#how did scott pull all those woman

[z5mbiegrlz]

i say the most basic things on letterboxd i swear 😔

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Summer Days

Kinktober 2024 - Day 20

Pairing: Young!Logan Howlett (X1) x Professor!Mutant!Fem!Reader

Kink: Edging

Word Count: 1700+

Summary: Logan hasn't made the first move, so you decide to.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, voyeurism, marking, creampie, multiple positions, slight d/s dynamics, edging), fluff, saps in love, soft!Logan, confindent!reader

a/n: This one got away from me because I didn't have a plan going into it, but I hope it all makes sense! I hope you enjoy it!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Logan couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you invaded his every sense, everywhere he went in the mansion, he saw you, smelled you, heard your voice. You were driving him crazy. You had helped Ororo and Scott rescue him and Rogue from Sabertooth and since then, he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. You were a professor, a very put together woman. Your hair always pulled up in a tidy hair do, always wearing professional clothes, the first time he saw you half asleep and in your pajamas was when Charles had their Sunday breakfasts. It was your only day to sleep in and you didn’t feel like getting all put together. He knew he was in love when he watched you eat your breakfast with Rogue and Ororo, a big smile on your face as you laughed through a bite of toast at something Rogue had said, and he was screwed.

In the middle of summer, the New York heat was getting to everyone. Logan was in his white beater and ripped jeans, small beads of sweat rolling down his neck as he took a walk around the campus. He stumbled upon you, doing yoga by the pond, you were in skin tight biker shorts, a white flowy tank top, and he could see your rainbow sports bra through the light fabric. Your hair was tied up in a tight bun as you stretched on your X-Men branded yoga mat. You had a radio next to you, playing classic rock as you moved into your next position. Logan thought he had died and this was his heaven, you looked like a goddess in the midday sun, sweat dripping down your neck and in between your breasts. 

You looked up and locked eyes with Logan and you gave him a bright smile, brighter than the sun itself in his opinion. “Hey, Logan! How are you?” You asked as you sat in a butterfly position, stretching out your hips.

Logan thanked that the heat had his cheeks already flushing so you couldn’t see him blush, “M’good. Just taking a walk.” He grunted and gave you a small grin. 

You smiled wider and stood up and dusted off your thighs, “Wanna join me? I can go grab another mat?” You offered with a gesture of your hand to the cart over by the basketball court. 

He shook his head, “Nah. If I try any of those poses, I’ll hurt myself.” He chuckled and you giggled softly at the thought and nodded. 

“Okay, well I’ll be out here again tomorrow if you wanna give it a try. Right now, a shower and a glass of wine are calling my name.” You smiled and picked up your mat, bending down in front of Logan and he had to keep himself from drooling. You rolled up the mat and patted Logan on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later, Lo.” You said before you walked away, setting the mat on the dirty cart for cleaning before making your way to your room. 

Your room was in the same hall as Logan’s and you two shared a bathroom. You weren’t stupid, you saw the looks Logan gave you, how his nostrils flared when you walked past, how his fists clenched if you did anything relatively sexual, you liked the game but you were getting tired of it. You stepped into the bathroom and noticed that the door to his room was slightly ajar and you got a naughty thought and decided to leave it open. You turned on the water and let it heat up while you undressed and stepped into the water. You let out a soft sigh as the water cascaded down your body, making your muscles loosen and your body relax. 

A few minutes into your shower, you heard Logan’s room door open then shut as he walked into his bathroom. You smirked softly as you heard him walk to the bathroom door but stop before the threshold, he saw you. You heard his soft gasp and gulp as he peered into the bathroom. You bit your lip and grabbed your body wash and your loofah. You squirted a bit onto the sponge and started lathering your bare body, making sure to linger on your ass and breasts, knowing that Logan was watching. You giggled to yourself before washing the soap off and you turned off the water once free of suds. You heard Logan’s footsteps retreat and you stepped out of the shower and grabbed your towel from the hook and you dried yourself off. You wrapped it around your body and walked to the door that led to Logan’s room and you knocked softly on the door. You heard a muffled reply and you nudged the door open to see Logan smoking a cigar by the open window and you smirked and bit your lip. 

“You know Charles doesn’t like you smoking in the house.” You fake pouted and you sauntered over to him, making gulp audibly. You took the cigar from him and took a puff of your own and let the smoke willow out of your mouth. “But then again, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You shrugged before you slammed your lips against his. 

His eyes went wide before he leaned into it and his large hands tangled in your hair and tugged you closer. You moaned softly at the slight pain of his fingers tugging on your hair. You slid into his lap, letting the towel fall away but then you were very aware of being next to an open window. You pulled away and he whined as you did so, “Lo, take me away from the window. I only want you to see me, not the whole courtyard.” You huffed softly and he chuckled softly and nodded before scooping you up without hesitation. 

He carried you to the bed and laid you out on the sheets, your bare body completely revealed to his hungry eyes. “Fuck, you are beautiful. So pretty.” He groaned as his large hands grazed over your mounds and down your body to your core and down your thighs. 

“Mm, I knew you were watching me.” You purred as he spread your thighs for him, revealing your dripping cunt to his eyes. He looked up at your face with hesitation written across his face, “Don’t, mm, worry. I enjoyed it.” You smirked and reached down to take his hands into your palms and pulled one up to your breasts and the other to your cunt. “Made me feel all sorts of turned on.” 

He groaned as his finger stroked through your wet folds, “So warm and wet. All for me, bub?” He asked with a smirk teasing his lips. 

You let out a moan and nodded as his middle finger circled your bud softly. “Of course. All for you.” You hummed and you grinded your hips down against his hand. His other hand groped and squeezed your breast in his large palm. You let yourself enjoy his teasing and toying of your body before you slid your legs around his waist and flipped you two over. Logan let out a small huff of surprise and you giggled and leaned up to kiss him passionately. His hands gripped your hips tight and pulled you down to grind against his jean clad bulge. 

“You’re making a mess, bub.” He groaned as the spot on his jeans grew dark with your arousal. You bit your lip before reaching down and stripping off his shirt before moving down to his jeans, as your lips attached themselves to his neck. He groaned as you bit and sucked on his salty skin, and he helped you take off his jeans and boxers in one movement. You bit your lip as his hard and leaking cock sprung up to hit his taut stomach. 

“You’re so fucking big, Lo.” You purred as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, your small hand making his cock look huge, you couldn’t even wrap your hand all the way around the base. 

He gave you a cocky smirk, “You’ll give me a complex.” He remarked and you rolled your eyes. 

“You already have one.” You giggled and you kissed him passionately and his hands moved down to lift you up enough so you could sink down on his cock. You let out a shaky moan as he filled you up completely, your clit nuzzled against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. You panted and moaned against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “F-fuck, ah, Logan. You’re so big. M’so full.” You whined and he leaned down to kiss and suck on your sensitive neck, making pleasure course through your veins. You felt your cunt pulse and clench as your hips started moving up and down on his cock, your thighs shaking with each movement. Logan gripped your hips and helped you up and down on his cock slowly, him grunting as your walls squeezed his sensitive shaft. 

You could feel the knot already tightening with each thrust and Logan knew it, “Not yet, bub. Wanna cum with you, but not ready for this to end.” He smirked as he rolled you two over with you on your side and him behind you and he hiked your leg over his arm as he slipped his cock back into you. You moaned at the new position which made his cock feel bigger than it was. 

“M’close, Lo. You feel so good.” You whimpered as you felt yourself being pushed to the edge but then Logan slowed down, taking you back from the edge. You whined and you turned your head to nuzzle into his neck and bite and suck on his tan skin, “Please, please.” You moaned with each thrust. 

He grunted and groaned as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep himself from cumming, not wanting this to end too quickly and his hands squeezed any expanse of skin he could get to. “Just a little longer. Want to savor this. Don’t want this to end.” He grunted and small tears welled in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through you. You didn’t want this to end anyway, you wanted Logan forever.

[rottweiler1]

❝𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝.❞

pairing: 141 x male!reader and maybe some los vaqueros + others

summary: the 141 needed a helping hand to protect the world, only 4 wasn't enough. they decided for a interesting 5th member. and seemingly, the 141's other allies were also intrigued.

word count: 582 (promise next ones longer!!)

cw: violence, normal cod gore, angst, poorly translated scottish from google

A/N: this is my first fanfic series so i will make a master list soon enough for this series. this series might only have maybe 10 parts i presume? either way, i hope you'll enjoy this series!! -rottweiler

1/?

part 1 -part 2 - part 3

❝FUCKING IFRINN.❞

After the mission of 141 was half bad and good, they did stop a army of terrorists to infiltrate the city of london but all of them got hurt. Soap was groaning as the medical nurse taking out the gun wound on his shoulder, a pulling it back sent a louder groan from the scott. And maybe he yelled 'fucking hell' in scott. Gaz had 3rd degree burn on his fingers from the bomb getting heated up, close to exploding the hell out of the city. Ghost got some teeth knocked off while fighting off the terrorists, his gun was kicked away from his grip so he had to do hand to hand combat. Price had an ankle sprain from running too fast for his teammates, slipping over with a crack to be heard. Possibly a grade 1.

❝ Captain, we'll never get close to the terrorists. the man gave us false intel.❞ Gaz said, interrupting the silence (apart from soap groaning..) that was made in the medical room. He was bandaging his fingers around, making some whines by the burn still affecting him. Price huffed out his cigar while had some bandaged over his ankle, glancing at the man with the cap. The captain groaned and pinched down his nose bridge, rubbing it from the headache he was on. The mission was still a undergo..

Ghost laid back against the chair that creaked under his large weight, balaclava over his face but with only above his nose. He had a ice pack in his mouth, some bruises on the sides of his cheeks, making him groan a bit from the cold hitching in his mouth. The captain himself got up before saying. ❝ Look, i will talk with Laswell from this. you all get some rest. ❞ All 3 nodded before resting down by the infirmary, The captain walked down the hall, the noise of his boots with his hat having a few holes, made him fucking angry to damage his hat. The captain opened the door to Laswell's office, The woman in her maybe 40's glanced up at the man with a frown. She has heard about the calls of the mission, staring at Price's damaged hat she then said. ❝I know your here to talk to me about the mission to London.❞

Price sat down and sighed out loudly, glaring at the table. ❝ I'm very much aware of that, Laswell. Those fuckin' assholes injured all my boys, including me. And my Fucking Hat.❞ Price said with rage, cold stoned eyes stare at Laswell's, Laswell then stared at Price in raged denial, The man thought it was an easy mission, but its been awhile since the mission was this vile. Laswell then said. ❝ I told you John, those terrorists were not like the other ones you've encountered.❞

Price stared at Laswell before slamming his fist on the table. ❝ SHOULD'VE TOLD ME THAT THEY HAD THEIR FUCKIN' HANDS ON A RPG AND BOXES FULL OF EM' BOMBS. THOSE PEOPLE WERE ON FUCKING STAKE.❞ Laswell stared at him, silent. ❝ I don't fucking mind if it was 6 or 7 people dead. BUT BUILDINGS SIDE BY SIDE WAS FUCKING GONE. IN SHAMBLES.❞ Price yelled as he was fed up, Standing up as he gripped his fist that was on the table, sitting back down slowly as he was disappointed in himself. How could he let that happen?

Laswell spoke up. ❝ Price, we can still try. The army might not be dead but you still saved people. ❞ Laswell then glanced over at the file drawers, she then got up before walking over to the drawers and opened them, taking out some files, at least 25 files. She placed them down on the wooden dark brown surface, sitting back down on her office chair and said: ❝ I think we need an add-on to the taskforce. ❞ Price glanced at her. raising a brow. ❝ An add on.. ❞ Price repeated once under his breath.. looking down at the files.

Price took the files and sighed, Laswell was right. These 4 man missions weren't always easy. and by that, getting hurt lots but a 5th hand doesn't sound like a bad idea. ❝ These are the newest recruits that past selection. Take your time, John.❞ Price then stumbled across a file, building up a smirk on his face.. This one was a big powerhouse.

file;

(Y/N) (L/N).

AGE; (A/N. age number)

COUNTRY; (C/N.)

CALLSIGN; Dino.

That's all price needed to know. ❝ Are you interested in Dino? ❞ Laswell asked before crossing her arms, staring at the man viewing the file with a smile. ❝ I've heard of him.❞ Dino was usually an add on or a solo, Making price saying. ❝ I'll take Dino into the team.❞ Laswell stared before nodding, Dino was a professional sniper.. With his large height and muscular frame, maybe he would be good use. Laswell then said. ❝ I'll call them in tommorow if your free enough.❞ Price happily nodded, getting his hands on such powerhouse.. rumors were the Dino was taller then a door.. The reason they called him Dino was because of those slit pupils of his.. his unbearable scratching, once ripped someone's ear off.

The next day, Dino was then called in by Laswell, walking through the hall with whispers from other soldiers, stepping aside for the giant to walk through. Dino then got in the office with a grunt, the doors were a bit small for him to stand straight and walk to. ❝ Hello.. Are you Laswell. ❞ Laswell turned around as Price stared at the giant in disbelief.. that motherfucker was a whole building. Laswell then said. ❝ Yes, i am Laswell. I've decided to pair you up into a taskforce as a 5th member. You recall the phone call? ❞ Dino then nodded before turning his eyes to the man who stared at him. ❝ This is your captain, Captain price. ❞

Price stood there.. he then got to reality before reaching out his hand and cleared his throat, talking in a calm manner. ❝ Nice to meet' ya, Dino.❞ Dino shook the captains hand being bigger then his, Price then grunted quietly from the heavy shake. He took his hand away, so did price. ❝ John price will escort you to your other teammates, Your mission will be coming up in the 20th.❞ Laswell explained as Dino nodded again, following price down the hall. He got quite the looks from the soldiers, a shocked expression.

Price then looked at Dino with a grin, opening the door to the meeting room that price has assigned his teammates to wait in. Dino got through the door frame before getting looks. ❝Who.. the fuck? ❞ Gaz stared in disbelief. ❝ O shit, is e togalach fucking slàn a tha sin! ❞ (oh shit thats a whole fucking building!) Soap yelled in shock. Ghost had no words.. the man was taller then him, The ghost huntsman itself.. had a dinosaur as a teammate.

Dino stared.. his appearance was his military gear and with the yellow spikes on his back that were sharp to resemble a dinosaur sort of looking spike. Making him look stoned and sharp-minded. Price then spoke up.

❝ You boys fuckin' behave cause hes your new teammate, Dino. ❞

[pikablu410]

His Mayoral Duties

“Mayor Bradley! How do you feel now that you’ve just won a second term in office with a surprise landslide victory?!” A man with a microphone asked.

“I’m honored the people of Stocksville have chosen me to lead them again. I’m excited to get back in my office and make changes for the better.” The man confidently said, adjusting his casual yet sleek blue suit. He combed over his curls with his hand to make sure they weren’t frizzled.

“Mayor! To what do you contribute to such a meaningful success?” A blonde woman in a red suit nearly jumped out of the crowd. She, of course, was talking about how a black man, like himself, was the first to win a reelection as mayor in Stocksville.

“I think my policies speak for themselves. Our economy is doing better, crime is at an all time low and people are content with their lives in the city.” The mayor confidently responded.

“And mayor, what do you have to say to those who believe your victory was the result of fraud?” A man asked before being pushed back into the crowd.

If the people had known him personally, or had studied his body language, they would’ve known Scott staggered for a brief moment before responding. “I ask that they wait for the voting office to put out their data, and, for now, work with me in making progress towards a better Stocksville.” He smiled.

“How could they have known?! I was completely certain it would be a secret-” A man with shaggy brown hair walked back and forth before being interrupted by Scott.

“Just shut up! I know my office isn’t rigged with cameras or mics I’m not aware of. There’s no way it could’ve gotten out.” He said, leaning forward onto his desk. 

“Then how would they have known we used dark ma-” Scott almost literally zipped the man’s lips this time.

“Roger. There is absolutely, assuredly, zero reason for people to believe we did anything suspicious other than their own conspiratorial beliefs. We have done nothing wrong, and there’s no proof otherwise.”

Roger wiped the sweat from his neck, “Well…”

Scott glared, “Roger.”

“I’m not saying I kept the book, but-”

“Roger!” Scott growled. A rarity for him.

“What if I need a demon for a hot chick or something? You never know.” Roger, now much more casually, admitted.

“If by ‘demon’ you mean ‘advice’ then sure, but you definitely don’t mean what you said literally, right?” Scott said, with a thick emphasis on the sarcasm.

“Relax Brandon, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure there’s no negative side effects.” Roger started, “You did do what the de- what the advice told you to do, right?”

Brandon sighed, pulling out the greasy takeout bag, “Yeah, I bought a burger after I won. I really don’t get how this was equivalent to whatever that…advice did.” 

He took a large bite out of the burger, finding the taste divine. Scott quickly took another, and then a sip of his soda.

“Woah, slow down their champ. Just because you won doesn’t mean you can’t get sick from eating like that.” Roger advised, but it seemed Brandon wasn’t listening.

“Mmph, sorry,” Scott swallowed the last of his burger, “I don’t know why, but that was the best burger I’ve ever had from McTasties.” Finishing his soda and the fries, Scott went on, “I think I’m gonna get another. They must’ve changed their recipe or something!” 

