x reader

Fluff, smut (f oral, p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk if you squint)

2000+words

Frankie and you are roommates and in love with each other, but you're also idiots who don't confess to it

A/N: Both Frankie and reader are in their 20's. Written in both POVs. This is my first time writing in the Pedro fandom. Be kind, rewind reblog

************

The boys were all there: Frankie, Will, Benny, and Santi. You told Frankie you'd be home late so if he'd have a date over she'd text to make sure that she'd be gone. So many of his dates were not cool with Frankie having a female roomie, no matter how many times you explained that they were best friends since childhood. But you could understand. Frankie was a catch. Sensitive, caring, and not to mention gorgeous. Those curls of his were always hidden under that stupid ball cap. Didn't deter the ladies, though. Hell if you just met him, you'd...ok, ok, stop. Those thoughts kept coming up and pushing them back in the back of your mind was getting harder and harder after each failed date.

No girl tonight. You hated the leap of joy you felt. The poker table was set up in the middle of the living room, empty beer bottles strewn around the island, pizza boxes open and empty, and sounds of Metallica blasted from the speakers rudely welcomed you home. You cursed quietly from the high volume of the music as you've told Santi to quit playing it so loud since the neighbors called the cops on him last month, but was silently thankful this one time thinking that you could slip in unnoticed. The last thing you wanted to do was rehash the events of this evening. Wiping a tear from your face, you watched their faces, satisfied none of them would see you sneak from the door to the hallway not ten feet away.

"Baby girl!!" Benny roared. You slumped against the wall, facepalming. Not now. Please, not now. Your footsteps were louder now as you ran to the bedroom, locking the door behind you. The music was off now and you heard all of them talking over each other: "She's home?" "I thought..." "Why..." And then footsteps. Frankie. You knew those footsteps. Falling back on your bed you groaned. It had to be Frankie. Not Santi who would make you laugh. Benny would threaten to drag him in a steel cage until he was a bloody mess. Will who would try to stay calm, but you knew everyone would hold him back. You huffed with a half smile. Your protectors. But no, it's Frankie. He's all of them wrapped in one, plus you like him. You grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Fuck, you loved him.

:readmore:

A soft knock and your name soothingly came out of his mouth. "Can I come in?" You shook your head, more tears falling, your voice trembled, "Frankie, n-not now." But he stayed. Not moving. Finally his head dropped on the door. "Can I bring you something to eat? Drink?"

Swallowing hard, holding your pillow for comfort you whimpered out a 'yeah,' knowing very well he would stay out there the rest of the night if he had to. Throwing your feet over the edge of the bed, you walked on your toes, listening as his footsteps got fainter, then cracked open your door to make sure he was gone. You took this opportunity to go to the bathroom before he came back. A quick wash to the face and you opened the door. Frankie was at the threshold of the doorway holding a plate of pizza and two beers. You sighed slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Two beers? One and I'm going to bed Francisco."

Glaring at me playfully, he raised an eyebrow and nodded to my door. "Pretend you're mad at me all you want. Open. I'm coming in."

"I hate you." You opened your door. He walked in with a charming grin and countered, "You love me." Watching him walk in, those strong broad shoulders, that curly hair you wanted to just tug on, you thought 'more than you know.'

He placed the pizza and beers on your dresser then plopped himself on your bed, grabbing you by your waist, pulling you on top of him. You squealed, taken by surprise. "Damnit Frankie!" You slid off the bed onto the floor facepalming. "Just...stop, please." The tension in the room filled quickly. Frankie's smile was gone. He crouched in front of you, his hands enveloping yours warmly.

"I'm sorry cariño. What happened tonight? Wait." You watched him walk over to the dresser grabbing the food and drink, offering me the pizza, but you gladly accepted the beer from him. Tears welled up, mostly because of the endearment that he always called you. You despised it, wishing you could be kissing him as he whispered it to you.

You shook your head, tossing up your arms. "Is there something fundamentally wrong with me? I know it shouldn't be a big deal, but I haven't been on a decent date for over a year. Loser after loser. Ginger has been trying to set me up for, damn, I don't know how long, but it seems like the guys I end up liking don't call me, or the creeps want a second date." Your head fell on his shoulder.

He put his arm around you, kissing your head softly. Fuck Frankie, don't make this worse. "Don't you know how amazing you are?" "There are three guys in that other room who know you are too."

