#as if normal rick isn’t bad enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juuuulez · 8 months

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showing them your party dress, and they judge you (thinking it’s slutty or they get jealous) and won’t come to the deannas party with you. you get drunk and they help u 😝😝😝 (comfort angst)

info: Rick Grimes x Reader, NSFW, sorta drunk sex, Spencer is a creep, unsafe sex/pulling out, p in v.

summary: After pissing you off over a comment about your outfit, Rick tries to prove your worth another way.

omg idk when this escalated into smut but it did, but thanks for the request!!! thought i’d show rick some love because he’s soooo dilf and there isn’t enough rick appreciation on this page

You wrap your hair around the curling iron, clamping down the hot metal and holding it in place. Tonight, Deanna is having a party for the new residents, and you’d been practically buzzing with excitement all day. Not only was Alexandria a miracle to come across, but they treated life with some semblance of normality.

“That the dress you’re wearin’?” A voice behind you asks, your gaze fluttering up to watch Rick through the mirror. He’s standing behind you, eyes scanning the dress you’d put on.

It was black, form-fitting and short. Paired with some kitten heels, you looked good enough to eat. Except, you’d thought it would illicit a bit more… excitement from your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” You agree, “Rosita found it for me. Said I’d look good in it.”

As if to prove your point, you turn around, giving a little spin in an almost childish manner. Rick stands there, stone faced, not betraying a single emotion.

“You do,” He finally lets up, “But is this the impression we wanna give?”

A response doesn’t come right away, silence filling the space between you as the words stew in your mind. They sound strangely negative, causing your brows to furrow into a little frown.

“C’mon, baby. You know what I mean.” Rick tries again, having sensed that he’s said something wrong.

But you’ve already turned away, continuing to primp your hair in the mirror. “Are you coming tonight?” You ask, completely avoiding his previous misstep for the sake of not becoming upset before the party.

“No, not tonight,” Rick sighs, “Got some shit to sort out.”

This one doesn’t get a reply either, and Rick knows that you aren’t pleased. So far, your relationship has been anything but normal. Back at the prison, he’d kept you at an arms length, finding your alluring nature and sweet smile threatening to his morals. Yet, over time, he’d let you in, and you’d wormed your way into his life.

“You could stay home, too. Wait for me. We’ll watch a movie when I get home.” He ends up suggesting, trying to alleviate your souring mood.

It’s fruitless, for you’re still persisting. “No. I want to party, like every other person in this town.”

“In that dress?” He questions once more.

You turn again, shooting the older man a glare. “Yes. Now leave, I’m getting ready, and you’re distracting me.” You essentially demand, and as not to get bitten, Rick obeys.

Part of you is pissed that he folded so easily, even though it was your bad temper. Regardless, you swore to have fun tonight, Rick or no Rick.

So, you finished doing your hair, even going so far as to put a little makeup on. It felt good, all of it, mainly because it just felt normal. You ventured from your house, trailing down the street to where the commotion was, eager to have a fun night out and remove Rick’s comment from your mind.

Though you claimed to be over it, your actions were saying otherwise.

Alcohol wasn’t commonplace during the apocalypse, at least not for your group. It wasn’t a necessity, and would only worsen the burden of surviving, having to recover from hangovers or be momentarily inebriated.

But tonight? You’d drink as much as you wanted to. Wine had never really been your favourite, but now, it was like liquid gold.

Maybe you were still annoyed at Rick, and you certainly were annoyed at Spencer, who kept talking to you at every possible opportunity. He didn’t like Rick, so in favour, you didn’t like him.

Everything turned into a blur at one point, and you would vaguely remember sitting down on the couch, nursing a cup of water in hand. Who gave you water? It didn’t really matter, for once more, Spencer had sat next to you.

He offered you another glass of wine, and stupidly, you took it.

“Ever get bored of playing with your old man?” He asked, lips upturned into a wicked grin, like the joke was supposed to be amusing. It wasn’t.

There’s a sickly feeling in your stomach, though it doesn’t stem from the alcohol, but guilt. “I need some air.” You end up mumbling, uncoordinatedly stumbling from the couch.

Spencer follows a few steps behind you, his hand on your arm with the feinted intention of helping.

“Without you!” You clarify in a drunken yell, messily yanking both heels from your feet, leaving them in the hallway while you make a break for the door.

Fortunately, Spencer gets the message.

Not that it mattered, for there was another face you didn’t want to see, waiting right outside.

Rick looked so good in the little police uniform they’d given him, with his clean shaven face and trimmed hair. It was a completely different man from the one you’d known, but delicious nonetheless.

“I don’t need your help, asshole.” You snap whilst faltering down the steps, barefoot on the pavement. Right now, he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of helping you, or knowing how good he looked.

“Yes you do, c’mon.” Rick persists, and when he moves to take your arm, you don’t protest. Maybe you are a little far gone. He gently leads you along, one hand wrapped around your shoulder, the other carefully tugging the bottom of your dress down a little more.

It’s a short walk back home, to the little picket-fenced house you’ve been living in. The instance you’re inside, you collapse on the couch, melting into the fabric and willing to pass out right then and there.

Rick kneels down on the ground, leaning in and removing your jewellery. Necklace, earrings, bracelet. Once they’re all set aside, he sits on the couch, the movement causing you to rise with a little frown.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks, large hands scooping under your thighs and manoeuvring your body into his lap.

When you only look down, he grips at your chin, forcing the eye contact. The frown deepens, though now out of defiance, still drunk and a little pissed off.

“We’ve spent so long bein’ dirty ‘n muddy ‘n gross..” You begin in a mumble, the words coming out as one long sigh. “I just wanted to feel sexy.”

“You are so sexy,” Rick urges, hand caressing your side. “Always.”

“Then you should’ve come to the party with me.” You retort, that sad look still on your face, and it takes everything in Rick not to kiss it off.

“I know, I know. I should’ve been there,” He agrees, “And I should’ve told you how damn good this dress looks on you.”

Your nose scrunches up in confusion, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Rick finally releases his grip on your chin, skating both hands down the smooth curve of your sides, all nicely contained in that skimpy dress. It’s like a perfect package, one he wants to unwrap.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, baby. I love it,” He reveals, eyes locked onto yours, “But I wanna be the only one who can love it.”

A grin finally grows on your lips, still all pink and glossy from the makeup. Even in your drunken state, there’s something alluring about the way you lean closer, breath fanning over Rick’s lips.

“Then prove it.” You whisper.

Like a moth to a flame, Rick bites. He closes the gap, savouring your sloppy kisses as you devour his lips, hands fumbling to cup either side of his smooth face. Somehow, kissing him felt even better drunk, like everything else just melted away.

Disconnecting, Rick trailed purposeful kisses down your neck, sucking brief marks into your skin, staking his claim. He peeled the straps of the dress down, pushing the fabric down under the swell of your breasts, until they were completely bare to him.

You gasped as his lips trapped a nipple, fondling at the supple flesh whilst worshipping you with his mouth. But you were already strung tight, not having the patience to deal with a night of teasing.

Fingers hooked into his belt, painted nails scratching at the denim as you failed to muster enough coordination to unzip him. “Please.. please, Rick.” You whined.

“I know, baby. Don’t have’ta beg tonight.” He assures you in that rough, yet soothing tone, taking over and pulling his cock free of its restraints.

Rick pushes the dress up over your hips, the soft fabric now simply a band around your waist. You’re eager to take him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders whilst you hover over his thighs, allowing Rick to line you up and make the slide easier.

The drunken haze has faded some, replaced by a blanket of arousal as you slowly ride him, fingers gripping at his shirt. You’re saying something, begging probably, but it doesn’t make any sense. Not that it matters.

Though you’re set on riding him, Rick knows you’re probably sore from those heels all night, so he grips tight at your hips to flip you over, drilling you down into the plush couch.

“Fuck..” You gasp, head lolling to the side as Rick bites into the flesh of your neck, body completely surrounding you as his thrusts become powerful and short, angled up right where you need it.

“I know, baby. You can take it.” He grunts, using all his strength to draw you closer to the edge.

By now, he knows your tells. The tightening of your cunt as it squeezes him, the way your legs wrap around his slim waist. Whatever words make it from your mouth, though unintelligible, take on a whiny pitch.

Rick snakes his hand between you, pressing firm, tight circles around your clit that make you gasp and squirm under him. “Quietly, baby. You can do it. Let go for me.”

And that you do, hips bucking upwards as your peak finally hits, muffling your cries into his shoulder. The pulsating around his dick causes Rick to finally falter, managing a few more staggered, sharp thrusts before roughly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach. Spurts of white cum coat the bunched up dress, some even reaching the underside of your tits.

“Fuck,” Rick pants, catching his breath. “Looks like you can’t wear this dress anyway.”

#the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x you

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ruegarding · 4 months

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hello! I hope your having a good day! If you don't mind me asking, what is your opinion on the Cupid Scene in Hoo? And if you could how would you change it?

my opinion on the cupid scene…well, i don't think a traumatic coming out scene is automatically bad. the problem i have w it is that rick capitalized on shock value instead of good writing. rick retconned a bunch of things to make nico alone and miserable so that he could have this scene, and it was completely unnecessary. ppl can have friends without coming out. and, as i’ve repeatedly said, the way hoo is written is literally a repeat of his arc in pjo but worse, because we’re acting like important events in pjo didn’t happen in a series that’s supposed to be a sequel to pjo and rick is inconsistent so the payoff is questionable.

the solution is…good writing. creating a cohesive and intriguing plotline where this scene is either necessary or scrapped if it isn’t.

thus begins an unnecessarily deep dive into all the retcons, inconsistencies, and general what-the-fuckery of nico’s arc in hoo bc i’m the verbose king and we've accidentally stumbled into something i have a lot to say abt.

first retcon. in son, frank explicitly says that nico does not make him nervous and describes nico as mysterious. not weird, creepy, off-putting, or anything similar. and nico is! he is clearly hiding things and shows up infrequently. this is a neutral description, and frank goes on to say that pluto’s powers, and specifically the underworld, isn’t enough to make him dislike pluto or nico.

also this, showing nico is comfortable enough around frank:

but then in hoh, frank thinks going somewhere with nico, alone, is terrifying.

at worst, frank would’ve felt awkward. they’ve never had to talk alone bc nico is at camp jupiter for hazel and doesn’t have any reason to talk to frank by himself. if frank didn’t want to be alone w nico bc of that, it’d make sense. but that’s not what’s said or implied! and nothing has happened! nico got kidnapped, they saved him, and since then he’s been chilling on the boat, exactly as weird as before, if a little more understandably distressed. like, nothing happened to change frank’s opinion this drastically. even the difference between pluto and hades (wealth vs death) doesn’t matter bc nico uses his powers in son. also frank literally summons a skeleton guy in son and hazel is a zombie, like…

(the source isn’t important but i've been quoting these five seconds for years)

oh! and that’s not all, it gets worse!

these scenes from hoh are incredibly infantilizing. why are we treating nico like a feral dog that needs to be domesticated??? yikes. and once again, it’s not true! nico was fine talking w ppl in pjo (if a bit over-enthusiastic). and then in son he was perfectly civil and was fine having the conversation abt the quest. his issue w ppl was that his powers/parentage put ppl off, and, even in son, that he had to keep a secret.

nico is perfectly capable of speaking like a normal person and working as part of a team (see: final botl battle, final tlo battle, the sword of hades). like, nico’s struggle in hoh should be 1) that ppl are calling him creepy behind his back (and therefore has nothing to do w his social skills) and/or 2) that he just survived an incredibly traumatic experience and is understandably withdrawn. neither of these are properly addressed and instead the implication is that nico is hiding himself bc he’s gay and everything will be solved if he accepts himself.

edit: i never actually explicitly stated this, but nico's queer coding and disability coding overlap, which is why this infantilization/ableism is important enough to highlight despite the conversation specifically being abt the queer aspect of it.

second retcon. percy…as i’ve said many times before, percy explicitly calls nico his friend in tlo.

this immediately makes hoo trying to act like they don’t know each other and were never close a retcon. they were friends, they saw each other frequently, nico made silly jokes w percy…and we’re ignoring all of this in hoo.

i've talked abt this previously (in response to tsats), but nico is the one putting distance between him and percy. percy reached out to nico repeatedly thru pjo.

when percy notices that nico excludes himself, percy finds a private place to talk to nico and assures him that percy wants him around and offers solutions to his discomfort (this is not percy’s responsibility. percy is a child). when nico insists that he won’t stay, percy sees it from nico’s perspective and, instead of forcing nico to do something against his will that may totally backfire, says “i hope we don’t have to be enemies,” leaving room for nico to decide whether he’s willing to be friends.

bc percy understands the root of nico’s issue (that no matter the accommodations made at camp, there’s always going to be the implicit message that he doesn’t belong there), he addresses it and uses his wish to make sure that nico has a home at camp.

and when nico tries to prove he’s useful, percy proves he would’ve invited him in whether nico was or not. bc he thinks nico deserves to be a kid.

“i wonder if [nico] had ever had a birthday party,” percy thinks at his own birthday party where he didn’t invite his friends bc he felt it was too much of an inconvenience, in a story where he never had friends prior to these ppl he didn’t invite, and the only person he had for twelve years of his life was his own mother. and percy uses his own loneliness to empathize w how lonely nico is.

percy is not some distant figure nico is idolizing. he's a kid trying his best to care for another kid at a time where no one else did, while experiencing his own trauma. all of their hang-ups exist bc of that.

going back to their relationship in hoo, even trying to make percy uncomfortable w nico’s powers (and therefore not wanting to associate w nico) doesn’t work bc percy has gone on record and said he thinks some of nico’s powers are cool and has neutral responses to others, not to mention percy is also a big three kid who makes other ppl wary (i could write a whole meta on how what percy finds disturbing w nico’s powers is directly tied to what percy finds disturbing w his own powers, but i’ll restrain myself. please clap).

and if that wasn’t enough, the entire reason percy stood up to hera in botl is bc she was willing to let nico die specifically bc he doesn't fit in bc of those powers.

this plotline was tired before it even began.

you could argue that all of this changed w nico’s betrayal in tlo. but then why didn’t percy tell anybody when it happened in tlo (annabeth would’ve reacted to it if he had)? why did percy trust nico to come when he called? why didn’t any of percy’s animosity come out afterwards at camp? and in the throne room, percy didn’t have to single nico out w his wish. he didn’t have to watch nico to make sure he was settling in. but he did. and because he did, any writing that suggests percy doesn't trust or care abt nico bc of that is bad writing. maybe rick forgot this, but u can be angry w and hurt by the ppl you love and still love them.

even the justification that nico lied in son isn’t good enough to completely change their relationship, bc it’s pretty clear why nico lied and percy says he can’t stay angry at nico when they rescue him, and let me remind u, anger is a core part of percy's character. while nico lying might be enough for characters like leo and jason, who have no rapport w him, to doubt him, it’s not enough for percy. and why are we so obsessed w dismantling percy and nico’s friendship anyway? why is that necessary to the story? like i said before, ppl can have friends without coming out. isolating the only queer character (at the time) isn’t necessary.

this conflict doesn’t even work in hoo bc their distance is still one-sided…

when did percy not give nico a second chance in hoo? the only times they’ve interacted prior to this was when percy remembered nico in son and tried to talk to him and then when they saved his life. and then nico brushes off percy's gratitude and tells him to back off. this is not nico idolizing percy who doesn't care abt him. this is percy reaching out and yet again nico putting distance between them.

and, obviously, this doesn’t work at all w pjo when the entirety of botl exists, you know, where percy chose to trust and protect nico and then went out of his way to make sure nico knew percy held none of nico’s anger against him. it’d be one thing if nico was supposed to be wrong, but considering how there’s an entire arc in hoo abt jason being the first person to trust nico, and tsats seriously acts like percy only ever talked to nico when he needed something, it’s safe to say this comes from a place of stupidity.

ok. this sections getting long, so i moved the it was stupid to have percy give jason a reason to doubt nico section to a new post. but know that i'm aware and i think it's stupid.

back to the point of all these retcons w percy. there's nothing in hoo that necessitates changing percy and nico's relationship from pjo. while percy in hoo is never cruel to nico, they act like strangers for some reason. so, it's changed for no reason and it's written poorly.

sigh. and then all of chb is retconned (or recycled if you’re feeling generous).

the ppl at camp accept him while his cabin gets built. pretty nice. then in boo nico reveals they got tired of him after a week–which is still summer–despite there being an influx of kids from all descents, some of whom would be weird or uncomfortable or whatever this justification is. that’s not even mentioning how percy’s own experiences (remember how he was ostracized…multiple times…) should have made them more accepting of nico.

why…was this necessary at all…? especially when u have an entirely different camp that treats nico as weird bc they didn’t have that good experience w him? this is really what gets me. if rick wanted to be lazy and repeat nico’s arc, he could’ve done so without retconning things.

for example, with the seven, leo, piper, jason, and maybe annabeth (she doesn’t have much to say abt nico in pjo), i could understand having animosity towards nico, as well as camp jupiter, but retconning established relationships to make ur only (at the time) queer character isolated and miserable only to then have his coming out be violent and traumatic is. well. bad! especially when the person who is w him for that experience is not someone he has built any sort of camaraderie w. nico isn’t choosing to trust jason, he’s being forced to.

