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d0ctorstea · 14 days ago

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Zayne request: reader is toxic, makes him jealous until he murders someone

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲▶ toxic games レイ

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ when you both are stuck in a toxic love

in which you, driven by a desire for control, manipulates zayne by making him jealous, flirting with other men to provoke his emotions and break his composure. as the tension builds, zayne ultimately snaps when you push him too far.

──── yandere ! zayne x gn toxic ! r ╱ ⌕ lovers2???, fluff ∿ w. unhealthy relationship ( they both are toxic ) , unethical relationship at the end ( kidnapper x hostage ) , romantic relationship , established relationship , cannon au , present timeline , second pov , yandere character , toxicity , not proofread wc. 5k (4,978) ｡｡ normally I don't want the first thing I write for a character to be this extreme, but I like this idea of they both being toxic.

☆ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 control. It was your domain, your power, the thing that made you feel invincible. You thrived in the spotlight, the rush of being the one everyone noticed, the one they desired, the one they couldn’t stop thinking about. You knew how to draw eyes, to pull people into your orbit and keep them there, desperate for more of whatever you were willing to give. But with Zayne, control felt different. It wasn’t just a game anymore. He wasn’t like the others. He was the type of person who seemed completely unshakeable—his composure, his quiet intensity, the way he moved through the world with that cold, yet somehow gentle, confidence. There was something about him that made you feel small, almost insignificant, in a way you hadn’t felt before. No matter what you did, your usual tricks, your charm, your manipulation—it couldn’t touch him. He was immune to all of it.

That unnerved you, more than you cared to admit. And you hated that. It was as if all your carefully honed skills, everything you’d relied on for years to control others, suddenly didn’t work on him. He made you realize that control wasn’t just about what you could make people feel. It was about what they made you feel, too. And Zayne made you feel weak, something you hadn’t been in a long time. So, you had to change that. You had to make him feel something. Anything. You couldn’t just let him stand there, unflinching, while you crumbled in the face of his indifference.

You would make him lose control. You would find his cracks, his vulnerabilities, and you’d exploit them, twist them until he was desperate for something he couldn’t ignore. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how deep you had to dig. You would make him feel what you felt—exposure, desire, the urge to dominate, to break free from whatever perfect calm he had. And when you saw that glimpse of him unraveling, just for a second, you'd know that you'd won. You would make him want you, in a way that he couldn’t hide, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. And that would be your victory.

It started slowly—at first, just the little things. Small, almost imperceptible shifts that only you could fully appreciate. A smile at a stranger in front of him, lingering just a little longer than necessary, enough to send a silent message, one that Zayne would notice. A laugh, louder than usual, trailing on for a beat too long, a bit too carefree, just to see the way his gaze would sharpen, just to see if the quiet undercurrent of jealousy might slip through his stoic exterior. A hand, resting just a bit too casually on another person’s arm, lingering in a way that hinted at intimacy, but was still entirely innocent—at least on the surface. Each gesture, each playful move, was a calculated test, a subtle way to pull him closer, to see if his composure would crack under the pressure of his own emotions.

Zayne always watched. You could tell by the shift in his posture, by the faint narrowing of his eyes, the way his focus would lock onto you whenever someone else caught your attention. You could see the subtle twitch of his fingers, the way his jaw would tighten, just slightly, whenever you gave someone else more of your attention than him. But he never said anything. He never confronted you, never made a move to challenge your behavior, never let his cool façade slip. He was too controlled for that. He’d simply observe, as though studying you, as though waiting for something—a reason, perhaps, to intervene. But the thing was, Zayne didn’t need to speak. His silence was its own form of power, a quiet reminder that he could see everything, even the smallest details, and yet he didn’t need to react.

It was maddening, in a way. You could feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface, but it was never released. And that made you want to push even more, to see just how far you could go before he couldn’t hide it anymore, before that mask he wore so effortlessly slipped and he lost the calm that made him who he was. You could almost feel him resisting, holding back, controlling himself just as you had always done. But you weren’t like the others. You knew how to play this game better than anyone. And you would make him play it, too.

The little things continued, and you watched him carefully, waiting for the slightest crack. Every look, every pause, every shift in his body language became a puzzle piece you were slowly collecting, until you were certain you’d figured him out. But the more you tried to get under his skin, the more you realized: Zayne wasn’t just observing you. He was studying you, too.

You didn’t care. Not anymore. The stakes had shifted, the lines had blurred, and you found yourself fully immersed in the game. The one you didn’t intend to play at first, but now couldn’t escape if you tried. A dangerous one. You could feel the rush of it—the thrill of uncertainty, the way every move you made had a ripple effect, stirring something in both you and him. There was something intoxicating about the risk, the way it made your heart race, the sense that you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t fully understand but craved all the same.

It didn’t matter if the consequences were uncertain or even dire. The deeper you went, the more you realized that you were hooked. The more you tried to make him react, the more you reveled in the challenge. It was about more than just control now; it was about proving to yourself that you could make him bend, that you could be the one to break his composure, to pull him into a chaos he couldn’t hide from. You could see the danger of it, the way you were both walking a thin line, playing with fire, but it only made you more determined.

You wanted him to feel the weight of his own restraint, to recognize that you were capable of pushing him further than anyone ever had. He had built walls around himself, walls that made him invulnerable, but you were testing those walls, chipping away at them slowly, strategically. You could see the way his control slipped sometimes, in those fleeting moments when his gaze hardened or his breath caught just slightly. You fed off that—fed off the power you held in those brief seconds when you knew you were getting closer to something real.

You didn’t care about what happened next. The danger only heightened your desire. There was no turning back now. Every step forward felt like a challenge, like a dare, and you were ready to take it. He was playing, too—his own dangerous game, his own silent war of restraint. But you wouldn’t stop. You’d keep pushing until you saw his resolve crumble, until you made him lose himself just as you were losing yourself in the thrill of it all.

It was no longer just about getting him to react. It was about survival now—surviving the storm you were both creating, the web of tension you were weaving around each other, until either of you knew which way was up.

The first time you pushed him too far, you didn’t even notice how deeply it was affecting him. At least, not at first. You were so focused on your own game, so caught up in the little victories you were winning that you didn’t stop to see the effect it was having on him. He was sitting next to you on the couch, his usual calm demeanor in place, his posture relaxed but alert, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike—except he never struck. He was always still, always controlled, and that only made you want to push harder. You wanted to see him break, to see a crack in that flawless exterior.

You didn’t even realize how much the situation had shifted until you glanced at him, catching the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes weren’t meeting yours anymore, but instead were locked onto something else—something that didn’t even matter. It was just a man you’d met earlier that day at a café, someone who’d caught your attention for a few fleeting moments, someone who seemed harmless enough. The guy wasn’t even particularly interesting—nothing special at all, really. He wasn’t the kind of person you’d ever consider making a connection with, not in any real sense. But it wasn’t about him. It was about you and the way you interacted with him.

The way you spoke to him, leaning in just a little too close, letting your laughter linger in the air between you like a secret shared in public. The way your eyes sparkled when he laughed at your jokes, a hint of something more, something playful in your gaze, like you were enjoying something that wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes. The energy between you and this stranger was light, almost flirty, but it wasn’t the stranger who caught Zayne’s attention—it was you. It was the way you were so effortlessly magnetic, so effortlessly in control of the situation, making the man laugh and smile as if it was your natural state of being.

You didn’t realize that every second of it was eating at him. The more you leaned into the conversation, the more you reveled in the attention you were getting, the tighter his grip on the edge of the couch became. His fingers were curled into the cushion, so subtly you almost missed it. His lips pressed together, holding in whatever thought or emotion was rising in him, and there was a slight flare in his nostrils, a tension building in the lines of his face that you mistook for nothing more than his usual impassive nature. But it was different this time. There was something more to it. It wasn’t just indifference anymore.

You didn’t notice at first. You were too lost in the moment, too wrapped up in making the man feel like he was the only one in the room, when in reality, Zayne was the one you were trying to make feel something. But as you continued to weave your charm, to let your body language say things that your words never could, you felt a shift in the air. The temperature seemed to drop just slightly, the weight of something unspoken settling between you and Zayne, though he still never moved. His gaze was fixed on the conversation, but his attention was on you.

And that was when you realized—just for a moment—that you’d crossed a line. Not with the stranger, not with the man you were charming, but with Zayne. The look in his eyes had changed, a flicker of something more dangerous, more desperate than anything you’d ever seen from him.

It was subtle, at first. The way he sat there, still and composed, but something deep inside him was rattling, was beginning to crack under the pressure. You didn’t see it for what it was at the time—didn’t realize the depth of how far you’d pushed him. But you knew one thing for sure: you had made him feel something. And that was just the beginning.

Zayne sat silently, his fingers gripping the armrest so tightly you could hear the faint cracking of the wood. His gaze didn’t leave you, but it wasn’t filled with the warmth it usually held. It was something darker, something you didn’t recognize at first. It wasn’t until you saw the faint flicker of pain in his eyes that you realized just how much this was eating at him.

"Are you jealous?" you asked, your voice light, playful, laced with a challenge you knew would catch him off guard. You turned to him with a teasing smile, fully aware of the way his hands trembled, the subtle signs that his calm façade was slipping. There was a rush in watching him like this, in seeing him so close to losing control, yet still trying so damn hard to maintain that carefully constructed composure. "Zayne, you're acting a little possessive."

"I’m not," he replied quickly, the words coming out too fast, too tight, as though he were trying to convince both you and himself. He shifted in his seat, his eyes briefly flickering toward you before quickly darting away. He looked anywhere but at you—at the man in front of you, at the space between you and him, at the growing tension that was slowly suffocating the room. "I just… I don’t like seeing you with others."

It wasn’t anger you heard in his voice. It wasn’t frustration, either. It was something quieter, something far more dangerous—quiet pain, a raw vulnerability he had no idea how to mask. It was the kind of emotion Zayne rarely allowed to show, the kind of thing he fought tooth and nail to keep buried beneath that unshakable confidence of his. The way he couldn’t hide the conflict in his eyes, the soft tightening around his jaw, made it clear that this was something new, something unsettling for him. And that—that—was what made you want to push harder.

You leaned in closer to the man in front of you, casually brushing your fingers against his wrist, a small, deliberate touch meant to further fray the edges of Zayne’s patience. Your fingers lingered, almost sensually, and you could feel the brief moment of discomfort pass through Zayne like a shockwave, his breath catching just slightly, his gaze flicking to you for an instant, as if pleading with you to stop, even though he wouldn’t say it.

"You’re being ridiculous," you said, turning back to Zayne, offering him a smile that was all mischief and challenge. You could feel the air thickening around you, a quiet, electric tension hanging between you, one that both of you knew was building to something neither of you could fully control. "I’m just talking to him. It’s not like I’m going anywhere."

But the words felt hollow, even to you. They were a lie, a small lie, but a lie nonetheless. You knew you were testing his limits, carefully prodding at the fragile boundaries of his control, trying to see just how far you could push him before that veneer of perfect composure shattered. You wanted to see the real Zayne, the one who was buried beneath that cold, distant mask. You wanted to see him unravel, wanted to make him feel the sting of something he couldn’t just ignore.

And deep down, beneath the thrill of the game, you couldn’t help but feel an addictive pull—the kind of thrill that only came from playing with fire and watching it dangerously inch closer to your skin. It wasn’t just about control anymore, not entirely. You didn’t need Zayne to be perfect, to remain untouchable, to stay that calm, composed version of himself that always seemed to hold the upper hand. No, what you wanted now was more visceral, more raw. You wanted him to break. You wanted to see him give in to the things he fought so hard to control—the need, the jealousy, the desperation. You wanted him to need you in a way he couldn’t deny.

And that need, that crack in his armor, was what you’d been searching for all along.

You started ramping it up. Little by little, the teasing became deliberate, each move calculated to draw him in, to make him feel something that he clearly didn’t want to. You knew the game now, the push and pull of it, and you had a new goal: making Zayne feel the weight of his own emotions. The more you did it, the more exhilarating it became. At parties, you’d flirt shamelessly with anyone who paid you attention—men, women, whoever. It didn’t matter. You were just playing the role, letting the attention flow over you like a second skin. Men would circle around you like moths to a flame, laughing at your jokes, offering you drinks, as if you were the only one in the room worth talking to.

But you weren’t focused on them. Not really. You were always aware of Zayne, always watching him out of the corner of your eye. Every time you threw a glance his way, you caught the subtle shift in him. The tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with something that wasn’t anger—not quite. It was something worse, something darker. There was a flicker of possessiveness there, of something deeper and more desperate, and it made your pulse quicken. But he didn’t say anything. He never did. He just watched. And you fed off that.

One night, the atmosphere felt charged in a way that was hard to ignore. The music was louder, the people around you more animated. But there, in the corner of the room, Zayne stood, still as ever. And that’s when David appeared—a friend of a friend, someone you had met only briefly. He was tall, charming in that easygoing, carefree way, and it didn’t take much for him to pay you just a little too much attention. You could feel his eyes on you, the way he moved closer, offering you a drink, laughing too loudly at your jokes, all the while you stayed focused on Zayne.

You leaned against David a little more than necessary, letting your fingers brush against his shoulder in a way that was just shy of too intimate. You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that lingered in the air, just loud enough for Zayne to hear. And when you turned your head, you saw it—the subtle shift in Zayne’s posture, the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the tightening of his grip on the glass in his hand. His eyes were locked onto you, unwavering, his gaze burning with something that left a familiar taste in your mouth—hunger. Not the kind you saw in others, not the lustful, surface-level desire, but something deeper, darker. A kind of need that Zayne wasn’t used to showing.

David, oblivious to the tension, leaned in a little too close, his hand drifting to your waist. His touch lingered just a moment too long, and that’s when you saw it—the flash of raw emotion in Zayne’s eyes, something dangerous, something feral. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even shift his position, but the weight of his stare was unbearable now.

You felt it. The hunger. The way Zayne was holding himself back, trying to keep his composure even as his whole body seemed to vibrate with that suppressed urge. His restraint was almost painful to witness. It was a crack in his usual stoic demeanor, and it was growing wider with every passing second.

David’s hand didn’t move, his fingers still tracing the curve of your waist in that casual, possessive way. But the effect it had on Zayne was palpable. You could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut through, and you knew you’d pushed him to the edge. The thrill of it, the power you held in your hands, was overwhelming. You wanted more. You wanted to see just how far he would go, how much he would allow before he broke.

You leaned into David, just a little more, just enough to make Zayne feel that need, that yearning that was slipping out of him despite all his efforts to remain unmoved. You couldn’t stop now. You wanted to see him crack. You wanted to see just how far you could push him before the walls he’d built came crashing down.

"I think Zaynie’s getting jealous,” you whispered to David, your voice laced with light, playful amusement. You flashed a smile, all mischief and challenge, turning toward David as you leaned in a little closer, just enough to make your presence undeniable. Every word was a calculated move in the game you were playing, each glance and touch designed to draw Zayne’s attention even more.

David, clearly oblivious to the simmering tension, grinned wide, his casual demeanor making him seem even more disconnected from the storm brewing across the room. "I don’t see why he’d be. You’re just having fun."

“Exactly,” you said, leaning just a little further into the moment, letting your hand brush against David’s chest with a soft, deliberate touch. You could almost feel Zayne’s gaze on you now, like a physical weight pressing down on your skin, even from across the room. It was a tension that sparked in the air between you and him—something electric, something dangerous. A storm was building, waiting to burst. And you were the one holding the spark that would ignite it.

That was when you saw it.

Zayne’s eyes were no longer the calm, unreadable gaze you had come to expect. They were wild now—flickering with something raw and almost desperate. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his drink, the motion stiff, as though he were trying to ground himself. But you could see the blood draining from his face, the subtle clench in his jaw, the way his whole body was taut with restraint. He wasn’t calm anymore. Not the composed, cool Zayne who always seemed so untouchable. This Zayne was real. And that… that was what you had been waiting for.

And more than anything, it made your heart race.

You couldn’t resist. You needed to push him further, to test just how far you could make him crack. "Zayne," you called, your voice sugary sweet, dripping with mockery, just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough to leave a hint of challenge in the air. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His gaze snapped to you immediately. You could feel the tension shift in the room, all eyes momentarily drawn to the subtle but undeniable pull between you and him. But it wasn’t just his eyes that spoke—it was everything. The way his hands clenched and unclenched around the glass, his knuckles whitening, his body still as if every inch of him was holding back from breaking. You could practically hear the internal war raging inside of him. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. He didn’t even move.

Zayne was holding himself back. And that, more than anything, was exactly what you had been waiting for. The struggle. The pain of it. His silence only fed the fire in you. You knew how badly he wanted to say something, to confront you, to do something, but he couldn’t. Not yet. And you were going to make sure it stayed that way.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, your voice turning colder now, laced with a bit of dismissive amusement. You stepped closer to David, your fingers grazing the edge of his jacket with slow, deliberate care. The fabric felt smooth under your fingertips, almost like a challenge in itself. You could feel Zayne’s gaze following you now, intense, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to feel it. Every second of it.

“I’m just enjoying the night,” you continued, your words dripping with nonchalance. “Nothing more.”

You said it so casually, you were enjoying the night—he wasn’t. You could see it in the way his body was practically vibrating with the need to move, to say something, to stop you. And that, more than anything, was the victory. You had him on the edge, and you were going to keep him there.

Zayne’s fists tightened at his sides, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. It was a small, involuntary movement, but it spoke volumes—the tension, the growing agitation beneath his composed exterior. You could feel the shift, the subtle change in the atmosphere as his usually unreadable expression began to betray something darker. Something more dangerous.

Then, it happened. You saw it in his eyes—the flicker of something raw and predatory, something that you hadn’t expected to see from him. His usual mask, the one he wore with such effortless control, was slipping. Just a crack at first, but it was enough. You knew it was over.

Before you could even fully process the change, Zayne was standing in front of you, his movements sharp and quick, his presence overwhelming. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an ironclad hold that left no room for escape. His eyes locked onto yours, wild and unblinking, the intensity of his gaze enough to freeze you in place. His face, usually composed, was flushed with emotion. But it wasn’t just anger you saw—it was something darker. Something that made your blood run cold. It was an obsession.

“You think you can do this to me?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but it carried a weight to it—something dangerous, something that sent a chill straight to your core. “You think you can make me watch you with other men, laugh with them like you’re laughing with me? You think I won’t feel anything?”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. This wasn’t the Zayne you knew. This wasn’t the calm, controlled man you had been toying with all this time. This was someone different, someone raw and unrecognizable. And in that moment, you realized—it wasn’t just a game anymore. This was something you had created. You had pushed him past the point of no return, and now you were dealing with the consequences.

Before you could even form a response, Zayne’s grip on your wrist tightened, dragging you forward with a force you couldn’t resist. His movements were desperate, his urgency palpable as he pulled you out of the room. The hallway was dark and silent, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions playing out between you. His fingers dug into your skin with an almost painful intensity, but you didn’t dare pull away.

