#tonight is going to be FUCKERY AT BEST

[toomuchracket]

club nights (literal d word matty x reader smut)

day 16 of summer75!! post-baby, post-dh2 launch fuckery of the anal variety (girly getting it). surprisingly fluffy. enjoy! <3

the lights are hot on your skin as you dance, pulsing strobes illuminating everything and everyone in the club in stark white; still, they're nowhere near as warm as matty, pressed up behind you with a hand on your hip, your left arm slung lazily back around his neck as you move against him. kelly's set is good, and so is the vodka cranberry in your free hand, bass and booze coming together in your body and making you wanna move. you feel free. you feel happy. you feel sexy, although you're not sure if that's because of the night itself or because of your boyfriend, whose hands have been wandering all over you practically ever since you left the house.

you smile when he kisses your neck, giggling when he blows a raspberry. matty giggles too, smiling into your perfumed skin. “y'having a good time, gorgeous girl?”

“the best time,” you turn to face him, heart fluttering when you re-realise how fucking hot he looks. sure, you've fancied matty for almost a decade longer than you've known him, but lately he's been looking extra delicious to you - then again, you have just had his baby. your hormones must be going mental. “we should go out dancing more often, babe. s'fun when i'm doing it with you.”

matty raises an eyebrow, but he keeps smiling sweetly. “we've literally got a newborn at home, and you want us to start raving regularly?”

“yes i do.”

he laughs, leaning down to kiss you; it's not a long one, but you're woozy when he pulls away regardless. “so do i, darling. kinda obsessed with dancing with you like this, you know?” his hands continue their earlier trail across you, gentle yet eager. “can feel everything. fucking love it.”

oh, if he only knew.

you lean up to peck his lips. “could you maybe possibly feel your way to the bar to get me a refill, baby?”

“‘course,” matty pecks you in return, hands coming up to hold your face while he beams. “m'proud of you, you know. for lyla, obviously, but also for this,” he gestures to the crowds, too busy dancing to notice him. “s'your night too, sweetheart. enjoy it.”

you do just that while he slinks off to get your drink, hugging george to say “we did it!”, dancing with charli, catching up with your friends from the band and bea and amber, most of which is spent gushing over your baby girl, staying at home with both of her grandmothers at present. bea squeals when you show her a picture of lyla, and clutches amber's arm, tipsy-overwhelmed. “she is so cute! oh my god. i mean, she looks like a little doll. i love her!”

“bea, i'm actually obsessed with her,” you giggle. “you're lucky we even made it out tonight - got to the front door like five separate times before either me or matty teared up and had to go back for a cuddle.”

amber laughs. “he was telling me he wished he could've brought her with you.”

“god, he's a nightmare.”

“who is?” matty sidles up to you, handing you your drink and ruffling bea's hair - she swats him away, and he laughs, giving amber a half-hug before wrapping his free arm around your waist.

you smile at him, saccharine. “you, trying to bring our baby to a rave.”

“what? she'd love it,” he elbows you playfully. “she's her mother's daughter.”

“he's not wrong with that bit, to be fair,” amber takes a sip of her drink. “it is actually quite scary how much she looks like you.”

bea winks at you. “well, she knows what's good for her.”

everyone but matty collapses into giggles; he glares at bea for a second, then smiles. “yeah, she does. i mean,” he cups your face, squishing your cheeks playfully. “who wouldn't steal this face if they could?” dropping your face in favour of taking your hand, he turns to your friends. “see you in a bit, yeah?”

with that, matty leads you further into a darkened corner, weaving through vape clouds and various friends before leaning against the wall. you smirk, raising your eyebrows at him and leaning close so he can hear you over the music. “this feels… familiar.”

“what- oh,” he nods slowly, smirk matching your own. “nina's birthday. i remember,” his face softens, lost in a memory, before he speaks, matter-of-fact. “first time i ever saw you in red lingerie, that night.”

you choke on your vodka, eyes wide as you try to regain breath. “matthew!”

“what? m'just being honest. you don't forget a thing like that, darling, trust me.”

“christ,” you shake your head. “you're mental, you know that, yeah?”

“you're even more mental,” he bites back, but the love in his eyes is clear even in the club lighting. “having a baby with me, and all.”

“true,” you down your drink and lay the glass down, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's neck for a cuddle; his find home around your waist, lips softly pressing against your hair. “i miss her.”

“me too. mum says she's good as gold, though. which, again, is all you. my perfect girls.”

you smile into his chest. “love you. we both do.”

“oh, i love you both, so much,” matty leans down to kiss you, soft and sweet and slow; there's an undercurrent of lust, though, in the way he lightly bites at your lip and takes his time releasing it. “dance with me?”

you kiss him quickly again. “always, my love.”

and you do. you jump around like maniacs in excitement during george's set, holding hands and giggling and singing along, and when you shriek with total joy as soon as you hear yeah i know, matty cackles and pulls you close for a kiss. you stay like that for the rest of the song, wrapped around each other while you move to the beat, matty's face tucked into your neck in an adorable mixture of shyness at hearing his own voice and emotion about his best friend in the whole world taking such a big step in his career; actually, you stay like that for the rest of the set, so close it's hard to tell where matty ends and you begin, bodies grinding and sparking heat in each other in both the literal and metaphorical senses. by the time the night ends, the two of you are pretty fucking desperate for each other, kissing so sloppily while sharing a cig at the taxi rank that your friends can't help wolf-whistling and cheering and throwing digs like “oh, lyla's about to get a sibling!” at you.

you kiss in the taxi, too, little snippets of snogging and matty's hands roaming all over your thighs in between the driver yapping about this that and the next thing on the way to the hotel. matty does his best to answer politely, reluctantly breaking away from your lips to talk while you giggle behind your hand, but his exasperation is obvious - naturally, you rip the piss out of him for it when he throws you on the bed and climbs atop you to kiss you properly. “babe, i'm not going to disappear if you unattach your lips from mine for a few seconds, you know.”

he licks your nose in response, smiling when you shriek. “how else am i meant to show you how much i love and also fancy you?”

you shuffle down to kiss his neck, enjoying the way his breath shakes, dragging your lips up past his jaw to whisper in his ear. “fuck me.”

“oh, baby,” matty sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “i wish i could, but, y'know… it's still too soon after you gave birth, darling,” he pulls back, confusion etched on his pretty face. “what are you smiling like that for? that's your sneaky smile.”

it drops, in favour of an expression of bewilderment. “my what?”

“you know, the face you make when you're up to something,” your boyfriend cocks his head, squinting at you. “are you trying to get me to fuck your mouth?”

“nah.”

“tits?”

“that would actually be a lot of fun, but also no.”

“hmmm,” matty thinks for a second, then sighs - you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at how clueless he's being. “nope, you've got me. explain, please, darling.”

“if you let me stand up for a second, i can show you what i mean.”

matty nods, rolling off you and lying propped up on his elbow while you move off the bed. he groans when you start undressing, slipping out of your cargo trousers and shucking your top off without breaking eye contact with him. “fuck, princess, you're so hot,” he claps a hand over his mouth when you raise an eyebrow at the pet name. “sorry, darling. muscle memory, i s'pose.”

“s'alright, daddy,” you wink, turning away from him to let him get a good view of your ass in your sheer panties; you bend forward, slightly, and you hear his breath hitch. “seems we're both thinking along those lines, yeah?”

it takes him a second to respond, but when he does, it's delicious - a calloused finger traces up from your slick core towards your other hole, and he speaks in a whisper. “you're plugged?”

“yeah, i am,” you toss your hair over your shoulder and your gaze follows, focusing on your wide-eyed boyfriend. “because i want you to fuck my ass tonight, matty.”

for a moment, there's silence, a tension permeating the air that you can't quite name. nerves begin to flutter in your stomach; they're dissolved almost instantly when matty flops unceremoniously onto his stomach, almost inaudibly shouting “fuck!” into the fancy bedding before rolling back to face you with defiant lust in his eyes. “you serious?”

“wouldn't have the plug in if i wasn't.”

he sighs, then smiles almost shyly. “part of me thinks i should be against this, but,” he sits up, tugging you to stand between his legs with a kiss to your stomach. suddenly, you're on his lap, and you can't stop beaming - he is so fucking hard. “who would i be if i didn't give my princess what she wanted, especially after everything she's done for me lately?”

your heart soars, and all you can do is kiss him, an absolute head-melter of a kiss that only stokes the heat between your legs, makes you grind even harder against your boyfriend than you were in the club. “thank you, daddy. love you.”

“i love you,” matty smiles against your lips. “missed you calling me that, you know.”

“more than you've missed being inside me?”

he laughs, the soft chuckle he reserves for the two girls he loves most in the world. “nothing i've missed more than that, gorgeous. can i… now?”

“yeah,” you breathe, desperate. “how do you want me?”

matty thinks for a second. “lie on your back for me, sweet girl, get comfy. that sound alright?”

“perfect,” with a final little kiss, you climb off him, shuffling up to rest your head on the plush pillows. as you undo your bra, the fluttering restarts in your stomach; instead of nerves, though, the butterflies are borne of excitement as you watch matty undress. he looks inquisitively at your weekend bag, and you know what it is he wants. “the lube is in the side pocket, by the way. packed a bullet vibe, too, but i honestly don't know if i'll need it.”

your boyfriend hums happily, climbing back onto you, bottle in hand. “so turned on you only need daddy fucking that pretty ass to make you cum?” he coos, thumb sliding across your lips - when you take it between them, he beams. “my little slut.”

god, you've missed this. “only yours. always.”

“perfect girl,” matty murmurs. “gonna fuck you now, yeah? you know your colours.”

“yeah.”

“good girl,” he sits back, tapping your thigh as a sign for you to lift your legs so he can slip your underwear off. his pupils dilate at the sight of the plug, but a sweet smile appears on his lips. “brat green jewel?”

“couldn't not buy it - oh, fuck,” you whimper as matty begins to toy with the plug, every movement sending a burst of pleasure through you. “feels good.”

“yeah? can i take it out, princess?”

you nod enthusiastically. “please. want you inside me, daddy.”

your boyfriend swears under his breath, snapping open the bottle of lube and squeezing some onto his hand; you watch with proper interest as he slicks himself up, practically drooling at the sight of him essentially wanking himself off. he grins when he notices you staring. “you're cute, baby,” he leans forward to kiss you, trailing a hand down your body to play with the plug again. “reckon you'll be even cuter taking my dick, though.”

it isn't so much a word than a whine that leaves your lips. “please.”

“alright, darling,” looking carefully at your face, he begins to gently twist the plug out of you - when you whimper, he pauses. “this okay?”

“yes, yes,” you pant. “keep going, please.”

matty nods, obliging you quickly; you feel the plug pop out, and he moans. “fuck, princess, you look so pretty, all ready for me like that. are you ready, sweetheart? what's your colour?”

as if it could be anything else. “green.”

he beams, kissing your forehead. “good girl. my best girl,” he coos, smiling when you giggle deliriously. “gonna slip in now, alright?”

“hold my hand?”

“always,” he takes your right hand in his left, kissing it before holding it on your stomach. you watch, breathless, as he takes his dick in the other hand, tentatively nudging it against your hole - as the head eases inside you, stretching ever so slightly, you exhale, stuttered, and matty looks tenderly down at you. “oh, my darling,” his voice is just as shaky as your breath, little whimpers leaving his lips the more he inches - well, centimetres - into you. “colour?”

you can barely comprehend him, the intimacy of the moment combining with the pleasure and clouding your brain. but still, you answer, voice nothing more than a whisper. “green. please don't stop.”

“okay,” he breathes, hand moving to your hip to steady himself. “almost fully in, princess. taking me so fucking well, feel amazing.”

you beam, dazed. “good,” your jaw drops as he finally bottoms out, eyes fluttering closed. “oh.”

“i know, darling, i know,” matty caresses your face. “d'you need a second?”

“yes please.”

“anything you want,” his lips find yours, the sweetness of his kiss completely incongruous with the fact the two of you are literally doing anal right now. but it's not totally innocent - matty's lust for you is clear from the way he kisses, and it energises you enough to pull back and bite your lip at him, a silent hint that you're ready for the next step. he takes it immediately. “you want me to fuck you properly, now, princess?”

you nod, doe-eyed. “yes, daddy.”

and that's exactly what he does.

it starts slow, of course, matty gently thrusting into you with his arms braced on either side of your head and his lips pressing soft kisses all across your face; when the desperation gets too much for you to bear and you give him the go-ahead, though, he begins to roll his hips with a bit more force into yours, little gasps leaving both of your lips and foreheads touching tenderly. you don't know whether or not it's purely psychological, more to do with the eroticism and intimacy of the act than the actual sex itself, but you can feel the pleasure jolting through you every time matty's hips meet yours, travelling through your nervous system to the familiar place in the pit of your stomach.

all in all, you can't remember ever being so turned on in your life. matty seems to think so, too, eyes widening when he looks down to watch your bodies joining as one. “fuck, princess, your pussy's so wet right now. can feel it dripping on me,” his voice is joyous; so are you, when he runs a finger over it and settles it at your clit. “you really needed daddy to fuck you, didn't you, sweet girl?”

“yeah.”

“needed this too, darling, so fucking much,” matty smiles sleepily above you, kissing you sloppily. “fuck, need to make you cum, too. can i?”

you smile back, equally as fucked. “can do whatever you want to me.”

he laughs, breathy and beautiful. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you pout for a kiss, smiling and gasping into him when he starts to properly work your clit with two fingers. “mmm, just like that, yes. don't stop.”

thank fuck your boyfriend isn't feeling mean tonight - he does as you say, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips and a consistent pattern with his fingers, cooing praises and promises into your neck in a determined attempt to get you off. a successful attempt, too, it turns out; within a few minutes (although your grasp on measuring time is probably dire at present), you're clutching at matty's shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck, crying into him as you hurtle towards the precipice of orgasm. with a whimpered plea of “cum for me, princess, please”, you fall into bliss, clenching vice-tight around matty's dick and shaking like a leaf. that's enough to set him off, too, and he cums with a hoarse groan and an “oh, i fucking love you”, hips growing weaker and weaker as his orgasm wears off.

he doesn't linger afterwards, though. as soon as he can physically do so, matty's pulling himself up to hover over you, looking intently into your eyes to check how far you've slipped into subspace. despite the gravitas of the night, you're fairly lucid, and he smiles, satisfied with that, as he strokes your face. “you,” he begins. “are a fucking dream.”

“stop it,” you giggle, trying to burrow into his chest. “you're pussy-drunk. well,” you correct yourself as matty laughs. “not quite, tonight. but you know what i mean!”

“i do know, darling, i do,” he kisses your nose. “but you really are incredible. and i'd say that even if i wasn't balls-deep in your ass right now, so…”

“oh my god.”

matty laughs. “my cue to pull out?”

“i think so, yeah,” you grin. “mostly cos i wanna shower and go to sleep, honestly.”

“whatever you want, my love - hold my hand, by the way, this might feel weird… there we go,” matty winces, in tandem with you, as he slips out. his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of his cum dripping from you. “never ever gonna get over that,” he leans back to kiss you again. “thank you for letting me do that, by the way, darling. m'the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

you laugh. “and don't you forget it!”

he smiles softly, and you fall in love with him all over again. “never gonna happen.”

[bougiebutchbinch]

God I'm such a sucker for dom/sub edizzy where Ed enjoys domming because he gets to come up with endless fun 'fuckeries' (or.... scenes), and Izzy enjoys subbing because he's fucking gaga for Ed in all his Whacky Weirdness (affectionate), and god DAMN, this stressed-out little chihuahua-man needs to turn his mind off and just exist.

But it gets stale, eventually.

Ed is the flavour of neurodivergent that needs endless variety, whereas Izzy is the flavour of neurodivergent where everything needs to be the same forever, please, or I will have a nervous breakdown. Plus, neither of them have any idea how to manage each other's emotional needs!

Ed topdrops HARD. He requires a lot more aftercare than Izzy, but Izzy is kinda awkward and embarrassed about giving it, and is definitely awkward and embarrassed about needing it himself.

It's like, the 1700s. Neither of them have read 'the new bottoming/topping book'.

So, obviously, things crumble.

To the point where one time, they're setting up a scene, just going through The Familiar Motions (which to Izzy are such a source of comfort, and to Ed a source of growing torment) when Ed reaches his emotional broiling point. He crumples to the floor in tears, tugging at his hair, tearfully confessing to Izzy that he can't do this, he can't, he can't -

Cue Izzy panicking, tied to the bed, halfway to subspace already, now jolted out of it and adrift in a tidal wave of brain chemicals, his only thought what the fuck did I do wrong? Is it me? Is he tired of me?

(because deep down, he's been afraid of that for some time)

But his captain obviously needs something. And Izzy's gonna try his best to give it.

He's tied up to all four bed posts. He can't move, can't fucking get to Ed to stroke his hair and kiss him and do all that other soft shit he should hate a whole lot more than he does. But he can flop back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Coralling his spiralling thoughts.

He has to hold it together, for his captain. Has to do this, for him.

"C'mere, Eddie," he says, but his voice is all broken and scratchy and weak, so he clears his throat, tries again. "Eddie. Here."

And Eddie, snivelling, underlip trembling, comes. All dressed up in his leathers, beard big, shoulders broad, looking the very part of Blackbeard. Except for his tear-filled brown eyes - which are looking at Izzy so fucking warily, like Ed expects him to give him a fucking scolding.

And - yeah, maybe if this had been in the middle of a firefight, Izzy would've. But it's not. it's just the two of them, together, and right now, hurting Eddie is the furthest thing from his mind.

"What d'you need?" he asks, all gruff. Tugging at the ropes, rough hemp chewing on the tender insides of his wrists.

Ed gives a petulant little shrug. Fucker. Izzy's not a mind reader; he can't just intuit...

But... maybe he can. Ed's shoulders are shrunken, his spine stooped. He looks like a wet fucking cat. Pathetic. Useless. All the things the great Blackbeard should never be.

But Blackbeard is a myth. Eddie's a man. And Izzy knows better than most, how men can act as one thing and deep down, be another.

He thinks of the moments when he feels so fucking small and useless and broken. How Ed makes him feel good... And, glancing at the persistent bulge in Eddie's tight leather pants - how neither of them have said the word they agreed on, that'd bring this whole farce to a close - Izzy knows just what to do.

He licks his dry lips. Either this works, or Blackbeard snaps and kills him. Luckily, Izzy's always liked the thought of dying at his captain's hand.