and the whole nico-needs-to-learn-to-trust-ppl plot doesn’t work anyway bc of rick’s inconsistencies.

jason has a moment much like frank where he doesn’t want to go anywhere w nico bc nico is so weird and scary. nico has every right to pull himself away from ppl who treat him like he’s got something contagious. and there’s more:

“since when does jason defend nico,” as in they have shit on nico before and jason has not, in the past, defended nico. as in nico had every reason to not trust jason prior to this bc everyone, including jason, were talking shit behind his back. why are we acting like nico is being unreasonable? oh no, y’all are talking behind my back…clearly it’s my fault bc i push everyone away and that has nothing to do w ur behavior or anything…yes this is good writing.

and we’re supposed to believe that jason (and reyna and hedge and will) is the first person to be kind/reach out to nico, but we have this scene from botl where percy comforted nico and gave him a piece of his childhood back:

and this is after percy cleared the air to make sure nico knew he didn’t hate him and offered to make accommodations for nico at camp and then respected and understood why nico wouldn’t want to. like,

woah, you’re telling me that a character reaches out to nico after a traumatic experience in an act of kindness and this helps nico grow as a person? and it happens multiple times?! yeah, apparently rick and fandom have completely forgotten abt this (also hazel exists???). they’re even phrased similarly! “maybe it’s time to take a risk and embrace something you’ve pushed away.” furthermore, they both support their point by helping nico, percy by inviting nico into his home to enjoy cake and ice cream, jason by drinking from the chalice. once more w feeling: nico has been loved the entire goddamn time!

i get what rick was trying to accomplish w the whole cupid scene concept. which is that it’s okay to be gay and that it can feel very “othering” to be gay. nico has to accept himself in order to make friends. that’s what this

and this

are trying to say, right, but this doesn’t work when you’ve blatantly retconned established relationships to have characters push nico away for his powers/parentage/whatever. nico’s struggle is not an internal issue that can be solved by accepting himself, it’s an external issue caused by how other ppl treat him for his powers/parentage (which he has never been shown to reject btw).

the thing is, the powers-as-queerness metaphor only works when you don’t have, you know, characters who aren’t queer going through similar ostracization. not only was percy ostracized at chb in tlt for his powers/parentage (very similar to nico!), percy has a moment in this same book where his powers terrify annabeth, and then piper in the next book, in which he, you know, lets himself almost die to poison bc he feels like he “deserved it” for using those powers. again, this is not queer-coding for percy (unless…?). moreover, like i said, nico doesn’t reject his powers, so the whole queer-coding w powers and needing to accept himself is already iffy (...rejecting powers...hold the fuck up…percy isn’t…unless…). even the out-of-time metaphor doesn’t work bc it’s something he shares w hazel, who is not canonically queer (unless…?!). so, already, we’re on shaky metaphorical ground. all of this could work, theoretically, if combined w strong writing, but combined w the retconning and inconsistencies, this plotline makes no cohesive sense.

we’re supposed to believe that nico is the one pushing everyone away while they are secretly super supportive while simultaneously being shown that everyone talks and thinks shit that affirms nico’s thoughts abt them that makes him want to pull away. and then in boo we completely ignore that these ppl have been pushing nico away and suddenly everyone (reyna, hedge, will, etc) is supportive.

pick a struggle!

also nico’s coming out scene in boo sucked (yeah this is the segue).

this is the culmination of nico’s arc in hoo. he’s finally accepted himself enough to speak the truth without pressure. we ruined percy and nico’s established relationship for this. and they don’t even have a conversation. then nico walks over to will bc percy, “regular guy” percy, is “not [his] type.” don’t look too deep into that.

so, how would i fix the cupid scene? well.

there were a million different ways to write a better arc for nico and earn that cupid scene. for example, rick could’ve stuck to a plotline.

the trust plotline could’ve been good. bc this exact thing is what causes the accidental kidnapping situation in tlo. nico doesn’t trust percy enough to tell him the truth and chooses to manipulate and lie to percy instead. this choice is what sets up their conflict bc percy views this as betrayal (something that’s important to a guy who’s fatal flaw is loyalty).

it’s also interesting bc nico does choose to trust ppl in hoo; he eats the pomegranate seeds despite not knowing that someone is coming for him, he just trusts that someone will (we’re ignoring what boo says abt nico’s tartarus experience bc fun fact! that is also retconned). and it pays off, bc not only does he get saved, we see hazel and percy even willing to challenge the other members of the seven to make sure he gets saved. so, it’s not a lesson he’s already learned, it’s a lesson he’s learning. but, going back to the main question here, would the cupid scene still be necessary? was being dragged into tartarus and almost dying not enough spectacle?

regardless, my biggest problem w the cupid scene in all of this is that it gives the impression that u have to come out in order to have ppl love u and trust u. a much better message to send is that the ppl who love u will love u before and after u come out. no isolation necessary.

#shows up over a month late w an essay-length response as to why nico’s arc in hoo sucked #are u not entertained?#also hi! just realized i never said that lol #nico #rr crit #hoo crit #disability #queerness #answered #min talks pjo

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

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Through Me Prequel - ii. the fool

Summary: Eddie and the Lady of the Lake, feat. advice from one Steve 'The King' Harrington.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader, eventual Steddie x fem!reader in the series

WC: 6.3k

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the second of three prequels centering on the three main characters. If you're up on your tarot know-how, you can glean some info from the banner, etc. 👀

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:

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“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Tuesday, July 2, 1985

Eddie meets you for the first time on a normal Tuesday evening.

Well, meets is a generous term for what transpires. He all but stumbles upon you as he’s leaving Reefer Rick’s, struck dumb at the sight of a woman walking fully clothed into the lake.

“Shit!”

He drops the lunchbox from his hand; the metal clanging against the rocks as it rolls to a stop on the shore. “Hey!” He yells, trying to get you to stop or at least turn around before doing something drastic.

Nothing.

Continuing to wade into the water, he has no choice to trail after you in an attempt to prevent a visit from the Hawkin’s P.D. and a coroner’s report.

Eddie Munson did not have time for this, not today. But he couldn’t very well just leave you here to your own devices. Which, judging by the water nearing your waist, were far from altruistic.

“Fucking hell,” he grouses, toeing off his sneakers and fumbling with his belt buckle.

You, mystery woman with an apparent death-wish, may be fine with soaking wet clothes but Eddie was not. Wet denim was simply not his jam— it was bad enough he’d have to wash his hair after this, but walking around in wet jeans, just asking for raw, chafed skin?

No, thank you.

His jeans and shirt joined the pile at the edge of the lake as he psyched himself up to dive in after you.

“You got this Munson,” he says to himself, clad in his boxers and shaking out his arms to rid himself of nervous energy. He keeps an eye on you, head and shoulders still above the water though you’ve waded farther from him now.

Bounces on the balls of his feet and cracks his knuckles. “S’just like riding a bike, muscle memory. No sweat.”

Because, yeah he could swim. But, my god, at what cost? Wasn’t worth the hassle in his humble (and correct) opinion.

Oh well.

The water is not at cold as he’d anticipated, but that’s probably due to the summer heat. He treads water, careful not to spook you. Eddie knows he’s not an athlete, he’s no King Steve, but figures that logically it’s easier to talk someone down who isn’t startled.

Eddie never gets the chance to find out.

Because one moment you’re a few feet away, head and shoulders above the surface of the water. Arms buoyant at your side, floating upon the dark blue of the lake. And in an instant you’re gone, leaving nothing but small wakes in your absence.

As if he dreamt you up.

He turns, checking that you aren’t somehow behind him. And sure enough, he is well and truly alone and briefly wonders if he’s made the whole thing up. Thinks that maybe sampling the product before a walk in the woods wasn’t the best idea.

A splash draws his attention to the center of the lake. Something causing the waters to surge, swirling in a way that can only be described as ominous. Eddie cocks his head in interest— curious, purely from an observational standpoint, of course.

An arm breeches the indigo water, sword held aloft. Fingers wrapped delicately to grasp, nestled beneath the pommel, the blade emitting a bright glow.

There’s no fucking way—

A second arm appears, scabbard in hand.

Then your head crests the waves, wet and glorious. Beads of water dripping down the full of your cheeks, mouth graced with a beatific smile. A shake of your head before you begin to swim toward the shore.

“It’s Eddie, right?”

A hum in the coming dark. Gooseflesh blooming on his skin at the sound of your voice. Far too distracted to notice the subtle buzz in the cage of his ribs.

He struggles to speak, a rarity for him. Nods instead, awe-struck. You sail just out of reach, swimming in a lazy backstroke, sword and scabbard still in hand.

“You make a habit of following strange women into bodies of water?”

“Just the pretty ones.”

He could kick himself. Open mouth, insert foot. Just about to give up and end it all when a bark of laughter slips from your throat.

“Doesn’t bode well for you.” You tip your head back in the water, hair fanning out like a halo.

Eddie wades a bit closer now, relieved that he’d misread the situation and intrigued as to how someone could swim to the middle of Lover’s Lake, dive down and swim for god knows how long, only to surface with an actual sword in hand.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Well.” You open your eyes taking him in, pale against the warm hues of fading summer light. Water sloshes as you return the sword to its scabbard, glow extinguished for now. “What if I lured you here under false pretenses?”

“Mmm.” He hums, crossing his arms against his chest, revealing a cluster of bats at his elbow and something else you can’t quite make out further up. “You mean you weren’t trying to drown yourself in Lover’s Lake?”

Pulling your bottom lip between, you huff a laugh. “Shit, is that what it looked like? Yikes.”

Feet grazing the beginning of the shoreline, you reorient yourself and stand. Water cascading from your form.

Eddie gulps, audibly, as it all appears to him in slow motion. Beads of water trail down your thighs, the deep blue denim of your daisy dukes doing fuck-all to contain the globes of your ass. And it only gets worse for him from there.

Water continues to drip from your top, washed one too many times and threadbare. He can see the soft skin of your stomach and the flared curve of your hips. The white of your bra a beacon in the fading light, perfectly cupping the swell of your breasts. And, oh god— is that lace?

His dick jumps at the thought.

You, of course, are oblivious to Eddie’s state. Slotting the scabbard through a belt loop of your shorts, you turn, hair whipping wetly against your back, hands at your hips, and ask.

“You coming, or what?”

It takes him a minute to snap out of it. Muttering something under his breath (“Pretty sure I just did, thanks.”) before saying, “Uh, yeah. Just gimme a second.”

Eddie cannot believe he is at Steve Harrington’s house right now, and it's not to deal party favors.

But when you’d asked if he minded a stop back at the place you’re crashing at, he wasn’t about to refuse. Not when he got to ogle your legs as they worked the manual floor shift— calf muscle flexing and ankle rocking forward, thighs slightly damp from your dip in Lover’s Lake.

He swallows and shakes himself from his reverie.

You trot upstairs as toss over your shoulder, “Be just a sec!” Leaving Eddie to his own devices in the Harrington house.

He tentatively steps into the living room— two fire places, seems a bit much, but whatever— and spies a note on the sideboard underneath the cordless phone.

“So,” he asks over burgers later at the diner. “How do you know Harrington?”

And, to your credit, you don’t balk. In fact, you don’t even blink before tearing into your dinner. After you’d changed back at Steve’s place, you offered to take Eddie out to dinner:

“As a thank you,” You said, shoving your feet into a pair of boots. “Y’know, for checking on me at the lake.”

“No need,” He replied, mentally cataloging any potential blackmail he could use on Harrington. But, damn him, there were no incriminating childhood photos to be found.

There were no photos, period.

“C’mon, can’t my knight in shining armor go unrewarded, can I?”

He barely repressed a shudder at that, relishing in how raspy and low your voice had gotten.

“I could be persuaded…”

Which is how the pair of you wound up at the diner, chowing down on burgers and fries with a bit a flirty banter thrown in.

“Well Rhett,” You drawl in a near perfect imitation of Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara, “I suppose you could call him a gentleman caller.”

Eddie only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.

You scrunch up your nose in laughter, “We’re buddies, he’s just letting me crash with him when I’m in town.”

“Regular ne'er do well, are you?”

A snort.

“Gee, thanks.” You slurp from your soda, “Nah, just get called away for work a lot.”

He nods amicably, questions answered for the moment. You take another bite and watch him do the same. Casually, you shake the ketchup bottle and squirt out a few dollops on to the wax paper of your basket. Then, you add a few globs of mayonnaise and mix them together with a fry before popping it into your mouth.

Immediately, Eddie balks with a cough and sputter. You start laughing so hard you drop the few fries in your hand all over the table. “I can’t do it.” He groans, waving to your dip of choice, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”

“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, with a grin and signal for the check.

Rolling up to Forest Hills, you eye Eddie as he pinches his nose. He has feel the worst headache of his life coming on and the oddest trickle in his nose.

He leans his head back against the headrest and you see the trickle of blood making its way toward his lips.

“Hey, lean forward not back.”

“What?”

A sigh. You keep one hand on the wheel and wind the other behind him to press on his upper back, “You lean forward for a bloody nose dude, not back.” A slight push as you drive through the trailer park. “Breathe through your mouth and spit out any blood.”

“I’m not gonna spit blood in your car!”

“She’s seen much worse, trust me.” After checking that Eddie is with the program— he valiantly rolls down the window and elects to spit out of the car instead— you take your hand back and keep an eye out for his place.

He points it out soon enough and the pair of you hustle into the trailer before the sky cracks open with a roll of thunder and a deluge of rain. Grabbing the sword from your backseat, you meet him on the porch as he fumbles with his keys.

Ushering him inside, you toss the relic onto the sofa and beeline for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Finding an old bottle of ibuprofen, you pop the top and quickly fill a glass with water.

“Ed?” You call out, not sure if he fell into a heap on the sofa or wandered elsewhere.

“Bedroom.”

Following the sound of his voice, nasally from pinching his nose, you round the corner and find him sitting on his bed. The bleeding from his nose seemed to dissipate, and you handed him the water and four pills.

“If your head isn’t better, take another dose of four pills in eight or so hours.”

He nods and swallows the pills with a slug of water before collapsing back on the bed with a groan. His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. And you hate to leave him like this, you really do, but Salvation, Iowa is a calling.

“I’m sorry Eddie, but I’ve gotta go to work. Are you gonna be okay? Is there someone—”

“Wayne, my uncle. He’s at the plant, but he’ll be back tonight.” He breathes out, “Go, go, I’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, you stand back upright and begin to untie his shoes. “It’s bad enough you’re gonna pass out in your jeans, over my dead body are you sleeping with shoes on.”

“Okay boss, whatever you say,” He croaks out.

“Can I leave something here for safe-keeping?” You ask, grabbing a nearby blanket to toss over him.

Eddie cracks an eye open, “Your sword?”

With a smile, you tap the side of your nose with a finger and point at him. “Got it in one, my man.”

He grins at that, “Sure girly, I’ll keep your sword and sheath.”

“Thanks,” You say with a chuckle. “See you later alligator.”

Eddie gives you a half-assed wave, “In a while crocodile.”

Monday, August 19, 1985

Eddie’s got a battered notebook on one knee and an ashtray balanced precariously on the other, clad in, wait for it— Garfield boxers that have seen better days. You’d nearly seen his dick twice and hadn’t even been there for half an hour.

“So what’s your deal?” Eddie asks from his position on the couch.

You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with cleaning your knives because the heat crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.

Returning to Hawkins after a few weeks working on the coast— wailing women, wendigos, and shifters, oh my— you’d pulled up at Eddie and Wayne’s trailer certainly looking a bit worse for wear. So, after a shower and saying so-long to Wayne as he left for work, out of a lack for anything better to do you began to clean your knives. Which were disgusting, covered in dried, caked on blood and god knows what else.

“What do you mean?” You ask back from the sink, running warm water over your hunting knife, mindful not to catch the gut hook with your fingers— wouldn’t want to be put in a position to explain why your own blood was a rather unusual color and viscosity.

Eddie takes a sip from a lukewarm beer and pulls a face. “You know what I mean,” He says, rising from the couch. You squirt some dish soap into your hand begin to work it onto the blade.

“You leave for work, are gone, for like over a month,” He sets the empty can on the counter. You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he leans next to you, and exhales. “You call from Oregon, California, and Colorado but never say what it is you’re up to,” Eddie cocks his head in your direction, inquisitive, “Or when you’ll be back. And then you roll up tonight with no notice looking like hell warmed over.”

“You forgot something.”

“Yeah? Do tell.”

So, you groan, because he’s hounding you and after a month and some change it’s bound to happen.

“First of all, my gig isn't as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, scratching your nail against a particularly stubborn glot of viscera, finding the task a distraction under his persistent gaze. “And secondly, you forgot that I left a sword with you.”

“Right,” He laughs, “How could I forget that?”

“It’s, um,” You cut the water and let the blade soak, watching as it floats lazily to the bottom of the sink. “Well, y’know the Arthurian legends and stuff. The Round Table and all of that?”

“Uh, sure.”

“So,” You sigh, a knot of tension working its way to the base of your skull, and breathe out in a rush, "The sword shoved into the back of your closet is kindofExcalibur?”