“You wanted me to break,” Zayne hissed, his voice trembling, barely contained by a thread of restraint. The words were thick with something raw, something dangerous that you had no control over. “You wanted me to feel this. Now look at what you’ve done.”

Your mind raced, but your body was trapped—frozen by his presence, by the sheer force of his will. You wanted to reason with him, to make him see that this wasn’t what you had intended, but the words died in your throat. The look in his eyes told you there was no room for reason now. He wasn’t the same man you’d been playing with. He was beyond your control.

“Zayne, I didn’t mean it—” you tried to speak, but his eyes only darkened further, the fire in them burning brighter.

“You think you can leave now?” His voice dropped to a low growl, laced with venom. It was barely a whisper, but it was filled with something more threatening than any shout. “You belong to me. You’ll never leave. Not now.”

The weight of his words slammed into you like a freight train. Your breath caught in your throat, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This was no longer just about the game, the fun of pushing boundaries. You had awakened something in him—something obsessive, something primal—and now, there was no turning back. You were trapped, caught in the snare you had set for him, and there was no escape.

“No,” you protested weakly, your voice barely more than a breath, but it was futile. His grip tightened, an unyielding force that left no room for resistance.

Zayne dragged you down the hallway, his steps urgent, as though he knew he had no time to waste. The door to the apartment clicked shut behind you, and the sound of the lock twisting into place echoed in the silence.

“You wanted me to break,” Zayne whispered again, his voice thick with a mix of rage and something else—something dark, something needy. “Now you’re going to stay. You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the panic rising with every breath you took. You had pushed him, manipulated him, and now, you were the one at his mercy. He was no longer the composed figure you could toy with. He was something more dangerous, and you had no idea how to stop it.

Zayne paced in front of you, his hands twitching, as though struggling to contain the storm inside him. “I gave you everything,” he murmured quietly, his voice low, filled with something unsettling. “And now, you’re mine. Forever.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a dark promise you couldn’t escape. You wanted to protest, wanted to scream, but the look in his eyes—the wild intensity, the unshakable determination—told you it was pointless. You could see the finality in his gaze. He had made up his mind. You were trapped now, and the game was over.

“You belong to me,” Zayne whispered, stepping closer, his fingers curling around your wrist once more. His grip was firm, like a physical reminder of his hold over you.

Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. You had pushed too far. You had awakened something in him that you couldn’t control anymore. And now, you were going to pay the price.

Zayne’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something almost tender before they hardened once more. The possessiveness was unmistakable now. “You’ll never leave me,” he said, his voice steady, full of finality. “Not now. You’ll stay with me, and I’ll make sure of it.”

And in that moment, you knew that the game had ended. You had crossed a line, and now you were paying the price.

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 1 year ago

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any Husk headcanons?

Yes actually!

Let's start with the fact that I don't think he has ever truly been at an Overlord level of evil. Arrogant, power-hungry, and mischievous? Absolutely. But he wasn't in the same league of villainy as Alastor or Valentino. He got to the top by being lucky and playing his cards right, yet lacking the ruthlessness required to stay there.

At the height of his game, he was living it up, throwing these epic parties at his casino that everyone who was anyone in Hell made sure to attend. Unlike other Overlords, he wasn't all about plotting and taking over Hell – he was the life of the party, had killer taste in music, and always brought in top-notch performers. It was a joy to be around him, and everyone loved him. Or it looked like that.

He fell in love with one singer. When he was still "young", reckless and power-drunk, she seemed to be a perfect match for him. So beautiful everyone envied him, so talented her voice could enchant the whole ballroom. She commanded the crowd effortlessly like a goddess; she was the most charming arm candy, and she was so smart and cunning she could easily keep up in conversations with people of higher status. Husk worshipped the ground she walked on, and she was always by his side, his Lucky Charm. But then, he hit rock bottom, losing his money, his casino, his everything. And when he needed support the most, all those fair-weather friends, including Lucky, vanished because he wasn't useful to them anymore. That broke him – realizing that everything he thought he had in Hell was just an illusion. No one really cared about Husk; they were there just for the Overlord of Gambling. Ironically, Alastor turned out to be the only honest one because he never pretended it was anything but a game for him.

That's why Husk initially despised Angel's "fakeness" so much—he had encountered too many deceitful people in his life, and one of them had ruined him forever. He's also deeply ashamed of his past because he loathes the Overlords and everything they stand for, yet he's convinced that deep down, he's no better than them. He doesn't think he deserves to be saved or even loved by Angel because, in his mind, he's not much better than Valentino. Especially after realizing how different Angel is from Lucky, he feels he deserves him even less. Yes, he has come to terms with being a loser baby because he lost everything to his gambling addiction, but he has never fully forgiven himself for being part of the cruel system that exploits common sinners so the Overlords can indulge in endless parties and pointless fights.

#hazbin hotel #husk #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #headcanon #ask

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 19 days ago

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Hello! I really like your writing! If it's not too much trouble, may I request headcanons for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who's like Yor Forger "Thorn Princess" from the anime Spy X Family? They can be human, demon, or both. That's up to you! Thank you very much!

Warnings: none

Navigation!!

Thorns

Alastor would be instantly captivated by someone as multifaceted as you. At first glance, your charm and grace would seem like traits he could admire from afar, but the hidden lethality beneath your poised demeanor would absolutely thrill him. He thrives on complexity and chaos, and discovering that you’re a master assassin would feel like unearthing a rare treasure. He wouldn’t be scared of you; if anything, he’d be delighted by the dark elegance you bring to your craft.

Your ability to compartmentalize—switching seamlessly between polite, unassuming behavior and deadly efficiency—would fascinate him. Alastor would likely notice your duality almost immediately. His supernatural intuition wouldn’t let him overlook the way you carry yourself, the way your body language shifts depending on the company you’re in. The moment he catches you in the act of your deadly work, he’d applaud. Not mockingly, but as though witnessing an artist at their peak. “My dear, such finesse! You’re not just effective—you’re graceful. How inspiring.”

He would become a strange sort of ally, neither fully interfering with your work nor staying entirely uninvolved. He’d enjoy giving you cryptic hints or sharing information about potential targets, just to see how you’d handle it. However, Alastor would never make things easy for you; he’d enjoy testing your adaptability, putting you in situations where you’d have to blend into Hell’s chaos while maintaining your cover.

Though Alastor isn’t the type to coddle or openly protect someone, he’d take a certain pride in your independence. The fact that you don’t need him to save you would make you all the more appealing to him. If anyone dared to exploit your moments of vulnerability or threaten you, he’d consider it a personal affront. His retaliation would be swift, theatrical, and completely over the top—if only to remind everyone that you are not to be trifled with.

In quieter moments, he’d revel in your company, intrigued by the glimpses of insecurity or self-doubt you might reveal. If you ever expressed guilt or questioned the morality of your dual life, Alastor would assure you in his own twisted way that your complexity is what makes you extraordinary. “A killer with a conscience,” he might say, chuckling. “You truly are one of a kind, my dear. Keep spinning your web of lies and blades—it’s a masterpiece in motion.”

On the other hand, Vox would be drawn to you for entirely different reasons. Your elegance and subtle charm would immediately catch his attention, but it’s your deadliness that would make him stay. Vox has a taste for flair, and someone who can blend lethal efficiency with grace would strike him as the perfect combination of danger and beauty. He’d see you as someone who can rival his own sharpness, and that would make him want to know everything about you.

When Vox discovers your identity as an assassin, he’d be stunned but impressed. “You? You’re the one who’s been taking out high-ranking demons? Damn, sweetheart, I underestimated you.” Vox would admire your ability to move unnoticed through high society, flawlessly maintaining your cover while eliminating targets. He’d want to be involved—not because he thinks you need help, but because he’s curious and enjoys the thrill of watching you work.

Vox would often offer to lend his expertise, suggesting ways to use his technology to make your missions easier. He’d insist on creating gadgets for you, like a weapon disguised as jewelry or a hidden communication device to keep in contact during your jobs. Though he trusts your skills, he’d feel better knowing he can watch your back, even from afar. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve got this, but let’s just call it… insurance. For my sanity.”

He’d also be drawn to your softer side, finding your kindness and occasional awkwardness endearing. Vox would tease you relentlessly about how someone as sweet and polite as you could also be a deadly assassin, but there’d be an undertone of genuine admiration in his words. He’d especially enjoy watching you navigate situations where you have to switch between your personas, marveling at how effortlessly you transition from deadly to demure.

If you ever felt conflicted about your work, Vox would take a more reassuring approach. He’d remind you that the world is full of people playing roles, and yours just happens to be deadlier than most. “Everyone’s got a part to play, babe. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. Own it.” His support would come with a bit of playful arrogance, but his words would always carry sincerity.

Vox would be more protective than Alastor, though he’d try to mask it behind his usual bravado. He’d insist on being involved if he thought a job was too risky, even if it was just to make sure you had a backup plan. The idea of losing you would unsettle him more than he’d ever admit, so he’d channel that fear into ensuring you’re always prepared.

Both Alastor and Vox would find your duality irresistible, but their approaches to your relationship would be vastly different. Alastor would see you as a kindred spirit, someone whose complexity matches his own love of chaos and performance. Vox, meanwhile, would view you as the perfect partner in crime—someone who can keep up with his wit and energy while matching his flair for the dramatic. Both would respect your strength and independence, but they’d also take pleasure in the rare moments when you let them see the vulnerable side of yourself that you keep hidden from the rest of the world.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin demon #alastor #hazbin vox #isuckatwritingsobenice

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brbsoulnomming · 1 year ago

Text

WHERE NOBODY KNOWS YOUR NAME

For: @sharpbutsoft

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 14.9k

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, mention of alcohol and financial exploitation of child stars

Tags: Famous Steve Harrington, Bartender Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Snapshots

Summary: A drop dead gorgeous man walks into The Hideout one night while Eddie's bartending, and Eddie's absolutely determined to flirt with him. What follows is snapshots of the two of them growing closer and closer, all while Eddie's absolutely oblivious to the fact that Steve's secretly one half of the famous pop duo Scoops Troop.

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

-----

The prettiest man that Eddie has ever seen walks through the door of the Hideout, and Eddie damn near drops the glass he was rinsing out. It's not like their town's small enough that Eddie could actually recognize everyone in it, and the Hideout gets enough business that Eddie doesn't know everyone who comes in, but still, he was not expecting to get hit in the face with that kind of handsome on his shift tonight.

Sure, the nearby resort is a particular favorite among the wealthy elite - Eddie even heard there was one douchebag pop singer who booked the entire place for two weeks in the spring, apparently just so he wouldn't have to associate with any other guests - but they usually stay on the resort. It's rare for any of them to venture out into the town itself.

Pretty boy is wearing a dark blue polo with Hawkins Hope in Action stitched in yellow across his shirt pocket, which Eddie definitely does not notice purely because he's admiring the way it stretches across his chest. He takes an empty seat at the bar, pushing one hand through his hair as he scans the chalkboard specials they've got on display.

"You think it's as soft as it looks?" Chrissy asks, nudging him with her hip as she joins him in absolutely not just staring at the guy from the backroom.

He huffs out a little laugh. "I think you've got a better chance at me than figuring that out, Chris."

Still, he's fully prepared to head out there and try on at least a little bit of charm, until Jeff comes up next to them.

"I think Chrissy should head out there for a while," he says.

Eddie turns to fix him with a betrayed look. "What? Come on, man, I said Chrissy had a better chance, not that I had no chance."

Jeff nods towards the guy. "Look at him, he's all on edge."

And it's true - the guy's perched on the bar stool like he expects to have to bolt at any minute, and he's started to hunch in on himself like he's trying to take up as little space as possible.

It's kind of sad, actually, which unfortunately doesn't make him any less cute.

"So?" Eddie asks.

"So you know I love you, man, but you can be kind of a lot," Jeff says apologetically.

Eddie gasps, whirling to face Chrissy. "Can you believe this?"

Her nose is a little crinkled, lips turned down the way she does when there's a hard truth she doesn't want to tell him. "You're not always the most soothing presence," she admits.

He lurches back dramatically, hand over his heart. "Complete and utter betrayal, from my own best friends no less."

Jeff pats him on the shoulder. "You'll get over it."

"You can talk to him next time," Chrissy offers.

Which, considering pretty boy is probably staying at the resort and not going to come back, is small consolation.

But, well. He's probably staying at the resort and not coming back, so Eddie guesses he really isn't losing out on much by not getting to talk to him.

At least he can enjoy the eye candy.

He keeps an eye on them at first, only partially because of said eye candy - Chrissy can handle herself, but if the guy is going to be the typical resort douche, Eddie won't hesitate to come back her up. Pretty boy starts to relax a little the longer he's there, though, and Chrissy's doing the genuine smile she does when she has a good customer, so he doesn't worry about it.

By the time the guy leaves, Eddie's heard the sound of them laughing a few times.

"His laugh is just as pretty as the rest of him," Eddie sighs to Chrissy as they watch him leave.

"His name is Steve," Chrissy replies. "He works for that charity that's booked the resort this weekend for a fundraising event."

"That explains what he was doing here," Eddie jokes. "I knew we wouldn't see a resort guest slumming it at the Hideout."

Chrissy rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't disagree. "They work with kids in the foster care system," she says mildly. "They put on camps and events and things for the kids to come to, do fundraising to get money to support them. He spends most of his time with the kids.”

Eddie groans. “No, come on, that's not fair,” he whines. “Handsome and a pretty laugh and he works for a charity and it's for foster kids and he's likes spending time with them? He's gotta have some flaws. Maybe he's actually terrible with kids, maybe they all hate him.”

Chrissy giggles. “Maybe he leaves his wet towels all over the floor.”

Eddie nods. “Maybe he sings off key in the shower and it's awful and he won't stop.”

Chrissy gives him a little shove. “Well, Steve says they've booked the resort for a few camps and events throughout the rest of the year, so you'll have plenty of time to find out.”

“If he comes back,” Eddie points out.

“Oh, I have a feeling he'll come back,” she replies.

—

Steve comes back.

It's just him behind the bar tonight, with Gareth and Grant back in the kitchen, so Eddie spends a moment quietly collecting himself before he heads over.

Eddie shoots him a smile. "Hi."

"Hey," Steve returns, smiling at him in return - though it seems practiced, nothing like the soft, warm smile Eddie'd seen him give Chrissy when he left the other night.

Ouch.

"Chrissy's not working tonight," Eddie says, trying not to let his disappointment show.

Steve's face scrunches in confusion, a little furrow between his brow that Eddie has the immediate urge to reach out to try to smooth with his thumb.

What is wrong with him? He's usually way better at not letting customers get under his skin.

"Thanks for telling me?" Steve says, the end of the sentence raised up in a question like he's not quite sure he's giving the correct response.

"Just thought I'd let you know, in case you came back in hoping to see her again," Eddie says.

Steve's expression smooths out. "Oh. Nah, I just really liked the… atmosphere…"

He trails off, clearly aware of how what he's saying sounds, but Eddie makes a point of scanning around the bar anyway - it isn't empty, but it's not exactly crowded, either, occupied mostly by small groups who stick to themselves or solo patrons who are more interested in their drinks than engaging in conversation with other customers.

No one's paying the slightest bit of attention to them.

He cocks an eyebrow as he looks back at Steve, and now the smile he gets is a little less practiced, a little more genuinely pleased - maybe even a little teasing.

"Exactly," Steve agrees. "What's not to like about a place where nobody knows your name?

Eddie barks out a little laugh. "Not nobody," he returns. "It's Steve, right? I'm Eddie. What can I get you?"

He calls Steve's order of onion rings back to Gareth, then grabs a glass to get his beer.

"So, Chrissy said you work with the charity that rented out the resort?" he asks. "What do you do for them?"

Steve lights up a little at the question, which, unfortunately, makes him even prettier.

"I'm the activities director," Steve replies.

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he sets Steve's beer in front of him, inviting him to continue.

“I plan all the stuff for the kids to do at camp,” Steve clarifies.

His eyebrows go even higher. “That sounds exhausting.”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “Sometimes,” he admits. “But I don't, like, personally do all of them. Some of the other staff will take lead on things that interest them - like Nancy does journalism and writing workshops, and Lucas picked up basketball, Jon does photography, and Robin's doing film watching and analysis. We actually do a lot of partnerships, too, get people to come in and do guest spots leading activities for like a week.”

Right, Eddie's pretty sure he heard that Hawkins Hope was a celebrity sponsored charity. Makes sense why they're able to afford using the resort for things.

“So what do you take lead on, then?” Eddie asks, mentally hi-fiving himself for finding an effortless way to ask Steve about his interests.

He's pretty sure it doesn't go unnoticed, because Steve blinks at him for a moment before he gives him just a little bit of a smirk.

It's a good look on him, though, so Eddie doesn't mind one bit.

“Swimming,” Steve replies. “Mostly lifeguarding, if we're somewhere on the water, and I do lessons. Baseball in the summer. Ice skating in the winter. Music, sometimes. Cooking. I'll pretty much fill in whenever I need to.”

Eddie's not surprised that the majority of those were sports, but it does mean he flounders a little bit in the next step of his plan - find a common interest and get his flirt on. He's a decent enough cook, but it's not exactly something he does for fun. Which means he's got one option left, and he latches onto it eagerly.

“What kind of music?” he asks.

Steve watches him for a moment, like he's waiting for the punchline. Or waiting to be judged, maybe - maybe the guy only likes Top 40s and is used to being looked down on from guys wearing Dio t-shirts.

And all right, Eddie might judge him a little - but only teasingly, and only if he knew him better. So he just waits, hoping he looks as genuine as he means to.

“I'm not picky,” Steve says finally. “I can find the merit in just about anything. It's not about the genre to me - it's about how the song makes you feel, if you can connect with the lyrics or if the music stirs some kind of emotion in you that you didn't even know was there.”

Oh.

“I get that,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Like - it's not what I usually listen to, and it's not what people expect, but my mom loved Bluegrass and country. I hear it now and it makes me think of her. I still end up singing Hazel Dickens or Loretta Lynn when I clean the kitchen, makes me feel like she's there with me.”

And there's that soft, warm smile that Eddie'd briefly seen him give Chrissy - only now it's even worse because it's directed at him, and it keeps lingering.

“Yeah,” Steve says again, but this time it sounds like you really do get it.

“So, it, uh, sounds like you like what you do,” Eddie says.

“I love what I do,” Steve agrees. “What about you?”

Eddie shrugs. “Can't complain. I get a lot of freedom here, actually. I'm the one that comes up with most of the drinks on our specials list.”

That's usually the most he goes into it, but Steve's still looking at him, so much less closed off than he was when he first came in, and he leans in like he's interested.

So when Steve asks him to tell him more about it, Eddie does. How it's not what he thought he'd be doing after high school, but then, he hadn't really given a lot of thought to much of anything after high school while he was still there, too busy just trying to graduate. How he likes the people he works with and the Hideout itself, how much fun it is coming up with his own drinks, how he's gotten to the point where he can figure out the best drink for someone before they even know what it is themselves.

