#why does this seem so very plausible

[ingravinoveritas]

Stunningly gorgeous artwork of Michael and David at Pub in the Park earlier this year. (Source)

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[sunderwight]

PIDW but it's a game.

You play as Luo Binghe, the lowliest disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's Qing Jing Peak. The first part of the game proceeds more or less like a semi-normal fantasy dating sim -- Luo Binghe is bullied and downtrodden, but can seek help and opportunities to build relationships with various female characters, like Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan. The game's interface implies a truly staggering number of potential romance candidates to unlock, however, so it makes sense that the first part in your disciple years doesn't get you very far in any of the routes.

But then for the second part, things start to shift. You get an option that seems to amount to asking whether you want to make things better for Luo Binghe or not. When you click the obvious choice, that you do, your previously cold and ruthless shizun seems to go through an inexplicable change of heart. You get a weird kind of fanservice-y scene featuring him during the Skinner Demon Mission. Then he features extremely heavily in the Demon Invasion Mission, only to turn up as your companion in the Dream Demon Mission.

After that, it seems like you've gotten onto his route, somehow? Why does the scummy male teacher even have a route in a game like this, though? You try to check for player guides but you can't seem to find any. You try reloading older saves and making other selections, but no matter what you choose, you end up finishing the Dream Demon Mission by moving into Shen Qingqiu's house, and the routes for Liu Mingyan and Ning Yingying and the briefly-encountered Sha Hualing are all greyed out.

But maybe that just means they're inaccessible for advancement for now, or something. And a lot of games have plot points that are on rails, and you can see where Luo Binghe actually getting a place to live would be one of those things. The format of the game changes as well, going from a relatively loose sequence of scenes and interactions to a daily management style, where you have tasks to complete (make shizun breakfast, go to morning lessons, cultivate, do chores, etc) and only a set number of hours in which to complete them. You have affection points, but any time you try to spend them on anyone other than Shen Qingqiu you get an error message. There are dialogue options for flirting with other characters, but they're always greyed out and impossible to select.

Still, you can unlock scenes. A lot of them are just long slow shots of Shen Qingqiu doing things, like reading, or lecturing, or eating. You get missions, and sometimes you meet female characters who seem to unlock new possible romance paths, even though they're still constantly greyed out. Maybe this part of the game's just especially on rails? Waiting for the actual harem-building segment? You kind of like a lot of aspects of it anyway, though. Luo Binghe is an especially compelling character, not at all like the usual sort of non-entity placeholder main guys in games like this. He definitely has personality.

But then you get to the third part. The Abyss. Shen Qingqiu pushes Luo Binghe in, and suddenly you're wondering if you've somehow reached a bad end. You were saving up some of those affection points for later, maybe you should have spent them all on him? Was there something you did wrong to make this happen? You're not even sure why he's thrown poor Binghe away, he was cold and cryptic about it, and now you're wondering if all the time you spent distracted by other things was time you should have spent farming a better relationship with him. You can't help but wonder where you went astray, because Luo Binghe will not stop wondering about it, and wondering about it in ways that make you feel oddly like he is accusing you, the player, of making the wrong choices... but in a way that could still plausibly be aimed at himself, as a character. You feel bad. You kind of want to restart, but you also can't bring yourself to abandon Luo Binghe. You have to see this through, to help him make it to the other side.

Regardless, the Endless Abyss seems like it must be an inevitable plot development. A lot of the game shifts to account for it. There's even an option to essentially select this "thought" from Luo Binghe's internal diatribe, that this is inevitable, and it seems to turn off the litany of recriminations for a while, although sometimes it also results in Luo Binghe... glaring at the screen?

At you?

Anyway the daily management system goes out of the window, and instead there's an energy bar now. Encounters with monsters or the occasional demon woman will lower the energy bar, how much depends on what you choose and how the encounters proceed. Sometimes there are romantic/sexy responses for interacting with the demon women you meet, and they aren't greyed out, but if you try and select them the cursor will jump to another option. You think there might be something wrong with your mouse? Sometimes you get Luo Binghe glaring at the screen scenes afterwards. When Binghe's energy bar hits zero, you're offered two choices -- "sleep" or "think of shizun". Sometimes even if you pick "sleep" the cursor will still jump to "think of shizun", and you'll be treated to another one of those slow lingering scenes of Shen Qingqiu. Except they are becoming increasingly strange, obviously warped by the exhaustion and trauma of the situation, so that aspects are eerie or even disturbing. For example, sometimes Shen Qingqiu seems to be missing limbs, or eyes. Sometimes there's blood on his hands. Sometimes the food he's eating is rotted, or the bamboo house background looks like the Qing Jing Peak wood shed. That kind of thing. You don't mind the idea of harm coming to the man. He deserves it, really, for pushing Luo Binghe into the Abyss. But the few times you try and select options along those lines, the UI glitches again.

Also the "think of shizun" option only restores a quarter of the energy bar, whereas resting restores all of it. But if you try to go for too long without doing it, it will lock you into choosing it successively for a long time.

In addition to the energy bar, there's a calendar. It's not all that sophisticated or even consistent, and it's clearly meant to reflect the fact that Luo Binghe has troubles accurately judging the passage of time in the Abyss. However, the longer you spend in the Abyss, the more violent and unhinged things start to become, and the more the UI starts glitching to reveal disturbing messages, and the more often Luo Binghe "glaring" scenes happen. So you decide to do your best to get Binghe out of here as quickly as possible. This part of the game must be broken, but hopefully if you can make to the next segment, it will work properly again.

Eventually you get to the Xin Mo Mission, which is the last part of the Abyss section, and Luo Binghe escapes.

But the weirdness continues. Worsens, even. You still get missions to like, take over the demon realms and infiltrate Huan Hua Palace, all cool stuff, and you still meet girls who seem to unlock possibly romance paths. But most of the time everything is greyed out. There will be 5 dialogue options but maybe only 1 or 2 of them will be selectable. Parts of the menu are inaccessible. You don't have an energy bar anymore, you have a Xin Mo corruption bar, and it just keeps steadily rising. Sometimes you're presented the option of propositioning a character to "mitigate corruption", but if you try and click it the game glitches or the cursor freaks out and it fails. Sometimes the game crashes outright, and when you reload your last save, it starts with Luo Binghe glaring at you through the screen. You still get the "rest" and "think of shizun" options at times, but neither one helps the corruption bar.

Then. Jinlan City. You reunite with Shen Qingqiu. There seem to be a lot of options for acting vengefully towards him, but they're all greyed out, except for a few which let you chase him down or manhandle him a bit. The whole segment is frustrating, full of weird fanservice-y moments but also mired in how little Shen Qingqiu will say, how often he insists on evading or running away, and how Luo Binghe doesn't seem to have the right prompts to actually get him to explain himself. At times it seems like the "think of shizun" mechanic is bleeding over into the real interactions with the character, so that you can't tell what's really going on vs what are the manifestation of Luo Binghe's trauma or even hallucinations. The Xin Mo bar has maxed out. You have to catch Shen Qinqiu. Catch Shen Qingqiu. Catch Shen Qingqiu--

Then suddenly the bar is at 0, and you're watching Shen Qingqiu's lifeless body fall towards the ground, his energy expended in the effort to push back the corruption. Like, all of his energy.

You catch Shen Qingqiu. Or at least, you stop his corpse from hitting the dirt.

Now the game art is crisp and clean again. All the weird UI artifacts and blocked-off menus are either gone altogether or else working properly. The sound, which had been very gradually deteriorating with low-pitched ringing and muffled portions, is normal. You can hear characters gasping and distantly shouting, and birds chirping somewhere, the ragged cadence of Luo Binghe's breaths, while the camera focuses on Shen Qingqiu's body.

Huh, you think. That's a sort of dramatic resolution to that plot arc, and it raised more questions about Shen Qingqiu than it answered, really. But at least it's over with now? Does this mean Luo Binghe can finally start to recover, or advance other plots?

Then everything blacks out. You get booted to the main menu, or something that looks like it, except the only option you can select now is the New Game+ one.

When you click it, it seems like you've started the whole game over again. Except that there is a Xin Mo corruption bar, greyed out, already waiting for in a corner of the screen. And instead of starting out with a view of Qing Jing Peak, you start out with the young Luo Binghe looking directly towards you. Like he's staring through the screen. It's the basic starting point character, except he already has his demon mark on his forehead, and his expression is way more cold and calculating than anything the junior protagonist would have worn.

"Don't get in my way," he warns.

Then the game proceeds like a visual novel with extremely limited choices. The old selections and the menu for various romance routes don't even appear, the menus have all changed again, this time oriented entirely around hiding Luo Binghe's demonic cultivation (while building it) and managing daily choices and Shen Qingqiu's relationship status. A romance game with only one romance route, and it's the treacherous crusty old teacher? Wtf? But otherwise it seems almost normal, except for the special faint-lettered red options that sometimes appear in weird places on the screen, suggesting things like preventing the Skinner demon from catching you unawares, or saving Shen Qingqiu from Without a Cure poisoning, or keeping out of the Endless Abyss.

Those options seem like they should create different outcomes, and you click them whenever they show up, but they consistently fail. As if there's some other force in the game pushing things back onto the rails no matter what you do...

Anyway, eventually you get through the main plot again, and Shen Qingqiu dies once more. This time the game keeps going from that point, however, with quests to try and find ways to resurrect him. You're starting to wonder why you're still playing -- after all, you signed up for a harem game, not this tragic gay love story? You're not even gay! It's just that Luo Binghe is such a compelling character. You decide it's time to take a break, though, so you get up, do some stretches, go to the bathroom, etc.

It feels like someone's watching you.

You've definitely been playing that game for too long. Sometimes you think you catch sight of Luo Binghe's face out of the corner of your eye, in the bathroom mirror or on the black surface of your phone's screen, just before you turn it on. But when you look twice or turn your phone off again, nothing's there. You call your little sister, to apologize for dropping off the face of the earth for a bit, and you joke about getting too invested in this weird game that might be broken? She hasn't heard of it, but she sounds a little worried as she suggests maybe coming over and taking you out to lunch, or something.

You decline -- she's got a lot on her plate, and she mentioned already having plans earlier -- but then you promise to get some fresh air anyway. But when you go to head out, somehow you find yourself turning away at the last minute. You try again, and yet it's like you just keep getting distracted before you can open the door. After a few tries you give up, swallowing down your growing unease. You take off your shoes and coat. When it comes to it, you really do want to find out what happens to Luo Binghe next.

The game is running.

You don't remember turning it back on...?

The screen is focused on the familiar image of Shen Qingqiu's preserved corpse. You can see Luo Binghe's hand in the frame as well, transferring qi in yet another familiar sequence, the one that seems to run at the end of every in-game day. There's some text.

Is it you? the red letters ask, scrawling and flickering, as if someone is attempting to write directly onto the screen. Are you the one behind all this? Thwarting me at every turn?

Yes/No options appear in the game's usual font and position. You try to click "no", even though you're unsure and feel like you must have missed a scene somehow. But the interface warps and when you hit "no" it changes to Stay Silent.

I can't figure out. Are you here to help me, or get in my way?

Help/Harm. You click "help" but again it changes to "stay silent" afterwards.

What do you want from me?

This time there's no option to select at first. Then, as if being shoved onto the screen by some alternative function, a text box opens up. Like the kind that some games have for implementing cheats or selecting character names. This particular game has never shown such a function before, Luo Binghe's name was locked in and you don't even know if it has cheats. The cursor blinks, and somehow it feels as if you have only one chance, and if you don't take it now, it will be gone forever.

You type in "help" and barely manage to hit enter before the interface blinks out. No list of prompts or possible options appear.

Shizun? the red text scrawls, shakily.

Then the whole game crashes.

You wait, but it doesn't start up again. You try to run it again, but you can't find it on your system, somehow. Really weird. Even if it had crashed, it shouldn't have gotten deleted? But you still can't find it. You start to feel genuinely alarmed. Not only can you not find the game on your system, but when you try and search for it absolutely nothing comes up. You try and go to the online shop page for it, but you can't remember where you actually got it from in the first place, now that you're thinking about it.

What bullshit is this?

What, was the game actually some kind of virus? It couldn't have been. Also who would make a virus like that? You get up and pace, trying to make sense of it.

It's gotta be some kind of mistake. Maybe you've just missed too much sleep, you're not thinking right. You'll take a break and when you come back you'll realize that you were just looking in all the wrong places, somehow.

You head over to the fridge to grab something to eat.

You can't remember the last time you went shopping, but the food in there is probably still fine. Right?

[katakaluptastrophy]

Periodically, I remember how absolutely fucked up the necromancers in TLT are meant to look. Like, necromancy does an absolute number on people physically.

Harrow is "rather small and feeble".

Necromantic Ianthe is "the starved shadow" of her non-necromantic twin.

Our first description of Palamedes is "a rangy, underfed young man" who is "gaunt".

Silas is "knife-faced...He had a necromancer build."

Ianthe parodies make-over scenes in House novels with "if the hero’s a necromancer it’ll be described like, ‘His frailty made his unearthly handsomeness all the more ephemeral'"

Jod acknowledges to Wake that even small children with aptitude would look odd to non-House eyes: "“I have access to any number of cute pictures of necromantic toddlers with their first bone. They don’t make for fat-cheeked roly-poly babies, but they’ve got a certain something."

In As Yet Unsent, Judith brags about her previous physical fitness: "I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves." Which is about double the time you might expect for a physically fit woman her age.

In non-necromancer-friendly New Rho, Harrow's body is mistaken for a child's and has to be explained as a result of starvation and trauma to seem plausible: "Pyrrha explained without missing a beat that what with everything Nona had gone through she had been ill and still didn’t eat very much, which was why she was so knobbly and undergrown. The nice lady said that yes, many of the children had problems like that, but it was still hard to imagine Nona was anywhere over fourteen, wasn’t it?"

Tamsyn Muir's descriptions of the Canaan House gang on Tumblr back this up: "Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is", Palamedes is "seriously underfed" and "bony", Harrow is "scrawny".

And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head - I'm sure there's more.

Anyway, necromancers aren't slender in a conventionally attractive way, they're gaunt in a concerning way...and probably the only reason no one instantly clocked that Coronabeth wasn't a necromancer was because they all just thought it was par for the course that a Third House princess would have had a lot of plastic surgery flesh magic.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[myspacebrat]

dial-a-thrill (part 2)

Phone sex operator!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you finally meet up with Eddie, the phone sex operator you’ve been spending your nights talking to.

⚠️warnings: smut 18+ mdni, very light angst, Eddie is in love love, pierced!eddie, reader is insecure due to her last relationship, a few uses of y/n but mostly nicknames (baby, sweet girl, angel etc.), reader gets high for the first time, dom/sub dynamics, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, first penetrative orgasm, the smallest daddy kink (mentioned once), creampie.

notes: thank you to my babes @lofaewrites @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @dearest-readers @inkluvs & @take-everything-you-can for all your help with beta reading <3

wc: 14.2k

“Would you like to maybe meet up sometime?”

Those eight words took residence in your brain the whole week, hardly being able to focus at work with the thought of finally meeting Eddie. Your nerves were jangled to say the least and you were nervous he wouldn’t like you or feel the same connection in person, or what if you didn’t like him? No that didn’t seem like the plausible outcome, you knew you’d like him. So your nerves continued to eat at you.

You had talked to him almost every night, after he gave you his personal home phone number. But even he with his calming voice and sweet words couldn’t mellow your mind

Finally when Saturday night rolled around, you were a mess of butterflies and sweaty palms. Your one saving grace was your best friend Lauren insisting she help you get ready, you hadn’t gone on a date in more than six months, said date being with your boyfriend at the time, so this was a completely new set of feelings. This almost felt like a blind date, which had never been your forte. Your mom tried to set you up on loads of them with the sons of men she worked with, you’d always tell her it felt too impersonal to not know a guy beforehand.

But Eddie was the exception, although in a way you did somewhat know him, the thought still did nothing to ease the fluttering in your abdomen.

“Alright” Lauren says with a clap of her perfectly manicured hands. “You go get in the shower, make sure you shave! And I’ll pick out your outfit.” She commands as she waves you off.

Lauren had been your best friend since grade school, and although she is now in a fully committed relationship, she had her fair share of dates before she met Paul. You could trust that she’d have you looking close to perfection when she was done.

While in the shower you exfoliate, wash and shave. Once your hair and body had been completely rinsed of your strawberries and cream body wash and rose petal shampoo and conditioner, you step out and cloth your body with your pink robe.

You make your way back into your room after wrapping your hair in a towel—

Eyes catching on the very revealing outfit that was layered out across the foot of your full size bed.

You scrunch your face up in distaste for the garments, Lauren notices and rolls her eyes with a sigh—

“you’re going to a bar y/n, not church okay? This is a perfectly acceptable look for the occasion.” You couldn’t disagree with her there.

“I know Laur, I just- I don’t know if I can pull that look off.” You say as you cross your arms over your chest.

“What are you talking about? Those legs and boobs were meant to be shown off.” She says as if it was common knowledge.

“Plus, these are all your clothes, if you didn't think you could pull them off then why do you have them?” She asks with a shrug of her shoulders as she sits down in the green tufted vintage chair opposite your bed.

“I bought them because I was working up the guts to eventually wear them someday.” You say in an almost defensive tone

“And what better time than now? C'mon, you’re meeting some guy you met on a phone sex hotline, if that doesn’t call for the sexy revealing outfit in the back of your closet you’ve been working up the guts to wear, then I don’t know what does.” She huffs out a laugh.

“Ya’ know what, you’re right!” You say with confidence.

“Damn right I am.” Lauren says back, making you both fall into a fit of laughter,

“thanks babe, I can always count on you to make me feel better.” You say with complete admiration for your best friend.

“Yeah, you owe me lunch. Now, try this shit on.” Lauren says with no real malice behind her words.

You left your apartment in the city at about 6:05pm making it into hawkins by 6:30pm.

You decide to roll down your windows as soon as you pass the ‘welcome to Hawkins’ sign, it had been a beautiful spring day and as the sun was setting the sky illuminated a pinky orange hue. The town smelled like hints of cow manure and fresh grass clippings. You could tell this was one of those small towns where everyone knew you and your business, that was something you were grateful you never had to worry about in the city.