Roger noticed how Scott wiped the grease onto his blue suit, which, thanks to the dark color, didn’t detract much from it. However, he thought back to how Brandon got pissed off when he spilled water onto a similar suit. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home. Call me if you need anything not politics related.” Roger said, the drawstrings of his green and gray hoodie flipping through the air. 

Despite his calm demeanor, Roger was still thinking about his friend’s behavior. Just what was it that they had summoned the night before?

“Destiny! Two more orders of McTasties double cheeseburgers. One with fries and one with onion rings. Of course I want two milkshakes!” Scott said over his newly installed desk microphone. He had gotten tired of constantly walking down to ask her to order him more food. 

“Right away Mayor Bradley. Oh, city council wanted me to notify you that they’re meeting for ordinance 5507 in 10 minutes.” Destiny replied.

Scott smiled and thanked Destiny. He slowly sat up from his chair and walked over to his mirror. His stomach bulged against the white undershirt and blue suit he adorned. A ketchup stain marked the white and a grease one the blue suit. It had been a stressful…2 weeks in office. Scott hadn’t taken the time to think about how he had gained weight so quickly, or how fast time had gone by. 

Regardless, Scott decided to head down to the council room and wait for his colleagues there. 

Opening his doors, he found an unwanted surprise.

“Scott! I really need to talk to you ri-” Roger nearly shouted.

“Can it wait? I have McTasties and a council meeting waiting for me downstairs?” Scott replied, rolling his eyes.

“I really don’t think you should. I’m not sure how much longer you have?” Roger panicked, welcoming himself into Scott’s office.

Raising an eyebrow, Scott now fully entered the conversation, “What, do I have a disease or something?” “You might as well! You know that ‘advice’ we summoned the other night?” Roger asked, using his hands to sign quotation marks in the air, “Well, apparently that deal was just its way to get ahold of you.”

“Wait, you mean I’m possessed?” Scott scoffed at his own words.

“Basically! It’s like an infection,” Roger opened the book Scott had berated him for 2 weeks ago, “The longer you don’t treat it, the more it affects you. This weight you’ve gained isn’t natural.” Roger poked Scott’s belly to emphasize his point, Scott smacking his friend’s hand away.

“So what, I've gained a few pounds. I’ve been stressed and cooped up in this office, I’ll be fine.” Scott said, stifling a belch.

Roger looked at his friend with glazed eyes, “You’ve barely done anything but eat McTasties and watched how the media is praising your election.”

Scott didn’t want to admit it, but as he looked at the greasy takeout wrappers on the floor, Roger was right. He hadn’t done much other than eat and pass a few laws that were already in the works before he was elected. But then, a lightbulb.

Well, a buzz on his desk microphone.

“Mayor Bradley. City council is meeting in 5 minutes now. Also, your McTasties is here.” Destiny rang.

Now with a smug look, Scott smiled at Roger, “I’m actually in the process of passing a new city ordinance right now. And you’re making me late. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Scott then headed down the hall and towards the city council. Roger looked at the book and sighed. At least this wasn’t going to ruin his life. He hoped.

Entering the city council meeting room with his two bags of McTasties, Scott settled in before the last of the council members arrived. Immediately digging into one of the cheeseburgers and fries, the other city council members stared in shock. 

“Uhm, Mayor Bradley. Mayor Bradley!” An older council member nearly shouted.

“Hmm? What is it?” Scott replied, licking ketchup off of his fingers.

“We’re starting our meeting…is it truly necessary for you to eat your lunch during our meeting?” The older man inquired.

“Oh, I’m almost done with it,” Scott casually replied, sucking down his milkshake, making a loud slurping sound in the process, “You all should try it sometime. Now, where were we?” 

The following months saw historic change for Stocksville. Probably in the most insipid way possible. Ordinance 5507 gave more freedom to “inexpensive food companies” that was cited to help “impoverish citizens attain a more consummate meal.” 

In reality, Scott just wanted more McTasties near city hall and his house, both of which now had 2 within a block. 

Not that Scott walked to the fast food restaurant, but it certainly alleviated the weight on his employees. Though, it didn’t relieve weight in other areas. Within those months, the Bradley office staff had all put on at least 70 pounds of fat. Dozens upon dozens of McTasties orders came to the office each day, a majority of them coming from Scott himself. 

Speaking of the mayor, he had gone up 3 suit sizes in the several months following ordinance 5507, which of course was followed by ordinance 5508, 5509 and 5512. All of which gave the McTasties company more power in Stocksville. 

None of this caused the Bradley office any concern because, like Scott, they had all become addicted to the greasy junk. Seemingly overnight, the town had transformed into some Las Vegas for greasy restaurants. A competitor, Patty’s Burgers, was on the rise and produced even more restaurants for Scott- for the Stocksville citizens to order from. 

Though, not all hope was lost for the town.

“Scooooooottttt!” A man with shaggy brown hair shouted down the hall. The guards were too fat and lazy to stop him from bursting into Scott’s office. “Scott, I’ve found out how to solve this- what the hell happened to you?!” 

The mayor’s first response with a burp, followed by him trying to sit upright in his chair.

“Do you mind, URP, Roger? I’m trying to eat my pre-lunch snack?” Scott replied, taking a chomping bite out of a burger that looked much too large for human consumption. 3 more bags were filled with food next to him on the desk, Roger being able to tell they were filled because he couldn’t take a step in the office without his legs brushing up against an empty one.

“How fucking fat have you gotten? Do you realize what this is all from? That “advice?”” Roger, again, emphasized the word advice.

Scott slurped down a soda before literally dumping a carton of fries into his gaping maw. “What, the fucking demon? Yeah, whatever. Like anyone believes that shit.” He let out a very noticeable fart before going back to chowing down on a burger.

Roger noticed his friend’s new dialect. “Dude, since when did you swear? I thought you had to uphold an image or something.” 

“Yeah, what-fucking-ever. People are so happy with all the McTasties, and now Patty’s! Who cares if I fucking swear!” Scott said with a little too much enthusiasm, finding himself wedged between his office chair, “Damn, this thing is getting old.” “Uhh, yeah. Anyways, I’ve figured out how to stop all this and get back to normal. All you have to do is eat some vegetables and fruit, lose a bit of weight and the possession should slowly go away. If that doesn’t work we’ll need a priest and-” “Bro, you’re actually still on this possession thing? I told you, I’m in complete control.” Scott said, taking a final bite out of his burger. 

Then, a squeak was heard, followed by a snap and then Scott falling to the ground. Rips could be heard behind the desk as the mayor sat behind his desk.

“Fuck…that actually felt kinda good.” Scott mumbled to himself.

Roger, however, was much more worried, “Dude! Are you alright?!” He went behind Scott’s desk to help his friend up.

He immediately noticed that one of the buttons on his suit had burst off from the fall, leaving a portion of Scott’s belly wide open to the public. As he helped heft his friend up, Roger noticed that Scott’s pants were now torn at his thighs, exposing a significant amount of cellulite. After helping Scott up, the fat man waddled to the mirror in his office. 

“Damn, I don’t look too bad.” Scott admired himself. Roger hadn’t taken the time to notice in his rush to save his friend, but as his friend looked on in the mirror, he really saw how far Scott’s appearance had fallen. The once well-shaved man now had a scruff that was forming a goatee, and the same furry situation could be said for his now-exposed belly. His suit was tattered with stains, and had torn in places Scott hadn’t even noticed. 

“Scott I really think you should reconsider-”

“Roger, my time in office has been incredibly successful. Employment is at an all time low. People who were starving in the streets now have homes and food! Public transportation goes all over the city and our economy is thriving and healthy. All because I’ve invested in McTasties and fast food restaurants.” Scott went on, looking over the city, then back at Roger, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your extra weight too.” He poked Roger in his belly, to which the pale man sheepishly backed off.

“Just listen to me dude, I think something is really wrong. I mean, how did you even convince the city council to get all of this done? Aren’t they notorious for stopping all your ideas?” Roger asked.

Scott smiled devilishly, braggin, “They attributed it to my “charisma.” They’ve really fallen for me.” He walked over to Roger and put his arm around his friend, “Look me in the eyes when I tell you this, Roger.”

Listening to his friend, Roger looked into Scott's eyes, but they weren’t Scott’s. They glowed a deep red, and were almost…hypnotizing.

“Go get yourself some McTasties on your way home. Tell them it’s on me, they’ll cover it.” Scott ordered, very persuasively. 

Roger couldn’t help but slowly nod his head and turn around to leave Scott’s office. He could really go for a McTasties burger.

The next month saw Mayor Bradley’s only roadblock in his reign of ordinances. A group called “Alternatives for Health” rose to political distinction as a, you guessed it, alternative to Scott’s campaign. Not that there would be an election any time soon, but they aimed to rally support against all of the fast food-centric regulations that had recently been put in place. Lobbying Scott’s office near daily, they would’ve annoyed the hell out of any other group in office.

But, by this point, Scott’s staff had grown too fat and tired to care. 

“URRRRRP, Desti-URRRRRRP. Destiny, where’s m’ damn order of fries?” A sweaty, double-chinned, bearded face mumbled over the desk microphone. When there wasn’t a response in 5 seconds, he repeated himself. “Destiny! URRRRRP, I need m’ afta’noon snack!” 

“It’s, URP, on its way now. Sorry, thought it was for me.” A voice that was distinctly deeper than it was 4 months ago replied. 

Just then, several bags of greasy food then came elevated up through a small nightstand-like desk. Grumbling as he slowly stood up from a wider chair, the fat mayor waddled to the bags of food. Not bothering to waddle back to his desk, he plopped his fat ass down on the ground and started devouring the food. 

“God…this ain’t gonna be enough…it’s sho good…gonna need more…” Scott trailed off, plowing through the food like he had the littered takeout bags in his office. Sweat poured down his barely clothed body, pooling into the rolls that were made from hours of eating. A white wifebeater and black basketball pants were what Scott adorned, since nothing else fit and he had to keep up “public decency,” whatever the hell that was.

A voice annoyingly came through his microphone desk.

“Mayor you, URRRRRP, have a visitor.” Destiny rang.

Grumbling again, the mayor heaved his beanbag-esq belly off the ground and waddled back to his oversized chair.

“Send ‘em up!” Scott said, farting as he settled back into his chair. Just moving across the room had gotten him drench in his own salty perspiration. He rubbed his hairy, sweaty belly to coax out more gas before his visitor arrived. Though, he figured he already knew who it was.

“URRRP, Scott, I got more sco-URRRRRP-op on that health group.” Roger barged in. The trip to McTasties a month ago had treated Roger well. Some might’ve said a little too well. But Scott said it hadn’t treated him well enough, and sent his friend back for more.

“Good man! Whadda they want? URRRRRRP” Scott belched out, not bothering to stop eating. 

Pulling out a bunch of graphs and research papers, Roger messily placed them all over Scott’s desk.

“So basically, URRRRP, ‘scuse me. Basically they’re tryna’ prove that bein’ fat is bad. Apparently it raises your chance for “heart disease” and “cholesterol related illnesses” but I haven’t heard of anyone hospitalized for those things recently.” Roger explained.

Scott’s brain was still trying to process the papers in front of him. Months ago these would’ve made sense, but for some reason he could barely comprehend the words. Words like ‘arthritis,’ ‘artery,’ and ‘high fructose’ were hard to read. Almost like he was realizing his descent into slobdom, Scott almost put the pieces together.

That was, until Roger shoved the straw to a milkshake in his mouth.

“Ya looked starved. Thank god I brought more McTasties.” Roger said, with Scott eagerly reaching for the bags with his sausage arms. 

Roger rubbed his own exposed, pale belly that pushed out underneath his green hoodie. Surprisingly, the same hoodie from 4 months ago still fit the growing lard boy, but he was too addicted to the junk most of Stocksville ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner to be bothered to notice.

“So,” Scott pause for a monumental fart, “Heh, that was a nice one. Anyways, what’re we talkin’ about?” 

“This, uh, health group.” Roger explained.

“Oh yeah, how do we get rid of them? They’re gettin’ in the way of me buildin’ more McTasties.” Scott shoveled another handful of onion rings into his mouth. Roger couldn’t even tell what was grease and what was sweat on the man’s face.

“Jus’...lemme handle it.” Roger smiled, with Scott appreciating the simple reply. “How’s the move goin’?” 

Processing the question, Scott remembered he had ordered the leanest of his staff to move his home necessities to his office. 

“Awesome dude! I got a TV and internet, so I’m basically set. All I need is a personal McTasties and I’d never have to leave.” Scott replied, his rolls and moob jiggling as he went to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

“Sounds like the next ordinance at city council.” Roger smirked.

Scott belched and threw an empty milkshake cup into the trash pile that littered the room. “Oh, I disbanded that. They all got too lazy to come. So now they put their trust in me to make the laws.”

Roger’s eyes perked up at those words. “You’re just telling me now?!” Scott let out more gas and continued to eat, “Sorry, forgot I guess.” 

Roger went over to Scott and leaned against his a fat roll.

“My friend, it’s a good thing you’ve started moving; I don’t think you’ll be leaving your office for a while.”

“Whaddare they sayin’? M’ fuckin’ tits r’ blockin’ m’ vision.” A fat blob of a man whined. 

“Hold on Scott I gotta turn up the volume.” A less fat, but still incredibly massive, man replied. The less fat man placed a milkshake in between the blobbish man’s moobs, with the latter eagerly sucking down the contents of the cup.

“Roge-URRRRRRRRRRRP. Whaddare they sayin’ damnit!” Scott whined again, finishing the milkshake in record time. 

Roger smirked and smacked Scott’s immense belly, “You’ve got no opposition m’ friend. You’re running unopposed next election.” 

The wide man forgot to mention how he had gotten a few of the skinnier interns to infiltrate Alternatives for Health’s own office and sneak McTasties into their diet. A combination of this and tactically cutting off their funding so fast food was all they could afford spiraled to a quick downfall of their opposing organization. Scott let out a fart from the pressure on his belly, smiling nonetheless. “Thas…URRRRRRPP…fuckin’ awesome.” He unabashedly stated. 

“Still it’ll be Stocksville’s first mayor who’s a human blob. And I don’t think it’ll be the last.” Roger stated, planting a kiss on Scott’s greasy lips.

Scott let out more gas, drool and more greasy getting into his beard, “Huh? Did ‘m new order come yet?” Scott had gotten a one-track mind. Which might have been a good thing had he not been corrupted with greasy takeout. The naked blob of a man now never left his office. Not that he could, given his recent immobility in the past month. His thighs were as thick as a hog plumped for a Christmas dinner, leading to an ass that was as large as his belly just months ago. Whenever the man moved, either to let out gas, to try to see the TV, or, recently, to pleasure himself, his entire body jiggled as if shockwaves were sent through him.

Arms hung uselessly at his sides, sitting on rolls upon rolls of fat. His face was basically just his unkept goatee, his several chins, greasy, and sweat. Oh christ the sweat. It was as if Scott had constantly come back from a workout at the gym, but his workout was simply processing thoughts and eating his McTasties meals. It got tangled in his hairy body and made the entire office smell like a sports locker room.

“Scott, ‘m back with your pre-pre-brunch snack!” Roger reassured the massive man. 

Roger hadn’t faired much better after being ‘convinced’ by Scott to try McTasties. He was also shirtless, but wore underwear that had definitely seen better days. Just their yellow coloring and greasy stains were enough to paint a detailed picture. His gut rested over these underwear, looking like a dad who had recently gotten divorced and hit the liquor store too much, though with a more jiggly belly. He looked like Scott did just months ago, which didn’t bode well for his future. “Anything I can get for ya while I’m up babe?” Roger asked, opening his phone to see the news about Alternatives for Health.” The two had started dating because of what Scott again contributed to his “charisma.” They were basically inseparable now, Roger serving at Scott’s beck and call.

“Actually, fuck, yeah.” Scott said through mouthfuls of food, “Call in ‘n intern an’ suck me off.” Giving a knowing smile, Roger leaned against his massive boyfriend’s belly. He slowly got on his belly and crawled under Scott’s massive belly. They had done this enough times that Roger knew where to go in the sweaty expanse.

As an intern walked in and started to feed Scott, the immense man started to let out some affirming swears. Roger knew he found his goal.

“URP, Mayor Bradley, what will you do to, uh, ya know, make sure our city stays great?” An interviewer asks over a video call.

“I’ll, uhm, URRRRRRRRP, uh, yeah.” Scott replied.

They were all too fat to do professional interviews in-person anymore. Not that it mattered. They only had one choice anyways. Thank god they weren’t doing this in-person anyways. Scott barely fit in frame on the Zoom call. He barely fit in his office anymore. An amalgamation of sweaty, hairy fat. 

“Great response, babe.” Roger egged his boyfriend on. He was nearing immobility too, struggling to get up and feed Scott nowadays. The interns took care of that for them.

The interviewer, clearly struggling to paint Mayor Bradley in a good light, asked another question. “To what do you contribute your, URRRRRP, successes.”

Scott nearly went cross-eyed. He let out a far that was audible on camera before responding. “More, URRRRRRRRRP, McTasties. Thas what’ll do!” He slurred.