And all right, he'd maybe been bragging a little, maybe said that with just a little bit of a cocky smirk to see the reaction he gets, but he's still a little bit surprised when Steve picks up on it and gives it back.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “Do me, then.”

Eddie smiles at him, pleased. “What's the first cocktail you order when you go somewhere new?”

“House special,” Steve replies immediately, shooting him a little smirk.

Eddie gives him a look.

“It's true!” Steve insists. “I can get an old fashioned or a margarita anywhere, but the house special is usually something unique.”

Eddie considers that. “What's your go to drink if you're making yourself something at home?”

“Lemon drop,” Steve says. “They're my best friend's favorite, I learned how to make them for her. It's the only drink I can pull off that isn't just popping a can of beer or pouring a glass of wine.”

Eddie hums. He already knows Steve's taste in beers, so - “Red or white wine?”

“White in the summer, red in the winter,” Steve replies.

“Whiskey or tequila?”

“Whiskey.”

“Apple cider or hot chocolate?”

“Apple cider.”

Eddie manages to fire off questions like that for a while, and Steve even plays along when he asks him something that clearly has little to do with his drink preferences - though Eddie is absolutely ready to spin a tale about how it's vital to know if someone is a summer or a winter person for flavor choices, and being a romance or a horror fan will tell him how adventurous they are if Steve questions it.

Steve doesn't call him on it, though he does raise one eyebrow and give him a little smirk at each one, which leads to Eddie dropping into his explanation, anyway.

He wants someone to appreciate his brilliance.

It makes Steve laugh, warm and a little surprised, like he hadn't been expecting it. “Does that excuse work?”

“I don't know,” Eddie admits. “I haven't tried it on anyone else. What do you think?”

Steve hums, eying Eddie up and down in a way that, ridiculously, makes Eddie want to hide behind his hair.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I could see it working. Depends on how good your drink ends up being.”

That gets Eddie back on more confident ground, and he points dramatically at him. “Prepare to be wowed.”

Steve's an autumn person who likes apple cider, whiskey, and action films, so Eddie makes him a spin on a whiskey highball with ginger ale, apple juice, and cinnamon simple syrup.

Steve takes one sip and immediately looks delighted. It's far from the first time that Eddie's gotten that reaction, but coming from Steve, well.

Eddie doesn't want to say that it makes his whole week, but it kind of makes his whole week.

“This is amazing,” Steve says. “You do this all the time?”

“Eh, just when I feel like showing off,” Eddie finds himself saying, which is true but is definitely not what he wanted to admit to.

Steve's finally looking reasonably relaxed, though, so he can't bring himself to regret it.

“I hope you know you've set yourself up for having to do this every time I come in,” Steve tells him.

Eddie grins. “I'm holding you to that. Better not see you getting drinks from one of the other bartenders here,” he teases.

He's joking - really, he is - but when Steve laughs and agrees, well.

Okay, maybe he kind of means it.

—

It's Eddie's day off, but he's at the Hideout anyway.

He'd feel more pathetic about that if it weren't for the fact that it's Jeff and Gareth's night off, too, and they're also at the Hideout.

It's a slower night, so they're just sitting at the bar drinking beer and heckling Grant while the regulars ignore them and their antics. Or, well, he and Gareth are heckling Grant - Jeff is shifting back and forth between taking their side and taking Grant's, claiming neutrality with a gleam in his eyes that says he knows exactly what he's doing.

Even though he's not working, Eddie still looks up on instinct when the door opens - and then grins when he recognizes Steve.

He flings himself around the other side of the bar, ignoring Jeff and Gareth's surprised exclamations, and very heroically manages to not immediately wave Steve over. He plans to wait until Steve's come to sit at the far corner of the bar, then slide on up to him, but - Steve sees him and immediately makes a beeline to grab a seat in front of him.

Oh.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve greets with a smile.

“Hey, Steve, what can I get you?” Eddie asks.

“I don't know.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him, expression almost playful. “You're the expert, right? What can you get me?”

“What is happening right now?” Gareth asks, immediately squashing the little thrill Eddie'd gotten at Steve's words.

“What's happening right now is that I'm trying to serve an actual paying customer, so why don't you two go find a table to sit at and shoo,” Eddie grumbles at him.

“Come on, Gar, let's quit bothering Eddie,” Jeff says, pushing away from the bar and tugging Gareth with him.

Fuck, Jeff is Eddie's favorite forever, he's going to owe him -

“Eddie's apparently decided to throw in a little free labor for us tonight,” Jeff calls back as they saunter off towards an open table.

Never mind, Eddie hates him.

Steve's brow furrows, and he looks up at Eddie expectantly.

“It's my night off,” Eddie admits.

“Eddie!” Steve chides.

“It's just one drink,” Eddie protests.

Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Uh-huh. What if I wanted more than one drink, were you going to hang out here all night?”

“Maybe,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve laughs at him, but it's soft and - well. It might just be Eddie's wishful thinking, but it sounds almost fond. “Go hang out with your friends. You can get me next time.”

Eddie sulks for a moment - like they're friends, like Steve is scolding him over a stupid decision and Eddie's whining at him about how it totally makes sense, really.

Wait.

“Come sit at the table with us,” Eddie says. “I can give you recommendations on what to order.”

Steve hesitates. “Your friends won't mind?”

“Nah. They love heckling me, so I'm sure they'll get a kick out of it. Come on, it'll be fun.”

Despite his words, Eddie's actually a little nervous that Steve won't get along with Jeff and Gareth, or that the tense, rigid way Steve had held himself when he first came to the bar will come back, but by the time Steve's two drinks in, he's folded almost seamlessly in with the three of them.

Jeff and Steve like the same baseball team, apparently, and he gets Gareth talking about ice skating in a way that makes him light up - a way that might make Eddie a little jealous, if Steve didn't keep catching Eddie's eyes and smiling at him.

Steve even gets a couple of their Lord of the Rings jokes, though he admits he hasn't read the books himself, just picked up on some things from the kids he used to babysit. The way he talks about this Dustin kid makes him sound more like a little brother than anything else, and it's really sweet.

Shit, he's probably not terrible with the kids. Maybe Eddie better hold out hope for the wet towels or the terrible shower singing.

It's probably pretty damn late when Eddie hears the door open, and glances over. The man walking in is unfamiliar, but he's looking around the bar with a sense of purpose that makes Eddie grimace.

“We're all up to date on our liquor license and everything, right?” Eddie asks in a low voice.

Jeff frowns at him. “Of course. Why?”

“Check your ten o'clock,” Eddie says, purposefully adding in a little flair like he's a spy operative keeping an eye out for the enemy. “He's just screaming off duty cop.”

Both Jeff and Gareth crane their heads to look, leaving Eddie to sigh internally, but Steve plays along, tipping his head in towards Eddie like they're sharing a moment.

Steve's face is so close to his that he can feel the soft puff of air on his cheek when he breathes out, can see the whites of his eyes as his gaze flicks towards the door. Then he grins, and Eddie can see the way it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Fuck, Eddie should be ridiculous around Steve more often.

“Retired cop, maybe,” Steve replies. “He's here for me. I, uh. I must have missed my curfew.”

Eddie looks back over at the guy, who must have spotted Steve, because he's making his way towards them.

“You still have a curfew?” Eddie teases.

“Shut up,” Steve says, but his smile hasn't faded.

“No, it's cute,” Eddie says. And honestly - it is. “Your dad is your ride when you've had a few too many to drink?”

Steve's eyes darken briefly. “My dad's an asshole,” he mutters, something cracked and bitter in his tone that Eddie's pretty sure wouldn't be there if Steve was entirely sober. “He wouldn't be caught anywhere near somewhere like this, or me in general.”

Well, shit, leave it to Eddie to open his mouth and accidentally step in it.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bumping his shoulder against Steve's. “Mine, too. Fuck ‘em, right? We're better off without them.”

“Better off without who?” Retired Cop asks as he stops in front of their table.

“Our terrible, horrible, no good, very bad fathers,” Eddie replies immediately, shooting Retired Cop what he hopes is a very charming grin.

It must be, considering Steve is back to smiling, and now he's looking at Eddie all soft and pleased.

Retired Cop grunts in what Eddie is going to optimistically assume is agreement.

“Hey, Hopper,” Steve greets. “This is Eddie, Jeff, and Gareth. Hopper's the head of security for Hawkins Heroes.”

“Among other things,” Hopper comments drily.

Eddie's going to guess those other things include picking up wayward activity directors when they stay out too late.

Steve looks a little abashed. “Sorry, lost track of time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper grumbles. “Get your shit and let's get going.”

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys,” Steve tells them.

“You kidding?” Jeff asks. “It was great, man.”

“Come back any time,” Gareth agrees.

“I'll have a new drink ready for you,” Eddie promises.

Somewhat foolishly, considering he knows that Jeff and Gareth are going to tease him about that, but the smile he gets flashed at him is well worth it.

“I still gotta settle the tab,” he hears Steve tell Hopper as they head out, but he's too distracted by Jeff and Gareth's smirks to think anything of it.

“Not a word,” Eddie threatens before either of them can say anything.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Gareth replies, batting his eyelashes at him instead of saying anything.

“Just let me know when you have the drink ready,” Jeff agrees mildly. “We can call it Steve's Special.”

Gareth and Jeff fistbump each other while Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves himself up out of his chair.

He ignores their laughter as he heads over April, who's behind the register at the moment.

“What's my damage for the night?” he asks.

“Your friend already paid,” she tells him.

“Okay?” He frowns at her, a little too tipsy to make any kind of connection between his question and her answer. “I mean, I'm glad he didn't duck out on his tab and leave me stuck with it, but I'd still like to pay mine?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, you moron, he paid for all of you.”

Eddie gapes at her. “He what?”

April smirks at him. “Guy that good looking, and he picks up the tab for you and those two? I'd hang onto him.”

Eddie's pretty sure his cheeks are bright red. He covers it up by muttering, “Son of a bitch. I'll get him for this.”

—

Steve's already at the bar when Eddie arrives for his shift that night, which instantly makes him perk up.

His crush on the guy is probably a little bit out of control, but eh, that's future Eddie's problem. Tonight Eddie gets the pleasure of some very nice eye candy all night, on top of the security of knowing he's going to have an awesome interaction with at least one patron.

Steve's clearly been there at least a little while, since there's a half eaten plate of loaded fries and a beer in front of him, and he's chatting enthusiastically with Grant.

Well.

Maybe chatting is the wrong word for it, now that Eddie gets a closer look at them.

Steve's leaning in, one elbow braced on the bartop with his gaze focused intently on Grant, as if he was the only person in the room. He's saying something in what must be a low tone, considering Grant's leaning back in to hear him. And is that -

Yup, that's a faint pink flush to Grant's cheeks.

Eddie gapes.

"Is Steve flirting with Grant?" he hisses the moment he finds Chrissy.

Chrissy rolls her eyes. "They got into an argument about pick up lines. Grant said pick up lines are shitty and cliche and don't work, and Steve insisted it's not about them being lines, it's about delivery and intention."

"So they're… flirting to prove a point?"

Damn it, why didn't Eddie think of that?

Chrissy's smiling at him, that sweet little grin she gives him when she knows exactly what's going on in his head. "Why don't you go over there and tell Steve where you sit on the pick up line debate?"

Eddie hip checks her, but, well.

It's not a bad idea.

He does go over, if only because he wants to say hi before he actually starts working.

He hears Grant laughing as he gets closer, but it sounds a little strained.

"Hey," Steve says quietly. "I meant all of it, you know. I wouldn't have said anything I didn't think was true. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Or, uh, guy, if you swung that way."

"You're kind of making me wish I swung that way," Grant teases, but there's something sincerely appreciative in his voice that tells Eddie that they'd been talking about more than just an argument about pick up lines.

If Steve could stop being so kind to his friends, that would really help out Eddie's stupid heart.

He tells himself very firmly to absolutely not think into the fact that Steve's apparently okay with guys dating other guys.

Instead, he stalks up to the counter as Grant walks away, pointing accusingly at Steve.

“I caught you!” he informs him. “What, did you think you could hide it from me? That I wouldn't notice? You're in so much trouble.”

Eddie's not sure what he's expecting, but it isn't for Steve's expression to completely crumble. He sags in the chair for a moment, then Eddie watches him visibly pull himself together, straightening up and looking solemnly at Eddie.

“Okay,” Steve says, very quietly. “How do you want to do this?”

And that - completely deflates the wind in Eddie's sails.

“You're not like, actually in trouble, dude,” Eddie tells him. “I just can't believe you thought you could pay our tabs and we wouldn't realize it.”

Steve's brow furrows, then smooths out. “Oh!”

It's clearly a startled little realization, which immediately makes Eddie narrow his eyes.

“What did you think I was talking about?” he asks.

“I, uh. I guess I just wasn't sure what I did to upset you?”

Eddie considers that. It's possible - but Steve hadn't looked confused, he'd looked resigned. Like there was a secret that he was keeping, and he hadn't been expecting to be able to continue to keep it, and he was pretty sure Eddie knowing it wasn't going to be anything good. But what could he -

And then he remembers that he walked over in the middle of Steve flirting with another guy, and clearly implying that he was okay with guys dating other guys, and -

And the first thing that Eddie said was that he caught Steve and he was in big trouble.

Shit.

“It, uh,” Eddie starts, then stops, pausing to think about how he wants to say this. “There's a rainbow flag pinned up at the corner of the bar.”

Steve gives him a tiny smile. “I noticed,” he says softly. “It's one of the things that made me come back here.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, immediately derailed. “It was my idea to put it up. I wanted people to know the Hideout is a safe space, even if it doesn't look like it.”

“It worked,” Steve tells him. “You're a good guy, Eddie, that was a great thought.”

Eddie flushes, ducking his head for a moment before he determinedly gets this conversation back on track. “So, uh, I just wanted to make sure you knew that none of the staff here are going to hassle you no matter what way you swing. Especially not me.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment. “Especially not you?” he repeats.

Eddie swallows, then nods. “Yeah.”

Steve's quiet at first. Then, “Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie nods again, letting the moment sit for a little bit. Then he shoots him a teasing little grin, tipping his head at the beer in front of Steve. “What you're really in trouble for is getting a drink from another bartender here.”

Steve smirks at him. “Oh, that's not mine. It's Robin's.”

“Robin?” Eddie asks.

“My best friend, the one who likes lemon drops? She came with me today, said she wanted to meet the guys who got me to stay out so late,” Steve replies.

Oh!

Eddie straightens up, looking around. “Where is she? I want to meet her.”

“She was going to the bathroom, but I think she got distracted on her way back,” Steve says drily. He nods over towards where Chrissy is talking animatedly with a girl he's never seen before. “So you might have to wait a bit on that.”

Chrissy's smiling in a way he hasn't seen her do in a long time, which immediately makes him like this Robin girl.

“Guess you're stuck with me until then,” Steve adds.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, voice monotone. “However will I get over my disappointment.”

Steve laughs. “You can start by getting me a drink.”

Yeah, okay, Eddie guesses he can do that.

He's going to finish the night by making the best impression possible on Steve's best friend, though.

Even if his own best friend seems to have gotten there first.

—

It's D&D night the next time Steve shows up at the bar.

The other regulars are pretty used to it, by now, and seem content to let the D&D crews take over the back half of the bar, but Steve hasn't seen it before. He's not sure when he started thinking of Steve as a regular - can someone be a regular if he doesn't live here, even if he does seem to come in every time he's in town? - but that's beside the point.

D&D nights were Eddie's idea. He'd wanted to do something similar to what he did in high school, give them a safe place to be able to play - only this time, some place fun, where they'd be welcome as adults instead of laughed at for playing a "kid's game." Even the nights when he isn't playing or DMing, he has a lot of fun with coming up with campaign themed drinks.

It's stupid, but he's kind of nervous about what Steve thinks of it. It's not like anything's going to happen with Eddie's crush, but he enjoys it anyway, enjoys Steve's company. It's going to suck if Steve laughs at it.

Steve beelines for the corner of the bar where Eddie's at as soon as he sees him, which makes Eddie smile involuntarily, despite the clench in his stomach when he sees Steve staring intently at the group in the back.

"Is that Dungeons and Dragons?" Steve asks.

"You know D&D?" Eddie asks. His stomach is still clenching, but now it's in a very, very different way.

"Yeah," Steve replies, shooting him a little smile. "Some of my friends play it. We actually used to have it as an activity for the kids, but Mike and Will are at college and Erica had this huge project she needs to finish for school, so it's on hold now."

"Have you ever played?" Eddie asks.

"A couple of times," Steve replies. "I did, uh. The side characters? For the kids a few times. Do you play?"

"Yeah. I used to run a D&D club in high school, actually, and I started D&D night here."

"Dude, that's really cool," Steve says, so genuine that it makes Eddie want to hide behind his hair. "Oh, hey, I know it's kind of a lot to ask, but would you be interested in doing it for camp this week? Some of the kids coming have really missed it. We'd pay you for your time, of course."

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it again. "You want to pay me to DM a D&D game for summer camp?"

"Yes?" Steve says, like he's not sure why Eddie's in a little bit of disbelief here. "Only it's October now, so not summer camp anymore."

Right, because that's the unbelievable part.

"You know what? Sure. Do you want a one shot, or a short campaign?" Eddie asks.

Steve's face scrunches a bit in confusion.

"How many days do you want me there?" Eddie clarifies.

"All of them?" Steve blurts out.

Eddie's eyes widen, and Steve's ears go a little pink.

"I mean, how many can you do?" Steve asks.

Eddie considers. He could use some extra cash, and he's really missed throwing himself into D&D - he actually thinks he has the perfect campaign, one he used leading up to Halloween back in high school. A few tweaks and he thinks it'll be perfect.

"How about four days, five hour sessions each? Is that too long for the kids?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. "Nah, I've seen them spend like ten hours playing before, five should be perfect. Come by the resort around noon tomorrow and I'll have the paperwork all ready for you?"

—

There's more security at the resort than Eddie remembers there being the handful of times that he's been there before.

Makes sense, he guesses, since there's more kids than adults there now. It'd probably look bad if the resort let just anyone onto the grounds and some of the kids got kidnapped or something. And if they've got celebrities coming in to get their good PR by volunteering, too, they've probably got to be at the top of their game.

Eddie must be on the approved list, though, because once he's shown his ID and proven who he is, he's given a “guest staff” badge, a map of the resort, and a list of which amenities he's allowed to use for the next week.

Nice. Steve hadn't mentioned that, but Eddie is definitely going to take advantage of it.

He's a little early to meet Steve, so he wanders around the inside of the resort instead, taking in everything.

Eventually he stumbles onto a lounge with a roaring fire and a massive plush sofa, occupied by a teenage girl and a bunch of textbooks.

“Can I help you?” she asks, for all the world like she's a busy executive behind a fancy desk and he's already wasting her time, instead of a teenager sprawled out on a couch doing her homework.

“I'm looking for Steve,” he says.