"Wanna be mine tonight, Eddie?" he asks.

Ed's eyes go wide. Then narrow. Whole fucking face journey, mashed into a couple seconds: surprise, anger, fear, relief. Izzy waits patiently for him to settle, gripping the ropes that hold him spread-eagled for his captain's attention. Heart fluttering in his chest like he's staring down an oncoming enemy battalion: outgunned, outmanned, but still hungry for the fight.

"C'mon then," he says, nodding to where, despite it all, he's still half-erect too, bare cock plump against his scarred thigh. "Up here, there's a good b-boy."

His voice almost breaks on the last word, every instinct screaming at him not to demean his captain in the way he likes to be demeaned. Ed's so much better than him, brighter and sharper and fucking brilliant; he's not so weak as to need this. Or at least, he shouldn't be. Right?

But it's hard to focus on that when Ed crawls over him, danger in every movement, sleek and lithe as a jaguar. Fucking beautiful.

Then he ducks his head to bury in Izzy's neck, over his swallow tattoo, and nods.

"Good boy, telling daddy what you want," Izzy whispers into his hair - the same words Ed was supposed to say to him, when all this was over. He feels his captain sigh against his swallow and go deliciously slack.

It ain't what Izzy likes, as a rule, but for Ed... for Ed, he'll do damn near anything.

...Then Izzy gives Ed a healing dommy sloppytoppy, all while still tied to the bed, Ed crying while he rides him into the mattress. They hug after and hold each other, but not for nearly as long as they should. And everything hurts like an infected wound, but they can't stop picking at this thing they call a relationship until it scars.

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon "Ghost" Riley X

Medic!Reader (Part 7)

Word Count - 4.7K

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn. This chapter describes scenes that some people may find disturbing, such as war crimes, mutilation, and death.

A/N - This chapter is tuff ngl.

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 6

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

“Better,” Ghost said from somewhere at your side, his attention divided by watching you practice your throwing knife skills and cleaning his rifle, “But stop flicking your wrist, it’s unnecessary.” 

Since you arrived here Ghost had dedicated a surprising amount of time to teaching you how to throw a knife. Your aim was still off and you had the occasional miss, but you were improving. He’s had you standing in front of the piece of wood for the last hour throwing the knives he’s so graciously let you borrow, picking them up and doing it all over again. He was a good teacher, but a tough one. Not even you could be spared from his hazing lectures of form and technique. And on more than one occasion you stomped off on him in frustration, only to sheepishly return after some time to restart after cooling off. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression bored, “Are you even watching?” 

“Yes. Now, throw,” he instructed, dark eyes flicking up to you, and when he saw that you were still looking at him he twirled his finger in a “turn” gesture. 

With a sigh, you turn back around and aim at the center of the target painted into a wooden board. You lined yourself up, your tongue instinctively sticking out, a habit you had since you were a child when in focus, and threw the blade. The handle banged off the board and clanged to the ground. 

“I just told you to stop flicking your wrist,” he commented as he slid ammo into one of his magazines. 

You spun on him, annoyance twinging your tone “You come over here and throw one.” 

He placed the magazine on the table beside him and strode towards you with a confidence you envied, plucked the blade right out of your hand and threw it. It embedded itself deep into the wood. Right in the middle. He held his hand out for another. Again, it landed in the middle with a satisfying thud. Impressively close to the first. He threw two more and only one of them wasn’t a bullseye instead it landed in the next ring. 

You clicked your tongue, “Alright,” you pushed him back towards his guns and ammo, “Go away.” 

For the last two days, it’s done nothing but storm, and everyone has taken shelter in the warehouse where there was still a working heater. But now that the nightly meeting and dinner had been served, everyone was headed back for the bunks for the night. The emotions have been running high the last few days and the weather was making it even harder to get things done. Soap was trying his best to keep up morale, but even he grew weary of waiting. Price and Gaz had gone on recon today to check out the town and came back with the news that the military was pulling out. Laswell was less than thrilled to have the entire team invading her space while she tried to work. 

She, out of all of you, felt the pressure the most.  

Tonight it was your turn to take the night watch, and Ghost stayed behind until midnight to keep you company. He even went on the few patrols he was with you for, “You never talk about your family,” Ghost clutched at his rifle as he strolled beside you, purposefully shortening his stride so you could keep up.

“Well, I could say the same about you,” you knock your shoulder into him, trying to come off as playful but in truth the last thing you wanted to do was unpack the fuckery that was your family. 

“That’s because I’ve got skeletons in my closet,” he shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about it. You’ve become accustomed to his casual attitude; where normal people would become skittish with that type of admission, he wasn’t. 

You hummed, inching closer to him. Even in the rain his body heat radiating from him. 

“Well,” you started, chewing on the inside of your cheek as unease rippled through your gut, “My parents divorced when I was sixteen. My mother is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. She used to take me to the theatres every Sunday for the matinee.” 

“And your father?” He asked carefully, sensing your hesitation on the matter. His attention was on you but he made it less intense by looking off into the darkened shadows of the trees beyond the fences. 

“He’s…” your throat narrowed at the memory of him, of his hardened face and emotionless eyes, “He’s the worst man I’ve ever met. And I was his favourite,” you wrung your fingers, the tips of them going numb from the cold air, “He’s estranged now and I haven’t heard from since the divorce.” A lie. You knew exactly where and what he was doing. You also knew he kept a close eye on you and yours. “My mom has since remarried. To a guy she went to high school with, it’s quite adorable,” 

“Any siblings?” He asked as he opened the door to the warehouse for you. He didn’t push for more information, understanding that were some things better left unsaid.

“Two,” your heart skipped a beat, “Both significantly older. But one of them died when I was in high school. A car accident,” you didn’t give any more detail than that. Didn’t think you could handle dredging up old wounds. 

You silently thanked Simon for not giving you a half-hearted “I’m sorry” at the mention of your dead brother.

You told him about your childhood friends, and about the sports you played. You told him about how your brothers used to have epic fights in the backyard, and how one of them had ended with your father making them run laps at the track until one of them collapsed and the other threw up all over the grass. 

Ghost quietly listened, adding little comments here and there. He just liked hearing you talk and would sit here for hours completely content with doing just that. 

As soon as the clock struck twelve a yawn interrupted him mid-sentence and you sent him off to bed. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll keep out of trouble. But you were up last night for your watch, you need to sleep,” you shooed him out the door. Before stepping out the door he turned to you, bending down to catch your lips with his. It was a quick, innocent gesture, and the boyish grin of his that accompanied it was even more so. 

The rest of the night was fairly tame, but your raincoat never seemed to dry and you were forever cold. Gaz had pulled out a space heater at some point but even that couldn’t seem to thaw your frozen bones and muscles. What you really wanted was a hot shower. Or even better, a bath. You’d grown weary of the cold showers. 

The silence and isolation of the night watch were welcomed. It gave you time to think and to work through your ever-flowing thoughts and emotions. You were beginning to wonder what comes after this. If you were labelled as deserters, would they just “let” you get back to your normal job once you exposed Spector? There were so many questions and you were too afraid to find out what the answers would be. Would anyone even believe you guys? 

You spent the rest of the night trying to distract yourself before you found yourself spiralling. You reorganized the makeshift kitchen area, sewed a rip in your jacket pocket, and read the first few chapters of a particularly boring book Gaz had brought with him. You had quickly become thankful for the hourly strolls outside.     

“What are you doing up?” You asked, setting your rifle down, having done a patrol. It was a little past 4 am when you returned to find Soap lounging on one of the chairs at the makeshift table. 

His cheery blue eyes found yours, “Thought I’d come and keep you company.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you took a seat across from him, fiddling with a propane lamp before lighting it. 

He yawned and stretched out his arms above him, “Have you been able to?”    

You shook your head. Truth is, you haven’t had a good sleep since you got blown up. You grabbed a deck of cards someone had left on the table for everyone to use, “You shuffle,” you said, handing it to him. With practiced hands, he shuffled and dealt out a hand of canasta. 

He won the first round, and he sighed, “One more game, I’m starting to feel bad for you.”  

“Laswell find anything?” you asked. Laswell had left to meet up with one of her contacts and wasn’t going to be coming back until tomorrow.

“Not really,” he scratched at the growing beard on his face, and exchanged a card from his hand, “She’s stressing. So is Price.” 

“I don’t blame them,” you murmured. If you were going to ask anyone and not fear that they’d think you a doormat, you were going to ask Soap, “Are we still going to have our jobs once we figure all this out?”  

He blinked at you, “Our job?” then his expression softened in realization. You’d been uncharacteristically recluse these last few days and everyone had noticed it. And Soap was just relieved to have finally understood why that was, “When we find that bastard Spectator and pull his pants down in front of the brasses we’ll be handed medals.” He leaned back in his chair and it creaked against his weight, “There are, of course, probably going to be some legal measures that will need to be addressed, but when are there not? A few years back we were being hunted down by every allied force for ‘espionage’.” He rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the idea. “We’ve got our hands tied behind our backs a few times, and yet they haven’t gotten rid of us.” 

The looming misery that had been breathing down your neck for the last few weeks backed off at his answer.     

“That makes this a little less stressful,” You wished there was more you could do, but none of this was your specialty. “You want tea?” the chill you developed from your patrols was becoming unbearable. You got up to heat up water in a pot on the propane stove before he could answer. 

“Absolutely,” he replied. 

You turned back towards him just in time to catch him trying to peek at your cards, “Are you joking?” you threw up your hands in disbelief. You’ve played a lot of cards with Soap in the last two weeks, and never once did you win against him. Now you know why. You tossed a tea bag at him.

He slid back into his seat with a sheepish grin. 

“I’m not making you tea anymore,” you glowered over at him, “You can make your own.”

You cracked open the door to take a peek outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the ground sodden with water. It smelt like fresh earth. An hour later Ghost joined the two of you, claiming that Price was snoring so loud that he woke up thinking someone was attacking him with a chainsaw. Soap asked if he cared for a game of cards to which he curtly replied with a very stern, very definitive “No, you little crook.” 

After a brief discussion, you and Ghost decided it would be as good a time as ever to check in on the town. He wanted to scope it out to see if the military had pulled out yet. You wanted to check in on the school. 

The drive into the town was silent, the pit of your stomach was turned inside out. Your intuition screamed at you that something was wrong. 

Thick fog clung to the trees and made the drive more unsettling.  

A strange pungent smell invaded the cab of the truck a few miles back from the town. It smelt like smoke and something else you couldn’t place a finger on. The smell got stronger and stronger the closer you got, to the point where you shoved your nose into the collar of your shirt. 

“Ugh,” your eyes began to water, “What is that?” 

A large dark form lay on the side of the road as you turned a corner and Ghost slowed the vehicle, his hand dropping to the pistol at his thigh.   

So he feels the unease too. 

That thought alone was alarming. 

As you rolled forward confusion clouded your thoughts. The corpse of a horse was left in the ditch. Its brown coat stained darker in some spots—with dried blood. From the looks of it, this happened days ago.

“They killed off all their livestock,” Ghost grumbled, his attention fixed on something ahead of us. You followed his gaze. The herd of cows he passed every day we drove into town was left to rot in one of the fields surrounding the town. Their bodies are already half-decomposed. In their state, it was obvious this occurred days ago. 

“Isn’t this a war crime?” 

He nodded, features hardening. 

You wondered why no one had tried to dispose of them. 

In fact, as you neared, there wasn’t anyone around. No passing cars or people walking their dogs. 

As the town came into view, and the fog fell away from the buildings to could better make out the shapes hanging from the sign. You squinted, leaning forward. Your blood ran cold, “Riley–”

“I see it,” he grunted.

Three bodies hung from the town's welcome sign. The faces were mottle shades of blue and grey. Hands tied behind their back and feet bound together. Two men and one woman. They had died long after the cattle. Their clothes and hair remained dry, despite the last few days of rainfall. 

Ghost nodded his head towards the woman, “That’s my informant's wife.”    

If you hadn’t known him as well as you did you would have thought him indifferent to the sight but guilt lined the edges of his words. 

You looked back to the women and your stomach rolled. Her neck bent at an unnatural angle, “Did–” you shook your head in disbelief, “Why would they do this?” It was hard to believe that the same army you fought for could do something like this. Something so animal. 

Beside you, he didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the empty streets, finding nothing and no one. 

“Take me to the school,” you breathed, worry piling up inside you. 

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to argue but thought better of it. 

He rolled to a stop just outside the school, his brows furrowing, “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” 

You nodded, but you couldn’t find it within you to smile at him.

“You just need to click twice on your radio and I’ll be right back,” he was going to go check in on his informant. If his wife was dead, the probability that he was too was high.  

He waited for you to enter the building before he pulled out and went on his way.   

The school was desolate, no single child milled about. No teachers lined the halls. It was a school day, you were sure about that, yet no one was around. 

You followed the now-familiar path to the classroom at the back of the school. Peaking into empty classrooms on the way there. 

Your hands shook as you reached the door to the classroom, and eerie silence on the other side. You knocked but the door wasn’t shut properly and creaked open. The lights were off, and no voice answered from within as the sound of your approach. You swallowed the lump in your throat before pushing the door completely open. 

The room was empty. Yesterday's date is still etched in chalk on the chalkboard. 

Along with the angry rushed words, “Your sympathizers will be killed.” 

You didn’t need to ask to know those words were meant for you. You looked around the room once more, searching for any sign of life. But the room was nearly spotless, there was no blood, no sign of a struggle. Textbooks and pencils still lay on the desks of the students, ready for their next lesson. 

You picked up one of the books, examining it. 

Something outside caught your attention, a flash of a silhouette as it rushed across the courtyard.

You peered out the window and into the courtyard in hopes of seeing who was out there.

The breath wooshed out of your lungs, and the textbook in your hand slipped from your grip. You didn’t even hear it fall. 

Outside, hand-tied above their head to a wooden post was what was left of a female body. There wasn’t much left of her but the chard-blackened flesh. Gone was her scent of rosemary and pepper. Gone was her soft voice and youthful face. 

A hand flew up to cover your mouth as bile rose up your throat. 

The door behind you creaked open and you spun, hand going for your gun. 

A small familiar figure appeared, her usually emotionless face tear-stained. When she caught sight of you her face contorted into one of distrust and hate. 

It was the girl you had been helping heal the wound on her arm. 

Then she was rushing at you, her slim fist slamming into your armoured chest, her voice cracking as she yelled up at you. She kicked her feet out at your shins and ankles. You couldn’t understand her but her face revealed what she was saying. There didn’t need to be a language barrier to know what she was calling you. What she was saying. 

“This is your fault. You killed her. You’re a monster. A killer.” 

There was no doubt that her screams would draw attention if anyone was still here. You covered her mouth, hushing her. She trashed against you, nails digging into the exposed skin on your wrists. Her feet stomped on yours. 

Voices echoed down the hall and the both of you froze. Wide eyes connecting in dread. She stopped breathing entirely. You lifted a finger to your lips, prying she’d remain silent. Slowly and as quietly as you could you brought her to the windows, opened one of them and signalled for her to slide out. Her brows furrowed with skepticism but she obeyed. 

I was the lesser of two evils in her eyes.     

“Run,” you whispered to her, palming a throwing knife into her hand and she climbed out the window. 

She didn’t turn back to look at you as she sprinted to the other side of the building. You watched as she hesitated before running past the brutalized body of her teacher. You watched her dip out of one of the many doors. 

You tore yourself from the window and the scene beyond it, wishing you could at least cut her down from the post. 

But there was someone else here. 

You crept back out into the hallway, following the same route to the main foyer, trying to avoid the direction the voices came from. 

Wrong. 

At the end of the hallway were two men, their attire and the patches on the side of their arms making it obvious that weren’t here to be friendly. You considered ducking back behind the corner but they had already seen you. Their concealed faces snap towards you. 

Your hand reached for this radio at your shoulder and clicked it twice.  

“What are you doing here?” one of them called out, his head tilted to the side trying to get a better look at you. There was no way in hell you were going to get away with pretending to be a local. You were decked out in a bulletproof vest. Instinctively, your hand dipped for the pistol at your thigh but stopped short. They weren’t the enemy, they were here following orders. 

You cleared your throat, “I was told to meet the lieutenant here,” you could only hope they didn’t ask for a name.

They shared a look, the postures stiffening, before turning back to you, “Lieutenant, Smithers left yesterday morning.”

Welp.

You pulled one of the knives Ghost had given you earlier this morning from its sheath, “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” you swore. 

But it was too late, and this was going to be a short-lived fight. You were outnumbered and outmuscled. You could only hope you would be able to hold them off until Ghost got here.  

The first one moved quickly, and you flung the blade in his direction. You were aiming for his throat but missed. It landed in his shoulder, which worked well in slowing him down but wasn’t going to put him out of this fight. The second one closed in on you, throwing a dangerous left hook that for sure would have knocked you out cold if you hadn’t sidestepped him, now behind him you kicked out at the back of his leg. His momentary loss of balance was enough for you to drive your knee up into his face. Bone cracked, and his nose immediately started spewing blood everywhere. 

The first guy was still recovering from your knife, but he was still more than capable of doing major harm once he regained his composure. 

Your fingers found the warm metal of the soldier dog tag and wrapped your fist around it, tugging at it until his gargled protest echoed. You grabbed for the second knife equipped at your chest. 

An arm wrapped around your waist and you were being hauled up into the air and slammed into the wall behind you, knocking the wind out of you. You brought your elbow down in the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. Once. Twice. He let you go, driving his fist into your jaw. Your head snapped to the side and stars blossomed in the corners of your vision. 

You grappled at your assailant for purchase, but you were already being yanked into the other soldier's arms, your hand twisted painfully behind you.

“Bitch,” he missed in your ear.

Your vision was swimming but your eyes landed on the blade still jutting out of the first guy's shoulder. You leaned your weight back, lifting your feet to kick the blade in again. The man stumbled back, screaming. You dropped your weight as fast and hard as you can, bringing the last guy down with you. 

He was faster than you. Climbing on top of you, pressing into your back with a knee. His finger gripped at your scalp, bringing your head up only to smash it back into the ground. Again and again. 

There was a bang that cracked through the air. And you waited for the searing pain that usually accompanied a bullet. 

The heavy weight above you began to suffocate you, and you struggled for breath. A whimper escaped you. 

There was the sound of a struggle somewhere above you but you couldn’t find the strength to so much as look up. 

The weight was lifted off of you, and you came face to face with the unseeing, dead eyes of the soldier who was just bashing your face into the floor. Then you were being flipped and your eyes met familiar brown ones.  