Eddie, silent as the grave, stretches to open the topmost cabinet above the sink. You watch with idle curiosity, noting how the hem of his shirt rides up to expose his stomach. Before you can get distracted by the whisper of hair trailing beneath the band his boxers, he returns with a handle of whiskey.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need something stronger for this explanation.”

But you tell him, truthfully and genuinely. That you’re a kind of hunter of sorts, for lack of a more apt term, dealing predominantly with the supernatural and otherworldly, an exorcist when needed, and master of the hidden arts—

(“Like, magic?”

“Sure.”

“It’s real?!

“Uh, in a sense.”)

—You’re a lone wolf. The last of your kind. And, as a result, your work takes you all over the world with little to no notice. A nomadic existence is normal for you, or, at least, it was until passing through Hawkins back in ‘83. Something or someone kept drawing you back whenever you had the time.

By the time you're finished with this rambling explanation, Eddie's had a few drinks.

Well, maybe more than a few.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Eddie whispers. He sets his glass down on the formica table, feet kicked up on the chair between you. “How’re you not as drunk as me right now? You’re not even tipsy!”

You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of his lament and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Eddie has his head in his hands and there are tears coming out of his eyes from laughing at your predicament.

Turns out, you didn’t have the heart to tell Eddie that the only thing that could get you remotely sloshed is rosewater.

Saturday, September 21, 1985

Three blinks on the clock when he’s pulled from his bed and dragged into the living room. Eddie had been given roughly thirty seconds to pull his pants on and sit on the sofa before Harrington nearly kicked down the door. There are a million words a minute being thrown around and he’s vaguely aware of a knife being strapped onto your ankle.

“St-stop!" He sputters, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "Constantine! Cut it out!”

“Angel…” Steve warns, taking the blade from you. You’re already geared up, raring to go.

You relent with a pout, walking across the room to lean against the far wall, dressed in a cropped Hawkins Athletics shirt and sweats as you watch Eddie fumble stupidly, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His elbow knocks into the table, ankle twists when he tries to stand up. It’s a nightmare and Eddie’s about to burst into tears.

“—so how’s that sound?” You point to the table with yet another knife (where did you get that?), papers scattered about as if he’s caught anything you’ve been saying. Eddie’s still chasing off sheep in his brain. “We can swing in tonight, grab the intel, take out hostil—” his eyes shut.

“Babe,” Eddie sighs, using a common pet name to address you. He hopes it’ll get you to let him off the hook, “It’s… so late. Early? Steve is already up. I wanna go back to bed.”

“But there’s a—” He can’t keep up. The vocabulary is beyond his comprehension when he’s on the verge of curling up into the fetal position under the table. You’re spewing words like the spear of destiny and reconnaissance, but he swears you’ve just said take out hostiles, too.

At this point, he’s about to snap—the despair churning into rage. It’s not his fault; he’s a mess in the mornings. “It is three in the goddamn a.m. I need at least six more hours before I can function. Can someone please explain to me, in tiny words, why I’m being accosted in my own home?”

There’s a beat of silence before Steve pipes up, prying the latest knife you’ve procured from your fingers.

“She wants to go with you.” He deadpans. “Wants to make out with you in the impala. Wants to touch your butt. Wants to fuck your brains out.”

A grin stretches across his face while you and Eddie look on, shocked. For the first time in ten minutes, Eddie’s eyes are wide open while yours have shut tightly, clenched like you’re trying to will the moment away.

“Small enough words? I can go smaller.”

“W-what…”

“She. Likes. You.” He punctuates with claps.

“Steve!”

“But you— and her— How—?”

“Don’t think about it too much.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “We try not to.”

Eddie whips around to stare at you, flinching at his questioning mouth. Steve cackles and cracks his knuckles, whistling about how his work here is done and makes his exit, stage right, kissing you loudly on the mouth as he goes. Left alone now, you bashfully hide behind your hands as Eddie blinks at you owlishly. “S-sorry about… that.”

Wide awake and practically on fire with the slew of information, Eddie feels strangely refreshed. A grin matching Steve’s earlier one makes its way over his lips as he swings his arms and steps until he’s next to you. “Sugar…” He croons, “If you wanted to touch my butt, all you had to do was ask.”

He wiggles his fingers.

“Honestly, babe? I’ve been waiting for you to touch my butt for months.”

The only way you can convince Eddie go is by having Steve tag along. So, you’d rolled up to the dilapidated barn, and he wasn’t sure exactly how many weapons you’d strapped to yourself, just knew that it was a lot and he was incredibly turned on by it.

Given strict instructions by you to stay out of sight with a wink directed at Steve, you’d kissed both of them goodbye and walked inside. Not five minutes later, Steve was climbing out of the front seat with a bat and popping open the trunk.

“Dude,” Eddie hissed, “She said to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mumbles, rifling through the chaos of the trunk. “Stay out of sight, which is do-able. We’ll just sneak up to the loft…”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and thinks he can’t be serious.

“Ah, gotcha!”

The trunk closes with a soft thud and the next thing Eddie knows, Steve’s opened his door and hauled him out of the car. Setting him back on his feet, Steve smooths the creases from where he’d grabbed Eddie’s shirt.

“Okay Munson,” He says, eyes glancing toward the barn. “We’re going to head in there, slow and stealthy,” Hands him a bat with nails ran through it. “Use this if things get dicey.”

He grips the bat. “What about you?”

Steve produces what can only be described as a heavily modified shotgun from behind his back. There is an honest to god crucifix on it, and a flashlight. Eddie struggles to pick his jaw off of the ground.

Casually, he loads the slugs into the rotating cylinder. Deeming it a job well done, Steve doesn’t even wait for Eddie as he walks toward the ladder leading to the hayloft.

“What even is that thing?” He asks once he’s caught up to Steve, who’s currently making his way up the ladder.

“The Holy Shotgun? S’what it looks like Munson.”

Eddie can only shake his head and climb up after Steve.

He could scream.

Steve is seemingly unfazed.

This thing— a skinwalker, apparently, sneers and growls into your ear— a threat that makes your teeth gnash. He squeezes your throat between his forearm and his shoulder.

“Take one more step and I gut her like a fish.”

Ah shit.

They’d been found out, a couple of walkers lurking in the rafters attacked just as they’d ascended the ladder. So much for slow and stealthy, the second his feet hit the floor Eddie was swinging that bat like his life depended on it. And Steve actually had to fire that monstrosity of a shotgun, which was… well, hot, to be fair.

But you’d been distracted from the noise and had wound up disarmed by the skinwalker just below them.

Steve takes the step. Eddie’s eyes are about to pop out of his head when the hand not clasped on you lands the silver glint of a blade poised at your throat.

“Fuck! Don’t!”

“Go ahead.” Steve urges impassively, ignoring Eddie’s pleas. “Do it.”

Eddie doesn’t know because he’s still new to this. Because he hasn’t been with you for long. Hasn’t seen you close up in a fight yet.

He’s only seen the sweetness, only a tiny spark of a flame behind closed doors when you sidle up alongside him on movie nights with a shared blanket and chatter vehemently over the more objectionable parts of decapitation.

“There’s no way! Munson, are you seein’ this shit?” As you toss another handful of popcorn into your mouth, half of it ends up on your chest. “Severing the carotid artery? There’s way more fuckin’ blood than that!

Steve knows the bite and the bark. He knows the claws and the flashing teeth. So he steps again, his cheek dripping a splash of blood from one of the dead walkers. In the blink of an eye, you pluck the blade from your opponent's grasp and slide it home on the unsuspecting walker, and the dagger retracts, giving him a full showing of how it rips from the soft palate of your enemy.

Poor idiot, Steve thinks. Never stood a chance.

Eddie’s gasp breaks the silence, and the thud of the corpse follows.

“S-sweetheart?” He murmurs when you peer up at him. “Y-you okay?”

They descend the ladder quickly, leaving the bodies where they fell.

A grin. Wicked and all teeth— one he’s never seen. Steve slips his arm around your waist, pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, smudging the red from his face to yours.

Eddie’s own blood rushes straight down. Nervous. Aroused.

“She look okay?” Steve smirks. “‘Bout time you find out.”

You approach cautiously, not wanting to spook him. Drink in his surprised face when you rub your thigh over his groin where he grows. “Hey, Ed. Didn’t mean to keep you in the dark… just didn’t want to scare you away.”

Then, you push his head back into the wall, lick the blood out of your mouth and press into him with your whole body.

Eddie moans— quivering, whimpering.

He melts like butter against your lips.

Steve purrs. Poor guy, he smiles fondly, ravenously. Eddie never stood a chance.

November, 1985

After that, the tension melted away between the three of you, and things went back to normal.

Well, as normal as you could get when hunting things that go bump in the night.

As he’d come to expect, your work took you all over the place with little to no notice. A phone call would come through, either at his place or Steve’s, and you’d be off again, shouldering a worn bag and dashing off into the night.

It was an adjustment, both your penchant for abrupt exits and Eddie finding himself spending more time with the former King of Hawkins High.

When you weren’t crashing at Forest Hills, it was Loch Nora. Not that Eddie minded, per se, the Harrington’s had an abundance of space and seemingly no cares about whatever their only son got up to on his own.

But he couldn’t bring himself to coexist with Steve in your absence, it wasn’t like the two of them were exactly friends, shared Hellfire gremlins aside. So, like clockwork, as the sound of the impala’s engine faded into the distance, Eddie would grab his things and head home.

Which is how you found him on a bright autumn morning, sleeping away the day back at Forest Hills. You’d let yourself in with the spare key and tiptoed back to his bedroom.

Eddie, for all his high cheekbones and Raphaelite curls, is a complete disaster artist when it comes to sleep. Starfishes out so his lanky frame takes up each corner of the bed, tosses, turns, and is liable to kick on occasion.

Good thing bony elbows and knees aren’t a detriment to you.

The warm autumn sun lazes through the blinds as it pleases, shafts of light illuminating his exposed chest, dancing along his rib cage as it rises and falls with his breaths. Leaning on the doorjamb, you let yourself take it all in— the messy room, haphazardly “organized” books and records, bed clothes rucked down to his hips, a lone leg kicked out from beneath them, his foot grazing the floor as he sleeps.

Stepping further into the room, you quietly close the door and toe off your boots. The articles of clothing drop with each step you take— jacket landing in a thud by the closet, pants falling in a heap by the desk. Down to your shirt, underwear, and socks, you sidle under the covers alongside him, luxuriating in the heat that radiates from him.

Curling against his back, you rub your face against his shoulder blade, nose grazing against the fine hairs there. In sleep, he recognizes your presence, a deep contented sigh tumbling from his partially open mouth, body relaxing against yours.

A cold hand skirts down his torso, nudging him awake before it settles at his hip. Groggily, Eddie’s head turns toward you with a hum. Cracks one eye open in interest, his hand running down the back of your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

“Cold?”

At the rumble of his voice, that low rasp he gets just after waking, sent a ripple through you, a thrumming whirl along your skin and a surge of heat that pooled in your gut.

A nod against his back, your chilled hand curling at his hip.

He turns in your grasp with an, “Alright, c’mere, sugar.” Calloused fingers hiking your leg up and over his hip, drawing your chest to his at the movement. Your hand settles at his ribs, fingers ghosting along the notches of bone.

“Better?”

Head settling into his chest, you nod, desperate to eek out each ray of heat you could. Breathing in the familiar aroma of coffee, weed, and cigarettes cut through with a crisp note of soap and skin. As you lose yourself to comfort and your eyes begin to drift shut, Eddie cradles the nape of your neck, his thumb rubbing idly against the base of your skull.

It’s not often he gets to see you like this, relaxed and languid like a cat seeking out the sun. It’s even less often he gets to have you free of responsibility and obligation. And it’s a rare occurrence indeed to have you to himself.

“But you— and her— How—?”

“Don’t think about it too much… We try not to.”

And well, Eddie had done just that.

Up to this point, it had been kisses on cheeks, looped pinkies, clasped hands, a frenzied make out here and there, flimsy cotton giving way to the prodding of ring-clad fingers, breaths falling in percussive puffs from a spit-slick mouth, the furrow of your brow as you fell apart beautifully for him.

Eddie is well-aware he’s not the only horse in your stable, but that’s a conversation for another time. Right now, he is fully aware that you are blissfully pliant in his bed and his blood is steadily rushing south.

Nudges you towards consciousness by peppering kisses along your face—eyelids, cheeks, and nose while skillfully skirting past your lips to graze against the shell of your ear, “Missed you, angel.”

A small smile pulls at your lips as you open your eyes. “Missed you too, babe.”

His fingers traced your collarbones through the threadbare fabric of your shirt, caressing the dips and hollows. Arching toward him, your lips nearly brush, barely a breath apart. A faint sigh falls from your mouth as Eddie drags his lips against yours, kissing you so delicately your toes curled.

Eddie turns and lays you out beneath him. His fingers lace with yours as he dips down to kiss the breath from your lungs, languorous and endless. A delighted spark zips up your spine, a heady warmth enveloping your limbs. For there are few things in life that feel better than lying under a devoted lover.

As a general rule, he didn’t devote himself to much. Easier to cut and run with fewer strings attached, a thing learned time and again in his life. But that doesn’t diminish his desire to do so, at least, not when it came to you. And if he failed to notice the wisp of crimson thread knotting against his finger and looping him to yours (and subsequently Steve’s), who can blame him?

Stranger things happen every day.

Finally, Eddie drew his mouth away from yours, pupils so blown his eyes were nearly black. He slowly traces the swell of your breasts with a fingertip. His hips shift against your own in a slow grind. Buries his nose in your hair, breathing you in deeply as his fingers continue to wander down.

There’s a few beats of silence— heavy breaths and shuddering gasps as he blows a cool breath against the column of your throat. A ghosting of lips against your own, “G’na let me take care of you?”

You swallow thickly, “Uh huh.”

Fingers slip against damp heat, a soft curse escaping lips, a bruising kiss, an apt tongue. A canting of hips as clothes are shed, fervent and impatient hands caressing in the warmth of the autumn sun. Sweet nothings whispered against exposed skin: c’mon baby, feel good angel?

His voice vibrates through your chest, husky and low, in between sponged kisses along your throat and jaw. Lewd wet noises punctuated with bitten curses, groans, and whines of, “Eddie— Please, I—“

A wicked smile settles along his lips as he works you through it, fingers urging you toward the precipice. Molten lava swoops and pools low in your abdomen with each press and thrust of his hand. The sheer heat of it is near blinding.

“Need you,” You plead, grinding up against him, “I’m burning up.”

He bites back a groan in favor of crushing his lips against your own. His tongue slides against your own sweet and heavy with promise into the cavern of your mouth.

“S’okay, I’ve got you.” His free hand snakes along the column of your spine, freeing you from your shirt as a moan is pulled from you. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” He whispers pulling back to look at you. You whimper in response, too far gone to process the compliment.

The pair of you are entwined like vines, his hand palms against the base of your spine. Your hand winds its way into his hair, gripping for purchase. His eyes fall shut with a moan as you slot your lips against his.

You rock up into him as you briefly part to toss the shirt elsewhere. The bra comes off swiftly in the effort to get your hot little hands back on him. Bumbling through a mantle of heat, as if you’re cursed by it. Burning away at the core.

Jesus wept– Eddie’s already slick with precome and throbbing with need. You pump him once and feel his groan rattle through your chest. Pulling your mouth from his, you stick two fingers in and sluice them up with spit, “Need to feel you,” You whine with a lingering kiss and a slow drag of your fist around his cock.

At this point, you honestly might explode.

Salvation comes in the form of a ragged thrust and choked gasp.

Eddie moans at your touch, hands dragging down his chest, and bites his lip, flicks his tongue over his teeth, and swallows thickly. You’re so hot. And tight. And wet. Tries to lessen his grip at your hips because it feels like he could honestly break you— holy hell— but soon enough he bottoms out in spectacular fashion.

Coming back to himself, he pulls back so that his cockhead catches inside your cunt. But before he can even catch his breath, you cant your hips up, lock your legs at the small of his back to pull him back in and he nearly loses his damn mind.

He’s never felt something so perfect before. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through punching the air from his lungs. And all he can do is ride it out— soft rolls of your hips against his quick fast bucks. Soft mewls and stuttering breaths filling the dappled sunlit room.

He repeats your name, like a penitent at prayer.

Your hands are everywhere. On his chest, his stomach, fingers hooking into his open mouth. And it is divine. His cock is entirely drenched in you and he swears he could come just like this, with you open and gasping beneath him.

Eddie memorizes the cherry wet of your mouth, the furrow of your brow, eyes rolling back and lost to pleasure. You’re a fucking vision, one that he’d be happy to supplicate himself to for the rest of his days. Rising up, his mouth finds your shoulder and bites at the glistening skin there. Eddie’s grip is tight at the nape of your neck, your entire body folded against him and pulled taut like a bowstring.

He kisses you desperately, tongue surfing into your mouth like an inferno. Shuddering against him, you’re startled as he walks his fingers closer and closer to the wet heat between your legs. “Come for me angel,” He purrs just as his thumb presses against your clit.

The tether inside of you snaps as you kiss him stupid— a blaze of white light. The inferno continues to rage as you let out a strangled pant, “Eddie.”

“There it is,” He bites against your jaw, “…Yes.”

"Fuck.” You blink the spots from your vision. God. Your entire body quakes.