The interviewer smiled and said, “Excellent idea!” 

“They should, PFFFFFFFFFTTTTT, vote fa’ me jus’ ‘cus ‘m hot.” Scott gobbled down multiple burgers after the interview. Grease splattered all over him, and the walls. And his rolls. And his tits.

“That’s a gr-URRRRRRRRRRP-great idea babe!” Roger continued to egg on the massive man. 

It was a wonder nobody realized how their demon, oh sorry, ‘advice’, had caused all of this. Roger didn’t do a very good job at hiding the evidence once he got a bite of McTasties.

If anyone had the brains to realize what was going on, they’d know their mayor hadn’t any.

That was okay, though. A quick bite of McTasties would fix their worries. Thank god they were expanding to other cities nearby.

[luv-elixir]

❧ Body Electric ☙

Stepfather Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word count : 7.4K

18+ Content warnings : Stepcest, manipulation, power imbalance, naïve/insecure reader, age gap, corruption, c*m-fetish, slight size kink, slapping, spitting, degradation, stepdad!Leon, stepdaughter!reader, reader has a tiny electra complex. (Slight mentions of reader being verbally abused by mother along with mommy/daddy issues.) Porn with plot.

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN BELOW; ALL THAT IS WRITTEN IS PURE FICTION AND FANTASY!

Summertime was always a weird time for you.

When you were a child, your parents would just send you off to a camp to avoid dealing with you for a while, and when you were sent back home, you’d hide in your room while they fought for hours on end.

Even after they got divorced, the arguments seemed to never end. A constant battle over who would have the responsibility of caring for you all summer finally being settled when your grandmother offered to take you in until the season was over.

Now, as a university student, you would be spending your summer at your mother and her new husband, Mr. Kennedy's, home.

Interactions with both your parents had been scarce when you started university. You simply just didn't have the time or energy for them to berate you with your hectic schedule. It was no surprise to hear your mother had been dating; with your father getting married a few years prior and her having a few boyfriends here and there, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about her love life. You did start caring when she told you she was engaged.

It came as a huge shock when you finally met the mystery man.

He was handsome.

Everything about him was striking; he was an Adonis, simply too beautiful to be human. So beautiful that you nearly forgot your mother was right there and that the only reason you met was because he was to marry her.

How could your mother draw a man like him into her iron-clad grip? He was charming, caring, attentive, conscientious, and frankly too good for a woman like her, or anyone for that matter. Leon Scott Kennedy was simply too good to be true.

You truly had no idea how they had gotten into a relationship. Hell, you didn't even know your mother wanted to get married again. It was all a huge question mark for you. The only thing you were sure of was his name, age, and your affinity for him.

The wedding happened exactly three months after you met. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the sinful thoughts you had as they married. He just looked so handsome in his suit that you couldn’t help but fantasize about his big hands touching you, ignoring the wedding band tying him to your mother.

Laying in bed that night, furiously rubbing your aching clit, you moaned his name and thought of how you wished he was yours instead of your mother's. But more importantly, you tried to pull your head out of the clouds and make yourself remember that it would never happen.

Little did you know that all those countless nights you spent fantasizing about him, he was thinking of you too. It was his fucking honeymoon and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Jerking himself off, thinking of your alluring face and delicate body. He couldn’t resist using the image of a little beauty like yourself to get him off, even while the beauty’s mother slept right beside him…

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You are so fucking naive and clueless to not realize how obvious you were being with your crush on your stepfather. It was clear as day to any man who had ever been lusted over that you liked Leon more than a stepdaughter should.

Of course Leon knew; he knew from the moment he saw that shyness show up in your beautiful eyes when he first introduced himself that you had a crush, and damn, he is more than happy about it.

Every time his precious stepdaughter and his wife left home he would snoop through his sweet angel's room. It started out small—just quick peeks, leaving everything alone—but overtime it began to escalate.

Leon only does it because he cares; he wants to make sure his precious baby is happy and isn’t getting into any trouble. At least that was his justification. He knew you were quite a covert girl; being raised Catholic and raised by sanctimonious (hypocritical) parents, you were never one to step out of line, fearing the wrath of your parents. Being sent to an all-girls Catholic school, your interactions with boys and men had been few and limited; he was sure the only friends you had who were boys were your family members. You were hardly ever allowed to go out without the supervision of your mother, but it still didn’t hurt to check. After all, you are now one of his responsibilities.

When Leon would go through your drawers to see the clothes you hid from your mother that you bought at cheap second-hand stores, knowing that she would scream and berate you for owning a skirt that goes above the knee, he would imagine how beautiful you must look in them and how happy you must be wearing something you truly liked, even if you could only wear it in the safety of your room; it made his heart flutter.

His favorite thing to do in your room was to read your diaries. He thought it was so adorable how you kept every single one that you’ve ever had. It was a big invasion of privacy, but you didn’t even bother to hide your most recent one, and he just couldn’t resist. Reading them was exhilarating; learning more about you and what goes on in your little head made him feel closer to you. Leon just wants to know so he can protect you better, understand you better, and learn to love you better.

He thought it was adorable how you’d write about almost every interaction he’s ever had with you, like the time he bought you your favorite singer's vinyl records and a Polaroid camera after you asked your mother if you could buy them yourself a few days prior and she refused to let you. You jumped into his arms, hugging him with all your heart and giving him infinite ‘thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy’s." It was the touchiest you’ve ever been with him, and your perfume lingers on the shirt he has tucked away, refusing to wash your scent from it.

One of Leon’s favorite diary entries of yours was the one where you first met. He loved it so much that he snapped a photo of it just so he could read it whenever he wanted.

February 1st

I just got back from dinner with mom and her fiancé, Leon Kennedy <3 I called him Mr. Kennedy all night even though he insisted I call him Leon cause I got so nervous and just couldn’t look him in the eye. He was so freaking handsome, he has the prettiest eyes. I never thought a man could be so handsome. It’s not fair how mom has him, she doesn’t deserve him. Gosh he’s just so handsome, I wanted him to just take me in his arms and kiss me like in the movies !!! I hate that his heart belongs to mom, how come she gets to have a man like Leon instead of some ugly fat bald dude ?? I know it’s so wrong but I can’t help but like him, he was so nice to me tonight my heart is still pounding. He even gave me a nickname ! He said I look like a doll and called me doll face more than my name, gosh my heart is fluttering just thinking about it !!! If anyone finds out I’ll just die, this is so so so wrong but I can’t help it. I know he’s going to be my stepfather but I want him to look at me with his pretty eyes, I want him to hold my hand, I want him to be the one to hold me, I want him to say I love you to me, I want to be the one marrying him instead of my contemptible mother !!! I know it’s perverse and dirty but I wish he wanted me instead of her.

Leon loved it. He loved seeing the vicious, possessive, dirty side of you.

What he loved even more was reading your entries about how much you wanted him to love on you, even if it was rather on the innocent side. Just something about you writing down your fantasies made his cock stir, reading things like-

May 26th

I’ve been with mom and Leon for 2 days, my stuff is all moved into the house and it basically looks the same.

I saw Leon <3 and mom through the kitchen window while I was reading in the backyard kissing and he had his hand on her neck but then she yanked it away and rolled her eyes before leaving. If I were her I’d let him do what he wanted to me. If I knew how to french kiss I’d do it with him all the time, let him wrap his hand around my neck while I sit in his lap and just french kiss for hours. All my friends have done it before but I’ve only gotten the tiniest of pecks. I know it’s sinful to like my stepdad but fantasy never hurt anyone ??

-Leon would teach you how to french kiss and so much more.

Digging through your panty drawer, his eyes widened. Instead of seeing your usual cotton underwear with cute patterns, he instead saw a pair of lace white panties with a pink bow at the bottom of the drawer as an attempt to hide it away. This was clearly meant to be a set of sorts. He felt his heart nearly burst as he sifted through your bras to get to the bottom, only to find the matching white lace bra with a pink bow in the middle.

Why the fuck did you have these?

Was there someone you were going to wear them for?

He needed answers and he needed them now. He hadn’t read your diary yet so he hoped that the answer could be in there. Snatching it from your desk, his eyes frantically scanned through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

June 3rd

Mom let grandmother take me out shopping with her and I had a really good time !! I do miss spending summers there but getting to see Leon makes up for it hehe :) I really do wish mom would let me see grandmother more often though. She took me to the mall and she got me a bikini and a pair of actual proper lingerie !!! I know it might be weird for her to buy me that but she told me every girl needs a proper pair and mom would kill me if I asked her and I just wanted to have something to make me feel pretty even if no one knows I have it. It feels good to be a little more normal, it sucks that all the other girls get to show off their pretty swimsuits and wear pretty lingerie while i look like a chump in my stupid one piece bathing suit and stupid cotton underwear and ugly bras. Mom says it’s gross to have these things even though I saw the receipt from a lingerie store on the table right before her honeymoon, what a hypocrite. I had to sneak it in wearing both the bikini and bra under my normal clothes haha, I’m even wearing my new garments as I’m writing this. I think I’ll even change into my bikini in a little bit just for fun. It was a good day :).

Jesus you are so fucking cute

Relief washed over him instantly, but his heart cracked. You're such a beautiful girl, and you didn’t even know it. He saw the way boys and men would look at you; he even saw the jealousy in your own mother's eyes. How did you not know that you were drop-dead gorgeous? With beauty like yours, you could wear rags and still be the most beautiful thing to walk the earth. You looked exactly like a doll, you didn't need lingerie or bikinis to be pretty.

Leon knew from reading all your journals that the reason you felt this way was because of your upbringing; your parents weren’t exactly ones to instill confidence but preferred to tear you down and keep you in a constant state of vacillation so you’d have to constantly rely on them.

A notification dragged him from his thoughts—a text from your mother saying that you’d both be home in 5 minutes—as he began to clean he kept thinking of how beautiful you looked in your pretty lingerie and how he would be getting to actually see you in it soon.

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This was absolutely perfect.

The moment the words left your mother's mouth, Leon felt the blood rush to his pants. When he glanced at you sitting on the sofa and saw you squish your thighs together, he knew you felt the same heat too.

It was like the stars aligned; your mother would leave for her close friends bachelorette party week abroad in Mexico and leave you and Leon all alone. Fate was truly on both your sides.

Until he heard your mothers voice say-

"You could always spend the week at your father's if you don’t want to stay here with Leon, honey. We can drop you off the night before I leave. Would you rather do that?"

Fuck, maybe you would say you wanted to be with your father.

"No, no, it’s alright. I want to be here with all my stuff and adjust to the new house better; I'm still getting used to it."

Another wave of relief washed over him.

“Okay honey, are you okay with that Leon?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll be working most of it anyway.”

A lie, he would immediately call the DSO to tell them he’d be taking the entire week off.

Leon glanced at you once again to see you looking at your lap trying to hide the smile forming on your pretty lips.

This week he’s finally going to make you his.

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Your poor heart was about to pound out of your chest. Leon had taken your mother to the airport three and a half hours ago for her flight, and all you could do was pace around Leon’s home. What was taking him so long to come back? Chalking it up to airports being a pain you continued pacing. Knowing you and Leon would be alone for the week made the feeling of anxiety coursing through your veins increase.

You tried your best to look nice, taking the time to make your hair look pretty and putting on more makeup than usual now that your mother couldn’t tell you to wipe it off. Rebelling even more, you put on a cute sundress that would send your parents into cardiac arrest if they were here to see you wearing it.

It really did feel nice to doll yourself up.

Finally, when you finished and looked at the large mirror in the hallway to admire your work, it hit you. You were doing all this for your own mother's husband. You did this to impress your stepfather. What the hell is the matter with you? This is wrong, and dirty, and nasty. Even if he wasn’t tied to your mother why would ever want a puny girl like you?

Damn it, you should’ve just spent the week with your father and stepmother, even if you’d be miserable. You’d probably just be a nuisance to Leon anyway; he’ll probably just spend the week avoiding you. God, why didn’t you just bite the bullet and go to your father's? You should’ve never agreed to stay the week, it was doomed from the start.

Being so drowned in your thoughts you only heard the door being unlocked when it was too late…

CRAP

“Hey doll, I’m back from the airport!”

The door is about 1/4 open.

CRAP CRAP CRAP

What can you do? Running to your room won’t work; the staircase is directly in front of the door. Hiding isn’t worth the risk of getting caught and looking more stupid than you already do. You don’t know the house well enough, so if there is a blind spot where you can sneak off to so you can quickly get changed, you definitely don’t know it.

Too late.

Leon is now standing two and a half feet in front of you.

Nervously smoothing the bottom of your dress, all you could do was look down at his shoes as his eyes practically burned holes into you.

“Wow. You look very nice today.”

You felt your face get hot as embarrassment washed over you. Is he mocking you? His voice didn’t sound mocking but you never know. Even if he is you can’t just stand there like an idiot!!! Say something, anything!!!

“Thanks, Mr. Kennedy.”

You mentally slap yourself.

Was THAT really the best you could do??? At least you didn’t stutter. Raising your head, you finally meet his eyes and see how sincere they are.

“I’ve told you hundreds of times to call me Leon sweetheart.”

He won’t admit it out loud to you yet, but he secretly loves your formality. He gets a little rush every time you call him “Mr. Kennedy” and “sir”. His wife raised such a polite young woman, he can’t wait to see what else he can get you to call him.

“Are you hungry doll? I’ll order or make you whatever you want.” He has his very big hand on your shoulder rubbing soothing circles on your skin and you feel electricity all throughout your body.

“I’m okay right now Mr. Kenn- Leon. But thank you for offering.” He moves his hand to rub your shoulder and you want the moment to linger as long as possible.

“Okay doll, I’m gonna go take a quick shower.” His very big hand leaves all too soon, “After I’m done I’ll meet you in the game room so we can do something fun tonight, you okay spending some time with me sweetheart?”

You felt a jolt of excitement at his offer, “Okay, I’ll be waiting there for you!”

With one last smile to one another you both head your separate ways.

You felt so happy that Leon wanted to spend his time with you instead of just going out or staying in his room to avoid you, you knew it was wrong to want his attention but you just couldn’t help it. He was the one who offered, and you were raised to always be polite and accept invitations, your parents only had themselves to blame. Why should you care about her feelings when she’s never cared about yours? After all it was your mother’s choice to leave her husband all alone so she could have her fun, so why shouldn’t you indulge yourself and have your own fun too?

During your epiphany, Leon was in the shower stroking his cock, thinking of you standing there in your pretty little dress, looking more vulnerable than a deer in headlights. It took everything in him not to push you to the floor and stuff your tiny pussy full of his big cock. He wondered if you had your regular Sanrio cotton panties or your lingerie on underneath?

He imagined your little whines and whimpers, saying how he’s too big and won’t fit so he only fucks you with half his length until he can stretch you out more, how sexy you would look riding him. Thinking of how you’d shyly guide his hand to wrap around your neck as he fucks you into oblivion.

Did you even know the effect you had on him? he thought of you every second of the day. he saw your angelic face everytime he closed his eyes, had constant dreams of you. He thought of how much happier he’d be if you had been his bride instead of your mother. Hell you’d probably faint from embarrassment if you knew even a sliver of his fantasies about you.

Wrapping a towel around his waist Leon couldn’t help but smirk as he thinks of all the things he would be doing to his precious stepdaughter tonight.

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Sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to shuffle a deck of cards, the TV played an Impractical Jokers re-run softly in the background as Leon finally came downstairs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, secretly admire how good he looked. He wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt that clung to him deliciously tight, showing off his muscles beautifully. Having felt self-conscious in your dress and the sun having set, you changed into your sleep shirt and shorts while Leon was gone, and he loved it. Your thin pajamas hugged your figure so well that he had to look away before his cock hardened.

Now all he had to do was execute his plan. First he’d put in a scary movie (a classic way to get a girl to cling onto her beau), gain your trust, and finally he’d fuck the shit out of you.

“Hey doll, thanks for holding up,” Reaching over to turn off the lamp, he cheekily smiles at you “What do you say we watch a movie? I know a good scary one I think you’d like.”

Nervousness crept into you as you toyed with your shorts, “Oh I’ve never really seen a horror movie before, my parents have never let me… but I want to watch it though!”

‘A night of firsts’ Leon thought. “I’ll put it on, it’s an older movie but it’s a classic. Why don’t you come up here and sit next to me sweetheart?” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa, “Don’t want you to be all by yourself down there.”

Shyly, you got up, Leon gently grabbed your hand and sat you next to him. You hadn’t been this close to him since he bought you those gifts a couple weeks ago; you nearly forgot how he was even more handsome up close and personal. Picking at your fingernails, you waited anxiously as the movie began. Putting his arm around your shoulder, he somehow made you get even closer to him, his cologne and shampoo invading your senses. Rubbing his hand up and down your arm, he could feel the goosebumps forming on your soft skin.

25 minutes had passed, and you had practically molded yourself into his side. The movie was scary, of course, but you couldn’t blame snuggling into Leon on just being scared. You knew exactly what you were doing, and as long as Leon was okay with it, you’d keep doing it. This was your only opportunity to get a taste of what it was like to be with him, and goddamn, you were going to take it.

When a jump scare happened you let out a small scream and hid your face in his neck, clinging to him tightly. The cogs turned in Leon’s brain; everything was going according to plan.