"Are you trying to cheer me up? Because if my only option is those three bozos, I'm going lesbian." You pushed his arm off you, walking towards the pizza, biting into it, scrunching your nose. "This is cold!"

Frankie slowly stood up, groaning as he grabbed his back. "Damnit. Ok, your highness, let's go warm up your pizza." You bit back a smile watching him limp down the hallway, groaning and mumbling how much he does for you without any appreciation.

"THERE SHE IS!!" Santiago was grabbing another beer from the fridge, reaching in to grab another and handing it to you, to the complaining shouts of the others. "HEY, HEY, HEY NOW," Santi shouted. "She's the prettiest one here. Get your own fuckers."

Frankie draped his arm around your shoulder. "She's the prettiest girl in the world asshole!" He planted a quick kiss on your cheek. Catcalls were coming from the card table afterwards. Benny grinned, "Ohhhh I knew it!! How long have you two been doing the nasty?"

Grabbing the plate from Frankie you hustled to the kitchen but not before looking at him, chuckling. "What month is this?" As you put the plate in the microwave you caught the smirk on Frankie's face and a quick wink. You turned to the sink, back to him, hoping he didn't see your legs shaking as you washed your hands. You would've rather dunked your face under the spigot.

Grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe your hands, you looked over to the guys. All were engrossed in a nonsensical conversation. All but Frankie, who was giving you an unfamiliar look. As if he was seeing you as someone else. He was looking at your lips of all things. You lowered you head to get to his eye level and he broke out of a spell. You grabbed three beers and walked back to them. "Beers for the unfortunate." Will hooted and hollered his appreciation. Benny fluttered his eyelashes. "Thank you pretty girl."

You slapped his shoulder. "Next one's going over your head jackass." Handing the last to Frankie you smiled softly. "Thanks for the talk. It helped."

"I'm always there for you cariño. You know that." His gaze stayed a few seconds too long which made you suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'm uh, gonna go watch TV in the bedroom. Probably won't hear anything out here." You found it hard to look him in the eyes. God all you wanted to do was kiss him after you felt his lips on your cheek. Ok, maybe a little more than that, but you're not a slut.

"C'mon stay. We'll be quiet." He took you by the arm, pulling you towards the couch.

"Frankie, I wasn't even supposed to be here. It's no big deal." Memories of your horrible date came flooding back. You sighed, turning to go.

His brows furrowed together. "Don't." "HEY GUYS! POKER NIGHT IS NOW MOVIE NIGHT!!"

"Damnit Frankie."

"Huh?" "What? Why?" "I'm winning here." There was a pause and I could feel all eyes on me. "MOVIE NIGHT!!"

You glared. "I seriously hate you. I don't want to be out here."

He watched the guys cleaning up then looked at you cupping your cheeks, "And I don't want you to go back to being sad about some asshole who didn't know what an awesome woman he had slip through his fingers."

You tried so hard to be angry with him but he made it so impossible with those soulful brown eyes and the sincere words. "You make it so hard to hate you Morales."

***

By the end of the first movie Benny, Will, and Santi were asleep. "Lightweights," Frankie chuckled as he rubbed my feet.

"How come you're not passed out too? Poker night started early didn't it?" You leaned back and moaned happily. Frankie Morales was a genius with foot rubs.

"It did, but I only had one beer all day. Well, plus the half in your room, but I'm the designated driver." He chuckled as he looked at them spread out on the furniture. "Well, I'll call an Uber and get their asses outta here."

Santi slurred an address to the driver when he arrived and Frankie and you waved them off. "They really should have stayed the night."

Frankie quickly interjected. "Oh hell no! Have you ever heard Benny snore when he's drunk? Louder than a Mac Truck. And Will farts in his sleep."

You snorted. "Well that's something I really didn't need to know."

Frankie smirked. "Just in case you ever thought of going out with him, it's vital information."

As you two walked in the house you shook your head laughing. "I bet you'd give me the bad qualities of all of your friends to keep me away from them."

"Damn right woman, I'm keeping you all to myself."

You closed your eyes and wished he wouldn't say those things to you. Doesn't he know how much you want him? Just be able to...

"C'mon, we have another movie to watch. I'll make popcorn." You watched him practically skip to the kitchen. And the way his back hurts, if you were to say no, it would be like kicking a puppy. You got comfortable on the couch and searched for a movie on Netflix.