Alarm flashed across his face, “Shit. Can you walk?”, his arm slipped under and around you. 

“Yes, I think,” You blinked up at him, your vision blurring. You wiped at your eyes, “I can’t see.”

“You’ve got blood everywhere,” Ghost hissed, shifting your weight onto him. The floor beneath your feet was slick and you fought to keep them under you. He nearly carried you to the truck before shoving you into the passenger seat. He was driving off before you could register where you were.  

“Was it just them?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road but they kept snapping over to you. 

Your arms felt heavy and you slumped in your seat, “I didn’t see anyone else.” 

He drove fast back down the road and out of the town. If there were two soldiers still here there was bound to be more. And he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

He reached into the back to find something, anything for you to wipe the blood from your face. You weren’t sure which of it was yours and which of it was the now dead soldiers. 

He found a plain white cotton shirt from his pack.

“You’ll never get the blood stains out,” you half joked as you wiped at your face.  

“I’m not too attached,” he ground out but you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for jests right now. 

“Did you find your informant?” you strained as you wound a particular sore spot above your brow. A break in the skin that would surely scar. 

“He was dead.” 

Nausea gripped your stomach and you weren’t sure if it was the signs of a concussion or because of the aftermath of what you’d seen at the school. Most likely both, “Riley,” you struggled, fingers finding the door handle, “Pull over.”

“What?” 

Saliva flooded your mouth, “Pull over.” 

He turned into the ditch, tossing you a concerned glance before he moved to open his door.

“Stay in the truck,” you ordered, before slipping out your door. 

You were retching before your feet found the earth. You retched until you couldn’t anymore. Until your stomach was empty and your legs were useless.  

He didn’t say a word when you stepped back into the truck, but his knuckles turned white in the steering wheel. 

He handed you the bottled water from the cup holder and you rinsed your mouth out before speaking again, “We can’t involve any more civilians,” even to your ears you sounded defeated, “They will hunt them down. They did. They…called her a sympathizer,” you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. You told him of the school, and the message written on the chalkboard. You told him about the little girl and the teacher had to leave in the courtyard. “Did you informant know anything about the rest of us? Did he know I was at the school while you were with him?”

He stiffened, “No and yes. He wasn’t aware that anyone other than us two were on the run,”   

We drove for another few hours before he turned off the road once more. 

He was jumping out of the truck and reaching into the back seats before coming around to your side. His head was on a swivel, as he walked, looking for any signs that we had a tail. He opened your door, “We can’t go back to camp just yet,” he handed you your pack and placed his at his feet.

You had noticed that he was going in the complete opposite direction of the base a while back. Those soldiers knew we had been to that village, and they had been waiting for us to turn back up. There was still a chance they were following us, hoping we’d bring them back to everyone else. 

“Agreed,” 

“Dress in your civi’s,” he took out a fresh pair of jeans and a plain grey sweater, “The closest safe house isn’t as secure as the last,” He looked over your face and removed his vest, “I can stop on the way there and get you some ice for your face.” 

Then he was shirtless, then he was nearly naked. 

And too soon he was dressed again. His sweater pulled tights across his chest and shoulders. He looked even better in regular clothes than he did in his uniform. He moved to help you with your vest, the velcro a harsh sound in the silence. He helped you wiggle out of your shirt. You were sticky, cold, wet and with blood. He handed you a hoodie and waited for you to put it on before closing the door.

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎  @yellow-devil18 ❤︎ @tangledredstringsoffate ❤︎ @gingergirl06 ❤︎ @wwe1rdc0re

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Chapter Three

Ch 1 Ch 2 <-

WC: 4769 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 3/10 | AO3

Note: Trigger warnings apply very strongly to this chapter, and it is probably the heaviest chapter of the fic.

~Steve~

Steve had been a little on edge all day. 

He kept trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal, that tonight would be just like any other post Upside Down fuckery get-together, nothing whatsoever to get worked up over.

But it was no use.

It was a big deal. Tonight would be the first time any of them had set eyes on Eddie since the night they’d killed Vecna—since the night they’d almost lost the other boy for good. 

Assuming he actually showed. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe it when Dustin called saying Eddie had finally come to the phone, and not only spoke to him but agreed to a party. 

It seemed like a huge step after he’d so thoroughly cut them all off. Because no matter how many times Steve had told Dustin to give it time, that everyone heals from trauma in their own way, at their own pace, Steve knew that’s exactly what Eddie had done—he just didn't understand why.

It gave him a bad feeling about the night to come.

Still, the relief at hearing that Eddie had finally reached out to one of them, that Steve might finally get to see him whole and well after keeping him alive through sheer force of will alone, only to have Eddie ripped away from him at the hospital never to be seen again…

It had been enough to send him to his knees.

The phone rang, pulling Steve from his thoughts and forcing him to stop wiping the already clean kitchen counter to answer. It had to be Robin. He’d known this would happen. She swore she’d get her mom to drop her off for once so he wouldn’t have to venture out when Jonathan and Nancy were already picking up the kids.

"Hey, Rob. You need a ride after all?"

"Steve?” A voice that was definitely not his best friend’s came over the line. “It's Wayne."

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I thought—"

"Boy,” Wayne huffed, and Steve could practically feel him shaking his head. “How many times are you gonna make me say it?"

"Sorry—Wayne,” Steve corrected himself. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling the older man by his first name, it just wasn’t how he was raised, but Eddie’s uncle seemed hell bent on making sure he did. 

"That's better."

"Is everything okay? Is Eddie...?" Steve clutched the phone with both hands, willing the knot forming in his stomach to go away. He could only assume either something had happened, or Wayne was calling to tell him Eddie wasn’t coming after all. 

"He's fine,” Wayne was quick to reassure him. “As fine as he’s been, at least. He's in the shower now getting ready to head over to your place. I can't tell you how happy I am that he's finally going to see some of his friends."

"Me too. I… I know the kids miss him."

“Right,” Wayne huffed a laugh. "You say that as if you’re not a kid yourself."

Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the double meaning or not, but decided to ignore it.

“I guess I just haven't felt like one in a long time.” 

Wayne hummed in understanding. "I hope it’s not too much to ask, but keep a close eye on Ed tonight, will ya? I know this is a good thing. Him getting out of the house feels like the first step towards him living his life again, but… well, you know I worry."

"It’s no problem," Steve said immediately. 

As if that hadn’t already been his plan for the evening.

“Thank you, Steve. Oh, and I think maybe it’d be best if we don’t let on to Eddie that we’ve been talking. He might take it the wrong way, like we been talking bad about him behind his back. Would you mind keeping it between you and me?” 

They sort of had been talking about him behind his back, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t malicious. And Steve knew there were things Wayne didn’t share. Half the time the older man simply told stories about Eddie growing up.

“I won’t say a word, promise.”

Steve's camaraderie with Eddie's uncle wasn’t something he ever could have predicted coming out of all this.

Wayne had been understandably skeptical when he learned that his nephew had been found, and his life saved by a group of kids, and that that group had included one Steve Harrington. 

Steve’s dad and Wayne had to be roughly the same age, and Richard Harrington had long held a reputation for being a stuck up asshole. Steve also had no idea what tales Eddie might have come home telling about his own asshole years, so he could hardly blame the man for being wary when they’d first met in the hospital’s waiting room. 

Regardless of his concerns, Wayne had still looked Steve’s number up in the phonebook and called, on one of the rare days he wasn’t already there haunting the halls of Hawkins General, to tell him that Eddie had finally woken up. Though at the time he still wasn’t allowed visitors.

They wound up talking on the phone for more than an hour, until Wayne ran out of change.

Steve couldn't tell Eddie’s uncle anything about the Upside Down or Vecna, for fear of violating the NDAs they’d all signed years ago, even if Brenner was dead now, and no one had shown up yet this time around to demand their continued silence. And to his surprise the older man didn't push, almost like he knew there were things Steve wasn’t allowed to share no matter how much he might want to. 

He did explain, in the most sanitized version of events possible, that he and the others had been with Eddie the whole time. Trying to protect him, to hide him from the citizens that were hell-bent on hunting him down, while also dodging the advances of the real killer. And when the worst had happened, he—Steve, had done CPR, refusing to let Eddie succumb to his injuries.

It was all the truth he could offer, and really it wasn’t that far off. Wayne had cried quietly into the receiver, though they both pretended he hadn’t, and couldn’t seem to thank Steve enough. 

Steve went on to tell him about the boathouse. How he hadn’t really known Eddie that well in school, but that even after the other boy had threatened him with a broken bottle to his neck, he quickly realized that everyone had it wrong. Under all the leather and chains, and loud brashness, Eddie was sensitive, kind, and wouldn’t hurt a fly unless provoked. 

He even went so far as to say that he hoped, once the dust settled anyway, that he and Eddie could get to know each other better. Not the most damning of statements, but still more than he’d really meant to share. Steve wasn’t sure what had possessed him to be so honest. There was just something about Wayne Munson that made him feel comfortable and safe.

They spoke every single day after that. Either on the phone, or more often in person when both of them were camped out in the hospital’s waiting room with a revolving cast of others. 

It’d been hard to hear that Eddie didn’t want to see anyone. 

Wayne hadn’t said those exact words, of course, but it wasn’t hard for Steve to read between the lines. The entire group of them, not just those who had fought against Vecna from Hawkins, but Mike, El, Will, Jonathan, Jonathan’s friend Argyle who had inexplicably stuck around after driving the rest of them cross country in his pizza van— even though some of them had never even met Eddie, they all rushed to the hospital when word came down that their friend’s name had finally been cleared. His restrictions lifted.  

Dustin took it the hardest, refusing to go home because if Steve wasn’t leaving, then why did he have to go? And Steve couldn’t really argue with that, he’d done this to himself. Thankfully Claudia showed up eventually and didn’t give her son the choice.

Steve continued to talk to Wayne often, still went to the hospital nearly every day, even though it was clear that reports on Eddie’s progress from his uncle would be all the proof of life he’d get. Wayne was always checking in on Steve too, asking if he was eating, sleeping, that sorta thing. It was kind of nice having an adult fuss over him like that, he’d almost forgotten what it was like.

-

Robin grabbed Steve by the hem of his polo, forcibly pulling him into the kitchen where Nancy, Jon, and Argyle were hanging out.

“Hey, watch it!” Steve yanked himself out of her grip, straightening his shirt. 

Robin leaned in close to whisper. “You have to stop staring, dingus. You’re going to freak him out.”

Steve scoffed, keeping his own voice low. “As if he’s even looked in my direction once.”

“I know Wayne asked you to look out for him tonight, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too seriously?”

“I told you that in confidence!” Steve hissed under his breath. 

“Just relax. He seems fine to me.” Robin patted him on the arm and turned to join Nancy in her discussion about studying for finals.

She wasn’t wrong exactly. Eddie did seem fine—with everyone else. 

Eddie had been the last to arrive and Steve worried at first that it might be too much, walking into a house full of people and being inundated by the likes of Mike and Dustin. He’d even said as much to the younger teens when they heard the squealing of brakes as Eddie’s van pulled up, warning them not to overwhelm him with questions or say anything about the hospital. 

And for a moment Steve thought he’d been wrong. 

Eddie came through the door, dimples on display, all big stupidly pretty smiles, a bit crooked now from the still healing scar near his mouth, but that only drew Steve’s attention to his lips more. 

He hugged Dustin, reintroduced himself to Jonathan, who of course remembered him from school, met Argyle and El, and greeted everyone else one by one. 

Everyone but Steve. 

No one else seemed to notice the oversight, and Steve, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, proceeded to quietly brood in the corner, taking breaks only to freshen his beer so he’d have something to do with himself while he observed—not stared, Robin.

The longer he watched, the more convinced he became that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be. His already lithe frame looked even thinner now. He was swimming in his usual ripped jeans and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. No, Steve still didn’t know who they were, but he could read damnit. And there was something in the set of Eddie’s shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists when he thought no one was looking, a tightness around his eyes—eyes with dark bruising below that spoke of many sleepless nights.

Or maybe Steve was overreacting. Maybe this was just what happens when someone is recovering from almost dying in a hell dimension. Maybe it was a good thing Robin had pulled him away before he could do or say anything to embarrass himself. 

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been milling about the kitchen making awful small talk with his ex-girlfriend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s stoner best friend when Eddie came stumbling into the kitchen, Robin following close behind with wide eyes on her way back from the bathroom.

Eddie mumbled out an apology to no one as he banged into the counter before finding his way to the fridge where he took out a beer, and proceeded to down it in one go with the door still hanging wide open in front of him. 

Steve shared a baffled look with Robin. There was no way Eddie had gotten that drunk off of the two, now three beers, he’d had since he arrived. He had to have started before he got there, or broken into Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet in the office. 

“Hey, Eddie… um, do you think maybe you should slow down?” Steve said cautiously, taking a tentative step towards the other boy as he popped open yet another beer. 

At least he closed the refrigerator door this time.

“That an order, King Steve?” Eddie slurred out, looking Steve in the eye for the first time all evening. He swayed into Steve’s space, poking a finger into his chest. “How about you just mind your own fucking business for once, and leave me alone.”

Eddie’s words were biting, vicious, and Steve found himself taking a step back, holding his hands up as if surrendering. This time it was Nancy he exchanged a quick glance with. She looked just as confused as he felt, brows tightly furrowed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Man, that’s—that’s not—” Steve began, floundering for what to say. He didn’t understand what was happening, why Eddie was so angry. He thought they’d moved past high school reputations after everything. “I just don’t want to see you get sick or something.”

“Whatever,” Eddie made a dramatic show out of rolling his eyes, before fumbling in his pockets and pulling out his keys. “I’m outta here.”

When Steve hesitated, afraid to make it worse, Robin walked right up to Eddie and snatched the set of keys out of his hand. “Oh no you don't. No way we’re letting you drive like this.”

“Fine, I’ll walk!” Eddie snapped, moving to step around her, but found Jonathan his path.

“You can’t walk all that way, man,” Jonathan said.

“Watch me,” Eddie spun on his heel, nearly fell when he lost his balance, and almost ran into Nancy who had moved to block the other way out of the kitchen.

“There’s still people out there who are after you, Eddie. It’s not safe," she said.

Eddie laughed, but it was an unsettling, hollow sound, devoid of any actual humor. He looked at them all in turn with dull eyes. “Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?”

“I do,” Steve blurted out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “We all do. We’re your friends, Eddie. Of course we care.”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as he rounded on Steve again. “Yeah, sure.”

“Look, I’ve got a guest room, why don’t you sleep it off and you can drive home in the morning.”

“You just looove telling people what to do, don’t you?” Eddie crooned, mockingly. “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off.”

Robin moved to stand between them, facing Eddie. “What is your problem, huh?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Eddie asked, tilting his head, pointing an accusing finger behind her. “Him. He’s my problem.”

Steve had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, but he tried to push it aside. It could be that Eddie was just an angry drunk or something, in which case, trying to reason with him right now was pointless, but he still had to ask.

“I don’t understand, Eddie. What did I do?” 

“You should have fucking left me there!” 

Everyone froze, the kitchen falling absolutely silent in the wake of Eddie’s words. Steve watched as all the blood drained from the other boy’s face, leaving him more ghostly pale than ever. 

Eddie took a stumbling step back from Robin, pushing past Jonathan, who didn’t try to stop him this time, and took off. Steve listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing but it never came. Instead he heard a door slam down the other end of the hall where the bathroom was, and realized that Robin still held Eddie’s van keys in her hand.

The raised voices of Dustin and Max filtered in from the other room, snapping the group of older teens back to life.

“Shit,” Steve ran his hands roughly through his hair. “You don’t think the kids heard any of that do you?”

Argyle jumped into action, peeking his head around the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room before turning back with an easy smile. “Nah, the little dudes are like, fully engrossed in arguing about what movie to watch, they’re fine.”

Steve raised his face to the ceiling, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Robin wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek into his arm.

“Nance, do you think you guys could drive everyone home?” Steve asked.

Nancy shrugged. “Yeah, yeah I guess, but… what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like this is my fault somehow,” he said, leaning his head down against Robin’s for a moment, taking the comfort she offered while he could. He had a feeling the night wasn’t going to get any better from here. “So I should be the one to fix it.”

They told the kids that Eddie wasn’t feeling well, and had gone upstairs to lay down and needed quiet. They weren’t thrilled about getting kicked out, denied their big group sleepover, but Steve promised a raincheck and that seemed to smooth things over. 

Dustin lagged behind when the others split off into Nancy’s car and Argyle’s van, shooting suspicious looks between Steve and Robin. “I’m not stupid, I know something’s wrong. Something you're not telling me.”

“Do you trust me, Henderson?”

“You know I do.” Dustin scowled. “But you can’t treat me like a kid forever.”

Steve drew him into a tight hug. “I know, just… let me handle this one, okay?”

“You’ll take care of him?” Dustin asked, voice muffled where his face was pressed to Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.” 

Robin was the last to go, hovering in the open doorway while Nancy’s car idled out front.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Steve would have loved for her to stay, to hold his hand through whatever the hell was about to happen, but he had a feeling he had a better chance of getting Eddie out of that bathroom without a crowd. And if Eddie wanted to keep taking his anger out on Steve, well, he could handle it, and at least no one else would have to hear. 

“I’ll be alright.”

“Are you going to call Wayne?” She asked.

He’d already been waffling back and forth about calling the older man. He didn’t want to worry Eddie’s uncle even more than he already was, but he might not have a choice.

“If I say yes, will you go?”

Robin elbowed him hard in the side before throwing her arms around his neck. “What Eddie said, Steve… I-I don’t like the sound of that.”

Steve swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat. “Me either.” 

-

Steve approached the bathroom slowly, wrapping his arms around himself when he heard Eddie sobbing through the closed door, so sorrowful and loud that he could practically feel the other boy’s pain. 

Steve’s heart broke.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly on the hollow wood.

The sound of Eddie’s cries was choked off abruptly, replaced with a muffled whimper. Steve could imagine clear as day the other boy sitting in there with a hand thrown over his own mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sound. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking more deep even breaths as he bowed his head. He was intimately familiar with bathroom floor breakdowns, and not just the one he and Robin now looked back on with an odd fondness, the moment they became them. He’d spent more than one night on a cold tile floor. After the first demogorgon, after the tunnels, the Russians and the mind flayer, and just a few weeks ago, after Vecna—after Eddie.

Steve sat, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his back against the door frame.