Sliding his arm down to your waist he held your head with his other hand, “You scared baby?”

Your heart beat faster at the pet name, “A little bit…”

“You shouldn’t be sweetheart,” He caresses your face. “I’m right here to protect you.”

His breath was fanning your face; you were so close to him that you could see every beautiful, unique detail that marked his skin.

The lump suddenly comes back to your throat.

“You’re so angelic,” he tugs you even closer than you were before, “look just like a doll.”

Blush spreads across your face, kissing the palm of Leon’s big hand you sheepishly put one hand on his chest and the other on one of his big arms, tracing gentle circles with your small fingers. “Do you really mean that Leon?”

“Course I mean it baby,” placing you on his lap, he made sure to position you so you’d feel his hard cock under your cunt, “most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

A tiny smirk appeared on your lips, “More beautiful than my mother?”

His cock was pulsing hearing that come from your pouty lips.

“Especially more beautiful than her,” you began pressing tiny kisses to his jaw, “can see the envy in her eyes every time she looks at you.”

And with that he dove in and kissed you. It felt electrifying as he slipped his tongue into your hot mouth, pressing it as deep as he can go. You whined when he pulled away, quickly giving him a small peck.

"Fuck, doll face" he sighs, scattering gentle pecks on your neck, “You like how I kiss you, hm?" his big hands wander down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and making you moan.

"A-ah, Leon," you whimper, his hands not leaving your ass. Leon just smirks and pulls your body closer to him. He leans down to kiss your lips once more, but it was rougher. He wraps his arm around your body, tugging you firmer, while his other hand cups your cheek. Leon’s in control of the kiss, you just try your best to keep up with him. You whined once again when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both together.

“You finally got a real kiss, and now you can’t get enough, can you, dirty girl?” He wiped the spit from your lips with his finger, placing it in his mouth to taste both your mixtures. Your cheeks were flushed red from how turned on you are for him.

“Let’s continue this in the bedroom nasty girl,” picking you up bridal style he carried you up the stairs,“gonna need more room to do what I want to you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, upon entry giving you a chaste kiss before guiding you to stand between his legs.

“Be a good girl and take my cock out.”

You just nodded your head, obeying him immediately. You'd done some research, so you weren't as naïve as you had been before, and you were hoping he'd give you the chance to show him what you learned. Leon began removing his shirt as you began to scoot down, by the look of an evident bulge, you could tell his cock was gonna be big. Leon watches you with hazy eyes, petting your hair softly.

You felt your heart rate go faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. Quickly tugging his sweatpants and boxers down his hard cock slaps against his stomach and bobs forward, the thick tip smearing your cheek with his precum.

Leon reaches for your face to wipe it off but you grab his wrist and lower it. Your mouth is watering. He’s so thick and long, how was he supposed to fit in your mouth let alone your pussy?

With no plan at all, you leaned forward and enveloped the head of his cock between your pretty lips. He hissed at the sudden contact, your tongue tasting his precum beading at the tip. It was a little salty, but hearing Leon’s deep groan of pleasure, you’d learn to love the taste.

You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock. Taking your small hand you pumped it up and down, spreading your spit all around his fat cock.

“Holy shit! Where the hell did you learn to do that, doll?”

You blushed, letting out a small giggle, and licked his tip, “Watched a porno, wanted to learn how before I did it to you.”

Opening your mouth to slip his cock back in before he could respond, you tried to take as much of him as you could. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly began to suck his cock. His grip in your hair tightened and the tinge of pain had you gushing into your panties. You whimpered around him, clenching your thighs together to help ease the pressure between your legs.

He let you suck on him, lathering his member in your spit until you reached the point where you couldn't handle anymore of his cock in your mouth.

"C'mon angel, try to take more of daddy in that slutty throat," He growled, you choked but did your best to relax your throat to allow him to fuck your mouth. Your panties were soaked and sticking to you, having your handsome stepfather use your throat as he pleased was a turn on.

"Look at that. Bad little girl aren't you? You're my bad, naughty girl." Leon mocks, watching tears drip down your cheeks.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his big cock. Using your hand on what your mouth couldn’t reach to try and make him cum.

"Fuck my love, you're doing so damn good. Sucking your Daddy's cock so good." he moans, hand still gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again. The gagging sent shivers down his spine.

Saliva continuously dripped down your chin, "So messy for your daddy, my baby" he suddenly pulled out, leaving you a panting mess before him.

Lifting you in his arms he tenderly kissed your forehead, "Did such a good job sucking me off angel, always knew you were secretly a whore. Love how sloppy you are, can’t wait to teach you how to deep-throat me."

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice sounded, “Anything for you.” you practically moan, quickly you pressed a kiss to Leon’s nose and tried to wriggle out of his arms.

Confused Leon gently put you down, sat back on your bed, and waited to see what you were going to do. “Keep pumping your cock!” You quickly went over to your dresser and grabbed the Polaroid camera he got you. He almost had a heart attack hearing what came out of your mouth.

“I want you to cum on my face and take a photo of it. Is that okay with you?”

Leon practically snatched the camera from you, “Shit doll, didn’t know you were this nasty. Hurry up and suck me off so I can fuck you after this.” he quickly pushed you to your knees.

He shoved your head on his cock, becoming impatient. He just wanted to feel your tight mouth on him again. His free hand tangled in your hair once more as he started to push himself further in your mouth. Your eyes instantly teary as he reached your gag-reflex, making your throat burn. Looking down at your pretty face made his self-control snap and he lifted his hips up, forcing his whole cock down your throat. Two more thrusts and he pulled out, his hot cum spurting all over your face.

Snapping two photos on the camera he placed the three items on the floor and lifted you up on the bed, "Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You instantly do what he tells you, allowing him to spit in your mouth and without being told to, you swallow happily.

Gathering his cum on your fingers you happily lick them clean, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go wash my face real quick!” and Leon waits patiently, stewing in anticipation.

Re-entering your room Leon saw that you ditched your pajamas and now only wore the lingerie he found in your room just days ago.

You truly are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

"C’mere baby girl, come here." Leon coos and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches from yours. He clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it.

He presses a sloppy kiss to your swollen lips, "Ready for me to finally fuck you, my baby?”

You nod your head the best you can. "Please, want it so bad daddy"

"You think you can take my cock?"

You hate how flustered he can make you. You only nod and lean in for another kiss, letting Leon take control of it once again.

“I can take it. Promise I can.”

“Okay doll,” he nips at your jaw, “just gotta prep you first.”

Prep?

Every coherent thought leaves your mind as you watch him unclip your bra, exposing you to him. Before you can cover yourself, Leon snatches your wrist with his hand and shoots you a warning look before kissing and sucking at your sensitive breasts. Holding onto him as he laid you on your back, you waited to see his next move.

His hand cups your panty-clad cunt and you jolt, panicking at the sensation your legs closed on instinct, Leon growled, "Open your fucking legs or I’ll leave right now..."

You whimpered, startled by Leon’s tone as he pushed them back open. Leon smiled, pecking your lips quickly, "Be a good girl, doll..."

Feeling you up, he stroked your clothed pussy with his fingers softly. Your little hand reached for his free one, putting his pointer and middle finger to your lips you began to suck on them. He pressed his fingers harder on your cunt, specifically on your cute little clit making you moan around his digits.

"You feel good, angel?" Leon asked softly as you nodded, feeling relaxed you kept your legs open no longer needing Leon to help keep them spread. But Leon was going too slow and you were starting to get frustrated.

"M-more..." You quietly begged him, making him chuckle darkly. Leon could see your hips thrusting up harder into his hand, wanting more friction as you became more desperate.

"Such a cute doll, aren't you?" Dazed, eyes barely open, mouth slightly gaped, a little drool from when you sucked his fingers in the corners of your sweet mouth. ‘She looks so fuckable.’

He was tempted to just shove his fat cock inside your tight virgin cunt and make you take it, no matter how much it hurt, and he would have if it was anyone else. But you aren’t just anyone; you're his stepdaughter, his precious baby who deserves to have her pussy fingered and eaten out, so he pushes the thought out of his mind.

Leon just wants to fuck you stupid, "Let's get these off you..." Taking a look at your cunt, he noticed your panties had a wet spot on them that seemed to be getting bigger.

"Look at that, baby... So wet..." His fingers touched the wet patch, feeling the stickiness on his fingertips, he bent down, "Fuck, you smell so good my love..."

Leon took off your ruined panties and he could feel the hunger devour him right then and there. Saliva gathered in his mouth, a voice in his head telling him to just dive in and eat your little cunt like it was the last thing he'll ever have.

So he listened.

Leon dove in without a warning, his tongue collecting the juices that seep out of your cunt as you screamed, "L-Leon!!!"

"So sweet. Taste so fucking sweet..." He growled as he sucked the puffy little nub in between his lips, softly biting it and making you thrash underneath him, arching your back as you called out his name, "You're just a little skank, aren't you?"

"N-not a skank, Leon! Feels... Feels w-weird..." you whimper and grab onto his hair, Leon didn't stop sucking, licking, he gave his all as you felt tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes.

"Just a dumb fucking bitch. Nasty little slut that loves how her stepfather plays with her pussy." He collected his saliva inside his mouth and spits on your cunt, making you more of a mess as his fingers roam your entrance.

Without a warning his fingers start ramming inside you—moving them rapidly up and down, hitting the spots you didn't even know existed. You couldn’t think straight, not when he spat on your cunt and made you know how good it felt to have your pussy doted on. You were crying, wanting him to slow down but despite it hurting, you still wanted more.

He moved his tongue and fingers in sync, rubbing your swollen clit at a fast pace trying to get his good girl to cum as fast as he can and repeat the process over and over again. Leon wanted to make the bed drenched with your cum.

Leon could feel your walls clenching on his fingers, restraining his movements he knew you were close. Then he went harder and harder, pressing down on the puffy nub as you screamed, the tears on your face evident.

"You gonna cum, aren't you, babydoll? Are you gonna be a good girl for me? You deserve this so much, baby. Watched you for so long, been dreaming of this day since I met you" He slaps you across your face, savoring the moment, "That's right, doll... Let the whole neighborhood know how good I'm making you feel. Show daddy know how much of a whore you are."

Leon’s right, you really are a slut.

Stars clouded your vision. The knot in your stomach made you feel like you were going to pee, feeling it coiling in your belly, it grows bigger and bigger.

Suddenly something so unexpected happens that shocked you both. Leon can feel the gush of stream hitting him as you twitch in his grasp, moaning so loud he knows the neighbors will hear it. The clear stream of liquid told its tale and Leon knows exactly what it is.

"L-Leon!" your thighs shook frantically as you cried, he could only smirk seeing you squirt all over his hands and mouth.

"Good fucking girl," he gives a few gentle slaps to your aching pussy "Gonna make you my own personal porn star, doll face. Bet you’d fuckin’ love that."

You just stare at him with heart eyes. Grabbing the back of his head to make him lean down, you licked from his chin back up to his lips so you could taste yourself.

Leaning back he kisses your forehead, “It’s going to hurt a little more cause you have such a tight cunt, but I’ll go slow. I promise,” he says with furrowed brows.

You loop your arms around his neck, and nod, hoping that the he can see the adoration you feel for him in your eyes. Leon nods back stiffly as his eyes flit to your lips before kissing you hard, once again. Though this time, while his lips are on yours, one of his hands reaches between you both, gripping the base of his cock. He rubs it between your folds, the tip brushing against your clit making you moan, high pitched and sweet into his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the stretch of his big cock. When he finally bottoms out, you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders where your hands were rested. He hisses, and your brows furrow with worry when you feel the tiny pricks of blood oozing out.

“I’m sorry,” you panic, tears prickling your eyes from both the pain of your hymen breaking and the fear of hurting him. “Are you mad? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry,” you softly cry.

Here Leon is, balls deep in the wettest, tightest pussy he’s ever had, and you’re asking him if he’s mad at you. As if a few little fingernail scratches could actually hurt him. He laughs a little, trying not to move before you’ve adjusted to him being inside of you. “You could punch me in the face and I’d still adore you. I’m fine,” he says as he pecks your nose.

To make you forget about it he leans forward and groans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he starts slowly fucking you. "That’s my good girl," he chuckles, hearing his balls slap against you, "taking this huge dick like a whore."

"Yes, yes, r-right there daddy! Hurts so good!" his words were made you blush red, turned on from the way he was spoke to you. You love it — you love surrendering yourself to him, letting him do whatever he wants with your body, loved to let him use you like a sex toy.

"Yeah? My little bitch loves how I fuck her hard with my cock?" You don't even need to answer because he can feel it. He sees his cock protruding against your stomach, your pussy too little to accommodate his big dick.

The hand that was once wrapped around your neck moves up to your face as he forces two fingers inside your wet mouth.

Your eyes roll back, choking as he went past your gag reflex.

"It’s s-so big," you mumble around his digits, your saliva coating his fingers as you swirled your tongue around them. “Love it so much,”

"Dick too big to fit inside this little cunt. such a little baby I’ve got here." He gives a light slap to your puffy clit, “Can see it moving in your stomach, babydoll. My cock is the only one you need. Know it hurts but you’re gonna take it like a big girl, yeah?”

You quickly reply, pussy clenching, "Yes, just p-please don’t stop," you say through his fingers, batting your eyelashes.

His lips curve up in a smile, loving how cute you said that, "Mhm, 'course you love it. My little cum-slut can't get enough of her stepdads big cock."

You two were a hot, moaning messes. Looking up at him pathetically Leon’s cock throbs at the sight of you all used, your face flushed. "Want to cum, sweet girl?"

Wanton moans filled the room as you nodded your head.

“Only way I’ll let you is if you tell me what I want to hear," he squishes your cheeks together, “Wanna hear you say that this is your daddy’s pussy and that you belong to him and him only. Say it and I’ll make you cum, babydoll.”

Your cunt squeezes him tightly, you love how he only wants you for himself.

“M-my pussy is daddy’s, and I o-only belong to him!”

He slaps your cheek harder than he did before and soothes you with a sloppy kiss.

His thrusts gets rougher, pounding right into your sweet spot before he sends you to a hard, body-shaking climax. Your vision blurs, seeing stars as your pussy squirts your cum onto his dick. "There we go, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock – fucking little minx!."

You only have the energy to moan, brain dead at the staggering orgasm.

He comes undone right after, hot strings of cum coating your tight walls. Pulling out, he groans when he sees both of your mixed cum oozing out of your cunt and onto your comforter.

Leaning down he places his long fingers in your messy pussy, shoving his cum back inside.

"C’mere, my love," he plants his hands on your stomach and lays you on his chest, kissing your hairline.

You both lay still for a couple minutes, catching your breath. You listen to his heartbeat come back to a steady pace as he rubs your back and shoulders up and down, kissing your head every once in a while.

“Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” Leon says breaking the comfortable silence.

Nuzzling further in his chest you hold him tighter, “M’fine Leon, just sore.”

You hear his heartbeat quicken again.

“Did such a good job baby, thank you for letting me do this to you.” He tugs your head back, pressing a long kiss to your swollen lips.

You feel your heart stop as he moves you and gets up from your bed. You grab his hand and he lets out a small laugh, giving it a kiss, “M’not going anywhere doll, just gonna put my pants back on and get you some clean panties.”

A small smile spreads across your face, relieved he wasn’t leaving you all alone. When he comes back he holds you as tight as he can without suffocating you.

Holding his jaw, he can barely hear you whisper a scared “Thought you were gonna abandon me.”

You’d never have to worry about him leaving you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it doll face” he squeezes your throat, “I’m never letting you go, whether you like it or not...”

[christinesficrecs]

hello chrissy poo! please save me and recommend me some accidental baby acquisition fics. thank youuu

Accidental babies are my favorite! 🩷

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter | 51.9K | Mature

Stiles finds a baby on the porch.

It looks exactly like him.

Well, this is awkward.

Foxglove Eyes by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle | 47.8K | Explicit

Stiles didn't know how long the woman had him collared and working for her. (See forcing him to be a magical slave.) But he knows when he finally gets the collar free, it's the same night the compound is raided by wolves. Somehow, he ends up with them, and, in the process, becomes the adoptive father to a baby werewolf that seems to hate everyone else. Oh, well, worse things have happened.

You And Me (Baby Makes Three) by clotpolesonly | 5.4K

Pulling out his phone, Stiles said, “I’m sure dad’ll be thrilled to be woken up at two in the morning for an off the books amber alert, but he’ll suck it up.”

He’d only taken a few steps away before Derek said his name. Stiles turned back to see one of those little grabbing hands reaching out for him. Her eyes were brown, apparently, when they weren’t glowing, and they were wide and wet and looking up at him beseechingly from Derek’s arms, and Stiles couldn’t walk away from that.

“Oh, jeez.”

He was so screwed.

He’s Not Mine by Sunnee | 68.5K | Explicit

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

Bundle of Accidental Joy by tearsandholdme | 69.9K | Mature

Stiles is just trying to live a simple life. Have a job, pay his rent, and survive enough to eat his next meal. But then he's fired from his job, watches a mother abandon her baby, tries to stop her and picks the baby up, and now everyone thinks the baby is his. Even his very handsome and moody boss, Derek Hale, who forces the responsibility onto him at the cost of keeping his job or else.

