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bippot · 8 days ago

Text

Talkative

Story Summary -> Mike Wheeler had no idea why Y/N was allowed to be in Hellfire. She just took up all the time he could've been using to talk about, you know, what he wanted to. Maybe she was let in because of Eddie's very obvious soft spot for her? Or maybe it's because the other members genuinely like her? Who knows, but one thing is for sure: her not talking to him drives Eddie insane.

Tags -> Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mike Wheeler is a little bitch sometimes

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Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mike had heard it before. So many times, in fact. Literally so many. Y/N had been yapping away about how excited she was for the next Hellfire session for ages - well, since the last one. He had lost count of how many times he'd had to block her out. It was just over and over again. Word after word. Nothing but endless monologues of how cool she thought the direction Eddie was taking the campaign in was.

Or she'd talk about whatever movie she'd just seen. Or something interesting she'd read in an article. It seemed as if she'd just talk about whatever was on her mind, and if the other person showed enthusiasm or interest, they'd make it a full-blown conversation. (You know how two-way interactions tend to go.) And he had been left wondering why the hell Eddie even bothered to let her into the party. She was insufferable.

Nobody else seemed to mind it. It's just that Mike seemed to be under the impression that Y/N was talking up valuable speaking time. Speaking time that he could've been using to talk about El or Will or how weird it was that Lucas couldn't hang out after school today because he had basketball practice. Or...you get the gist. Anyone else could and should be speaking about what he wanted to hear, not whatever fucking dribble Y/N was spouting.

The current 'dribble' was Y/N excitedly gushing to Dustin about the upcoming Billy Joel album that was supposed to come out sometime in July. Mike sat quietly, resting his elbows on the lunch table, flicking between half listening to Y/N and dramatically eye-rolling at Gareth, who was paying the younger boy very little attention.

Billy Joel wasn't something that the members of Corroded Coffin were interested in, but Y/N and Dustin liked him so they'd be courteous. Plus, seeing the two geek out about music was nice. Yet, as most know, Mike isn't overly courteous. For some reason, he felt the need to keep interrupting it. That need only grew with every interruption.

"Jesus, Y/N, do you ever pause for breath?" Mike asked, half laughing and half irritated. "I don't think you've taken a break in the past twenty minutes."

Y/N let out a nervous laugh and immediately apologised in a quiet voice, "Sorry, guys. How were your weekends?" as she deflected the conversation onto them now and swallowed the new sense of shame that Mike had stirred up. Immediately, Mike jumped at the chance to talk about what El had told him in one of her letters. Now this was a topic he liked. This was a worthwhile topic.

That little snide comment never would've made it out of Wheeler's mouth if Eddie had been there. He was currently preoccupied with a drug deal, so anything was free game. Munson had a tendency to let Y/N drone on and on because of that tiny (actually huge and obvious) crush he had on her. All members of Hellfire knew of their leader's infatuation with little Miss Chatterbox, well, except Y/N. It was so plain for everyone else to see. He'd listen so intently, always resting his head on his hand as he gazed at her with longing. He'd ask her endless questions about whatever, even if he had no idea what she was on about.

Any chance to get her to speak more, he took. So when he arrived midway through lunch and greeted, "Hey, Lady Folksworth," and she didn't immediately respond with 'Just Alais is fine,' he knew something was up. It was something she always said. In and out of game. Lady Folksworth, her highborn ranger, hated being called Lady Folksworth. Y/N just gave him a small wave and continued with her food, listening and encouragingly nodding every now and again, but not another sound from her was heard.

Weird. That was weird.

From that moment on, Eddie noticed how little Y/N had said for the rest of the day. Maybe she was on an off day. Tomorrow would be fine. She'd be back to normal tomorrow.

Tomorrow was a smidge louder. Y/N seemed to engage in the conversation at lunch. Then Mike rolled his eyes at something she said.

Apologetically, she asked, "Sorry, did I speak over you, Wheeler?"

"Not the first time. Don't worry, Y/N. We're used to it."

Somehow he managed to play it off as if it were a friendly jab, but they both knew he meant it. Y/N laughed it off originally. She soon decided to shut up once more.

Mike managed to do that every day that week. He'd make some offhanded comment about how talkative she was, essentially shaming her into silence and switching so he could be the one who was talking. And she let him. Why not? He was just a kid. A kid who clearly needs attention. Just give it to him, and he'll start being nice to her. Right?

Wrong. The next session was when Y/N gave up trying to reel back her natural mouthy-ness by becoming a borderline mute at lunch.