Her eyes narrow as she sits up. “Why?” There's an edge in her voice now, something a little bit protective.

That's kind of sweet, actually.

“I'm meeting him here about a temporary gig,” Eddie says. “Hi, I'm Eddie.”

Her expression shifts from wary to downright skeptical. “You're the DM who that hairbrain thinks will do a better job than me?”

Yeah, Eddie's taking back that sweet comment.

“You must be Erica,” he says.

“That's Lady Applejack to you,” she retorts with a sniff. “You better be at the top of your game, or I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death.”

Oh, fuck, Eddie likes this kid.

He raises one eyebrow at her. “I thought you had a big project that you're supposed to be working on?”

She stares right back at him, unimpressed. “You going to rat me out if I come play?”

Eddie hams it up a little, making a big show of thinking it over. Before he can tell her that obviously, he's the last one to give any kind of quibble about playing D&D instead of doing homework, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching echoes through the lounge.

“Hey, Erica?” Steve's voice calls, sounding a little strained. “Can you keep an eye out for Eddie, tell him I'm going to be a little late? I gotta - oh. You're here!”

Steve's rounded the corner, and now Eddie can see the reason for the heavier footsteps. He's giving a piggyback ride to a kid, who looks about eleven or twelve. The kid's face is screwed up in pain, and Eddie spots a bloody, skinned knee peeking through ripped jeans.

“Hey, man,” Steve greets. “Give me a minute? I've got to get this guy to the nurse.”

“I don't want to go see Nurse Henderson,” the kid sulks. “Can't you just patch it up yourself? Max is going to tell me I should have just walked it off!”

“Probably,” Steve admits. “But she'd also want you to get looked at if you're really hurt. And Nurse Henderson is the only one who's qualified to decide that, right? Besides, didn't we already talk about not doing stupid things just for a girl?”

“Especially for a girl like Max, who's way too old for me,” the kid replies, in a tone of voice that says, yes, he's heard all of this before. “Fine, I'll go to the nurse.”

“I'll keep Eddie company,” Erica volunteers.

Steve looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“I'm just making sure his campaign is up to snuff,” she informs him.

Steve relaxes, though he still cuts his gaze over to Eddie and waits for him to nod before he takes off.

Eddie tilts his head at Erica. “How would you feel about a little extra backstory? A little party betrayal, maybe?”

Her eyes light up. “I'm listening.”

By the time Steve comes back, Eddie and Erica and hunched over character sheets, and they've got a frankly amazing tie in for Lady Applejack into his slightly tweaked campaign.

“I take it things went well?” Steve asks.

Erica stuffs her character sheets into her folder. “He'll do.”

Eddie gets the feeling that's high praise, coming from her.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Lady Applejack,” he says solemnly.

She rolls her eyes, but accepts the hug that Steve gives her, and Eddie's pretty sure he hears Steve whisper thank you.

“Come on, let's go see Joyce,” Steve says. “She's the director of Hawkins Hope, she's amazing. Then we can grab lunch after.”

“Are you bribing me with fancy resort food?” Eddie asks.

Steve grins at him. “Maybe.”

Joyce is amazing, but lunch with Steve is even better. Eddie makes a big deal of moaning over how good the food is, but really, making Steve laugh is the best part.

Yeah, Eddie's in way too deep.

—

"Eddie!" Steve greets when he comes into the Hideout a few days after the final session. He sounds a little bit breathless, and Eddie immediately smiles.

It's amazing how much having a favorite regular there improves his night, on top of the fact that he thinks he and Steve are actually friends now.

"Hey, man," he greets. "The kids all get where they're supposed to be okay?"

Steve looks at him like he did something amazing, instead of just asking a question that any decent human being would ask, but Eddie's not going to protest.

"Yeah, just the staff left now. Hey, I wanted to ask - we're doing a masquerade event on Halloween as a fundraiser. I mean, the event itself is going to be kind of shitty, catering to a bunch of semi famous people, but the staff are having an after party. Do you want to come?"

Eddie swallows, trying not to get his hopes up. "Me?"

"Well, yeah, you were basically staff this week, so you should come."

"Oh." Turns out it didn't work, not getting his hopes up, and now he's fighting disappointment.

Steve must take that for reluctance, though, because he adds, "Chrissy and Jeff and Grant and Gareth are all welcome too, so you don't have to worry about not knowing anyone there? Unless you guys already had plans."

"Nah, I think we were just going to hang out and watch shitty horror movies, I'm sure they'd rather go to an after party at the resort," Eddie says.

It sounds like a much better night than anything they had planned, even if it isn't what he thought Steve might be asking.

"Good! Uh, that's good." Steve looks uncertain for a moment, like he's having a debate with himself. Whatever it is, he must come to a decision, because he leans over the counter a little. "What about you?"

…okay, maybe he's not completely out of luck here.

"Me?" Eddie asks again, but this time he keeps his gaze locked on Steve's.

"You," Steve says again. "I was really hoping you'd come, Eds."

"Yeah? What do I get if I go?"

Steve smiles at him, this soft little hopeful thing, and his eyes drop briefly down to Eddie's lips. "I got a few things in mind."

Oh fuck, this is happening.

"Well now you've got me intrigued. I guess I better make an appearance."

Steve's expression lights up. “See you at the resort at ten?”

—

There's even more security when Eddie arrives at the resort on Halloween. He isn't driving - he's pretty sure there's going to be free alcohol tonight, and he's planning on taking full advantage of it - but the cab he and the others took gets stopped three times by security guards, and each time they have to show their IDs.

“Who the hell is going to the stupid masquerade?” Eddie grumbles after they finally get dropped off at a side entrance to the resort.

“Celebrities,” Gareth says with a roll of his eyes.

There's still a small crowd of people exiting the resort through the main entrance a little bit away, and despite the grumbling and eye rolling, none of them can help craning their heads just a little, to see if there's anyone they recognize.

There isn't - looks mostly like people with press badges and cameras.

There's a little bit of a commotion, though, and that makes them pause, just for a moment.

“He owes us!” someone is shouting. “One song for the bronze tier donors, that's it? What does Alistair think he's trying to pull?”

“Oh, wow,” Chrissy says. “I mean, I knew Alistair was the celebrity endorser for the charity, but I didn't think he'd be here tonight.”

Eddie shrugs. “Steve said it was for the semi famous.”

“Alistair and Hawk are a little more than semi famous,” Jeff points out.

There's more shouting at the front entrance that distracts them, though - looks like whoever it was that was complaining is getting very firmly escorted out to the parking lot by security.

“What are you losers still doing out here?” someone asks, and Eddie turns over to see Erica scowling at him from the side entrance.

He beams at her. “Lady Applejack, destroyer of Vecna, light of my life!”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Get your butts in here,” she orders, disappearing through the side entrance.

Eddie and his friends dutifully follow her, down a few hallways and into a massive ballroom that's all decorated in orange and black lights, fake cobwebs, swooping bats, and even a fog machine. There's about thirty or so people mingling about, but fortunately, she leads them to where Steve and Robin are standing together. They're both dressed in black tuxedos, but Robin has a twinkling gold halo crowned on her head and a pair of feathery wings, and Steve has a pair of devil horns. There's a cup of something bright orange in each of their hands.

Jesus, Steve looks even more gorgeous.

“Hey!” Steve greets, lighting up. “You guys made it!”

There's a round of greetings, finished by Steve pointing out the tables laden with food - some of it is clearly fancy shit that was probably left over from the masquerade, but a decent chunk of it is freshly made, mixed in with a ton of boxes of pizza and pitchers of various drinks.

“Come on,” Steve says, circling his fingers around Eddie's wrist and giving it a tug. “I want to introduce you to my friends.”

Steve leads him around the room, weaving through the small crowd and stopping whenever he finds someone. Eddie meets Jonathon Byers, Argyle, and Nancy Wheeler - Steve's ex, apparently, which throws him for a moment when he sees that they're clearly good friends.

Eddie can't imagine being friends with any of the small handful of exes he has.

Steve shrugs when he says as much. “Nancy and I are much better as friends,” he admits. “Our break up was… all right, it was pretty bad. But it was a long time coming. We just didn't work, you know? We wanted different things.”

“Not a great point in favor of you still being friends,” Eddie points out.

Steve laughs. “Nancy's amazing at what she does. She's an investigative reporter for her real job - she just volunteers here, because it's family. It's a lot easier being her friend.”

Eddie's not completely convinced, but he'll take Steve's word for it.

Nancy seems pretty great, anyway, when both of their circles of friends end up spending most of the party together. She and Robin and Chrissy keep ducking their heads together and giggling, and Jeff and Jonathon are having some kind of emphatic discussion about something Eddie doesn't really understand, and he's pretty sure Gareth and Grant and Argyle have snuck off somewhere to smoke weed.

Eddie's a little disappointed they didn't invite him, except, well, Steve's been pretty much plastered to his side the whole time, so he can't really complain.

“You want to get out of here?�� Steve asks, when Eddie has definitely had too many candy corn jello shots to be effectively considering the ramifications of that question.

He agrees anyway, wholeheartedly, and hopes he doesn't come across as way, way too eager.

Steve is beaming at him, though, and he leads him out of the room.

“Let's go for a walk?” Steve suggests, which isn't quite where Eddie's mind had been going, but he can admit it's probably a better idea than anything he might have come up with.

So they grab their coats, and Steve winds a scarf around Eddie's neck even though Eddie insists it isn't that cold out.

He's pretty sure the scarf is Steve's, though - it smells like his cologne - so he doesn't actually try to stop him.

“This is definitely a date, right?” Eddie asks as they're walking along the path to the lake, their fingers laced together.

You know, just to make absolutely certain.

“Yeah, it's definitely a date,” Steve says with a little laugh.

“It's technically our fourth date,” Eddie points out.

There's a little furrow between Steve's brow as he frowns at him. “What?”

Eddie holds up his free hand so he can tick them off his fingers. “One, you bought me drinks and dinner at the Hideout.”

“I paid for Jeff and Gareth too!” Steve protests.

“Two,” Eddie says, ignoring him. “You bought me lunch at the resort.”

“We're staff, we get free lunch!” Steve says.

“Three, you invited me to go to a Halloween party with you. And four, moonlight walk by the lake,” he finishes triumphantly.

“Those are the same date!” Steve's clearly trying to sound exasperated, but he's grinning, so Eddie's calling it a win. “And the other two are like, half dates. So if you really want to, we can call this our second date.”

“Come on, sneaking away from the Halloween party to get time alone is at least worth a half date on its own.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, two and a half dates.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, but he doesn't get time to crow too much about it.

Steve kisses him for the first time out by the lake, leaves rustling in the wind and the reflection of the moon hanging heavy and orange.

It's perfect.

At the end of the night, after they've been gone from the party for so long that people have had to notice - though no one says anything - Steve gives him a piece of paper with his number on it.

“You don't have to call me,” Steve tells him, like there's any chance that Eddie won't use it immediately. “But I'd like it if you did.”

Eddie steals a pen and paper from the front desk, sprawls down his own phone number and shoves it at Steve.

“Here,” he says. “So you'll know it's me when I call you as soon as I get home.”

—

Eddie expected it to be a little awkward, trying to keep up a relationship - or whatever this is, is it a relationship when they've only had two and a half dates? - via phone, but it really isn't. Steve remembers his work schedule, and he calls him every day after he gets home from work, and it -

It's almost as good as having him there. They talk about their days, about everything and nothing, and it's so fucking good it helps distract him from knowing he's not going to be able to see Steve in person again until December.

Or at least, he wasn't supposed to see him until December.

But about a week after Steve's gone, when he's hanging out with Chrissy and trying to pretend like he doesn't miss him an unreasonable amount, Eddie asks, “Who is Alistair, anyway?”

Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him. “You don't know?”

Eddie shrugs. “It hasn't come up.”

“Scoops Troop?” Chrissy asks, like that's supposed to mean something. “The pop duo?”

And yeah, all right, the name sounds vaguely familiar, but it's not anything that Eddie looks for, and he shrugs again. “I mean, sure, I've probably heard some of their songs on the radio.”

She rolls her eyes. “You're ridiculous. I have a poster of Alistair in my bedroom, it's your favorite one. You've listened to him with me, he does that cover you really like, the one you said at least he wasn't a coward who changes the gender when he covers female songs.”

Shit, okay, yeah, now Eddie knows who she's talking about. He remembers that poster - a blown up shot of the pop star wearing a pair of tight jeans with the button popped, bare chested, head tilted back so all you could see was the line of his neck and the underside of his chin. He remembers sitting with Chrissy a year or so after they graduated high school, listening to one of his albums, hearing the guy sing about how it feels to watch the man he loves kiss some other girl, remembers how the song had stuck with him.

Huh. Handsome, good singer, funds charities - maybe he should have given more of his songs a chance.

“Oh,” Eddie says.

Chrissy laughs softly. “Yeah, oh. Should I tell Steve to watch out for your crush?”

Eddie bumps his shoulders into hers. “Steve is prettier,” he says confidently. “And sweeter, and funnier, and - everything-er.”

He does know to cut himself off before he starts going into too much detail, though, and instead he flops down on his bed.

“What's his deal, then? You have a poster, you probably know some things.”

Chrissy shrugs, flopping down next to him. “He's pretty private. Teenage pop star, made it big pretty quickly, had a huge, blow up falling out with his manager and record label. Went quiet for a while, made a massive comeback with a new manager and label as part of a duo with Hawk.”

Eddie hums softly. Nothing all that interesting - or nothing out of the ordinary from things he's read about in the music industry before.

“What was the blow up about?” he asks, curious. He could go look it up himself, of course, but it's easier to ask Chrissy.

“Something about his manager and label mismanaging his earnings. There was some kind of scandal back then about exploitation of child stars, it's why you don't see Harrington Studios or Brenner Talent Acquisition around much anymore.”

Jesus.

“Wait,” Eddie says. “Harrington Studios? Like Steve Harrington?”

Chrissy frowns. “Maybe?”

“Shit, Steve did say his dad was an asshole who wouldn't want to be anywhere near him,” Eddie says. “I wonder if that's why Steve cut ties.”

“You could call him and ask him,” Chrissy says mildly. “Didn't he say he and Robin were just going to be hanging around at home the next few days?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “You just want to talk to Robin,” he protests, even though he's already picking up the phone.

Steve and Robin are home, and Steve sounds so happy to hear from him that Eddie almost immediately forgets everything else.

“I miss you,” Eddie says before he thinks better of it, before he wonders if maybe that's too much.

“I miss you too,” Steve says immediately, sounding a little bit relieved - like maybe he was worried it was too much, too. “I wish I could see you.”

“Hawkins isn't too far from here,” Eddie points out. “And I've got a guest room.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, his voice a little soft, a little hopeful.

“Yeah. Come stay the night, we'll get pizza and watch bad movies.”

Steve hums a little like he's considering it, but it's playful, and Eddie's pretty sure he's going to say yes. “Are we counting this as a whole date, or is this another half date?”

Eddie breaks out into a grin. “Half date,” he decides. “That'll bring us up to three, and tomorrow we can make four.”

“Deal,” Steve agrees. “See you soon.”

Steve kisses him the second he and Robin arrive, crowding him in against the wall in the narrow hallway like it's been so much longer than a week since they last saw each other.

“Hi,” Steve murmurs when they break for air.

“Hi,” Eddie replies breathlessly, smiling so wide it hurts.

They end up squished together on the couch, Steve and Robin in the middle with Eddie and Chrissy on either side of them. After the pizza's gone, and they're mid way through their second movie - Eddie glances over, sees Robin's feet tucked under Steve's thigh, Steve's hand curled loosely around her ankle, Chrissy's head pillowed on Robin's shoulder.

Which sounds like a fantastic idea, actually, and he squishes down so he can lean into Steve's chest, Steve's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Later, after the girls have disappeared into the guest room and Steve and Eddie are getting ready for bed, Steve seems… nervous, almost, as they climb under the covers.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks.

“There's things you don't know about me,” Steve admits quietly. “Important things.”

Things like his dad owning a record label and working with a manager who exploits children, Eddie'd guess. Not a great thing for a guy who now works so closely with kids.

But Eddie trusts him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It's okay. I mean, you don't know everything about me either, right? We're only at date three. It's okay if you want to take this slow, to get to know each other before we jump into the messy stuff.”

Steve looks like he's thinking about that. “That's okay?”

“Yeah, of course. If you want to feel each other out, keep this low commitment, even see other people, that's fine.”

It's not really fine, but now Eddie's said it, so he can't take it back.

Steve frowns at him. “I don't want to keep this low commitment,” he protests. “Eds - I'm in this. I don't want to date anyone else.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little shaky.

Steve's expression shutters a little. “Did you want to?”

“No!” Eddie replies, a little too quickly. “No, of course not. I just didn't want to pressure you. I, uh, I'm in this too.”

“Good.” Steve tips his head in to kiss him softly. “But - maybe slow is good? I haven't really had a serious relationship since Nancy and I broke up.”

“It's been a while for me, too,” Eddie admits. “…is it bad that it kind of makes me feel better? That we're both figuring this out together?”

Steve snorts. “Nah. Not bad. I kind of like the idea of figuring things out with you.”

—

“Hey, Munson!” April shouts from the office, when he's elbow deep in sudsy water doing the dishes. “You got a phone call!”

“Who is it?” Eddie yells back. He doesn't want to lose his groove if it's just a crank call, or one of his friends with something far from urgent.

“Some guy named Steve! Want me to tell him to get lost?” she asks.

“No!” Eddie yelps immediately. Then, in what he hopes is a calmer voice, “No, I'll come get it.”

He dries off his hands, passes April on the way to the office and has to put up with her smirking at him, but he pointedly ignores her.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie greets, already feeling himself smiling.

“Hey,” Steve says back. “Am I interrupting a busy shift?”

He sounds - just a little bit off. Almost like his normal self, but more like he's forcing himself to sound normal.

Eddie frowns. “Even if you were, it'd be a welcome interruption. What's up?”

“It's nothing really important,” Steve says. “I just - wanted to hear your voice, I guess.”

Oh.

Eddie lets himself feel soft and gushy over that for a moment before he leans out to shout, “April, I'm taking my lunch!” and closes the door to the office.

“Eds, you don't have to do that,” Steve protests. “I just wan-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie cuts him off gently. “I can tell something's wrong. Taking my lunch is nothing - I'd drive to Hawkins right now to see you if you wanted.”

Eddie can Steve breathe out, a slow, ragged exhale.

“What happened?” Eddie asks.

“My dad happened,” Steve mutters.

Shit.

“Well, if anyone gets how hard it can throw you off when your shitty dad pops back up in your life, it's me,” Eddie says. “You want to talk about it?”

Steve's quiet for a moment. “I don't know why I let him still get to me,” he says after a while. “He didn't even talk directly to me. He hasn't tried to reach out since I cut him off, but he still knows exactly what to say to get under my skin, and he knows where to do it so it'll get right back to me. God, it's so stupid. I don't even care about his opinion, but…”

“But he's your dad,” Eddie finishes for him when he trails off. “Even if he's terrible, even if you don't want to be anything like him, even if you don't really want his good opinion, it's always going to matter a little.”