Reasonable to Assume by  Saucery | 32,476 | dropbox link

“You’re a werewolf! He’s a werebaby! How can you not know what to do with him?”

Didn’t See That Coming by  knittersrevolt | 83,838

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

The Littlest Alpha by  triedunture | 52.5K | dropbox

Derek and Stiles have taken out the Alpha Pack and pretty much saved the world. Okay, the town. Okay, their remaining friends. But the Alphas left something behind: a baby. And this baby is an Alpha too. Derek is determined to take care of the abandoned child, and Stiles is stuck going along for the ride.

But Stiles doesn’t expect the ride to include seeing another side of Derek, or to find another way to say “family.”

The One Where They Adopt a Selkie by mikkimouse | 7.7K

“That’s a kid,” Stiles said.

Derek growled. “It’s a selkie.”

“It’s a selkie kid,” Stiles pointed out, because really, they did not need to be arguing semantics right now. “Do selkies just go around leaving their kids sleeping in caves on the beach?”

Everything With You by ElStark | 9.2K | Explicit

“What’s going on?” Derek asked.

Scott shook his head, “You need to see.”

“Would you stop with the fucking mystery and just tell us already?” Stiles snapped at him.

“We found a baby,” Scott relented, starting to half jog towards the opposite line of trees they had been standing in front of.

3 Idiots and a Baby by WithMyTeeth (Ylith) | 42.1K | Explicit

One little abandoned Were-baby changes everything.

What to expect when you aren’t expecting by MemeKon | 16.9K

The baby is warm and small and she’s all wrinkled and frowny, bow lips somewhat pursed and pouty. Stiles’ palms feel cold and sweaty against the blanket enfolding her as he holds her tight to his chest.

“What do you mean she turned up out of nowhere?” Derek asks, frowning at him, hand twitching above the baby’s head, as if he wasn’t sure touching her wouldn’t make her disintegrate into nothingness. Stiles rolls his eyes at him and bounces on the balls of his feet when the baby squirms.

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Idk if you know Monster prom, but I was thinking about that game earlier, and I was wondering what your opinion would be on different YV boys playing that game (like who they would romance and etc)

I know monster prom! Always wanted to play it, sadly don't got funds to do so </3 Okay don't fully remember the story line but did pull up the wiki. Just gonna do what character they'd okay and who they'd romance, maybe their opinions on some characters.

Alphonse

For playable characters I feel like it's gonna be Oz bc he looks really cool! I can see him possibly romancing Scott (Loves a himbo), Damien (Everyone loves a bad boy Boo!), Polly (She looks nice!), and maybe Zoe (idk she a freak I fuck w that)

But I feel like he'd probably stick to like the same few romances but doing different decisions to see what happens. Is laughing at all the crazy shit he gets pulled into bc of these romancing characters he choose.

Seth

I can see him picking Brian as his playable character. He's a bit heartbroken he couldn't be a cryptic, but also wanted to try and be kinda true to him? I can see him romancing everyone at least once. Doesn't really have a preference.

I think he'd love the concept of the game since its really well thought out! He loves the multiple endings you can get and might try and get a few before deciding he's done.

Charlie

Mf saw Ox and was like lol that's me. I can see him liking Damien (He's hot, like literally), Scott (honestly crush me w those arms), and Vera (okay yes I loved to be dommed stop laughing Cas!)

Likes how the art style is, I feel like he tries and friends Liam. Reminds him of someone he knows, also likes Polly she's really cool. Some scene's of the game made him go wide eyed like woah okay so that happened-

Finn

Chooses to play Oz, he likes how the guy has lil shadow creatures around him! For trying to romance I can see Damien (Okay yes, Sunflower it's cliche but yeah..), Scott (he seems really nice!) and maybe Calculester (is it weird bc he's a robot?..Computer?)

Gasps and wide eyed at how some of the people act. Like how Miranda who seems so nice is from a tyrant family?? Along with how she treats the people who follower her around basically doing everything fore her??

Faust

Has placed as every playable character for fun and romanced every single romancible character. Except Liam, reminds him too much of Auron and is just....no....

I feel like he really likes Vera how headstrong she is a headstrong woman. Also kinda likes Zoe bc she kinds reminds him of himself.

Auron

Looks at the playable characters and picks Brian. Thinks he looked similar enough to him. Doesn't really care for these types of games so he just goes where ever his choices takes him.

I can see him romancing Vera (She knows what she wants and I respect that), Polly (She seems nice I wonder why she parties so much?) and Calculester (I kind of like him). I can see him after a while of just having the game play the other routes just once. I can see him kinda liking Liam

Lucien

Plays as Amira bc he loves how cool she looks! Laughs when he sees Damien then tries to romance him (Angel! Look there's a demon in here!), Polly (oh she's crazy I love her), Scott (Okay beefcake I see you), Zoe (Holy shit she's like me fr!) and Vera (She's hot.)

I can honestly not flinch at anything the characters do, just enjoying vibes while playing this. Also he def played all the routes he could when getting the game.

Jack

I can see him playing Vicky, I feel like personalities match up kinda! Honestly he doesn't care who he's gonna rizz up and goes for the first perosn he sees.

Thinks the plotline and story for the game is funny, likes the many endings you can get! Plays all the routes he can bc he wants to know everything.

[credince--writes]

MacLovin'

Everyone needs a little MacLovin'.

AO3

Warnings:

Smut, roofies, Soap's hairy taint.

Soap had a problem with sex.

No one would ever call him out for it though.

It's not like drinking yourself under the table every night with a bottle.

But it was pressing up against a random woman in a supply closet.

The random, sloppy sex on top of a cot.

It filled a void.

A creature comfort.

The chase to ecstasy, and the inevitable letdown.

So he kept chasing that high whenever he could.

It filled the void, in a way,

...

The first time it happened, Jitters was bunking with Soap. He'd been shot, so he wouldn't be out in the field with Price & Gaz. Nut until his stitches were removed.

She'd been providing ground support to the group of them, checking cameras and providing assistance. But as the day dragged on, so did the mission. There were less and less cameras, they were moving further out into the wilderness.

That wasn't something she could help with.

So, after Price gave her the all-clear, she headed to the kitchen of the safe house, where she'd fix up something quick to eat before she passed out for the night.

"Jesus- Fuckin' Shit!" She heard Soap exclaim- loud enough for her to hear it in the kitchen followed by thumping sounds.

Hesitantly, she set her plate down and made her way to their room. Maybe he had fallen, and torn open his stitches. Preparing herself mentally to find a bleeding seething mess on the floor she carefully opened the door up.

Soap was hunched over the bed, the woman pinned down beneath him arms outstretched gripping onto the sheets below her.

The room reeked.

And she wondered how long the two of them had been going at it.

She faltered, locked in place oogling the Scott's hairy ass on display.

She promptly closed the door behind her.

She'd sleep on the couch.

...

Jitters had a hard time establishing a line of absolutes in her life. There simply was no such thing as complete certainty in her life.

But, if there were to be one thing.

It would be that Soap was absolutely plastered.

The kind of sloppy drunk that made your teeth hurt.

He had two women sitting with him, eating up their attention.

And he fed it to them, all to happy to oblige the attention that they were feeding him.

The team had stopped out at a bar post-mission, Pirce jokingly ordering Jitters a Shirley temple because 'children shouldn't drink'. The bar itself was sticky, and she- albeit silently- gratefully took the drink and nursed its sickly sweetness for the night.

It was common for Jitters to share a room with Soap.

Gaz would stay with Price, and Ghost would stay in his own room. That was if they were forced to bunk up together.

Expenditures, and whatnot she supposed.

"You think he'll bag em'?" Gaz jokes, poking Jitters in the side.

"God. I hope not." Jitters groans.

Price chuckles. "I think you've got the worst luck outta the lot."

She shoots him a glance. "Then I'll be knocking on your door when I find the room is being thoroughly fornicated when I try to lay my head to rest." She replies.

"Just keep those frozen feet the hell away from me." Gaz comments.

"I'm hurt, am I not a good cuddle buddy?" She jokes back to Gaz.

Price raises a brow, before adding. "It's a woman thing."

"Never knew you'd been graced by the touch of a woman before, Cap." Gaz replies.

"Must be all that spite runnin' through their veins." Price replies.

Jitters scoffs. "My feet aren't cold. You're just a bitch."

"How's that Shirley temple there, sweetheart?" Gaz replies, a shit-eating grin crawling up his face.

She raises a middle finger before taking another sip of the drink.

Gaz reached into his wallet, and pulled out the card to his hotel room, handing it over to her. "So you don't bang on the door and wake the bloody floor up."

"Mhmm. Thanks." She laughed lightly as she took the card.

Soap had begun to stumble off.

Maybe they'd be going to a room that wasn't hers.

..

She could really only hope in these situations.

She'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

She was standing at the edge of the bathroom counter brushing her teeth when the familiar sound of the hotel door clicking and opening was heard. Leaning down to spit into the sink, cleanup and finish she was greeted with the sound of stumbling footsteps.

She pushed open the bathroom door to find Soap laying on his back with a woman on top of him, shirt off and tossed to the side.

On her bed.

"John fucking MacTavish!" Jitters seethed. "That's my fucking bed!"

The woman turned, wide-eyed. Soap grabbed her by her chin and pulled her back down onto him. "Jus' my sister. She'll leave us be."

"MacTavish huh?" The woman asks, sliding down his chest.

"Oh baby, you can call me MacLovin'."

Jitters groaned, finding her shoes and slamming the door behind her.

Stomping through the hallway, she pulled the card Gaz had given her out of her pocket.

Pushing the card into the slot, and pushing the door open into the room. Suprisingly, the lights were still on and as she walked into the room she was greeted with the sight of Price and Gaz sitting in their beds, sitting up arguing about what to watch on the TV across the room.

They both made eye contact with Jitters, and she didn't bother to reply before kicking off her shoes and crawling onto Gaz's bed. Laying face down on top of the sheets.

"Again?" Gaz asked.

"Oh yea- MacLovin was getting it on." She groaned.

The two laughed in response, and went back to bickering about the shows on the 'telli'.

Gaz patted her on the back before pushing himself back up in bed. "Were the twins still there?"

"Fuck you, Gaz."

...

The mission had ended, and they ended up staying in a casino.

A fucking.

Casino.

Jitters was having a hayday.

Price had kept her glued to his side, she'd subtly take out one of her tablets and do some math. Maybe (illegally) do some back-end snooping on the software of the machines and lead the man to gambling victory.

Gaz had joined them, the three of them floated around the casino for hours. Gaz kept feeding Jitters drinks while she led them to machines that were more probable to win- to one's she thought were prettier.

"I like... I like that one." She stated. Looking at a tall machine with a little gold chair, and a big purple dragon floating on it.

"You're drunk." Gaz slurred.

She turned, poking him in the chest. "And you're...." Her eyes narrowed. Then her face went blank. "I forgot."

Gaz laughed before calling the Captain over.

The three then cashed out Price's winnings, Gaz and Jitters leaning on each other while they navigated through the labyrinth that was the floor. She honestly had forgotten what the name of the casino was, but her face was tingly, and every time she took a step she'd bump into Gaz.

"Dinners on me, kids." Price joked. He had been drinking just as much as them, if not more, and was not anywhere near the state of Gaz or Jitters. Jitters had drank nearly a half of what Gaz had drank, and was in the worst state of all three of them.

Ghost and Soap had parked themselves at the bar inside one of the restaurants in the Casino, drinking among themselves while Ghost kept an eye out for the other members of the team. He heard them before he saw them, Gaz and Jitters loudly rambling about something with Price leading them along.

Jitters walked, slightly stumbling up to the bar. Climbing into the chair next to Ghost and almost immediately thumping her head down on the bar.

Gaz and Price joined her, sitting at the bar. The bartender shot her a distasteful look, and walked up to Price to take drink orders.

"Let's get some chips first. And water over there." He said, throwing a thumb over to Jitters.

Jitters cheek rested against the bar, the sticky feeling of the dried drinks residue on the countertop would've made her skin crawl if she wasn't as inebriated as she was.

"You're lookin' like you're feeling right." Ghost mused.

"mHn." She lifted her head. "Mother goose I'd like to request fries." She grumbles.

"Mother goose. I would also, very much like them." Gaz agrees, turning to Price.

"Stop callin' me a blood fuckin' goose." Price grumbles. "I already ordered them."

"Yesssss."

"Price is the mother goose?" Soap asks, leaning forward.

"Yes MacLovin'." Jitters snorts.

"Sweet Jesus." Soap groans. "I said it. One time."

Jitters lowered her voice, trying to give her best drunken impression of Soap. "Nah, that's alright baby just call me MacLovin."

A glass of ice water was set in front of Jitter's face, followed by a basket of fries.

"Thank God." She groaned, grabbing the cup and then a fistful of fries, stuffing them into her mouth.

"God, you're drunk missy." Soap commented.

"Missy." Jitters sneers back at him.

"Hm." Ghost saws, swirling the liquid in his glass around.

"Fuck. I feel better." Jitters burps into her hand, giving a quiet 'excuse me', and pushing the basket of fries over the Gaz. "Thanks mommy." She says, glancing over at Price who just gives her a look of confusion and possibly disgust.

Soap nudged Ghost in the side, pointing over to a woman sitting across the bar.

"Whaddy'a think o' that?" He says, wiggling is eyebrows.

"Whatever you think, MacLovin." Ghost replied dully.

Soap groans, throwing his head back. "Not you too."

Price and Gaz got up to go play a game of pool, leaving the three at the bar to talk among themselves.

"Price won big." Jitters comments, shooting a pretty big smile over to the two of them.

"Imagine you helped." Ghost says.

"mmmmmmmhmmmmmm." She replies.

"How much?" Soap asked.

"Enough to owe me another basket of this." She grumbled. She caught attention of the bartender, asking for a soda and another basket of fries. "And can you please add it to his tab?" She asked, point at Price.

The bartender nodded, ringing up the order and grabbing her soda.

"Look at the arms on that woman." Soap comments, watching the bartender move.

She must've heard, because the bartender turned and smirked. "You like a strong woman?"

There he goes again.

Falling down the rabbit hole.

Ghost wasn't unfamiliar with Soap's woman issues, or habits, whatever Johnny would consider them.

One of the primary reasons he had insisted that Jitters be his new bunkmate when they had to pair up during these hotel spins was, well.

Ghost was a lady boner killer.

Not every day he could shmoze someone into there room- but in his room, there was a giant, masked, skull-faced brit sitting in bed watching romcom reruns.

They didn't often want to tag team.

He could just pull the sister card.

Or the cousin card.

Either one worked.

But that bartender? She was alluring. Those large arms- thick thighs.

She leaned over the counter, giving him a playful smirk. "I like your accent big boy, where's it from?"

His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head out of joy.

"I get off work in a hour." She whispered.

Even fucking better.

...

"What in your glass?" Jitters asked, speaking with her mouth full of fries.

"What do you think?" He responded.

"Something from the South. Where they get some hillbilly blind in one eye to manufacture something out of the entrails of roadkill with a hint of cinnamon." She responded, dipping some of the fries in ketchup before tossing them in her mouth.

"Entrials and cinnamon?" He echos, almost taken aback for a moment.

"Yea. Normal stuff like that." She shrugs. "Gimme a taste."

He sets the glass down, and pushes it over to her. Picking up the glass she hovers it under her nose taking a whiff before taking a sip.

He watched as her eye twitched, she set the glass down and pushed it back over to him.

It took her a moment to swallow as if she was fighting it down. Eye twitching again she let out a huff. "Jesus, am I a man now?" She muses.

"Little strong?"

"Feel like I have hair on my chest now, Spook."

"Spook?" He asked.

"You're a Ghost, your spook the shit outta everyone. You're a Spook."

"Why."

"You could be Mother Hen." She reasoned.

"You call Price that."

"No... I call Price Mother Goose, there's a difference."

"And what's that?"

"Geese are mean as shit." She explains simply.

Ghost lets out a huff, the closest she's ever gotten him to laugh, it's always just a huff of air. She wonders if he's even capable.

A new bartender sped over, dropping a drink off in front of Jitters. "From an admirer."

She eyed the drink, giving it a curious look.

"The hell is that." Ghost asks.

"Not sure Spook. One way to find out." She shrugs, picking the glass up and bringing it to her lips, taking a long sip.

"uhhh." She pauses for a moment, smacking her lips.

"Looks like a hangover in a glass." He adds.

"I think it's a Sex on the Beach." She drinks again.

The glass was pinkish red on the top, orange on the bottom, a little umbrella at the top with an orange-tipped onto the side.

"Shitty name, shitty drink." Ghost stated.

"Oh, don't be a pooper Spook." She joked, taking another drink. "You don't see this and imagine yourself on a beach in a little bikini?"

"No."

"Speedo?"

"No."

"Lame." She huffed. "You gonna pulla' Johnny and find someone to bang?"

"No."

"Ahh. I'm sure someone here would love to shag a brit. 'Specially a big and mysterious one like you."

"Why's that?"

"You got big hands." She comments matter-o-factly.

"What's that mean." He deadpans at her.