Frantic circles against your clit and a few more sloppy thrusts, a demand of “Gimme all of it.”

He slams into you once more before the inevitable descent, your eyes screwing shut as you try to remember how to breathe. And it’s all Eddie can do to lick your jaw, push his tongue into your mouth, and work you through it.

An ephemeral, throbbing sensation falls from you. Slides right out to soak his thighs as he chokes on his own breath from the way you arch up and into him, your perfect tits pressing against his chest while your walls seize him like a vice.

When Eddie comes it's with an invocation of your name chased by an errant fuck or yesyesyes. It shatters him entirely, fueled solely by the desire to dive deep and spill into you. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, mouth open and gasping against damp skin.

And just like that, everything feels brand new. The world has sloughed from your shoulders and it's pure bliss in the comedown.

The whisper fate pulls taut— a nearly indiscernible thread of crimson looped for three.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #fic: through me #stranger things fanfic #constantine!au #Spotify

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bunysliper · 1 year

Text

Castle Ficlet: Troublemakers (Lightning Flashes) 1/1

Troublemakers (A Lightning Flashes ficlet)

"Well, aren't the two of you just adorable?"

Normally, she would blush and tug herself away from Rick at the tease, but she doesn't this time. There's no reason to hide anymore, not from Martha, not even from herself.

They're new to this, at least in some ways. In others, though, it's like they've been doing this forever.

"Mother," Rick whines. There's no bite behind it, though. Just good natured childish embarrassment. And Rick can always use a little bit of embarrassment. It keeps him honest, humble even.

"What?" Martha scoffs. "I'm simply saying that the two of you are delightful as a couple and I am so glad you finally got your heads out of your a-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Rick says quickly, glancing down at the baby sprawled across their laps. Alexis is finally settling down, which means her eagle ears are definitely listening to everything they're saying. The last thing they need is for her to parrot what she hears.

Though, Kate muses, it would be nice to be able to blame someone other than herself for Alexis learning a new curse word. The last one had been a little bit mortifying - less so because of the word itself and more because of when the kid had decided to demonstrate her new favorite four letters; Kate's fairly sure they'll be allowed back in the restaurant, but she's going to wait a little longer to be sure.

Martha holds up her hands. "Oh, relax, Richard. I'm not going to corrupt your one year old. Especially not by giving you and Katherine a compliment."

Kate snickers at that, pressing her cheek to her fiance's shoulder. It is still hard to believe that they made it here, after so many years, so much hiding from each other, all the back and forth. It's nice, though. So nice.

And the getting married part isn't so bad, either.

"Thank you, Martha," she says, brushing a hand over Alexis's back. They need to put her to bed soon, but they're all so comfortable the way they are. "We appreciate that, even if Rick is bad at admitting it."

Her fiance feigns offense.

"Then say thank you, Ricky, and we can enjoy the rest of our evening in peace." She makes a show of rolling her eyes, winking at Martha playfully.

Rick's mother grins, lifting her glass in response.

"Traitor."

Kate laughs, careful not to startle Alexis. The girl squirms, rolling closer to her belly and sighing.

"I'm sorry, honey," she murmurs. "Daddy's causing trouble again."

Rick scoffs, ducking his head to kiss Alexis's hair. "Yeah, because your mommy is so much better," he says, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "She's never caused a bit of trouble in her life."

Her heart stutters in her chest. It's not the first time the name - title? Honorific? - has been directed toward her, but somehow it feels different than when it's said in the middle of the night or when it comes from Alexis's lips. It's never been said in front of others, not even at Alexis's birthday, when the girl had been happily babbling away about anything under the sun.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kate swallows hard. She reaches out for her drink, curling her fingers around the curve of her wine glass and bringing the rim to her lips.

"Nope," she says a moment later, allowing the air to escape her lungs. "Mommy's never done a thing wrong ever. She doesn't know a thing about making trouble."

She shifts, pulling Alexis closer.

"You won't either, will you, Alexis?"

The baby snuggles closer. She's oblivious to the conversation around her, to the warmth she's providing.

"Yeah," Kate exhales, bringing Alexis's fingers to her lips. "S'what I thought."

"With the two of you for parents? I will believe that when I see it," Martha chuckles, taking another sip of her wine.

Kate grins, cuddling Alexis and sinking deeper into Rick's arms. Let them be adorable troublemakers tonight; they've earned it.

#Fluffy Friday #Caskett #Caskett Fanfic #Castle Fanfic #Castle Fanfiction #My Fanfic #Lightning Flashes #Castle AU Fic

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months

Note

frat boy Steve has a funnel because some of his housemates like chugging beer that way.

he notices his new plug Eddie goes a little stupid the first time he gets it out...

Okay, keeping in mind that I have no knowledge of frats beyond what I’ve seen on TV and movies… (Lol, and I had to ask what plug meant, but shhhhh no I didn’t.)

Being allowed to enter frat president Steve’s room for the first time felt like winning the lottery, and that’s never entirely worn off. Even now that he’s been there often enough that he can close his eyes and picture the room, Eddie’s heart rate always picks up a little bit whenever he enters.

He notices immediately when he spots the new thing, and stupidly blurts out, “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Steve cranes his neck to see what Eddie’s looking at. “Oh, that. Some of the guys wanted a funnel for chugging beer, so I got one. Kind of keeping it on the back burner until someone brings it up again, though… I really don’t trust Billy or Tommy not to land their asses in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Bad look for the whole frat.”

“Right,” Eddie says with a forced laugh, “you’ve gotta prove your worthiness to earn The Funnel.”

After selling Steve all the weed and party favors he wants at the usual pretty boy discount (not that Steve knows about that), Eddie goes home and contemplates The Funnel. He packs a bowl, sucking huge lungfuls of smoke from his bong like it’s something else, and… okay, yeah, he wants to earn it. Doesn’t have to be beer—actually, he would kind of prefer if it’s not, would want to stay fully present and aware the whole time while Steve fills him up.

So Eddie gets high off his ass (he doesn’t need to be fully present now, because Steve isn’t here) and drinks all the Mt Dew in his fridge, imagining with every gulp that it’s Steve pouring the fizzy liquid down his throat. A hand on his belly to feel himself expand. He’s not ripped or anything but he’s on the skinner side, so when the bloat starts to hit it’s noticeable; he whimpers a little when he has to unbutton his jeans to give himself more room. Drinks as much as he can but just knows that Steve would be able to coax more into him. Gets uncomfortable in a way that scratches an itch he usually doesn’t even notice, squirming and burping and whining for the perfect unattainable guy who’d never go for someone like him and is probably straight anyway.

He feels a little weird after he comes and has cleaned himself up, and not because all that pop is still sloshing around in his belly whenever he moves. But… he can still be normal around Steve, right? Whatever, he’ll make it work. His livelihood kind of depends on being able to compartmentalize.

Steve hasn’t been buying from Eddie all that long—a couple months, since the frat’s previous connection, Reefer Rick, got arrested—but he likes him. Likes his mischievous grins and the funny voices he often slips into for emphasis when they’re talking about things besides business. They have nothing in common, from family structure and socioeconomic class to their fundamentally clashing jock vs nerd interests, so Steve hasn’t been able to figure out an excuse to interact with him outside of transactions before a party… Maybe he’s nudged the number of parties the frat hosts up a bit for that reason. It’s not a big deal.

Recently Eddie has been… strange. And that’s saying something for a guy whose nickname is The Freak. There’s something new in his eyes when he looks at Steve, though Steve can’t figure out what it is. He stands closer, grins wider, and that theatrical streak toes more and more over then line into is he flirting with me territory.

Which, you know, Steve wouldn’t mind. He’s in college now, old enough and confident enough in his social circles that he’d feel okay with coming out as bisexual to his friends. (Not his parents, no way, not while they’re paying his tuition and still think he’s studying business rather than education. All that is precarious enough as it is, no need to add more fuel to the eventual, inevitable fire. But who tells their parents everything, really?) It’s just, Steve doesn’t want to make the first move, anxious that his first actual pursuit of a guy might falter and eat shit right out of the gate.

The other thing is, Eddie is really weird about his beer funnel. Which is still unused, sitting up on a shelf over his desk. Steve always notices Eddie looking at it first thing when they go into his room. Sometimes he keeps glancing at it periodically until the deal is over and he leaves, but more often he sits off-center on Steve’s desk (usually clean, but Eddie sits regardless of clutter, the charming weirdo) directly under the thing. He squirms a lot when he does that, even for Eddie. Pulls his curly hair over his mouth to hide smiles more. Bites and licks his lips more often, which is just killing Steve a little bit.

What is it about the funnel? He never got the impression that Eddie is a partier, considering how he never comes to even the open parties, even when Steve invites him.

And then he starts to notice it.

The way Eddie is filling out more. It’s subtle, but as the weeks go by Steve can see the way his shirt and pants are fitting differently.

It looks good.

Eddie has been going through a lot of Mt Dew since that first time. It just feels good, that bubbly stretch inside him—though sometimes he just does it with water, instead. It’s not quite as satisfying without the sugar high and the caffeine, but it's cheaper.

What he hasn’t noticed is the way his stomach is starting to stay stretched. How he starts trending towards seeking that same kind of fullness when he eats, though the feeling is different… Firmer, heavier, like an anchor. Good in a different way.

It’s harder to picture Steve feeding him, though, so overeating is more of a slowly forming background habit. His brain feels permanently stuck on the whole funnel thing, like it won’t rest until he experiences it in action in Steve’s hands for real. He sees it when he goes to sleep at night. Sees it any time he blinks, really, leaving him feeling constantly both horny and empty.

His ‘real’ job is bartending at a place on campus, which ranges from lattes and smoothies during the day to taps and cocktails at night, and he keeps finding himself gulping water or pop or glorified fruity milkshakes whenever he has a minute to do so. Seeing a guy with hair like Steve prompts him to take his fifteen out back, chain smoking cigarettes and pounding down Mt Dew again like that’s his job. His boss only cares that he’s not getting into the booze on the clock, which he’s not, so… no problem there. But Eddie feels constantly distracted, his carefully constructed compartments that keep his jobs and his personal life all separate starting to break down the further he sinks into daydreaming.

So when Steve invites him to one of the frat parties, like he always does… Eddie actually goes. It’s a night he has off, and what else was he supposed to do? Sit around at home, anxiously snacking and filling himself up like a fleshy water balloon, when he could be a nervous wreck in public instead?! Why not!!

Steve finds him in the crowd surprisingly quickly and yells something over the shitty house music that suggests he’s happy to see him. Great! Then the guy disappears just as fast, and Eddie wants to wilt. Wants to slink right back out and not even go home, just dig himself a hole somewhere and live there instead. God, he’s an idiot—

But Steve is back, grinning his perfect grin and holding The Funnel, and Eddie is a weak man. He can only hope his black jeans are adequately disguising his raging hard-on as he accepts Steve’s mimed offer and follows him to the nearest plentiful source of beer.

Steve is second guessing himself. But it’s not a move to bring out the beer funnel when Eddie’s clearly curious about it, right? That’s not flirting.

Right?

Either way, though, it’s already happening. The end of the hose is between Eddie’s lips, which Steve had not anticipated somehow, is not thinking about… will likely think about later, but that’s Future Steve’s problem.

So they settle by one of the tapped kegs and Steve pours. Watches as Eddie’s eyes stay on him, but go a little glazed the more he gulps. Watches for any need to pause and give him some air, but never sees any sign of Eddie in distress. When he feels like it’s been enough he stops, and Eddie keeps staring expectantly at him for a moment before releasing the tube with a wet pop.

“That all you’ve got, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a lazy grin and a confidence that isn’t cocky at all, just easy surety of being able to take more.

“Is that a challenge, Munson?” Steve shoots back, raising an eyebrow. He kind hopes it is; he likes a challenge. Likes Eddie too, but knows himself well enough to know that he’d take it even if he didn’t. He didn’t ascend to the presidency of this fraternity on sheer good looks and family money, no matter what the rumors might say.

Eddie smirks, and now he looks cocky. (Steve wants to lick the expression right off his face and learn how it tastes.) “Tell you what, stand a little closer so I can tap out if I need to and we’ll find out. One for good, keep going; two for slow down; three for stop.” He spreads his legs a little and pats his belly where it rounds out a little over his waistband. “I’ll show you just how much I can take.”

Mindful of what could happen if Eddie does this on too empty a stomach, Steve makes him eat a big plate of nachos from the extensive snack table in the main room. Feels a flicker of heat in his core when Eddie takes the plate with a grin and a jaunty “Thanks, Steve,” an ember fanned into brightness at the sight of every bite of it passing methodically through those tempting lips. Especially any time he licks and sucks his own fingers clean, holy shit.

Then Steve stands close, and pours, and Eddie taps once. And Steve pours, and Eddie keeps going. Tap. And Steve pours, and Eddie keeps going. Tap. And Steve pours…

They’re starting to develop an audience. Cheers and whoops whenever Eddie gestures for more, obviously hamming it up for the crowd because if there’s anyone Steve’s ever met that lives for attention, it’s this guy. But his eyes remain mostly on Steve, especially when either of them move—like Eddie is watching to see if he’s watching when he shifts his legs to give his gradually expanding belly more room.

Of course Steve is watching. Like, he has to glance away sometimes to make sure he’s not missing the top of the funnel while he pours the beer in, but for the most part his eyes are glued to that generous swell, the way Eddie’s band tee is starting to tighten at his middle and ride up a little, the little spill of his love handles over either side of his jeans. He has no idea if it’s on purpose or if Eddie has just kind of skipped over noticing that his clothes are getting a little small, because either way he kind of wants to kneel down and… and bite him, or something. But like, in a nice way. Leave a few hickeys, maybe. Stake a claim, if Eddie is cool with that.

None of which he can do right now, because he has to hold the funnel up.

He sees Eddie squirming in his seat a little and pauses, thinking it might be time to call it, but Eddie slaps Steve’s thigh immediately, once. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and a little unfocused, but the look very clearly says don’t you dare stop.

And, well. Steve is getting hard in his chinos, and he can’t stop that either. Because Eddie is really enjoying this, and it’s causing him to think back over all the times the guy has been in his room and sat right under the shelf where the funnel was. Subliminal messaging, maybe? Trying to get Steve to do this for him. For weeks. God, if Eddie had just said something, Steve would’ve done this the first goddamn day.

When Eddie finally does tap out, he’s almost too bloated to take a bow as the onlookers cheer. Almost. He’s a consummate showman, what can he say? But just a little one, because the pressure when he bends is almost too much, and he’d kind of forgotten about the downside of doing this with beer. The room is a little unsteady around him, and he barely realizes it’s because he’s swaying a bit, despite the nachos, until Steve puts a steadying hand on his arm.

He sees the funnel in someone else’s hands, the next volunteer already taking the chair he’d just vacated, and opens his mouth to protest, but Steve pulls him away with a quick “I’ll get a new one for you, for just you” murmured in his ear. Relaxing, Eddie lets himself be led.

So Steve noticed, then. And wants to do it again, it sounds like? That’s good. That’s sooo good, Eddie thinks happily, even as he has to get his hands under his sloshing belly to hold it as they walk. God, his jeans are really digging into him—overdid it, but it feels fucking amazing.

Steve takes him to his room and guides him to sit on the bed. The door is shut, Eddie thinks? Maybe even locked, if frat house rooms even have locks. He doesn’t really care, not when every iota of his being is focused on getting his jeans unbuttoned, belly pushing the zipper down in its rush to spread out.

“Shit,” Steve whispers, standing over him and taking all of him in. “You didn’t have go so hard, you know…”

“Wanted to,” Eddie grunts, getting his hands in between denim and heated skin to lift his belly the rest of the way out, running his fingers over the red impression of seams and waistband on his skin with a shiver. When he’s so full like this, every sensation on his stretched gut is magnified by a hundred. He barely restrains himself from reaching underneath and palming his dick, flush with what the feeling is doing for him, but he wants to. God, even with—especially with—Steve watching. It already feels like he’s gone wild, gone totally crazy, so why not?

Fuck it. He gropes himself in front of frat president Steve fucking Harrington, letting out a moan at the sensation.

“Shit,” Steve says again, breathes it really, and then suddenly he’s on his knees before Eddie and reaching to settle his big hands on the sides of Eddie’s swollen, churning belly. Pressing just enough that Eddie lets out a belch that trails off into another moan, leans into it and belches again. Steve’s touch doesn’t falter; if anything, the expression on his face gets even more intense. “You like this.”

It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Eddie answers anyway, panting, leaning back on his hands and letting Steve take over. “Wanted it to be you, ever since—”

“Since I got that funnel?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, half in response to the way Steve is moving his palms in slow circles over taut skin, tipsy and warm and spreading his legs wider, meeting Steve’s molten hazel gaze with his own heated stare. “Wanted to earn it. How’d I do?”

Steve hesitates. “Well, uh…” He licks his lips. “How drunk are you right now?”

“Not so drunk that you should feel like you’re taking advantage.” Eddie puts in the effort to sit up straight again, aware of the way his t-shirt has rucked up to leave his bulging navel on full display and preening a little when he realizes Steve is staring. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Steve. Hope that doesn’t weird you out or anything, I swear I don’t usually get this way about anyone I deal to… So I’ve been trying to keep a lid on it but, well.” He lays a hand on the top of his belly, scratching lightly where it juts out like a shelf under his soft pecs. “Guess I just can’t help myself.”