There's another exhale, though this one's tinged with something like relief. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks.

Steve snorts. “Just the usual shit. I'm not living up to my potential, I'm wasting my time on publicity stunts, I've lost sight of what's really important.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. “Your dad really is an asshole.”

“Grade A,” Steve confirms.

“You sure you don't want me to drive down there?” Eddie offers.

“Nah,” Steve says, though Eddie can hear a smile in his voice. “I'm with Robin. She just went to pick up dinner, she should be back soon. Just, uh. Like I said, I wanted to hear your voice. It always makes me feel better.”

“You can't say stuff like that to me when you're not in kissing range,” Eddie teases. Mostly to cover up the way it makes his heart beat a little too fast.

“Sorry,” Steve replies, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says. “I'll still stay on the phone with you until Robin gets back. What do you want me to talk about?”

Steve hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is it too much to ask about what happened the last time your dad popped up?”

Part of Eddie wants to say that nothing Steve could ask him for would be too much, but he does the responsible thing and actually thinks about it before he answers.

“I was seventeen,” he says, once he's decided that yeah, he's okay with Steve knowing this. “I'd been living with my Uncle Wayne for almost five years. He blows back into town, claims he has something of my mom's that she'd always wanted me to get, before she got sick.”

“What was it?” Steve asks.

Eddie snorts. “Nothing. I already had everything of hers that she left behind. He didn't realize I'd already emptied out the old house after he left the last time. But he said he missed me, said he needed me. That he really wanted it to be the two of us this time, the way we always talked about when I was younger and he was teaching me things.”

Steve makes a little encouraging noise.

“Shitty things,” Eddie clarifies. “Other dads taught their kids how to fish or play ball, but mine? He taught me how to hotwire cars. Even at seventeen, he had me convinced. I wanted to believe him so bad, I went along with his idea. Ended up with him skipping town and me in a jail cell taking the fall. My uncle had to come bail me out.”

“I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie shrugs, even though Steve can't see him. “It's not your fault.”

“That's not why I'm sorry,” Steve retorts, in a tone that Eddie knows means he's rolling his eyes. “I'm sorry that he couldn't see how amazing you are. You deserve better.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. “So do you,” he replies. “Fuck our dads, all right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees empathetically. “Fuck ‘em. Who needs them when we have people who actually give a shit about us?”

Eddie wishes they were together, so he could take Steve's hand or tug him in for a hug or something, to make it clear that Eddie is one of those people who gives a shit about Steve.

“Yeah,” he settles for saying. “You can call me anytime, you know that, right?”

“I do now,” Steve says softly. “Thanks, Eds.”

Fuck.

“Any time,” Eddie managed to get out.

“You too, okay? Any time. Even if I don't answer right away, I'll always call you back.”

—

Eddie's pulling his boxes of Christmas decorations out of the storage space off of his little balcony when he notices one of the boxes is damaged.

He's not sure what happened. Water leaking, maybe, or maybe just the box giving out, but it's sagging in on itself, and when Eddie opens it he - he sees the remains of some of his oldest Christmas decorations. The ones that belonged to his mom.

Eddie stares at them for a long time, fighting back tears, and then goes inside to call his boyfriend.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says when he gets his answering machine. He doesn't even bother trying to sound like he isn't bummed. “It's not urgent, just - some of the Christmass stuff I had from my mom got wrecked. Guess I just wanted to hear your voice. Give me a call when you get this, yeah?”

There's an awkward pause that he almost fills with love you, before he hangs up real quick so he doesn't end up going there on a fucking voicemail of all things.

He doesn't really know how long it's going to be before Steve's able to call him back, and it's stupid to just wait around waiting, but… he can't actually bring himself to do the only thing he had planned today and get the Christmas decorations up.

Eddie's still dithering around hours later when the doorbell rings, and he considers ignoring it and pretending he isn't home. He's not in the mood to be any kind of good company, after all.

But then he hears Steve's voice calling his name through the door, and he's on his feet and opening it up before he knows it.

“You're here,” Eddie says, a little gobsmacked.

Steve shifts his weight, looking a little hesitant. “Is that okay? I mean, I know you said you wouldn't mind driving down to Hawkins for me if -”

Steve cuts off, because Eddie's dragged him inside the apartment and pressed him against the back of the door, doing his level best to kiss him senseless.

“It's not too much?” Steve manages to ask in between kisses.

“It's so far from too much,” Eddie returns.

Eddie's not really sure he knows what to do with someone who drove all the way here just for him, just because he was sad, but Jesus, he's not going to complain about it now.

They're both a little disheveled by the time they manage to get away from the door, and Steve gives him a tentative little smile.

“I brought you this,” Steve says, holding something out to him.

Eddie takes it, and it's - a copy of Loretta Lynn's Country Christmas. A signed copy. A signed copy specifically addressed to Eddie, wishing him a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season.

He looks back up, gaping at Steve a little. “Steve?”

“It was supposed to be your Christmas present,” Steve says. “But I thought - maybe you could use it now.”

Jesus Christ, Eddie's pretty sure he's really close to crying. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a ragged breath.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He sets the album down, then practically launches himself at Steve, folding him into his arms and hugging him tight. Steve lets himself be held, sinking into the embrace and hugging him back just as strong.

Eventually, when Eddie's reasonably certain he's not in danger of crying - or blurting out a love confession - Eddie pulls back.

“How long are you here for?” he asks.

Steve shrugs. “I don't have any where to be now. I finished work up early, so I've got a few days before we have to get started on winter camp and the Hawkins Hope Christmas gala.”

“Stay here?” Eddie asks, even though he's a little afraid he's pushing it. The guy drove here for him after one upset voicemail, he's pretty sure he's not going to be turned off by the suggestion of staying over a few days.

“Shit, yeah, I'd love to. You want me to help decorate?” Steve offers.

Eddie swallows past the lump in his throat and nods. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

He puts on Loretta Lynn, and before he knows it he's laughing along with Steve as they bicker about where to put some of the decorations and immediately agree on others.

It's a much better day than Eddie could have ever imagined.

—

“How'd you guys even find this place?”

It's mid December, and the Hawkins Hope crew officially have the resort for the rest of the year.

Which means Eddie's been hanging out there pretty much all of his days off, to the point where the security staff don't even bother to check his ID anymore. They just let him waltz right into the resort to meet Steve at one of the lounges.

Or in the room Steve's staying in, which is where they're at now.

“We rented it out for a couple of weeks back in the spring. Or I guess, technically Scoops Troop did, but when Joyce saw it we figured it would be the perfect place.”

“That was you guys?” Eddie asks. “I figured it was some doucebag pop singer.”

“Well, I guess you'd be kind of right, depending on how you feel about Scoops Troop.” Steve says it too casually, like he's trying to pretend that he doesn't care about Eddie's response - but he clearly cares about Eddie's response.

Eddie hums softly. “How do you feel about Scoops Troop?”

“Hawk is fantastic,” Steve replies immediately. “She's so, so talented, she could do just about anything, you know? She's funny, and so damn smart, she's just amazing.”

Briefly, Eddie wonders if he should be jealous, but nah. Steve'd sounded similar to the way he does when he talks about Robin, and Eddie knows there's nothing going on there.

“What about Alistair?” Eddie asks.

Steve gives a one shouldered shrug. “I don't think my opinion really matters all that much.”

“Of course it matters, Stevie, your opinion always matters,” Eddie says.

Steve smiles at him, soft and fond. “Thank you.”

Eddie waits, but apparently Steve is going to play hard to get on the subject of Alistair. “Do you like him?”

Steve shrugs again. “Yeah, sure.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, squirming a little so he's draped across Steve's lap, staring up at him expectantly.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, carding his fingers through Eddie's hair.

“It was touch and go there for a little bit,” Steve admits. “There was some pretty dicklike behavior going on for a while.”

Eddie gives a dramatic gasp. “A teenage idol? Being a dick? You don't say.”

There's another little laugh, which Eddie's going to count as a win.

“And now?” Eddie asks. “The charity thing, is that all a cover?”

“Nah,” Steve says. “That's genuine. You go through some shit, get a couple of good thumps on the head, it can change your perspective on a lot of things. Makes you realize what's important, and what's just bullshit, you know?”

It sounds like Steve's speaking from experience, and Eddie makes a little encouraging noise.

“My dad did some pretty shitty things to some of my friends,” he says quietly. “And to me. There was a time when I was probably too much like him. I mean, I wasn't ever that bad, but - I put popularity and shit above the things that really mattered.”

“It's hard to imagine you like that,” Eddie says.

Steve frowns a little. “Really?”

“Well, okay, you're kind of a preppy jock, and back in high school I would have thought you were a huge asshole. But I mean, I was kind of a dick back then, too. I probably would have judged you without even knowing you. And now, knowing you? Shit, you're amazing, Steve.”

Steve swallows, leaning down to kiss him.

“I kind of like that you don't know a lot about Alistair,” Steve admits quietly.

“Really?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Most of the people that I work with, aside from the core staff? They're in this because it's a good look for them, or because of their connections with Scoops Troop. You're one of the few who helped out just because of the kids.”

“You guys did pay me,” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you said yes before you even knew how much. It wasn't because of some celebrity, it was just because you're a good guy.”

Something squirms around in Eddie's gut, in a way that he can't decide is good or not. Don't get him wrong, Steve telling him he's a good guy's got his heart beating a little quicker, but he also feels like Steve's got the wrong impression of him.

“I mean, I also did it because you asked me to,” he says, before Steve goes thinking it was entirely selfless. “And you're the prettiest guy I've ever seen.”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “You agreed to help out just to get paid and to get in my pants?”

“Well, not just that. It worked though, didn't it?”

There's another laugh, and Steve jostles him with his knee a little. “Seriously, though. There's not a lot of people in my life that aren't here because of Alistair.”

It's Eddie's turn to swallow. “Well, now you've got me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, still far too serious. His eyes are so intense as he looks down at Eddie, like he's seeing straight through him - like he's on the verge of saying something big, something maybe too big.

“So what are you going to do with me, then?” Eddie asks, light and teasing, wiggling his eyebrows.

It works to break the moment, though Steve's still looking at him almost too closely.

“Keep you,” Steve says. “If you'll let me.”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “Yeah, I'll let you.”

—

The sound of a piano playing draws him down one of the resort hallways, smiling softly as he recognizes it as a Billy Joel song.

“La, la-la, di-di-da,” echoes along with the notes of the piano. “La-la di-di-da da-dum.”

He follows the sound, until he reaches another one of the resort's many little lounging areas. This one has the customary fireplace, wide open windows with gorgeous scenery, and cozy seating. It also has a baby grand piano, and Eddie's a little shocked to see Steve sitting at it, eyes closed as he plays.

“Sing us a song, you're the piano man,” Steve croons. His voice is a little raspy, a little rough, low and soft and so fucking gorgeous that it makes Eddie catch his breath. “Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody.”

“And you've got us feeling all right,” Eddie chimes in.

Steve's eyes fly open, and he looks a little panicked for a moment before his gaze catches on Eddie. The tension in his body relaxes a little, though there's something about him that seems a bit wary.

It makes Eddie feel like maybe he shouldn't make a big deal about this, shouldn't exclaim that he didn't know Steve could play or tell him that he should sing more often.

“Practicing for a music activity with the kids?” Eddie asks.

Steve's expression lights up with a smile, and Eddie immediately feels like he's said the right thing.

Which isn't all that common of an occurrence, honestly. Makes it feel pretty damn good that he just about always gets it right with Steve.

“Doing a piano lesson later,” Steve says.

“And you're going to teach them Billy Joel?” he asks.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “Christmas carols, actually. I was just trying to warm up a little.”

“Don't mind me,” Eddie says, plopping down at the bench next to him and leaning against him. “Warm up away. Hey, you play one I know, and I'll even sing.”

Steve's expression goes contemplative for a moment. “How about we sing together?”

“You don't have to,” Eddie says a little guiltily, kind of worried that he'd made him feel pressured.

Steve shakes his head. “I want to. What's your favorite Christmas song?”

“Carol of the Bells,” Eddie says immediately.

Steve barks out a little laugh.

“What?” Eddie demands, bumping his shoulder. “It's a good one!”

“I know,” Steve says. “It's my favorite, too. It's just not a great dueting song.”

“Nah, come on, give me some notes. We got this,” Eddie insists.

Steve rolls his eyes, but his fingers dance over the keys as he starts playing.

“Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.” Eddie's not exactly singing so much as he's whispering the words into Steve's ear, lips brushing up right against his skin.

It makes Steve's breath catch. He tips his head to face Eddie, playing without looking.

“Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold,” Steve whisper sings back. Even like this, he sounds good - Eddie can tell he must have gotten some training, but with who Steve's dad is, he's not surprised.

Eddie kind of figures that's why any musical ability Steve has would be a sore subject, so he doesn't ask about it. “Ding dong ding dong, that is their song, with joyful ring, all caroling.”

“One seems to hear, words of good cheer,” Steve sings, lips so close to Eddie's that they're practically breathing the same air. “From everywhere, filling the air.”

Steve joins him in singing, “Oh how they pound, raising the sound,” their voices melding together in a way that Eddie's not sure is technically good, but fuck it feels downright magical.

They make it through a few more verses like that, but Steve kisses him before they finish out the song, and they're too distracted to get back to it.

Really, it's not like Eddie's going to complain.

Steve's amazing with the kids, he's clearly not a terrible shower singer, and Eddie's not holding out much hope for the wet towels on the floor at this point.

Eddie just doesn't know how he got so lucky.

—

When Eddie opens the door, Chrissy immediately smacks him with a magazine, but doesn't say anything until she and Jeff have pushed their way into his apartment and shut the door behind them.

Eddie blinks at them, bewildered.

“When were you going to tell us?” she asks in a low, excited whisper.

“Tell you what?” he asks.

“He probably swore you to secrecy, right?” Jeff asks.

“Can we talk about it now that we know?” Chrissy says. “Oh, wait, you probably had to sign an NDA or something, right?”

Jeff makes a face. “Are we going to have to sign an NDA?”

“An NDA about what?” Eddie demands.

Chrissy thrusts the magazine at him, shaking it until he takes it.

Oh.

That's Steve and Robin on the cover, wearing matching Christmas sweaters, with glitter on their eyelids and cheeks and snowflakes in their hair.

He can feel his expression go a little dopey and fond, but hey, how is he supposed to help it?

Eddie assumes it's some kind of article about the Christmas gala Hawkins Hope is throwing, but the caption of the picture catches his eye as he's looking up.

Christmastime With Scoops Troop! Alistair and Hawk spill about their holiday traditions.

It's not until Eddie hears Chrissy saying, “Oh” and Jeff going, “Oh shit, you didn't know,” that Eddie realizes he's gaping.

Eddie slams his jaw shut. “No,” he says tightly, feeling a sharp stab of hurt covered up immediately by a blinding rush of anger. “No, I didn't know that my boyfriend is famous. Apparently that's something that he didn't feel was important to tell me.”

He throws the magazine down onto the couch, stalking around the living room. “Apparently Alistair likes to play games with poor, hick bartenders, make them think they've found something amazing, while Mr. Famous Douchebag is probably off laughing with his other celebrity friends about what an idiot I am.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy says, sounding a little shocked. “I don't know if that's fair.”

“Fair?” Eddie demands. “Fair would have been leaving me the hell out of however he gets his rocks off. It wasn't coming into the Hideout again and again, hanging out with us and getting to know us, all the time keeping something like this!”

“Hey,” Jeff cuts in. “Come on, man, Steve didn't owe us anything then. He was just a guy coming into a bar to get some drinks, getting along with the staff there.”

Eddie snarls, because he wants to be as furious as possible, and he isn't thrilled that Jeff's making a logical point. “Fine,” he concedes. “But he owed me something. He should have told me what I was getting into before I got too deep. I don't - what, was his plan to just keep quiet about this forever and hope I wouldn't find out? How stupid does he think I am?”

Chrissy and Jeff are silent at that, but that just deflates Eddie more than if they had tried to argue with him.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks.

“Do you want to break up with him?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie startles. “No!” Then he pauses, considering. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Jeff prompts.

“What if all of this was a game? What if he never liked me at all, and he was just a celebrity asshole having some fun?”

“What if it wasn't?” Chrissy counters gently. “What if he's just a guy who found someone he really liked and was too scared to tell him about this?”

Eddie drops down into the couch, burying his head in his hands. “I have to talk to him, don't I?”

—

Eddie goes to talk to him.

He asks the resort staff to let Steve know that he's here, waits around in the front entrance until one of the staff tells him they got the go ahead to let Eddie wait in Steve's room.

Eddie's sitting on the bed when Steve there.

“Eddie? Are you okay, they told me you-” Steve cuts off, and Eddie's going to assume that he saw the magazine in Eddie's hands.

He can't bring himself to look up to see him, to check for sure.

“Was any of it real?” he asks. His voice comes out rough, though he manages not to sound like he's on the verge of tears.

“God, Eds, of course it's real, how can-”

“Don't,” Eddie cuts him off, harsh and sharp.

Steve makes a little wounded sound before he falls silent, and this time Eddie can't help but look up at him.

Steve looks - he looks like a fucking wreck. His eyes are wet and sad, and he looks like everything that he'd been trying to balance on his shoulders has come crashing down. Eddie wishes he could say with confidence that the guy he knows, the guy he's fallen in love with, is the same guy he's seeing now, is who Steve really is.

Still, Eddie isn't here to purposefully hurt him. Chrissy and Jeff had talked sense into him - he just wants answers.

“I don't think it's fair for you to act like I'm out of line for doubting that,” Eddie says.

Steve crumples like a wet paper bag.

“You're right,” he says, which honestly - Eddie wasn't expecting. “It's not fair, I'm sorry. Of course you'd think that if I was hiding this, what else wasn't I telling the truth about?”

Eddie rolls up the magazine to hide how his hands want to shake, crinkling it with the force of his grip. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not at first,” Steve admits, lips twisted in a humorless little smile. “This summer, I just - it was nice, spending time with people who had no idea who I was. I thought that would be it, but then the more time I spent with you, the more I fell for you, and by the time I realized I didn't want to let you go, I was afraid. Afraid of your reaction, afraid of what it would mean for us. There's so many people that think they know me as Alistair, and so few that know the real me. I knew, just - even if you didn't hate me, even if you still wanted to be with me, things were going to change. I wouldn't just be Steve anymore.”

“But… you are Alistair. I'm not getting the real you unless I can have both.”

Steve swallows. “Do you want both?”

Eddie blinks at him, a little thrown. “What kind of question is that?”

“Most people want to date Alistair, the pop singer. I haven't had anyone since Nancy who knew me as Steve first, and I - I don't know. I kind of thought it would work the other way, too,” Steve admits. “That you wouldn't want any part of Alistair.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Dude, you keep talking about Steve and Alistair like they're different people. They're both still you, right? I mean, sure, you've got to put on a different front when you're out there with the press and the celebrities, but we all do that a little. You think I act the same way with most customers that I do with you?”