You made it to Rips bar on the east side of Hawkins with five minutes to spare before Eddie and his band were to be on stage, the plan was for you to watch him play as he does every Saturday, and after you’d maybe play a couple rounds of pool before getting a bite to eat.

You didn’t mind the idea, and after learning that Eddie was in a band you were pretty excited to see him in his element, it also gave you some time to get a couple drinks into you before the initial meeting.

Before you turn off the ignition, you flip down the visor to inspect your makeup in the mirror, winged eyeliner still intact and red lipstick not yet smudged. You play with your voluminous curls, as you try to perfect the hair framing your face.

Stepping out of your red Acura legend, your platform Mary janes crunch on the rocky gravel of the parking lot while making your way into the bar.

You run your fingers down your black pleated skirt to smooth out any wrinkles that may have formed during your drive, adjust your white strapless corset top, almost making a split decision to grab the knitted cardigan in your back seat to hide the amount of cleavage you were presenting, but Lauren’s voice rings out in your head, the way she screeched “you’re a hot ass bitch!” At you, as you admired yourself in the mirror before leaving.

The recent memory making you chuckle as you grab the big golden handle attached to an even bigger red door. Swinging it open you’re hit with the different scents of cigarettes and leather.

you pull the white thigh high socks you almost protested against wearing, higher up your plush thighs before making your way inside.

The bar sits at the back, pool tables to the left surrounded by booths. The jukebox on the far left wall catches your eye, before you see a figure walk out onto the stage that sits front and center.

His long wavy brown hair flows beautifully past his shoulders, his guitar hangs off the side of his body, black ripped jeans, bullet belt, and a sepultura band tee that you only notice because your older brother is also a fan. His leather jacket hugs his biceps perfectly and his feet are adorned with high top Adidas.

You make your way over to the bar and take a seat on the round black leather chair, spinning around to continue ogling the man you hope is your date.

His whole being made the room feel almost unbearably hot, your mouth began to water as you fought against the need to clench your thighs.

The rest of the band struts on stage, settling in front of their respective instruments.

Eddie had told you all the members names and what they played:

Jeff on rhythm guitar

Grant on bass

And Gareth on drums

So that only leaves the man standing in front of the mic with his guitar now pulled closer to his chest to be Eddie.

He was fucking hot.

As you came to this revelation you had noticed a group of girls gather at the front of the stage, all of them eye fucking each member of the band.

It makes your stomach feel queasy, so you turn in your seat and order a Jack and coke from the very nice bartender, as an aide to calm your nerves and as a distraction, for now.

As the band starts playing, you recognize the song almost immediately—

Megalomania by Black Sabbath.

Eddie begins to sing into his microphone while simultaneously strumming his guitar.

I hide myself inside the shadows of shame

The silent symphonies were playing their game

My body echoed to the dreams of my soul

It started something that I could not control

Where can I run to now, the joke is on me

No sympathizing God, it’s insanity, yeah..

You sway in your seat to the music, singing along as you sip from your drink. Your eyes catch on the silver that decorate his fingers, your thoughts going to some really filthy places.

Eddie keeps his eyes closed for majority of the song, his playing must be full on muscle memory by now. Once he finally opens them, they scan the whole bar, finally falling on you.

They don’t leave yours, as the song crescendos to an end. You swallow harshly as all of his attention now seems to be on you, he looks over your frame with a shy smile before he sends you a wink.

The whole display makes your heart swoon. You could be any woman in this bar but his eyes chose yours.

That has to count for something.

Eddie’s eyes catch yours a few more times, and as you’re on your second drink you’ve gained a newfound confidence.

You wave to him with a wiggle of your fingers as you take the straw between your plump red lips, seductively taking a sip while never breaking eye contact.

Once the band's set is finished a younger man walks over to the jukebox and before you know it, shot in the dark by Ozzy is being played loudly throughout the bar.

Eddie and his band mates begin packing their equipment up, but as Eddie is putting his guitar away in its case, one of the girls from the front row walks up to him, she’s all big smiles and flirty touches.

He begins talking with her, you can hear her loud laughs even over the music. It makes your eyes roll and leaves a permanent scowl on your face.

The display makes your stomach turn. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe, Eddie didn’t really feel the way he said he did. Maybe, you should just get up and go home.

But before you know it the girl is headed to a booth that is now occupied by her friends.

Eddie’s eyes are back on yours, he's noticed you watching him out of his periphery, since the girl walked up to him.

He shoots you a knowing smirk, as he heads towards the exit with the rest of his band, you assume they’re going to put the instruments away, so you turn in your seat and begin to down the second jack and coke you’d been babysitting.

About 8 minutes pass and you’re convinced he took one look at you and left, your eyes begin to burn at the thought.

That is until you hear the deep rasp of your name being called behind you as he taps you on the shoulder, you swivel around in your seat to find the colporate.

Your eyes meet a set of beautiful brown doe ones, you stare into them for a second before he’s calling your name again.

“You’re y/n, right?” He asks, now not so sure he has the right person.

“Y-yeah, im y/n.” Your confidence wavers as Eddie stands before you.

Wow, he’s even more beautiful up close.

You both continue to keep eye contact as if breaking it would end your air supply.

But before you can continue to make a bigger fool out of yourself, you are hopping off the bar stool.

Eddie doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce as you do.

Now he was able to take you all in, and boy did he do just that. His eyes roamed your body from head to toe.

You hold out a hand for him to shake, accompanied by the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

He slid his calloused, ringed hand into yours and lightly shook it, never once breaking eye contact while shooting you a toothy smile, showcasing his pearly whites.

“Let’s sit.” He suggests, as he gestures to the bar stools.

Now seated, Eddie waves a hand to get the bartender's attention.

“How many of those have you had?” Eddie asks, closer to your ear in an almost whisper.

“Oh, um this is my second one.” You timidly respond.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight, I want you to be coherent during our date, alright?” Eddie says in an almost commanding tone that makes your face heat up and an ache form in your belly.

“Two waters.” He says to the bartender as he holds up two of his ringed fingers.

Fuck, those rings were really doing it for you.

The bartender puts the waters Eddie ordered on little napkins and scoots them in front of you both, the condensation already leaving the napkin wet, you continue studying it before Eddie breaks the silence.

“So, how’d you like the show?” He asks sheepishly, as his right thumb circles the rim of his glass, you could only assume it was out of nervousness, or at least you hoped.

“I loved it, you guys are really good!” You beam, “got quite the fan base too.” You chuckle, Eddie can read the jealousy in your eyes, from a mile away.

“You jealous, baby?” He teases, making you roll your eyes at his cocky words.

“Yeah right.” Is all you say back before you take a sip of your water.

He chuckles before he speaks again.

“Can I be honest with you?” He says while trying to catch your eye, as you continue to observe the drink in front of you.

“Sure.” You say as your heart begins to race, your eyes finally meet his as you slightly turn to him in your chair.

“You’re not what I expected.” He says with a side smile

Ouch

“I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations.” You snap with a slump of your shoulders.

“Whoa whoa, princess” he put his hands up in defense, “you exceeded my expectations.” He says with a wide smile, moving in closer to your exposed ear “you’re fucking gorgeous.” He whispers

“And this little outfit,” he tsks “is this for me?”

“Maybe.” You reply shyly, as you bite your lip.

You and Eddie sit at the bar a little longer; chatting, flirting and getting to know each other.

You find out he’s been at his hotline job for almost a year, he enjoys playing dnd in his spare time and he was raised by his uncle who he still has a great relationship with.

You also learn all the basics: his favorite color is red, his favorite food is Chinese and pizza, he’s a cat person and he collects vinyl records and comic books. You’re pleased to find out he’s essentially a nerd, like you.

You were even able ask him the ever daunting question of ‘what made you pick up a phone sex gig?’, which to that Eddie answered ‘eh, I knew it’d be easy money and I’d get to do what I do best, which is talk.’ That got him a very pleasing chortle out of you.

You both continue talking about your common interests of comics, horror movies and music for a bit longer, until he orders you both a beer and suggests moving to the pool tables, as they’re now empty along with the majority of the bar.

You step off the stool, platform Mary Janes sticking to the bar floor as you make your way to the tables, Eddie’s eyes are glued to the backs of your thighs and your ass in that little skirt.

You were absolutely hypnotizing and he knew keeping his hands off of you was going to be a challenge, all he wanted to do was run his fingers through your hair and pull your lips to his, rub his hands up your thighs and play with the waistband of your panties. He bet you wore some cute little lacey ones, maybe you didn’t wear any at all? That prospect made Eddie swell in his jeans, instantly.

You grab two cue sticks off the wall and hand one to Eddie, you rub the blue chalk on the tip before you pass that to him, too

Eddie removes the triangle from around the pool balls before he’s gesturing with his hand “ladies first.” He asserts, making you giggle before bending over directly in front of him, you hit the white ball with the tip of your stick making two solid balls into one of the pockets, before throwing a cocky smirk—

“guess I’m solids.” You proclaim while moving around the table to where the white ball is now sitting. You take the shot and the ball you had your sights on ricochets off the side missing the pocket by a hair.

Eddie smiles at you before taking his turn. You admire him as he bends over the table, his butt looks way too good in those black levi’s and the way his leather jacket hugs his body makes you bite your lip. You’re deep in thought before Eddie is calling your name.

“Y/n?” you respond with a huh as your cheeks heat up, “I said, let’s make this interesting?” He turns towards you, both hands placed over the top of his pool cue, he has an insatiable grin on his face that you just want to kiss right off.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” You warely ask

“Everytime one of us makes a ball into the pocket, the other has to tell a secret.” He proposes with a sly grin.

You think about his words for a second, you didn’t have very many secrets, you were for the most part a good girl. You didn’t have any raunchy sex stories or a rebellious phase, so there wasn’t much to be revealed, but you figured Eddie had a ton so of course the smart thing to do was to agree, you would be an idiot not to.

“Okay, let’s do it!” You decide as you beam up at him, he nods his head in satisfaction before he’s moving out of your way for you to take your turn.

You make one ball into the pocket before you’re turning to him with a raise of your eyebrows, “spill, pretty boy.” You say before you could really think about your words, but before you can shy away and apologize, Eddie’s moving closer towards you with a smile on his face and a look in his eye you couldn’t quite read.

“Pretty boy, huh? That’s a new one… I like it.” He says in amusement, before he’s moving closer to you.

“My secret is, I’ve never had a real girlfriend.” He whispers closer to your ear.

“Ha-ha, yeah right! You have to tell an honest secret Eddie.” You roll your eyes as you move to grab your beer to take a sip.

“No, I’m being honest.” He says as his face slightly falls, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was being genuine, but the confession took you completely off guard, there’s no way this sexy man never had a girlfriend. Also why was that the first secret he confessed? The whole thing made you beyond curious.

“It’s still your turn.” He says, making you file those questions away for later.

You walk back up to the table stone faced and in deep thought, you take your shot and miss before moving back to where your beer was, picking it up and taking another sip.

Eddie bends over the table, one arm stretched out at the front of the pool cue while the other grips the back, tongue out and in complete concentration.

Your eyes catch on a little silver ball-

Your breath hitches when the realization hits you.

His tongue is pierced

How have you missed that? The new information made your mind run rampant, what it would feel like to have it brush up against your tongue, your clit-

Stop

Before the thoughts could completely take over, Eddie walks around the table towards you with bouncing eyebrows.

“Tell me something good, sweetheart.” Your body almost goes slack at the nickname, god anything he calls you makes your head spin, or maybe it was these drinks? You think to yourself.

“Well, ummm, I’ve never gotten high before.” You confess, as your face grows hot.

“Is that a secret?” He asks with a squint of his eyes.

“I guess, my friends all think I got high with them once but I didn’t actually smoke it right, so I told them I was high cause I didn’t want to have to try again.” God, that’s such an embarrassing confession and you can’t believe you just said it out loud, you really are a complete loser.

“Wow princess, that’s some top secret stuff.” He howls, as you tense up at his teasing.

Eddie notices the look on your face, making his smile falter.

“Hey baby, I’m kidding!” He says moving in closer until the tips of his sneakers are touching your mary janes.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes, they roam yours for a few seconds before he continues—

“I’m sorry, that’s a totally valid secret, okay? I didn’t mean to make fun or anything.” He says with sincerity.

“You're just a good girl, huh?” He says with a little smirk, “my good girl.” He whispers

You think for a second that he might make a move and kiss you, but instead he pulls away.

“Ya know what? Let’s get out of here, go grab some food and I don’t know, see where the night takes us.” He prescribes as he takes the pool cue out of your hands and hangs both back up on the wall.

He walks towards you and downs his beer, “you want this one too?” You ask as you motion towards the less than half full beer bottle in your hand.

He takes it from you and downs it too, before grabbing your hand and guiding you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

Eddie was definitely someone who was used to taking charge and that subtle dominance was making the blaze in your belly spread like wildfire.

You decide to leave your car in the parking lot of the bar, Eddie suggesting he drive you back to it when you’re ready to head home.

You agree, as he opens up the passenger door for you. Eddie takes your hand and helps you up before he places a sweet and tender kiss to the top of it, before letting it go to fall in your lap.

The van smells like cigarettes and woodsy cologne. You take a peek in the back seat before Eddie’s swinging the driver door open and hopping in.

The band's equipment takes up the majority of it, but you could see a little mattress pushed up beside one of the side windows, you wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in the back of his van after one of his shows. You turn to look at him as he puts the key in the ignition and turns it, the engine roars to life and before you could get another thought in, the tape Eddie is playing booms through the speakers, making you jump up a foot in your seat.

Eddie quickly turns the knob down before shooting you an apologetic smile.

“So what do you feel like eating, angel?” He inquires sweetly

Angel

Well, you definitely felt like you were in heaven, being with Eddie, so it was fitting.

You and Eddie had decided on burgers, fries and milkshakes— he drove through the drive thru of his favorite burger joint, handing you the food to secure on your lap.

You weren’t sure what plans Eddie had in mind, but you were all for following his lead.

You and Eddie both sang along to rock hard ride free by Judas Priest, as he drove around Hawkins.

He’d occasionally look over at you with a sweet smile, as you mouthed the words.

Finally, after the third or fourth time and out of pure curiosity you turn to meet his eyes, he’s looking at you with a glint in those big pools of brown.

He sends you a wink before his head turns back to the road in front of him.

God, he was gonna be the death of you.

Eddie parks in front of an unfamiliar lake, the glow of the moon illuminates off the water, making what would be a pitch black area in the woods, gleam.

You begin opening the bag and taking the food out, ready to hand him his burger and fries before he turns down the music and clears his throat.

“Do you wanna sit on the hood?” He suggests, before opening his door and leaping out.

“Yeah, sure.” You nod as you grab the food and make your way out of the door that was just opened for you.

Eddie helps you up first, platforms stomping all over his front bumper as you try to catch balance on the big hunk of metal below you.

“You got it?” Eddie asks as your knee hits the hood, you pull yourself into a seating position, you now worry if Eddie caught a glimpse of anything under your skirt as you struggled. He hands you the food, before he’s easily pulling himself up onto his hood, he scoots closer to you, arms and legs touching as he leans back against the front window.

You begin to eat your fries while you stare off, eyes darting from the lake to the bright stars hovering above.

You pass Eddie his greasy food “So, you come out here a lot?” Your voice felt so soft coming out of your mouth, almost like you didn’t wanna break his daze.

“To lovers lake?” He says in surprise “yeah, I actually do.” He smiles while taking the food out of your hands.

He unwraps his burger and takes a bite as you begin to repeat, ‘lovers lake’ to yourself in your head.

“Why do they call it lovers lake?” You ask without much thought.

Eddie swallows his bite a bit abruptly before he begins to speak, “honestly, it got its name because it’s a pretty big hook up spot.” He nonchalantly says.

“Mmm” is all you give him with a tight press of your lips, you can’t help but to wonder how many of his hookups he brought to this exact spot, to fuck on that exact mattress pushed against the window and band equipment.

You knew this was part of it, you didn’t meet him in any conventional way. You both had phone sex already for Christ sake.

But you still couldn’t help the ache in your chest and the way your belly burned ablaze at the thought of him bringing you somewhere he brought someone else.

I’ve never had a girlfriend before.

But surely he’s had hookups? You assume lots of hookups, Eddie exudes sex appeal. He’s like a sex god while up on that stage, so there is no doubt in your mind he has hooked up with a number of women after his shows.

It shouldn’t matter, that was his past and it doesn't concern you. But the knowledge that he’s as experienced as he is and you haven’t even been eaten out yet makes you nervous and insecure.

“You must really like that milkshake.” Eddie laughs at the way you’re lost in thought why simultaneously downing the strawberry flavored malt.

You nod in agreement but Eddie notices the way you’re slouched with a seemingly sad look in your eyes as you continue to stare out at the lake in front of you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks while moving in even closer to you and putting his hand he first wiped off onto his jeans, on your knee.

He begins to play with the fabric of your thigh high, while he awaits your answer.

“I’m fine, I’m just too in my head.” You say as Eddie takes the almost empty shake out of your hand and places the cup on the top of the van, behind you.

“Talk to me, baby.” Eddie continues rubbing at your knee, slightly working his way up to your unclothed thigh. Before snapping the fabric of your socks into your skin, making you slightly shriek with laughter.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous.” You say without looking at him.

“Nervous? Why would you be nervous?” He says it as if you shouldn’t have a care in the world, as if you were someone who should exude nothing but confidence.

If only that were true.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I haven’t done before.” You say as your eyes finally find his. “I’m not as experienced as you are, and I mean you taking me to a lake you’ve hooked up at probably multiple times, isn’t really helping.” You practically word vomit.

“Hey whoa, relax sweet girl.” He whispers while grabbing the meat of your inner thigh gently, his metal rings contrast the temperature of your skin perfectly.

His touch towards your more sensitive skin, draws goosebumps along your legs and arms. His affect on you is clear as day, even in the low light of the moon.

“I’ve never brought anyone out here. To be completely honest with you, I come out here alone to think and smoke. I’ve never hooked up with anyone here, baby. I can promise you that.” He continues—

“Now I would be lying if I said I didn’t have random hook ups in the back of the van, or in the parking lots or bathrooms of the bars I perform in.” You drop your head from his heated gaze to look down at his hand that is continuing to paw at the squishy skin of your thigh.