"You ever see 'The Bubble' Frankie?"

"No, but I heard it was kinda stupid. Santi said there's a guy in there that looks like me," he shrugged. "Why, you wanna watch Frankie in action?"

"Yup." You got the movie ready to play and stretched out on the couch, waiting for Frankie. He placed the popcorn on the coffee table, and said, "Lift up."

"No." You pointed to the loveseat.

"It's over to the side and I can't see-eeeee," he stomped his feet, whining.

You looked up at him, sitting up. "Oh my God, how old are you?"

"Old enough to get my way." He plopped down and pulled you down, your head on his lap. "Need a pillow?"

"No, your squishy legs do just fine." You giggled as he tickled you. Frankie grabbed the remote and started the movie. When the Frankie look-alike came on the screen you said, "Whoa. He does look like you."

"Are you shittin me? That man is a hot mess." Frankie shoved a huge handful of popcorn in your mouth. "Don't you dare say I look like him."

You spit out the food from laughing too hard. "OK, when you're hung over you look like that. All messy hair, tired looking, all cute and shit."

"Aww, you think I'm cute?" He snuggled you into him and you slipped your arms around his waist. "The cutest Morales."

You kept my arms there for a while until you were fighting a losing battle with your bladder. "Lemme up."

"Huh? Why?" He arched his back letting me slip my arm out.

"Gotta pee." You ran down the hall and shut the bathroom door. Not only did you have Frankie behind you, but you had a chaotic replica on TV. My Lord, this movie kinda sucks but you'd watch it over and over just for this Dieter character. You went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and found Frankie slumped over the island, his hair messed up, looking up at you with drooping eyes. "Will you have sex with me?"

Your heart stopped for a split second until you realized that it was a line from the movie. You chuckled nervously. "God I hope this isn't your pickup line." You opened the water and drank half of it to stop yourself from screaming YES I WILL HAVE SEX WITH YOU!

He rest his head on the palms of his hands. "Didn't answer my question."

You pushed passed him. "Cmon Morales let's finish the movie and go to bed." His eyebrows lifted. "SEPARATELY." He sat back on the couch and you chose to sit at the other end. "Damn what's getting into you?"

He pulled you down, saying your name. "I'm just kidding. C'mon. Get comfy." Pff, get comfy he says. Let me change my underwear then I might get comfy. But you ended up nuzzling into his soft tummy and fell in and out of sleep. You felt his hand running through your hair, causing a small whimper to betray you. You were where you needed to be. Where you were supposed to be. With Frankie Morales.

***

I watched her sleep. She was so beautiful. She is so beautiful. The feel of her hair through my fingers was torture. Knowing that this was the only way I would be able to do it. If she knew how I really felt about her. How much I loved her. That I would do anything for her. She has only thought of me as her best friend, like a brother. She has never given me any hint that she has romantic feelings for me. My head fell back on the couch. I would suffer through walking with a back brace for a month if we could stay like this all night. Force myself to stay awake to revel in it.

She turned and grabbed onto me tighter, a small smile on her face. I prayed and prayed she wouldn't wake. Just looking at her angelic face I couldn't imagine why she had a hard time finding someone to love her. Oh cariño, I would be so good to you. The words "I love you," slipped from my mouth when she lift her head. "Hey sleepy one," I whispered.

She looked up at me, one eye open, confused as to why she was on the couch. "What time is it?" she asked through a yawn.

"Three sixteen cariño." She got up quickly and rubbed her neck. "Ooowwww." "Why didn't you wake me up?"

I shrugged. "What for? It's Saturday. We're not working. You were beat."

"But...geez. You slept like that? With your back Frankie?" She was more angry than worried. "Damnit Frankie, wake me up next time wouldya?" She held out her hands. "Lemme help you up."

I got up slowly, waving her off. "I'm not an invalid ya know. You make me feel like that old woman in the meme 'sure grandma let's get you to bed.'"

She stiffled a giggle. "OK I'm sorry. But we should get to bed." I looked at her as she walked down the hall wishing I could just to hold her in my arms until morning.

***

I simultaneously love and hate watching her come into the kitchen for breakfast. My heart beats a mile a minute as she stumbles in wearing sleeping shorts and an old boyfriend's tshirt. She said it was the best thing she ever got out of that relationship but I still grit my teeth when I see it. He had no respect for her. Then again I never liked anyone she went out with.