Eddie had let the party into the Hellfire room early so they could come up with a battle strategy. Y/N had been a little late and heard from the other side of the door as Mike exclaimed to the other members, "...and honestly, sometimes I wish I could cast an eternal silence on Y/N so she'd just let someone else get a word in for once and..."

She stood in the doorway, just listening in for a moment. It was technically eavesdropping, but still, she was supposed to already be in the room, and she wasn't. If anything, it was Mike's fault for talking about someone he knew was going to arrive soon. From the little window, she saw as the other boys unpacked their bags and sat down, mostly paying Mike's little ramble no attention, which was comforting.

Yet he continued, "She's probably talking the ears off some unlucky guy that has to hear her drone on and on about... about whatever it is she talks about. I don't even listen anymore. Cause, it's like, is it interesting? No. Do we care? No. Not at all. Would this party be better without her?" He paused. "Who's to say?"

Better off without her? The boys wanted the session to just be that, the boys. That's fine. She'd let them do that. It's not as if Hellfire was the best part of her week or anything. Y/N turned and walked away, making a beeline towards the car park. She didn't want to listen to any more, which also meant that she didn't hear as the other boys disagreed with what Mike said.

Dustin actually smacked Mike around the back of his head and reminded his buddy, "You're doing the exact same thing with Y/N as you did to Max. Just because El isn't here doesn't mean another girl can't be cool and interesting."

"Yeah, Y/N's cool. She bought my lunch today since Daniel Oliver stole my money," Gareth admitted, giving Mike a disapproving look.

"Oh, she did that for me last week," Jeff added. "Then she almost got her ass kicked when she tried to steal it back off Danny-boy."

Since her feet were carrying her faster than her brain could comprehend, Y/N managed to bump into someone as she hurried to her car. Eddie held his arms out to steady her, but she was in no mood to be soothed.

"Hellfire is the other way, Lady Folksworth."

She huffed out, "I know where Hellfire is; thank you very much. I'll-"

"Hey, hey, what's up?" She didn't want to talk. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be quiet, so she didn't answer him for a moment. The silence was broken as she heard him say, "Y/N, what's wrong?" with genuine concern laced in his voice.

"My grandpa just died," she blurted out, not even knowing why she said it. The words were simply leaving her mouth as she felt her lie fall flat.

He knew her better than that. "Which one? The one that's already dead or the other one that's already dead?" He countered, crossing his arms, not believing her lie in the slightest.

Shit. He'd caught her. There were two options in her mind. Go further or change course. "Well, he was like an old guy who was a family friend... you know, he was a non-grandpa," she furthered, walking away from him towards her car. "And I have a headache."

"I'm pretty sure I have an aspirin. Not my usual supply, but I'm bound to have one."

"No...no. I'm fine. Not fine enough to stay. Not that fine, but... I should go."

But there was no way in hell that was going to happen: she wasn't going to get away with these awful fibs. Without having to try too hard, he took a few long strides, making it in front of her in no time and placing his hands on her shoulders to gently push her in the opposite direction.

"Y/N."

"Eddie?"

"Tell me the truth."

Okay. It was time to change course. She used an ancient female tactic that has a tendency to get you out of doing things. Gym. Sex. Chores. All types of shit.

"I'm on my period."

It wasn't exactly a lie either. Maybe that's why Mike's words got to her so much this week? Huh, crazy.

"Ohh," he replied sympathetically, "The offer of painkillers still stands," and just like that, he was being so nice about it. "Name anything, and I'll get it for you. I'll go to the store down the street and be back in no time."

Her heart fluttered. It wasn't every day a boy was so understanding. He didn't even act grossed out by it like they usually did. He actually didn't make a big deal out of it. So, she couldn't help herself and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to give him the biggest, warmest hug she could manage. He hugged her back, closing his eyes to savour the moment.

"You're a good egg," she whispered, squeezing him a smidge. His face was bright red, but that's fine. She wouldn't be able to see it if he buried his face in her hair. "Ed, you can let go now if you want to."

"I don't want to," he chuckled, pulling her tighter to him and refusing to budge. He even started to shift his weight from left to right so they'd begin swaying slowly side to side, making her giggle, which entirely was his intention.

There was something about her giggle that just filled him with an immense sense of joy. It always turned his day around: he felt lighter, happier, and more energetic. It didn't even matter what he was doing. He couldn't understand it. One moment he was feeling listless and miserable. The next, she would start laughing, and then he'd be good and giddy. It was like magic.

Unknowingly, she had been playing with the strand of hair at the nape of his neck, and the moment she realised, she stopped and reminded him, "Hellfire is waiting for their handsome and charismatic Dungeon Master to arrive."