That’s all Steve needs, apparently, to dip forward and put the first love bite of many on Eddie’s belly, teeth nipping at the layer of soft fat gathering there with a groan.

The next morning, Steve rolls out of bed at the crack of noon and runs out to get a new funnel and pick up a large order from the nearest all-day breakfast place, so Eddie can have something great to wake up to. He’s going to spoil the hell out of this guy, and who knows. Maybe by the end of the day he’ll get Eddie to agree to be his boyfriend.

(Eddie, bolstered by a full tummy and endorphin high from all the eating and sex, actually asks first. Steve does a little fist pump anyway because hell yeah, he got his man! And then helps Eddie finish his tall stack of pancakes.)

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): hotluncheddie who sent this ask 😜, @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

#wg steddie #chubby eddie munson #belly kink #frat boy steve harrington #ask #hotluncheddie #scoops words

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fairytwles · 1 year

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Chrissy survives AU!

while in the hospital for her injuries, Eddie sneaks in to her room while her parents aren’t visiting and just talks to her, about everything and anything that’s going on. ( she’s not awake yet, Vecna’s attack left her in a short coma, but he likes to think that she can hear him, that it’s comforting her as much as it’s comforting him) Eventually he brings his guitar (not his baby, way to loud for the hospital, maybe an acoustic that he has) and plays some of her favorite songs for her. (on the drive to his place the night of the attack, Eddie asked what music she liked, it was all pop and top 40’s, and he teased her for it but he remembered every last song she mentioned. I mean, how could he not, Chrissy Cunningham, the girl he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind since she complimented him at the middle school talent show is in his van, and is laughing with him and talking about music, she said she couldn’t wait to see his band perform at the hideout.)

While he isn’t a suspected murderer like he is in the show, Jason still goes on his rampage and gets the same following from the town, so he still stays on the down-low . While he’s at Ricks, he tries to learn the songs Chrissy mentioned on the drive, and he tries even harder after he learns that music is what weakens Vecna. He practices Chrissy’s favorite song over and over and over again, to make sure it’s perfect, for 1) if Vecna decides to attack her again and 2) he wants to impress her, he definitely doesn’t want to get her favorite song wrong, bad look for his guitar skills he boasted so much about. (he’s still planning on bringing her to a corroded coffin show after all of this mess is over) not only does he practice the song till his fingers basically bleed, he makes Dustin and Co. get a tape of it at the store. the next time he visits her he brings it along with a walkman and a little note simply saying ��if you feel scared again, put these on and hit play, it’ll keep you safe - E. He stuffs it in a drawer next to the bed so her mother doesn’t see it.

The upside down stuff goes as normal, Eddie still helps the crew distract the bats, still has his master of puppets, “chrissy, this is for you” moment in the upside down, but this time, he survives. He’s more driven than before, he needs this to work, he needs Nancy, Robin and Steve kill Vecna, he needs to see Chrissy again. He needs to see she’s ok so she can still come see his stupid self play guitar with his stupid band. he just needs her alive and warm and breathing and not dead, so when he climbs back up that rope he hesitates, (if he climbs back up he can visit her again, make sure she’s safe and sound in that flimsy hospital bed she’s been confined to for the past week… but the bats, they’re still flying around… Vecna’s not dead…why aren’t they dead yet?) but as he makes his decision the bats all fall to the ground, they did it.

When he gets back, Chrissy’s awake, sitting up the best she can in her bed. She’s broken up with Jason (he visited this morning, went on about how he wants Eddie arrested for the murders of poor Fred and Patrick, and the attempted murder of Chrissy. told her everything he was up to that past week, including the hunt for Eddie, and Dustin Henderson, as well as straight up threatening Lucas Sinclair, and apparently she wasn’t having it. dumped him right then and there not only for that whole mess, but a multitude of other things she wasn’t brave enough to break up with him for before) she tells Eddie she couldn’t hear much while she was out, but she could her his guitar playing her favorite songs, and insists she has to go to multiple of his shows now (if you learned those in a couple days imagine how amazing you are on stage!!). They don’t talk about the upside down much, she’s not ready yet, but neither is he truthfully, one day, her and Eddie will sit down and talk about everything that happened, today is not that day. but he does fill her in on the basics of what happened to her, that the big bad is definitely dead, and who helped kill him, so she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. She hugs him as tight as she can with her free arm (the other is in a cast, which she plans on having everyone in the party sign, she also insisted on meeting every last person who helped in this, She tells Eddie that he gets first picks at signing her cast though) and says thank you more times than he can count. They talk for hours and hours, and by the end of it, they’ve made a plan, well Chrissy made a plan and Eddie full heartedly agreed.

“once i’m out of this hospital we’re gonna make up lost time”

Theyre gonna make mixtapes for eachother, and watch movies, and talk about DnD and cheer,and drive around, and go to shows and just exist with eachother.

they can’t get out of this hospital soon enough.

#chrissy cunningham #chrissy x eddie #chrissy stranger things #stranger things #chrissy survives AU!#stranger things 4 #eddie munson #dustin henderson #vecna #hellcheer #this was supposed to be like 3 sentences #whoops #i couldn’t decide on chrissy’s favorite song so i simply didn’t put one #chrissy this is for you #my post #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer fanfiction #edissy

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omniversecomicsguide · 10 months

Text

GENIS-VELL: CAPTAIN MARVEL

Anyone who’s been following for a while or watches the Omniverse Comics Guide podcast knows I’m a HUGE Peter David fan. The pleasure that guy’s writing has brought me rivals that of a lonely housewife’s wand massager. But, y’know, in a very different way. Peter’s return to Genis-Vell sounded pretty exciting, especially with Juanan Ramirez providing the art, but I was still skeptical. Is there really a need to try and recapture the old magic? The answer, sadly is… not quite. We begin with a resurrection, which was one of the primary reasons why I dropped Marvel eight years ago. And sure the gags are there, along with the old references (some of which are patronisingly spelled out - which felt like more of an editorial decision), the magic isn’t quite there. I normally have little interest in Marvel’s reem of ‘untold tales’ titles and their vane efforts to bring back lost readers. And while this is the second time it’s worked on me (the first being ‘Joe Fixit’), I’m not convinced it’ll work ever again. Not a bad comic by any means, but it was impossible not to think about the other comics I could’ve been reading.

⭐️⭐️⭐️ out of 5

Official synopsis:

“The son of the original Kree Captain Marvel is back! Rick Jones, one-time sidekick to both Captain America and the Hulk, has a long history with Genis-Vell - and now they're about to come crashing back into each other! Can Rick save his old pal - and himself - before they both fade out of existence? Who is searching for Genis, and what does Death have to do with it? And how is Rick's ex-wife, Marlo Chandler, the key to this mysterious malady? Join our dysfunctional duo as they grapple with these questions - with a little help from Genis' sister, Phyla-Vell! Prepare to relive an exciting, hilarious and fan-favorite pairing in the year's most anticipated reunion as legendary scribe Peter David takes Genis to all-new heights of heroism! It's enough to make you exclaim: "O-wha-tagoo-siam!"

Collecting…

Genis-Vell: Captain Marvel (2022) 1-5

128 pages

Paperback

Marvel Comics

2023

#genis vell #captain marvel #peter david #marvel comics #juanan ramirez #comic review

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misslisamiray · 4 months

Text

Took me a little longer to get this chapter up than originally planned, but here's Chapter 4 of Down With the Rickness!

Newest chapter is also up on FanFiction dot net and Ao3, and I will share those links shortly.

Beth was sitting in her car outside St. Equine’s. It was still dark, but the sun was now beginning to rise. She checked the time on her phone. 5:45 A.M. With a sigh, she drank some of the extra large coffee she was holding.

“At least the sunrise is pretty. Not pretty enough to be up this fucking early, but pretty just the same. I wonder what’s going on at home. How Dad’s doing. By now, that transforming sickness must have cycled through at least a few more diseases. Morty’s there to take care of him. Oh, and Jerry too, of course. And Dad’s as tough as they come. I’m sure they’re fine. Still, I wish I knew more about these things.” Beth said to herself.

After a few seconds of thinking and a bit more coffee, something occurred to her, and she corrected herself, “Wait, maybe I know more about this than I think.” She grabbed her phone again and quickly dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?” Space Beth answered instantly.

“Hi. Hope I didn’t wake you. It’s stupid early here, and I have no idea if it is where you are, too, but we have a bit of a situation here on Earth.” Beth began to explain.

“Situation as in alien invasion? Situation as in Dad woke up some monster that’s been sleeping beneath the planet’s surface for a few centuries? Other? I need details. What happened, and how is it Dad’s fault?” Space Beth inquired. She was in her space station apartment orbiting Earth, and was studying a wall of weapons, ready to choose the correct ones for whatever mission her other self was about to describe.

“Actually, he didn’t do anything, per se. He’s sick, and he says it’s nothing to worry about, but I can’t help thinking that means I should worry more.”

“I wouldn’t. The way that man gets around, it’s doubtful this is his first intergalactic STD. He’s probably only even mentioning it to brag. And if that’s not it, then I assume he’s just more hungover than usual.” Space Beth scoffed.

In spite of herself, Domestic Beth laughed a little before replying, “No, it’s not that. Well, maybe a little of the second one, but that’s not the main issue. What do you know about Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease?” Space Beth raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

“I know that if Dad’s telling you that’s what he’s sick with, he’s lying to you.” she answered flatly.

“What?! How can you be so sure of that?”

“1, it doesn’t exist anymore. Dad, well not our Dad, but you know, a version of him – eradicated it almost 20 years ago. 2, even if it were still around, humans were never one of the species it was contagious to.” Space Beth explained. She then asked, “Out of curiosity, what kind of symptoms was he trying to blame on *Snort!* Mimicking Disease?” She was clearly amused by the situation.

“Well, all I noticed was a lot of sneezing and a nasty cough, like he has a bad cold…because that is exactly what he has, isn’t it?” Beth facepalmed as she came to that realization. Her badass sci-fi counterpart burst out laughing.

“Just to clarify, are you laughing at him, or at me for believing him?” Beth asked.

After taking a few more seconds to get herself under control, Space Beth answered, “A little of both. Naivete is not normally a quality I admire, but it’s cute on you. Mostly, I am laughing at Dad thinking he could pass off a cold as Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease.” She barely held back another wave of laughter.

“Seriously, what was his plan with that, and how did he expect to explain when the symptoms never changed? Why is he faking having an alien disease it is literally impossible for him to have, to hide having a cold?”

“I do not have answers to any of those questions. I do know Summer was onto him, and that’s why Dad sent her off with a huge list of errands like… going to Space Walmart.” Beth answered, wishing her coffee were wine instead. Space Beth had started laughing hysterically again.

Once she’d recovered her composure, she asked, “You want any help?”

“When I thought this might be something serious, yes. Now that I know without a doubt that it isn’t, I don’t want to waste your time. Dad, Jerry and Morty can handle this on their own for the day.” Beth replied.

“I wasn’t planning to drop everything and run to Earth to bring Dad chicken soup. But maybe Summer could use a hand with that errand list? You said it was long. I’m not doing anything today. If I go split the list with her, she’ll get home to keep an eye on the guys faster.” Space Beth offered. Earth Beth nodded appreciatively.

Back on Earth, Morty was walking back to Rick’s room, announcing, “Good news, bad news time. Good news is, I found a thermometer, and this almost full bottle of cold medicine. The bad news is, it’s expired by like, two years. But the internet says it’s still safe to take. It just maybe won’t work quite as well. Or it might work too well, whatever that’s supposed to mean? People on this one website were arguing about it, and it got pretty heated. I guess people really will be assholes to each other over anything online, huh? Then there was this one guy just screaming in all caps about how viruses aren’t real in the first place…”

Morty’s rambling cut off as soon as he saw Rick. Now dressed in only his boxers and a stained tanktop, he was sitting in the middle of the bed, two blankets wrapped haphazardly around him. He was currently taking a blood sample from his left arm. There was a microscope in his lap, and he was surrounded by petri dishes and empty vials.

“For fuck’s sake. Rick, what do you think you’re doing?” Morty asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I had an idea while you were gone, Morty! If I shrink you down and inject you into my bloodstream, you can negotiate some kind of peace treaty with the virus. Or just, y’know, nuke it. Obviously I’ll *Achoo!* send you in armed to the teeth.” Rick exclaimed.

“What?! Rick, no. I’m not doing that.”

“I figured you’d say that. Truth be told, I like the nuclear option best. It’d be quicker and more effective. But I admit, it might hurt a little more than I’m willing to deal with today. So, fine. Negotiation it is. *COUGH!* Obviously, I’ll have to make the germs sentient first. Otherwise, what good is talking to them going to do, right? That is going to add some time, but it should only be a few extra minutes.” Rick continued to rant. He removed the blood sample needle from his arm and emptied the contents into one of the petri dishes.

“No! You said yourself you can’t think straight when you’re sick, and this proves it! Making your cold germs sentient so you can inject me into your bloodstream to talk them into leaving you alone? Do you hear yourself, Rick? Of all the cornball, low budget sci-fi TV show ideas… It’d be different if you were like, dying and that was the only way to save you. But we’re not doing all that over a cold! You’re gonna take some medicine and go to sleep until it’s time to take more, and, ummm, whatever else normal people do when they’re sick. Got it?”

Rick looked back and forth between his grandson and the project in front of him a few times, thinking it over. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed his portal gun and used it to send the microscope and other equipment back to the garage.

“Fine! We’ll do this your way, Morty. *COUGH!* But I still say my way would be cooler.” he reluctantly agreed, scowling at Morty. He wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"That's more like it. Okay, Rick. Here you go." Morty sighed. He carefully filled the medicine's accompanying measuring cup to the top line and tried to hand it to Rick.

"I don't want it." Rick grumbled, waving it away.

"Seriously?! Why not?" Morty asked, exasperated.

"It looks gross. I'm too stuffed up to tell, but it probably smells gross, too. And I know it's gonna taste like shit. So no, I don't want it." Rick explained, stubbornly turning his head. Morty barely held back a scream.

"Are you kidding me?! I thought it was gonna be something about this stuff being inferior to anything you'd make, so you were like, insulted by it. But it's just that? Of course it's gonna taste bad. Doesn't all medicine? Just swallow it quick and get it over with." He held the cup in front of Rick, who shook his head and continued refusing to take it.

"Of course this would be the one thing in the whole damn universe you won't drink. Rick, come on! It's for your own good. Stop acting like a 4 year old and take it!" Morty argued, climbing onto the bed and shoving the small cup in front of Rick's face. Rick opened his mouth to argue further, which Morty took advantage of by quickly pouring the medicine in before the old man could react.

Furious, the second he'd swallowed it down, Rick began sputtering, "Ugh, that's even worse than I thought it would be! *Cough! Cough!* What the hell, Morty?! Not cool! You can't force strange liquids down people's throats like that!"

"You think I enjoyed any part of that?! And don't be so dramatic - alI I did was make you take some cold medicine. Also, there's no way that's the most disgusting thing you've ever swallowed." Morty pointed out.

"Well, if nothing else, I can't argue that part. Still, that shit is foul. Yuck." Rick complained, still looking disgusted. He grabbed his flask and took a swig to wash away the taste. Morty considered saying something about that not being a great idea, but quickly decided it was a losing battle he wasn't interested in.

Instead, he said, “See. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rick just glared at him again, so Morty continued, “I’m sorry it’s gross. But that medicine should help you feel better. And that’s what we’re trying to do, right, buddy? Get you back on your feet.” An indignant shrug and sniffle was all he got in response.

“You uh, you need anything, Rick? If you’re good and just gonna sleep, I might *YAWN!* go back to bed, too. Or I can hang out here if you want.”

Rick thought it over before saying, “Morty, g-give me that medicine bottle.” Morty handed it to him, figuring Rick wanted to read the ingredients, maybe get a sample to synthesize more. Or see for himself just how expired it was. After giving the bottle a quick once-over, Rick proceeded to chug the rest of the contents.

“Rick, no! What the hell?! You can’t do that! Stop!” Morty yelled, trying to take the bottle back. Of course, it was already empty at this point.

“First you want me to take this disgusting medicine, now you don’t want me to take it? *ACHOO!* Make up your mind, Morty! I’m in no mood to try and decipher mixed signals today.” Rick snapped, shivering badly. He was still cold even with the two blankets, and the medicine did taste absolutely terrible. He quickly drank the rest of what was in his flask to get rid of the taste. Morty’s look of horror and disapproval increased.

“Not like that, Rick! You’re not supposed to take it all at once! It’s dangerous! Aw geez, do we know the number for Poison Control? That cannot be good for you, and… what am I saying? If anyone else pulled a stunt like that, they’d definitely need to go to the hospital. But it’s you, so it’s fine. Probably.” Morty answered, going from panicked to weary as he thought about the situation and who he was dealing with. Rick just shrugged, clearly not sharing Morty’s concerns.