"You know what they say about big hands." She hums, laughing a little bit. She looks down at her drink and back at him, who still have no readable expression.

"I don't."

She snorts, drink almost shooting out of her nose. "Just forget I ever said anything, shit."

"Alright."

"You wanna go be a menace to society with me?" She turns, shooting him one of those looks. The kind of look that ends with him dragging her out of a public fountain, or a shrub, or a landscaping tree next to a busy intersection.

His eyes narrow for a moment. "Let's go gamble."

They finish their drinks, Ghost happily adding his tab to Prices before they left to go see what tricks Jitters had up her sleeve when it came to card games.

"I have no idea what's happening." She excitedly said, standing next to him as he sat at a poker table.

"Bit weird yer' friend der' got a mask on. Maken' me think he's a' cheating." A large, (very large), southern man drawled from next to her.

She laughed, patting him on the back.

"No he's just a severe burn survivor- you know. That happens when your fighting in the desert for freedom!" She give him a cheery look.

"Boy, you done fightin in the Afghanistan's?" He asks.

Jitters nods. "He did! War hero- purple heart."

"Well shit." The man chuckles. "Let me buy y'all a round of drinks."

....

The bartender dragged Soap into the back, behind the bar. Into a storage closet full of boxed goods he's sure were used in the restaurant.

Their lips connected, and her hands reached for the hem of his shirt.

"Right to business are we?" He asks, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"That an issue?" She sighs onto his lips, breaking away to pull his shirt over his head.

"Not with me love. Just don't know if you'll be able to handle all of this MacLovin'." He snickers, reaching his hands up to grope her tits while they locked lips again.

One of his hands slid down her pants, undoing her belt and shimmying them off of her hips. She let out a high-pitched whine, muffled into his lips as he lifted her onto a large chest freeze sitting in the back of the room.

"God, let me see that pretty cunt o' yours." He grumbles, dropping to his knees. Hooking a finger into the fabric of her panties crotch and pulling it to the side.

She groaned, hooking her calf around the back of his head, pulling her forward. Her other hand reached up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of his mohawk.

"Don't just see it. Taste it too."

"Happy to oblige."

...

"Walk fast." Jitters eyes were wide, striding past Ghost in one of the pathways between slot machines.

He didn't question it, turning to follow her and keeping up a striding pace pretty easy.

"Hey! Hey you- Stop!" A security guard tries to keep up with them, but with Jitters weaving in and around people, and Ghost naturally causing people to veer away from him, the two quickly navigated away.

"What'd you do?"

She pulled him off to the side, behind a wall to some kind of exit. "Technically? A felony. No problemo' tho. I got one of these." She held up a golden card, engraved with the casino's logo.

"And that would be..."

"It's a bottomless drinks card." She grins. One of those evil, youthful, get so drunk it fucking hurts grins.

"How'd you manage that?" He asked.

"Do you really wanna know, or do you wanna go get a drink."

The two, did indeed go get a drink. Many drinks, to be exact. The copious amounts of alcohol the two consumed was a monumental peak in Simon's life. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten this drink under good pretenses.

"It's free!" she whisper yelled to him.

"Have another one!" She whispers and laughs as she wiggles the card at him.

They were somewhere- apparently, the fucking place had an aquarium. Build into the hallway to the hotel.

"We should get to bed." He comments.

"God what are you my father?" She asked, sitting down on and ledge and staring at the aquarium across from her.

"Someone has to fuckin act like it." He grumbles, fidgeting with the hem of the mask rubbing against his neck

"You know." She slurs.

"Know what."

"You look like you could hold up a convenience store." She glances at him.

"Who's to say I hadn't?" He slightly slurs back.

"You're too much of a softie." She replies back. "Like a sponge."

"Sponge?" He echos.

"Yea. Fuckin' sponge. Or one of those explodey-fishes."

"The fuck are you goin' on about?"

"Uhhh. Puffy. Puffing? No. No. Pufferfish. You're a pufferfish." She agrees with herself.

"I am a man. Not a fish."

"Nah. You're a fish." She keeps going.

"I'd say you're somethin' like a dolphin but they rape baby seals to death."

"What?" He asks.

"Brutal bastards." She agrees.

"Hm."

"Betcha I could swim in there." She comments.

"I'd let the dolphin get ya'."

"Fuckin' brutal."

"Alright, Get up." He says, standing up.

"We going to beddie-bye?" She asks.

"You are, at least." He says, softly leading her towards the elevator with his arm.

"If there is a woman, that isn't me, in my bed. Or any bed, for that matter, when I get into that room. I'm gonna jump."

"Just go to my room."

"Don't know your number."

"546."

"I'm not going to rem. Rem." She pauses. "Gonna puke."

His eyes widen slightly, looking around.

No trash can- no bathroom.

There's a large planter, next to the start of the fish tank.

He all but picks her up, carrying her 6 large long steps to the panted to where she grabs the rim of the planter, and throws up- violently- into the planter.

"Smells like sex on the beach." She comments, rubbing her mouth.

"I've seen worse."

"Just doing my duty to fertilize the plants, Spook."

"You should take up gardening."

They made there way to the elevator, Ghost punching in the floor, slinging her arm around his shoulder while he dragged her to her room. Digging her card out of her pocket and scanning into the room. Pushing the door open and finding a silent, empty room. He dragged her into the bathroom, filling up a cup of water and forcing her to at least wash out her mouth before she went to sleep.

"You'd make a great dad." She comments, after spitting the water out into the sink.

"Why's that."

"You've even got the shitty jokes."

"Hm."

He leads her to the bed, removing her shoes and laying her down on the bed.

She was essentially already out cold. So he glanced around, trying to find a pen. When he did, he grabbed for it, lifting her deadweight arm and writing his room number and floor down on it.

And with that, he turned off the lights and left the room.

...

He pushed his tongue flat into one long singular lick up her pussy.

"God, you taste heavenly." He grumbled.

He can't remember how many times he had said that exact line.

He had her pants off, shirt pushed up enough to access her tits and one hand wrapped around her leg while the other massaged her ass.

She moaned in response, wiggling her hips and pulling on his hair.

He grunted in response to the hair pulling. Diving back down to lap up through her core and suck on her clit. As he did, his hand slid from her ass to around her entrance. He took his index finger, gathering the wetness that had already begun to leak from her. Sliding his large calloused finger around in it before pushing it into the wet heat of her pussy.

He continued to lick, to eat, and devour it. Her praises egged him on, keeping his cock in his pants at an uncomfortable stiffness.

Curling his finger up and feeling the familiar spongey material that always made the fireworks appear. Sliding his finger out, he replaced it with two, curling his fingers forward massaging the interior of her walls.

She gasped, making choking sounds and trying to stifle her moans as he continued to curl his fingers and suck.

"Fuckin' come for me." He mumbles into her pussy.

And she listened.

He always loved a good rule follower.

Meant less foreplay.

He lifted his head to meet her half-lidded gaze.

"My room?" He asked.

She nodded.

...

There was always that weird state where you were half awake and half asleep. Aware of your surroundings but it was as if you were surrounded with cotton.

There was an annoying, agitating slapping sound coming from the room.

Oh wait.

She was drunk still.

She grumbled, mouth feeling too dry, and half questioning where her shoes went.

She looked over the edge of the bed, seeing them neatly set next to the foot of her bed.

She lifted her head, only to be met with the sight of a stark naked MacTavish, plowing into the bartender from earlier.

The pair, equal in their nakedness, sweaty and huffing and touching all over.

One of his hands was straight forward, grasped onto a boob while the other arm held her legs up, knees almost touching her ears while the rest of his body rocked his cock in back and forth.

Holy fuck she was making eye contact with Soaps Balls.

"I'm coming." He grunts. "Fuck- Fuck, I'm coming. I'm coming!" He groans, throwing his head back.

"I'm fucking going! I'm going I'm going i'm going!" Jitters yell back. Soap doesn't even turn to give her a glance.

He keeps going, however.

Pulling her shoes on and looking back into the room, she's once again met with MacTavish's man ass, and a lovely shot of his taint as he begins for round two.

Slamming the door behind her, she curses as she looks around. The hallways of these casinos was nothing short of a purgatory. She patted her pocket, feeling for the shiny little gold card that could make the sigh of Johnny's taint fade from her memory.

Like a hound, she sniffed her way down to the lobby, through the maze of machines and to a bar. She tapped the card on the counter, waiting for the bartender to swing by and pick up her order.

"Hey there." The smooth sound of a mans voice chimes in from her left, she shoots him a glance.

"What?" She asks.

"Well. That's not very nice." He frowns. "How about we start over, I buy you a drink?"

"I can buy my own drinks, thanks though. But not really thanks, you've done nothing to warrant my gratitude." She replies.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket- she rarely used the damn thing. It was a little comedic. It's was one of the newer phones- the one Ghost gave her after the water fountain incident so he could 'keep track' of her when they went out in public.

She didn't know what was worse, the fact he insisted on the tracker, put parental controls on the app store, or the fact she was fine with him knowing where she was.

It was like an ankle monitor, but it could FaceTime.

She opened her texts, exiting out of her text with Gaz, and tapping on 'Spook'.

I saw Soap's Taint. Drinking away the pain.

The read notification popped up under the message. The typing animation appears and drops away right after. She was blatantly trying to ignore the man next to her.

He shrugs, orders his drink and she orders hers.

"So how's a pretty girl like you sitting alone at a bar?"

"I'm schizophrenic, actually, I have three friends sitting to my left. You just can't see them." She adds.

"God, you have quite the mouth on you, don't ya?" He asked.

"Comes with the liquor." She replies.

He laughs.

"My names Merrick."

"Jay." She replied.

"Like the bird?" He asked.

"No. The letter of the alphabet."

He laughs again. "You're funny. I like you."

"No offense dude, but you look, like, 35." She replies dryly.

"Then what about my friend over there, hm?" He says.

She turns her body to look across the room.

"Where?" She asks.

He looks at her, humming slightly. "He must've bailed. He was kind of the loner type. Odd duck."

She huffs, turning back around and grabbing her drink. "You aren't gonna leave me be, are ya?"

He grins, a glint in his eyes as he takes a sip. "And give up a night with a pretty woman like you? Never."

.

.

.

.

Ghost sat in his room, the TV playing some random RomCom he would never admit he intentionally put on playing in the background.

His phone vibrated from a notification, glancing over at it and seeing it was from Jitters. He opened it, read it, and set his phone back down.

Been there, done that.

Maybe twenty minutes later, two more buzzes sounded in from his phone.

A photo of feet- not hers, next to her on a bar stool. Followed by a message.

'Weird'

He stared at the phone, trying to decipher what the message meant.

Was it drunk commentating, or her asking for help. He debated in his mind for a moment. Had it been drunk commentating, he'd be dealing with more vomit if he went down to check on her.

But she never texted single lines.

She said she wouldn't bother, he's to 'old' to understand it, so she'd always text in completed sentences.

He grumbled, standing up and finding the simple black mask he'd been wearing for the entire outing, pulling it back over his face and making his way to the door.

It's better to be safe, than sorry he'd suppose.

The RomCom wasn't going anywhere anyways.

...

She sat after sending the message.

She knew- or at least hoped it would be a red flag.

There was something off.

Really off.

The man was suppressing some kind of accent, she'd be able to recognize it. She was all too familiar with people faking American accents, but this had been practiced. Or maybe, she was simply overthinking it.

Maybe.

She slipped her phone into her pants pocket, looking up at him. He'd turned to his drink, taking a sip of it.

"Have you ever traveled abroad, Jay?" He asked.

"No. Not really." She responded. Finishing off her drink, she set the glass down and gave him a look. "You're pretty persistent. You know? Gotta give you props for that man."

He gave her a smile.

"You travel a lot?" She asked.

"Yes and no. I do fly out to work though, but nothing beats working from home."

She nodded. "Feel that."

The urge to pee become top priority in her mind, standing up. "Alright, gotta go." She said, not waiting for a response.

Speedwalking to the bathroom to do her business, she was hit with a wave of drunk. The kind that made her feel she could read fluent Mandarin. When she knew nothing about mandarin.

Drink's must've been strong.

She left the bathroom, becoming all to aware of her stumbling.

The confusion was more debilitating than anything, the feeling of her body shutting down. Eyes blurring.

An arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her up. She lulled her head to the side, giving him a confused glance.

"Oh it's alright sweetheart. Had one two many?" Marrick asked.

"nhn, hn no.." She mumbled.

He laughed lightly, leading her out of the bar and down the hallways.

Jitters could feel her heartbeat in her ears, the lights from the slot machines, and all of the noise.

It was overwhelming.

She heard the ding of an elevator.

The sound of a door being unlocked.

Scuffing of shoes.

The feeling of a bed under her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Merrick faltered for a moment, pushing his suit jacket back to pull a pistol from his side. Walking up to the door and seeing no one through the peephole. Opening the door, he peeked his head out to look.

The door was forced open, Ghost forcing his way through the door, grabbing Merricks gun, and punching him in the face. Merrick fell to the ground, and Ghost got on top of him, throwing four punches into his face. A sickening cracking sound was followed by a wheeze.

Ghost lifted the gun Merrick had been holding previously. "You have five seconds to tell me who you are."

"Fuck you."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Fuck! Fuck- wait!" The man yelled. "Pocket." He wheezed out. The blood from his broken nose bubbled out with his struggling breathing.

Ghost reached down, pulling out a burner phone.

His eyes locked with the screen, then to the man.

Ghost stood, a deadly silence filling the room.

"Please." The man said, shuffling could be heard.

Ghost grabbed the man's head, before slamming it down on the granite corner of the sink in the hallway.

There was a disgusting, wet cracking sound before the sound of a crumbling body could be heard.

"Jitters." Ghost said, running over, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"Njm" She mumbled back.

He cursed, picking her up and dragging her into the bathroom rolling the two of the on the the floor of the cold tile in front of the toilet.

He held her head in his hands, forcing her mouth open with on hand while he spoke softly in the other.

"You need to vomit."

"...no... mmhm." She replied, trying to fight him off.

"Fuckin' Vomit you stubborn brat." He hisses. She was drugged- that much was evident.

She tried to bite down on his hand, but even the movements of her jaw were sluggish.

"Sorry 'bout this." He grumbles, taking his free hand and sticking his finger into the back of her throat.

She gagged, her whole body tensing, but not throwing up.

"You had no problem vomiting earlier, so why now?" He complains loudly.

She was shaking, trying to push his hands off of her.

His gaze softened.

"Hey... Come on now." He said. "It'll make you feel better alright? I'll be nicer I promise."

She choked a little when he tried again, but she did puke.

He held her hair back as she vomited into the toilet bowl, tears pricking her eyes as she did so.

"Come on- you did a good job." He praised her, picking her up as he stood. He looked out into the room, corpse of the man on the floor. He pulled out his phone, dialing Price.

"The bloody fuck- it's three in the morning!" He hissed.

"We have a problem."

Price was quiet for a moment. "What kind of problem?"

Ghost looks at the burner phone, a photo of Jitters on the screen followed by the text that said.

'Alive'

"The Russian kind."

[louloulemons-posts]

Oil At The Coffee Shop XI

Eddie X Fem!Reader

Summary : Family time is the best time, but family truths also spill during it.

Word Count : 1.9k

Warnings : not proofread, swears, minor angst, talks of parental death, drunk driving, alcohol, cuteness, sweetheart eddie, just a lot of comfort for sad reader.

Fic Masterlist

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Saturday rolled around and you were glad the week was almost over, excited for a lie in on Sunday. Scott, Diane and the kids had come into the shop, begging you to have your lunch with them.

El and Max had shoved you in their direction, with the promise that they were fine and would come and get you if it was urgent. You were lucky to have those girls.

Sat with Matty cuddled up to your side, Scott spoke, “So Eddie seems nice.”

“He really does,” Diane agreed.

“He is. He’s lovely. I know on the exterior he looks like the stereotypical scary metalhead, but he’s a sweetheart.”

“And he’s nice to you?” Your brother asked.

“He’s been nothing but, he’s a lovely person Scott I promise you.” The man nodded, taking your answer as the truth. If you said he was a good man, he’d believe you.

“So who are these other friends you’ve made? Not replacing me are you?” Diane asked, teasingly. You huffed a laugh, “Never, could I replace you. The girls that work here Max and El, and then their friends. Oh and Jonathan and Steve, all of their friends.”

“Jonathan Byers?” Scott questioned.

“Mhm, that’s the one.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Great, he’s a photographer. Has a girlfriend, she’s called Nancy.”

“How’s that brother of his, Will?”

“He’s as lovely as he was when he was a baby, he’s actually good friends with Max, and he’s Els brother.”

After chatting a little more, you had to get back to work. Walking past the table, you slid two cupcakes in front of Jenny and Matt. The pair squealed, happily biting into the thick icing.

The bell above the door rang and in stepped your favourite person. A smile on his face, “Hey.”

“Hi, coffee?”

“Please.”

“What’s got you so smiley gorgeous?”

“Well apart from seeing my favourite girl, works been great today.”

“Good I’m glad,” you smiled back at him, “Scott’s over there with Di and the kids.” You motioned to the tables, Jenny was now covered in icing.