Oh shit. He'd forgotten about that. He'd been so focused on her, he'd forgotten to do his job. It was a serious breach of protocol. But, in this moment, he didn't care. Leaning back so he could see in her face if she lied, he shyly enquired, "You think I'm handsome?"

"Yeah, Ed, I do," she answered seriously, without even the smallest hint of a smirk. It was like she really meant it, and, boy, was he relieved. She really did think he was handsome.

Well shit, his fucking face was heating up again. How the hell did she have this kind of effect on him? And he'd never have guessed that it would've gotten worse as he complimented her back, "Oh, cool. Yeah, that's nice. You're, uh, you're handsome too - I mean pretty. Girls are pretty. I know you're not supposed to call a girl handsome. You're really pretty, Y/N."

Really. Not only was she both handsome and pretty, but she was also 'really pretty'. That last part made him wince a little as he admitted it, but it was worth it for the look on her face. It was the happiest he'd seen her in a while, which made his own face even brighter. It almost made her forget about what Mike had said.

Almost.

She looked away, her lips upturned in a coy grin, but didn't internalise what he'd said. That could wait till later. That could wait until she was in the privacy of her car so she could let out a really unflattering squeal. The urge to do so was increasing every second that she was still in his grasp, so she slowly backed up, innocently letting her hands trail down his shoulders and chest as she moved away.

Bashfully, she tucked some hair behind her ear as she let out, "You can call me handsome if you want to. I don't mind it. Honestly, I was going to say that your hair looked pretty when I saw you this morning, but I didn't want to, I don't know, freak you out or anything."

"You were worried about freaking out the freak?"

"Something like that." She looked down at her shoes for a moment. "Anyway, I better go. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, uh... yeah, see you, Y/N."

He watched as she started to walk away, only to turn around and hurry back, claiming, "Oh, I forgot to do this," and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for being so sweet."

Blushing, he nervously beamed, "Yeah, oh, yeah, you're welcome. Totally welcome," and couldn't help but distract himself from the fact that his cheek felt like it was burning and his head was spinning over the mere contact of her lips on his skin by focusing on her figure as she made it out of his field of vision and towards the parking lot.

Okay. Okay, he needed to calm down before he arrived in Hellfire. The boys would surely tease him if he turned up looking like a freshly picked tomato. It's always a good idea to make an entrance, and that definitely would throw them off long enough that he could return his focus to his second true love, D&D. Opening the door wide and announcing, "My dear boys, we may be one maiden down, and while Alais's absence will render the dynamic a little askew, she will be sorely missed until the next session, but we must press on. So, boys, it's time."

Eddie immediately sauntered to his chair and waited for his disciples to prepare themselves. He always tried to make his entrances as elaborate as possible. The more attention to where he wanted it to be directed, the better.

Dustin piped up to ask, "Wait, Y/N's not here? I swear she said she was coming earlier."

"She felt ill."

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Eddie swore he heard Mike whisper to himself, "Thank God."

"Anyway, we must press on, gentlemen, without interruption," Eddie said, putting a finger to his lips to still Mike's rising protests.

Despite being one member down, the boys got on with it. Although they could all tell that the party was a little disjointed without their beloved Lady Folksworth. It wasn't that she was the most experienced member, though she might have been the most enthusiastic, but she was the one who kept them on their toes. It wasn't everyday that the Archduke Zariel of Avernus visited the mortal realm. There wasn't a whole lot to prepare for, but somehow, when Y/N was around, it felt like there were a million things to do.

Ultimately, it was a difficult battle (that may have been a slight bit easier if had seven PC's like Eddie had planned), but the boys (Dustin) managed to come up with an ingenious plan to kill the fallen angel and prevent her from returning for now.

The next day, when Gareth and Jeff had walked up to Eddie while he was at his locker, the older boy remarked, "Hellfire last night was quieter, don't you think? It wasn't as high energy as usual."

"That's because Alais was missing," Gareth pointed out, knowing full well that Eddie had been missing Y/N's presence. Even in the session, he seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit concerned if she was okay.

He'd even planned to buy a bunch of stuff she liked and show up unannounced at her house to be like, "Hey! I know I'm a gross, stinky boy and I don't get this period thing, but I hope this helps," but what if her dad were there and just assumed Eddie was making moves on his daughter? Which wouldn't have been completely incorrect. Yet, this was a move out of worry, not lust.

Plus, as soon as the other boys heard, he'd never get away from the teasing. Showing up to Y/N's house with a period care package? That would prove he was totally whipped. Totally. They weren't even dating, and he was completely and utterly wrapped around her finger.

Jeff decided to tease, "I'm sure Eddie was fully aware that Y/N wasn't there to play footsie under the table with him."