“Shit- look baby, just because I have some extra experience doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I mean how else am I gonna treat you nice and make you feel good? I couldn’t do that if I didn’t have some experience, right?” He says so close to your ear you can feel his breath.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” You nod, “I just don’t wanna be like the worst person you’ve ever been with.” You say with a somber laugh.

“Hey, you know this isn’t just about sex for me right? I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m very much looking forward to it.” he says before licking his red plump lips. “But this means so much more to me than that. I really like you sweetheart and I promise you, I will show you all the things you’ve been missing out on, okay?” He says with a deep set tone to his voice, one that could make you just fall to your knees for him.

He was oh so tempting.

“So, you’ve had plenty of hook ups but why is it you’ve never had a girlfriend?” You ask out of nothing but pure curiosity.

Eddie takes a deep breath before answering your loaded question.

“Believe it or not, I’m not too popular among the residents in this shit hole town.” His voice comes out equal parts dejected and vexed.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask as you put your hand on top of his, the one that still lays on your thigh, you lightly squeeze as an encouragement that you’re here, no matter what.

“Well, because of the way I dress and the music I listen to, oh and the fact that I play dnd.” He rolls his eyes before continuing “those are the reasons this town has labeled me a freak.” His jaw clenches slightly before he brings his chocolatey pools of brown to meet yours, the look he’s giving is so vulnerable, almost as if he’s giving you an out, a chance to run away from all the baggage his life brings.

“A freak?” You hiss as you scrunch your nose up in distaste, “and what’s so bad about that?” You ask innocently, too innocent.

“As far as I’m concerned, being different or a ‘freak’ isn't a bad thing, I mean to close minded people, maybe. But there’s a whole world out there of like minded people who like the same shit you do, just because this small town can’t value your differences doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” You say honestly, the words pour out of you like a waterfall and just as peaceful to Eddie’s ears.

He rubs the light stubble on his chin, as if in deep thought but really he was just letting your words sink in. Nobody has ever said something like that to him; he wanted to savor them, write them down to read over later when he was alone, something to come back to when the adults of Hawkins stick their noses up at him, a reminder.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He settles for those words instead of what he really wants to say and do in this moment.

He might be in love with you, he might be in so much deeper than he thought.

“Me? No” you say with a nonchalant shake of your head, cheeks heating up under the glow of the night sky. “I’m just being honest.” You remove your hand from his, to push some of your hair behind your ear in a shy manner.

Eddie scoots even closer, his hand that was gently rubbing at your thigh, now around the small of your back, his fingers settling into the exposed flesh of your side.

He moves in closer to the ear you had just exposed to him, “don’t get shy on me now, baby.” He whispers, his voice so easily makes your thighs clench and your body stiffen all in a matter of seconds.

Eddie’s cocky, knowing laugh rings out but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You feel embarrassed at how easily your body gives up control to him. As if you’re a puppet on a string, and him the perfect puppet master. He could make you do just about anything in this moment, more so with his husky voice pressed up against your ear. You want him to whisper the dirtiest things to you, call you his little slut. All things your ex wanted to do that you never wanted to entertain.

Eddie brings out a side of you, you never even knew existed. A side you are more than ready and willing to explore. If only with him.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute and sexy.” Eddie says while pulling out a half smoked joint he had tucked behind his other ear, he puts it between his lips before digging in his pocket for his lighter, a silver zippo with a skull in the middle.

“Mm, I don’t know about that.” You say with a laugh that shakes your shoulders.

“You need to stop selling yourself short, angel.” He says while lighting the spliff, smoke immediately bellows from his nose and mouth. God how could someone be so effortlessly sexy?

“You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for, you’re so much more y/n.” The way he says your name makes your insides twist in the best way. You’d never heard your ex talk about you like this, it was always what you could be better at, never that you were just good enough. Eddie made you feel good enough.

And in that moment you made it your goal to make him feel good enough, too.

After plenty of banter and deep conversation, Eddie hops off the hood, making his way to his side of the van. He flips down the visor retrieving something before making his way back towards you.

“So, I know you said you never smoked, but would you do me the honors of being the first person to get you high?” His eyes were hopeful but his voice was calm, as if to say no pressure without needing the words.

“I said I smoked, I just didn’t do it right.” You chuckle as you playfully roll your eyes “what the hell, why not?” You say after a quick deliberation.

“That’s the spirit, baby.” He says with a loud clap of his hands before climbing back onto his spot on the hood.

He does the same routine of pulling out his zippo and lightening and puffing with ease.

He blows the smoke up and into the crisp night sky, his neck on full display as he tilts his head back, the purplish blue veins making their appearance as they bulge ever so slightly out of alabaster skin.

You reach out and tuck his curly strand of hair behind his ear, a gentle gesture that pulls a smile from Eddie’s lips, his glossy red eyes meet yours for a second before he holds out the joint for you to take.

“You ready, beautiful?” His smile grows even wider as he notices the nervous look in your eyes.

God, you were the sweetest fucking thing.

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be.” You retort with slight sarcasm.

“You know you can say no, right? I would never pressure you into doing something you don’t want to, okay?” His tone was so gentle and understanding, it made the nervousness that had plagued your body a second ago vanish in an instant.

“I know, but I want to, with you.” You whisper the last part, so low it would be a miracle if he heard you over the sounds of the crickets chirping off in the distance, but he did and those two words made his heart soar more than anything he’s ever experienced.

After a couple attempts of hitting the joint, you finally inhale correctly, the quick burn of the grass instantly making you cough manically. Your face grew hot at the thought of Eddie hearing you almost hock up a lung.

But there was no judgment behind his eyes, just a look that could ease even the most anxious of souls. His hand rubbed in between your shoulder blades, gently back and forth.

“You okay, baby?” You gave him a nod before bursting out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“What’s so funny? Huh?” Eddie inquires as he bumps his shoulder lightly into yours, he’s now laughing at your cute hyena cackle.

He thought you looked the most beautiful like this, head thrown back, laugh echoing off of the lake probably scaring off any wildlife in a 20 mile radius, eyes glossed over and watery as you wiped them away. He wanted to make you laugh like that all the time. Keep you happy and laughing, forever.

“I think I’m high!” You squeak out between laughs, Eddie can’t help but to let out a hyena cackle of his own at your revelation.

“Yeah, sweetheart I gathered that.” He says, while not breaking his gaze from you; eyes filled with complete adoration.

“Hey Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your high has brought on a whole other side to you, a bold side.

“You said people here consider you a freak, right?” You say while trying to keep your train of thought with this new feeling of brain fog settling in.

“Why don’t you move somewhere else? You’d love Indy, there’s a ton of metalheads and punks and nobody gives them shit, it’s different in the city, people are much more open minded.” It comes out much more rambley than you meant for it to.

“I guess.. I’m just too chickenshit to move somewhere where I don’t know anyone, I’m not really sure, I mean I’ve thought about leaving, it just never seemed possible.” He huffs out, slightly dejected.

“Well now you know someone.” You say before grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, his palms were sweaty and his rings were warm despite the light spring breeze that had you holding the hand that wasn’t in Eddie’s grasp between your thighs for warmth.

Eddie brings your interlocked hand up to his face and lightly kisses the skin on the back of yours, before he’s letting go and hopping off the hood, once again.

“So what do you want to do? The night’s still young.” He says while fixing the crotch of his jeans, like they were too tight.

“Let’s go swimming in the lake?” You suggest with way too much enthusiasm, it makes Eddie chuckle with amusement.

“That lake has to be fucking freezing, it was iced over all winter and it barely melted last month, so no thank you.” He says with a definitive wave of his hand.

He looks over to find you looking down at your feet in disappointment. You were such a brat, Eddie thought to himself, he knew exactly what you were doing with that shy little pout of your lips, he could just bite into the plump skin.

“But I do know of a heated pool we can sneak into.” He says, making your pout turn right side up into the most perfect smile.

“Yes, a heated pool sounds amazing!” You squeal

You and Eddie pull up to a big gray two story house with a bright red door, the maroon BMW in the driveway catches your eye and you wonder how Eddie knew whoever it was that lives here.

In your eagerness you didn’t wait for Eddie to open your door, instead you quickly jump out, closing it as lightly as possible behind you.

“Cmon.” Eddie whispers as he comes around the van, grabbing you by your hand and practically dragging you to the side of the house.

Eddie makes a big show of jumping up onto the gate, he turns back to grab your hand to hoist you up but instead you flip the latch up and the side gate swings open. The look on Eddie’s face is priceless as he jumps down from his awkward position.

“Are you training to be a gargoyle?” You huff out a laugh trying not to be loud enough for the occupants of the big house to hear.

“Ha-ha” he mocks, but you could tell he wanted to laugh along. A smile broke out across his reddened cheeks. You wanted to pinch them and give them all the kisses but the sight in front of you broke you from that trance. Eddie was removing his leather jacket and pulling his band tee over his head, the tattoos that graced his torso up to his chest, neck and arms now on full display now.

They were beautiful, he was beautiful. There wasn’t an inch of skin left visible and fuck did that make you throb.

He begins toeing off his shoes and removing his jeans before he’s left standing in a pair of red plaid boxer shorts.

You swallow hard when you notice the tattoo above his lower stomach, the words “choking hazard” written in what looks to be the same font as those warning labels.

“You gonna go swimming in your outfit, baby?” Eddie taunts.

You shake your head before you start removing your platforms and thigh highs. The buzz must still be present in your body because the insecurities you would normally feel in this moment are null and void.

You remove your skirt, leaving you in a pair of white lace panties that match the corset top too perfectly. You had no choice but to go swimming in the top since you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, but at this moment you didn't care.

Either this weed made you far less uptight or Eddie brought out your adventurous side, either way you were gonna enjoy it and live in this moment with him.

You stalk up to where Eddie is sitting, his feet already dipped into the pool as he swings them back and forth. He wanted to give you privacy, didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with him watching you as you undress, which you thought was sweet.

You put your foot onto the first step to get a feel for the temperature and once you realize it’s perfect and warm, you bring your other foot in to join.

You continue on to the second, gaining Eddie’s attention now. He looks over and his eyes fall to your ass and the practically nonexistent panties you’re wearing, you turn around to face him and he can see the outline of your pussy making him swallow harshly. You look like an angel, he wanted nothing more than to corrupt. He stands up onto the step, he’s facing you while letting his eyes shamelessly roam your body.

A devious smile twists upon his lips, but before you can take a step back, Eddie is grabbing you by the waist and pushing you both into the deep water of the pool. You gasp as you come back up for air still in shock from the look in his eyes and his sudden actions. The smell of chlorine, now heavily stuck in your nose from the intake of chemical water.

Eddie swims up to you laughing, the devious smile now replaced with a smug one. You splash him while paddling away with hysterical laughter, you totally forgot that you were in someone else’s pool therefore not holding back the laughs and screams of Eddie's name as he swam towards you like the shark from jaws.

“Eddie please stop!” You cry out as you grab the side of the pool, your laughter making you too weak to keep yourself afloat.

Eddie finally grabs you, maneuvering your legs around his hips while he holds you by the backs of your thighs. He’s able to stand in the almost 6 foot deep end of the pool, water still hitting underneath his chin while you now willingly wrap your arms around his neck, palms placed flat onto the exposed skin of his back.

“Shhh, you gotta be quiet, baby.” He whispers seductively into your ear, it makes a shiver run down your spine. You can feel his hardness as it lines up perfectly with your core. Eddie’s hands move higher up, now grabbing two handfuls of your ass, making you buck your hips into his.

You moan into his neck as his hard cock catches against your barely covered clit. “Fuck.” Eddie growls into your ear while you continue to buck your hips.

Eddie begins to push your ass forcefully against him. He picks his head up from where it’s placed on your shoulder, to look at your face.

Your brows are furrow as an “o” shape settles on your beautiful lips. Eddie moves in closer but as you notice and before you could even begin moving in to meet him, a light from the back porch is turned on, making you and Eddie freeze in place.

A head pops out of the sliding door, a guy who looks to be around you and Eddie’s age, begins to shout—

“What the fuck?! What are you doing in my pool?” The guy with what you had to admit was a beautiful head of hair, shouts. Eddie hops up onto the ledge and pulls you out before rushing over to grab all of the clothes that sit scattered around the concrete.

“Run!” Eddie hisses at you, while picking up the last garment.

The guy's voice gets louder as you and Eddie begin to run; he shoves open the gate as you both make your way into the dimly lit street. You hear some shuffling behind you and can only assume the owner has begun chasing after you both, only making you run faster and your adrenaline skyrocket.

You both jump into the van with preparations to take off, but when you look out the window and observe your surroundings you notice you weren’t being followed, there was no one out on the street, but you and Eddie.

Once you both caught your breath and let your rapid pulses mellow out, you couldn’t hold it in; your hyena cackles were back and in full force as you began laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach from the dull pain.

Eddie couldn’t hold it in either, he throws his head back as he hysterically laughs at the events of the night. The fact that you both had to run in the street in your underwear was what had you wiping the tears from your eyes. It was one of those laughs that was good for the soul.

Once the laughing died down, your eyes were full of tears and your cheeks sore, an almost tense silence fell upon Eddie’s van. To someone else it would look as if you and Eddie were playing a round of who could stare the longest without blinking, but in reality the come down from the adrenaline and the tension from the pool had caught up and you and Eddie weren’t going to let another opportunity slip through your fingers.

Eddie’s eyes caught your lips first before doing a couple more glancing shifts from eyes to lips; you matched him by gawking at his full plump set, his tongue swiping over his bottom one, the tongue ring you forgot about now at the forefront of your mind, again.

You would do anything to feel it up against yours; up against any part of you to be perfectly honest.

You make the first move, throwing your patience out the barely cracked window; you move in closer, to Eddie’s surprise.

He slowly moves in to meet you, his patience must’ve left with yours because he grabs the back of your head, ringed fingers taking agency in the nape of hair on your neck. He pulls you in; lips clashing and tongues dancing together in a harmonized manner.

The silver ball against his tongue continues to roll against yours. Although he’s rough with his lips his tongue is gentle and precise, you’ve never kissed anyone and it feel this sensual and downright erotic.

Before you can overthink your next move, you climb into his lap, straddling his hips; your knees resting on each side of his tan leather bucket seats. The kiss grows more heated, his strong hands move across your body. One hand holds tightly onto your hip while the other explores your skin, once he gets to the fabric of your white panties, Eddie pulls the tiny elastic fabric, letting it pop back into your flesh making you groan out in pleasure.

“Mmm, did you like that sweet girl?” Eddie purrs into your ear, making you swiftly nod your head to confirm his suspicions.

“Fuck, you like a little bit of pain, baby?” He asks as if he’s ready to haul you over his middle console and spank your ass black and blue.

Is that what he’s into?

The thought made your body heat up like a furnace fire, you’ve never done anything like that before all of your sexual experiences had been vanilla at best, so the idea of Eddie inflicting pain on you for his own sexual gratification lit a match under your ass, you wanted to experience it all with Eddie. You wanted to use him as your own personal guinea pig, find out exactly what it is that was missing in your last relationship, what made you tick, what made you cum.

Eddie breaks the kiss leaving you to whimper at the loss “do you wanna head back to my place?” He inquires while reading your face for any signs of uneasiness at his admission.

“Yes, please.” You whisper into his lips, voice dripping with desperation. Eddie couldn’t help but twitch in his pants because of it.

The drive to Eddie’s apartment was unnerving, not only because of the very unpredictable sex you were about to have, but because Eddie was swerving in and out of lanes like a madman. His one hand effortlessly held the wheel while the other possessively grabbed at your thigh, your skirt right back in its rightful place.

Although Eddie’s grip on you could’ve made you melt into your seat, you couldn’t help but wish he would keep both hands on the wheel if he was going to drive like hell-for-leather.

Finally he pulls into a sparse car park, bringing the van to a full stop. You could’ve swung the door open and fell to your knees kissing the floor, beyond grateful to get to your destination in one piece. Your tight grip on the door handle falters and you move to make a bee line out of the death trap.

“Oh c'mon, I don’t drive that bad.” Eddie chuckles at your less than thrilled face. He puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you up some stairs and to a dingy white door.

Once you step through the threshold and into the very decently sized apartment, the smell of pumpkin hits your nose. You look around at all of the metal memorabilia displayed around his home; from the band posters to the vinyls and tapes, to the array of band tees laying around. You slip off your shoes before you make your way deeper into the living room, and just as you suspected a half burned through pumpkin candle sits on a large speaker/stereo combo that holds a large stack of tapes—

A vast collection of metal: exodus, metal church, massacre, sodom, venom and overkill just to name a few.

Eddie haphazardly throws his keys into a rusty dish near his entryway and stalks up behind you as you continue to take in the decor. His hands fall on your hips, as he rubs over the fabric of your skirt, inching down closer and closer to your exposed thighs.

Resting his chin on your bare shoulder, Eddie whispers tauntingly, “something catch your eye, angel?”

You take in a shaky breath before you’re able to answer, “just looking at your tapes, you’ve got quite the collection.” You smile as you turn around, now facing the object of your desire.

“Mm, see anything you like? I can put one in, just for you.” He whispers suggestively.

His hands make way under your skirt, slowly sliding up until their back on your ass, almost mirroring the same position you were in when you got caught in that guy with the nice hairs, pool.

“I see a lot of things I like.” You whisper back as you bat your lashes up at Eddie, “oh you meant put a tape in, I thought we were talking about something else.” You giggle at the way Eddie’s eyes widen a bit and snorts out a loud howl of laughter, his head tipping back at the suggestive joke.

“Oh, so little miss good girl can crack some naughty jokes? I didn’t think you’d catch that.” He presumes while rubbing at his hairless chin, as if stroking an imaginary beard.

“I said I wasn’t as experienced, I never said I was a virgin.” You challenge with a raise of your eyebrows, this was a side of you that you felt comfortable with around Eddie, the playful flirting. Although Eddie was much better at it, it was still fun to play along.

“Mm, I distinctly remember you telling me you’re a virgin at having your pussy eaten though, am I right?” Eddie practically growls into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and causing a herd of goosebumps to raise on your skin.