But her hair is tousled from sleep, no makeup marring that flawless face and as much as I try not to notice, that woman has the most beautiful legs.

"Bacon, eggs and coffee if you want my dear." The image of her sleeping on me last night still burns in my brain. "Mmhmm," she moaned behind me. I smiled as I poured coffee into her favorite mug: And Here We Fucking Go Again...I Mean Good Morning. Placing her breakfast in front of her, I smiled mischievously, "Get enough sleep?"

"Quit. How's your back Morales?" She asked with a mouthful of eggs.

"You learn to speak in charm school?" After I received the finger for that comment I answered, "Don't worry about me. What are you doing today?"

She looked at me long and hard. I knew her well. She was feeling guilty. I put up my hand, saying her name softly. "I'm fine. I took some Motrin when I woke up and I'm good."

"Damnit Frankie. Just...you should've woke me. Let me make it up to you." Truthfully I wanted to do a repeat of last night but sleeping like that again would put me in traction.

"You're so frickin stubborn, you know that. So what do you want to do?"

"I'll pay for a massage. I know a..."

I stood up from the stool, wincing. "No! I'm not having anyone touch me like that."

She looked at me in horror. "Like what? It's not a whorehouse. It's a spa, idiot!"

"No, I know. Just no. I'll make an appointment with the doctor ok?"

She sighed in frustration. "Pills are not the answer Francisco." She hesitated, looking down then wincing. "I can do it?"

Let her do it? Fuck. I rubbed the back of my neck. This is dangerous territory. A massage would feel great and besides, if I get too worked up, a little relief in the shower would help. It usually does. "Don't you uh, need a table or something?"

She was getting nervous for some reason. "No, no that's for professionals. We can do it on your bed." Her face froze. "I'm just...you know forget I asked. It's dumb."

"No, no, actually that sounds like a great idea. But if you break me, you buy me." She twist her lips, but agreed to do it. I loaded the dishwasher both excited and dreading this moment.

***

You walked to your bedroom. 'I can do it.' Holy mother of Satan what the flyin fuck is wrong with you?! Your face was hot already thinking about a half naked Frankie on his bed. You've seen him shirtless before and yes it was more than you could have ever imagined. Broad shoulders, his pecs were mouthwatering, biceps absolutely perfect...not too muscular, just, in a word...perfect, and the best part: his tummy. That soft fuckin tummy of his. You wanted to nibble on it.

Your name being spoken on the other side of the door awkwardly interrupted your daydream. "I'll be in the, uh, bedroom when you're ready." You were so confused as to why he was hesitant. Damn. It's just me Morales. I'm the one suffering here.

Walking into his bedroom, you felt like you were meeting your maker instead. Frankie left his door open and you saw him laying on the bed, face down, with just shorts on. Damn you'd love to bite that ass. Ok girl, calm down, calm down. He's your best friend. That's all. You silently whimpered as you looked at him. Why can't he love you?

Knocking lightly on the door you greeted him. "You sure you don't want to back out? I've never done this before." Dontsaynodontsayno.

"Are you kidding cariño? I trust you with my life." He smiled softly at you and you just wanted to kiss his stupid face.

"You're too sweet Morales." Straddling his thighs without drooling on him, you stared at his back muscles. Your breath exacerbated. Lord even his shoulder blades were sexy. Blinking hard, you got every dirty fantasy you've had about this man out of your head and cleared your throat. "OK, most of your pain is in your lower back isn't it Mr Morales?" You bit your lip knowing he would comment on that.

Turning his head he said, " I'm sorry is my dad here?" You giggled. "Yes my lower back hurts, which leads me to the question...should I remove my shorts?" He waggled his brows and your eyes widened.

"Damn Frankie could you not!" Your hands were shaking now. "I'm trying to be serious."

He pouted playfully. "OK, I'm sorry. Shorts stay on. Of course they will."

The first contact to his back made him tense but he quickly relaxed under your touch. You rubbed his lower back, putting pressure on both sides. He groaned and you quickly stopped. "Hurt?"

"Oh god no, feels perfect." He stretched catlike and eased onto the mattress.

You felt powerful as you heard his purrs in his pillow. A couple slipped from your mouth as well. God the noises he was making. Twenty-five minutes in, you leaned closer to his ear. "You feeling any better Morales?"