“I - no. Okay, well, I hope not,” Steve adds, just a little bit teasing.

“Definitely not,” Eddie says, giving him the tiniest smile. “So if you're really in this, I want you to be in it. I don't want you to have to hide something so huge from me. I think I deserve the chance to know all of you.”

“Okay,” Steve says softly. “You're right. You're - yeah. If you still want this, if I didn't fuck everything up, then I promise no more secrets.”

Eddie lets out a slow, ragged exhale. Then, “It was real, right?”

“Every bit of it,” Steve says. He inches closer, then when Eddie doesn't stop him, he comes to sit next to him.

“Everything I've told you is true,” Steve says solemnly. “It's okay if you can't believe that yet. I promise I'll work really hard to show you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Maybe I'm stupid, but I do believe you. There's a lot of things that make sense now.”

Thinking back on it - he doesn't think Steve ever actually directly lied to him, not once. Just by omission.

“Fuck, your dad is even worse than I thought,” Eddie swears. “I assumed you guys had a falling out because he fucked over your friends, but he fucked over you.”

“And my friends,” Steve says. “Jane, Hopper's adopted daughter - she got it the worst. I mean, it was mostly our manager, Brenner, who was the real piece of work, but it's not like my dad gave a shit.”

“Fuck him even more,” Eddie mutters. “Am I allowed to ask what happened? Will I have to sign an NDA or something?”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “No NDAs, and yeah, you can ask. Hopper and Joyce were the ones that uncovered a lot of it, at first, and then Nancy and Jonathan did this massive push and got all the details to leak to the press. They're in investigative journalism half because of how good of a job they did. Robs and I both almost quit music after, but Joyce and Hop knew this guy who was a really good manager, and Murray knew Dimitri who had a small record label, and it just… fell together.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Hopper's your head of security, isn't he?”

Steve grins. “And the security for Hawkins Hope, but yeah, mostly me and Robin. Jonathan also does most of our pictures for album covers and stuff, and Argyle actually handles our PR.”

Eddie hums. “Wait, why didn't I have to sign an NDA? What if I was secretly a reporter just pretending to be a bartender?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “But you weren't.”

“What if I was?” Eddie insists. “Or, okay, what if it didn't work out and I was the kind of guy who liked petty revenge? What if some shady paparazzi comes up to me and promises a huge pay day if I spill all of the secrets I learned?”

“You wouldn't,” Steve says confidently.

Which, okay, yes, Eddie very much appreciates Steve's trust in him and it kind of makes him feel a little gooey inside, but Eddie's on a roll and he has a point to make.

“I could!” Eddie protests. “What if I was just a huge asshole? What do Hopper and Argyle think of you dating someone without an NDA?”

“I don't think I've ever had anyone mad at me that I didn't ask them to sign an NDA,” Steve says thoughtfully.

“Well clearly you've been dating douchebags,” Eddie grumbles. “You have to look out for yourself more, okay, what if I was just the worst person in the world and - what?”

Steve's smiling at him way too fondly. “I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you,” he says softly.

Eddie's breath catches. “Is that, uh. Is that a confession, or the reason you didn't have me sign an NDA?”

“Both?” Steve admits. “Look, I know it's kind of early, so I'm not expecting -”

“No, fuck that, I'm definitely in love with you,” Eddie cuts in. “I've wanted to say it since the time you called me at work.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out. “Still?”

“Still.” Eddie makes a little face at himself. “I do trust you, Steve. It might take me a while to get used to everything, but I don't think there's anything I'm going to learn that will change that.”

Steve kisses him, tangling his fingers in Eddie's hair.

“Come to the Christmas gala with me?” he asks.

“Won't the press and stuff be there?” Eddie says.

“Yeah. It's okay if you're not ready for that, but I - I think I'd like to tell people that I have a boyfriend. To introduce you whenever you are ready.”

Eddie considers that. He's honestly not sure he is ready, but - shit, is he ever going to feel ready? “Yeah,” he says. “Jesus, yeah, let's do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, his face lighting up.

“Yeah,” Eddie says again. “Just, uh, let me call my uncle and tell him first. Unless - do you want to come with me, tell him together?”

Steve kisses him again. “I'd really like that. We're still in this, still figuring this all out together, right?”

Eddie follows after him for another kiss. “Together,” he agrees.

Yeah, Eddie can handle that. As long as they're together.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie holiday exchange #pop singer steve harrington #bartender eddie munson

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honestlyijustfindhersocharming · 5 months ago

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A Needlessly Long Analysis of Every Single Cat King Scene in Dead Boy Detectives and Why I Want to Throw Him.

After many, many rewatches of Dead Boy Detectives for the sake of trying to get another season, I've found myself with increasingly strong feelings about a certain feline so... Can we talk about the Cat King? Yes? Great. Forewarning, I'm about to absolutely ream this shapeshifter because he's complex, confusing, horrible, and has so much potential that I need to talk about it.

Please keep in mind that this is my personal take !! I love the Cat King as a character, I just don't like a lot of his actions given the context.

Introduction to the Madness ...

The Cat King is a wonderful antagonist for so many reasons, but I feel like a lot of people have forgotten that he's an extraordinarily flawed person and can be incredibly creepy at times. Lukas does a wonderful job portraying the Cat King's charm, as does George in portraying Edwin's brief moments of falling into his traps, but the Cat King is not a good person. Let's go down the list.

The Cat King's Introduction: Episode 2

Episode 2 starts off with the consequences of Edwin's rash actions in Episode 1, something that I'm fully here for. It gives Edwin's jealousy real weight outside of just causing tension between Crystal and Edwin. However, I think people forget that the Cat King's "punishment" is (almost) completely selfish. Yes, while he claims that it's a consequence for harming the other cats, the punishment doesn't actually reward the cat Edwin used magic on, instead only benefiting the Cat King himself. It does force Edwin to distinguish between the cats, something that I figured out after another watch of the scene, but... I'm not sure if that was his main motivation when he blatantly says later that he wanted more time with Edwin.

The two options Edwin is presented with are sex and counting all the cats in Port Townsend. Option one is mildly horrific, even if Edwin is to consent it could still be considered coercive as the Cat King is in a position of power over Edwin. I personally don't think it'd get to that point - the Cat King sees the Edwin is a repressed Edwardian boy and wants to test that boundary - but... the implication is hard to swallow. When Edwin is given the option of counting cats, he emphasizes that he is a "fair and consensual Cat King", which we'll get back to later, but the offer itself is still - essentially - a move on Edwin as it forces him to stay in the Cat King's vicinity for longer. The task itself is stupid, but it again doesn't benefit any of the cats besides the Cat King. The only reason Edwin's stay is prolonged is because the Cat King is fascinated by Edwin. That's it.

While this interaction does contribute to Edwin's eventual sexual awakening, that does not make the interaction itself good. And this dichotomy between the Cat King starring in Edwin's journey of self discovery but doing so in the literal worst way continues in Episode 4...

The Cat King and Exploiting Emotional Attachment: Episode 4

I'd like to point out that this interaction starts out with the Cat King scratching Edwin, something that he explains by referencing "rough play". Now, this is obviously a joke, but it still brings up issues with the continued lack of Edwin's consent in something that the Cat King frames as sexual. What really kills me about this scene though, is how the Cat King exploits Edwin's other crushes - or potential crushes - to get a reaction out of him. The funniest thing about this to me, is that the way that the Cat King shapeshifts into people that Edwin cares for ends up paralleling him to Angie, our monster of the week. Angie also exploits the emotional attachment of someone to their loved ones for personal gain, but in her case it's to actively seek out food. What separates the two to me, is that the Cat King does not need Edwin to care for him, nor does he need Edwin to survive, he just wants Edwin, therefore making him kind of worse that the monster that we go into this Episode trying to slay.

Again, this does end up assisting Edwin in his eventual realization that he likes Charles, but it's the entirely wrong way of going about it. The scene ends with me just feeling like Edwin got thrown around like a mouse by this cat in the middle of something that's genuinely important to him. And then the confession of why Edwin does the casework. Sweet Jesus. Yes, it's good that Edwin gets that truth out for the sake of the audience, but the knowledge that the Cat King gains out of it is chilling to me. It's another display of the power the Cat King holds over Edwin because while you can argue that he uses the binding spell on Edwin as payback for what happened to his cats, forcing the truth out of Edwin was nothing but for himself. I think he believes it's for Edwin's sake, to make him feel more comfortable sharing things now that the first hurdle has passed, but it... really doesn't? The way that this backfires really emphasizes the way that pushing Edwin's boundaries like this isn't a good way to gain his affection.

The last thing to point out in this specific interaction is the last couple of lines of the scene, specifically the way that the Cat King taunts Edwin about the cat count of 142 being "way off". We know this is a bluff because later, he confirms that there are 147 cats in Port Townsend, including himself of course. The irony to this scene in my opinion is the fact that the Cat King just said to Edwin that he wanted him to be more honest, and then immediately lies. The double standard is insane, and I can't tell if the Cat King realizes it or not.

Something I feel important to note as well is the way that Edwin, in the same episode, when asked if he'd like to kiss the Cat King answers painfully fast. Monty he at least considers, but the Cat King isn't even an option to him. To me, this just displays further how horrifically the Cat King has fucked up any chances of a meaningful relationship with Edwin.

The Cat King Becomes an Incel for a Hot Minute: Episode 6

Episode 6... Oh boy Episode 6. Episode 6 is hard because he doesn't stop being a boundary pusher, but it's also ever the more evident just how much this stupid cat cares about Edwin. I would love to defend him and be like "oh actions speak louder than words" but his actions STILL suck in this scene. So, let's break down those action one by one.

First off, he goes to the forest. That's a big one because he mentions that he's been looking for Edwin the entire night, seemingly for no other reason than to explain to him the situation with Monty being an essential double agent. The first bit of the interaction between the Cat King and Monty isn't much to note, in my opinion, because it's mostly just taunting. But, in this case, the taunting is kind of warranted. Though I personally empathize with Monty's situation, he is still leading Edwin into a trap that could kill him. Where the Cat King pushes boundaries again is the goddamn kiss. It feels... icky. Predatory.

Again, there's no consent in this situation, and though it all comes from a place of worrying for Edwin's safety, I'm not sure that excuses it. I will grant the Cat King the fact that he's extraordinarily honest with Edwin throughout the scene, exposing Monty's identity and the case without beating around the bush much. The way that the Cat King ends the interaction, because though I'm not exactly sure what to think about the Cat King's approval of Edwin lashing out at Monty, I know exactly what I think about what follows.

Edwin, rightly, immediately thinks to take the information he just learned to Crystal and Charles, the two people who could still be in danger because of this now pointless case. The Cat King takes this time to make yet another move instead of just... accepting the fact that he helped and that could build Edwin's trust later. The way the Cat King says "I believe I'm at least owed a little thank-you" threw me off the first time I watched it, but I accepted it. I suppose Edwin could have been more polite. And then the Cat King said "By the way, the second kiss is always much better."

Dude. What. So, to break this down, the Cat King comes out to help save Edwin from a potentially life threatening situation only because he believes that he will get a reward out of it. When Edwin refuses (rightfully so, what the fuck) the Cat King asserts his power again by saying that he's "not someone to be dismissed". Edwin's words are harsh when he states that the Cat King is nothing more than the chain linking him to Port Townsend, but I don't feel as though he's entirely wrong to be upset in this situation. The Cat King, instead of making me feel bad for him afterwards, goes full Nice Guy™ on Edwin afterwards by yelling at him that he'll stop playing nice. Instead of taking literally two seconds to introspect, he threatens Edwin like that's going to keep his stubborn ass from doing anything.

Hello? What happened to fair and consensual Cat King, dude? He's so out of touch with how to actually express his affection for someone, and it's honestly insane.

Alone: Episode 7

Episode 7 is the third to last time we see the Cat King, and it's the first time that he's not in the presence of Edwin. We see him be more vulnerable here, and get a better understanding of how he acts when he's cornered. He starts off haughty, continues his antics with innuendo to offset tension, and then continues to taunt Ester until he gets literally killed by her. After his death he expresses his fear through anger, and continues to attempt to defend Edwin. First by trying to remind her that he's not going to give her the youth she desires, then by telling her to "keep your paws off of him".

It's somewhat heart warming to know he does truly care for Edwin, but he's still in it for himself, ultimately. He doesn't attempt to go against Esther again out of fear that he'll die for it, and his values of his survival above else. It's great character building, and a great flaw, but again annoying that he only expresses this level of care without Edwin around.

Redemption?: Episode 8

Episode 8 is meant to be his, sort-of, redemption Episode in my opinion. He is vulnerable with Niko and Crystal in regards to his fear of Esther (kind of, he does confess that he was killed by her), gives them information on Esther's background, and also gives them a tip off on something that could help stop her - black salt.

After Niko's death, when he presents Edwin with flowers, I believe he is meant to be at his best. He does not demand anything from Edwin in that moment, only apologizes for the loss of Niko and compliments her bravery. It's interesting to note that the lilies that he gifts to Edwin are toxic to cats, potentially a symbol of his attempt to be less selfish when it comes to him. And that he doesn't ask for anything more from Edwin when he is given the kiss on the cheek.

Of course, he still maintains his bravado and teasing nature, but that - it seems - is meant to be the Cat King's redemption arc.

But... is it enough?

Is it Enough?: Conclusions

I don't think so, personally. I think that in a Season 2, the Cat King could've become a better, less selfish, person. But at the moment, I think he's still stuck in the same middle ground that Monty ends up in where the one good deed he does ends up being a small drop in the bullshit that comes before that. While I do think that Monty is ultimately more forgivable, there is still a lot that would need to happen to truly get both of them to a point where they can be forgiven by those they harmed (and me, tbh). The Cat King may have done better eventually, but he still never really apologized for his contributions to everything that happened in Port Townsend, or the bullshit that he did to Edwin personally.

All this to circle back around to this: Fuck Netflix for depriving us of Season 2 and potentially truly redeeming the Cat King and having him actually learn to care about Edwin in a way that doesn't push his boundaries immeasurably. And fuck Netflix for not giving me a chance to see the Cat King start to accept the fact that he is fucking lonely and does way too much to cover it up. I need him acknowledging his fuck ups, becoming a genuine protagonist and not just someone who could be good! He has so much potential to be more than a mere predator playing with his food and Netflix took that from us.

Tldr; Netflix is the real villain here, but the Cat King sure does a good job of trying to be the best, most complicated, most annoying, most horrifying antagonist.

#dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #save dead boy detectives #renew dead boy detectives #the cat king #cat king #dbda cat king #dbda analysis #analysis #i had to cut out so many mini tangents about monty #but i'd love to talk about him too #and why he sucks but he's wonderful but he kinda sucks but #every character in this show is so wonderfully complex #but i needed to rant abt the cat king specifically because he's a mess of contradictions and pushing consent #fuck netflix #and i'm so sorry this is like 2000 words

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darerendevil · 1 year ago

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*SPOILERS*

Aaron Schimberg kept it brief in his introduction before A Different Man had its world premiere January 21 at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival: “This is the one time I have to be able to show a film without anybody knowing anything about it.” A hush fell over the Eccles audience as the writer-director said that. It’s true. There’s before you see A Different Man, and then there’s after. The before is full of anticipation for the complex drama starring Sebastian Stan, Adam Pearson, and Renate Reinsve. The after is a rush of heart-clenching realizations about your own sense of self-worth, the true values of society, and questions about the ownership of your identity and story — even if you aren’t sure you want to own it yourself.

Edward (Stan) is an actor...

with a facial disfigurement who sticks to himself, doesn’t fix the leak in the ceiling of his apartment, and books parts in training videos for companies to learn how to treat people with disabilities just like everyone else. When his doctor tells him of a new experimental procedure that can “cure” his appearance, he decides to try it so he can be treated normally, like the people in the horrific training videos he shoots.

As Edward’s facial growths start to peel off — in a scene one can only describe as a moving Francis Bacon painting — instead of feeling relief, he still feels the need to hide who he is from everyone. That includes his playwright neighbor Ingrid (Reinsve), who has thrust herself into Edward’s orbit without fully letting him into hers.

His solution? To fake his own death and reemerge as a new “normal” guy hastily named Guy. This shedding of his skin seems to be working — he gets a new job as the most shiny of real estate agents and has a new, fancy loft apartment — until he sees that Ingrid has followed through on her goal to write a play with a part for him. Unfortunately, the play is about him, her dead neighbor, and their relationship through her eyes.

This is where A Different Man starts to fold in on itself in a brilliant meta statement about representation and authorization within the entertainment industry.

“[The film] is playing with various disability tropes,” explains Schimberg during the post-premiere discussion. “Like the sad disfigured man in his apartment, and playing around with those elements.” Since Edward’s story starts with that trope, it leaves the viewer uncomfortable and upset when we see Ingrid using these same tired storylines. It proves that she never really knew Edward, but had no problem using his disfigurement to push through a play about her being a “good person.”

But, wait, weren’t we introduced to Edward in the same fashion? The film doubles down on this complication by having Edward-presenting-as-Guy beg his neighbor to let him play her version of himself within her off-Broadway show. Even with the face of an actual Hollywood movie star, Edward is bending his life around the preconceived notions of others. His desire to be both the before and after Edward is complicated further when Oswald (Pearson), an effervescent and charming man with similar facial disfigurements as the original Edward, enters the theater during rehearsal and proceeds to take his role and his relationship with Ingrid away.

On the subject of casting this complicated weave of an identity story, Schimberg recalls how thorny that was even within his own singular vision: “I thought you’re caught in a bind because some people said that casting Adam was exploitative, and then on the other hand casting a Hollywood star and putting him in prosthetics is also the opposite of what we think of as representation, even though it’s still very commonly used. So I was caught in a bind and I just thought: I’m going to do a movie that does both. I’m going to have a Hollywood actor in prosthetics, I’m going to have Adam be Adam and see what comes of it and build some kind of path forward.”

That path forward is a masterful film filled with tension. But while it might seem like the struggle is going to be between Edward and Oswald, A Different Man’s only true tension is within Edward himself. Stan excels as he wrestles with embarrassment and longing for his former face. Every time someone comments on Oswald’s appearance to Edward while he’s passing as Guy, you can feel the hot anger within him because they assume he agrees with their vile opinions. “Suppression is a really bad thing,” Stan says, passionate about his character and this creative journey. “That was my take on [why Edward hid his true identity]. But I think, sometimes, when you spend so much time denying yourself you don’t have the courage in those moments to speak up.”

“That was kind of the hook we gave to Sebastian,” Pearson continues. “Yeah you don’t know what it’s like to have a disfigurement, but you do know what it’s like to not have privacy and to have your life constantly invaded, for better or worse.” Stan nods his head emphatically, “Public property, right?”Pearson nods back at him down the line. “Yeah, those are the kind of chats we had to get it right.” He pauses and chuckles.