His crude words nearly make a whimper slip out of your mouth, you gracefully swallow it back down not wanting Eddie in on the effect he was having over your body, but judging by the changes on your skin and the slight chill you weren’t able to compose, Eddie was very much aware of said effect. His sly grin were the unspoken words you needed to egg on all those pretty noises he’d heard for the first time on the hotline, the ones Eddie couldn’t go to sleep without dreaming of, the ones he couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about.

“Isn’t that what you told me? No one’s ever showed your little pussy what it’s been missing.” He tsks before continuing “that’s a real shame baby, but I’d be damn happy to show your sweet peach how it’s supposed to be eaten, cause I do it really well.” His cocky boyish grin is making you flood your panties and the dirty words aren’t doing anything to help.

You’re stunned into silence, you had given Eddie all of your sexy flirty material. You were at your proverbial limit. You had run out of characters.

He was a phone sex operator, of course you couldn’t keep up with his dirty talk, this was just like another normal working night for him.

Eddie grabbed at your chin, gently tilting your head up towards his, he could tell you had checked out and were now in your head, something Eddie noticed that you do a lot.

“Hey, baby. You okay?” The concern in his voice made you snap out of whatever foggy daze you were in.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just you’re really good at that, too good, if I’m being honest.” You light heartedly confess with a titter.

“Do you not like it? Should I tone it down?” You could tell by the rasp in his voice that he was nervous, the last thing he’d want is to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable.

You realized in that moment that reassurance was key with Eddie, he needed you to be more vocal, let him know what you like and dislike, and he’d do the rest.

That sentiment finally made your shoulders drop, the tension and nervousness dissipating from your body in an instant, you could trust him, give yourself to him in a way you never felt comfortable doing with anyone else.

“No, I meant it in a good way. I really like it, Eddie.” You purred up at him with a shy smile.

He beamed down at you with a look you could only describe as complete adoration.

His hands continued roaming your hips, thighs and ass, before he spoke up again.

“Lay your pretty ass on the couch, let me take care of you baby.” He asserts with a harsh slap to your barely covered behind.

The moan you’ve tried so hard to conceal finally found its way out, making Eddie release a breathy laugh into your neck.

“I knew you’d like that,” Eddie shook his head in utter disbelief “now get on the couch princess, I don’t wanna have to punish you, okay?” His assertive voice grew soft, as if trying to scale your reaction to his little game.

You practically pounced on the couch, not having to be told twice. You were a ready and willing participant in whatever game Eddie wanted to play with you, as long as he continued touching and talking to you, you’d do just about anything he wanted.

You laid back on the black leather couch, your head touching the cracked armrest. Eddie stalked up like a predator to prey. “Nope,” he said with a pop of the p, “I want you like this..” he manhandles you into position. Your head on the lower backrest of the couch, your ass slightly hanging off the cushion as he lifts your legs up while simultaneously pulling them apart.

Your skirt now hiked up to your belly and your white panties on full display, along with the quarter sized wet spot in the middle of your center.

“Stay right there.” Eddie commands with a wag of his finger.

He saunters over to the stereo, grabbing for a cassette to slip on, most likely to hide your wails and moans that he’s going to gladly pull from you.

He doesn’t ask you what tape you want, again. Choosing one he knows will conceal your cries of pleasure.

You continue to do your best by holding yourself in place, not wanting to move and disobey what Eddie had asked of you.

It takes you a while to place what song he’s chosen to play, and in that moment you couldn’t be anymore grateful that you have an older metalhead sibling.

Dragon time by Saint Vitus booms through the speakers. The slow melodic voice, heavy shreds of the guitar and overall trippy work of the instruments was the perfect soundtrack for fucking.

Eddie wastes no time, before you can even comprehend what’s going on; he’s kneeling in front of you, face so close to your dripping wet pussy.

He makes quick work of pulling your panties off of your body, like he’s unwrapping the gift he’s been waiting ages for on Christmas morning.

His eagerness makes you giggle.

Eddie flashes you a warning look, as if to say “be quiet or I’ll make you be quiet.” You got the message loud and clear. He grabs at your thighs, once again pulling them back; your knees now resting on the leather of the backrest above your head, your pussy open and on full display like a beautiful painting just for him.

“Wow,” Eddie whispers to himself in complete and utter fascination, “you’re a fucking dream.” He utters again, while moving in closer to your glistening cunt.

He nudges your clit with the tip of his nose, making you whimper at the swift shock to your bundle of nerves.

Eddie smiles up at you through his lashes, offering you a cocky grin before he sticks his tongue out and kitten licks at your clit, the silver ball on his tongue adding the most perfect friction. His eyes never leave yours as he gently gives it a few more flicks.

The whole thing was so intimate, yet downright filthy. You loved it, loved everything Eddie was willing to give you.

“Fuck!” You groan, as his lips gently wrap around your sensitive nub and begins suckling. It felt like heaven, you couldn’t help but throw your head back in complete ecstasy.

Eddie continued lapping at your pussy while occasionally sucking or fucking you with his tongue.

He was right, he’s really fucking good at this.

Once Eddie slipped two fingers in and curled them up, you were a goner. Your body shaking and writhing as he sucked your clit while fucking you on his heavily ringed and tattooed digits. His left hand slowly rubbed up and down on your right thigh, while continually repeating how tight you were for him.

As you were cumming the hardest you’ve ever come, Eddie slipped his drenched pruney fingers from your sopping hole and grabbed both thighs hiking them up higher. He continued to suck on your clit, but this time it was with more pressure as he shook his head back and forth, for what you could only assume was for maximum pleasure.

“Holy shit! I’m cumming so hard!” You shouted over the music still playing in the background, “please don’t stop!” You began repeating to yourself like a prayer.

Once your body stopped shaking and your moans died down, Eddie popped his head up from between your thighs. He assed your face before asking “how was that?” As if your screams and cries weren’t enough of an answer.

“That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You say with a serious yet fucked out face, Eddie snorts at your words while letting go of your legs, they softly fall to the floor and you’re convinced if you tried to use them in any capacity, they would completely fail you.

“Do you need help, baby?” Eddie sweetly asks while holding out his hand for you to take.

You tentatively place your smaller hand in his, pulling yourself up on shaky legs. You flush with embarrassment when you feel a combination of Eddie’s spit and your juices spill down your inner thighs.

Eddie swiftly throws you over his shoulder, as if you weigh nothing, practically skipping off to what you presume was his bedroom, “Eddie, I could’ve walked!” You yelp.

“Well, your legs were shaky and what better way to thank you for letting me eat your sweet pussy, than to escort you straight to my bed, hmm?” He grunts as he slaps your exposed ass before lightly throwing you down onto his black silky sheets.

Eddie begins removing his leather jacket, harshly placing it over his brown wooden desk chair that was off to the side, then he makes quick work at removing his band shirt, haphazardly tossing it somewhere in the mess of his room, to be dealt with later. His tattoos once again capture your full attention, but this time you didn’t shy away from letting your eyes roam, you let them venture from his chest and arms to the “choking hazard” that made your heart race in your chest; you needed him, you needed him like the hot needs the sun.

As Eddie moves in closer, you notice the only thing left on his body are his damp red boxer shorts, your eyes selfishly roam his body, again. Finally meeting his chocolate brown orbs, as he hovers over you. A shaky breath is released from your mouth, a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks, sensing your nervousness. You nod as your doe eyes stare up at him, Eddie could’ve exploded; both heart and another organ, at the look you were giving him, so sweet and innocent, he fucking loved it.

“Yeah, it’s more than okay.” You reassure with a whisper, while studying Eddie’s face; his dark glazed over yet caring eyes, the light freckles on his nose and his beautiful swollen, kiss bitten lips.

He moves in closer rubbing his nose against yours, you close the gap for a second time tonight by bringing your lips to his in a hungry, lust filled kiss.

Eddie sucks on your bottom lip before his tongue makes entrance into your mouth. It’s sloppy and messy and spit filled and the pleasure of it goes straight between your legs. So much so, you cannot contain the desperate moans and whimpers that slip out, especially as Eddie begins to rub his rapidly growing cock against your very exposed pussy.

“You sound so pretty for me, baby.” Eddie whispers into your neck, “don’t stop making those noises okay? If I’m making you feel good I need to know, I don’t give a fuck how loud you get, understand?” He says as you both now realize the tape has stopped playing in the living room.

“Okay.” You shyly whisper back before biting at your tender, bottom lip.

Before Eddie has the chance to kiss you again, you speak up; still rather shyly. “Can I um, can I ask you a question?” Your voice is almost as low as the humming of the refrigerator in his kitchen, but thankfully Eddie hears you.

“You can ask me anything, sweet girl.” He says in a tone almost as low as yours.

“This is stupid but um have you ever gotten t-tested before?” You stutter out as your chest warms with embarrassment.

“Like for std’s?” Eddie says louder this time, almost in mild disbelief that you’d bring that up in the middle of what was happening, as that’s a question you usually ask beforehand.

You nod your head, feeling slight mortification while looking at everything in the room but Eddie.

“Yeah actually, I just got tested a few weeks ago.” He says while reaching in his night stand, a crinkle from paper could be heard as he whips the results from a test he had taken exactly three weeks ago out and in front of your face. “I don’t keep it in there for times like this, cause I know that’s where your mind will go.” He says with a huff of laughter.

You laugh back, playfully swatting at his chest.

“You know me too well, already.” You quip as you shake your head in disbelief that he has read you so well in just mere hours.

“What about you?” He asks, making your smile slightly falter into something more serious.

“Yeah, I actually had to get tested after Troy cheated on me, just to be sure. Ya know?” You said with a hint of glumness to your words. “I'm clean, and I haven’t been with anyone sense, so…” you trail off, while uncomfortably shifting underneath him.

Eddie studies your face for a few second before his head moves in closer to your ear, “are you asking because you want me to fuck you raw, sweetheart?” His words alone make you whimper, a little from embarrassment but mostly just because he’d picked up on exactly what you were trying to put down.

You nod with a “mmhm” that sounded more sexual than intended.

“Want to feel every inch of my cock in that tight little pussy, don’t you?” His cocky words and smirk to match made you want to cower away while simultaneously wanting to flip him over and ride him until your legs were sore. But you did no such thing. Instead you nod your head, again. This time with a seductive bat of your lashes as you bite at your bottom lip.

“Dirty girl.” He playfully snides before taking a chunk of skin on your neck between his teeth and gently biting, before sucking and soothing with the ball of his tongue ring.

You moan out into the dim light of his bedroom, your head falls deeper into his silk sheets as your back arches, pushing your clothed breasts into Eddie’s chest. The position allows him more access to leave all the marks he so pleased.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull out once I’m inside you, angel.” Eddie growls into your neck, before biting and sucking at more of your sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to.” You exhale with the sweetest most feminine moan Eddie has heard by far.

“Oh?” He chuckles before placing a few more wet kisses along your jawline to make you squirm.

“You want me to cum inside you too, sweet girl?” He shakes his head with a tsk, “Angel's not much of an angel at all, is she?” Eddie smirks at his teasing before going back to his work of leaving wet kisses across the skin of your neck.

You continue to moan and writhe at his provoking words, the burning in your belly feels like it’s rapidly spreading, and the only thing that can put it out is him, inside you.

Eddie begins to grow slightly impatient at your lack of words; his fingers make quick work at grabbing your cheeks with a little more force than you’ve been used to, tonight. “I asked you a question, baby. Do you want me to cum inside your pussy?”

Your eyes widen while his bore down into yours as if he’s so enamored by you, like he was genuinely looking at you for the first time. Not just a girl he wanted to sleep with, no. A girl he wanted to be with, a girl he wanted to grow with.

“Say it.” He growls. His fingers tighten on your cheeks, but not hard enough to cause pain. Even if they did you wouldn’t tell Eddie to stop, this side of him was one you were curious and enthralled to see more of.

“Yes. I want you to cum inside me, Eddie.” You whimper into his lips as they hover over yours, before continuing your desperate plea. “I’m on the pill.” You finish, before grabbing the back of Eddie’s head and crashing his lips back into yours, but before you could settle into the kiss, he pulls away.

Your eyes are still half lidded from the kiss before you realize his tattooed fingers are making work at removing the clips on your white corset top.

Your best guess would be around close to 40 small clasps, but Eddie’s dexterous fingers remove them all in under minutes.

He flings the white top open after the last obstacle has been removed. Gently pulling it from around your back and throwing it to meet his shirt and jeans somewhere scrawled on the mess of his bedroom floor.

He removes his knee from its kneeling position between your legs, standing up on both socked feet to take in your form. His eyes look dark and hungry while they explore every part of you that you have so gracefully exposed to him.

“You’re so beautiful and gorgeous…just fucking perfect, sweetheart.” He coos before moving back into his previous position of hovering over you, both hands taking place on each side of your head.

His arm tattoos, protruding veins and muscles are now eye level. You take in every tattoo from a flock of bats, to an “HF” in some old English font, to the name ‘Wayne’ in a heart tattoo on his chest. There were so many; you’d have to explore them later.

“Can I see all of you?” You ask, too timidly for your own liking.

Eddie’s warmth leaves yours, again. He works quickly, thumbing his boxers down and clumsily kicking them off of his left leg.

You chuckle at his uncoordinated actions, before your breath hitches in your throat; his cock now your sole focus and you couldn’t look at anything else in this moment if you tried.

It’s fat, long and the silver jewelry on his tip makes you clench your thighs together, but also kind of terrifies you at the same time.

His head is an angry red, some beads of precum have worked its way onto the jewelry. Everything about him has you salivating.

“It’ll fit, baby.” He sighed, you were surprised at the lack of cockiness in his voice. You wondered how many women’s eyes bulged at the sight of him, for him to be so used to having to quell away worries.

Not important, you’re here now.

“With the piercing too? Will that hurt?” You scrunch your nose up at the thought of it hurting your insides. No one you’ve ever been with had piercings, hell they didn’t even have tattoos, so this was all so new.

Eddie snorts “no, I promise it won’t hurt, the whole point is to bring you extreme pleasure. That’s all I intend to do.” He admits while moving to lift your skirt up, giving him a better view of your still glistening sex. The manicured hair on top of your mound now wet and shiny, too.

“How do you want me?” He asks as his fingertips ghost over your still sensitive clit.

“Can I be on top?” You hesitantly ask, you figured the position would give your body more control, or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself so you feel like you have some semblance of jurisdiction.

“Yeah baby, you can be on top.” Eddie nods while licking at his lips, he pulls you up so he can lay, now mirroring your previous position.

He sits up, pulling off your last article and letting the skirt meet the same fate as the other garments.

Eddie grabs your hips with both hands, moving you closer to straddle his lap. His cock lays flat upwards towards his belly button, so big you couldn’t help but to sit on the shaft. Warm skin on skin making you and Eddie moan out, as you maneuver yourself to get comfortable.

You’re still a soaked mess from Eddie’s earlier ministrations between your thighs, making the glide against Eddie’s shaft that much more delicious. “Fuck, angel!” He groans as his jaw tightens and his head falls back in complete and utter bliss.

“I need you inside me, Eddie.” You whisper into his jaw before you begin your trek down his neck to his chest. Leaving sloppy kisses of your own.

Eddie harshly grabs your ass with one hand, fingers prodding roughly into the fleshy globe while reaching down to wrap his other hand around his cock, giving it a few slow but forceful strokes before he begins lining his tip up with your dripping hole.

Once he’s finally breached your entrance, Eddie steadily holds your hips as if to keep you from taking too much at a time. His girth is stretching you open, so much that your eyes begin to slightly water and your breathing gets ragged. You can feel the silver jewelry sliding against your walls, you can feel it as you take him inch by mouth watering inch.

“Oh my god!” You and Eddie both groan in unison, as more curses slip out of Eddie’s mouth, yours drops open in a silent moan. Everything almost too much; while simultaneously not being even close to enough.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie whimpers.

You remove your hands that were digging harshly into Eddie’s shoulders, replacing them onto his sticker littered wooden headboard. The way he continued to split you open slowly, methodically had you gripping the wood so hard your knuckles began to whiten. The action brought your chest closer to Eddie’s face, he wasted no time before he began kissing, sucking and licking at your hardened nipples, his tongue ring gliding ever so sensually over the stiffened buds.

Finally, after your slow work of sinking down onto Eddie’s cock, it’s now sheathed entirely inside of you, along with the help of Eddie’s thumb rubbing small circles into your clit.

Your whole body was buzzing, you felt high and drunk off of Eddie, not only with having him inside of you but by the sounds that were slipping out of his pretty mouth, too many “fuck, babys” and “holy shits” to keep count.

Your hands grip the headboard even tighter as you use it as leverage to help you begin bouncing up and down on Eddie’s painfully hard cock, while he begins to lose it below you.

His hands move from your hips now that you’re fully seated on him, down to your ass. Taking two handfuls, fingers grabbing so tight his nails are breaching your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“Fuck yes, baby. Keep bouncing on my cock!” He growls before slapping one of the cheeks he’d been clutching for dear life. Your skin easily heats up at the force, the spank brought you more pleasure than you ever thought it would. You had decided right then that you wanted Eddie to be rougher with you.

“Please—” you begin, already too fucked out to string together a simple sentence.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums with a teasing lilt behind his words “what was that, angel? Please what? Huh?”

Your eyes begin to water again, not from the teasing but from the rapidly growing fire in the pit of your stomach, one you’ve never had the pleasure of feeling, until now.

You swallow away the spit that is now coating your tongue, before you try speaking again.

“Please, don’t be gentle. I n-need you to fuck me.” You do nothing to hide the shaky rasp in your sweet voice, Eddie can already feel you squeezing him, he knows you’re close.

So he takes matters into his own hands, regaining the control he so often enjoys.

He quickly flips you both over, deja vu of the position you’d first been in when Eddie threw you on his bed.

He makes haste work of grabbing his cock and slamming it back into you, this time giving you no warnings or slow thrusts. No, he’s giving you exactly what you so desperately begged for.

Eddie hikes your legs up by the backs of your knees. The position pushes him in deeper, so deep you can feel him in your abdomen.