“I’ll just go and say hi,” he told you, to which you nodded. Shaking your brothers hand, Eddie got down low to talk to the kids. Jenny reached out for his curls with her sticky hands, Diane pulling them away. The man laughed, as she told her mom, “But mommy they pretty!”

“Yes Honey I know, but you’ll get them all sticky.” Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her daughters hand. “There you go, now you can touch,” Eddie said, taking her small hand into his hair.

The small girl laughed loudly, finding her curls to be one of the most interesting things she’d ever seen. With Eddies coffee in your hand, you headed over, ruffling Matts hair as you did.

“What are you up too?” you asked the small boy. He was colouring a picture, “It’s a project for school, have to show some of our favourite things for a big collage.”

“That’s cool bud, what are you colouring?”

“Dinosaur, it’s a stegosaurs.”

“That’s really cool, you’ll have to show me when it’s finished.”

Eddie pried little hands from his hair, standing up next to you. “Here you go,” you smiled, handing him his drink. “Thanks Sweetheart. It was lovely seeing you all again, when is it you leave?”

“Tomorrow, back to work on Monday and little man’s got school,” Scott explained. “Well hopefully I’ll see you before you leave, I have to get back to work now though.”

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, “I’ll see you later, and tomorrow, maybe we can hang out,” he told you. “Okay,” you smiled, cheeks flushing. “It was nice to see you all.”

“You too,” Scott smiled, oh god, here comes the teasing. Eddie waved goodbye and was on his way. “Wow, that was,” your brother began, “Adorable!”Diane finished.

“I have to go back to work, so you need anything?”

“No Sweetheart not a thing,” the woman smirked. “Yep, I’m going back to work now.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After work the five of you had decided to head to the park, the kids bundled up as the cool November air made their cheeks rosy.

Diane was pushing Jenny on the swing as Matt climbed up on to the slide.

“Have you told him yet?” Scott asked from beside you. “Told him what?”

“About mom and dad, about what happened.”

“It hasn’t come up.”

“You need to tell him.”

“Why does it matter? We barely speak about them.”

“They died, we’re both still dealing with that.” You sighed, you’d both been young when your parents had passed, being brought up by your grandparents.

Your aunt Callie was your grandmothers sister, she saw a lot of her and your mother in you. It was a strange way to grow up, but you’d live longer without them than you did with them.

“I’ll tell him,” you said simply, “But only when I want too, I’d don’t want you making comments that forces me too.”

“Okay. I just … it caused some issues with me and Di. I see the way you look at each other, I don’t want you to go through that.”

That was true, he hadn’t told Diane until a couple years in when they argued. She had done something that upset Scott and she didn’t understand why.

“I get it Scott, I just … I don’t remember them much, I hate that it’s such an issue.”

“Me too, as soon as you get it out of the way, the sooner it’s done.”

“Daddy! Look!” Jenny squealed as she was swinging. “Look at you! Going so high,” he laughed. You looked down feeling a tug on your hand. “Hey bud, you okay?”

“Will you push me?” he asked.

“Sure thing!” You went hand in hand, Matt climbed up on the swing, laughing loudly when you pushed him. You’d missed this, so so much.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“I am going to miss you so much,” you said, giving your nephew a big squeeze, “But I promise I will see you soon.” Turing to Jenny you gave her a kiss on the head, “I’ll miss you munchkin.”

“Miss you.”

Standing up you hugged Scott and Diane, “Drive safe,” you said, “and call me when you get back.”

“We will, we’ll see you soon okay?” Di smiled, kissing your cheek. “Let us know about Christmas,” your brother spoke.

“I will.”

“It was great meeting you guys, hopefully I’ll see you all again soon,” Eddie said from beside you. Diane kissed his cheek, picking up Jenny who reached out for Eddies hair once more. He laughed, saying goodbye to the kids and your brother.

“Take care,” Scott said to you, “Love you.”

“Love you too.” The four of them climbed in their car, Eddie pulled you close. Sighing into his chest you hugged him, already missing them.

Leaning down to kiss your head he whispered, “You’ll see them soon, I promise.”

“I know, it just hurts my heart to watch them go.”

“I know Sweetheart,” he rubbed his hands up and down your back.

Once their car had gone from the street, you spoke, “Let’s go in, it’s cold out here.” Pulling Eddie by the hand, you wandered inside, you had to tell him. You didn’t want secrets, not after what he’d so bravely told you.

“You alright?” he asked softly, wrapping his arms around your waist so he could pull your back to rest against his chest. “Yeah, they all seemed to like you a lot, especially Jenny.”

“Yeah she’s a sweetheart,” he chuckled.

“Hey!”

“What?” he asked.

“That’s me!”

“Don’t get jealous on me, you’re my only sweetheart I promise,” he kissed the top of your head.

Turning in his hold, you looked up at him, “Can I talk to you about something?” you asked. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I just … Scott brought something up and he said about me telling you and he’s right it’d be shitty if I didn’t tell you.”

“Hey, you can tell me as much or as little as you want too. It works both ways,” he said softly, leading you to the couch.

“I wanted to talk to you about my parents. About why they’re not around,” you said.

“Okay,” he said, encouraging you to carry on. “They um … they passed when I was young. A-a drunk driver hit their car, so uh me and Scott were raised by our gran and grandpa.

“I just .. I wanted you to know. I try not to think about it, I was only 4 and Scott was 7, I don’t remember much about them. Just that they were kind, that was something my gran wanted me and Scott to keep, our moms kindness.”

Rubbing your face with your hands, Eddie wrapped you up into a cuddle. “Thank you for telling me that. I think they’d both be extremely proud, of you and of Scott,” he placed a kiss on your head.

“You think so?”

“I know so, and I do understand, how strange it is to loose your parents. My dad got sent to prison and my mom passed, it’s why I grew up with Wayne.”

“Oh Eddie I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart it’s okay, we were raised by great people and we make them proud every day. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for telling me too, I don’t want us to have secrets.”

“So we won’t, we’ll tell each other when we’re ready, so long as we tell, does that sound okay?” You hummed, nodding into his chest and letting him hold you.

“You spoke to me about them before you know?”

“I did?”

“Steve’s Halloween party, you were scared I had been drinking, refused to get in the car.”

You scrunched your face, trying to remember.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Eddies arm was around your waist, “Just don’t let Robin pour anymore drinks,” he said to Steve. “Yeah okay I won’t, you be careful.”

“Will do.”

Walking down the path, Eddie spoke once more, “Where are your keys Sweetheart.”

“They’re in my purse,” you fiddled with bag, opening it up and shaking the key.

“Great,” he said, taking them from your hand and going towards your car. It’d save you from picking it up in the morning. “W-wait Eddie you can’t drive!”

“Why not?”

“You’re drunk!”

“Sweetheart I’ve been drinking soda all night, I assumed I’d be driving someone home.”

“B-but I saw you! You had my drink!”

“Just a sip.”

“You can’t drive! It’s not safe!” you panicked, tears forming in your eyes. “Woah, it’s okay. It’s alright, if you don’t want me to drive I can … I can call Wayne and he can pick us up. Or we can crash here.”

You sniffled, “You can’t drink drive, we could hurt someone. You could kill someone.”

“Sweetheart what’s this about?” he asked, holding your face gently.

“He killed my parents, he was so off his head. He lived, only got a few-a few years! They died because he’d been drunk.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened to them. I promise you I’m not drunk okay, I would never lie to you. If you don’t want me to drive I won’t.”

Sighing you looked up at him, looking for any signs he was buzzed. “I trust you, but you have to promise me! You’ll never drive when you’re drunk!”

“I promise you.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“I remember,” you said, meeting Eddies eyes. “I didn’t want to bring it up until you were ready to tell me sober,” he explained.

“Thank you for doing that for me.”

“Sweetheart I would do anything for you. I uh I ..” he stuttered.

“You what?” you asked wide eyed.

“I like you a whole lot,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “I like you too.”

More than like.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I know that ending is gonna annoy so many of you 👹

Thank you so much for reading 🤍

Taglist : @corrodedseraphine @flawiette @witchwolflea @emxxblog @plk-18 @vintagehellfire @lma1986 @squidscottjeans @eddiesguitarskills @nanas-lasagna @halialex1119 @goth-cowgirl-03 @corrodedcoffincumslut @micheledawn1975

let me know if you want to be added 🤍

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Ocean is She(One-Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: Loki's POV summary till the Season 4 Midseason Finale.

Word Count: I just sort of poured out whatever I felt for this dude. Which all shades of sad mostly.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"This is Y/N. She is here to complete her college degree. She will be living here for now." That was the first time Loki saw you.  You stood out like a lost firefly in that lounge among the crowd of broken people on Hero Syndrome. While everyone was giving him the stink eye, you passed a flat smile towards his direction before being pulled by the others into questioning. What is someone like her doing here? Loki was meant to have it as a passing thought. But that passing thought slowly percolated into his life in the form he never really thought he would meet again- a friend. "It's okay, I'll have another one." You smiled at him when he took your cup of green tea your first morning there. And Loki would never admit to his ego that the first act of unadulterated kindness had made his heart sink a little into an unnamed ocean before covering it up with 'this woman must have an ulterior motive'. Ulterior motive. Loki was 'on guard' since then, trying to figure you out. You knocking on his door to join the others for a movie night, making him those heavenly molten chocolate lava cakes on his birthday, buying rings and bracelets that reminded you of him, falling asleep in his presence in the library, asking him to help you study for your exams, sending him pictures of cats on the campus, sharing latest memes with him to keep him up to date; everything you did was seen as motive of some bigger game for the God who had once fallen and twice died. But seemingly, he killed a part himself the day he told you about your origins and you did not blame him for a single second. And nothing was the same for God afterwards.

He started paying more attention to you. His initial reason was that unlike the clowns infesting the building always high on either adrenaline or coffee, you were a specimen that he could study. Right. He was studying how you had a habit of cracking your neck every hour no matter what you did. How you would interact with inanimate objects with emotions, like looking at your assignment on the laptop and asking it with tears in your eyes, 'Why won't you conclude yourself in a way that's not gibberish?!'; or how you would gently pat the car and say thank you whenever you arrived at your destination. How your eyes would light up every time you saw a little spawn of the dogs or cats and your voice would go higher to greet them. He was amused by how your calm persona would do a one-eighty when your menstruation cycle was on the verge of bleeding days. That was the exciting part of his day during the cycle- sitting close to your sweatshirt and shorts-clad figure sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV, watching you threaten anyone who passed the hall. That's all you were to him- an amusing human who helped him pass his days on earth. At least that is what he had convinced himself of, never realising how his day would start by coming out of his room looking for you. How he would take a tour of the entire Avengers facility to find you and when he did, he would play himself off non-chalantly. He did not seem to let himself know how he would automatically come to stand by your side whenever he was to leave the facility and go out into the world. 

The narrator's heart often wonders how he could not see himself getting attached to you. Like that one time, he was the only one up beside Scott and Tony when you were out partying with your college friends; how he pretended to be drowned in a philosophy book while Tony worked on his robot babies and Scott watched the Kaichowa Maid Sama anime; how he intently listened to the phone call Scott got and he immediately recognised your voice even though he sat a bit far; how he heard your slurred words say 'Scottieeeeeee~ please take me home. I am drunkkkk and I kindaaaa don't want to stay heeeere'. "Of course, honey," Scott replied, "but it'll take me an hour to reach-" "Then send someone who'll be faaaaaasterrrrr~" you whined on the line.  Scott looked in the direction of the elevator, wondering whether to call Stark from his workshop when Loki slammed his book shut. "Turn on the sink tap," Loki commanded a confused Scott as he vanished with green and golden hues only to land on the campus grounds in a poorly lit park where you were sitting in the cold grass, your phone still to your ears. "Scott," you whispered into the phone, "you don't understand. I am drunk and I am feeling these waves of horny-ness but I do not want to do it with anyone here!!!" "Let's go home," Loki announced as he stood in front of you, waiting for you to take his hand. And boy did he feel his heart do another dip in that unknown ocean when you smiled at the God with a shade of relief and hugged him the moment you were up on your legs. "Thank you for coming for me." The wave of feeling his heart about to take another dunk into that ocean, he immediately teleported back with you, making sure both you and he landed right next to the sink to help you puke your wobbling guts right into the sink.

As time passed, Loki grew more used to your presence. From sitting together at breakfast and sharing one cup of tea to having reading sessions in his room on his bed. You were one of the rare ones who were allowed to enter his sacred space. No one knew but he thoroughly enjoyed the waves of emotions that would run over your features at different times when you became too engrossed in a manga. Sometimes it was your uncontrollable laughter where you read the same pages again and again; other times it was the repeated punches you threw either on your thigh or on the bed when you found yourself being impressed by something. But then there were the times when you would be in tears when one of your favourite characters died, and you could not stop yourself and Loki would look at you, with the intensity of the moon, wanting to stop time and do something...anything to stop you from crying. 

He did get tested for his belief of looking at you as a specimen. That one time when you and Hope fell into the other end of the universe. This God was ready to draw blood if it meant bringing you back in one piece. Once you were home safe, he could not help but overthink as to why did what he did for you. You were a mere human.  You were not supposed to mean much to him. You were just his amusement. Right? Just his amusement. The very amusement who stood in a barren alien land in front of the most delirious alien army, making Loki calculate in one point two seven seconds how he was about to lose his sleep for the next three months if he was to keep you alive while trying to find a way back home. Home.  Earth isn't my home, he would mentally slap himself back to reality whenever he caught himself thinking of the Avengers facility and the other clowns. But then he would turn to look at you.  Earth was your home. And going home would make you happy. He wanted to see you happy. Another mental slap to his head. You are losing your edge, Loki, he would bully himself to keep himself cold and calculating throughout that demanding journey of looking after you and the monster you had adopted on your way. And of course, Javi.

Any other day, any other life, any other universe, Loki would have punched the numbers as to how useful you were to him dead or alive and then be his way once you fulfilled your purpose of helping him survive. But here, he was doing the basing math of making sure to get you out of all the darkness of the universe unharmed. But life, as we know, has other plans. The music genre too changes when the playlist is on random and the heart is set on adventure for one and survival for another. Aellae came as the genre of dread and darkness. Being well aware of her obsession and abuse of power, Loki knew she would see you as a threat; for she knew the God of Mischief never travelled in a pack unless that pack had Loki's prey or something Loki wanted to keep close. So his first thought was to call in the seven Gods while 'ditching' you in the middle of a desert. Little did he know that you too were thinking from your heart in that space and time. As much as he hated to see you come for his rescue, he would never give up on the time when you two were stuck in that small space in Aellae's dungeons, trying to find a way through the room, bodies covered in sweat, your back and his front finding the angles to become one as you both pushed your way out. How synchronous were your bodies working together, how you readily trusted him with touching you in a way he would never want to witness you being touched by anyone. Why was he thinking that way? All those questions, all those confusions, all those hours of his inside voices bullying him to see you as nothing but a human ticket to a life of peace back on earth- all of them burst with the brittleness of the snow that fell on you as your lifeless figure lay in his arms. This time when his heart sank into the ocean, it did not want to come up. The God could not sense anything but fear crawling on his skin when his hand touched your face and it did not feel warm anymore. Your usually cheerful eyes did not open when he called out your name again and again. The fear he had felt when he first found himself dying when he wanted to live, was nothing in that moment when he was faced with the reality that you might be dead. And just as that little speck of possibility crossed his mind, the hell inside him broke loose, causing a wave originating from his magic destroying everything within a radius of two kilometers. Ever since he was born, Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, the Silvertongue, took to his knees for the first time for a life that was not his. He begged for your survival at the cost of his own, no longer denying himself from the truth. His heart did not come up from that ocean that carried your name on every atom in its waves. You were his reason to laugh. You were his reason to be curious in this life. You were his reason to look forward to getting up the next morning.  You had been the reason he had not gone for Plan B of running away from Earth and ending in the bosom of some dying star that would end his misery.  You were the reason he was willing to live a little longer. You were the reason he was ready to love again. 

Even when back from the horrors of the universe, Loki did not stop looking after you. He let Peter in on the secret of your near-death experience because he trusted that boy and he knew how much he cared for you. Both he and the boy would discreetly look for signs of you experiencing any discomfort. Taking shifts in the night, they would help you get out of your nightmares- which were the after-effects of healing you back to life right from the arms of death herself. Loki grew more protective of you but would distance himself whenever found himself feeling whatever little ounces of happiness his heart felt in your company. He would walk the extra mile of punching a man in his face for disrespecting you but he found himself pretending to laugh at your heartfelt confession because his heart could not bear the truth of knowing that you loved him back. You loved him. You, the perfection that walked amongst mere peasants. Loved. Him. And he laughed. He laughed hard enough to hide his tears of happiness that hurt him to the point of no return. He could not let you do that. You were too precious. Too precious to be put in danger again. He was the danger. He brought death to you. He would rather die than do that to you ever again.  And so the God decided to walk away, let out his screams in the middle of the desert to kill his heart for finding love in this lifetime and then hating the fact that it loved him back. The God was no better than a human then. He was in love. But he could hold on to that love for the fear of breaking it with his ill fate.

[dira333]

Heartbeat - McCoy x Reader

Prompt: Hear my Heartbeat? Just focus on that.