He groaned in pleasure. "Don't call me Morales. Your...Frankie." You momentarily stopped, then rubbed his shoulders. You could barely think as you had this man half naked under you, but what did that mean? 'Your Frankie." The man is probably blissed out and can't comprehend a word you're saying. If you told him you were pregnant with his baby right now, he'd be overjoyed. You were proud at this moment for getting him in this condition.

But you also wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. Frankie Morales was the most perfect man in every way. Kind, generous, loyal, and hot as hell. His eyes were closed and you weren't sure if he was sleeping or not. You began daydreaming as you continued massaging him. The pressure became lighter on his shoulders as you looked down at him. You imagined doing this for him every night when he came home from work to relieve his pain. Even if it was light tender touches. Your heart ached for him. "Be so good to you." It was barely a whisper.

"Cariño." He breathed.

***

Those five words were spoken by the beautiful angel that has captured my heart and in my wildest dreams I would have never thought I'd hear. She tensed above me when I said her given name.

"Y-yeah?"

"Would you like to get off me so I can talk to you?"

"I don't think so?"

I chuckled. "Cariño, we can't stay like this all day." She lift one leg over my back and stood up, walking to the corner of the room like a wounded animal. "What are you doing over there?"

"I...I don't know if I want to hear what you have to say Morales." Her look was guarded.

I walked towards her slowly and tilt my head smiling. "I told you not to call me that anymore."

"You were half asleep."

"I'm your Frankie." Closer and closer I got. "You said you'd be so good to me." My eyes were warm, happiness written all over my face. "How long cariño?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her face and shaky voice betrayed her.

"Yes you do." I approached her as if I was trying to catch a bunny who might run away.

"I don't want to talk about this Frankie. Please?" She looked like I was going to hurt her and I had to stop.

I ran the back of my fingers down her face and felt a tear forming. Tilting my head and smiling softly I asked, "And if I told you I love you?"

"You love me Frankie?" Her eyes welled with tears, looking at me with such hope. I nodded as I caressed her cheek, looking in those beautiful eyes I dream about nightly. "For how long?"

My lips hovered over hers. "A lifetime." Our lips barely brushed. She pressed her lips onto mine and crooned my name. It had never sounded so sweet. Our foreheads touched, her hand behind my neck, running her fingers through my hair. "Frankie..." Her voice was quiet, happy. "I love you so much."

I leaned down to take her bottom lip in my mouth. "Beautiful...bebita." Her knees buckled. A moan came from deep within her throat. "Kiss me Frankie." Her tongue slipped in my mouth delicately, slowly rolling around mine in a torturous dance. My hands pulled her closer by the back of her head, the kiss heated now. Tongues were frantic, her breath huffed in my mouth passionately, her hands gripping my shoulders. "I love you Frankie," she whispered against my mouth.

"I love you bebita." Bringing her hand to my mouth I kissed it, my eyes never leaving hers. "I never thought that this would ever happen."

She lowered her head, biting her lip. When she looked up at me her eyes were doe-like. Her voice was so low I couldn't hear her.

***

"Will you make love to me Frankie?" He tilt his head in confusion and kissed your forehead asking you to repeat yourself. It was hard enough to get it out the first time. You blushed and took a breath. "Will you please make love to me?"

His reaction was mixed: shock, surprise, joy, elation. But he wouldn't say anything. "For heavens sake Frankie, say something. I feel like an idiot." He swooped you up in his arms and kissed you slowly, his breath shaky. "Only if you are absolutely sure bebita." You nodded. "My room."

He kissed you tenderly the entire way, never bumping into the furniture or walls. Very smooth Morales. He placed you on your bed gently and toed of his shoes and socks, while you kicked off your dress sandals. My God you felt like a virgin you were so nervous. Moving a strand of hair behind your ear, he looked at you lovingly. "You doing ok?" You nodded, looking at him in anticipation. Holding out your arms you pulled him down for a kiss. "Never been better."