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfic #rick and morty fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #down with the rickness #sickfic #rick sanchez #morty smith #rick c137 #morty prime #beth smith #space beth

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magnumdays · 2 years

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Magnum PI 5.04 - ‘NSFW’ review

I think this might be my new favourite episode! Seriously, this had all the bits I love and nothing I didn’t so doesn’t that make it the perfect Magnum PI episode? I’m inclined to think so...

Everyone be Worrying (this be da theme of the week?)

So maybe a strange thing to start off with but this episode has a lot of worrying about each other. Higgy worries about Thomas (hand touching again!), Thomas worries about the guys, Gordy worries enough to risk his career, TC’s girl notices and is worried, Rick worries that he wasn’t there for Ruthie and even the case is, at the core about worrying something has happened.

I did really enjoy Higgy being worried, though I can’t decide why the line“I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially now.” is bugging me. Just a little.

Like sure, I get that things are different, but would she really have been that much less devastated six months ago if he got hurt? It just felt a little strange for some reason to me. I did love that we finally got another Miggy kiss, and they’re being so super adorable with the kissing and banter and worrying! Just making my day.

Also is Thomas/Jay saying “now I don’t want to go” not the sexiest thing anyone has ever said? Like what did he do to make his voice all raspy and grrr? Very much enjoyed. Big time enjoyed. Can’t wait for more because damn NBC you’re killing it with the Miggy content. Like it’s just perfectly woven into the rest of the episode.

The Case

So I think I cared the most about this case out of the four we’ve had so far this season. We can see that the client Jordan really is concerned about Sandra both on a personal level and because if she’s not there for the big meeting the company might go under. A company doing good thing, possibly being at the forefront of clean energy.

So yeah, half meeting in, I care about Sandra and this company and I want everything to work out.

Spoilers - things do not work out - neither for Sandra, Jordan or (I’m assuming) the company.

I enjoyed both Magnum and Higgins investigating, Magnum pretending to be ‘Tom’ and Higgy hacking and checking garbage and just them putting things together.

Leaving it a little ambiguous with if the prosecutor ended up going after Jordan or Zoe was an interesting deviation from the normal ‘justice is always served’ theme of Magnum PI. Will, the janitor guy was saved from being falsely incarcerated though which is very on brand.

Little sad about the energy company presumably going belly up. It would have been interesting if the Mom had confessed and then maybe part of her motivation could have been ‘this way the company lives on’ even as she took the fall. Because it did sound like she was into creating it too and cared about Sandra too.

Wonder if we get to see Zoe again. There was something a little sweet-creepy about her... and she did kill Sandra and is going to get away scot free. Wonder what that does to a person... (she could be a odd sort of return bad guy for season 6. Maybe.) Also how would it be like to live with your kid knowing she’d killed your husband’s mistress? Weird I’m guessing.

Ruthie & Rick

I thought this was a really interesting dynamic, like Rick expects screw-up Ruth but she’s grown up and even has the audacity of having kept a secret from him for decades(?)! Rick goes from worrying what’s wrong and how he might help her to worrying about not having been clued in, to worrying about not having been good enough/been what she needed. In the end she shows she very much thinks of him as someone very important to her by asking her to give her away at her wedding.

It showed up a bit of a different side to Rick, which was nice, we got a feels plot + positive representation and a kind of interesting take on how someone might feel about a person coming out. Rick isn’t upset about her being gay but about the secret and not having known. I really liked that, because it showcases that you can be okay with someone’s sexuality but still struggle when you learn something surprising about someone you’re close to and maybe feel sad and upset they didn’t trust you sooner. I think.

Also I want to meet Tammy now. She seems like a blast.

TC & Mahina (Cade)

So we finally got word Cade is coming back! I’m looking forward to that and I’m loving how sweet TC and Mahina are and it’s nice to see TC having someone look out for him. I hope we get to see more of Mahina, maybe something with her job as a fire fighter (I do remember that right and she was a fire fighter right?)

Greene case

So Gordon getting Magnum the case file *chef’s kiss* that just shows how different things are now and how important the Ohana has become to our favourite (ex) cop.

I like that it’s in every episode so far, but in the background enough to not be super distracting. Still it’s very present and great to have as an extra incentive for people to come back and follow along each week to see how it develops. So far doing that great, much better than earlier seasons where the bad guy of the season tended to just be forgotten for a few episodes and then randomly pop up again.

Already mentioned the worrying, which I loved, and I like that Thomas is letting people in and admitting to being worried and scared and yeah, being set on facing things together. I think that’s important and I hope we get something similar, like a moment, with Higgy where she’s also ‘we’ll do it together’ because she’s always been so determined to go at everything alone too. She’s very much a protector, as we saw in this, when she tried to make Magnum stay back at the office and be ‘safe’. I’m excited to see where this Greene case goes and how it all ties back to what they did on that mission in Afghanistan.

Next Week!

We finally getting our lift-kiss scene and we got TC and Rick starting to really get suspicious (at least if the trailer is for next weeks episodes is to be believed). Also Magnum still has Roberto II! The mouse is making a comeback as well as Zeus and Apollo!

#magnum PI #My Reviews #magnum pi review #magnum p.i.#Miggy #Thomas Magnum #juliet higgins #this show just makes me so happy

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fantasy-fields-bitty-center · 2 years

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Spooky month bitty: Rick

Normal Rick(Richard Hedony) bitty

Name: Rick

Size: 9 - 11 inches tall(mini), 2 - 2'6 feet tall(fullsize)

Personality: Depressed, careless(though caring to those they care about), pessimistic,

Likes: Radford bitties, watching tv/movies, playing video games, Kevin bitties, Streber bitties, Ethan bitties, Leon bitties, Blaz bitties, Miles bitties, Aria bitties, Liv bitties,

Dislikes: Being depressed, being alone, being the only bitty up(or in the household),

Compatibility: These bitties rarely have a proper sleep schedule, often just being awake whenever they are awake, which can be pretty random!

These bitties lack motivation most days, they have their ups and downs and often need help even on their better days, they don't to well being alone and should always have at least one bitty they can talk to and that doesn't mind helping them at least get out of bed to do somthing, even if its just play some videogames or watch tv!

These bitties often see life with a 'glass half empty' mentality, often seeing the bad, so these bitties need a lot more support that a lot of other bitties!

These bitties can be super chill with those they trust, often wanting to(and being able to) put in more effort for those they care about! Weather its reminding an owner of things they need to do or just being a gaming buddy! Though these bitties need more support then they can give in return so don't make the best service bitties, but they do make good companion bitties!

These bitties are even more depressed when rescues, weather it be an owner passed, they were abused, or even just a stray, these bitties need way more help when rescues!

These bitties tend to have a darker sense of humor but vary in other kinds of humor they like! It's best to find a Rick bitty with a similar sense of humor as you so you and your bitty can share jokes and laughs!

Feeding habits: These bitties do not care what they eat but have issues being motivated enough to feed themselves, so having other bitties that don't mind helping them is a good idea or just making sure they eat properly works too!

Additional info: Warning! These bitties are often very depressed and need help with said depression! They need companionship and shouldn't be left alone to long when they don't need it, they often self isolate when they feel bad(which is often) so its recommended to adopt a Radford, Kevin, Streber, Emmett, Miles, Max, and/or Oliver bitty as they can help them!

These bitties are also known for having suicidal or self harming tendencies and do best if they have therapy! They go to therapy at the center but it's recommended to keep them in therapy after being adopted as well!

These bitties can also have trouble with addiction so be careful with any sort of drug(illegal or not) or alcohol around them! Luckily they tend to lack the motivation to get into it if its just slightly out of reach though, but that isn't all the time!

Zone: Inside,

In Universe: These bitties are seen as depressed or just lazy to some, though super chill to those that put it the effort to help them!

Difficulty: Advanced - Expert

AU info(This is only for the au type they are! Info may change in other au bios!):

Caucasian

Gay(was closeted/in denial about it till a little bit out of highschool)

Depressed

self harms,

dating Radford

#bittybones #Bitty Bio #adoptable #Spooky month bitty #Spooky month info #Rick bitty #tw drugs #tw alcohol #tw depression #Lab made bitty #Advanced #Expert

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thisaintascenereviews · 8 months

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Hip-Hop Roundup Review

I’ve mentioned before, at least in passing, that I didn’t listen to a lot of hip-hop last year. I only really sunk my teeth into one hip-hop album in 2023, and that was the latest Aesop Rock album, which was great, in its defense. I just didn’t find much else that tickled my fancy, but I wanted to rectify that this year, so I’ve made a much bigger effort to find some hip-hop releases that catch my attention, and in this roundup, I’d like to briefly talk about three albums from the genre I’ve been into lately, starting with…

Fredo Bang - Yes I’m Sad

Starting with Fredo Bang’s newest album, Yes I’m Sad, and this album is one of those that I don’t have a whole lot to say about, which kind of spurred my decision to talk about these albums in this vein. Fredo Bang is a rapper I wasn’t too familiar with before listening to this, but Yes I’m Sad is a short little trap and hip-hop album that doesn’t have anything new or unique to say, but it does have some good hooks, Bang’s vocals are pretty solid (both autocrooned and rapped), and the guest spots aren’t half bad, especially when you have Kevin Gates and Rick Ross, among others. This is a case of “if you like this sound, you’ll like this album,” and I wasn’t wanting to originally talk about it, but it’s a good album for what it is.

21 Savage - American Dream

The first big album of the year was the new 21 Savage album, American Dream, and truth be told, this is my first album from him, but I really enjoy this album. I’ve been coming back to it a lot, but I’ll also admit that this album is nothing out of the ordinary for him. This is a very energetic, dark, menacing, and trap-infused record that has 21 Savage making threats, using gunplay, and all types of stuff he normally raps about, all the while having guests such as Doja Cat, Travis Scott, Young Thug, Lil Durk, and Summer Walker, among a few others, all of whom do a good job. Seriously, the few songs with producer Metro Boomin are some of the best on the record, but even cuts like the big single “Redrum,” or “Sneaky” are really solid and have some great production behind them. 21 sounds great, too, even if a lot of it is his typical fare, but he sounds energized, at least more so than on his collaborative album with Drake from 2022. The album also has a slight thread running through it, as the title alludes to his immigration troubles from a few years back, where it became known that he was British (although he has lived in the US a majority of his life), and his mom narrates the short introduction that starts the album, talking about how she wanted nothing but the best for him. American Dream is nothing new for 21 Savage, but this is a very satisfying album.

Lyrical Lemonade - All Is Yellow

Cole Bennett has been known for the last decade as a videographer and director that has created and filmed many music videos for aspiring and up and coming rappers, such as the late Juice WRLD, Cordae, Jack Harlow, and many more, but what would happen if Bennett made an album based on the Lyrical Lemonade brand? It certainly has become a brand over the years, and having a music video with him is a big deal, so an album featuring a selection of artists would be just as cool, right? This album is going to have music videos for every song, but in terms of an album, this is a pretty solid album, although it does tend to feel disjointed in certain tracks. Compilations like this are a bit tricky, but this album features a lot of artists, such as the late Juice WRLD, Cordae, JID, Lil Yachty, Ski Mask The Slump God, Eminem, Sheck Wes, Latto, Jack Harlow, Dave, and many more. The results are somewhat mixed, because there are songs that stick out more than others, but which songs will differ from person to person, so I’d say check it out if you’re curious enough about the guests and how they work with each other. This album is a lot of fun, and it isn’t too long, thankfully, but it can be a mixed bag.

#fredo bang #21 savage #yes i’m sad #american dream #lyrical lemonade #cole bennett #all is yellow #hip hop #rap #juice wrld #cordae #eminem #ski mask the slump god #jid #jack harlow #latto #lil yachty

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prince-septimus · 3 years

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bathroom break

pairing : rick flag x bartender!reader

summary : a team of criminals and a colonel wearing a cowboy hat walk into a bar.

word count : 2.4k

warnings : smut, 18+, minor spoilers for the suicide squad

You had spotted them the moment they walked in -- they stuck out like a sore thumb. The rag-tag group of men and the woman with the rat on her shoulder.

Nothing surprised you anymore, so you paid them no mind.

Not until the man in the cowboy hat stepped up to the bar.

It was a while after they arrived -- all crowded into a table not meant to fit the three giant men in the group, let alone all five of them. They had started off slow, a couple of shots, and then they were all splitting off. You could see a few of them on the dance floor, all clearly lost in their own little world.

The bar isn’t particularly crowded tonight. There’s a few regulars, but nothing that keeps you too busy. That’s why you’re able to spot him stepping up to the counter, a beer bottle in hand as he offers you a cheap smile.

He’d be hard to miss even if you had been distracted.

“What can I get you?” you ask, your hands toying with the rag in your hands as you watch the man carefully. There’s something about him that puts you on edge, and you’re not quite sure yet if it’s a good or bad thing.

“Another beer,” he tells you, his teeth flashing in the neon lights of the bar. There’s a faint drawl to his voice, and you can tell the alcohol he’s drank has caused it to drop. “And a one-way ticket out of here.”

“Not the party type?” You take the bottle from his hands, quickly replacing it with another. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His lips turn up. “It’s the hat, ain’t it?”

There’s a slight hint of a smile on your face.

He shakes his head as he takes a pull from the fresh bottle. “Ladies love the hat.”

You busy yourself with wiping down the counter, trying not to think too much into his words. “What’s your name, cowboy?”

Another smile, this one cocky and full of confidence. “That’s classified.”

You make a face. “You really think I’d tell on you?”

“No, but I do think you could get me into quite a bit of trouble.”

The heat courses through your body so quick, and you’re suddenly very aware of everything about this man: the arrogance with which he wears his combination of a cowboy hat and ratty t-shirt, the cocksure smug he sports across his face, and the way he’s looking at you right now.

Something about him reminds you of men you’ve thrown out before, ones who had gone a little too far and had gotten a little too handsy, but there’s something that tells you this man wouldn’t do either of those things unless requested.

Another swig of his beer, and then the bottle is empty.

“Rick Flag.”

You raise a brow. “Flag? How patriotic.”

“There’s more truth in that statement than I’d like.”

“You’re a soldier?”

“Used to be.”

“And now?”

It’s the first time you see something other than his brash personality show through. There’s something almost like regret etched into his features. “Something like that.”

You frown, feeling the conversation taking a turn that you don’t like. Conversations with bartenders are meant to be pleasant -- something to calm your foggy mind and fuel your drunken desires.

You briefly wonder if he’s drunk.

“Had enough?” you ask, motioning to his bottle.

That smug look returns. “It takes a lot more than a couple of shots and a few beers to get me drunk.”

He gives you a knowing look and you flush at the realization that you had been caught in your motives for asking.

“Do you want another?”

“I think I’m good.” A pause. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I’m working.” You feel dumb when you say it, but it’s true.

It makes Rick laugh. “Okay. What about the bathroom? You do get bathroom breaks, don’t you?”

You glance at the restrooms in the corner. “Anybody who knows better knows not to use our bathrooms.”

“Even better.” Rick grins. “Then they’ll know it was an emergency.”

You feel your mouth fall slack, trying to take in Rick’s sudden forwardness. You know there’s a possibility at losing your job over this, but you couldn’t be the first employee to fuck a patron, right?

Maybe the first to fuck one in the bar’s bathroom.

The space is stuffy and smells faintly of stale piss -- a good sign that you won’t be disturbed. One of the overhead lights is busted, its bulb shattered and littered across the tiled floor. You’re not sure who last cleaned in there, but in no way is anything sanitary and up-to-code.

That doesn’t stop Rick from lifting you up onto the bathroom sink and kissing you so hard your head smacks into the mirror behind you. You let out a groan at the quick pain that courses through your head, but Rick swallows the sound and attempts to pull something sweeter from you. The brim of his hat tips back as you kiss, and you absentmindedly push it off, letting it fall to the floor before his shirt follows.

You push him away just enough to admire his exposed skin -- his broad chest and tattooed arms. When you meet his gaze you can see that confidence still hidden there.

You reach for his jeans, yanking on the button and zipper and trying your best to push them down. Rick takes the opportunity to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking a bruise into the underside of your jaw as he takes over for you, kicking his shoes off and pushing his pants down in one quick movement.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he breathes against your skin, “not fair.”

You push on his chest again before yanking your own shirt off, throwing it into the growing pile on the floor. Rick reaches around you, deftly releasing the latch of your bra and pulling the fabric from your body. As his lips land on your bare shoulder, light kisses pressed into your skin, Rick reaches down to undo your jeans.

The next moment is the most awkward, and there’s laughter from both of you as Rick deftly pulls your shoes off before you try to lift up enough for your pants to follow. He struggles to pull the tight fabric from around your waist, but finally gets them off. It’s awkward and clumsy and there’s something oddly intimate about it.

And then Rick’s fingers are against the growing wetness of your panties and you’re crying out against his mouth at the stimulation.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he drawls against your lips, “so wet for me already.”

His fingers smooth up and down the fabric, giving enough stimulation to make you feel something, but not enough to get off. You push a hand through his hair, trying to coax some sort of sound from him to mix with your own, and with a slight yank on the hair at the nape of his neck, Rick is groaning out loud. His eyes shut as his hand against you picks up speed, rubbing more earnestly now.

Just as you feel the hint of something start to grow, Rick pulls his hand away, a smirk painted across his face as he looks at your disheveled state.

“You bastard,” you breathe out, resting your hands on either side of you as you try to catch your breath.