“Fuck!” You whine “you’re so deep!” You can practically feel Eddie’s piercing drag against your spot, a spot you’ve only ever been able to reach once with your fingers at a time when you were particularly too horny, but it didn’t feel like this.

“I know I am, baby. I can see my dick in your belly.” He titters before he removes one hand from your leg, placing it on top of your lower stomach where his cock is protruding from, he rubs it as if he’s trying to jack himself off through your skin.

“You feel that?” He says while slowly thrusting in and out of your aching pussy. You glance down to get a better look, nodding your head with the smallest “mmhm” to follow.

He smirks at you with a wink before he’s back to the hard rough thrusts you so shamelessly begged for.

“Mmm, pussys so good princess. Can’t wait to fill her up, have her leaking my cum for hours.” He huskily groans into the skin of your neck.

His thrusts are relentless, and the fire in the pit of your stomach, returns with a vengeance.

“Oh fuck!” You wail as you feel the beginnings of a very intense orgasm, “I’m gonna—” you continue your shouts of pleasure. “Oh my god, Eddie!”

“That’s it, Angel. Cum for me.” He growls into your lips before moving in for a searing, passionate kiss.

“I’ve never—” the words die on your tongue, as the overwhelming sense of contemptment grips your body.

“No one’s ever made you cum on their cock, baby?” Eddie questions

His eyebrows are pinched as he stares into your eyes. His thrusts slow, making the semblance of a sweet release dissipate.

“No, no one’s ever made me cum but myself.” You bashfully confess.

Eddie’s thrusts come to a full stop, his eyes feel like they’re burning holes into your sockets. He clenches his jaw before shooting you a look of empathy, like he’s so sorry no one’s ever taken care of you before, but he’s here now and that's all he wants, to continue taking care of you, forever.

“Hold on to me, sweet girl.” He softly mutters “I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay?” It’s not said in a cocky, ‘I know I can make you cum’ kind of way, but more so in an ‘I’ll do anything you need to make you cum’ kind, and if he was thrusting any faster, those words would’ve been the thing to pull you under, deep into that ocean of orgasmic bliss.

You wrap your legs around Eddie’s lower back while throwing your hands around his neck, clinging on to him like some kind of koala to a tree.

Eddie smirks at your actions; fuck, if you weren’t the cutest fucking thing in the world.

His thrusts begin to pick up, gradually until they’re fast and unforgiving. He begins kissing and sucking on a spot he’s found that makes you squirm and moan.

He brings his thumb up to rub along your bottom lip, the calluses on his finger glide so smoothly on your spit soaked skin.

“Suck.” He demands into your ear, his words willing you to open up, taking the digit onto your tongue before closing. You make a little show of ‘how deep will it go?’ before finally popping off and leaving it drenched with your spittle.

He brings his saturated thumb in between your bodies and begins rubbing small gentle circles on your clit, making your body jolt at the shock of pleasure.

Your legs begin to shake and your limbs begin to tighten around Eddie, your head falls back and the words you wanna scream that are on the tip of your tongue, just won’t come out.

“That’s it, that’s it, Angel.” Eddie whispers to you with his head in the crook of your neck, “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby.” He tenderly growls, “you’re doing so good for me. Just let go, let go and cum on my cock.” He mumbles those last words before giving the spot on your neck a particularly hard suck.

His praise mixed with his pierced cock stretching you out and the attention to your neck; throws you so hard over that precipice, you’ve just been aching to fall from.

This orgasm was life changing, earth shattering, all consuming.

Once you’d fully come to, Eddie begins planting little kisses to your face and neck, repeating how good you did, and what a good girl you are for him.

“It’s my turn, baby.” Eddie whispers before he's pounding you into his mattress, deep hard strokes and filthy words.

“I’m gonna ruin your sweet little cunt for anyone else, you hear me?” He practically snarls “Tight fucking pussy, just for me.” He continues, “you ready baby? You ready for daddy’s cum?” His body stiffens before he begins groaning and babbling incoherently.

As he cums you treat his neck as he treated yours, leaving sloppy kisses and sucking little purple marks into his ivory skin.

Once his body has relaxed, you can feel his release dripping out of you and onto his silk sheets, but he makes no effort to move, his knees stay planted on the bed so as not to completely squish you while his head burrows into your breasts.

He sighs like he’s the most comfortable he’s ever been while you begin rubbing your nails gently across his scalp and playing with his brown curly strands.

The silence is comfortable for a few minutes as you both come back into your bodies from such intense climaxes.

Eddie’s body stiffens a bit as he looks up at you from between your chest.

“Can you be mine?” He timidly asks, as if a kid asking for candy.

“Yes, I’m yours Eddie.”

🏷️ list

@comfortcharactercraze @loritate7311 @elvendria @bexreadstoomuch @potayto-princess @cutiecusp @munsonsguitarpick @xlilithb @alienthings @hollster88 @aysheashea @dylpickleblog @ms1oftheboys @eddie-hero-munson @manda-panda-monium @skyfullofsong123 @jamiethebanished @bohemianrhapsody86 @marriedtoeddie @via-darling @josephquinncurl @tenderhornynihilist @ashlynnkennedy @bookshelf-dust @dumbslxtclub @yujyujj @emsgoodthinkin @variety-fangirl @briasnow-blog @rehfan @my-munson-styles @crazymasha @divadinag @mrsjellymunson @micheledawn1975

[thewatcher727]

Writing Tip - Portraying Characters Out Of Character

More writing tips

One of the most common criticisms in writing is when an established character is portrayed in a way that seems inconsistent with their usual traits or undergoes a sudden change in personality. The question is, is it wrong to want to write an established character in a different way?

My answer is that it’s fine if there is a plausible reason for it. For example, if John, who was previously a badass military guy, suddenly becomes a soft, joking character in a sequel, it’s going to make people wonder why his personality did a 180. The key to making a different portrayal plausible is through story and context. To explain this, I will use the video game Batman: Arkham Origins as an example.

We were first introduced to Arkham Batman in Batman: Arkham Asylum, which takes place during Bruce Wayne’s 11th year as Batman. In that game, Batman is portrayed as an experienced, highly skilled vigilante who is in complete control of his emotions. He never acts out when a situation goes wrong; instead, he calculates and plans his next move. Even though we see a few instances where he still carries the trauma of his childhood, his willpower is shown to be incredible. There are even rare moments when he makes jokes with Oracle. All in all, you get the sense this is a guy who knows what he’s doing.

Now let’s cut to Batman: Arkham Origins. This game is a prequel that takes place during Bruce’s second year as Batman. In this game, his personality is quite different, out of character so to speak. He is younger, angrier, and inexperienced. The game does an excellent job portraying how flawed Batman is through the small details. His fighting style is more raw and less polished compared to his later years. His suit looks bulkier and more thrown together rather than a single, cohesive design. We see him make mistakes when dealing with criminals. For example, in one cutscene, Batman is interrogating a guy named Loose Lips. As he holds Loose Lips up by the throat with one hand, he adjusts his footing and then chokes Loose Lips too hard, knocking him out. Batman acknowledges this by muttering, “Damn.” He is also very arrogant, underestimating the assassins that are out to get him and frequently telling Alfred he doesn’t need allies, determined to be a one-man army.

So, why do I consider this different portrayal good? The reason is that it fits the story they are trying to tell. Given the significant time gap between Origins and Asylum, it stands to reason that Batman would undergo some personality changes. The game provides an opportunity to show how Batman evolved from a young, reckless individual to the seasoned warrior we know later.

One of the best scenes is when, after nearly losing Alfred to Bane, Batman begins to doubt himself and considers giving up. Alfred, who finally understands why Bruce does what he does as Batman, encourages him to continue and let allies help him. Near the end, we see him working with James Gordon, hinting at how their relationship began to improve by the time of Asylum. We also see Batman working with Barbara to destroy Penguin’s weapons. This not only adds depth to Batman’s character, showing his capacity for growth and change, but it also sets up his future collaborations with characters like Oracle, Robin, and Nightwing. This development makes his later, more balanced and cooperative approach in Asylum and subsequent games feel earned and believable.

All in all, portraying a character out of character can be compelling if it aligns with the story and provides a logical progression. Batman’s arc in Arkham Origins shows he was flawed and needed to accept that he was not alone in his mission. Proper context and development are crucial in making these changes believable.

So, if you’re considering writing someone in a different way, keep this in mind and you’ll be good to go!

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Why I feel like Ka/taang is one-sided, despite textual evidence 

ATLA does try to convince us that Katara has romantic feelings for Aang. For example: she seems thoughtful when she realizes that Aang is a powerful bender; she’s offended that he didn’t want to kiss her in the Cave of Two Lovers; she gets jealous when Sokka says On Ji and Aang look good together.

So…what’s wrong with anti-Kataangers? Do we just lack media comprehension? 

To be clear, on their own, these gestures can indicate romantic interest. But at the same time, we have stuff like “Aang is a sweet little guy, like Momo.” We have her ambivalent facial expression after he kisses her before the eclipse, and her hedging during Ember Island Players, and her anger when he kisses her anyway. In the context of these conflicting cues, Katara’s possibly romantic reactions can absolutely be interpreted in a different way, because: 

Acknowledging a friend as a potential romantic interest is not the same as actually being romantically interested in them. (Imo this is something young women struggle with, due to a combination of romance-centrism and heteronormativity that make women feel like they should be in romantic relationships, and that boys and girls who share intimate and deep feelings for one another must be romantically into each other) 

Wanting someone to find you desirable is not the same as desiring that person. (Which is something a lot of women, especially young women, struggle with. Remember all the discourse around Cat Person back in 2017?) 

Being jealous when someone flirts with your friend is not the same as wanting to be with your friend. (Especially when you see your friends as family, or if you’re accustomed to a specific type of devotion from that friend. It is jealousy, and it is possessiveness, but it doesn’t always arise from romantic feelings) 

Growing up in a patriarchal society means that your desires are always filtered through what men want from you, sometimes in an abstract male gaze-y way, and sometimes in a very visceral and interpersonal way when a boy wants you specifically. And Katara’s reactions are just that — reactions. Reactions to what other people — including Aunt Wu, Sokka, Aang himself — have insinuated about her and Aang. She’s not really proactive in her interest in Aang: we don’t really see Aang, romantically, from Katara’s POV. Under the framework of “Katara is reacting to a romantic prospect she’s kind of uncertain about,” it is completely plausible — and indeed likely — that she would sometimes act in ways that indicate romantic interest, in addition to moments where she indicates the opposite. 

Ka/taang shippers often bring up other evidence, like Katara’s despair when Azula hits Aang with lightning, or how protective she is of him when Zuko joins the Gaang. The thing is, these pieces of evidence aren’t necessarily indicative of romantic love. The fact that Katara genuinely loves Aang makes the whole thing more complicated, not less, because — especially at that age, especially when Aang is twelve years old and grew up in a sex-segregated society of monks — it is really difficult to tell the difference between platonic love and romantic love. Their mutual devotion is layered and complex yet straightforward in its sincerity. What was not straightforward, until the last five minutes of the show, is whether this devotion on Katara’s end is romantic. The romantic arc for Katara and Aang is not really an arc, as Sneezy discusses in this classic ZK video. Katara actually becomes more conflicted over time and we never see an event that clarifies her feelings. She seems more interested in him in The Headband than on the Day of the Black Sun, and she has never been more hostile to his romantic overtures than in the penultimate episode. 

And in light of this, it’s pretty easy for fans to fill in the blanks with a different interpretation: maybe Katara’s weird expression after their kiss at the invasion means she didn’t enjoy it; maybe the kiss made her realize that she doesn’t actually feel that way about Aang; maybe against her will and her better judgement, she’s developing feelings for another person, a person who hurt her and whom she fervently tried to hate until he pulled off what is in my opinion the greatest grovel of all time in the form of a life-changing field trip. Maybe. Am I saying that Zutara has more romantic interactions than Ka/taang? Of course not. But ironically, the lack of romantic interactions means that it’s not inherently one-sided, the way Ka/taang became in the latter half of season 3.

I’m not arguing that Katara’s unequivocally not into Aang. Obviously the text declares that she is, because they get married and have kids. But I am saying that there’s a very good reason that so many people, especially women, see Katara’s interest in Aang as ambiguous. It’s not because we can’t pick up “subtle” hints of growing affection. It’s because we know not all affection is romantic, and it’s really easy for someone else’s insistent romantic intentions to muddle what you want.

P.S. I first started thinking about these topics (platonic vs romantic love, desiring someone vs wanting to be desired, etc) in the context of compulsory heterosexuality, a term describing how queer women contort themselves into relationships with men even if they’re not really into men. I saw a post a few days ago joking about why so many queer women seem to be into Zutara. I wonder if part of the reason is because as queer women, we are very sensitive to the ways in which we can talk ourselves into wanting things we don’t actually want, and Katara’s romantic interest in Aang can be easily seen that way. 

[sylvestris123]

What does the pre-Fall scene actually mean?

I’ve been thinking about that first scene, with pre-Fall Crowley. We are all swooning over how sweet and innocent Angel!Crowley is, and how smitten Aziraphale is, but on reflection there is something odd about this scene.

The action takes place before the rebellion, before the Fall, when bad things hadn’t even been invented yet. So why is Aziraphale already worried about Angel!Crowley getting into trouble for asking questions? Shouldn’t he also be a cute innocent bundle of fluff without a care in the world?

There is a meta that examines this (sorry, I can’t find it, I’m useless at this), which comes to the conclusion that Aziraphale later on is suffering from guilt (that he might have unwittingly prompted Crowley to seek answers and hence fall), but this still doesn’t explain why Aziraphale knows that asking questions might be a Bad Idea, and Angel!Crowley doesn’t. After all, Angel!Crowley has apparently been working “very closely with Upstairs”.  Shouldn’t he be a bit more clued up?

This leads me to think that there are 2 possible explanations for this.

1. Angel!Crowley has been so far out of things playing with stars that he really is clueless about everything (possible but doesn’t really match up to the Crowley that we know today).

2. This is not a true record of events.

Either: it is one of Aziraphale’s memories, but coloured by what he knows today, so the conversation that actually occurred might have been quite different. Maybe it is because of Aziraphale’s less than perfect recall, or maybe the memory was tweaked (e.g. by the Metatron) to emphasize the innocence of Angel!Crowley and the injustice of his later fall.

Or: IT NEVER EVEN HAPPENED AT ALL. Their true first meeting was as S1, on the walls of Eden, and it is all a false memory planted by the Metatron. (This could also explain why we don’t get to hear Angel!Crowley’s name. It’s not actually known, so can’t be added to the ‘memory’). Why would he do this? It could be to make Aziraphale think that Angel!Crowley was so full of joy that he should be reinstated to recapture that innocence.

There are plenty of theories about the other flashback episodes in the series, all of which could be interpreted as showing off Crowley’s 'good' side, to make the thought of his reinstatement as an angel more plausible or even necessary to right an ancient wrong.

If any or all of this is the Metatron’s doing, what is the motive? He clearly loathes Crowley. Maybe reinstatement as an angel would automatically wipe out his memories of being Crowley and all of his Earthly experience, so you would end up with a cute innocent (and ultimately useless) angel with no memories of his friendship with Aziraphale. Or perhaps it was a way to get him to come up to Heaven where he could be ambushed and imprisoned.

Or maybe the Metatron always knew that the very concept would go down like a lead balloon and that its aim was to make Aziraphale and Crowley part in such a way that they would be less likely to try to contact each other later.

There are so many pieces to this puzzle. Just when I think that a couple might go together I find others that don’t fit with the patterns already made, and which sometimes seem to belong to a different puzzle altogether. I’m sure that I already have 5 corner pieces.

[psychoticallytrans]

I believe very strongly that if you want to be an ally to marginalized groups, you should absolutely read and watch material bigoted against them.

This is because one of the big things that radicalization pipelines benefit from is the principle I've seen framed as "milk before meat", where they feed you palatable, easily digestible ideas, often with a kernel of truth, in order to work you up to the core of the bigoted ideology. If you go to the meat first, you will choke on it. This will make you more easily able to spot it when they try to feed you the milk, and more resistant because you know the meat it's building up to.

There are two keys. First, you need to start with the meat, and second, you need to read it with a sharply critical eye.

If you're looking to read something fatphobic, for example, Harry Potter may be a great mainstream example, but it's in a way that is so culturally acceptable that it can slip by if you aren't looking for it. "None For You: How Fat People Are Ruining America and the Planet and What You Can Do About It", on the other hand, is rather obvious in its biases, allowing an amateur to see them clearly for easier interrogation of the premise. Most bigoted material can be acquired by piracy or through your local library. This is one of the big reasons that libraries stock bigoted material.

Then, start noting down all of the things that the material says that seem to make sense, or that you are sure are true. There's no shame in this. Bigoted ideas are ingrained in your upbringing, and on top of this, a lot of bigots will take real problems and build on them in ways that are bigoted.

For instance, anti-immigrant sentiment in the USA is often bolstered by the fact that wages in the USA are effectively decreasing, along with job security. They say that this is because immigrants are taking the jobs, decreasing the amount of value that is available to USAmericans. To a USAmerican who does not know much about immigrants, but does know that their paycheck buys less and less, this sounds like a plausible explanation.

Then, later, look up exactly what they are saying. What are the real issues? (Racism and unchecked capitalism.) Why are they being used to bolster this argument? (Because it takes the heat off of powerful people and puts it on powerless ones, redirecting the hate to people it can more easily hurt, which satisfies the rage of the USAmerican, drives a wedge between them and immigrants, and takes heat off of the powerful.) What are real ways to tackle the real issue? (Solidarity with immigrant workers, especially undocumented ones, unions, and working for better social safety nets.) Why did I fall for that? (You did not have enough information.) Can I notice this rhetoric in the future and avoid falling for it? (Yes.)

Know that many of the ideas you encounter will be normal. Much bigotry is normal. Normal is not automatically good or right.

Know that there will be useful ideas interspersed with some bigotry. A lot of people with useful ideas have been bigots. This does not mean we must discard their ideas, nor that we must accept the bigotry. It does mean that we need to critically examine the ideas to see if they are rooted in and/or affected by the bigotry, and if it is possible to effectively remove them from their bigoted origins, or if the bigotry is so wound into the ideas that they is no longer useful if you wish to avoid harming the group the thinker was bigoted against.