“It’s just me, Eddie. Everyone else is gone. Do you… do you want to come out and talk? Or I could come in there?” 

“Go away, Harrington,” Eddie said weakly. 

“If you don’t want to talk, I could just sit with you.”

“Haven’t you done enough, King Steve? Just leave me alone, man.” Eddie's voice shook.

It was the same words he’d thrown in Steve’s face in the kitchen, but the sharp edges had been filed off.

Steve sighed, letting his head fall back against the door with a soft thunk. “Come on, Eddie. You know I'm not that guy anymore. I thought we had a moment back there, in the woods?” 

He still had no idea where this was coming from. What had he done to make Eddie hate him all of the sudden?

Eddie let out another humorless chuckle. “A moment? What am I—your fucking prom date, Harrington?”

“You know what I mean. I thought we had an understanding, that we agreed we were both different than the other expected.”

“What part of any of this has convinced you that I’m not exactly the freak everyone says I am?”

“You’re not a—”

Steve’s reply was cut off by a metallic clatter on the other side of the door. His stomach dropped, his mouth went dry, and his heart began hammering in his chest. It could be nothing more than the chains from Eddie’s jeans dragging on the floor, but if it wasn’t… 

Steve shot to his feet, trying the handle though he knew it’d be locked.

It was.

“Open the door, Eddie.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve jiggled the handle again. “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re not gonna break your own door down.”

If Steve was right about what he thought might be happening in there, he’d do a lot worse than damaging a stupid door to stop it. 

“Try me.” 

Steve backed himself up, prepared to use his shoulder like a battering ram, when he heard the faint click of the lock disengaging.

The hinges squeaked as he pushed the door open carefully.

Eddie was huddled on the floor, wedged into the corner between the sink and the wall, curled in on himself. He rocked gently back and forth as he stared down at the knife gripped tightly in his hand. 

Steve kept his movements slow, kneeling down on the floor as far from Eddie as the cramped space would allow.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie whispered.

Steve swallowed back a pained sound, blinking back tears as his fingers itched to reach for the other boy, to hold him. He might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he was absolutely sure that when Eddie said here he wasn’t talking about Steve’s house.

He inched forward, holding his hand out.

“Please give me the knife.”

Eddie’s eyes, red rimmed and puffy, shot up to meet his, and they still held so much anger—but also a hint of fear. He snarled, but released his grip on the blade, letting it drop to the tile between them.  

As Steve reached for it, retracting the blade and slipping it carefully into his pocket, he let his gaze roam over Eddie’s body, relieved to see no spots of blood on him or the floor. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Eddie part with his blood again. 

Eddie hugged his legs to his chest, tucking himself into an even tighter little ball, glazing at Steve as he rested his head on his knees. “Always think you know what’s best, don't you? Who put you in charge, why do you get to make that decision?”

“I don’t—I don’t know anything, man.”

Eddie’s eyes fell shut, sending fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. “Why couldn’t you just leave me down there, huh? I was as good as dead. It would have been easier, safer.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pull Eddie into his lap and never let go. 

Eddie sniffled loudly, wiping his face on his jeans. “I did what I did to keep Dustin safe, to make sure you had the chance to win, but I never planned on making it out of that place.”

Steve did reach out then, and surprisingly Eddie took his hand, letting Steve pull him to his feet—and didn’t let go. Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but he allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom, up the stairs, and all the way to the guest room where he finally let go, laying down on the bed to face the wall. 

Steve hovered in the doorway, a little afraid to leave the other boy alone, but he had no idea what he was doing. He was in way over his head here. He needed to call Wayne. 

“I’m not sorry that I saved your life,” Steve said quietly to Eddie’s back. “I could never be sorry for that, but I am sorry that you’re hurting.”

-

By the time Steve made it to the bottom of the stairs again he was a wreck, crying and shaking so badly that he almost dropped the phone as he dialed the Munson’s number from memory. 

“Hello?”

The moment the call connected Steve’s legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor, thankful for the phone’s long cord.

“Wayne…” Steve sobbed out the older man’s name.

“What’s wrong? Is Eddie…?” Wayne’s panicked voice came loudly through the receiver.

Steve pressed the phone hard into his ear. “He’s here. H-he’s laying down in my guestroom.”

“What happened?” 

“It’s… he… I can’t—I can’t—I can’t even say it.” Steve hiccuped, and his voice caught, his throat gone painfully tight.

“Breathe, son. It’s gonna be alright, but you gotta breathe. Go on—in and out, on my count.”

It took a few tries but Steve did his best to follow the man’s directions, concentrating on the sound of his voice as he counted off to five. Taking air into his lungs slowly, holding it for a beat, and blowing it out just as slowly until he felt a little less like he was going to pass out.

“That’s real good, Steve. You drop your head between your knees?”

He did, nodding as though the other man could see him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

Wayne clicked his tongue. “Nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on now?”

Again Steve nodded to no one but the floor and the empty room. 

“Eddie—he was drinking and I tried to get him to slow down, but he… he got so angry and then he said—” Steve cut himself off, unable to repeat the words, and skipped ahead to the worst of it. “He locked himself in the bathroom. I sent everyone else away, and I-I tried to talk to him, but… Wayne, he was in there, crying, holding that knife he carries.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Shit,” Wayne cursed softly. “I knew he was having a hard time, but I didn’t think…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, kid. I just don’t know what to do, how to help him. I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow night, I can’t afford any more time off. We might not owe on the trailer but there’s still bills to pay. I was already nervous about leaving him alone, and now—I can’t lose him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate to make the offer. He’d been fired from the video store for missing too many shifts anyway.

“What if he stayed here with me for a while?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Wayne said.

“You didn’t, I’m offering. I’m not working right now, so I can be home with him all the time and maybe—I dunno, maybe I can get through to him.” 

There was a long pause before Wayne spoke again, where Steve was afraid the man would turn him down. "I know there’s things… stuff he can’t talk to me about, that he can talk to you about. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure, and I promise I won't let anything bad happen to him.”

“I know, son, you’re a good kid. Okay. Let me pack some of his things. I'll be there soon.”

Chapter 4

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[songbird-oracle]

Live thoughts watching Fantasy High Junior Year episode 5

Spoilers ahead

Im so nervous already about Cassandra

These dudes getting swole

It IS spicy tonight in the dome

Screaming

I WANT A BOGGY KISS

OH FUCK SHES HOLD MONSTERING KRISTEN

THE SECURITY COMING THROUGH OH SHIT

“Do you want me to kill that guy for you 👀” vibes

OH NO PLEASE NO NIGHTMARE KING OH NO OH NO

I’m Shittering my pants rn

No not the girlies!

Located in the astral mall, This place has *everything*. Ripped valley girls, a goddess and prophet and familiar going through a very tumultuous time in their relationship, a frog wearing a paper hat, and a weird ass clock

I live for the hangman banter

Oml I love the Yarrbucks coffee art

LOU HOLY SHIT

BOX OF DOOM DC5!? The stakes are seriously so high though

Okaaaaaaaay 13 works ig

“Does she need scratchies?”

Wooo Murph!!

THE STAR TALKS!?

I love Emily’s reaction to “banging out a 1st level spell”

Riz sadly flossing

Oh no Kristen oh no Cassandra!

No stop attacking Cassandra!!!!

🎶non-a-crits🎶

Thank goodness no failures

Break it up guys come ooooooooon

Damn, man needs strudel with sauce at a time like this

Profiling the minis 🤣

NOT THE TAP DANCING

“I don’t think you’re scared, I think you’re mad. And that’s okay” I’m sobbing

YES THE FUCKING SECURITY DETAIL

Kristen is so low, oh no

A 0 initiative 🥲

FUCK THIS IS WHAT RAGHS MOM ABSORBED!?!? Gorgug is the greatest wizard of our time

Abjurative grammar is prescriptive. Iykyk.

I knew the DC would be high

NAT 20 BEARDSLEY IN THE FUCKING HOUUUUUUUSE

YESSSSS HEALED CASSANDRA 😭

Oh fuck oh fuck bad stars

Let it out Cassandra, feel your feelings

Oh my goodness, philosophers scone

OOP PAUL BLART INTERGALACTIC MALL COP

It’s not the nightmare king??????

41 damage each, damn Adaine

We aren’t even half way through guys

BAHAHAHAHAHHA playful picking on Riz

Mass dispelling?? Damn

????? TUMMY ACHE SURVIVOR????

THE SHRIMP!!!!!!

Why is Fig a walking embodiment of Murphy’s law rn???

WHAT THE FUCK

NO NO NO DID GILEAR STEAL HER LUCK??????

IS THIS QUADRANGLE FUCKERY??????

Okay it’s just a curse

WAIT WHAT???

Cloaca why 😂

Whoopsies, shattered the shatter star

Oh fuck, rage Adaine is scary dude

Is this some rage and revenge deity??

Anyone but Conor

BAHAHAHAHAHA “no no, this is gonna happen”

“Stay hot Conor”

NOT KALINA NO

RAGH??????

Not the shimmy

WHAT IS KALINAS AC

44 DAMAGE??

Old Fabian

Legend has it the wizard is still waiting for his strudel with sauce

WHAT THE FUCK NO NOT CASSANDRA NO NO NO

“Unfortunately stop flossing”

COMPELLED DUEL ON KALINA OH FUCK

3!!!!! Woooooo!!!!!

Worst mall cop ever, Paul Blart would never

🤣 “is that not property damage??”

I’m so scared for Cassandra guys

Kristen and Cassandra are down oh no 🥲

BARDIC SHRIMPSPIRATION

NO NAT ONE NO NOOOOOOOO

Somewhere Katja Cleaver is raging because Conor Counterspell said he hates horses

A ball. Not *the* ball

ARMOR ZOMBIE AND LICH IM LIVING FIR THESE NAMES

Bards and Noble 🤣

Kristen coming in with the hugs

Box of doom has been working hard this episode

Shake out the bad ones

Screaming crying throwing up

I can’t look

Dammit Murph

Ecaf again

“What are you talking about girlieeeee?”

Brendan’s stare scares me

FUCK

Strudel for the win Girlie!!!

“One more roll girlie 🤪”

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no circle of death oh no

COUNTERSPELL MY BELOVED

“How old are you” “45” “gross”

WAIT WHAT TIME REVERSE TO- TEN SECONDS

Conor, you’re the best secret service agent ever

WHAT????? WHERES CASSANDRA??????

WHAT????????

I’m so fucking scared right now

Wait is Cassandra a triple goddess? Like how Hekate is a triple goddess, is Cassandra one? Cause Cassandra, Nightmare king, and a divine thing that isn’t a different divinity?

I want to enjoy “we got that bad boy buttered” but I can’t 🥲

Dead stare 🥲

I love Hangman 🥹

Feral Murph

NAT 20 SHRIMP JUMP

Thousand yard stare

Best shrimp jump ever

Maximum legend

That’s right, kick flip the system

Fuck KandyKorn Lullaby

See you at Basrars, I’ll be sobbing into my ice cream

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 12

Synopsis: Reader meets Missy. It's a mixed bag.

A/n: sorry for another delay. Hope you enjoy. More doctor fuckery and allusions to the doctors current devolution. Yay I hope you enjoy yayyy.

What were these truths the Doctor was talking about? At least he was being honest! A damn shame to your overloaded brain, but you appreciated it nonetheless. Maybe you would bring yourself to honestly about your profession after. Maybe. You’d have to test the waters and go off what tonight’s surprise was.

Your heart slammed itself into it's cage.

The next few hours were hell on Earth. What was this secret he was going to reveal?

You always dealt with waiting so poorly…

You got through your final tutoring via the university without nary a hiccup, but your brain combed through all the possibilities you could scrounge from sci-fi shows. What was that one nearly-sixty years old program that the BBC had?

Too late now…

You did sneak home to change into something that didn’t scream ‘lazy’.

Soon it was nearly nine. As you walked to his office, you felt like you were at a wall, breathing your last free breaths before the firing squad came upon you. You worked on your breathing exercises as you went to knock the door.

He was there, illuminated softy. Grey hair fluffed, in a burgundy shirt and hoodie. He looked utterly (and unfairly!) Breath-taking. You felt both underdressed and overdressed.

“Good evening!” He smiled, it was one of those easy, unnerving, comfortable smiles that framed his eyes so well.

“Hey.” Was the best you could muster. Your vocabulary stolen from your tongue as easily as the breath from your lungs over him…

How could someone who was quite literally older than the rededication of the Second Temple look so good?

Alien magic, must be.

“You remember that Missy character?”

“Yeah, her? Them?” You struggled.

“Her.”

“Ah.”

“She’s been on her best behavior. Stunning, really.”

“And?”

“I think you two need to meet. I’ve cleared the idea with her other…Guardian.”

“Oh?”

“Nardole…he’s an egg. I sent him to Norwich for a packet of crisps.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” It didn’t.

You rubbed your lip together in a partial move to rip the skin off, but also to provide some sort of outlet for the nervousness that was still coming up from the pit of your stomach.

What was Missy?

He offered the crook of his arm, “Shall we go?”

You took it.

The walk was nice, silent. The weather was warming up nicely. Mild night.

Soon you went to a place obscured in some hardly-looked after corner in the university’s basement. He pressed some hidden point and the wall snapped in two, revealing some contraption. He unhooked himself from you and started entering codes, some little monitor popped up and scanned his eye.

It asked for a verbal confirmation.

He spoke in some language that made your blood run cold and you feel small. Something about it was haunting. Like singing.

It unveiled another wall with a turn-lock, from which he produced a key and unlocked it.

Finally, it seemed safe to part through.

“What did she do?” You asked, voice husky with fear.

“Enough.” He let a little snort escape.

You nodded and went in.

It was a grand room, a couple of old, antique chairs and some meager side tables faced what was a mighty cage! It looked like glass, on the platform. Inside this guided cage was a woman, in simple Victorian clothes.

She played piano very gently.

“Missy.” The Doctor seemingly pleaded.

The woman inside slammed the lid shut and turned around.

She had the most insane, yet oddly lovely smile. Cat-like.

She was thin.

“Oh…you’ve brought me a plaything?” She grinned.

Her accent sounded Scottish. Like the Doctor.

“Do all aliens sound like Scotsmen?” You blurted out before you could monitor your thoughts.

“I’m sorry!” You amended.

She laughed, it sounded like bells.

“One would certainly hope so!” She responded.

“I’m Missy! Short for Mistress!”

“Oh, I’m (y/n).”

She shot the Doctor some look. He shot her another look. It seemed they were having an entire conversation without you. You felt alienated. You looked between them.

“I’ve heard nothing but good. Typical!” She approached you at the edge of her enclosure. You felt caged. Missy stalked you as if she were a lioness and you were some disabled, freshly birthed gazelle. You started sweating, it dewed down your back.

“Oh!”

“My best enemy.” He elaborated.

You nodded more, at a total loss for words. Your breathing became manual.

“So what did you do?”

“Oh, this girlie is rude! I love it!” She shot the Doctor another look.

“Don’t talk behind my back?” You assumed.

Missy nearly fell over! She started laughing, “Rude and clever! He’s certainly taught you well.”

Your eyes could have shot out of their sockets.

“You’re like Jedi, yeah? Can communicate with your brains?” You explained.

“Sure enough? Jedi are the Lego ones?” the Doctor asked.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy her.” Missy predated you more. Nose pressed against her enclosure.

You got the briefest of synopsis of their entire relationship. You felt yourself blinking from your brain overloading. It felt like someone dumped out your mind and shook the contents up before tossing it all back in, haphazardly.

You swallowed heavily.

“So Time Lords. Do you all have such…intense names? Mistress, Doctor? So is there a Bachelor?” You felt your arms move as if to elaborate this point.

“Different generations have different naming convention. My brother is Irving Braxiatel.”

“Of course. Makes sense. My name’s (y/n) but now all the kids are McKinsleigh or Harley or whatever.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, my dear Doctor, you have a smart one on your hands. Now how do you like the stars, kiddo?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nope, no stars for me. I’m not going up there. Nope. I know what happens! I’m genre aware. I know what goes down in space. And if you’ve had a lot of dead companions previously…not me. I am not that suicidal!” You felt like a horizontal bobble head of sorts.

“See!” She slapped her thigh. “This one’s got common sense! She’s not going to swan off and get herself killed by a giant bird!”

It seemingly touched a tender point.

“Oh, here you go, bringing up Clara! What’s with you?” He seemed on the verge of spitting. “We’re having such a normal time!”

“Oh, she was my manic pixie dream bitch too!” Missy countered, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

You made several notes to bring up later when you were going to bring up some new ground rules for this relationship, if this Missy didn’t tear you to shreds and eat your entrails like a tin of tuna.

The cat metaphors kept coming…

Were Time Lords cats?

No! Cats have barbed penises and that Time Lord you were fond of didn’t…

“May I get a tuba now?” Missy pleaded.

“We’ll see.”

You found yourself fiddling with your necklaces in a very rapid way with one hand. The other twisting the massive gold hoop in your one ear. Nervous habits coming in strong to help you self-soothe in this inopportune moment…

Somewhere the Doctor produced a flask of tea and poured some out, it was herbal. At the moment you couldn’t discern much more than that.

He gave it to all, including Missy, who’s barrier seemed penetrable to him, but not her. As she touched it and it repelled her.

Where did he pull out all these things?

What was the barrier made of? Did it work on genes?

Your mind roared for an explanation.

You reminded yourself to take it in strive. You weren’t working with logic and sanity anymore. You were in some contrived sci-fi story now.

It was the only way that you’d survive this!

Missy asked you something pleasantries involving your studies, and you divulged your grand plans.

“Oh, not overly ambitious. No martyr complex. Doctor this one may survive you.” Her focus splintered.

You felt out of your depth even more. You were taking it in stride, but that felt like it was lacking. Although…an opportunity did arise.

Did you have the guts to take it?

You pondered on. If it did turn nasty, you were outnumbered. Two of these so called ’Time Lords’. One you. One very mortal and squishy you.

Missy seemed to know far more than she probably should. You craved a bit more knowledge.

Shouldn’t you be privy to details about the man you’ve been not only fucking, but falling madly under his spell? And dare you utter it- loved?

“So what’s the deal with you Time Lords?” You asked Missy.

“An ancient race. We’re the pinnacle of evolution. Very few races will or ever will get close. Some have tried, they fail to become as optimized.”

“A bit eugenics-y.” You responded, your brows knitted together.

“Funny collars.” The Doctor chimed in. “That’s the opposite of optimized.”