Frankie lay propped up on his elbow beside you, tracing his finger down your cheek. "We'll go at your pace." Your name was so tender coming from his lips it gave you goosebumps. Taking his face in your hands you pulled him in for a kiss. Sweet, slow and loving, yet your body screamed for him. You yanked on his shirt to bring him closer. He purred your name, the tone of his voice was something you ached to hear, causing you to moan in his mouth, your leg hooking over his. Breaking off the kiss, you asked him to say it again. He obliged your request telling you how much he loves you. Frankie's hands caressed your shoulders and arms. You wanted to take it slow but his touch was electrifying. Rolling on top of him you kissed his neck, licking slowly up to his ear. "Frankieeee, I love you, I love you, I love you." Nuzzling him and sucking his tender skin caused him to groan and he pressed you against him, your hips not flush with his yet. You loved that he didn't try to push you any further.

He moaned pathetically against your hair. "Love you so much bebita."

***

It was torture not to be able to touch her. Her mouth felt so good on my neck. My God I've waited so long for this I don't know if I could last long inside of her. I couldn't help but squeeze her arms at the thought. Inside her wet pussy. My hips moved, my cock ached in my jeans, threatening to burst out. "Fuck. You're driving me crazy." She lift up to pull my shirt over my head. With no immediate attempt to take hers off I betrayed myself by slumping my shoulders. She smiled wickedly and leaned down. "Go ahead baby." My breath hitched. I hooked my fingers and slowly lift her shirt over her head. Her nipples were hardened under a white cotton bra. I licked my lips and waited for instructions. "I'm not stopping you am I?" Her voice was syrupy smooth. My hands reached around her back and as I unhooked her bra, she lift her head, eyes closed, moaning in pleasure. Her full breasts were perfect. I whispered her name in awe, licking my lips. "You don't need permission anymore Frankie. I'm yours." Her eyes were hooded. "Always was. Always will be."

I kissed her lips tenderly. "I'll never be with anyone else again bebita." Nuzzling her neck, I inhaled her intoxicating scene and whispered her name. Licking and sucking love bites on her made a purr come from her throat. "Mmm...you like that?" My hand ran down the opposite side of her neck, traveling down to her breast. Her breath hitched and quiet obscenities escaped her mouth. I caressed her breast as I continued licking her neck, enjoying the effect I had on her. "You're so beautiful cariño." My mouth lowered in between her breasts, both of my hands now on each of them.

"Fuck Frankie." I took a nipple in my mouth. She grabbed my shoulders, writhing beneath me. "Sooo good." Tweaking one and sucking the other had her over the edge. "Need you."

***

His mouth and hands were absolute magic. You needed his tongue in you, on you, his cock. Everyfuckingthing. You bucked your hips, taking his head in your hands. "Please Frankie. Need you so much."

A wide smile crossed his face. "We just started bebita. Don't you want to savor it?"

You raised your hips. Eyes pleaded. "Please take off my jeans. You said we'd go at my pace. We'll savor the next time."

He chuckled as he took the zipper down. "Just so you know, next time will be shortly afterwards. This is going to be a long day...and night."

You put your hands behind your head as you watched him remove your pants. With an arched brow, you smirked. "I'm not complaining here."

He left your panties on and slid back up between your legs. Licking his lips he sighed happily. "Bebita. Been dreaming of this." Frankie smelled you through your panties and fluttered his eyes closed. "Just as I imagined." You bent your knees and he took them off. "Damn you're so beautiful."

Dipping the tip of his tongue into your pussy, taking a long swipe, he hummed in ecstasy. "You taste delicious bebita." You grabbed his hair, tugging at those curls that you've dreamt of doing, and begged for more. He licked slowly, watching your face as he sucked on your clit. He licked through your pussy in circles, over your clit, all around it, up and down, taking his time with the intention to tear you apart. And he was doing a damn good job.

Frankie pushed two fingers in your soaked cunt as he licked you and your head pushed back into the pillow. Whispered obscenities were heard when he pumped his fingers faster. "You're so wet baby. Have you always been this wet for me?"

You nodded emphatically. "Fuck Frankie. Always wanted this. Always wet just for you."

His eyes were mischievous. "You think of me when you were with your loser boyfriends?" He sucked on your clit again and you bucked your hips up to his face.

"Always Frankie. Allll-wayyyys." His tongue moved faster and your body was hot.

"You gonna come for your Frankie?" He sucked harder and you clenched down. Your juices splashed over his face. He drank all that he could, sucking greedily. You shuddered and bucked against his mouth as you silently screamed. The orgasm went on and on. "Taste so good. Need more." How you were able to follow his orders you'll never know but a second one took over your body. "Fuuuuck!" It was more powerful than the first. Frankie grabbed onto your ass and licked greedily through your orgasm. He watched you in awe. "So fuckin beautiful when you come."