"I don't know what you're implying, Jeffrey," Eddie responded dryly. He one hundred percent knew what was being implied. That girl was his favourite thing in the world, and he would have done anything to be with her.

"Well, I'm sure we won't catch you gazing so lovingly at her at lunch again," Gareth said, resting his head on his fist and staring wistfully into the distance as he did his best impression of Eddie.

"Why, fair Y/N, why won't you accept my love? Is it the hair? Should I change it?" Jeff said in an exaggerated, disappointed voice.

Eddie was used to this at this point. He just usually just went along with it, but today he had an update. "I highly doubt it's the hair; she told me she thinks it looks pretty."

"Oooh, did you hear that, Jeff? She said his hair looks pretty."

"I wonder how long we'll be hearing about that one for."

"Remember when she said she liked the shirt he was wearing and he didn't take it off for almost a week?"

Gareth and Jeff burst out laughing. Eddie shrugged it off and turned the conversation back onto Hellfire. What he didn't realise was that Y/N was just about to walk up to him as he declared, "Even though she has a charisma mod of minus two, Alais is a complete chatterbox. That's probably why we could hear ourselves think last night," but she walked away, not wanting to hear if he pulled a Mike.

Mike getting annoyed at her voice was fine. It hurt a little, but she'd get over it. Eddie, on the other hand, that stung. He usually was nice and kind and pretty and sweet and chivalrous and totally cool and out of her league and was great at guitar and had the cutest eyes she'd ever seen, so the thought that she could be annoying him caused her to double down on the quietness thing.

Frankly, if Eddie had said anything actually mean, she would probably start crying and never stop. He was the sweetest guy she knew, and sometimes she felt that there was something going on between them when he would look at her for a second too long, or the amount of times he would force her into hugging him, and they would stay like that for what felt like an eternity, just as he'd done the night before.

Or, if she'd ask for advantage when they were playing, she'd say, "Eddie, if you wanted to be a good, no, a great Dungeon Master, you'd give me advantage right now," in the softest voice she could, and he'd give her that look of 'you know this isn't one of your characters abilities' but would say yes anyway.

As a result, Y/N kept mostly to herself that day. In any of the classes she had with her friends, she said hello and then made it seem like she was intensely interested in whatever the teacher was saying, which wasn't true. Eddie couldn't help but notice how she didn't even say anything other than "Hey" to him the entire day.

Tomorrow came and it was the same. And the day after that. And after that. And then the whole week. He had no idea how long periods lasted, but this was hell. Two weeks went by, and she barely said a word to him.

Actually, he was kind of offended.

It's not like he was planning on asking her to the movies, which they'd done so many times before, but he was going to make it obvious that there was going to be nothing platonic about this invitation. Well, that's what he thought last time they went, yet he didn't manage to follow through.

The moment they had before Hellfire had given him enough of an idea that she could like him. It was a possibility. She'd fucking kissed him, after all. Although it was on the cheek and she could've just been overly friendly and emotional because of, you know, the monthly blood monster. But maybe she liked him? That was a definite possibility.

Now she was ignoring him. You don't ignore somebody you're into. Or do you? Was she playing the hard-to-get move? No. Y/N wouldn't pull that. Would she?

Maybe she knew he liked her and didn't want to upset him when he found out she was going after someone else. That was his exact thought when he 'bumped' into her on the weekend at Family Video and saw her joyfully talking to Steve like she used to with him. She'd looked so happy then, so carefree, as she gestured wildly as she spoke about the movie Clue.

Apparently, Harrington hadn't seen it, so Y/N was giving him a rundown about the Tim Curry flick, telling him all about how Eddie had taken her to go and see it in the cinema the year before. Her laugh was music to his ears, even if it wasn't caused by him.

Very animatedly, she waved the VHS around as she explained, "Yeah, we went back three times because they're were different endings depending on what screening you went to. It was really cool. Each ending had a different killer or killers, I guess because there tended to be multiple, which is kind of genius." Then she put the video down as she almost threw it, which would've been funny, but she'd have to pay for it if it broke.

"Wait, so it's based on the board game?" Steve enquired, resting his hand under his chin as he gazed up at her. "The whole Miss Scarlet in the dining room with the rusty spoon or whatever game?"

Rusty spoon. That definitely should be one of the weapons.

Y/N giggled, confirming, "Yeah, that's the one. In the movie, Miss Scarlet is, well, she's basically a pimp."

"Now I have to see this movie." He leant forward and tried to flirt, "Do you want to..."

No way. Was Harrington flirting with Y/N? That was not happening. Not on Eddie's watch. Sliding in next to her, Eddie wrapped his arm around Y/N's shoulders and squeezed lightly, cheerfully interrupting Steve and greeting, "Funny seeing you here, Lady Folksworth."