“Oh, Mister President! How salacious!” She cooed in his general direction.

“President?” Your eyes boggled from their sockets.

“Technically. I’m also the De Facto President of Earth in an emergency. Neither here nor there…”

“And he’s ever so humble! My dear, Doctor. If this were two bodies ago you’d be preening!”

You looked down and blinked hard, as you started to chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I was a but more vain. I mean, how could I not? All youth and fire and forged from Rose’s love.”

“And who the hell is Rose?” Your jealousy creeping back in.

“Oh, Doctor! You dog! She was very blonde! Broke many universes trying to find him again!” Missy gaped, as if she had personally sprung this trap.

“She helped me. I was raw from the War. She saw my hearts and that’s all.” The explanation was clearly him trying to not irk any jealousy in you.

“She got a wee clone! They’re in a parallel universe!” Missy simmered up, swinging around on her ankles.

“You are annoying.”

“You could have let Torvic kill me!” She put her hands on her hips and pulled a sour face.

“I’m sorry, who’s Torvic?” You were being bombarded with more information than you could handle.

“I was a soft lad. This kid kept bullying me. He was going to kill me, but here does come ikkle little Doctor with a rock! Bye bye Torvic!” She announced it like she was a wrestling presenter.

“How old were…you all?”

“Ten!” Missy clapped her hands together.

“Death’s champion!” She elaborated with a sick glee, pointing at the Doctor.

“I’m assuming you can…change sexes.” You kept piecing it together. “Were you ever a woman?”

“Maybe next go!” The Doctor said.

You leaned down and rested your fingers on your jaw as if to keep it from falling off onto the ground.

“So…how does that all work?”

“Two hearts, they prevent death and kick in our ancient rights!” Missy flourished.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” The Doctor stepped in. “We get a new face, new body. New chances. We keep our core. But everything from our personality to our kidneys.”

You inhaled.

“Anything else I need to know…assuming that you do that in front of me.” You curbed your attention to the Doctor. You wanted answers and you didn’t want him to give up this particular body. You didn’t want to play this particular game of Russian Roulette. His body right now was perfect…from his hair to his toes. Like it was personally designed to drive you mad. A sexy, silver fox with dynamic light eyes and a smile that robbed you of the ability to breathe, plus that voice like was a good motorcycle engine. And, a perfect package that hit right in the right spots…

You were objectifying an immortal alien.

What had your life become?

“That shit’s…crazy.” You gave an exceedingly reductive statement.

“No promises, but I’ll try.” He gave you a small, reassuring smile…

“Before precious Rose, there was his wife, that Scottish lad, that journalist Sarah Jane Smith, me, that ginger twink who’s name escapes me and probably a few I’m forgetting! And after there was-” Missy smiled a positively evil grin.

You put your hand up and stopped her from going into any more detail.

“Sarah Jane Smith? The mega-journo who always had the hottest stories? The one who was always leaking the top bylines?” You instinctively tore off your thumb nail.

You kept putting your hands up and down. Going to point a finger. You felt like a malfunctioning kettle.

“W-w-what? Do you…see in me?” You raised both of your hands up as you shrugged and struggled. “Universe traveling blondes? Award-winning journalists? A ginger twink? This jailbird?” You voice scaling up octaves to those only dogs could hear as you slapped your hands over your thighs and grasped them tightly…

You started those dratted breathing exercises and placed your right hand on your only heart.

The Doctor seemed to be sorting through some sort of dilemma in his mind.

“Yeah, tell her!” Missy cheered.

You shot her a murderous glare.

She scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue.

“I see you as warmth. You are yourself. I see you as someone who’s good. Despite it all. A good student and a great partner. Someone to enjoy while I can. Nothing to complicate or drag into danger.”

Something about these words and his gaze into you had you fighting these words, but becoming placated by them. They were like a cozy quilt on your worries…

“I’ve put others I loved in danger. Learned those lessons. Never again.”

You felt your mind slowing down from the anger and self-doubt.

It felt like truthfulness. You’d take truthfulness.

The looks that Missy and the Doctor passed between each other has you shiver in fear.

You felt like you needed to vomit.

“Can I go home now?” You squeaked out once you felt a but more emotionally regulated.

“Of course.” He helped you up and turned to Missy, “No tuba.” He told her.

She raged on a bit as you felt yourself being tucked into his side and escorted out.

You leaned against a wall as he locked the Vault up.

He folded you under his arm.

“So what do you think of my best enemy?”

You felt yourself feeling suddenly very sleepy and like you had been dreaming. You were very conflicted and of many minds. You would have to work through all this later. There was just so much information and new thoughts that needed evaluated. Though you felt something holding you back from it. The emotional toll of the past few days, inevitably catching up to you.

What was that something was holding you back?

Probably your love of the Doctor.

You felt yourself crying.

“Why don’t I walk you to your flat? What’s the address?” He wiped your face with some old-fashioned looking hankie.

You gave him your address. It was a longer walk, but maybe it would do you good.

You started to walk. It was going somewhat smoothly.

After a silent walk, you stated as you got closer to the safety of your home. “I think she’s insane. Probably it’s for the best she’s in that…situation. Like sectioning, but worse? She could be fun, if she tried. I feel…yeah. I mean, if you’re a package deal. A bit weird she’s your ex. But yeah.” You answered his previous question.

“Is she a threat? To me?” You asked, jealously.

“No, we’re finished. Ancient news far older than your civilization…”

“Ah, okay.” You felt more satisfied.

“She is quite…pretty.” You remarked.

“Hadn’t noticed.”

You nodded, as you arrived to the front door.

“This is me.” You pointed. “You…want to come up? Get a night cap. I know I’m going to need it.” You joked, as you used your pinky nail to scratch the bridge of your nose.

“Not tonight. How about after you finish exams? I still have to some things done in that regards.”

“Valid.”

He leaned down and pressed hip lips to your forehead.

“Good-night, (y/n).” He smiled as he closed his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze.

“Good-night, Doctor.” It still felt strange to not call him ‘Professor’. You didn’t know how to feel. Calling him ‘Professor’ felt better coming off your tongue.

So much to over-analyze.

You opened the door and went up to your flat. After pouring yourself a large shot of vodka to take, you laid on your favorite chair and zoned out.

So much for a normal, nice time at university!

[iris0gardens]

✩Call it a home✩ wd2 Wrench x Reader

"if I can choose my family, it'll be with you guys. you are my family"

TW/TAGS: Romance, mentions of abuse, softcore uwu, gender neutral terms for reader

description: Reader came to a dedsec hangout after a successful heist where they helped remotely. All of the group went to the beach and hung out on a rooftop of a building, sharing drinks and jokes. Wrench was happy to see them.

inspired by: tonight by Daniel Blume (listen to it, its a bop)

Laughter was heard in the distance as Y/N approached the party, their clothing casual as they had a box of beer underneath one of their arms. The heist on blume went successful and they got the CEO arrested for misuse of power. Finally they could enjoy life without enemies in their back, live and love as they wanted without the fear of losing them.

Y/N felt a small smile creeping up their face as they got to the ladder leading them up to their friends they have been running around with for the past couple months. They quickly fixed their hair with their free hand and proceeded to climb the ladder with one hand which was impressive as they still held the box of beer.

As they got to the top, a hand was held down towards them to help, when they looked up, they saw the smiling face of Marcus and so they took his hand. "Ayyy Y/N, didn't think you'd show up at all. Glad you made it!" he greeted them with a pat on their back as he went back to the group. "Well Marcus, Who know finding an open store with a box of beer was hard" they replied sarcastically as their smile got bigger and they proceeded to put the box down.

"N/NNNNN!" A robotic voice called out as Y/N got tackled into a hug, falling backwards a little bit. "IM SO GLAD YOU MADE IT!!!" Once clear on who it was, Y/N laughed and greeted their best friend and partner, Wrench. "Hey, I texted ya I will be here, babe" they went ahead to pat Wrench`s head as he tightly held onto them. Now was the time to analyse their surroundings and they saw the usual dedsec followers and in the middle surrounding a fireplace were their best friends. "Wrench..wanna go to them now?" they asked softly as they looked ahead with awe. Their H/C softly flowing in the wind as Wrench let go of them. "pfft right. right. alright come on!" he replied and took their hand, dragging them to the group.

"fucking finally Y/N, thought Wrench caught you and dragged you away" Sitara called out with laughter laced in her voice as she waved at the couple approaching the group. Josh simply waved with a small yet nervous smile and Marcus just laughed at Sitaras Statement. "Hey! I would've if you guys didn't see them yet" Wrench called out offended by the accusation however made no effort at all to hide it. Y/N shook their head, a small laugh escaping their lips as they sat down in the circle, Wrench quick to follow to sit next to them. "Nah, I just got caught up in buying us more beer to down and get drunk of" They explained and glanced around.

"fair enough...guys, might I say we are the finest group ever. We finally got the freedom america deserved and took down those bastards that wanted to take it from us" Marcus spoke out and held his bottle high in victory. His expression full of pride and happiness of their victory. "Thats right! Without any of us here, San fran wouldve gotten deeper into a shithole and im glad we got it out!"Sitara cheered out as fellow dedsec followers proceeded to cheer in return, holding their drinks up. Wrenchs LED eyes changed into a happy `"˄˄" as he slowly took Y/N hand into his "Glad I met you in this fuckery." he whispered to them softly as he looked towards them.

A small blush crept onto Y/N face as he spoke admirations towards them. +Is he drunk?+ they thought as they observed Wrench's behaviour carefully. "Wrench? are you drunk already?" they asked in a whisper, leaning towards his ear a little bit with a small smile.

"pfft, maybe.."Wrench muttered, looking down while his LEDs changed to "_ _" before returning to a cheerful expression. "NOW LET THE PARTY BEGINNNN"He cheered as he held his bottle high, cheers erupting around them again.

-Time skip , the crew had a couple of drinks and played truth or dare.-

"alright Y/N. Truth or dare?" Marcus leaned forward with a devious smirk as he put his hands onto his knees. Y/N took a second to pounder before replying "TRUTH" and pointing towards Marcus with a drunken smile. "what was your childhood like, girly?" The male replied as he leaned back a bit, letting go off his knees.

"uh..cant remember much before i ran away. A dark room and uh..yelling?" Y/N scratched the back of their head while replying, seemingly not remember much of their childhood at all. "That's okay. You get to choose who your family is, Y/N. It doesn't matter if the past hurts, all that matters is the future and who you are with." Sitara proceeded to reply and smiled at her as Josh decided to lean against her shoulder to rest, nodding towards Y/N in agreement.

"if I can choose my family, it'll be with you guys. you are my family" Y/N proceeded to blur out with a big smile and held their hands high before letting themselves fall back. They now were laying on the concrete roof, looking up at the clear sky of San fran as the stars seemed to welcome them out. Their masked partner took a second to progress before enthusiastically replying "yeah! and I'm glad to have a badass partner on top of that in this fucked up family" Wrench joined Y/N in laying down, going for their hand again as he gave them a soft squeeze.

The others decided to join them in laying down and talked about random topics, like the stars or what they'll do tomorrow or in the future. What all they can agree on is that they'll always stick together and have a badass headache tomorrow.

-AND ANOTHER ONE LADIES AND GENTS AND NONBINARY PALS. I really enjoy writing those oneshots for you guys and cant wait to show yall some more :)-

-not keen on constructive critism as I do this as a way to enjoy myself and share it, so PLEASE NO COMMENT ON MY WRITING STYLE UNLESS ITS A GRAMMER ERROR. THAMK YOUU-

[sweetsweetjellybean]

In The Cold November Rain Part 10 *18+ MDNI*

Eddie Munson/FemReader Steve Harrington/FemReader 

TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end.*Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any. Smut-o-rama

Can you have two great loves in a lifetime? 

You've had the ideal childhood in Hawkins with your best friend & protector Steve Harrington. When it's ripped away, can you pick up the pieces? Eddie Munson may be able to help. 

A story about the pain of growing up, unrequited love, and loss. 

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AN: If you'd like to keep seeing my content, remember to change your content settings.

Inspired by @loveshotzz & notes by @eddieandbird 

Thanks To @loveshotzz who is the dill to my pickle & her wife @myobmaya for assisting the angst.

Part 10/13. Masterlist Ao3

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On a warm day in early June, you sit listening to the valedictorian give their speech. Looking down the rows of seats at the happy faces of your classmates, a pair of hazel eyes catch yours with a wink. Shaking your head, you try to pay attention. This is the last time you'll all be together in any meaningful way. Some of you have known each other since kindergarten. Everyone who has ever been important to you is here. Everyone except Eddie. He didn't tell you he wasn't graduating, but he didn't have to. Enough people knew that it eventually made its way to you. There was nothing left to say, so you never brought it up.

Crossing the stage wearing your green gown with a gold cord and your cap that has been painted with a black and gold P, you shake the principal's hand as you accept your diploma. Steve whistles loudly, and your family claps and cheers. They're waiting for you in the parking lot after the ceremony. Your dad hands you a bouquet of sunflowers. Carol's mother has just finished wishing you well when you turn and see your dad holding Steve in a tight embrace. With watery eyes, he tells him how proud he is, that he always thought of him as a son and that he'll always be there for him. When your dad is finished, Steve is looking a bit misty himself. He gives you an awkward hug, and your mother insists on taking at least a dozen photos of the two of you. Caps on, caps off, holding your diplomas, arms around each other, and your favorite, one with your tongues sticking out and eyes crossed. That picture still holds a place of honor on your parent's refrigerator, held up with an alphabet letter magnet. By the time your mother is finished, any uneasiness has faded, and he pulls you in for a real hug with his hand on the back of your head, all the warm, familiar feelings rushing back.

"You did it!" He says, ruffling your hair.

"So did you," you remind him, trying to smooth your hair back into place.

"Barley. Not like you, Miss High Honors."

"It doesn't matter. It's done, and they can't take that diploma away from you now."

He nods in agreement. "You know, I was thinking about you the other day."

"Oh, yeah? What were you thinking?" You squint up at him, raising a hand above your brow to shield your eyes from the sun.

"I don't know, actually. I just caught myself smiling for no reason and realized I was thinking about you." He tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

You run your tongue along your teeth and cock your head to the side. "That is the cheesiest line I have ever heard, Steve Harrington." He laughs and grins down at you. "Really? I thought it was a pretty good one. I'll have to work on it."

"Yeah, you better," you say, pushing his shoulder.

"Are you going out tonight? Be careful. Don't wander around outside by yourself, and don't take drinks from people you don't know." You roll your eyes. "You don't have to worry about me, Dad. I don't think those kinds of parties are really on my thing anymore."

"Yeah. They're not mine either." There is something different about him. "If I don't see you around this summer, good luck at Purdue."

"You're not coming to dinner with us? Enzo's has your favorite breadsticks." You knew your dad had invited him earlier, and you can't hide the disappointment in your voice. "I can't. I have someone waiting. I wanted to make sure I got to say goodbye to you." It felt strangely final. "Okay, well, good luck to you too." He gives you a tight smile and starts walking towards a smiling boy with brown curly hair. The boy gives you a little wave, and you wave back. It was then you realized he was alone. Steve's parents hadn't attended the ceremony.

"Steve. Wait." You jog over to him. "Are you okay?" The corners of his pretty mouth turn up in a warm grin. "Don't worry about me. I'm always okay." Was he trying to convince you or himself? A voice inside you is screaming that something isn't right. Worried, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you for another hug. "Take care of yourself," you say into his ear before kissing his cheek. "You too. Go have some fun, yeah?" He rubs his hands up and down your back a few times before releasing you. He turns away and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder before heading to his car.

***

The summer passed like a song turned up to full volume. Obligations and preparation kept you from where you wanted to be, and where you wanted to be was with Eddie. Floating on a sea of unspoken words, you made the minutes count. Taking late-night drives on less traveled roads, no destinations in mind, just talking for hours. Sneaking kisses behind Gareth's garage when you interrupted band practice. Letting Eddie get you naked for a few very hot quickies in Rick's pool house after swimming. Or just laying on his bare chest, counting his heartbeats while he reads aloud. Faster than it seemed possible, it's time to start saying goodbye.

"Hiya, Lou."

"Hey there, Dolly." Lou slides a Budweiser across the sacred wooden bar towards you. You place a few dollars on the bar. "It's on the house, Sweetheart. Good Luck at Purdue, and don't be a stranger."

"Aww. Thanks, Lou. How did you know I was leaving?" You ask curiously.

"Old Lou knows everything."

The nights have begun to cool, but it's balmy inside the half-full bar. Regulars take up the seats at the bar, and a small group of men are playing pool. A few tables are filled with couples and friends sharing a weeknight drink. Settling in at your usual table, you wait for Corroded Coffin to take the stage. The band plays a great set. They include some of the new songs you've heard them practicing. Eddie shows off more than usual. Swinging his hair and jumping around. He moves right towards the edge of the stage during his solos, sticking his tongue out while he concentrates on the movement of his fingers and winking at you. His bare arms look incredible in his muscle shirt. Biting your lip, you gaze at him from under your lashes.

After packing up, the band slides into the chairs at your table, sipping beer, coming down from the performance high. The boys are in a rowdy mood. Joking, teasing, and pointing out each other's small mistakes during their show. Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet. He's just watching you with a content look on his face. He's making you blush, and you try hiding it from the other guys. Eventually, they are ready to take off. They take turns hugging you goodbye. This is likely the last time they'll see you until you come home for winter break. The bar empties out, but you and Eddie linger, finishing your drinks.

He stands and walks over to the jukebox pulling some change out of his pocket.

"Alright, Ed," Lou calls out from behind the bar.

"Thanks, Lou," Eddie says while pushing buttons to make his selections. Lou walks over to the door and flicks the light switch. The light from fluorescents is replaced by dozens of twinkling white lights stapled to the ceiling casting the bar in a soft glow. You look up in awe. I'm Not In Love by 10cc plays through the speaker.

"What's all this?" You ask as his gentle calloused fingers slide against your palms before they close around your hands, pulling you up from your seat. He wraps your arms around his neck, and his hands drop to your hips. All the while, those chocolate eyes swirl with emotion, never breaking contact with yours. He starts swaying from side to side, and you nearly swoon.

"What's all what?" He feigns. Lifting a brow, you give the back of his neck a squeeze. "Oh, this. I told Lou how I missed prom and the senior ball, and he was absolutely appalled that you never asked me. We figured this was my last chance to get in a dance before you go off to the big city and forget me."