***

You barely had time to catch your breath when you noticed he was totally naked and climbed on top of you, his hard cock running across your thigh. "God bebita please tell me I can make love to you."

"Please Frankie." You lift your legs and pulled his body close. He pumped his cock and ran it over your tender clit, eliciting a giggle from you.

You had never seen it before but you felt it inside you. Holy shit, you felt it! Your body bucked up as he slid in with ease, but damn you were not prepared. Fingernails digging into Frankie's back you cursed in his ear. He groaned out your name with an apology. "I should've warned you." He slowed his thrusts and you bit his shoulder, both of you moaning out loud, not really caring about the pain. It was excruciatingly pleasurable. In the best way possible. "Faster Frankie," you pleaded.

"Are you sure?"

You fell back giving him a mischievous look, "Yes Frankie." He bent down kissing your neck. "Vixen." His thrusts were faster. You were thrashing. "Fuuuu...oh shit." He slowed, looking concerned and you furrowed your brows in mock annoyance. "Fuck me I said."

His eyes immediately darkened. "Bebita, that mouth of yours." A smug smile appeared. "I might have to fill it later."

Your eyes widened. Hips meeting his harder, you shook your head playfully. "Francisco Morales, if you want me to suck your cock you just need to ask politely."

His eyes fluttered closed as he stuttered my name. "Shit, I'm gonna come if you keep that up."

"Come inside me Frankie. Fill my cunt up baby and I'll drink your cum later."

He leaned down and grabbed your shoulders. "NNNNNFFFF...." His cum flowed inside me, the grip on you hard as he cursed and said your name. He rolled off of you, his body lay limp. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You giggled. "For what? That was the best sex I've ever had."

"You didn't get to come baby girl." His bottom lip jutted out.

You smacked his cheek playfully. "That's not important to me. Besides, I'm one up on you. So technically I owe you one." "And...it's gonna be one you won't forget," you said with a smirk.

****

I brought back washcloths from the bathroom to clean her. Her eyes were full of desire still. "How many washcloths do you think we're going to use today?"

Crawling over her I nibbled her neck. "I don't know. We might run out." I looked down at my half-hard cock and smirked. "You said you wanted to even out the score." I licked her ear, my breath hot and purred, "Can you fit all of that in your mouth?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as she slid gracefully off the bed and reached for my cock. I flinched then let out an animalistic growl as she teasingly ran her fingers up and down it. "I guess I'll have to find out." Her finger swiped through the precum and she gave me the most vexing smile as she wrapped her tongue around her finger and sucked. Her mouth hollowed as she took the head of my cock in and sucked lightly, moaning in pleasure. I grabbed her hair, my head falling back. "Fuck baby girl."

Slowly dragging her fingers down my length she sought out my balls, cupping them in her palm as she sucked down further. Dragging her tongue up the underside had me moaning her name. "You're so big Frankie." She looked at my cock in awe, licking and biting her bottom lip. Sucking on the head again she hummed, looking up at me. It was the most beautiful sight in the world. Rolling it around her mouth over and over, moaning, rolling my balls in her palm, taking in as much as she could to please me. She pumped the bottom of my cock, whatever she could not take. "Such a good girl." That spurred her on. Her head moved faster, mouth sucking harder, moaning louder. I was amazed. She had a praise kink. "Taking me so well. That's it." She looked up at me, her eyes pleading, she breathed harder around me. Squeezing my balls lightly I closed my eyes and smiled. "Soooo good for me aren't you?" She smiled around my cock. "I'm gonna come bebita..." My balls tightened. "M-mouth?" She nodded with a smile. Rubbing my balls faster sent me over the edge. A tight grip on the back of her head, I spilled down her throat in thick ropes and she took every drop. "F-fuck fuuuck." She sucked the head slowly and deliberately falling back on the balls of her feet.

Covering my face I moaned long and hard, purring her name. "You are perfect in every single way." I furrowed my brows as she walked out of the bedroom. "Where are you going?"

Smirking she looked at me. "Getting water. You're gonna need to stay hydrated if this is an all night session." She walked out the door with a wink.

"God I love that woman."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader fluff #frankie morales x reader smut #be so good to you

96 notes · View notes