TW: Readers friend dies during labor, leaving the couple with a child to take in.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.”

Your face is pressed against Leonard’s chest as you force yourself to breathe in tune with him.

His heartbeat seems to sound through you, the only thing in the world that matters.

Five hours earlier your best friend has gone into childbirth. And you had not been there with her.

Four hours earlier there had been complications. And you had not been there with her.

Two hours earlier your best friend had given birth to a healthy boy. But she had not been conscious, had not been able to meet her son.

One hour earlier the doctors had fought for her life. But they had not won the fight.

“Two to beam up,” Mr. Scott calls from his place behind the glass wall, sending you an encouraging smile when the transporter room vanishes from your sight.

You appear in a transporter room that looks almost perfectly alike. Only Mr. Scott is not there, in his place sits a dark-skinned woman that sends you a comforting smile.

“Welcome to the USS Bradbury. Dr. Hagen is awaiting you in med-bay.”

You’re unable to speak, unable to walk until a warm hand finds a place on the small of your back.

“Come on, darling,” Leonard tells you, before thanking the woman working the transporter.

- It takes you fifteen minutes to get to med-bay. You want to turn around and bolt every single one of those fifteen minutes, but you can’t. This is about your friend.

“Did she tell you that she was pregnant?” The elderly CMO asks and you force a nod.

“Of course.”

“I assume you’ve been informed that the father died in an ion storm three weeks after the child was conceived.”

“Yes,” you croak, thankful for Leonard’s arms holding you upright.

“Are you aware that you are the noted as next of kin and therefore the first to be asked to take the newborn?”

“What?” You whisper in shock. Your body moves and just moments later you fall into a chair, your own weight pulling you down until you’re unable to get back up.

Leonard’s the one speaking now.

You look at his lips, trying to read from their movement.

He’s not angry, but he looks like he cares about whatever the answer to his questions will be.

The doctor raises his hands and you still wonder who he is waving too when a nurse appears on your side, handing you a bundle.

The boy looks just like her. Her skin tone, the color of her hair, the curve of her lips are all the things you see at first.

You hold the baby close.

- “What are we going to do?” You ask hours later, you head resting against Leonard’s chest, “They want us to decide..”

“Darling, she was your best friend. You were like sisters. I don’t think you would ever be able not to keep the boy.”

“I’m sorry. You said you did not want another kid.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, kissing the crown of your head, “I wasn’t planning one, not wishing for one either, but he needs us.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, unable to tell him how thankful you are. That he is here. That he loves you. That he is who he is.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that,” he tells you and you do as he asks.

- Days later you step into the room that is now the nursery only to find him holding the little boy.

You stop to lean against the doorway, watching him stand there in old sweatpants and a grey shirt that has been washed exactly the right amount of times to be comfortable and unsightly.

“And your last name’s going to be McCoy, which is a good name, I can tell you. As soon as you’re old enough, I’m going to tell you about your grandpa, the man I got my last name from. And look,” he reaches out one hand to pick up the holo picture you’ve placed close to the crib, holding it out for the baby to see, “That’s your mom and your mama. Both in one picture. As soon as you’ve gotten your naptime, I will tell you a few things about those two.”

He carefully lays the boy down, before turning around, freezing for the tiniest moment when he sees you standing there.

“You were watching?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” you answer and get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Wasn’t a conversation,” he tell you, guiding you out of the room, “He didn’t seem very interested in what I had to say.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.” He whispers in your hair.

[theatlasenigma]

based on this denholm brothers/pirates smp god au (go check it out before you read this, otherwise my writing will make no sense whatsoever lmao) by @sweetsmalldog, which has had me in an absolute chokehold for the last day or so since i discovered it. so here, have this quick writing dump because i needed to get it out of my system.

imagine the detached and vengeful sun god in the aftermath of the mortal denholm brothers’ deaths. the sun god, furious at the injustice and cruelty, stepping forth to unleash all hell on these vile mortals who so callously slaughtered their children in the hopes of becoming famous themselves. except he falters, because the pair of too-still bodies before him are so agonisingly small, so painfully young, so devoid of life. in a split second decision, he imbues them with a fragment of his own divinity. and so ruby red becomes gold, and so the the sickly sweetness of ichor mixes with the salt of iron in the heavy air.

imagine the regal and proud sun god falling to his knees before the now godly twins, pulling them into an embrace that smells of the warm sea breeze, the hot wood of a ship’s deck under the sun, the sweetness of ripe fruits in the height of summer. whispered i’m sorries, you didn’t deserve this, if i had known i would have saved you, would have stopped the people who did this to you. the stifled hiccupping sobs of two brothers who, even after death and then ascension, are still afraid of what this adult will do if they show too much of their emotions. tears and snot stain his shirt but he finds he does not care. he has a thousand shirts but only this one moment and these two children.

imagine the harsh and distant sun god teaching the brothers the ways of godhood. how to stretch their wings and soar, how to bless without burning themselves up in exchange, how to give and delight and laugh. some day he will have to teach them how to take and how to punish but for now they are two brothers amongst the stars and they play and fly and run and they have never been so free.

imagine the indifferent and brutal sun god learning how to care for these godlings he took under his not-so-metaphorical wings. he finds that gentle words and reassuring warmth do not come so easily to him, a creature of pure blinding light and raw blazing heat, and so as the brothers learn to stretch and grow he learns to listen and love. and on those nights when acho wakes up screaming, or those days where scott can barely stomach leaving the safety of his room, the sun god is there to hold them close and whisper sweet nothings to them until their tears dry up and fear-frozen bodies relax. 

imagine the divine and powerful sun god, watching over the antics of the children he saved. though if what he did really can be considered ‘saving’ is a question he will lie awake for hours racking his brain for the answer to. he and the brothers will be joined by more, a clever daemon with skin like blood and claws of pitch that feigns indifference, a cunning explorer with a silver tongue and eyes like sunsets who strains for freedom, a war-like but steadfast woman who shouts and laughs almost as loudly as the twins. when the orange-eyed adventurer makes a jibe about the star-spattered lines across their necks and the sun god sees both stiffen in discomfort, he sends a flick of fire in the unruly god’s direction to discipline him. when the soot-stained war goddess shouts loudly enough to make acho or scott flinch, the sun god is there to provide reassurance and remind the woman to heed the boys’ fear. when the pitch-robed god of monsters play-fights too roughly and ichor is spilled, the sun god bandages the injuries and gives the daemon a stern warning to take care. 

they may have their occasional clashes, but they are freed from the shackles of mortality now and spread their wings in a palace amongst the stars. and if legend tells of a pair of boys who haunt the town where they were slaughtered like sacrificial lambs, well, they might occasionally pay a visit to remind the residents of those stories and their worth. tell tales of childlike laughter carried on the breeze, a flash of red hair, a flutter of wings and too-sharp teeth, lest you be lost to the depths like the parents of those starshine children so long ago.

[luv-elixir]

❧ Body Electric-prelude ☙

Stepfather Leon S. Kennedy x reader

18+ Content warnings : Stepcest, manipulation, power imbalance, naive reader, age gap, corruption, dumbification, c*m-fetish, slight size kink, slapping, spitting, degradation, stepdad!Leon, somewhat yandere!Leon, stepdaughter!reader, reader has a tiny electra complex. (Slight mentions of reader being verbally abused by mother along with mommy/daddy issues.) Porn with SLIGHT plot.

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN BELOW; ALL THAT IS WRITTEN IS PURE FICTION AND FANTASY!

Summertime was always a weird time for you.

When you were a child, your parents would just send you off to a camp to avoid dealing with you for a while, and when you were sent back home, you’d hide in your room while they fought for hours on end.

Even after they got divorced, the arguments seemed to never end. A constant battle over who would have the responsibility of caring for you all summer finally being settled when your grandmother offered to take you in until the season was over.

Now, as a university student, you would be spending your summer at your mother and her new husband, Mr. Kennedy's, home.

Interactions with both your parents had been scarce when you started university. You simply just didn't have the time or energy for them to berate you with your hectic schedule. It was no surprise to hear your mother had been dating; with your father getting married a few years prior and her having a few boyfriends here and there, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about her love life. You did start caring when she told you she was engaged.

It came as a huge shock when you finally met the mystery man.

He was handsome.

Everything about him was striking; he was an Adonis, simply too beautiful to be human. So beautiful that you nearly forgot your mother was right there and that the only reason you met was because he was to marry her.

How could your mother draw a man like him into her iron-clad grip? He was charming, caring, attentive, conscientious, and frankly too good for a woman like her, or anyone for that matter. Leon Scott Kennedy was simply too good to be true.

You truly had no idea how they had gotten into a relationship. Hell, you didn't even know your mother wanted to get married again. It was all a huge question mark for you. The only thing you were sure of was his name, age, and your affinity for him.

The wedding happened exactly three months after you met. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the sinful thoughts you had as they married. He just looked so handsome in his suit that you couldn’t help but fantasize about his big hands touching you, ignoring the wedding band tying him to your mother.

Laying in bed that night, furiously rubbing your aching clit, you moaned his name and thought of how you wished he was yours instead of your mother's. But more importantly, you tried to pull your head out of the clouds and make yourself remember that it would never happen.

Little did you know that all those countless nights you spent fantasizing about him, he was thinking of you too. It was his fucking honeymoon and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Jerking himself off, thinking of your alluring face and delicate body. He couldn’t resist using the image of a little beauty like yourself to get him off, even while the beauty’s mother slept right beside him…

Ahh first real post !!! Hope you enjoyed this little prelude before we get to the real thing <3 once again this is a work of FICTION and I understand it is not everyone’s cup of tea. More lighter (and darker) fics will be posted soon - Luvie <3

[croziers-compass]

Summary Notes of Terror Camp 2023 (10.12.23)

(A small summary of notes and references I took during Terror Camp Day Two - Antarctic Exploration!)

Branwell's Death Narratives

Captain Scott - The narrative tilts. It tilts according to who's written it.

Vitai Lampada by Newbolt

The Book of the Long Long Trail - Newbolt

Scott Supporters vs Critics. Was he a fool or a misunderstood individual? Challenge the complexities with which a Narrative is design and revolved around. Interrogate the Narrative and where it came from!

Caitlin Branden

Personal Bias and Individual experiences steer your experience with a particular Polar Expedition

"A wonderful Evening"

Which Member of the Expedition Are You?

What attracts you to your Expedition? What about your Expedition draws you to it? What do you talk about when you talk about the Expedition of your Heart?

Rach

"Terrebus"

Narratology

"How do we frame the Narrative and How does the Narrative Frame us?"

"We cannot ask reason to take us across the Gulf of the absurd"

" The real Quest was the books we tried to write along the way " - R - The Discord Chat

"We all have our special little guys"

"Perhaps being haunted is part of being Human"

"Any Narrative can become dangerous if it becomes The Narrative. Be aware of the Biases off the Narrative you are writing. Take responsibility for the Narrative."

"Carry your little Guys in your pocket"

Emma J. P. - From the South Pole to the Stars

Incredible Parallels twixt the Astral Exploration of Space and the Antarctic / Polar Explorations with Antarctica being a simile for time spent off of Earth itself.

Empty and Vast

Roald's Narrative during the South Pole Expedition!

Sam Botz - The Feminine (?) Antarctic

"The Last Imaginary Place on Earth."

Antarctica The Woman - Stephanie Krzywonos

"Flying and Singing Like Sparrows" - Le Guin

Phil M. (linked to Patreon) (Paper Doll Polar Explorer's Sea Chest)

Ross and Crozier Expedition!

"They were Hut Mates"

Crozier Passed His Leftenant Exam at 21 in the year 1817 Ross and Crozier serving under William Perry

They Celebrated St. Patricks day!

McCormick is our Narrator through much.

"EVERYONE WAS WET"

⚓ Robert McCormick's geological collections from Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, 1839–1843

⚓ (Ross Volume 1) Voyages of discovery in the Arctic and Antarctic seas and round the world [microform] : being personal narratives of attempts to reach the North and South Poles ⚓(Ross Volume 2) A voyage of discovery and research in the southern and Antarctic regions, during the years 1839-43

by Ross, James Clark, Sir, 1800-1862 (links to Archive for JCR)

⚓Cunninham's Transcribed Journal

⚓ (An X/Twitter Acc. that follows JCR Expedition)

Becca (I got pulled away so my notes are sparse here) "I'll be blowed."

Some of these Cold Boys should not have been there. (The Scientists) Elephant Island was quite the ordeal.

Clark, Hussey, Wordie, James, the Four Nations that did not live together in Harmony.

All in the Middle of the Great War.

"Nerdy and Outside the Narrative"

Meg - Cold off the Press

"You tried"

"Mr. Clark proved the faunistic richness of the coastal Antarctic Waters, but, unfortunately, all his collections were lost with the ship."

Hussey - "This Scientist is an outlier and should not be counted"

Avery S. - Oddments, Riff Raff, and Pocket Full of Rocks

Dancing on Ice Floes

Giving sea shells as gifts!

-The importance of Collecting was incredibly valuably psychologically. To collect these specimens meant that one would have to survive to deliver them. It also helped create routine

Trading Rocks for Tobacco.

“Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, 'What is the use?' For we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which will not promise him a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers: that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin's egg.” - Apsley Cherry-Garrard

"When you reach out to understand the world, even scientifically, you are reaching out to understand your place in it." - Avery S (Polar Exploration Conference Terror Camp 12.10.2023)

"How McClintock Of You" - The Discord Chat

Key Notes: With Francis Spufford and Sarah Airriess

(I was very invested in the conversations so I did not write as much as I would have liked. But some critical things really stood out to me.)

The Homosocial responses/responsibilities between the men. Care-giving and demonstrating tender roles with one another. 'Unexpectedly Gendered'

Francis has not seen The Terror

The way of Knowing these people is very unique. Reading their letters and their diaries provides a particular perspective allows you to know what they really were like - more than what their fellows may have known. You see a more intimate part of these explorers through their very personal narrations through their journals and letters.

"People are clouds of possible selves." - Francis Spufford He goes on to say something along the lines of: "Which is the problem with storytelling - as a narrator of storytelling you have to decide what comes out and what fades in the background of their personality."

"You have to decide as a Narrator." - Francis Spufford

Empathy as a Tool for Understanding

(This part was incredibly important to me.)

Sarah goes on to explain (thereabouts): You have to Listen to people. They (people writing or creating a Narrative/Narration of events) look at a historical figure and get a "snap" of them. From there they decide that they know everything about them. From there, it's like Cinderella's shoe and the step-sister cutting off parts of her foot to make it fit. You need to let these people liver and breathe as a dynamic person with feelings and thoughts. You have to be truthful. Otherwise you are doing that person a disservice and shoving them into a specific box that is meant to just fit your Narrative. You should try and be empathetic to the individual you are writing about as if they are still alive.

Spufford goes on to extrapolate on that with (thereabouts): Finding out what people meant to themselves is important. Some things you want to keep at arms lengths but still play an intrinsic role in their character. Being empathetic to these people is critical to respecting and acknowledging them with care and showing them that you care about them.

"Captain Scott is a Myth"

"The Unified Field Theory of Cold Men."

"Neurotypical people don't go to the Antarctic. Normal people are not drawn to the Antarctic."

Extra Important Links:

These are just some that I have saved from the Terror Camp. There were so many more but here is a handful.

Observations on ca. 175-year old human remains from Antarctica (Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, South Shetlands)

Cheer_Scott_expedition

Ursula K. Le Guin Books: The Wave in the Mind Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (thriftbooks link)

An Empire of Magnetism (Global Science and the British Magnetic Survey in the Age of Imperialism) - Dr Edward J. Gillin

A Game! "To Keep the Meat"

The Popularization of Science in Nineteenth-Century America - Hyman Kuritz

"Have You Been There?" Some Thoughts on (Not) Visiting Antarctica - ADRIAN HOWKIN

The Ship that Never Was: The Greatest Escape Story Of Australian Colonial History - Adam Courtenay (Goodreads Link)

Tristian's Wordpress of Franklin Expedition Content

Francis Spufford! ⚓ Sarah Airriess ⚓

The Music Track for Terror Camp ⚓

Book Recs from Crewmate @jesslovesboats (thank you)

Thank you so much for the experience! This weekend was fantastic!

Personal Notes and Commentary

This was my first Terror Camp in its entierty. The weekend was such a delight. I had no idea what sort of experience I would be having. It was beyond my expectations. I got to learn a lot more about some of the other Expeditions that I was not as familiar with as I would have liked to be. My book list has expanded by a decent number. Getting to listen to Nive Nielsen and Paul ready was incredible. I loved everything about this experience. I cannot wait for @terrorcamp to announce the next year's event. I will certainly be attending it without a doubt. I look forwards to future projects and staying in touch with anyone else that would like to. Thank you again for such a wonderful experience! I want to give a shoutout to the people I know of the Tumblr Urls that contributed: @brainyraccoons , @jckielantern , @nopickls , @wllipt (who was a captioner), @vivtanner , @inkonfreshnewpaper - I do not know if I missed anyone. I went through the Muster Book to check out who had tumblrs. If I missed you, please let me know. I had a fantastic time. Thank you all.

With love, In heart and spirit, Second Leftenant, Wilbur