Your throat is so tight you can't speak, and tears threaten to spill over the edges of your eyelids. He sings the words in your ear as you move.

I'm not in love

So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

And just because I call you up

Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made

I'm not in love

The old wooden floorboards creak softly as your weight shifts from foot to foot. His hands are low on your waist, thumb dipping under your shirt where he moves it back and forth across your skin. His soft curls tickle the back of the hand you've got around his neck. If you could stop time, you'd live forever in this moment, happy with him for the rest of your life.

I like to see you

But then again

That doesn't mean you mean that much to me

So if I call you

Don't make a fuss

Don't tell your friends about the two of us

I'm not in love, no no, it's because..

The song changes to Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. The wet drops run down your face. "Hey now, none of that. Don't you remember what I told you would happen if I saw you crying again? Now I'm gonna have to kiss you." His hands move to your cheeks. He uses his thumbs to swipe at your tears before moving his lips over yours. You tighten your grip and try pouring everything you feel into that kiss.

"I can't believe you did this," you say, your voice quavering.

"Well, it's for me, not you. I don't want to have spent six years in high school without dancing with a girl. Since you're here, I guess you'll do."

"Is that right?" You quip, smiling and wiping away the last few tears with the back of your hand. "You know me. I take it where I can get it," he says, spinning you under his arm.

"Well, I'm pretty certain you're gonna get it tonight," you whisper in his ear.

"I'm looking forward to it." His thumb softly traces your bottom lip.

"Eddie, there's something I want you to know. I-"

"It's alright, Princess. You don't have to say anything. Let's just dance."

The following day you leave the trailer early and drive straight to Ivy Tech community college.

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Part 11

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @totally-bogus-timelady

I'll tag you if you want! Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear from you.

[thegayhimbo]

2024 Academy Awards Thoughts:

I was pleased Oppenheimer won Best Picture. TBF, it was a well-done film (and one of the best movies of 2023 IMO), and since it swept the other award ceremonies, I figured it had a chance tonight. I also would have been happy if Barbie had won.

Ditto for Christopher Nolan winning Best Director. I'm still irked about Greta Gerwig getting snubbed, but I don't begrudge Nolan his win. He deserved it.

I expected Cillian Murphy to win for Best Actor, but I was caught off-guard by Emma Stone winning for Poor Things. I had expected Lily Gladstone to win the Award for Killers of the Flower Moon.

I'm glad RDJ won for Best Supporting Actor. He did a brilliant job in Oppenheimer playing a character who initially seems like a well-meaning ally, only to reveal just how petty, hypocritical, and self-centered he truly was.

I am so grateful 20 Days In Mariupol won for Best Documentary Feature Film. With everything that's going on in Ukraine, as well as the fuckery of Republicans holding up essential aid for Ukraine, this is a documentary that needs to be seen. It's disturbing, powerful, and does not shy away from the horrors and atrocities Russia is committing against Ukraine. You can watch the documentary here.

Wasn't surprised Oppenheimer won for Best Original Score. Or that "What Was I Made For?" from Barbie won for Best Original Song. They were both deserved wins.

Ditto for Oppenheimer getting the awards for Cinematography and Film Editing.

I haven't seen The Boy and the Heron (it's on my "To Watch" list), but considering Miyazaki's track record of beautiful Japanese animated films (Howl's Moving Castle, Spirited Away, etc), I expect it will be just as fantastic as his other movies.

Jimmy Kimmel was a good host for the Oscars. I didn't have a problem with him compared to other past hosts who've tried to be edgy and controversial, only to fall flat or straight-up embarrass themselves. Not all of his jokes were funny, but he still got some good laughs.

Overall, a decent award ceremony.

[madefate]

Despite his dirty talk - which Blitz prides himself on and willy continue to do so - his motions are always careful ; tonight, they're extra soft. Tender, meticulous, checking a little more than he usually does when he's tying or rigging - thorough checkins are a must whenever you're doing something like this and he never slouches on safety, but tonight it's more than that. It's the quiet, reassuring touches - tender brushes against Stolas' arm, holding his hand before and after he finishes a tie, even idly talking through what he's doing, tone light and easy and nothing like the fuckery they've notoriously made their own.

Stolas hasn't said much about Striker and that fucking ordeal, and Blitz hasn't said much about his guilt and his worry - the gut punch that was realizing what it meant when an immortal prince was at the mercy of angelic weapons. - When he'd learned that Stolas could get hurt. If that wasn't enough to sign Striker's death warrant in his own mind, targeting Fizz not that long after was the nail in the goddamn coffin. Honestly, the dark, bitter, protective instincts that flared up when he'd thought about Striker getting his hands on Stolas - when he'd been willing to drive against traffic to put an end to it - should have made his feelings obvious to himself.

But at least they're here, now. As he finishes, he quietly thanks Stolas for trusting him - not just in this moment, but after ... everything. After every way that Blitz has failed, has brought more pain into his life - has made Stolas feel, even for a moment, less than when he was the one that deserved better.

At Stolas' gratitude, Blitz's expression softens. ❝ I'm coming up behind you, ❞ he says gently, then drapes his arms over Stolas' shoulders and brings him back against his own chest, careful not to put too much pressure on his bound arms, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek when he's close enough, feeling the spot where downy feathers give way to the silkiest blindfold he's ever used ( having connections to the best purveyor of sex toys in all the rings is actually pretty damn nice ).

❝ I mean it, Stols. I don't - take this shit lightly. ❞ He runs a hand down Stolas' arm, hoping to find the muscles relaxing at least a little. ❝ You're in charge, here. You always are - always have been. If you want to stop, just wanna break, wanna change it up - that's your call. I'm going to take care of you tonight. ❞

// @discoinfernos &. cont.

[dragonmuse]

@dimoverdelerium suggested: (thinking about BBC Uncle) is there any verse where Izzy takes up drag? Ideally I think this would be Stede/Izzy or Stede/Izzy/Eddy.

H'OKAY SO! I set this in I know about popular. So Stede/Izzy/Eddy, but the sex wound up being Lucius/Izzy. Hope that works for you! This gets explicit. There is a scene that is very quickly negotiated, but not in a way visible to the reader that has some mean talk, roleplaying an affair, gender fuckery,

The worst part about it was that he hadn’t even been drinking. He wasn’t even offered anything in particular. No bribe. They were just prepping for the night, Izzy hanging around the bar when Leda came out, lips pursed. 

“Buttons just called out sick,” he told Lucius. “And that’s on top of John and Frenchie being on vacation. We’ll be terribly short.” 

“So do a few extra numbers,” Lucius shrugged. “Or I can see if anyone can come in at the last minute.” 

“Everyone was already doing something additional or new tonight, I don’t want to overtax them, but I think it’s a hair too late to call in someone else. I really did want to deliver a full show tonight after last week’s debacle.” 

Izzy had missed last week, a rare occurrence, but it had been a series of accidents and errors culminating in the sound system dying. No one had come home happy and Izzy had heard about it from every side. 

“Let me call around,” Lucius decided. “I’ll let you know.” 

Izzy watched as Lucius went through a roster of names, his sigh getting heavier with every call. Then he disappeared into the changing room. The Kraken and Leda emerged with him a few minutes later. Their voices were all overlapping, so Izzy tried to tune them all out. 

Mistake. The next time he looked up because silence had fallen, all three of them were leveraging him with identical speculative looks. 

“No,” he said defensively, despite having no idea what the look was for. 

“Just for one show, Iz,” Eddy gave him her best wide-eyed plea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous, I promise.” 

Oh fuck no. 

“C’mon, storm cloud,” Lucuis waggled his eyebrows. “You’re not scared are you?” 

“You do it then,” he challenged Lucius. 

“Nope, I’ve got other duties. You’re just weighing down a barstool.” 

“I don’t work for any of you,” he reiterated. 

“Darling,” Stede said softly. “Aren’t you even a little curious?” 

No. No, he wasn’t. Izzy knew what he looked like. He wouldn’t be a lady like Leda or a vampy knockout like Eddy. He’d be his mother, probably. What a nightmare. He opened his mouth to tell them that, but no one was looking at him like this was a joke. They seemed earnest. Leda looked a little desperate. 

He looked down into his water. 

“I won’t let them make you look or feel bad,” Lucius was at his back. How did he do that? It was like Izzy’s defenses didn’t even register him as a threat.  “Okay?” 

“Don’t know how you’re going to do that.” 

“C’mon, storm cloud, try something new. We talked about trying new things, right?” 

“...fine,” he conceded and got a kiss on his swallow tattoo for his trouble. 

Fuck. He was so goddamn easy to lockpick now. Maybe the door was just hanging open. 

“I’m gonna do your makeup,” the Kraken decided, pure joy in her voice. Izzy just nodded heavily and accepted her hand when it crossed into his vision. 

The dressing room was not one of Izzy’s favorite places. Too many competing smells, noise and a high chaos level made it almost unbearable. But the Kraken didn’t take him there. Instead, she tugged him to the little side table near the stage entrance that was usually where Alma and Charlie would park themselves when they spent any time at the bar. 

“Stay,” the Kraken said firmly. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Can you walk in heels?” Leda asked, sitting down across from her. She was in baby blue tonight, one of her frothy ball gowns that rustled every time she moved. 

“No,” Izzy rubbed a hand over his eyes. 

“Darling, you know you’re wearing heels right now. Those boots aren’t fooling anyone.” 

“Short ones.” 

“We can work with short,” she decided. “No need to risk your ankles when you’re already doing us a favor. Now. I need a list of songs that you’re very familiar with.” 

“....why?” Izzy stared at her. 

“You can’t just stand on the stage and do nothing. A lip sync to a song you already know should do it unless you have a stage worthy talent that you’ve heretofore kept to yourself.” 

“...oh fuck,” he groaned. 

“You’ll be fine,” Leda assured him very briskly. “You’ll see. It’s not like going out there in your own skin.” 

“Whose skin would it be?” 

“Excellent question, actually. You’ll need a name too, but let’s focus on a song first.” 

Izzy just said the first few songs that came to his head that didn’t have a male singer and Leda seized on one. She turned it on and made him listen to it as the Kraken re-emerged with a heavy makeup bag, took his chin in her talons and started gently slapping his face around. 

“Just look at me,” she suggested. 

“But-”

“It’ll make for a good distraction,” she grinned. 

Studying Eddy’s face was one of the great pleasures of Izzy’s life and he was rarely allowed to indulge as long as he’d like before she was moving somewhere else, getting annoyed about it or kissing him to distraction.  Tonight, she was focused and had something to do and he could look as long as he liked. It almost made all of this worth it. Vaguely he registered Leda hammering at him about the song, but mostly he was staring at Eddy.

The Kraken’s makeup was heavy and settled into some Eddy’s deeper wrinkles, but smoothed away some other small imperfections. She had apparently decided against a wig tonight, her natural hair caught up in a complicated updo that probably had some kind of foam base beneath it given the height. Some of her tendrils hung down around her face, softening her cheekbones. There were gray hairs sneaking into her eyebrows. 

Her eyes were all over his face too, intent on their work and it was nearly hypnotic. 

“Okay, got to close ‘em now,” she said, tapping him on the nose with a brush. 

“Hm?” 

“Close your eyes, Iz,” she repeated, a little more tenderly. 

He closed them with a sigh. It was only once he’d shut her out that he became aware he had a raging hard on. Figured. Wet things smeared over his eyes and it took a lot of his willpower not to flinch away. The Kraken wouldn’t hurt him like this. Not anymore, anyway. Not with Leda watching. Not without permission.  It wasn’t life or death, just a little game they played that had clear rules and hard stops. 

“Oh, good idea, dear heart,” Leda murmured. 

“I’m a genius with this shit,” the Kraken agreed. “Talked to Pete and she’s got that like one slinky thing that she never wears, but she keeps here like she might?” 

“I know just the one,” Leda’s voice was close, practically on his cheek. “I’ll get my extra padding out of storage to go with it. If we need to cut it down, we can, I don’t really need it.” 

“Thanks, love.” 

He heard Leda’s heels clack away. The Kraken was doing something to his eyebrows again. 

“Did that already.” 

“You’ve got thick brows,” the Kraken said, amused. “Got to get them glued down.” 

“How do you do that?” 

“With glue.” 

Izzy exhaled slowly, “How do I get that out?” 

“Soap and water,” she assured him. “You know. A lot of it.” 

“Great.” 

“We’ll get you cleaned up after,” she assured him. Then she was leaning in and blowing slowly over his eyebrows, the stream of air sending all his hair on its end. “Too bad though, could be hot with you in a skirt.” 

“I-” 

“Another time maybe,” the Kraken said amused. “Maybe just a skirt instead of the whole getup.” 

Izzy had no idea what to say to that. He liked getting up under Eddy’s skirts. Leda’s were generally gone before anything naked happened. Stede didn’t seem interested in that. Eddy obviously did. What about the other queens? Was that something they did? Questions bred in his head, but he stored them away. For another time. For a...

Hm. 

“All right, there we go. You hold on there, I’m going to go get a wig cap and a wig,” the Kraken got up. Before walking off, she reached out, cupped his throat in his hand. “You look beautiful, Iz.”

“Sure,” he said without much faith. 

“You’ll see.” 

She was only gone a few seconds, not long enough for regret and worry to pour in, before Leda was there in her place, holding a garment bag and some ominously shaped pieces of foam. 

“I was thinking we could get you changed behind the curtain,” she suggested. “Private and away from the other girls.” 

“...yeah fine.” 

He followed Leda backstage. They’d fucked here more than once (Stede had some kind of stage fetish, Izzy was almost certain), but he’d never skinned out of his clothes when it was open to the public. 

It made wiggling into pantyhose less strange, if only because he was not interested in staying that vulnerable for any length of time. The much padded bra that Leda helped him into was uncomfortable, but oddly reminiscent of a holster. The dress was....a dress. It was a deep burgundy and made of something silky. There was a slit in one thigh which was laughable considering it was already pretty short.  It had sleeves at least, short ones, but there. The neckline was conservative too, not showing off his chest hair. 

“There you are!” the Kraken laughed. “I thought maybe he ran off.” 

“Not yet,” Leda smiled so hard that her eyes crinkled up which was, as always, adorable. Asshole. “I have his boots anyway.” 

“Wouldn’t stop him. Iz once ran through the streets of Berlin barefoot in just his underwear and a gun holster.” 

“You going to tell her why?” Izzy asked archly. 

“...anyway!” The Kraken produced a mound of hair. “I’ve got a wig for you.” 

“Dear heart,” Leda’s smile grew impossibly larger. “What did you do?”

“She found a-” 

“Shhh, Iz, don’t move or I might STAB you with a bobby pin.” 

“You brought it up,” he pointed out, aware he was smiling just as broadly as Leda. 

“He’s right,” Leda agreed. “You must tell me at some point.”

“I’ll tell you when he’s on stage.” 

“Oh, I think you should tell me when Izzy is with us, dear heart. I’d love to hear both sides.” 

“Their side has more nudity,” Izzy informed her. 

The bobby pin did dig in a little, but Izzy figured it was worth it to hear Leda giggling. It wasn’t Izzy’s fault that Leda asked him follow up questions after the Kraken told her a story.  It wasn’t as if the Kraken would want him to lie to their beloved spouse. 

A heavy hat of hair was settled on his head. It was hot. He was itchy. 

“Here,” Leda kneeled down in front of him which was a little distracting. “Foot.” 

Izzy took a second. She tapped on the top of his foot. He offered it feeling a little ridiculous as a black heel was shoved unceremoniously onto it. He stepped into the next one himself. They were higher than his boots, but not by much. They were a sensible black  and had a strap so he didn’t feel like they were going to fall off. 

The Kraken and Leda both took a step back from him. They still towered over him, but nothing short of a stepladder was going to fix that. 

“Huh,” Leda tilted her head. “That is...uncanny.” 

“What?” he crossed his arms over his chest, only to encounter scratchy beads and padding. 

“You look just like your sister,” the Kraken declared. “But hotter. Not that your sister- okay. I don’t have a save for this. Help me out here.” 

“You look like a very lovely feminine version of yourself,” Leda said smoothly. “Do you want to see?” 

Izzy didn’t really, but he allowed himself to be trooped down the stairs and into the dressing room. The hubbub of the room came to a dead halt as they stepped inside. Roach dropped the necklace she’d been in the process of putting on. The Menace’s heels stopped tapping against the filing cabinet.

He was about to growl something and stomp out when he caught sight of someone in the full length mirror at the end of the room. For a moment...fuck, he did look like Delly. Stepping closer though and he saw the differences. The wig for one, which was one of the Kraken’s, was much longer and not at all Delly’s style. It was long, hanging down almost to his elbows and lightly curled, some of it was looped back in braids which was almost pretty. 

The makeup was way overblown, but...it was all right. Not the Kraken’s gothic nightmare and not Leda’s Marie Antoinette powder. It was more like the Kraken had genuinely tried to make Izzy beautiful. 

His cheeks were hollower somehow, his cheekbones glowing gold and the lightest pink. His lips had been overdrawn into something like full without being clownish, painted a warm brownish-pink, closer to this natural lip color than either of them wore. The eye look was smoky, drawn out at the sides, making his eyes look further set apart and more open than usual, even with the heavy lashes. His skin was smoothed into something like an even tone. 

The press on nails Leda had produced weren’t as long as the ones she or the Kraken wore. They were a glossy black tipped in silver sparkles. The Kraken pulled a lacy choker from her pocket and it went around Izzy’z neck like a sensuous promise. Cinched, it was just tight enough to be a reminder of who had put it there. 

Izzy’s heart beat double time. 

“Pics or it didn’t happen!” Roach declared and then there was a flash. 

“Jesus fuck,” Izzy groaned, but he was about to get on stage in this getup. Pictures would be the minimum of how this would get recorded. 

“Somethings missing,” Roach frowned, looking down at her phone. Her wig was made of cigarettes today and the dress was white and brown to match. 

“I was thinking of more jewelry,” Leda frowned. “Maybe a bracelet?” 

“No, I got it!” Roach grabbed a pencil and was suddenly there in Izzy’s face, smelling beguilingly of tobacco. Izzy could use smoke. He hadn’t smoked in fifteen years, but his teeth itched for it now. “Hold still.” 

And Izzy...just did. Goddamnit. What had he become? Roach put the pencil about an inch above below Izzy’s eye and ground it in, then rocked back on her heels. “Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

“Huh,” the Kraken grabbed Izzy’s chin and examined his face. “It is better. I think the foundation covering up your tattoo fucked with how I think you’re supposed to look. That helps.” 