Rick laughs. “I’ve been called worse.”

There’s a lull in the action then, and it takes you a moment to figure out why.

“I don’t have a condom,” Rick says softly.

You smile, wiping at the sweat gathering on your forehead before pointing to the machine in the corner. You’re not sure when they had last been changed out, but you’re sure they’re good enough to use still.

It’s another slightly intimate moment -- you watching Rick fumble with the machine before finally producing a condom and holding it up in success. It’s cute, the grin that forms on his face when he turns back to you.

“Still okay with this?” he asks, unwrapping the condom before pushing down his briefs to put it on.

You bite your lip at the sight of him, almost forgetting that your own underwear are still on. When you reach to take them off, Rick reaches out to stop you.

“Keep ‘em on,” he tells you gently. He steps back up to the sink, standing between your legs as he reaches a hand down. His fingers skim across the fabric of your panties before he’s hooking into them and pulling them to the side.

There’s something about the action that turns you on so much you forget to breathe for half a second, and it catches you off-guard when he finally slides into you -- slowly filling you to the brim.

“Good?” he asks, panting slightly, and all you can do is nod as you let the feeling of him inside you completely wash over you.

The first moments are slow, both of you trying to get used to the feel and the position. And then his arms are hooking under your thighs, changing the position slightly and causing him to go almost deeper. You let out a small cry at the sensation as he begins to pick up the speed.

The mirror shakes with the force that he’s fucking into you with, and it leaves you breathless with each stroke. He’s pressing his lips against yours, but it’s nothing close to a kiss, just two mouths pressing against each other as you both try to get a hold on the feelings.

It’s all so overwhelming, and you whine into Rick’s mouth as his hands grip your hips and use that hold to push you against him. You can feel the beginnings of your orgasm returning, a little quicker than normal due to the previous stimulation, and you put a hand on Rick’s chest, trying to steady yourself.

“Almost there,” he tells you, his pace turning sloppy.

When you look at him, his pupils are blown out. He moves his hands up to grab your neck, pushing you back against the mirror. The position is more clunky, a little harder to manage, but Rick never stops moving against you as he swipes his tongue into your mouth.

He’s kissing you when your orgasm hits, swallowing your moans as he sets a frantic pace, trying to get himself off. The overstimulation hits like a truck, and you’re practically crying out against Rick’s mouth.

When his orgasm hits, he falls against you. You absentmindedly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face into your shoulder, groaning out as he finishes inside the condom. You hadn’t noticed a chill to the bathroom before, but now you can feel it creep up along your skin and you try to use Rick’s body against yours to keep warm.

“You were right about these bathrooms,” Rick says a few minutes later when both of your chests have stopped heaving. He lifts up slightly from you, glancing around the dingy bathroom before carefully pulling himself out of you. The action causes both of you to let out a hiss at the sensitivity, and then you’re making a choked noise when Rick lets his fingers brush across your slit before he pulls your panties back into place.

“Cheeky,” you breathe out, “very cheeky.”

“I try.” He gives you a quick wink as he reaches down to grab at the pile of clothes across the floor. “You think they’re still clean enough to wear?”

“They’ll have to be,” you chirp, taking your clothes and shoes from his arms.

It’s the last intimate moment of the night, the two of you getting dressed beside each other in a dirty bar bathroom. Rick bumps his shoulder against yours as he pulls his shoes back on and you offer him a giddy grin. You snatch his hat from the floor, pretending to brush the dirt off the brim and placing it atop his head. Rick smiles at you, a smile that’s less cocky and more saccharine. You reach for the door after the two of you finish getting dressed, carefully pushing it open to look around the bar. It’s slowly emptying as the night goes on, but there’s still enough people to not make it so obvious when the two of you slip out from the bathroom.

“It’s not the worst walk of shame I’ve done,” you comment, taking pleasure in the way Rick’s brows shoot up as he follows you back to the bar.

“I’m shameful now, am I?”

“More like shameless.” You take your position back behind the bar as Rick takes the seat across from you. When you look out into the dimly lit room, you spot the group Rick had originally come in with. “I think your friends are onto you.”

Rick follows your gaze, offering a small wave to the group when he spots them. “They’ll be fine. Everyone’s got to use the bathroom once in a while, right?”

The look Rick gives you then sends you into a fit of giggles. “Bathroom break. Sure.”

Rick waits for you to settle down before he’s giving you that sweet smile from earlier.

You look at him strangely. “What?”

“I had fun,” Rick tells you, “wouldn’t mind doing it again next time I’m around.”

You scoff playfully, “I bet you wouldn’t.” You still reach for a pen and scrap piece of paper, quickly scribbling your name and number down and handing it to Rick.

Rick stares at the paper for a second before he says your name, a small twang in his voice. It occurs to you that you previously hadn’t given your name, and he's grinning at you like a mad man. “At least now I know who’s name to call out next time.”

Rick leaves you with that, heading back to his friends who all give him a pat on the back as he passes. There's a heat in your face from his words that you’re not sure will ever go away.

#an alternative ending to that bar scene in the suicide squad #aka my attempt at giving rick some fucking happiness #its what he deserves james gunn #rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag imagine #the suicide squad #the suicide squad imagine #the suicide squad spoilers

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

Doctor’s Orders (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Prompt: “Why’d you always have to spoil my fun?” and “You nearly died!” Requested by anonymous, numbers #6 and #16 from this post.

Summary: Daryl isn’t too impressed when he finds you with a sling on your arm and a smile on your face.

Words: 1766

Warnings: Language, Injury.

There were many things you feared more than death. There were many things you feared in general. Whether it was heights or small spaces, or even spiders - those spooky, crawly bastards - you would easily admit it when you were afraid.

In this new world, death was inevitable. You didn't want to die; leaving your family behind was out of the question. Though, it didn’t frighten you, either. Rather, you often found yourself scared of the more mundane things - those things that you could control - over something that was completely out of your hands.

There were many things you feared more than death, and Daryl Dixon was one of them.

Denise had gone to get the man, despite your pleas not to. She'd been good enough to patch you up, and mend the small cuts over your skin. They were only shallow, so they wouldn't leave any scars. It was the sling you were more concerned about.

You knew when Daryl saw it, you'd be in for an ear-full. It wasn't that bad an injury, but Denise had still doped you up on some pain-killers before leaving to find the man. It was meant to be an in-and-out job, but things never really did seem to go as planned.

"Who're you trying to kill with that smile?" Denise teased, as she walked back through the doorway to the clinic.

You had barely realised you'd been grinning from ear to ear until she’d said it. She was alone for the time being, so you thought you should take the opportunity to cherish the peace whilst it lasted.

"Myself, apparently." You chuckled, but let out a wince soon after.

The small movement had reminded you to keep still. It was only a broken bone, and you'd had worse before, but it ached all the same. Denise shook her head in return, letting out a huff of air as she stared at you exasperated.

"You are the first person to come into my clinic beaming like that whilst injured." She muttered, and you sloppily shrugged one shoulder in response.

Then you heard the main door fling open, and slam into the wall - and sighed.

"Here he comes." You muttered, and braced for impact.

Daryl stormed into the clinic like he was on a mission. He was sweaty, and you noticed that he was missing his jacket. He rushed through the doorway and whipped his head around the room until his eyes finally settled on you, sitting on the bed in the corner. You offered him a sheepish smile, and raised your good arm to give him a small wave.

The man stalked straight past Denise and made his way to your bedside, standing over you in an instant.

"What the fuck were ya thinkin'?" He yelled.

It wasn't that you feared Daryl Dixon's temper - that, you could manage. What you feared was that certain look in his eyes, and you saw it now as you met his gaze. His chest heaved, and most would probably think it was from anger. But, you knew better than that. He'd probably run over here in a panic. That is what you could see in his expression - pure worry.

"Nice to see you, too." You joked light-heartedly, trying to mask your guilt.

Daryl glanced at you, letting his eyes trail over the shallow cuts on your face all the way down to your arm - which sat tucked away in its sling. He shook his head, and took small paces in front of you.

"Ya leave for a supply run-" he started, almost below his breath. "An' Denise comes to tell me ya jumped outta a movin' truck!"

His voice rose as he spoke, and his final words came out as a loud growl that made you swallow thickly. You were ashamed, but you also thought that the man worried too much. If it were down to him, he'd have you wrapped up in cotton wool everytime you left the gates of Alexandria.

"It wasn't even going that fast." You mumbled back, defensively.

Denise had her back pressed flat against the wall, inadvertently caught in the cross-fire. She was in too deep to leave unnoticed, and stood there awkwardly watching the exchange. You sent her an apologetic smile, before looking back up at the man.

"Why'd you always have to spoil my fun?" You teased, but felt like you might have stepped on a landmine when you saw him scowl.

Daryl threw his hands up in frustration, and narrowed his eyes at your injury again.

"Ya nearly died!" He shouted, his voice guttural as it cut through the room.

"Exactly." You quipped back, but instantly regretted it.

You'd only been trying to convince him that you were fine, but Daryl seemed inconsolable. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or perhaps the pain-killers, but you realised that you may have been acting a little too care-free. You weren't so much scared of Daryl as you were of hurting him.

"It's only a broken collar bone." Denise interjected, once she finally mustered the confidence to do so. "She'll be fine."

Daryl whipped his head around, as though he'd forgotten she was even there. He stayed silent, but you tried your best to help coax him.

"Listen to the doctor, Dixon." You reminded the man, but with a much softer tone this time.

Daryl stopped his pacing, and instead made his way back over to you. He closed the gap as he approached, and your knees knocked together with his from where you were sitting on the bed. You could still see the pain in his eyes, and it made you realised that you must be one of the things Daryl Dixon feared, too.

He rested his palm over your cheek tentatively, careful not to brush up against the fresh wounds that marred your skin. You leaned into his warm touch, and placed your own hand over his in return.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over me." You whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll be more careful."

Daryl became like putty in your hands at that, and his expression softened like he'd only just allowed himself to relax. The entire time, it was as though the man had been running on pure adrenaline, and nobody could convince him that you were okay - even if he’d seen it with his own eyes.

In your peripheral, you noticed Denise looking at you - but she quickly glanced away when she realised she'd been caught. You could tell that she didn't want to intrude on the tender moment, but was curious to see Daryl so vulnerable at the same time.

The man stayed like that for a few seconds, letting your thumb rub over the back of his hand as he inspected your injuries some more.

"C'mon." He mumbled finally, and took a few steps backwards to let you stand up.

He retrieved your gear which had been left on a nearby chair, and slung it over his shoulder before walking to the door. You followed after him with careful footsteps, feeling as the pain jolted up your body. You sent a smile to Denise, and thanked her, but she shook her head in response - humble as ever.

"Look after her, Daryl." She called out to the man, as she saw the both of you off at the doorstep of the clinic. "Doctor's orders."

Daryl was normally a gentle man. He wasn't the type to have to be reminded to take good care of you. But, sometimes, he seemed to forget his own strength - along with his patience.

"Oww!" You shrieked, and flinched away.

The two of you were in your bedroom, and Daryl had been left with the impossible task of getting you dressed. He'd done a good job of it so far, but when it came your shirt all hell broke loose.

"Stop!" You yelled again, but the man had your arm tightly within his grip. "You're killing me!"

He'd gotten the first sleeve on just fine - but the other one was giving him grief. You'd slipped your arm out of the sling, but had trouble lifting it high enough to get your hand through the hole. The man kept trying to get you to straighten it, but you saw stars every time he did.

"So, wha'?" Daryl grumbled, seeming at the end of his rope. "Dyin' suddenly ain't tha' fun 'nymore?"

You winced as you jolted away too suddenly. At one point, you'd tried to convince him to just button up the shirt with only one arm in it - but he'd shot you a look and muttered something about 'making a fashion statement' under his breath.

"I ain't killin' ya." He continued, noticing your look of pain. "Jus' stop movin' an' it'll be over quicker."

You tried to do just that, but your arm wouldn't bend in the way he wanted it to - and you cried out again.

"It hurts!" You told him, and recoiled away. "You're pulling too hard."

Daryl wore an expression of utter exasperation, and opened his mouth to snap something back. Except, there was a knock at the door before he could.

You jumped again, having not even heard anyone come into the house - and breathed out through gritted teeth at the discomfort it caused.

"What the hell is going on in there?" A voice asked through the wall.

"Glenn?" You replied, immediately recognising him.

Daryl shot you a look, and you could tell he blamed you for all this. You rolled your eyes in response, and Glenn spoke again.

"Rick sent me to get you." He called, still behind the closed door. "Did you forget we had a meeting?"

Daryl let the sleeve of the shirt drop from his hand, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ain't forget nothin'." He shouted back. "Jus' runnin' late 'cos of princess pain tolerance."

"Daryl?" Glenn asked, and you snorted.

You saw the handle on the door twist slightly, but Daryl quickly elbowed it shut before Glenn could enter.

"We'll be there soon!" You explained. "Daryl's helping me get dressed."

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds, and Daryl returned back to you - looking over at the shirt like he considered just taking it off again. You giggled at his expression, before you heard Glenn clear his throat from behind the door.

"Right." He said quietly, but you still caught it. "There are some things I'd rather not know."

A/N I broke my collar bone before and it was so painful... I remembered the struggles of getting dressed and HAD to write a scene about it.

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hournites · 3 years

Text

Blush

Fluffy Hournite fic for Valentine’s Day!

~.~

It’s as normal a day as any. Beth wakes up and brushes her teeth, gets dressed, makes breakfast, eats breakfast then walks towards Main Street in the crisp morning cold. She sticks her hands into the pockets of her maroon tweed skirt and hurries into the Pit Stop just as the sun peaks over the clouds atop the St-Thomas Church steeple.

Pat’s head is stuck under the roof of his recent fix-up, but he waves his wrench in her direction when the garage door opens.

“Good morning, Mr. Dugan!” She shrugs off her bag. There’s forty-five minutes until homeroom, it makes more sense to wait here than wait for her friends to trickle in one by one to school. “Is Court up yet?”

Pat’s words are muffled under the purring engine. He rights himself up and shoots her a sympathetic smile. “Actually, Court’s got an emergency dentist appointment. Barb’s driving her in so she won’t be late for second period.”

“Oh,” Beth replies. “That’s okay.”

Internally, she rolls her eyes. Courtney’s been strategically faking a toothache since Monday in order to score a very convenient teeth cleaning on Valentine’s Day, convinced it’s finally the day Cameron Mahkent is going to kiss her.

“Rick should be here soon though.” And the bells just finished chiming so Yolanda is likely heading down the front steps of the church now.

Sure enough, the Yellow Mustang rolls into the driveway, while still early, a little later than usual. Beth bites down on her lip to quell the stupid grin threatening to grace her face as she watches him walk in through the window. It’s not like she hadn't seen him yesterday.

“Hey,” he greets her when he arrives, climbing up the steps to the loft. He’s wearing one of his classic tan coloured sherpa jackets. “I passed by Yolanda at the church, she said she’s going to walk.” He pauses halfway, hands on the bars of the ladder instead of coming up all the way. “What’s up?”

Beth shrugs. “Nothing much. Doing some homework. Have you started reading Emma?”

“Uhhh...” Rick says. “No? I mean, I’ll get to it. Eventually. When’s the book report due again?”

“Not until the week after next.”

Rick shakes his head at her. “Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon.”

“Or I can read it to you?”

“I know how to read!”

“I know!” Beth laughs. “But I think it would be fun.” ...And it’s an excuse to spend more time with him.

“Fine! You can read it to me.” He rests his arms against the top ladder step. “Sure. Okay.”

“Really?!” Beth grins. That was easy. “We can meet here tomorrow before school! I’ll bring you coffee!”

“Sounds good.” He gestures to the ground floor. “Come down. I’ve got something for you in the car, wanna see?”

Curious, Beth quickly puts away the book and follows him down. Rick throws up a wave at Pat, and they leave through the side door. Main Street is a lot busier now, and the chill isn’t as bad with the sun on her back. It’s nice enough for February, but Beth is really wishing she brought her heavier coat.

“What happened to your jacket?”

Beth frowns a bit. He’s right to point it out that it’s weird but it’s hard to exactly justify to Rick foregoing a hat and scarf and thick jacket in favour of looking cute. Courtney would get it.

Beth deflects by striking a pose. “Do you like my outfit?” It’s on theme without being too on the nose. Her mom thought it was a very classy 80s style cardigan and skirt pairing she couldn’t go wrong with.

“Yeesss…” Rick answers slowly, “But are you sure you don’t want my hoodie?”

Beth’s eyes grow wide. Uh, was Rick just offering? Before she could untwist her tongue to reply, he’s shrugging it off from under his jacket and tossing it to her. Beth spins to catch the hoodie before it lands on concrete.

“Thanks,” she says weakly, pulling it over her elastic hairband, just knowing it’s messing up with her hair as she struggles to get her head through the hole. It’s huge on her, hanging from her elbows like a gigantic fleece sheet. Rick’s eyes are full of laughter when she scrunches up her nose, trailing her fingertips at the hem of the hoodie where it brushes against her knees. With the flesh-coloured stockings matched for her skirt still skin-tight on her legs and her red earrings, it looks like Beth is swallowed in a makeshift hoodie dress destined for a photo-op in street-style fashion.