“I’m glad it wasn’t a physical battle because I would have lost that one.”

#Sebastian Stan #Adam Pearson #Renate Reinsve #A different man #Sundance #Sundance 2024

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el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle · 6 months ago

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Which characters do you like the most and the least?

Hiii!!

Oh I love all the most important characters, although for different reasons! (I'm assuming this is about S1 lol)

I love Betty so much because I see myself in her a lot, which is something that I've always struggled to do with media representation with female characters. Growing up with such harsh insecurities, a family always trying to cheer us up about it, being so clumsy and a bit awkward, the self esteem issues, and even by the same first experience with a relationship that turned out to be fake! (Not fully the same, but something along those lines). When I first watched ysblf I felt very much like Betty pre change. Now I look back on it and still remember how it all felt! I see so much of me in Betty as a girl growing in the 2000s with lots of self esteem issues and my family as my backbone (although Betty is a much better, much smarter, and much a more patient person than me, by far lmao.) Leaving that aside, she's a genuinely good person. I love her real sorority, her genuine desire to help the Ecomoda employees, her love for her family and for Nicolás. I also love that fire in her. She's stubborn but determined. She's not perfect and allowed herself to be consumed by rage and her emotions because she's no angel. She never was. She slept with an engaged man knowing he was engaged, and she did it because she loved him. She accepted a bribe, and had it not being for her dad talking her out of it, she would have gotten the money because her family goes above anything else. She's fully human but so compassionate and funny and with so much love to give!

I love Armando Mendoza because he's so far from perfect and goes absolutely against the Prince Charming trope, but grows throughout the series and you can see how his actions torture him. He's so worried about not being enough that he ends up proving that he wasn't. He's driven by ego and fear and insecurity, and yells and threatens because he's so insecure in his respectability and leadership and deep down knows he's messing up (which is also a pain in the ego because he wants everything to be perfect to prove himself). He seems so big and threatening but he's actually incredibly mentally fragile. He has very little discipline and is so quick to get his defenses up... but he also has a weak spot for those under his charge. He knows he has power and doesn't want to abuse it. He's pretty much like an addict, always messing up and hurting the people he loves but can't stop it. He wants to be good but doesn't know how. He treats his gf like shit because he doesn't want her at all but he doesn't have the guts to face the consequences of leaving her. He doesn't want to hurt her but can't find another way to deal with her. They bring the worst out of each other.

I love Mario Calderón becuase he's a horrible person lmao. He's so calm and happy and charming that you's think you found actual prince charming, just to end up with a wicked witch lmao. His happiness and friendliness isn't sincere. He's too observant, and can quickly find people's weaknesses and doesn't care about exploiting them. He'll lurk in the corner and then insert ideas into Armando's mind. His biggest flaw is that he thinks he's much smarter than he actually is, but also is always suspicious of people around him. He's always making schemes but never thinks things through on the long run. He's totally okay with using and discarding people because he thinks they'd do the same if they could. He's totally okay with fanning the flames of paranoia in Armando's mind. He fears nothing but public humiliation, mainly because he likely lives off public perception. He's also hilarous and. Always makes me laugh!

I love Marcela because she's both so wrong and so right, and I can't fully blame her for either. She's sickly attahced to this man that she desperately wants but doesn't love, because she can't stand him or have anything in common with him, but NEEDS him because at this point it's a matter of principle, of pride, of ego, and most important, of family. He's her everything: her childhood companion, her boss, her fellow executive, her fellow owner of the company her mom and dad created, her basically adopted brother. They grew up together. It's a lifetime of attachment. Her own basically adoptive parents keep telling her all the time they're perfect for each other! But she's also so deeply resentful of him because he treats her like shit. She, just like him, is practically always on the defensive, but like an addict she cannot stop looking for him even though it hurts her so much. So she hurts him too. That's their game, the only thing they know with each other. It's a constant battle, one that keeps you on edge. At the same time, she's so full of ego that she hates every woman that Armando lays eyes on because she can't hold HIM accountable so she hates them instead. She hates Betty because Betty has everything she wants from Armando without even havi g to fight. She got it from day 1. She despises Betty because she represents all that should be between Armando and her. And it's a pain in the ego to know that Betty being so ugly and poor still wins this round over her. She thinks she should have all that because she's supposedly socially perfect and has worked for it, even though her "work" actually comes from a place of ego and hurt and pain.

Those are my favorite characters! Honestly, I could write ESSAYS about each of them, this js only the tip of the iceberg lmao

Regarding the ones I don't like, I honestly like mot of them. Different degrees, ofc. I like Mariana much more than I like Sofia, for example, and I dislike Patty much more than I dislike AM lmao.

The only character that J can totally say I fully dislike is Jenny. I dislike her so much that I skip her scenes in the rewatches jajaja whiny tones are absolutely jarring for my ears lmao but sometimes a good story can balance it out, but Jenny doesn't really have it. She's just bad because and we know nothing else lmao

Sorry this is a big rambli g with no editing lmao thanks for the question!

#ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #betty la fea #armando mendoza #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #armando ysblf #betty ysblf #marcela valencia #mario calderon

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jymwahuwu · 1 year ago

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Lanii I based on the Jingrenheng and unconventional darlings ask I imagine that weapon!darling is the cutest with either Blade or Dan Heng because both of them explores the universe, so you'll be exploring with them and they feel bad about isolating you because you were considered as a government's property fully under their control. They don't have the heart to act controlling yk. To them you're babey even if you're well...dangerous.

On the other hand, you're a struggle for Jingyuan and Dan Feng because they're in high ranking positions of the Luofu, and snatching you away means making enemies of your powerful planet. Secondly you're considered as a weapon fully under the government's control so there's no such thing as a political marriage, it's like giving away your best asset to another country. At least Jingyuan has his social skills and smile so he can at least interact with you, but Dan Feng? He's cold. Reminds you of all those people who wants to control you, don't like him :(

This points out the difference between the two groups! Indeed, Blade and Dan Heng - No matter how dangerous your abilities are, how far you go on the path of "destruction", you are still lovable and exploitable. Blade can empathize with your pain… and for Dan Heng, accepting a new family member is a natural thing.

For Jing Yuan and Dan Feng, they may prefer "trade" because this is the only way a powerful space civilization can agree to transfer you. They didn't feel comfortable with this plan, especially since you were forced into a coma before being transferred to Luofu. They can't help but think about what kind of fate you suffered in the past…

Still, Dan Feng just scares you at first 😹 He orders you to relax and have fun as seriously as he orders you to fight. You suspect that he will reveal his true colors soon… Jing Yuan will take advantage of this because obviously you like his charm better (in his own opinion) :3

#alani.answers

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justasadlittledoctor · 13 days ago

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This is about a boy from the summer before my senior year of high school. I met him in June, he left in August, and I’ve been thinking about him ever since.

And this is where I have to add the trigger warning.

TW: abusive relationship, love bombing, emotional manipulation, sexual coercion

In the summer of 2009 I was 17 years old and about to go into my senior year of high school in the California Bay Area. Out of nowhere I received a friend request on Facebook from an attractive young man and we began talking. He said that he was my exact same age (17) and also about to go into his senior year of high school. He said that he was from Portland, Oregon but was moving to my town in California with his dad and was going to be attending my high school for his senior year. I have no idea if any of that was actually true, but I’ll get into that more later.

We began talking on Facebook and texting back and forth, and he absolutely showered me with praise, attention, and affection. As a deeply insecure 17-year-old girl, I’m sure I made it easy for him to charm me.

He quickly wanted to meet in person and he wanted me to come to his apartment and meet him there, but thankfully my latent “stranger danger” kicked in and I insisted we meet somewhere public for the first time. He wasn’t happy about it but still agreed, but then of course he had me meet him in a very unsafe part of town in the middle of the night. I went there to meet him, and then as soon as I told him I was there he abruptly stopped answering my calls and texts and left me alone in the most dangerous part of the town in the middle of the night. At the time I just thought it was a weird thing that happened, but years later I learned that this is actually a common tactic men use to manipulate women. I learned that it’s actually quite common among abusive men to ask girls to meet them in dangerous and unsafe areas to put them in a position of danger and insecurity that they can then exploit.

He later apologized and gave an explanation for the whole thing and agreed to meet somewhere public in the middle of the day.

From the moment I actually met him in person, it was a complete whirlwind of what I now recognize as “love bombing”. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but now that I’m older and wiser, I can see that it was almost like a checklist of textbook love bombing techniques. He rapidly escalated our relationship. He almost immediately said “I love you” to me and pressured me to say it back and got visibly upset when I wouldn’t. He wanted to talk to me 24/7, but then would go through random periods of being completely unreachable, not answering his phone or any messages. He just absolutely showered me with adoration and love, which of course he used as a means of forcing physical intimacy upon me.

This whole relationship took place only over the course of a single summer, but he consistently insisted that because he was moving here, we were going to be permanent boyfriend and girlfriend once he moved here permanently and started his senior year at my high school. He constantly said that we would do our senior year together and that he would be my boyfriend, which he weaponized to pressure me into several sexual acts that I was uncomfortable with.

He was constantly trying to get me to come to his apartment and I would usually resist, but even staying in public did not protect me fully. I would always insist on meeting in public, like in a park or a coffee shop, but he would always find a way to pull me into a deserted alley, or behind an abandoned building, or into an isolated wooded area. There, he would kiss and grope me and stick his hands inside my clothes, sometimes shoving a hand inside my underwear and touching my genitals, and often pressuring me to touch his penis. At one point he pulled down my dress and exposed my breasts in public, and despite my obvious discomfort he tried to continue and pull it off and attempted to strip me naked. I begged him to stop, and eventually had to physically push his hands away from me and quickly move away from him to re-cover myself. This was in a public park, just off the path from a walking trail.

Whenever I expressed any kind of discomfort with the sexual activity he was imposing on me, he would assuage me with more love bombing, insisting that he loved me and that I loved him and that once he moved here permanently he was going to be my boyfriend and we were going to spend our whole senior year together as a couple.

Towards the end of the summer he finally pressured me to come to his apartment under the guise that it was just to hang out and watch movies. I was still uncomfortable with going, so I brought a friend with me in the hopes that that would prevent any unwanted touching from him. Unfortunately, he spent the entire time trying to pressure me to come into his bedroom with him. I kept saying no, but he wouldn’t let it go.

Eventually he went into his room and called me to “come in here for a second”, and I still said no, but my friend said “just go see what he wants”. I went in there and he immediately closed the door and pulled me onto the bed. All I could manage to do was resist his attempts at penetration and allow him to use me to bring himself to orgasm. My friend laughed at me afterwards and made fun of me for being so “easy”.

I’m not entirely sure if that was the last time I ever saw him, but it was one of the last times. He left at the end of the summer to “go back up to Portland with his Dad and get the rest of his stuff to move down here”. I waited for him to come back. The school year started, aka my senior year that he was allegedly going to spend with me at my school as my boyfriend. He never came back. I texted and he didn’t answer. His Facebook profile was last updated in 2010. I never saw or heard from him again.

I did, however, hear ABOUT him. Apparently I was not the only girl at my school who he had spent their summer with him. Apparently there were a lot of girls who were under the impression that he was going to move down here, start at our high school, and be their boyfriend. Not all of them were incoming Seniors though. Some were incoming Freshmen. Some were as young as 13.

I don’t know if he was actually a teenager himself or if he was older, but I highly suspect he was an adult who was weaponizing the fact that he looked young. I have no idea what he was actually doing in my town for that summer. I never met or saw his Dad that he was allegedly living in that apartment with, I never even saw any evidence of another person living in that apartment besides him. I strongly suspect that the Dad was never there, that he was older than 17 and there on his own, although I do not know for what purpose he was there just for that summer and then left.

All I know is that when I think about the summer I was 17, the summer of my senior year, the word that comes to mind is “violation”. I think about the part of me that died at 17 years old and the graveyard I still have in me at 33 years old. I think about how I wish I could protect not just myself, but the other girls he violated that summer.

I don’t know who he is, or where he is, or who he has become. But I hope that wherever he is, he is far, far, far away from teenage girls.

#female writer #feminism #feminist #womanism #womanist #tw grooming #grooming #love bombing #tw sa #tw sa mention #pro woman

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asmrtist-brainrot · 1 year ago

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Yandere Listeners

Again, it's mostly soft yans. But I wanted to explore the ideas a little more.

I'll be using they/them pronouns since the Listeners have characterization that I can reposition.

The most murdery/violent is probably Boo.

Have this as a little apology for my lack of posts. ^^;

This might just be a part one to more???

~ Dari

Warning(s): References of murder, stabbing, knives, decapitation, torture, and knives. Implied Cannibalism(mostly just a Sweeney Todd reference). Bittersweet Spoilers. Disturbing - Obsessive/Possessive Behavior.

Angel (Redacted ASMR)

honestly, it only took a moment for them want to start following David

usually though, it's not in their MO or yandere type to be stalking - but after they've seen him again and again so many times... they just accept it as is

even actively looking for him and used their charm and natural charisma to be able to make him believe that it was a coincidence

lowkey delusional; most definitely thinks of their meetings as fated

honestly... Michael might have the worst experience in this timeline because the minute he presented himself as a possible threat to their relationship with David, they're ready to cash in his life warranty

and steal their cat back

they adore the wolf pack and quietly considers killing for them, and often; it's pretty darn likely that they could get away with it too - after all...

they're only a delicate little unempowered human. how could they have killed someone so much stronger than them?

like Sweetheart's asshole coworkers, Quinn, and so on are probably... not safe?

they don't usually end up going through with killing after the mention of seers and telepaths being a thing; but there are some rather twisted ideas in their head on how they'd deal with Quinn

he is most definitely not prepared when he goes after them

they learned everything they could about vampires and used every exploitable thing to use against him

he was lucky he was caught, Angel would have somehow turned his ribs into a knife holder and turned his spine into a belt for what he's done

Caelum is probably pretty concerned with all these... thoughts that pass through their feelings -

but they haven't ever acted on any of them, so it should be okay!

... right?

Boo (YuuriVoice)

they're unsurprisingly willing to kill for their boys, that was definitely after their brief internal rage at Seth reappearing and raising hell

honestly, when when they seeked him out in the woods - his fate hinged on how he would have reacted to their confrontation...

it was likely he would've easily been poisoned and body disposed of, if not for the fact that Boo was still emotionally mature and fully self-aware

their bloodlust fell away when they see how broken up he truly was and that he just... wanted to move on

so they helped, despite their obsession screeching at them not to

when Seth was jumped, when you saw him busted up - that was it

he was under your protection, and you promised to yourself that you'd gut Derek like a fish given the first chance

you would see the son of a fuck dead if it was the last thing you did

even Charlie and Jessie weren't necessarily safe, being as you could still be reasoned with - it was good you didn't have to kill them

"that boy's got a family now and ain't nothing gonna take it from him" is the line that saved Jess from your wrath in particular

you were sure you couldn't help Seth heal his poor little heart from this loss

but if either of them made sure that harm could never come to your boys again - you would absolutely wipe them too

the only people that are aware is the storyweaver Finn

and Derek, who is most definitely terrified of you, regardless if he's been killed in another storyline (the percentage of you killing him vs. everyone else is high, so you've been the end of him many times)

there are bloodier timelines - ones with Seth disappearing after the first confrontation, ones where Jessie is presumably wiped by Derek, where Charlie was allegedly to be caught by another thug for bring a rat... Just ones with you with another body under your belt

it's really good that Alphonse and Seth never find out about this streak of cruelty - you could never bring it in yourself to hurt them after learning to love them so deeply

when Al warns other people to be more concerned about what you could do over what he would do is more true than he could ever know

everybody is real fucking lucky that you weren't Sweeney Todd's Ms. Lovett, because the body count on you could make enough meat pies to fill a house

Cheeky (Scythe Audio)

bitches should be absolutely praying that they don't drive this little lightbulb over the edge, because they are asking for all the wrong things to happen

Cheeky is a pacifist for the most part, they fight to defend, to make sure they're doing their part in saving the world and can instants when people need to die for the greater good

but people need to stop testing them

the yan trait thing wss probably triggered through their isolation as an experiment, realizing how alone they were

seeing V again and being able to live with him was enough for them to grow that attachment; Cheeky is also very lucid and try everything to stamp out their tendencies

L in particular was saved because she was just so very important to their V, despite their burning jealousy

the Atrocity was actually surpised at the fact their utter fury and bloodlust at the loss of the children, that it was all pointed at him as well

it also amused him as he taunted them for being kindred spirits

at least until they broke out of his mind control with the blood boiling wrath they felt at being compared to him in any manner

Atrocity is even taken aback by the animosity

"How can we be alike if you have no one? When no one ever loved you in the first place?"

they stabbed him right in that sore spot, having seen into his mind for just a second

their light powers are nearly bolstered by this love for V and L and their hits actually hurt... they hurt a lot

but they're still not as skilled yet, so the other two still stepped in...

maybe it's best they learn how to channel this rage of their's; with any luck, they could do more permanent damage

they aim to keep him Atrocity as a toothless head and watch him die slowly...

hopefully in time

but first, they have a bone to pick with Anima

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zot3-flopped · 6 months ago

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That was a great anon about the ways in which Larries ignore Harry’s words. Can I join in? Because they also ignore facts they could know if they actually had any intellectual curiosity about Harry, instead of just learning about him through Larry master posts and fanfics. (There are probably so many of these!)

- Mitch signed to Erskine Records and Larries were genuinely surprised that Harry had his own record company: they were told he was entirely under the control of Sony/Columbia, not someone who licenses his work to them in a complex (and unknowable) record deal.

- They have heard Harry talk about Jeff Azoff as his best friend, they’ve seen the affection between them, but they believe that Jeff is Harry’s puppet master, everything being orchestrated by Irving Azoff. One quick google will tell you Irv finds Harry to be a charming curiosity, not one of his music business slaves.

- They are obsessed with all of Harry’s business dealings being somehow in the service of the Azoffs, when it is easily verifiable that he is the one who has the controlling share of his companies.

- They discovered that various members of Harry’s team are gay, and to my knowledge haven’t allowed that fact to register fully. As far as they are concerned, Harry is not allowed to be out. The fact that two of his managers are out gay men, partnered up and everything, seems to be quite challenging for them to take in.

- They decided he was being exploited by HSLOT - 169 dates over 2 years was ruining him - but he owns the touring company and presumably, as a grown man with years of experience on the road, he would have mentioned it early on if he thought he couldn’t handle what his company had put together for him. Absurd to think of the boss being told he had to work himself to the bone or else!

These Larries love their oppression fantasies and will never grant Harry autonomy, when it's very clear that he has it in all areas of his career.

Larries are also convinced that HS4 was scheduled for May and Columbia forced Harry to postpone it because they didn't want him competing against Beyonce in the 2025 Grammys. Beyonce is a Columbia artist! Her release date was not a surprise to Harry and his team! And if Harry was so troubled by Beyonce he wouldn't have released HsH in May 2022.

#louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #zayn #niall horan #jeff azoff #larries #👏👏👏#beyonce

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 11 months ago

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Michael After Midnight: The Films of Quentin Tarantino

There are few directors out there as ridiculously praised and extremely controversial as Quentin Tarantino. He’s done nothing his whole career but release films that garner critical acclaim and massive fanbases due to the stellar acting and writing within his films, but at the same time he’s been relentlessly criticized for his excessive use of racial slurs, his excessive homages to the point of plagiarism, and his habit of inserting his fetishes into every single one of his movies. What fetishes do I mean? Let’s just say his films have a lot of sole, and it would be no easy feet to go toe-to-toe with how in your face he is about what he likes.

While the man does have his problems (don’t get me started, I’m here to review movies, not gossip) and his style certainly isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I’ve found myself enjoying his work a lot ever since I was a teenager, and his films are what pushed me into checking out a lot of more obscure films in the exploitation genre; in particular, I’m a pretty big fan of blaxploitation thanks to Tarantino’s work, and I doubt I would’ve ever checked it out if not for his constant homages. I can’t really hate a guy who helped make me aware of Pam Grier, can I?

What’s most impressive is that out of his ten films there’s not one I would say is genuinely “bad.” Sure, there’s at least one I think is a boring, middling affair, and there are a couple of heavily flawed but still solid films, but there isn’t a single awful movie in his filmography. That’s honestly pretty impressive, especially considering the sort of weird throwback films he makes. After finally sitting down and watching Once Upon a Time in Hollywood recently, I decided it was finally time to bite the bullet and do what was a long time coming on this blog: Review Tarantino’s movies. And then I just decided, hey, why not review them all at once, as an homage to Schafrillas Productions and his director rankings? Oho, see, I can homage things too!

To be clear here, I’m only reviewing the films Quentined and Tarantined by the man himself; the “Tarantinoverse” is a bit more expansive than his own filmography, as True Romance (which he wrote) is canon and Machete, Machete Kills, From Dusk Til Dawn, Hobo with a Shotgun, Planet Terror, Thanksgiving, and the Spy Kids movies are all part of the “show within a show” side of his world, but those are all topics for another time. Right now, it’s all Tarantino baby! Now let��s get on to the actual ranking, and pray that I don’t put a foot in my mouth with these opinions.

10. Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood

I feel pretty safe in calling this Tarantino’s worst film. It’s not necessarily awful or anything, it has good qualities to it, but it takes every problem Tarantino’s style has and cranks it up to 11.

The film is long and dialogue-heavy, with lots of that classic Tarantino writing, but while individual scenes are good such as when Leonardo DiCaprio’s character is filming a scene with a little girl or Brad Pitt’s character goes to the ranch the Manson Family are holed up at they never really feel like they congeal into a cohesive narrative, instead feeling more like a long string of vignettes. This is especially bad in regards to Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate, whose numerous scenes really add nothing to the movie but constant looming reminders that Helter Skelter is going to happen and lots of shots of Robbie’s feet. The excessively padded runtime is so bad that when you finally get to the part where the tables are turned on the Manson Family, a historical twist that should feel fun and cathartic, it comes off as too little, too late instead.

It’s really a shame the film is so meandering, because in almost every other aspect it really shines. Every actor is giving it their all; Pitt and DiCaprio are absolutely fantastic, Robbie brings charm even to her filler role, and every single bit part actor is fully committed and leaves a mark. Standouts include Dakota Fanning as the de facto head honcho of the Family when Manson is out and Mike Moh as Bruce Lee in a scene that is at once deeply disrespectful to one of history’s greatest action stars and also very funny. This is a film you can tell everyone involved gave a shit about.

But for me, it’s not enough for me to really love the film. I like a lot about the movie for sure, but I just hate how nothing ever really comes together in a satisfying way. Maybe if a bit of the fat was trimmed I would have a higher opinion of the movie, but as it is three hours of vignettes (even well-acted ones) is truly excessive. It’s mid at worst, but for Tarantino that’s still pretty shocking when everything else he’s done is above average at worst.

9. Death Proof

This is a truly underrated film, but frankly, it’s easy to see why it is that way. This half of the double feature that was Grindhouse is a throwback to films that were actually two movies spliced together, and it has all the issues that entails. The first half of the film is a more grounded, dialogue-heavy buildup to a terrifying conclusion, while the second half is a wild and crazy action and stunt showcase, and the two halves feel at odds with each other…which is by design, but still.

This might be a hot take, but I find the slow burning first half to be the superior part of the film. As much as I love Tarantino’s insane action films, Kurt Russell’s portrayal of the sinister Stuntman Mike is just just utterly gripping; he is easily one of the best villains in Tarantino’s filmography. The whole first half establishes him really well, building up the anxiety until he finally gets to show the girl he leaves with just how well he death proofed his car. He’s just so damn cool.

And then comes the second half where he’s reduced to a bit of a chump. And this probably wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the protagonists up against him were compelling, but they’re not. They’re a bunch of girls who are boring at best and relentlessly unpleasant at worst; the fact they leave behind one of their friends to an uncertain (but likely unpleasant) fate at the hands of a creepy redneck is especially appalling. Beatrix Kiddo they ain’t.

This is a wildly uneven film, so I can see why it didn’t find its audience right away, but I think these days it had garnered a minor cult following. If you can handle the flawed second half, this is still a really good movie with a captivating villain performance that more than makes up for its shortcomings, but I definitely can’t justify putting it any higher on this list.

8. Inglourious Basterds

Oh, this might be a controversial one. This movie is the same sort of beast as OUATIH, which is why I have it so low, but with one crucial difference: It does everything better. Yes, this movie is long and a bit meandering, but it always feels like it’s moving towards a final goal. Yes, it ends with a history-altering plot twist, but this one might be the most cathartic one of all time. And yes, there’s gratuitous feet shots, but at least they’re in plot-relevant scenes.

Of course, the best thing about the movie is the villain, Hans Landa. Christoph Waltz’s big American breakout is one of the most compelling villains of the 2010s, a charismatic, cunning, self-serving Nazi bastard who you really want to see get what’s coming to him. I might be inclined to call him the best Tarantino villain of all time.

I think what weirdly brings the film down is the titular Basterds themselves, and not because they ultimately feel superfluous to the plot; it’s the same sort of thing as Raiders of the Lost Ark, them being absent wouldn’t have changed much but we also wouldn’t have much of an exciting adventure. My issue is that Brad Pitt aside they are just not interesting or compelling at all. You really need to work hard to sell attempted filmmaker Eli Roth as the ultimate Jewish badass, and the film doesn’t really deliver. If only Adam Sandler took the role as was the original vision; we really were robbed. It’s all the worse because it cuts away from the actual compelling plot with Shosanna for these schmucks.

To be clear, I don’t think this is a bad film by any stretch of the imagination, but I find it falls short of the hype around it. I’ve seen it described as movie with a lot of great scenes that never really comes together to be a great movie, and I mostly agree with that assessment; there’s so much to love here, but also so much I don’t care about. It’s definitely worth watching but it’s also where you can see the seeds for the problems with OUATIH planted.

7. The Hateful Eight

This isn’t a Tarantino film held in a particularly high regard; it’s not exactly hated, but it’s not what anyone would call their favorite either. Its contentious nature boils down to something apparent right in the title: Every character in this movie is a fucking asshole. It can be genuinely hard to get invested in these people when they’re a big collection of liars, killers, sadists, criminals, racists, and rapists.

Now, if you can stomach these nasty characters, what you’re left with is “John Carpenter’s The Thing… but a Western!” And I have to admit as a huge fan of The Thing, this is a very solid reimagining of the concept in a grounded setting. I do wish there was any character to root for here, but watching a group of people slowly tearing each other apart in a claustrophobic, isolated setting is still fun to watch. I don’t think it’s nearly as good or insightful as Carpenter’s movie, but very few movies are.

This is definitely a movie I can see people hating more than the previous two films, but I feel like this movie is more consistent than Basterds or Death Proof. Those movies have higher highs, but this movie never hits the lows they do, and even if his character is a massive asshole Samuel L. Jackson is always great to see in a Tarantino flick. Plus that brief appearance from Channing Tatum is great, especially with how it ends. This is a very solid film, but “very solid” is about as high as the praise I’ll give it will get.

6. Reservoir Dogs

Tarantino’s directorial debut, and boy is that readily apparent. It does a good job at establishing hallmarks of his style, like the sorts of conversations his characters have, their love of racial slurs, non-linear storytelling, and his trend of casting himself as a douchey minor character. It does everything fairly well, and I’d go as far as to call it one of the best directorial debuts ever… and that’s about it, really.

Like this is a very good film with strong performances—Michael Madsen and Steve Buscemi being the standouts—but it definitely feels less refined than his later works with the same style. His sophomore film just completely blows this one out of the water, to the point it’s hard to muster up the interest to revisit this as opposed to watching Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time. It’s not that this film is bad; it’s just that Tarantino’s later films do what this one does better.

It’s definitely a good film, maybe even great, but there’s clear room to improve. Hell, there wasn’t a single shot of a woman’s feet in the whole movie! Tarantino was slacking.

5. Kill Bill: Vol. 2

Now we’re in to the really great movies. And yes, while it doesn’t keep up the energy of the first film, I would definitely call this a great movie.

Where the first volume was driven by action, this one is more driven by talking, and thankfully the characters are saying a lot of interesting things here (the standout being Bill’s media illiteracy in regards to Superman, which reveals a lot about his character). There’s also the reveal of Beatrix Kiddo’s name as well as her backstory, and there are some standout moments like Beatrix escaping from being buried alive and the tense final conversation with Bill. Overall, the film does a fantastic job at fleshing the story out and expanding our understanding of the characters.

Like I said, though, it just doesn’t keep up the energy of the first film. Budd is great and serves as a more psychological opponent, burying Beatrix alive as a way to test if she has the resolve to finish her quest for revenge, but both Elle and Bill himself are dealt with in a rather anti-climactic manner. It says a lot that O-Ren, one of Bill’s former lackeys, put up a grander and more impressive fight than her boss did. While I do appreciate the more philosophical approach, it’s hard not to be miffed when a duology called “Kill Bill” doesn’t kill Bill in a more grandiose way befitting the character.

Obviously, I don’t think it brings the film down much, and this is still a good conclusion to the story. I just can’t help but feel it could’ve amped things up just a bit, y’know?

4. Jackie Brown

This is probably the weirdest film in Tarantino’s filmography, being an adaptation of a book that lacks a lot of his usual style and features a lot of people he didn’t work with afterwards (like Robert De Niro and Pam Grier). This has led to a lot of people praising it as one of Tarantino’s best works for being unique among his oeuvre… and also a lot of people deriding it for how different it is from his usual style.

I definitely think it’s up there with his best works, but I don’t think it’s the absolute best. It’s sort of like how I see Christopher Nolan’s Batman movies; they’re great films (well, the first two anyway) but I can’t in good conscience hold them up as the best Batman media because they ultimately lack a lot of what makes me love Batman as a character. And this film lacks a lot of what makes me love a Tarantino movie; it’s a fantastic, realistic crime drama, but that’s not really what I’m watching Tarantino for, you know?

Still, its placement on this list should tell you I still see this as a must-watch. Starring Grier alone makes it worth checking out, and it definitely showcases Tarantino has far more range as a filmmaker than you’d expect.

3. Django Unchained

Right from the opening song, you can tell this is going to be an epic movie. Tarantino truly nailed the Western on his first go around, adding his own spin to the genre and making a truly stellar film. However, it’s not without a few issues.

The main cast is fantastic. We have Christoph Waltz as a noble and heroic abolitionist, an atypical role he pulls off flawlessly; Samuel L. Jackson as a sinister house slave who is all about licking the boot that treads on him; and of course Leonardo DiCaprio as a hammy, egotistical slave owner, a stellar villain role that should have nabbed him an Oscar. Even minor roles are great, with Don Johnson appearing as a plantation owner early on and Jonah Hill of all people popping up as a proto-Klansman.

You might notice I didn’t mention Jamie Foxx as the titular Django. That’s because, unfortunately, he’s a bit of an issue with the film. It’s not Foxx’s performance; he makes Django cool and likable, and his awesome trademark Tarantino roaring rampage of revenge in the third act sells him as a truly badass character. No, the issue is the narrative seems to seriously sideline him in favor of Waltz’s character, to the point for large swaths of the film he feels a bit like a side character in his own story. I don’t find it to be a huge issue, but it can be frustrating, especially since this is a very long movie and a few scenes drag on a bit longer than necessary. You really couldn’t give the title character a bit more to do until the last half hour, Quentin?

Still, I don’t think its issues hold it back all that much. This is an incredibly fantastic film whose highs easily overshadow its frustrating lows. Frankly, if any Tarantino movie deserves a sequel, it would be this one; I think Django has a lot of interesting stories in him, and a film where he actually gets to be the central character the whole time would be great.

2. Kill Bill: Vol. 1

This right here is pretty damn close to being my absolute favorite Tarantino film. Where something like OUATIH is all of Tarantino’s flaws compounded into one film, this is all of his strengths together in one film. Fantastically violent action, stellar casting with not a single weak performance, an awesome soundtrack, tons of great homages to the works that inspired it, non-linear storytelling used effectively, and more style in a single frame than some movies have in their entire runtime.

Frankly, I don’t have a lot of issues with the movie, though I kind of don’t like how all the action is front loaded while all the character insight and dialogue gets shoved into the second part. It’s nothing that makes me think less of either film, but I think maybe sprinkling more insight into who the Bride is in this movie and putting some more action in the second part would keep the sequel from feeling a bit anti-climactic. I also wish we got more of Vernita Green, the first assassin we see dispatched onscreen and the one who gets the least characterization; with a third film increasingly unlikely at this point, meaning we won’t ever see her daughter seek her vengeance, it’s a shame we don’t get at least a little more of a look into who she is as a person like we did with Budd and especially O-Ren.

Aside from that, though? This is Tarantino at his best, and Uma Thurman’s crowning achievement as an actress, one that cements her as action royalty alongside the greats like Schwarzenegger, Stallone, and Weaver. There’s just one film Tarantino did that, objectively, is a much better film, and I’m sure as soon as you saw this ranking you knew exactly what it’d be...

1. Pulp Fiction

Of course this takes the top spot. Was there ever any doubt? This movie is everything Tarantino is about rolled into one supremely satisfying package.

The cast is nothing short of phenomenal. We have Bruce Willis in his prime, we’ve got John Travolta pulling out of a career slump, we’ve got Uma Thurman and Ving Rhames in roles that put them on the map, and we have a veritable buffet of talent in minor roles, the most memorable of which is Christopher Walken telling a child the delightful story of a pocket watch’s journey home from war. There’s not a bad performance here. But of course the real superstar is Samuel L. Jackson, who gave a career-defining performance as Jules, the baddest motherfucker around (it says so on his wallet).

The great performances wouldn’t matter much if not for the great script, though. The dialogue in this film is unreal with how good it is, with characters having very odd yet also very realistic and natural conversations. Jules and Vince discussing burgers, for instance, is one of the most memorable sequences in the film… and it’s just them driving! Some of the writing is a little contentious (did you really need to have your character say the N-word fifty times, Quentin?), but none of it is really bad.

I will say Tarantino as Jimmy is one of my few issues with the film, but also an issue I kind of like anyway. His acting is a wonky and there is genuinely no reason why he should be spouting off all these racial slurs (even in-universe, since his buddy Jules and his wife are black), but the sheer audacity of the whole thing saves it. Still, I can’t help but feel the scene hasn’t aged as gracefully as a lot of the film, and the amateur performance from Tarantino sticks out all the more because he is standing right next to two of the most talented actors ever.

Another aspect of the film I think has aged pretty poorly is the gay hillbilly rapists, but I don’t think this aspect is as cut and dry as “hey maybe the white director who has little acting training shouldn’t play the guy who says the N-word.” On the one hand, having the only queer characters in your movie being depraved rapists is not a good look, though this was par for the course for the 90s. On the other hand, the movie treats Marsellus getting raped with the same level of deadly seriousness that a woman in that position would receive in a film. That’s a pretty bold, progressive plot point, especially since men getting raped (especially male-on-male) was and still is used as a joke. And watching the movie in a day and age with tons of queer characters in media does soften the blow a bit, because these aren’t the only gay characters you’ll see in fiction anymore. I think it’s important to have discussions about these sorts of archaic portrayals of queers in film, but I don’t think this breaks the movie.

In modern times the film has gotten a reputation as a “red flag” film loved by toxic guys, and I think that’s unfair; is it the movie’s fault dudebros fail to see the movie is a refutation of crime and violence? Think about it: The only person in the film who gets an unambiguously happy ending is the one who has a spiritual awakening and abandons his criminal ways to walk the Earth. Every other major character pays in some way for their continued violent ways: Butch goes through Hell and ends up in exile, Marsellus Wallace gets raped, Mia overdoses and nearly dies, and Vince does die. Hell, there’s an entire segment where Jules and Vince are repeatedly chastised for careless violence causing a huge mess; as you may recall, Jules’ pal Jimmy was not too keen to find Phil LaMarr dead in his garage, and had some choice words to say about it. Stupid people see the blood and slurs and take it at face value, but the narrative itself tells these sorts they’re well and truly fucked because when you live by the sword, you die by the sword.

Of course, my favorite interpretation of the film is that it is espousing the belief that Beatles fans are superior to Elvis ones, as an extension of Mia’s comment in a deleted scene that you’re either an Elvis person or a Beatles person. Vince is clearly an Elvis guy, and he is presented as an unprofessional, careless buffoon who causes numerous issues and ends up dying due to his own inattentiveness; meanwhile, Jules is vaguely implied to be the proverbial “Beatles guy” (he calls the robber in the diner “Ringo”) and escapes the film unscathed. This is even funnier when you consider that one of Tarantino’s first onscreen roles was as an Elvis impersonator in Golden Girls, something that implies he might be an Elvis guy himself, which would make the film the most epic act of self-deprecation ever.

This is one of the greatest sophomore releases from a director ever, and one of the greatest films of the 90s. This film frequently finds its way to the top of “best films of all time” lists, and with good reason; it is, to this day, just that good. I think there’s a temptation to call any of his other films his magnum opus due to just how acclaimed and pervasive in pop culture this film is, but it got that way for a reason. It is a damn good crime story with all sorts of twists and turns and plenty of stuff for viewers to ruminate on and interpret as they please. Hell, I thought I liked Kill Bill more than it until I rewatched it, but boy does this just blow even that masterpiece out of the water.

If nothing else, the film is incredible for one simple reason: Tarantino managed to insert his foot fetish into the film without it feeling as needlessly gratuitous as it is in some later films! Bravo, Tarantino!

#Michael After Midnight #Review #movie review #Quentin Tarantino #Reservoir Dogs #Pulp Fiction #Jackie Brown #Kill Bill #Death Proof #The Hateful Eight #inglourious basterds #once upon a time... in hollywood #django unchained #action #crime #drama #exploitation #grindhouse #feet

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