“Very classic,” Leda approved. 

Izzy turned to the mirror. Roach had added a mole. It did look right, not far off from where his tattoo should be visible. 

He didn’t look like himself at all. The heels changed his center of gravity a little. The bra pulled at him with his regular posture, so he threw his shoulders back a little. The padding gave curves, softly rounded hips and a bit of ass that he’d never had. 

The dress was so fucking short, cutting off just a few inches below his dick (which he had not let Leda tuck, the dress wasn’t that tight and he had his limits. Two pairs of pantyhose did plenty of work there anyway). When he reached up to touch the choker, his hand was held in an almost entirely different shape in deference to the nails. The gesture took on an elegance.  

“I get it,” he said quietly, so his voice wouldn’t ruin the illusion. 

“Get what, darling?” Leda fussed over the wig, resettling the hair. 

“Why you like this. It’s just...being someone else. For a bit.”

“Yes,” Leda smiled at her in the mirror. “A little of that, I must admit. It’s a vacation.” 

Carefully, Izzy reached up and pushed a lock of dark hair away from the eyelashes. It all made him want to hold himself diffently.

Be different. 

“Raine Daze.” He said, more to himself than to her. 

“What’d you say?” 

The Kraken slid their hand over Raine’s stomach, pulled her in tight. Leda reached out to fluff out a bit of the wig.  The three of them made an interesting picture. In their hands, Raine didn’t look like a pugnacious fighter. 

Instead, Raine looked almost delicate. Certainly petite. No one would make fun of her for that or imply she had a complex. Women were allowed to be small and careful. Even if they had broad shoulders and a pronounced brow.  

“That’s my drag name,” he said a little more firmly, “Raine Daze.” 

Plenty of women their age had smoked too much once upon a time. Add a little breath in and softening around some vowels and it was no harder than doing some foolish accent to fool someone on the phone. He did that all the time for work. It didn’t sound any stranger than the way Leda talked or how Pete sometimes climbed into a full on falsetto when she was really getting into things. 

“Very clever,” Leda praised. “Don’t you think, dear heart?” 

“Suits you,” the Kraken agreed, hand rubbing over Raine’s stomach for a slow contemplative moment. “Yeah. It’s good.” 

It felt good. Why did it feel good? Izzy didn’t want to be a woman, wasn’t interested in the trappings, but it felt...risky. And he did love an adrenaline rush. 

“Put this on,” Leda thrust a bracelet at him. 

Izzy didn’t take it right away. Leda paused, bewildered, then shook it at him a little and then with a frown, he did take it. But a part of him wanted to refuse it. Not because he didn’t want it. Just to be a little difficult. 

Which was very very odd. He usually wanted to be good for Leda. To get told that he’d done well. He might really want that most of all from Lucius, but he craved it from Leda and the Kraken too. That part of him was immutable, as embarrassing as it sometimes was. He put on the bracelet with a frown. The Kraken’s hold tightened as if catching his mood.

“I put you on in the middle of things,” Leda laced her fingers through his, holding his hand, oblivious. “So you have twenty minutes or so to go over your song. Or wait in the wings. Whatever you want, darling.” 

“All right.” 

He didn’t realize that meant they were leaving until they were gone. Until he was alone with the woman in the mirror. Leaning in, he studied her face more closely. He got used to the nails as ran his hands over the beaded dress, over his arms,  and more sheepishly, the mounded breasts. With a quick glance to make sure everyone was really gone, he practiced walking in the low heels. They made his hips sway and when he walked back towards the mirror, it felt more natural to put one hand on his newly shaped hip. 

One of Roach’s cigarettes had fallen to the floor. Izzy picked it up and held it between his fingers. The gesture worked well in the mirror. He smiled at her. She smiled back. She pressed play on her phone and listened to the song. Let it move her. Why pretend she didn’t know how to dance? 

After three repetitions, she stopped it and took the cigarette out with her. The show was in full swing with Teal and the Menace doing their new tango number, where they passed a knife back and forth between their lips. 

The Kraken was waiting in the wings and when Raine came close, she was snagged tight to the Kraken’s side again. 

“You don’t have to,”  the whisper came in the dark. “I told Leda already, we could just do another number. No one will...I didn’t think you’d get this far.” 

“I did. I’m here,” Raine said without any hint of tightness or stress. She felt none. She was loose. She was easy. Raine could be easy. “I’m ready.” 

“Fuck me running,” the Kraken laughed without sound. “You’re amazing.” 

“You too. Always.” 

They couldn’t kiss with all the makeup and hair in the way, but Raine felt like they had anyway. 

“And now,” Lucius’ voice rolled over the P.A. system, “a debut act for all of your titillation and adulation. Please give it up for.... Raineeeeeee Daze!” 

The music started and Raine stepped out on stage. The lights were bright. She couldn’t see the audience and that was perfect.  Guitar kicked off and she grabbed the mic, cigarette still in hand. She pretended to take a drag, blowing out imaginary smoke before mouthing into the mic:  

So this ain't the end, I saw you again, today

I had to turn my heart away

The cigarette fell to the stage, ground beneath her heel. 

Smiled like the sun, kisses for everyone

And tales, it never fails

It wasn’t hard to vamp around the stage. Raine had watched a hundred shows at this point, seen dozens of queens. She knew bending backwards as she mouthed the words would bring applause and that shaking her borrowed tits would get hoots and hollers. 

She hadn’t known how good it would feel. The high of applause and shouts. It wasn’t something she’d want to do often, even with the confident front, she could feel herself shying away from the eyes on her. It was too much, the way getting fucked a third time in a night was too much, but also felt unbelievably good.  

At one point, she let all the hair fall over her face and as the music played: ‘You gonna burn, burn, burn, she ran her hand up her leg from ankle to hip then moaned obscenely with the music ‘Ooh, Barracuda’ and threw back her head to excellent effect judging by the audience reaction. 

Right then, Raine knew exactly what she wanted and if she worked fast and right, she could probably even get it. It wasn’t hard to smile at the audience when she was finished or accept the tips. When she stepped into the wings once more, Leda was beaming at her, 

“That was just excellent, darling. I loved every second. You should be a regular.” 

“No way,” Raine told her without pausing to even think about it. “But...maybe an occasional guest spot if you’re in need.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Leda laughed. “We’ll meet you backstage after, help you get everything off.” 

“Mm,” she continued back. There was another number left to go, but Lucius would be done announcing for the night.  

Raine did not take off the dress or the makeup or the wig. She did wiggle out of her pantyhose and then dash out to the bathroom. Then she scrambled to find a pen and paper in Stede’s office, wrote the fastest note she could while keeping legible, before taking off again. 

Lucius was behind the bar, but the Kraken and Leda were still on stage flirting with the audience like they did sometimes after a good show, talking and laughing with the regulars. Perfect. 

Raine slid into a barstool. Not the one one in the dark corner. One in the middle. Lucius turned around from mixing a martini and spotted her. With a grin, he set down the martini (apparently in front of the wrong person, judging by the protests) and planted his elbows on the bar in front of her. 

“That was some show Miss Daze.” 

“Mrs,” she corrected in a throaty contralto. “I’m a married woman.” 

“Are you?” His eyes drifted over her, and yes, that was the familiar heat, not banked by her temporary disguise. Even better. “That’s too bad. Can I get you a drink?” 

“I have a very particular order,” she murmured, reached into her cleavage and pulled out the note, holding it between her two fingers like she had the cigarette. “Do you think you could manage this?” 

Lucius’ eyebrows flew into his hairline, but he took the note.  The air seemed to thicken as he read, her uncertainty cracking through the confidence the dress and the hair gave her. It was only as he folded the note up and made a point of putting it in his front pocket so he could adjust himself that Raine started to breathe again. 

Lucius leaned in, his breath against her lips. “Mrs. Daze, I would be fucking delighted. Green.” 

“Green?” She checked. 

“Very,” his eyes dropped to her lips, then dragged back up to her eyes. Without looking away he called out, “Swede? I’m taking my fifteen.” 

“All right!” 

“You go first, m’am,” Lucius stood up slowly. “We should go separately so we don’t alert your...husband?” 

“We wouldn’t want that,” she agreed. 

She got up and walked across the floor, making sure her hips swayed. Even without the padding, she felt like she still had them. The dress made her feel voluptuous. Sensual. The closet door was discreet. Lucius had pointed it out to her once fondly and now she slipped inside, the cool, astringent dark a welcoming balm after all the lights. A minute later, the door opened again, and her heart pounded in fear, but it was the right man. 

She could tell by his hands on her hips, then his mouth on hers. Why did it feel so different to be held this way? Lucius hadn’t changed, the way he touched her hadn’t either. But his surety did things to her just now. Made her feel even smaller than usual, but in the best kind of way. 

“The things I want to do to you, Mrs. Daze,” Lucius nosed aside her hair to whisper in her ear. “But I know time is of the essence.” 

“Yes,” she breathed out, inclining her neck back, encouraging him to nibble at it. “I’m desperate, you have to help me.” 

“Lucky for you, I know what to do for a desperate woman.” His hands slid down, curling on the edges of her dress and rucking it slowly up her thighs. “Your husband can’t satisfy you?” 

“He does,” she said, not able to throw Stede that far under the bus even if it was all pretend. “But he can’t give me what I really need.” 

“Tell me what you need,” Lucius growled in her ear. 

“I need someone to fuck me so hard that I cry,” she groaned, grinding against him. “I want to feel your cock for the next three days.” 

Lucius bit her neck and Raine moaned.  

Usually, Izzy was silent during their sex. Usually, Lucius set the pace, the tone, the everything really. They both liked that, Lucius having complete control and Izzy yielding without a fight, going deep under into a place of perfect submission. But Raine was different. Raine wanted to dictate things and she wanted to moan and cry out and make a mess. Raine wanted to be a brat. 

“Can you handle me?” Raine challenge. “Or are you just another young buck with a big fucking ego?” 

“I can handle you,” Lucius’ voice dropped an entire octave. “And my ego isn’t what you have to worry about being big.” 

He got his hands under her thighs and managed to lift her for just long enough to set her on top of a low bookcase that was cramped with cleaning supplies. Then he yanked so she was teetering just on the edge. 

“Prove it,” she fired back and Lucius’ eyes glittered in the dark.

She heard his zipper come down and the sound raced over her nerve endings. When he slid his hands up her thighs and under her dress it was like it was the first time he’d ever touched her. When he encountered no underwear, his breath caught. 

“You expecting someone?” Lucius asked her roughly, fingers digging into her ass. 

“I told you I didn’t have time to fuck around,” she goaded. “So I did your work for you.”

“I could’ve done that. Gotten you wet for me,” he bent her leg up, pressed a biting kiss to the inside of her knee. “Maybe next time.” 

“You assume they’ll be a next time.” 

A sting slap hit her thigh and she cried out. Another caught her ass and she arched into it. 

“Mouthy thing,” he growled. “You want more?” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. 

He did dare. He rained down three heavy blows that left her skin stung and warm. 

“You better shut up, Mrs. Daze or we’re going to get the wrong kind of attention.” 

“Make me,” she hitched her heels up his back. 

He didn’t say another word, just palmed her open and then his cock was at her hole. 

“Green?” Lucius asked. 

“Green,” she said quickly. 

Then he was pushing in. The prep she’d done had been a little slap dash, so the cry she let out was genuine and full of delicious agony. He slid into the hilt, inexorable and strong, holding her hips tight. When he was fully seated, they both panted for a moment, breath intermingling. The music outside pumped out loud enough that she could feel the beat in her shoulders where they were pressed against the wall.

No one would hear. 

Lucius rolled his hips once and she moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. She dug in her heels. 

“Give it to me,” she demanded. 

“Careful what you ask for.” His grip tightened. 

“I know what I want.” 

He pulled almost all the way back out and then slammed back into her and she threw back her head and yelled out. She reached out to grip his biceps, nails biting into his shirt. He did it again and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Again and they fell along with her last inhibition. Her moans were wanton, her demands bubbling out of her: harder, faster, more.... 

And Lucius delivered. His grip was iron as he pounded into her, sharp, staccato strokes broken up with brutally long ones, that ground into her. He grunted with effort, the sound counterpoint to her moans and the slap of their skin coming together. 

It was freeing to be loud, almost as much as to be silent. The thought was the last one she had before Lucius ramped up somehow, finding another gear, and any attempt to think was dashed to pieces. Her entire world was narrowed down to his hands on her hips, his cock thrusting into her with a series of wet sucking sounds. 

He came hard, burying himself in her and she clung to him through it, gasping as pulled out. 

“You didn’t come,” he said, carelessly as if he barely cared. 

“You didn’t make me come,” she hissed. “If you want to do this again, you’ll finish the job.”

He leaned in and bit her neck, worrying a bit of skin between his teeth until she cried out. “You want to come, you’ll take what I give you.” 

“Then give me something worth having,” she spat. 

He pulled out of her and then replaced his cock with three fingers. She gasped as his teeth sunk deeper into her neck. He pulled back just to lick once over the mark he’d made as he cruelly spread his fingers inside of her, opening her wet hold even wider. 

“Is that what you wanted?” He slid in a fourth finger and tears really did start to fall from her eyes. “You can’t stand not being filled up, can you? No wonder you need more than your husband. I could call in every dick in this place and it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you, would it?” 

“No,” she denied even as she pressed back against his fingers. “Just you. Right now. Just you.” 

“Damn right.” Lucius dropped to his knees, his fingers jarring inside her, but not withdrawing. If anything he was somehow getting them deeper. 

Then his mouth was on her cock and Raine sobbed in relief. He sucked her in, close wet heat. With every bob of his head, he fucked his fingers in and out of her. She didn’t know which way to rut, against the heady intrusion or into the warm, wet welcome of his mouth. In the end she didn’t have to choose because Lucius gave her both until she was spilling onto his mouth with a moan that ratched up an entire octave. 

After, they both sat in silence for a minute. Lucius carefully withdrew and Raine winced at the wet mess. But then there was something wet and cold pressed against her. 

“Just a wipe,” Lucius said softly. “Have this place pretty well stocked.” 

“Love a prepared man,” she exhaled shakily. She was cleaned up and then he was out of reach, presumably taking care of himself. “All right?” 

“Yeah, very alright. You okay?” 

“Very,” she assured him. “That was...I don’t know.” 

“It was new,” he agreed. “You don’t have to know right now. We can talk about it later. Maybe in the morning.” 

“Yeah.” In the morning when the dress, the wig and the makeup was long gone. That would be good. “Kiss me?” 

He did, even as he smoothed her dress back down her thighs and righted her wig a little. 

“Proud of you,” Lucius told her. “Getting up there, doing all that. And this. Asking for what you wanted. Pretty big stuff.” 

“Yeah,” she exhaled. “Yeah it was. Thanks.” 

“Can I still call you storm cloud when you’re like this?” 

“Why the fuck do you think I picked the name to begin with?” 

“You’re such a romantic,” Lucius said fondly and kissed her again. “Come on, let’s get you back to your wives before they come looking.” 

The interlude in the closet had felt like hours, but when they stepped back into the bar, no one had moved much. The Kraken was sitting on the edge of the stage, talking to someone and Leda was dancing with the Menace. No one had missed them. 

“Wow, okay,” Lucius laughed, looking at her. “Uh...let’s go to the dressing room and pretend I started talking your makeup off already.” 

“Why?” she frowned. 

“Because you’ve got mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick absolutely everywhere.” 

“Oh,” she scrutinized him. “You’ve got lipstick...everywhere too.” 

“Lucky for you, I know how to deal with that.” 

She snagged the Kraken’s chair and Lucius grabbed one of the communal boxes of makeup wipes. There was some other things too, cold cream and whatnot, but the end result was that when the Menace and Roach strolled back in, all they found was Raine scrubbing glue out her eyebrows. Lucius was already back behind the bar. 

“Great show,” the Menace said with a hint of warmth. 

“I sent the whole thing to Frenchie,  he’s going to be pissed that he missed it,” Roach slapped Raine on the shoulder. “Pretty good debut.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You like it?” The Menace asked. 

“It was all right. Kind of like skydiving. Good skill to have, fun once and a while, but I’m not looking to make it a regular thing.” 

“Fair,” Roach nodded. 

The Kraken and Leda came back in with Teal. The Kraken scowled at Raine in her chair, but then gently helped her get the wig and wig cap off. With those gone, it was just Izzy again, except in a dress. 

A dress that probably needed to get to a dry cleaners. He let Leda unzip him, but stepped back to remove it and drop it discreetly in the bag that Lucius used for Leda and the Kraken’s laundry. He’d take care of it. It wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t want to broadcast it to the rest of them. Instead, he got back in his street clothes and wound up helping Leda de-drag. 

“I don’t feel like waiting until we get home,” she explained mildly, but her eyes dropped to his neck where there was probably a hell of a hickey forming. “I’m guessing you’re...tired.” 

“No,” he countered. “Being up there...dunno. I get why you two stay up so late sometimes. Feel really awake. Like I had a pot of coffee injected into my veins.”

“Is that so,” and Leda had left the building. That was Stede eyeing Izzy up with hunger. 

They did not linger at the bar that night. Eddy had picked up the scent in the air or maybe just also spotted the hickey. They bracketed him all the way home, talking idly about his debut, about a dozen other things, but Stede and Eddy’s hands were all over him. Touching, testing. Interested. 

He had absolutely no complaints about the night that followed. Even though he really couldn’t get it up again, he could definitely still enjoyed getting slowly fucked by Stede even (or because of) as sore as he was,  and sucking Eddy off with all the adoration she deserved. 

If he slept unusually late the next morning, he figured that was his right. He still woke up with Eddy smeared over him and Stede’s heartbeat steady under his hand. His body ached in the best way. Later, he’d call Lucius and they’d talk about the new things they’d discovered. For now though, he lay awake between his spouses and idly thought over music. 

Raine could probably kill “Take it Off” by the Donnas.

[pornbotnot]

Voice Command

Inumaki's got the best power for general fuckery ever. In light of that, here's a list of porn prompts where he uses his cursed technique to order his partner to...

“Get Wet.”

“Soak.”

“Erection.”

“Orgasm.”

“Come.”

“Pleasure.”

“Aroused.”

“Wet dreams.”

“Fuck him/her.”

“Fuck yourself.”

“Fuck me.”

"Ride me."

“Suck his/my cock.”

“Touch yourself.”

“Pleasure yourself.”

“Finger yourself.”

“You can only orgasm outside.”

“You can only orgasm in public.”