“It’s not that big,” he lies.

Beth grumbles as if she’s not secretly loving this. Both Rick’s clothes hugging her and his lingering gaze.

She rushes to the passenger side of Rick’s car, eager to get in. Rick unlocks the car and Beth opens the door. Instead of climbing in, she stops and her mouth hangs open.

Rick shrugs as though it’s completely normal to find a beautiful bouquet of romantic red roses in his car. “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?”

Wait, those are for me?

And then she feels silly as a warm sweep of happiness rushes through her all the way down to her toes. They have her name on them. And Rick leant her his hoodie. Rick shooed Yolanda away this morning and said he had something for her. And they’ve been maybe sorta kinda circling around feelings for each other for a pretty long time now. They’re absolutely for her!

Beth is floored. “I know, but…” She stares at the red roses in the front seat of the Mustang some more. Yep, they were still there. Rick fights to control the flush spreading over his cheeks. Beth finds herself accepting them when he gently pushes the bouquet into her arms.

“I know you’re not my girlfriend or anything. I was just thinking…Maybe you could be?” The second half of his sentence ends up coming out more like a question.

“You want me to be your girlfriend,” Beth echoes dumbly. She ducks her head into the bouquet and smiles like crazy. Was this for real?! “You can be my boyfriend?”

“Only if you want,” Rick adds quickly, losing confidence. “You can keep the roses either way. You’re still my best friend.” When Beth didn’t say anything he clears his throat. “But I really like you, Beth.”

“I really like you too,” she says shyly, meeting his eyes. And holy heck when has Beth ever been one to sound shy? “I wasn’t sure if it was just me.”

“It’s not just you,” he says. He settles into the driver’s seat, rubbing the back of his neck like he doesn’t know what to do now that she’s said they could make something of what they have. “Um. Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Beth says back. She leans over and presses a kiss to Rick’s cheek. “Thank you for the surprise.”

He shoots her another smile. One of his real ones.

“So tomorrow morning can be a date!” Beth says excitedly. “I know you don’t like Jane Austin though--”

“I just feel like we deal with enough Victorian nonsense with The Shade.”

“Jane Austen is Regency.”

Rick rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Beth.”

“--So maybe it’s not a perfect first date but we can do something you like after class...” She trails off as Rick drives into the school parking lot, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him. “Wait...Did you agree to listen to me just because you like to hear me talk?”

“No.” His face goes red immediately. “Maybe.”

“Ha!” Beth kicks her feet. “You do!”

“Shut up.”

“You have a crush on my voice!”

“I have a crush on all of you!” Rick snaps, then looks mortified. He parks and crosses his arms, setting his jaw and staring straight ahead. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating for 3 minutes and you’re already making fun of me.”

“Aww,” says Beth. She unbuckles her seat belt and sets the flowers on top of the dashboard, leaning over to wrap her arms around his neck. His hoodie sleeves flood past her hands. The corner of Rick’s mouth lifts a bit. “I’m not making fun of you,” she promises. “I’m just really excited.” She licks her lips, realizing how close she is to Rick’s face. “Rick? Since I’m your girlfriend now...Is it okay to kiss you?”

Rick turns to look at her. She blinks. Then Rick’s hand is gentle on her face. And he kisses her, soft and very sweet.

Someone knocks on the Mustang window. The two jump apart. Beth clutches the bouquet of roses as a weapon. Rick, nearly about to throw hands.

“It’s just me,” says Yolanda once Rick slams hard on the button to roll down the window. “You’re going to be late for school.”

Beth awkwardly climbs over Rick’s lap to get out of his car. She shows Yolanda her flowers. “Aren’t they pretty?”

Yolanda smiles at her. “Yeah, he’s had that planned for a while, haven’t you, loverboy?” Rick steps on her boot. Yolanda gasps, shoving him in retaliation. She tilts her head at Beth. “Is that Rick’s hoodie? And where’s Court?”

“Dentist.” Beth grabs Rick’s hand as they make their way into the school, Yolanda following behind them. “And I think this hoodie’s now mine.”

#beth chapel #rick tyler #hournite #rick x beth #hn fic #tkv fic #fluff #holiday fic #valentine's day #stargirl

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dreamyzworldlove · 2 years

Text

And When I Touch You I Feel Happy Inside

By dreamy_world (me)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace Characters: Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Kayla Knowles Additional Tags: Nico di Angelo-centric, graphic depictions of hand holding, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Will Solace Angst, I am obsessed with that tag, Fluff, hand holding, My first fic, so please be nice, POV Nico di Angelo, Pre-Relationship, Marriage Summary:

Will’s hands were much softer than his, and certainly not as calloused, but there were tiny scars from when Will got heat blisters from over-using his healing powers. Nico had not neglected to tell Will what a hypocrite he was when Will told Nico what they were. Will’s hands were also a bit clammy, and if Nico was honest it was a tad too warm, but he didn't mind. Will's arm could be on fire and Nico would still hold his hand. or glimpses of Nico and Will's relationship told through hand holding

“Feel my hands, their shaking.”

The first time Nico Di Angelo held Will’s Solace’s hands was the worst possible moment. Nico had just come back from what was possibly the worst road trip in the history of road trips and instead of passing out for the next few days like his body was begging him to do he was trying to prevent the camp from being attacked by the Roman Legion. Or, he was before Will Solace decided to be the stupidest person alive.

What was he thinking, going on a scouting mission while preparing for war? There must a million things in the infirmary that needed to be done in preparation for said war, and surely Will wasn’t so stupid to not realize that if their best medic dies before the real battle begins they are incredibly, without a doubt, screwed.

Nevertheless, Will was there, in his stupid all black outfit (which Nico was adding to his ever growing list of reasons Why Will Solace Is An Idiot) and he was holding his hands out to Nico of all people. The only person that had even wanted to touch Nico in years was Hazel, his sister, much less someone who was practically a stranger.

Whether out of shock or lack of sleep Nico brought his hands up to Will’s, covering his hands with his own.

Will’s hands were warm, very clearly healer’s hands and had smudges of black on the tips, likely from applying the strips of paint found underneath his eyes. Nico felt a pulse of warmth emanate from his hands, unsure if it was a Will thing or a Child Of Apollo thing. Nico felt skeletal butterflies flutter in his stomach. Gods, Will was right, his hands were shaking intensely, another thing that screamed at Nico that Will should definitely not be here.

Even if Will was totally useless, and it could be argued that Will made that whole mission needlessly complicated, Nico couldn't help but think that he was glad that Will was there.

—————

The next time Nico held Will Solace’s hands they were blood stained.

It was a little while after Nico’s stay in the infirmary (which considering that slept for about half of his stay it wasn’t as bad as he initially thought it would be.) and after a lot of convincing from Solace that yes, he did want to be his friend Nico had found himself hanging around the makeshift hospital.

Things were finally returning back to normal, or what Nico assumed to be normal for Camp Half-Blood, he’s never stuck around long enough to find out. Something that came along with Camp returning back to normal was Capture The Flag. Nico had decided to opt out of this game because contrary to what some people believe Nico did in fact know his limits and shadow-traveling halfway across the world isn’t something you recover from quickly.

Nico had spent most of his day in his cabin (Capture The Flag wasn’t really a spectator sport) planning out what he wanted for the eventual renovation of his cabin, because there was absolutely no way in Hades the coffin beds could stay.

And no, Nico was definitely not waiting for the game to end so that he could talk to Will Solace, definitely not. So what if Nico was bored without the healer in his presence? After spending most of his free time with him for the last few weeks it's almost to be expected that he would notice the son of Apollo’s absence. And it was definitely definitely not because of Nico’s recently developed feelings for the healer. Nope, not at all.

Okay, maybe Nico was lying, but could you blame him? Yes, Will was pushy, and yes, Nico still thought Will was an idiot ,but he was also so fundamentally kind in a way that made Nico’s chest feel like it was about to burst. He liked talking to Nico, and more importantly he didn’t mind listening to Nico either.Not to mention how incredibly thoughtful Will was, always considering others before himself, and always making sure to spend time with Nico even when he was incredibly busy.

Speaking of busy, Will always had a lot to do after a game of Capture the flag. Even though campers weren't allowed to maim each other that didn’t stop the slew of injuries that came with each “friendly” battle. With how swamped Will usually was after games Nico figured that he could use the extra help, even if it was just cutting bandages. Definitely not because he wanted to see Will. With that, Nico started to head towards the infirmary.

Nico could immediately feel that the air in the infirmary was different. It felt stiff and cold, a far cry from how warm and lively the infirmary usually was.

It didn’t use to be that way. From what Will had told Nico when he inherited the infirmary, it was much like a regular hospital; sterile and impersonal. That wasn’t really Will’s style. With how many accident prone kids there were at camp, children were bound to have to stay in the infirmary at some point, and being injured is already an uncomfortable experience. The least that Will can do is try to make his patients feel more at home. With that the infirmary was filled with colorful posters, books lent from the Athena cabin, soft music playing, and plenty of (safe) activities for patients to do while they're healing.

The warm homey feeling that Will tried so hard to evoke was completely dispelled. It didn’t take a genius to realize that something was wrong. Nico scanned to infirmary, noting that there weren't too many injured campers before noticing that Will was nowhere to be seen.

Uh oh. If Will wasn’t in the infirmary when he thought that people needed him there had to be something seriously wrong. Nico searched for the nearest Apollo camper, Kayla, to ask about her brother’s whereabouts.

“Hey Kayla, do you know where Will is?”Nico asked.

She looked somber. “Will? Uh, I don’t know, he said he needed five minutes and left the infirmary.” Kayla responded.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Nico replies.

“I know you're looking for him but be careful, okay? He’s had a rough day.” She warns Nico.

“Okay, I will. Thank you, Kayla.”Nico thanks her one last time.

Nico now more than ever felt the need to find Will. He didn’t know the extent of it but seemed like Will was having a terrible day and could use some moral support. Nico wouldn’t necessarily classify himself as a comforting presence, but Will has always been there for him when he was in need and the least that Nico could do was offer that same support back.

In the end Nico didn’t have to go very far to find Will. He was sitting curled up behind the infirmary, his hands stained with red, looking as if he wasn’t really aware of his surroundings.

“Will?” Nico said, snapping Will out of whatever trance he was in.

“Nico? What are you doing here?” Will wondered still with a despondent look in his eye.

“The better question is what you're doing here, Sunshine. I came to find you at the infirmary and you weren't there.” Nico stated.

“Oh.” Will whispered. “It was just a bit much, that’s all.” He said, his usual enthusiasm gone from his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Nico said, unsure of himself. ‘But if you want to, you can talk about it with me. This friendship is a two way street you know?”

“Thanks, Nico.”Will smiled half heartedly before taking a deep breath, as if to steady himself.

“A patient died today.”

Nico felt his blood run cold. “Oh.”

“Yeah”, Will’s voice had begun to get all watery. It sounded like he was about to cry, but Nico didn’t see any tears fall.

“She- She was alone, her buddy was gone and she went too deep into the forest and there was a monster and–”, He paused, “ you can fill in the rest.”

Nico wishes he didn’t have to. Gods, this was terrible.

“She was rushed to the infirmary, and she was fighting for it, fighting for her life, but in the end I couldn’t save her.” Will’s voice warbles, cracking on the word her. His hands were shaking.

“No.” Nico said assuredly. “ You did your best.” Nico continued.

“But my best wasn’t good enough!” Will exclaims, the pain in his voice evident. “If I had gotten there faster, or if I was a better healer she could still be alive!”

Without thinking, Nico puts his hands over Will’s stained red hands. Will looked shocked for a moment but said nothing, waiting for Nico’s next move.

“Will, You and I both know that some deaths can’t be prevented, '' Nico finally says, squeezing Will’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve been living with this burden,Will. People’s lives shouldn’t have to be on your shoulders.”Nico said earnestly.

Will looks at Nico with big eyes, as if seeing something he hadn’t considered before, and breaks.

Next thing Nico knew he had his arms full of Will Solace, who was crying gently into his shoulder. Nico remembered what Bianca would do when he was upset, and started to trace circles into Will’s back, a soothing motion. The two of them just sat there for a while, Nico holding Will as he crumbled.

“Sorry for ruining your shirt.”Will sniffled after he had started to calm down.

“You’d do the same for me.” Nico stated matter of factly.

Will didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. He finally drew away, and Nico followed his eyes to where Nico’s hand was laying atop his red one.

“Hey, why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Nico suggested.

“I still have to go back to the infirmary” Will sighed, visibly dismayed.

“No you don’t.”

“But-”

“But nothing, I’ll talk to your siblings, I’m sure they can handle one day without you.”

“Okay.” Will said, giving in. It was a true testament to how terrible Will felt that he wasn’t arguing with Nico on this. For as long as Nico had known Will it was always hard to get him out of the infirmary to take a break.

“C’mon Sunshine, you can stay in my cabin tonight. We can even watch those movies you’re always talking about, Galaxy Wars right?”

Will sighs, but it's more playful than before. “ You mean Star Wars Deathboy?” Will corrects.

“Galaxy Wars, Star Wars, whatever, they're basically the same thing.” Nico responds, smiling slightly, happy that Will was feeling better. “Cmon, let's go.” Nico says, standing up, offering a hand to Will. Will takes it, interlocking their fingers and doesn’t let go until they reach the front steps of Cabin 13.

—————

Nico thinks he might be dying. That’s the only possible conclusion he could make. There’s nothing else that could explain the way his heart rate has shot up, or the fluttering in his stomach, or how he’s sweating more than he ever thought was possible or— the list goes on and on.

He’s probably not dying though. I mean, he would feel it right? At the very least Will would be able to feel it, what with his Vitalkinieis and the fact that he was holding Nico’s hand. Holy schist, Will Solace is holding Nico’s hand. Nico thinks that he might combust.

It's not like they've never held hands before; Will’s never been afraid of physical touch. However they’ve never held hands when it meant something to both of them.

Will was terrible at hiding his feelings for Nico. It was a pretty well known fact of Camp Half Blood, the lake was blue, don’t mess with Clarisse,Will Solace had a thing for the weird hades kid. No one dared to say anything about it, for fear of not getting healed the next time they get injured. Despite Will’s obvious feelings he never made a move; He knew that Nico had a lot of things to work through and thought that it was understandable for him to not want a relationship. Nico however, did want a relationship, a relationship with Will.After weeks of pining Nico eventually confessed and they spent the rest of the night talking and swapping stories until the sun came up.

Will’s hands were much softer than his, and certainly not as calloused, but there were tiny scars from when Will got heat blisters from over-using his healing powers. Nico had not neglected to tell Will what a hypocrite he was when Will told Nico what they were. Will’s hands were also a bit clammy, light energy pulsing from underneath his fingertips,(Nico had found out that this was, in fact, an Apollo thing.) and if Nico was honest it was a tad too warm, but he didn't mind. Will's arm could be on fire and Nico would still hold his hand.

Even though Nico was the one to initiate their relationship, he still had his worries. Coming from the 1930’s it’s hard to imagine that the world can be accepting of people like them. There was also the niggling feeling in the back of Nico’s head that this was too good to be true. Good things didn’t usually happen to Nico, and when they did, they didn’t stay for very long. Nico hoped that that wouldn’t be the case with Will.

Nico still held that fear, and he wasn’t sure what the future had in store, but as Nico felt Will squeeze his hand he had the unusual thought that everything might turn out alright, or at the very least he’ll be able to get through it with Will by his side.

——————

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Nico never thought that he would get to this point. After all that he had been through in his teen years it felt impossible to imagine that he would survive to the next year, much less 25. But against all odds he did, and now he was getting married to the love of his life.

Some may say that ten years is an awfully long time to wait to marry someone. Part of the reason of why it took so long was that gay marriage wasn’t legalized for the majority of their relationship, and Will had always dreamed of having his wedding on his grandparents farm in Texas, and Nico was never one to deny him.

The other reason is that they have been through a lot. Things haven’t always been perfect for them. Tartarus had put a great strain on their relationship, one that couldn’t be fixed with a snap of the fingers. It took a lot of work. And they put in that work because they loved each other. It was hard to imagine a world where they weren’t in each other's orbit. They continued that work through growing pains, through figuring out how to be adults, and through Will’s Med School Mental Breakdown. Don’t get Nico mistaken, just because their relationship took work didn’t mean it was a chore; Nico did it because he wanted to, because it was absolutely worth it to wake up to Will Solace (soon to be Di Angelo-Solace) every morning.

Will took Nico’s hand in his and delicately slid a wedding ring onto his finger. The band itself was fairly simple, a plain, dark, onyx ring, but on the inside it had the words Death Boy engraved to match with Will’s Sunshine on his own ring, an inside joke that never died out.

It still felt so surreal to Nico, like at any second he was going to wake up and realize that this was all a dream. Will squeezed his hand and beamed at him,Confirming to Nico that this was indeed happening.

“ With the power invested in me I now pronounce you husbands, You may kiss the groom.” The Officiant said.

Nico and Will didn’t need to be told twice.

So there, with all of their loved ones, the Di Angelo- Solace’s have their first kiss as a married couple, hands intertwined. Nico didn’t reminisce about the past or wonder about the future, he was just there in the present, holding his husband’s, (His husband’s!!!) hand.

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