This is difficult work to do. It is intellectually intensive, and emotionally exhausting. You will start seeing bigotry in all kinds of places, including media you thought of as "good" and "progressive", and that will also be emotionally exhausting and dispiriting. It will also mean that you are no longer passively absorbing those bigoted ideas because you settled on the idea that this media is "good" and that as long as you only consume "good" media, you will be free of bigoted ideas- a premise that is disturbingly popular for how incorrect it is. Knowing how to recognize and discard bigotry in works is far, far more useful than flatly refusing to consume more overtly bigoted works.

One way to make it easier is to form reading groups, so that you can lean on each other when reading something that's affecting you badly. It also means that there's more than one person processing the bigotry, so other people might notice more subtle parts of the bigotry that slipped past you in your own reading, allowing you to have a fuller picture of the book. If you can't form a reading group, more famous bigoted works often have criticism available online for you to read through. Remember to do your own research. What makes doing this so valuable is increasing your own ability to detect bigotry and to think critically about material you are consuming.

You do not have to limit yourself to traditional media, either. There are forums and social media bubbles that are hotbeds of bubbling, seething bigotry that is more extreme and repugnant than the vast majority of published work. Reading these conversations can be useful for the exact same reasons that reading overtly bigoted books, articles, letters, and essays can be, and they often contain more up to date dogwhistles. However, this is a riskier move. Social media is built to make you keep scrolling, and you can easily find yourself at your wits end and vulnerable to a bigot whose rhetoric is slightly less obvious than the others. In addition, it can be tempting to interact- at which point the bigots will either attack you or try to recruit you, both of which are damaging to you. Only read the conversations of bigots if you are well supported and have strong impulse control, and read them in small doses.

You are not immune to propaganda, but you can partially inoculate yourself into being less vulnerable by consuming it in controlled circumstances that match your ability to recognize it as such and reject it.

[pin-k-ink]

sweet tooth // yaku morisuke

tw ⇢ mutual pining, kitchen sex, food play, teasing, grinding, dry humping, nipple play, squirting, unprotected sex, begging, dirty talk

wc ⇢ 8k

From the moment Yaku first laid eyes on you, he was instantly captivated by the dichotomy of raw sin and sugary sweet innocence you seemed to effortlessly embody.

The cocky smirk curling those plump lips as you confidently strode up to the rowdy players promised endless sparks of mouthing off and defiant provocation. But coupled with the unmistakable flush of bashfulness tinting your cheeks and the slightly nervous bob of your throat as you drank them all in, it made for a dangerously alluring contradiction Yaku hadn't stood a chance against.

From that very first crackling moment, a reckless spark had been inadvertently lit within the compact libero's depths. One that progressively burned hotter and brighter with every subsequent sassing comeback or sidelong glimpse of thighs that went on for miles beneath those gloriously tiny athletic shorts you always wore.

Yaku wasn't oblivious to the open secret spreading amongst his teammates regarding his increasingly transparent preoccupation with the team's feisty manager. The way his gaze would linger a beat too long whenever you bent over with your hands braced on those glorious legs to shout drills or encouragement. Or how he always seemed to find himself drifting closer into your personal space than strictly necessary whenever you were riled up mid-rant, just to better breathe in the intoxicatingly sweet fragrance of your shampoo.

To their endless amusement, Yaku made virtually no effort towards maintaining any plausible deniability where his budding fixation upon you was involved. If anything, the reckless little devil mushrooming to life in his thoughts actively delighted in indulging your responsibly oblivious presence at every turn.

Whether it was lingering too long in locker room spaces as you bent over or carelessly stripped out of sweat-soaked workout gear. Or taking any and every available opportunity to deliver filthy, sotto-voce commentary about the various duties those lush lips and honeyed tongue could be put to if properly motivated. Yaku positively reveled in stoking those reckless flames licking hungrily at the edge of his subconscious restraint whenever you were around.

You, for your part, maintained a steadfast obliviousness towards the building storm of affected innocence clashing with sin Yaku was rapidly spiraling into around you. At least, on the surface level. Behind the warm, perpetually-flustered smiles and doe-eyed blinks you tossed his way, often in response to whatever deliciously-filthy innuendo he'd lobbed in your direction, lurked the faintest suspicion that you weren't quite as ignorant to his motives as you pretended.

There was simply no mistaking the way your eyes seemed to unconsciously trail after Yaku whenever he was bounding around the gym in those almost criminally complimentary shorts, all sinewy power and effortless grace. Or how you lingered far longer than necessary whenever bending alongside him to strap on those thin knee-pads that always strained so deliciously against his compact, muscular thighs...

It had been building towards an explosive precipice with each heated exchange and lingering look shared between you. Every snarky comeback or pointed flirtation you shamelessly tossed his way like gasoline on an inferno stoked the flames raging brighter and hotter inside Yaku. Before long, he knew the rationing threads of restraint dividing you would finally reach their breaking point under the sheer weight of that defiantly unchecked friction.

Which was likely why, on this particular endless night of the training camp from hell, found Yaku tossing and turning madly amidst a sweaty cocoon of tangled sheets and steadily spiraling frustration. The guttural chorus of Lev's foghorn snores didn't help matters, swiftly proving to be more grating than usual against Yaku's already frayed composure.

Rolling over with a muttered curse, he punched his pillow aggressively into a new configuration — only to immediately encounter your slumbering figure mere inches to his left. There you were, silky locks tousled into an adorably rumpled halo around your peaceful features and thin cotton top riding up to reveal a tantalizing strip of toned midriff.

Yaku swallowed hard against the instinctive flare of heat that molten glimpse ignited low in his belly. Even when utterly unconscious to the world, you possessed a gravity he could never resist getting drawn into for long. His heated stare traced the gentle rise and fall of your ribs as you breathed deeply, sweeping across the subtle curves that never failed to leave him lightheaded whenever glimpsed up close.

With a low, ragged exhalation, Yaku carefully eased up onto one elbow so he could better drink in your reposeful visage. In this unguarded state, the soft pout of your lips he'd daydreamed about far too often was somehow even more unforgivably lush and kissable than usual...

"Fuck," he growled beneath his breath as shameless want insisted on swirling molten paths through his already overheated veins. How many more times could he reasonably keep diving into those hazy fantasies of simply pinning you to the mattress and waking you with filthy, rough indulgence without going utterly mad?

Yaku forcibly dragged his gaze away from your peacefully slumbering form with a harsh inhalation. He couldn't keep torturing himself like this - drinking in every inadvertent temptation your softened features and subtly exposed skin provided. Lingering too long in that molten spiral would inevitably have disastrous consequences he wasn't nearly reckless enough to indulge just yet.

With a muttered curse, he carefully extricated himself from the sweat-dampened tangle of sheets, trying his best not to disturb your gentle rhythms of sleep. Yaku swept an admittedly hungrier look over the siren's visage you presented one last time before tearing himself away to make a hasty retreat. If he didn't find a way to douse these reckless flames flickering in his veins soon, he'd end up doing something unforgivably stupid before the long night was through.

The empty kitchen provided a much-needed oasis of relative serenity as Yaku slouched into one of the rickety wooden chairs with a groan. Trying to focus solely on the harsh rasp of his inhalations, he wrestled to shove all lingering thoughts of you from his fevers consciousness. It was pathetic how easily one flash of toned skin or glimpse of softened lips was enough to derail his composure into a tailspin of obscenities these days.

Before he could berate himself further down that spiral, a sudden muffled thump from the other room had Yaku tensing like a coiled viper. He immediately recognized the intruding sound for what it was - the telltale giveaway of you inevitably giving up on restful sleep in favor of seeking out nocturnal indulgences of your own.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before the kitchen door swung open to reveal your disheveled form padding inside - clad in an obscenely thin cotton tank and minuscule sleep shorts Yaku was convinced were little more than strategically-sewn blasphemy. The sight of you immediately derailed any tenuous grasp he'd managed to reclaim over his embered preoccupations in one harsh, stuttering breath.

"Thought I was the only one struggling with insomnia tonight," he heard himself remarking in a tone purposefully pitched to get your hackles rising. Anything to redirect attention away from the way his stare had immediately zeroed in on the sight of your cute nipples straining against your top.

You startled slightly at the low rumble of his voice unexpectedly filling the quiet before those luminous eyes blinked and focused in on him with a spark of adorable disgruntlement flickering to life there. Yaku's lips twitched in barely restrained humor at your trademark pout already taking formation - so easily riled even in your most softened, unguarded states.

"Don't act like you're shocked to find me raiding the kitchen for sweets at this hour," you shot back in a dry, snippy tone that never failed to stoke the flames of Yaku's want higher. "Pretty sure everyone on the team knows my late night cravings by now."

You punctuated those words by plucking a fresh bottle of chocolate sauce from the pantry and deliberately popping open the cap with a pointed look of challenge as if daring Yaku to comment further. His heavy-lidded gaze followed every flex and nuance of your movements with laser-sharp focus - from the way your hips canted in that subtly exaggerated sway he recognized as reflexive flirtation, to how your delicate throat bobbed with an audible swallow of anticipation.

"I could say something about you being an absolute sugar fiend," he mused aloud, voice low and rough with meaning. "But then again, I already knew how rampant those particular...'sweet tooths' of yours tend to get whenever I'm around."

The bold implication in his graveled observation hung heavily between you for a long, smoldering moment. Yaku could pinpoint the exact second his provocative insinuation truly landed based on the sudden flush staining those soft, rounded cheeks a bewitching pink.

"You...I..." you stammered faintly, any and all attempts to regain control over the heated situation utterly derailed in the wake of his suggestive rejoinder. Yaku felt his core tighten with a heady rush of dark victory as he continued to drink in your molten response.

"Don't strain anything trying to come up with a clever comeback to throw at me, beautiful," he practically purred, basking in the sight of you rendered breathless and wanting before him. "We both know you've got a very...specific appetite that's been getting harder and harder to properly satisfy lately."

He made a great show of languidly drinking in the sight of you, heated stare undressing every subtle twitch and squirm your body presented beneath the thin cotton fabrics. His tongue swept out unhurriedly to wet his lower lip, the unconscious display of sinful indulgence making your breath hitch audibly.

"Although..." Yaku rumbled at last in a thick, viscous rasp that immediately robbed you of any plausible ability to deflect or retreat. "If you're really that desperate for something sweet on your tongue, I'd be happy to start with a few...suggestions on learning to appreciate different flavors first."

The thick, charged silence that fell between you after Yaku's brazen innuendo was suffocating. You could only gape at him, lips parted around some half-formed rejoinder you couldn't quite vocalize through the dizzying spiral of inappropriate thoughts now ricocheting through your consciousness.

Yaku merely arched one eyebrow in a perfect facade of casualness even as those sharp, watchful eyes missed nothing of your overwrought response to his suggestion. He seemed to thrive off your stunned silence, lips curving in a slow, predatory smirk as he languidly raked his searing stare over your frozen form once more.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" he drawled in that same low, gravel-rough timbre that set every nerve ending alight. "You're usually so eager to run that smart little mouth at me. Don't tell me I've actually managed to render you speechless for once."

His words landed like a physical blow, igniting a fresh blaze of defiance that momentarily allowed you to find your voice through the smoldering haze of Want clouding your thoughts.

"You wish," you countered, proud at how your tone only wavered slightly as you struggled to regain some sense of higher footing. "I'm just trying to decide if indulging your clearly impaired sweet tooth for attention is really worth the inevitable indigestion it's bound to cause me."

The thinly-veiled barb seemed to delight Yaku rather than deter him, if the wicked glint that flickered through his heavy-lidded stare was any indication. He cocked his head slightly to the side in an almost curious manner, clearly entertaining himself by drinking in your every heated micro-expression.

"Well now, that kind of conviction simply demands I make my case as persuasively as possible, doesn't it?" he murmured, voice dropping into an impossibly lower register that seemed to vibrate straight through you in delicious waves.

You couldn't quite repress the full-body shiver that lashed down your limbs in response to his words. Yaku's darkening gaze followed the slight tremor greedily, clearly savoring whatever responsiveness you were unwillingly broadcasting in the face of his continued provocation.

"So by all means, go ahead and partake in that 'impaired sweet tooth' of yours to your heart's content," he continued smoothly, gesturing at the chocolate syrup bottle you still clutched with white-knuckle force. "Just don't be surprised when those empty indulgences leave you feeling...unsatisfied and craving something with a bit more substance instead."

The heated innuendo hung thickly between you as Yaku's stare slowly trailed down your torso in a pointed, covetous perusal. You felt abruptly, acutely naked beneath that blazing regard despite the thin cotton providing scant coverage. Every square inch of exposed skin now seemed to tingle with heightened awareness, as if hypersensitive to any and all possibilities of indecent exploration looming in Yaku's simmering depths.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the sheer concentrated heat radiating off your teammate in palpable waves. Unwanted fantasies of him slowly advancing with that dark, leonine intensity he always exuded began flashing like strobelights behind your eyelids. Of those rough, calloused palms coasting over fevered flesh in sinful reclamation as he growled velvet persuasions for you to abandon your sweet but ultimately hollow vices at last...

The undertow of that reckless temptation seemed to strengthen with every labored inhale you struggled against. Yaku looked utterly unrepentant for the blatant provocation and disruption he was gleefully inflicting - too clearly intoxicated by the reactions he instigated to consider doing anything but doubling down at this point.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, the picture of sinful arrogance as if silently demanding you make the next escalating move now that your temporary composure had crumbled around you. You could only gape at him for another infinite heartbeat, utterly mesmerized and wanting despite your best efforts.

Finally, you managed a shaky inhalation in a bid to steady your wildly derailed restraint. Eyes sparking challenge, you lifted the bottle of chocolate syrup to your parted lips and deliberately swiped your tongue through the glistening ring around the opening in a display of brazen, molten taunt you refused to back away from now...

Yaku visibly stilled at your bold action, the sudden hitch of his indrawn breath audible even from across the small kitchen. You held his smoldering stare unwaveringly as you slowly, deliberately dragged your tongue through the sticky syrup once more - openly savoring the rich, decadent flavor with transparently exaggerated relish.

The fleeting glimpse of your pink tongue flickering out to chase every last indulgent droplet seemed to root Yaku to the spot momentarily. You watched his throat work convulsively as he swallowed hard, ravenous focus now entirely centered on the lush movements of your lips and mouth.

Encouraged by his rapt attentions, you allowed your eyes to hood with deliberate suggestion as you traced the chocolate-slicked contours of your lower lip with the very tip of your index finger. A low, rough exhalation finally stuttered from Yaku at the overtly provocative display.

"Now who's the one aching to indulge an impaired sweet tooth..." he rasped out at last, the words emerging slightly strained beneath the undisguised want bleeding into his tone.

You simply hummed low acknowledgment without breaking the heated tableau. Holding his burning stare captive, you brought the same sinfully sticky fingertip up to hover a hairsbreadth from your parted lips. A fleeting moment of challenge passed between you before your tongue darted out to lave the chocolate in one long, indecent glide.

Yaku made a strangled noise low in his throat that could have been either anguish or rapture at the sight. His hands flexed convulsively at his sides, as if only barely restraining himself from surging across the short distance separating you at that very instant. You couldn't resist delivering one final, molten prod while you held the advantage of his immobilization.

"I don't know...you seemed pretty adamant about helping me explore some new flavors just now," you responded at last, pitching your voice into a gravelly drawl dripping with sin. "You'd better not be losing your stomach for a challenge already, Yaku-san. We're just getting started on developing my...palette."

The final syrupy endearment landed like a physical blow based on the way Yaku's pupils blew wide at the sound. You watched his chest expand with an indrawn hiss of pure incendiary restraint barely leashed as every sinewy muscle ratcheted taut. For one dizzying, suspended moment you thought he might actually detonate past the limits of his control.

Instead, with what seemed like a Herculean force of effort, Yaku peeled his heavy-lidded stare away from your deliberately provocative display long enough to rake a harsh hand through his disheveled hair. The strands seemed to catch fire beneath the low kitchen lighting, highlighting the stark lines of his jawline and throat in a way that had you abruptly struggling for your next rasping inhale.

"Is that what you think this is?" he growled at last in a low, dangerous timbre vibrating with blatant accusation. "Just some infantile game of trying to rattle the other into caving first?"

Refusing to be cowed, you simply arched one brow in cool challenge - the very picture of feigned disaffected composure despite your thundering pulse.

"If that's how you want to play it," was all you murmured in response. The silky words hung thickly between you, loaded with all manners of salacious subtext and yet more layers of audacious temptation still left to explore if Yaku dared.

His burnished gaze snapped back to yours at the low, heated rejoinder like a physical craving to indulge whatever new escalations of sinful behavior you seemed prepped to deliver. The rapid rise and fall of his compact chest made it abundantly clear just how thoroughly he was struggling beneath the growing strain of your taunting provocations and bold displays - despite every desperate attempt at maintaining a veneer of restraint.

"You're treading some seriously dangerous ground here, beautiful," Yaku growled in low, grating warning that only seemed to summon a fresh ripple of gooseflesh across your limbs. "Keep pushing those buttons and see what you end up unraveling. I won't be held responsible for whatever delicious ruination you end up craving and begging for next."

The molten promise blazing in Yaku's stare as he issued that low warning sent a delirious shiver cascading down your spine. You could practically taste the undercurrent of restrained wanting vibrating in every husky rasp of his voice as it curled around your senses in dizzying waves.

Refusing to be intimidated, you met that banked intensity with a deliberate arch of one brow - an audacious, unspoken challenge for him to back up the dark delicacies his words seemed to vow. Instead of flinching from the provocation, the razor-edged smirk curving Yaku's lips simply deepened further.

"When she asks to play with fire..." he murmured beneath his breath in a tone rife with sin and foreboding weight.

Then, before you could fully process his next intentions, Yaku had snatched the bottle of chocolate syrup from your suddenly lax fingers and proceeded to upend it over his palm in one smooth, unhurried pour. The thick, velvety sauce gushed forth in an obscenely suggestive deluge, rapidly pooling and dripping between the parted vee of his compact fingers in sinfully languid rivulets.