“You can only orgasm when being watched.”

“You can only orgasm at ‘location’.”

“You can only orgasm in front of a mirror.”

“Orgasm when you enter/exit ‘location’.”

“Orgasm when you hear/read the word ‘   ‘.”

“You desperately need something in your ass/vagina right now.”

“You will come in public every hour if you don’t wear sexy lingerie under your uniform.”

“Wear a bra under your uniform everyday until you are caught.”

“You cannot pleasure yourself quietly.”

“You cannot control when you pleasure yourself.”

“You cannot control how or when you pleasure yourself.”

“Every hour you must pleasure yourself wherever you are.”

“At midday you will get on your knees, pull out your cock and masturbate until you come.”

“You will fuck any inanimate hole you see big enough for your cock.”

“You must be fucked every hour or you will piss yourself.”

“You will cry when aroused and won’t stop crying until you orgasm.”

“You can feel someone sucking your cock.”

“You can feel someone fucking your ass/vagina.”

“You can feel someone sucking your clit.”

“You can feel someone sucking your tit.”

“You will only climax with nipple stimulation.”

“You will not notice when you start to pleasure yourself unless you see yourself or are about to orgasm. If you notice before you’re about to orgasm you will stop pleasuring yourself.”

“Go outside and fuck yourself with a dildo.”

“Kneel in the courtyard and beg anyone who passes by to rail you until someone does.”

“You can only orgasm when fully naked.”

“You can only orgasm after fucking yourself for 1 hour.”

“Be desperately horny when you see ‘    ‘.”

“You cannot orgasm without something up your ass.”

“Orgasm when I look at you.”

“You cannot go to sleep without a vibrator vibrating in you.”

“When near another person you will feel the increasing need to touch yourself until you can no longer resist.”

“If you interact with anyone for more than 1 minute at a time you will start to pleasure yourself at any moment.”

“Orgasm at random and without warning for 24 hours.”

“You will masturbate every hour of everyday but edge yourself for a week.”

“You can’t move.”

“Asphyxiation causes arousal.”

“You may only climax when asphyxiating.”

“You can only climax with a cock in your mouth.”

“Bend over and beg the nearest person to you to fuck you.”

“Every three hours you will climb into the lap of the nearest person with a cock and fuck yourself.”

“Beg someone to bend you over their desk and fuck you.”

“You will film yourself masturbating with toys.”

“You can only come on camera.”

“Submerging yourself in water gives you exquisite pleasure.”

“Fuck another man.”

“You are only allowed to come wearing ‘   ‘.”

“You will get off from eating cake.”

“Anything touching your tits makes you wet/hard.”

“The longer you hold your pee the more aroused you will be.”

“Eat her/him out.”

“69.”

“You can only come whilst sucking my dick outside.”

“You can’t stop getting wet.”

“Cuff yourself to your bed.”

“Put a vibrator inside you on its lowest setting and go outside to a bench, blindfold yourself, cuff yourself to it and wait for someone to fuck you.”

“You can only come with a gag on.”

“In your next class, gag yourself and then fuck yourself on your biggest dildo.”

“You will read this porn and orgasm from it, you are not allowed to touch yourself.”

“Humiliation brings you pleasure.”

“Stick your dick in a hole in the wall and wait for somebody to suck it.”

“Tonight you will sleep walk into ‘    ‘ room and ride them.”

“Fuck me in every closet in the academy.”

“Without warning, bend me over and eat me out in a place where people might see us.”

“Fuck me on the train without anyone catching on.”

“Any time today you will find me and get me off through my clothes no matter who is there or what I’m doing.”

“Fuck me between the thighs.”

“Let ‘    ‘ fuck you between the thighs.”

“Masturbate in the dinning room, in the middle of the table with a blindfold on and ear plugs in.”

“Tie me up and peg me.”

Please add on to this list so we can make the ultimate voice command kink list ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[lastweeksshirttonight]

April is here and so is more looking back at the past ten seasons of Last Week Tonight. Wooo!

I'm going to aim to have Last Lee Tonight posted every week on Thursdays. Work is always a wrench in my plans but I'm pretty sure I can keep up that pace. They'll let me leave at some point right? hahaha help.

Now that the admin notes are out of the way, let's get cracking.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein John waited three episodes to dump music knowledge on us and honestly I'm impressed he waited that long) Season One, Episode Three

(original air date: 5/11/2014) Major topics covered: global warming; campaign finance and 2014 Senate political ads; Russia/Ukraine tensions

"History was made this week. ...Technically, history is made every week, that's kind of how history works."

We are still in that unique transitory period where John's team has figured out that longform segments are probably the way to go... but aren't really sure how to best utilize the rest of their show's time. The first two episodes were marked contrasts to each other structurally and were easier to compare. This third episode is all over the place, rushing through the first small segment on football, before covering a wide array of information and sources on Russian actions in around 8 minutes, which then gets us to our first main segment about ten minutes in. You can tell that the writers are still really trying to work out how to best structure their strange new show.

We start the episode talking about the first openly gay player in the NFL, Michael Sam, something I swear happened both earlier than and later than 2014. I fucking love that ESPN completely ignored the player in question's sexuality and just talked stats and genericisms. SPORTS!

We don't spend long there, as we move straight into discussing the present Ukranian/Russian tensions, first through the lens of Eurovision. I am truly shocked that John hasn't covered Eurovision every damn year, because it's the kind of overly theatrical camp nonsense he adores. We get a very Daily Show-esque bit where John grabs a paper way on the other side of his desk to quote Russia's entry, and it makes me sad that the audience barely registers it as a joke.

Also shit Conchita Wurst won Eurovision nearly ten years ago. I feel so fucking old.

Russia also recently annexed Crimea at the time, and John briefly covers the struggles Putin will have with the annexation. Putin is busy minting a two-pound commemorative coin over his 'victory', so we get a fake commercial for the "Worthless Desolate Landmass Commemorative Coin". This feels very much like a Bugle bit, complete with the satirical underpinning of acknowledging that Russia will actively make Crimeans' lives worse. And obviously Putin shirtless on a horse.

(I know that continually mentioning other things John has done that line up with these LWT bits probably seems a bit harsh or uncharitable, but LWT was clearly still trying to find a voice that wasn't cribbed from the two productions John was most associated with - to say nothing of the gigantic shadow The Colbert Report cast over every talking-head show in its wake. There's a lot of what I'd consider essential LWT that's been completely missing from these early episodes, from the common running gags of being a furry and shitting on his appearance, to a more unhinged level of social disruption and trolling, to even some of his linguistic choices - and that honestly makes sense. John has said multiple times that no one on the show had any idea what they were doing at this point, so why not pull from things that worked before?)

The first major story starts 10 minutes in, and regards campaign finance. The FEC has allowed bitcoin contributions to campaigns and jesus christ kill me now

Sorry. Campaign finance just innately pisses me off, and John gets me by basically saying "what else is left" while listing off all the campaign finance fuckery of the past few years at that time. I wish 2023 Me and 2023 John did not have to see what else was left.

John's joke about cribbing band names from the Kentucky Derby is gold. Tag yourself I'm California Chrome.

We get our first delightfully off impression of the series from John in this section - it's the rich evil Southern gentleman voice, in the form of Mitch McConnell threatening to kill people with a shovel over his love of coal. No amount of context will help me explain that better.

John also confirms that Mitch McConnell is not a homegrown Kentucky girl like his then-competitor, Alison Lundergan Grimes, by noting that "Politifact rates that true". I laughed so hard at that I had to pause. Please bring that gag back.

The Kentucky piece is overall worth watching, as it hits how campaign finance has influenced political advertising in ways directly detrimental to statewide and nationwide issues of import. The only part of this on YouTube is the capper, where John makes the most over-the-top and morally repugnant ads he can possibly think of. Trigger warning for gory violence including disembowelment, implied animal cruelty, and old man and middle-aged nudity. (Required note from this blog: it is not John Oliver nude. Fucking weirdoes, the lot of you [/j]) Link is here bc the video is, quite reasonably, age-restricted.

We now move to our very first "How Is This Still A Thing?", with the subject "Dressing Up as Other Races". Honestly no notes here, this segment came out the gate strong and basically in the same format it retains in the current day. (Seriously stop using other cultures as a costume.)

Finally, with five minutes left, we get to the segment Wikipedia thinks is the main one, on climate change. (The pacing of LWT Season One is a rollercoaster.) Global warming in 2014 threatens everything, yet 1 in 4 Americans think it doesn't exist. I would like to travel through time to scream at them and John thinks even talking about that kind of stat is fucking pointless. Bill Nye is brought on to have a statistically representative debate on the topic, which involves a random fuckload of people being on stage at once. I love the chaos but this is a very slim bit.

This was the weirdest episode to watch so far, I think. They took the lessons of the last episode and did attempt to apply them, but we aren't quite at the sweet spot of LWT pacing and structure yet. We'll get there eventually, I'm sure.

Random notes:

Lee obviously focuses on important things corner: After the absolute banger that was "red check pattern" last week, we return to neutral blue shirt and bubble-patterned navy tie. The unique tie elevates this to a 8/10 look, but one thing I cannot wait to get to is his "bold outfit choice" era of shit like silver suit and blue check shirt.

John describing bitcoin as something only "heroin dealers and assassins" use makes me yearn for the innocent time of 2014, when people were not trying to sell me every goddamn coin and ape doodle and metaverse on earth.

The YouTube team for this episode truly had no idea what to clip for this one. Their main segment doesn't have an authorized clip, and I don't know why they decided to take a 5 minute segment and make two clips out of it, an abbreviated version and a full version.

Speaking of weird shit on the LWT YouTube, have this 45 second bit of HBO selling the fuck out of their new show and John being obviously uncomfortable with it. However, in this clip he is, and I say this with a minimal amount of bias, hot as fuck. ("I'm no one's idea of a photogenic human being" SHUT UP MATE MY GOD)

I found this ad on their YouTube as well, which was very fun. Back when we expected some actual timely news discussion on LWT!

[dearorpheus]

@blackhyena tagged me a little (long) while ago (sorry!) to post 10 tracks that put me in a good mood—i’m going to choose songs that put a smile on my face bc i associate them with good memories♡ thanku my love!

- the way i walk, the cramps - white wedding, billy idol - graveyard’s full, the growlers - raised by wolves, u2 - beyond the sea (la mer), django reinhardt - lord knows best, dirty beaches - no one lives forever, oingo boingo - black fur, elder island - lady - hear me tonight, modjo - me & mr jones, amy winehouse (what kind of fuckery is this?~) 

tagging @night-leaves @salomeapologist @chateauofmymind @angelbots @brutalistarchitecture2 @iberiangirl @ursulakleguin @virgo-moons @betelgeusing @ruegracieuse @amadryades @engineofhell @thedearidiot @doomsayings 

[theboarsbride]

Incorrect Quotes Meme tag

Thanks sm for the tag @blind-the-winds!!💛

Rules are to use this generator, but with your characters from whatever WIP!

I will be doing this with characters from “Those Red Nights” and “The Monster and the Butterfly”!

Those Red Nights🌕🐺

Lowell: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

-

Lowell: I mean, sure, I have my bad days, but then I remember what a cute smile I have.

-

Selene, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

-

Apollo: Keep it running. *Tosses keys over shoulder into empty parking lot.*

-

Apollo: What’s it like being tall? Apollo: Is it nice? Apollo: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Lowell: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. Selene: It was one time!

-

Apollo, smugly, after security arrives to escort Selene and Lowell out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out? Selene, in defeat: Let’s go. Lowell: Wait. Selene: What? Lowell: I’d kinda like to be carried out...

-

Lowell, texting Selene: Roses are red, Tony Hawk is a skater… Selene′s phone, auto-replying: I’m driving right now–I’ll get back to you later. *Later* Selene, texting back: Fuck you.

-

Apollo: I’m so excited! Selene: We’re gonna have the best costumes, get the most candy... Apollo: And have the biggest stomach aches ever! Selene: Yeah!

---

The Monster and the Butterfly🥀🦋

Sophie: Do you know the ABCs of first aid? Madame de Papillon: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.

-

Madame de Papillon: You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol. You treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol.

-

Sophie: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I’m somehow always feeling both simultaneously.

-

Sophie: Relationships should be 50/50. Edgar cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty.

-

Edgar, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Sophie: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

-

Edgar: But what about The Ghost? They were my SOULMATE! Sophie: You said that about a ball of yarn once!

-

Edgar: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Sophie: But are you shuffling? Edgar: Everyday. Claude: What language are you two speaking??

-

Sophie, texting group chat: What flavour of ice cream do you guys want? I’m at the store so be quick! Edgar: Moose Tracks is good! Claude: What the fuck is that!? Edgar: *Gasp* How dare you insult moo- Claude: No. No no not that. What the hell. Why do you spell flavor like flavour. It’s like you have flavor but then this guy shows up and is like “Oui Oui Would you like chocolate flaVOUR or vanilla flaVOUR. Sophie and Edgar: what? Claude: I don’t get it why add the EXTRA u when it’s PERFECTLY FINE AS IT IS!? Sophie: You done now? Claude: Yeah ok. Sophie and Edgar: ... Claude: ...Can I have the Mint Chocolate chip flavour?

---

This was a fuckton of fun to do!!! XD

Tagging @jasperygrace @writing-is-a-martial-art @rosesnwater @charismat1c-megafauna @monsterbride99 @aeipathys @ponponsugar, and whoever would like to join in!!

[sweetsweetjellybean]

In the cold November rain Part 5

Eddie Munson/FemReader Steve Harrington/FemReader

Can you have two great loves in a lifetime? 

You've had the ideal childhood in Hawkins with your best friend & protector Steve Harrington. When it's ripped away, can you pick up the pieces? Eddie Munson may be able to help. 

A story about the pain of growing up, unrequited love, and loss. 

TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end.*Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any.

Sincerest & Eternal Thanks To @loveshotzz A magnificent writer & phenomenal human who sparked my Eddie love. I never would have posted this without her.

Inspired by @loveshotzz & notes by @eddieandbird

Part 5/12? Masterlist

A week has passed, and your new lunch seat has become old news. You and Eddie have yet to acknowledge each other, but he has moved from his usual spot at the head of the table to one on the outskirts of his group, leaving just two empty seats between you. His eyes have been on you more than usual today, and you can't help the smile that creeps over your face.

"You need something?" You asked playfully.

His lips curl into a cocky smirk. "I'm just basking in your glorious presence, Princess. It's not every day us ordinary townsfolk get so close to royalty."

His response has you rolling your eyes. He slides down until he's in the chair beside you. "There's going to be a fire out in the woods tonight. Some warm beer and diablo's clove. All kinds of wicked debauchery. You should come. It'll take a little of the shine off you."

"I don't know if that's really my scene." You say, stuffing your trash into your lunch sack.

"You don't have a scene. You have a pity party for one." He waves his hand up and down in front of you. "You're a teenager; these are the best years of your life. Live a little. There's going to be all kinds of people there. You can make some friends."

He follows your eyes as you look over at Steve's lunch table. "Don't worry," he says in a low voice. "The royals don't mix with us commoners. So, what do you say?"

"I say...fuck 'em. Tell me where to meet you."

***

The party is in full swing when you walk through the trees into the clearing at skull rock. There are a lot of people here from several different social circles. Some faces are familiar, and some aren't. This was the first time you walked into a party alone, without Steve. You miss the security of his presence. His confident demeanor showed that he belonged anywhere he chose to go. You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans. The nights were much cooler, so you opted for a button-up flannel over a thermal tee. Not feeling the need to impress anyone, you wore your hair down. The lack of humidity left your usually frizzy locks falling around your shoulders in soft waves. 

"Hi." Lips close to your ear startle you, and you jump, your heart lurching into your chest. Eddie is standing beside you, his smile unmistakably warm, his eyes lit up by the fire burning by the rock. 

"You scared the shit out of me." The curse word comes out before you realize what you're saying, and you cover your mouth, embarrassed. 

"Swearing twice in one day, Princess." He raises his eyebrows at you and throws his arm around your shoulders. "My plan to corrupt you is working." He raises his arm into the air and makes a fist. "Now that stage one is complete. Time for stage two." He leads you over to a cooler and presses a can of beer in your hand. He walks you around, introducing you to everyone. They are all friendly and quickly include you in the conversation, which ranges from music, and books to film and local politics. It's a nice change from sports and gossip. Eddie left you to flutter from group to group but returned to give you another beer or briefly join the conversation. He would lean into the circle placing his hand on the small of your back, just the way you used to wish Steve would do. You hated thinking of him, that sick ache creeping into your stomach. You chugged your beer, hoping to chase it away. The sky began to lighten, and the fire burned out when you decided it was time to go home. Eddie walks you to your car.

"You're such a gentleman," You say, leaning against your Beetle keys in hand.

"Well, don't go telling anyone and ruin my reputation." He shoves his hands in his front pockets. "Did you have fun?" He studies your face in the intense way he always does. 

"I had so much fun," you tell him, beaming. His smile is dazzling. He is so beautiful when he smiles, you wonder why you never noticed before. You can't remember who leaned forward first, but it ended with his hand on your cheek and his soft lips pressed gently against yours. He pulls back to look at you again. When he sees you're still smiling, he leans in for another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours. He tastes like cigarettes and alcohol but still sweet. Years later, kissing someone after a drink or a smoke always makes you think of him. 

"God, you feel so good," you sigh into the kiss. He breaks away and rests his forehead against yours. 

"Now, I know you can't drive. That's got to be the beer talking."

"I haven't had a drink for hours. It's you. You're making me feel good." 

His eyes widened with your admission. He hesitates like he's making a decision, and his mouth is back on you. Your back pressed against the car, his hands in your hair, kissing, kissing, kissing. You moan, and he presses his hips against you. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh, and knowing it's because of you makes you absolutely dizzy. He stops, breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes blown out with lust.

"We're friends, right?" You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Good," He says nervously. "Tomorrow, when you wake up and regret letting me kiss you, just remember that, okay?”

This boy who builds you up like no one ever has is convinced he's not worth it. You want to tell him it's not true. That he's sweet and special and deserves so much more being someone's second choice. But you don't because you're a coward, afraid to lose how he makes you feel. So pull him in for another kiss. This one is soft and tender. "Don't be stupid." You mumble against his lips. "I'll see you at school."

The next time you touch yourself, it's your first time not thinking about Steve. 

>>>>>>>>

Part 6

>>>>>>>

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya

I'll tag ya if you want. 👑