Your breath stuttered to a halt in your lungs as you watched that rich indulgence cascade so wantonly over Yaku's calloused skin. The sweetly cloying aroma of dark cocoa and vanilla suddenly felt utterly cloying in the hushed kitchen as it washed over your heightened senses in dizzying waves. You swallowed hard, mouth gone abruptly dry as your stare followed the sticky rivers of chocolate slowly painting intricate paths down Yaku's wrist and forearm.

When the bottle was nearly half empty, Yaku simply tossed it aside carelessly - utterly unconcerned by anything beyond the molten tableau he'd so flagrantly staged between you now. Your eyes traced helplessly over the mesmerizing crimson of his tongue darting out to lave up an errant drip trailing down towards the sensitive skin of his inner elbow.

"Well then?" he prompted at last in a low, gravel-rough rasp that raised tingles across your feverish skin. "You wanted my help learning to appreciate different...flavors, didn't you?"

You managed a shaky inhale that did precious little to steady your rapidly spiraling comprehension. But there was no denying the feral, depraved promise burning in those blown amber irises now. Or the blatant, undisguised invitation being extended in the form of Yaku's shamelessly chocolate-slicked forearm held out before you in unrepentant dare.

Another scant pause stretched out between you as your hammering pulse thundered in your ears. Yaku said nothing, didn't shift from his silent issuing of temptation and the unapologetic dare simmering in every taut line of his compact frame.

Finally, as if in dreamy slow motion, you felt your body leaning forward of its own volition - every synapse seeming to bend and gravitate towards the delicious possibilities spread so unforgivably before you. Yaku held himself utterly still except to track your approach with heavy-lidded promise darkening his gaze all the more.

Your knees nearly buckled as the first molten waves of cocoa hit your senses at true proximity. The intoxicating fragrance of indulgence washed over your tongue in near tactile caresses, coaxing a broken whimper of pure, unabashed yearning from between your parted lips that Yaku clearly savored.

In the next breath, you found yourself instinctively reaching up to fist around that sticky, messy wrist to steady your rapidly derailing control. You choked down a fresh guttural noise of approval, practically vibrating with need as your fingers sank into the rich, heated glide of warm chocolate.

Your gaze cut higher to find Yaku watching you through a smoldering look that managed to appear both victorious and rapacious in equal measures. His own chest rose and fell rapidly now, each panted exhalation sending another dizzying waft of that heady cocoa scent swirling between you.

"Go ahead..." he rasped in a rough, viscous invitation that veritably dripped molten sin. "Take your first taste, beautiful. Show me how much you hunger for this indulgence I'm offering up."

Whether it was the heated endearment, the gravel-rough timbre, or simply every last thread of your restraint finally snapping fully, you couldn't be certain. But in the next breath, you found yourself finally closing those last scant inches to hungrily chase the first sinful trail of chocolate with your questing tongue.

You couldn't tear your eyes away as Yaku slowly, deliberately brought that chocolate-slicked forearm towards his lips. Your breath caught at the sinful sight of his pink tongue darting out to swipe through the mess of melted syrup in one torturously languid glide.

A low, guttural rumble of approval reverberated up from his chest as Yaku clearly savored the rich, decadent notes bursting over his palate. His hooded gaze remained locked onto yours throughout, silently daring you to do the same - to fully give in and indulge the reckless want coursing between you.

Unable to resist the blatant temptation any longer, you imitated his unhurried motions and leaned in to chase the next molten trail of chocolate with your own questing tongue. The thick, velvety confection seemed to explode over your senses as your laved up every lingering indulgence painted across Yaku's flexing forearm.

An incendiary growl rumbled up from the compact libero as he watched your every brazen indulgence through eyes blazing with naked hunger. You found yourself pushing closer into the scant space between you, craving that unbearable heat radiating off his solid frame as much as the addictive taste coating your tongue.

On instinct, your glide of exploration eventually led to your mouths grazing in a ghost of tantalizing friction that had you both stuttering out harsh exhales of pure yearning. The sweet remnants mingled between you in a rapturous burst of sin-steeped sensation that threatened to obliterate any remaining restraint in a supernova of unleashed wanting.

There was a pregnant pause where you remained suspended in that breathless new proximity, dilated pupils locked and daring the other to finally shatter control and fully surrender to the storm of indecency you'd spent so long stoking together. Yaku was the one who moved first - his free hand snapping up to fist in your hair as he growled your name in a voice made viscous and drugged by unveiled lust.

In the next searing moment, he had captured your pliant mouth in a branding kiss that quickly shed any remaining veneers of propriety as your desperate whimpers of approval spurred him into rapacious overdrive. With molten indulgence now comingling between your dancing tongues, the final threads of resistance swiftly liquified as you gave yourselves over to the maelstrom of aching rapture neither could resist any longer.

As your fevered explorations reached dizzying new heights, Yaku suddenly pulled back just far enough to catch his ragged breath. His eyes were utterly incandescent, burning with naked possession and dark promise as he drank in your thoroughly debauched state.

Without breaking that searing connection, he reached over and grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup he'd hastily discarded earlier. You watched with thirsty fascination as he leisurely drizzled a fresh sinful rivulet over the map of your collarbones left exposed and glistening with a sheen of exertion.

"So greedy for those indulgences," Yaku rumbled in a voice gone low and grave-rough with restrained sin. "Let's see if we can find a few other spots to properly appreciate my favorite flavors, hmm?"

You whimpered faintly at the naked provocation vibrating through his words. But any coherent response swiftly shattered as Yaku brought the bottle higher, allowing the next velvety stream of chocolate to slowly drip and pool over your kiss-swollen bottom lip in a display so shamelessly indecent, you nearly combusted on the spot.

A searing whine escaped you as you instinctively surged up in pursuit of that fresh, cloying richness painted so tauntingly across your mouth. But Yaku simply tsked in mild rebuke, deftly snatching your chin between his thumb and forefinger to hold you immobile.

"Not so fast, beautiful," he growled in reprimand as you squirmed in delirious provocation. "You wanted me to teach you patience when it comes to savoring these long-neglected cravings of yours. So why don't you show me how well you can hold that delicious stillness while I reacquaint that sweet tooth of yours properly..."

On the last few words, Yaku deliberately angled your jaw to better expose the tantalizing rivulets of chocolate now streaking down over the curves of your chin. Then, with agonizing leisure, he began tracing every sticky, sinful path with the rough swipe of his tongue in a glide of unhurried reclamation.

You cried out sharply at the first molten connection, desperation and sheer blinding rapture swiftly liquifying what little sanity remained between you. All that existed in that heated vortex was the exquisite lap of Yaku's questing mouth against your flushed skin as he thoroughly indulged every smear of sweetness left glistening there.

By the time he finally reached your syrup-slicked lips once more, you were utterly undone—boneless and whimpering as a new conflagration of want roared to insatiable life throughout your veins. Yaku seemed to delight in your rapturous unraveling, a low predatory growl of satisfaction rumbling up from his chest as his piercing gaze finally met your own again.

"That's it, beautiful..." he rasped in a tone made viscous and drugged by unveiled lust. "Give in to those depraved little cravings you've been denying for far too long now..."

With those molten words ringing in your ears, Yaku sealed his mouth back over yours and proceeded to kiss the very air from your lungs. Any remaining sense of decency or inhibition burned up in the blistering wake of his ravenous, unapologetic claiming.

You felt his strong hands roughly gripping your hips, hauling you up until you were straddling his firm thighs with a keening whine. Those same sinful palms swiftly slid around to knead greedily at your ass as he proceeded to grind your clothed pussy against his straining erection.

A broken groan escaped you at the feel of him —hard and thick and demanding all manner of unapologetic ruination— pressing incessantly against the slick heat throbbing between your legs.

Yaku's answering growl of appreciation reverberated deep within his chest as you instinctively rocked against him again. The friction and pressure was dizzying in the wake of your fevered explorations thus far, rendering you even more lightheaded and desperate than before.

"Fuck," Yaku hissed against the slick curve of your jawline. His calloused palms continued their ruthless exploration as he rutted against you, the thin layers of cotton and elastic between you providing little barrier against the molten pleasure already ratcheting tighter and hotter in your core.

"Such a filthy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured in a gravelly rasp, nipping sharply at the tender juncture between your throat and collarbone. "All that teasing and taunting, only to unravel the second I make good on those threats of defiling you right here on the kitchen floor."

A broken sob tore free at the dark, decadent images his words conjured up. You clung to him even harder, arching your spine in a way that had him cursing and grinding harder still.

"I think this might just be a bigger sweet tooth than I originally thought..." Yaku husked, punctuating the statement by abruptly pinching and twisting the pert nipple straining against the thin fabric of your tank top.

The sharp edge of pain instantly ricocheted down your torso, sending another bolt of white-hot pleasure crashing through your veins. You whimpered, grinding yourself against him in frantic search of some relief from the pressure mounting and mounting within you.

"Yaku..." you managed to choke out between labored breaths. "Yaku, please..."

His answering smirk was downright salacious, a sinfully arrogant twist of his lips that made you want to simultaneously beg and bite. Without a word, he reached over to grab the half-empty chocolate syrup bottle.

You swallowed hard at the blatant intent flickering in his gaze as he tipped the decadent sauce in a slow drizzle down the column of your throat and beyond. Yaku watched the dark rivulets slide over and below the cotton material still concealing your chest, the molten hunger blazing in his eyes making you whimper and writhe with need.

"What do you say, beautiful?" he purred in a tone that immediately had you melting further beneath his ravenous attention. "Want me to get you messy and sticky and properly indulge your appetite for my favorite flavors?"

You couldn't find the strength to reply verbally, too consumed by the sight of him watching you with such shameless intent and desire. But Yaku clearly saw enough affirmation in your wrecked expression and the way you arched your spine in blatant offering.

In the next instant, he had shoved the flimsy hem of your tank top up to expose your bare, heaving chest. Then, without further preamble, Yaku proceeded to pour a fresh, sticky river of chocolate straight over the curves of your breasts.

You cried out harshly at the feel of those sweet rivulets cascading over sensitive flesh and peaked nipples. Yaku made a low, guttural noise of appreciation as he watched the sinful indulgence coating every dip and swell.

Before you could fully process his intentions, Yaku was surging forward to drag his warm, rough tongue in a languid stripe over one breast. You swore aloud, fisting one hand in his hair as he proceeded to trace the same path with deliberate slowness.

He made sure to collect every last drop of syrup left glistening on your flushed skin, the sinfully decadent glide of his mouth making you writhe and whimper beneath the onslaught. Yaku's answering hum of approval reverberated through every nerve ending, his lips and teeth soon following as he proceeded to suck and bite at the sensitive bud in ways that had you gasping and writhing against him.

Your fingers dug even harder into the thick locks of his hair, holding him in place as you ground against the thick length of his arousal still pressing so insistently against you. The combination of his wicked, talented mouth and the pressure building within was quickly sending you spiraling towards the edge of oblivion.

Just when you were sure the sensory overload was going to consume you entirely, Yaku finally tore his mouth away from your chest with a ragged growl. Your breath hitched at the sight of him, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide with pure, unrepentant lust.

"Don't move," he growled at last, the command reverberating straight through you in a shuddering ripple. Without breaking eye contact, Yaku reached over and upended the bottle once more.

A sharp gasp escaped you at the feel of those molten waves sliding over and around your other breast, pooling in the dip of your cleavage and trickling lower still. You could only stare in helpless fascination as Yaku watched the rich, cloying confection slowly painting your body in an obscenely lavish display.

You swore as his free hand came up to tweak and roll the nipple he'd so recently devoured. Yaku's answering rumble of approval was pure, unrepentant sin.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, almost absently. "Gonna lick up every last drop, then fill you up with something much richer and sweeter."

On the last words, Yaku was surging forward to capture the other stiff peak between his lips once more. Your fingers clenched and flexed against his scalp, the sensation of him lapping and suckling at you while simultaneously rutting against your dripping center nearly obliterating any lingering sense of self.

You could only cling to him, whimpering and whining as the pleasure built and built until it became impossible to ignore. Just when you were sure your heart might give out entirely, Yaku wrenched his mouth away with a harsh curse.

"Shit...that's it, beautiful," he groaned, the gravel-rough sound of his voice only ratcheting your own desperation higher. "Ride my cock until you come. Don't stop, not even when you're screaming my name and begging for more."

Yaku's filthy command sent you barreling towards the razor's edge in the space of a single heartbeat. Without further prompting, you began grinding and rolling your hips against his own in frantic, uncoordinated pursuit of that blessed release hovering just out of reach.

"Fuck, just like that," Yaku growled, voice going strained and thready as his grip on your hips tightened to bruising force. "Let me see you fall apart. Want to watch you come for me, all wet and desperate and aching to get fucked."

You let out a strangled cry, the last threads of control rapidly unraveling. Yaku was still rutting against you with renewed fervor, the hard ridge of his cock pressing so insistently against the soaked fabric clinging to your core.

"Fuck, beautiful," he ground out, sounding equally undone. "You're dripping, I can feel you soaking through the material. You gonna soak my cock, too? Gonna show me how much you ache for this indulgence?"

Your only response was a high, keening whine, the sensations coursing through you reaching fever pitch as you desperately chased that precipice hovering just out of reach. It wasn't until the telltale tingles began radiating up and down your limbs that you finally surrendered to the inevitable.

"Yaku," you sobbed, clutching at his shoulders and hair as if he were the only solid ground left amidst the maelstrom. "Yaku, I'm close, I'm so fucking close—"

He cut off your delirious litany with a branding kiss, swallowing your cries of release and sending you plummeting into a blinding supernova of oblivion as the orgasm tore through you. The white-hot rapture pulsed through your veins in a blistering torrent, reducing you to a boneless, whimpering mess as gush after scalding gush of your juices sprayed out of your cunt like a geyser.

Yaku's answering growl of approval reverberated through every inch of you in a dizzying rush. You could barely breathe, much less respond to his filthy praise and demands for you to continue riding him, chasing every last drop of the sweet, sinful climax he'd coaxed from you.

Eventually, the last tremors faded, leaving you to collapse weakly against Yaku's chest and heaving torso. His arms came around you instinctively, pulling you close and stroking along your back as you both struggled to regain your equilibrium.

"Fucking hell, beautiful..." he husked at last, the rough, breathless rasp of his voice sending shivers rippling down your spine all over again. "That was the hottest, filthiest thing I've ever witnessed."

You couldn't resist the small, sated smile tugging at your lips as you slowly lifted your head to meet his blazing amber stare. Yaku's lips were parted, cheeks still flushed and pupils blown wide as he watched you with an expression that was both reverent and ravenous.

"You didn't finish yet, though," you murmured, shifting against him deliberately until you could feel the hard, unyielding length of his erection pressing against the soaked fabric of your shorts once more.

Yaku hissed at the contact, the muscles of his stomach contracting involuntarily as his fingers reflexively clenched around the soft curves of your ass. "It's alright," he managed to grind out between clenched teeth. "We can take care of that later, once we're upstairs and—"

You cut off his words by leaning forward and capturing his bottom lip between your teeth. A low groan reverberated up from deep within his chest, the sound turning to a low rumble of satisfaction as you proceeded to suck and nip the plush curve until he was squirming beneath you.

"I can feel how much you're throbbing," you murmured, dragging your mouth down the stubbled line of his jaw. "And you were so deliciously good at making me come. Can't you let me return the favor and properly appreciate you now, too?"

Yaku's breathing audibly hitched, his hands reflexively flexing around your ass in a way that made you shiver.

"I didn't do it to earn any favors," he finally growled, the gravel-rough sound shooting straight between your thighs. "And if you keep trying to persuade me like that, I won't be responsible for what happens next."

You simply hummed in response, tracing the curve of his earlobe with your tongue. "Oh, I'm well aware. You've already made me a bit of a sticky mess, after all. Only seems fair to clean up that last indulgence and show you how thoroughly appreciative I am for everything you've given me tonight."

There was a moment of weighted silence, punctuated only by the rapid rise and fall of Yaku's chest as he clearly fought to hold his composure in check. But the temptation had already been set, and you were nothing if not relentless.

"Please?" you added, pitching your voice into a throaty croon as you leaned back just far enough to meet his heavy-lidded stare once more. "Pretty please, Morisuke?"

Whatever tenuous threads of restraint he'd been holding onto snapped in an instant at the sound of his given name on your lips. With a low, visceral growl that could only be described as predatory, Yaku hauled you closer and crushed his mouth back against yours.

The kiss was ravenous and unapologetic, searing past any remaining defenses and scorching every corner of your consciousness with raw, unrelenting want. You returned it just as fervently, savoring the feel of his tongue stroking and sliding against your own as the need to consume and be consumed rose between you once more.

You could already feel Yaku's hips rolling in tiny, unconscious circles, instinctively seeking friction and pressure to help him stave off his impending release. You shifted with him, grinding down against his cock until he was gasping and swearing against your mouth.

"Shit," he ground out, hands clenching and flexing around your hips as his forehead pressed into your shoulder. "Fuck, I can feel you, you're still dripping for me. Wanna make a real mess between those gorgeous thighs and hear you scream my name again while you're coming all over my cock."

A breathless whimper escaped you at his dark, decadent imagery. You could feel another wave of arousal gushing forth, soaking your panties and likely his shorts in the process.

"Fuck," Yaku snarled, his hold on your waist tightening to the point of delicious pain. "If you want my cock, beautiful, you'd better start getting those shorts off right the fuck now before I tear them from your body."

The sheer unabashed hunger vibrating in his words and the unyielding grip he maintained on you was intoxicating. Without further prompting, you found yourself scrambling off his lap and stripping your shorts away in a messy tangle of sodden fabric.

Once you'd managed to kick them aside, you moved to straddle him once more. Your thighs were trembling, slick and glistening with evidence of your release and his continued wanting.

But Yaku was far too worked up and impatient for the slow tease of removing his own shorts. Instead, he reached down to yank his zipper open and shove the material down just enough to expose his cock and balls.

A fresh rush of arousal surged between your legs at the sight. Yaku was thick and hard and straining, his balls visibly heavy and swollen and his shaft flushed a dark, angry red at the tip. The veins of his cock stood out prominently, throbbing visibly and leaving a smear of precum gleaming along the shaft and head.

A fresh flood of slick escaped you at the sight. Yaku hissed at the feel of it, his eyes going impossibly darker as they darted back up to meet your own.

"Get on my cock," he ground out, voice low and dangerous. "Now, or I swear I'll fuck you straight into the floor."

With a shuddering exhale, you braced your palms against his heaving chest and slowly, slowly lowered yourself down until his cockhead was teasing at the entrance of your pussy. Both of you swore as the blunt, swollen tip slipped through the slick, swollen folds, nudging just past your entrance and stretching you wider.

Yaku's head fell back, the column of his throat and chest flexing with restraint. "Don't you dare fucking tease me, beautiful," he hissed, voice strained and thready. "Either ride my cock or let me pin you to the ground and pound that tight cunt into submission. Choose quickly, or I will choose for you."

You were sure there was a time when those words would have intimidated and alarmed you. But right now, all you could focus on was the molten lust thrumming between you and the way Yaku's hands flexed against your hips, clearly desperate to take control and drive into you hard and deep.

The idea of being dominated and claimed by him like that was almost enough to send you hurtling towards another release. But you were too greedy for the sensation of him throbbing and twitching inside of you - too hungry for the way his thick length would stretch and fill you until you couldn't remember anything but his name and the feel of his cock claiming every last inch of your cunt.

With a low moan, you sank down over him, taking him inch by agonizing inch until you were fully seated.

"Shit," Yaku snarled, his grip on your waist nearly painful. "Fuck, you're so wet and tight, I can feel every inch of that delicious, greedy little cunt. Ride me, beautiful, fucking use me. Take whatever you need to get off again."

You didn't hesitate, rising up and sinking back down in one long, smooth glide that had you both moaning brokenly. You quickly found your rhythm, setting a pace that was languid but unrelenting as you chased the pleasure spiraling higher and tighter within you.

"So fucking good," Yaku groaned, his calloused palms stroking greedily up and down your sides as he rocked his hips to meet each downward slide. "Your pussy feels like a fucking vice, squeezing me so tightly, I can barely breathe. Fuck, you're incredible."

You whimpered, his dirty talk sending you careening even closer towards the edge of oblivion. Your thighs were trembling, the pressure and friction of him filling and stretching you in ways that were quickly short-circuiting your higher thinking.

Yaku must have sensed your impending release, because his movements suddenly shifted. With one firm grip around your waist, he suddenly flipped your positions, pinning you on your back beneath him and driving into you at a relentless, unrepentant pace.

You screamed at the new angle, the feel of him hitting that spot deep inside you again and again threatening to obliterate any remaining rationale. Yaku was muttering a litany of curses, the words intermixed with a continuous stream of filthy encouragement and praise as he watched his cock disappearing in and out of you.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, his eyes hooded and molten as they drank in the debauched picture you made beneath him. "I'm not gonna last, not when you look this wrecked and wanton. But I want to feel you coming all over my cock again first, understand? I want to feel your pussy squeezing the life out of me as you drench me with another flood of that sweet release."

Your nails raked down his back, his words alone threatening to push you over the precipice. Yaku groaned sharply, his eyes fluttering shut as his thrusts gained renewed intensity.

"You close, beautiful?" he panted, voice raw and desperate. "You're throbbing around me, I can feel how fucking close you are. Gonna let me fill that greedy cunt up? Gonna soak us both while I paint those walls with my cum?"

With a cry, you shattered apart, your release gushing from your pulsing, throbbing center and coating him and the kitchen floor alike. Yaku cursed harshly, his grip on your hip and hair painfully tight as his rhythm abruptly lost all coordination.

You could only cling to him, your keening wail of ecstasy rising in volume as you felt him twitch and pulse within you. The feel of his release filling you up and mingling with your own was nearly too much, reducing you to a writhing, whimpering mess as his name fell from your lips over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Yaku ground out between clenched teeth, the cords of his neck and shoulders straining as he fought to keep himself braced above you. His arms were shaking with exertion, sweat glistening across his flushed cheeks and the dip of his throat.

You could only stare, your own chest heaving as the last vestiges of your orgasms rippled through the both of you. Eventually, Yaku slumped against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he struggled to catch his breath.

You couldn't help the small, contented sigh that escaped you, relishing the feel of him warm and heavy and so intimately pressed against you. He must have felt it, because his lips curved up against your skin.

"Mmm," Yaku murmured, nuzzling the delicate skin of your throat. "You alright, pretty?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, turning just far enough to place a chaste kiss against his temple.

Yaku shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, his warm, sated gaze finding yours. "You okay with us staying here like this for a bit?"

You hummed your approval again, wrapping your legs more securely around his hips. "I'd like that. Unless you're worried about the chocolate stains we'll both have to scrub off the floor later..."

Yaku snorted, his expression softening as he took in the mess painted across the floor, your bodies, and his clothes. "We've made quite a mess, haven't we? Guess that means a shower is in order once we're both capable of standing again."

"Oh?" you couldn't resist arching a brow and smirking. "And are you offering to help me wash off, Morisuke?"

The full-bodied shudder that coursed through him was answer enough, as was the molten promise smoldering in his amber eyes.

"That, and much more," Yaku murmured, sealing his mouth against yours in a deep, branding kiss that left no doubt in either of your minds just how much you intended to savor your shared, unabashed sweet tooth...

[genericpuff]

The excessively passive voice when talking about Minthe being intended to have BPD is hilarious. "It was thought to have her written with BPD"? So weird

Honestly, once you start noticing this passive voice in how Rachel writes and talks, it's kind of hard to unsee.

Like, for starters, the BPD example. It's very non-committal, almost as if to sound like she never actually wrote her with BPD, it was just an 'idea' that she could neither confirm or deny as canon. But then you read the episode with the slap and-

It's- it's literally called "Splitting". It's about as subtle as a brick to the face. This entire episode showcases Minthe having an actual literal episode of splitting and it's plain as day to anyone who can read the title card and put two and two together. So for the wording to be so passive around her characterization... it wasn't "thought" to have her written with BPD, she was written with BPD.

Another example that sticks out in my mind of Rachel's passive writing is far later in Season 3, when Demeter reunites with Persephone and naturally expects her to come back home with her.

This line still fucking bothers me to this day. Besides the fact that it's just really poorly written dialogue, Persephone describes her being in love with Hades as if it's just some coincidental thing that happened to her that she can't avoid and not a deliberate choice she's making. "It would seem" my ass, Persephone is a coward for not being upfront and just talking to her mother like an adult by saying, "Mother, I love you, and I understand why you want me to come home, but I'm in love with Hades and want to stay in the Underworld with him." Instead the way it's worded is almost designed to absolve Persephone of any and all agency in her own decisions and active participation in her relationship with Hades by instead making it out to be just some circumstance that she can't get herself out of.

Again, this isn't quite as egregious as the aforementioned BPD scene, but it's still irritating because Rachel writes like this a lot throughout LO. And it's not just the dialogue either, entire decisions throughout the comic are flip-flopped and kept vague by Rachel so she can give herself plausible deniability over the narrative. I could come up with some of my own examples, but I think she managed to speak for herself just fine in the end-of-series Q&A that left both critics and fans of the series massively confused and disappointed:

LO is full of half-committed plotlines because Rachel herself can't commit to her own decisions. So the decisions she does make are left vague enough that hardcore fans are willing enough to fill in the blanks themselves, but anyone who asks her genuinely what her plan was, she just gives the same wordy "IDK it's up to your interpretation!" response. It's like she thinks people are asking her as just another reader who can only speculate, but she's literally the author, so why is she acting like her guess is as good as theirs?

Well, because that's how she wrote LO. That's how she's always written comics, with vague half-finished thoughts and just enough for readers to do the mental gymnastics of making sense of it all just to give her the credit for "smart writing" that she never actually did because she stopped paying attention after the first sentence. And that method of being vague for the sake of audience interpretation is fine for illustrations or anything that isn't trying to be a concise narrative, but LO did try to be that and it really shows how hard it failed in doing so when its own creator can't even come up with something slightly plausible to explain all the questions people had in the end. "There is some backstory there" but proceeds to not actually expand on said backstory. "I like to imply things without outright telling people", so do I, but the difference is that Rachel is using that as a crutch to not answer the questions she setup for her readers and then didn't resolve after five years. There's not wanting to spoon feed people the plot, and then there's literally refusing to explain your decisions when writing said plot, almost because you don't know any more than they do.

The entirety of LO is rooted in Rachel's passiveness, from her inability to answer questions concisely to every little plot point that was established and dropped throughout the comic's run. Writing a story is a series of decisions, deciding what to keep, deciding what not to keep, deciding what has to be changed, etc. and Rachel just... doesn't seem like someone who's ever been capable of making those decisions, especially when she's writing an actual long form story to the end and doesn't have the luxury of dropping it whenever it feels convenient for her like she did several times with The Doctor Pepper Show. Once she was actually held to a standard, once she was actually signed into a contract that expected her to make those decisions, she failed to and it culminated in one of the messiest conclusions to a story I've seen since Game of Thrones.

LO is kind of like Schrodinger's Cat - a plot point can be or not be whatever it needs to be so that Rachel can be either praised for smart writing she never did or absolved of bad writing that she did do. It's equally parts interesting and vague enough that whatever her readers give her credit for writing, she can give them a thumbs-up and go "you're totally right, champ!" and proceed to take all the credit of being a "good writer" from the efforts of her own audience who had to jump through a million hoops to make sense of her own messy writing.

But when she's put on the spot by those very same readers to answer for her own decisions, she can't.

Because she never made them.

Because there was never anything "deeper" going on, that's just what her style of "distraction writing" made you believe. The plot never lets you stop to think about what you just read long enough before zipping away to the next thing and distracting you with a new twist or a new character or a new plot point, and before you know it, you've gone weeks without reading about the last thing that was established you probably haven't even realized that those questions never got answered. Sometimes Rachel remembers to get back to those things and resolves them within a handful of panels, other times she forgets them entirely and just leaves them to rot in the hopes that no one ever calls her out on it. And when they do... she can just pull the get-out-of-jail-free "Welp, it's up to your interpretation!" card and get that credit all over again for being deep and insightful, meanwhile those who are rightfully dissatisfied with that answer are blanket-accused of "getting mad at Rachel for not writing the story they wanted".

To close out this ask that, per tradition, turned into an essay, I'd like to recall the famous words of fictional detective Benoit Blanc: "Look into the clear center of this glass onion... Miles Bron is an idiot!"

[shitouttabuck]

the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

buck/eddie | 1.4k | t

It’s quiet and late at the station, so Eddie can very clearly hear Buck dragging his feet across the loft from the kitchen to the couch, the sound such a specific combination of distracted and perturbed he already knows to expect the little crease between his eyebrows when he finally flings himself down beside Eddie.

“Ugh,” he says, frowning at his phone as he scrolls what seems to be Instagram.

Eddie hums indulgently, not taking his eyes off the newspaper crossword he pilfered from Hen earlier.

“Ugh,” Buck says again, much more pointed and with an additional nudge to Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m listening. What, Buck.”

“Ever since that barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s last weekend I’ve been getting the weirdest targeted ads on my Insta,” he pouts, scrolling some more.

“Weird how?” Five letter word for estrangement, ending with T.

Buck huffs and turns on the couch to face Eddie, lifting one leg up onto the cushion and folding it under himself.

“Well, May was introducing me to her college roommate—who, by the way, was giving off way more than just roommate vibes, did you notice? Like, they were acting real cozy and she kept—never mind, sorry, not the point, what I was saying was she borrowed my phone to look up something in one of those online stores, I don’t know, I guess they’re trying to decorate their apartment with a specific aesthetic? Either way, ever since then the Instagram algorithm seems to think that I want to see—” He stops scrolling, lifting his phone and thrusting it emphatically in Eddie’s face, “—shit like this.”

Eddie blinks at the proximity of the bright screen to his face, putting down his pencil to gently move Buck’s hand back a bit so he can see properly.

On the screen is an ad for… a pale blue babydoll tee with the word BRAT screenprinted across the chest in curly pink letters.

Eddie blinks again, mind blissfully empty of synapses firing until Buck says, “See? Why does my phone think this is something I would be interested in purchasing. I mean, can you imagine?”

Eddie can. Eddie can imagine. But dear God, Eddie does not want to imagine. Because now the synapses are firing like some kind of mental train derailment of catastrophic proportions, and Eddie’s mind is conjuring images of Buck, his best friend Buck, squeezed into this skin-tight cotton tee, already tailored to be snug-fitted on much smaller bodies and so nothing short of straining at every seam when met with the bulge of Buck’s biceps, the graphic logo proclaiming BRAT probably distorted across his broad, meaty chest.

“There’s more,” Buck’s telling him, scrolling again. “Like, look at this.”

He stops on a post that seems to be selling tiny red booty shorts, the words SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY emblazoned on the ass.

“I can’t wear shorts this short, my junk would fall out,” Buck grumbles to himself, scrolling once more for probably yet another advertisement whose only targeted goal is to ruin Eddie’s life, selling of wares be damned.

“I’m pretty sure those are women’s shorts,” Eddie says weakly, not thinking about Buck’s perky bubble butt clad in two-inch inseam booty shorts. Definitely not thinking about Buck disgruntledly tucking his dick so not to commit an act of public indecency—more so than the very donning of the shorts would count.

“Well, why doesn’t my algorithm know I’m a dude yet? If I’m being advertised this shit, at least let it be stuff I could plausibly buy for myself, you know?”

Eddie hums, only a little strangled. “So, you’d, uh, buy those shorts if they sold them in men’s sizes?”

Buck ignores him in favour of thrusting his phone at him again. “Look! This one and the next, keep scrolling.”

Eddie takes the phone from him, squinting at it. The first is another skin-tight babydoll tee, with the words GOOD GIRLS printed across the tits and the image of a swooping bird below.

“I don’t get it,” Eddie says, pausing over the post. “Good girls like birdwatching?”

Buck snorts, tips of his ears turning a little pink. “It’s a swallow.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. Then, “Oh.”

He scrolls to the next post as instructed. This one is a white t-shirt that says DON’T BULLY ME, I’LL CUM in red lettering, which—

“I’m either learning some—unforgettable things about you or about May, and honest to God, gun to my head, I don’t know which is worse,” he says faintly, tapping to the next post.

“Shut up, it’s not that fucking literal,” Buck grumbles, settling against the couch cushion more comfortably and watching Eddie scroll. “She was probably looking at some trendy Gen Z homeware or whatever and the algorithm saw the website and ran with it.”

“Mm, and you only started getting these ads after the barbecue? None of this is—your own digital footprint coming back to bite you in the ass?” Eddie grins as he passes a sponsored post for a vibrator brand.

“My digital footprint is not reflective of my sex life,” Buck huffs. “It’s not wrong, but it’s not—why the hell would I buy a tiny woman’s shirt that says BRAT across the chest?”

“Maybe because you—wait, it’s not wrong?” Once again, Eddie’s neurons stutter to an unexpected and horny stop. On the screen of Buck’s phone, his finger has halted over an ad for… jumbo-packs of lube, of all things. Eddie clears his throat. “Ooh, scandalous.”

“What?” Buck makes grabby hands for his phone.

Eddie passes it to him. “May really did mess up your algorithm. Also, I don’t know how I’m gonna look her in the eye at the next party.”

“Oh, uh,” Buck says, looking at the screen before turning off his phone. “No, that’s just. That’s just me, I think.”

Eddie wonders if his brain starting and stopping so frequently can result in permanent brain damage. He’s not sure he cares, because the resulting mental pictures—okay, some of that’s off-limits, always has been. Loving your best friend and respecting your best friend are not mutually exclusive, except, as it turns out, when you’re faced with the reminder that your best friend is having marathon anal sex with his—boyfriend, partner, whatever it is that Tommy is to him. Enough athletic and enthusiastic fucking to be getting ads for bulk-order lube on motherfucking Instagram.

He wonders if Tommy calls him that, calls him a brat and tells him he’s a good girl when he—

Wonders if Buck does like being bullied a little in bed—just teasing, Eddie would never—except it’s not Eddie, Eddie’s not involved in Buck’s love life, and what Eddie does need to do is shut down this line of thought before his strategically placed newspaper fails to hide that he’s half-hard at the thought of Buck in these ridiculously sexual innuendo themed women’s clothes.

“You’re not gonna finish that?” Buck nods to the folded crossword in his lap.

Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Uh. Sure.” He tilts the paper toward Buck, unwilling to hand it over completely. “Five letter for estrangement, ending in—”

“Split,” Buck says, nodding at the paper. “It’d fit with the P from apprise in ten down.”

“Oh,” Eddie peers at the crossword. “Yeah, it does. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ve, uh. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“About estrangement?” Eddie asks distractedly, filling in the letters. “Four letter word for just around the corner?”

Buck fidgets beside him. “About—splitting. Specifically—me and Tommy?”

Eddie looks up at him so fast he nearly gets whiplash. His grip on the pencil falters, and it skitters across the loft floor.

“That’s—not true. We’ve already—a week or so ago. We’re still friends, don’t worry,” Buck rushes to tell him. “He just realised, like, with you and me—well, I guess he knew the whole time, but I just realised—the way that you and I—the way that it’s us—c’mon, Eddie.”

“What?” Eddie manages, hoarser than he’s heard himself before.

“Eddie.”

“What’re you saying, Buck?”

“Are you gonna make me spell it out?” Buck sighs. “If I got a pair of red booty shorts that spelled SAVE A FIRE ENGINE, RIDE A FIREFIGHTER across the ass, would that work?”

“Tommy’s a firefighter,” Eddie says weakly.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Buck mutters under his breath. “Fine, if they said SAVE A FIRE ENGINE, RIDE A FIREFIGHTER WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE YOUR BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER, would it work then?”

“That’s a lot of writing,” Eddie says, voice still faint. “You don’t have the real estate in the rear for all that.”

When Buck kisses him, exasperated groan crushed into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie knows this is the rest of it—the rest of knowing him entirely: real, endless, and with a convenient standing order for bulk-packaged lube without involving any nosy algorithms.

“Four letter word for just around the corner. Near. Soon. This.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

[babacontainsmultitudes]

🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).

;) Big ol' ramble below

Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.

Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.

CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.

OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~