Steve immediately stood up straighter, thinking he'd accidentally tried it on with a 'taken' girl. That wasn't his intention. Still....?

"Munson, how are you? How's high school treating you still?"

"It's going swell, Harrington," Eddie retorted, biting back the tone that he wanted to use.

"Think you're going to graduate this year?"

"They do say the third time's a charm."

Staring between the two, Y/N didn't really know what to do or say. She was lost, unsure of how to react to this situation. It was so awkward. She waited for a break in their exchange before lying, "My dad is probably waiting for me in the car. I'll see you two later," and unhooking herself from Eddie's arm. As soon as she was free, she gave them both a wave and began to leave.

Eddie called after her, "You forgot something."

Oh. Was he referring to what she'd forgotten before? He must've, so she made her way back to him and kissed his cheek, expecting that that was the thing he was talking about. Nope. In his hand was the VHS of Clue that she'd left on the counter. He handed it to her with a smug grin.

"Hey, do I get one of those?" Steve joked, earning a swift punch in the arm from Eddie.

"Bye, Steve. Bye, Eddie."

And she was off.

"Why did you get a kiss and I didn't?"

"Why did she say goodbye to you first?"

Actually, what the fuck had he done? He could've sworn he saw her car and not her dad's in the parking lot as he entered. Then again, he hadn't looked hard enough to be sure. Eddie was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to upset her. What if he had? Oh shit, that would suck. That would actually be the worst. The worst of the worst would be if he'd actually upset her and she didn't want to talk to him anymore. If that happened, he would be so royally screwed.

But, no. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them.

Steve still asked, "Have you guys fallen out?"

"Me and Y/N? No. I don't think so."

"Are you sure? She left in a hurry as soon as you showed up."

Oh, he thought that too. Fuck, Eddie wished that Steve hadn't pointed it out because now it was out in the open. The words had been said out loud. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Are you two... together?"

They weren't, but, "Why do you want to know that?" It was obvious why Steve wanted to know. Eddie's reaction made it clear enough what his true feelings were since he stared at Steve blankly for a few moments before awkwardly shrugging and nervously scratching the back of his neck. The moment he put it together, he whined, "Dude, no."

"What? I haven't even done anything."

"Yet. You haven't done anything yet. Literally any other girl, ask any other girl. Please. I'm begging you. Don't."

God, he felt like such a fucking pussy. He was literally begging Steve Harrington not to ask out the girl he likes. That was how low he was willing to stoop for Y/N.

"But..."

"Just don't."

Harrington hesitated and then said, "Fine." After a moment of silence passed between them, Steve asked, "What are you doing here anyway?"

Robin butted in with "Y/N always comes in at lunch time on a Saturday, and he knows that," and bumped Steve out of the way so she could serve a customer that had been waiting, having been completely ignored by the two boys. "Harrington, are you even going to attempt to do some work?"

With that, Eddie tapped the counter in thought for a moment, his mind swimming with all the possibilities of why Y/N was acting in such a way. She'd claimed it was because of period pain, and not that he knew much about that, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was something else. She'd been almost mute for two weeks now. Did periods last that long?

Then he said something that he'd never ever expected to come out of his mouth. "Right. I'm off to the library." That wasn't it. He went to the library often because books are fucking expensive. The surprise came when he followed that up with "I've got some biology homework to do."

So that's what he did. He went past the fantasy section, his heart panging as he did so, and straight to the non-fiction area, finding one that was named 'The Female Species' in no time. When he opened it, his eyes immediately went to the illustrations. Yep. That was a pussy. Fucking hell, the things he'd do for Y/N. She better appreciate his research.

At the end of their shift, Eddie re-entered Family Video and went straight up to Robin. "I read in a book that periods usually last five days; is it normal for the girl to be really reserved at that time? The book was very factual about organs and tubes and shit, but didn't have anything about behaviour."

Steve heard and beelined for the back office. Robin blinked at him, her eyes wide, and obviously she was just confused why she was being bombarded with girl talk. So, Eddie continued, "Y/N hasn't been herself lately, you know. I think something's up."

"Just ask her."

"She's avoiding me like that time that I didn't shower for a week and she didn't want to be rude." Robin looked absolutely disgusted, as she should. "Don't look at me like that. Our plumbing broke."

"Alright, alright." She placed all of the cashing-up stuff down on the counter and called for Steve to do it. He wasn't as quick as her (she's got some mad quick addition skills, I know it), but it would have to do for today. "I will ask on Monday."

"What about tomorrow?"

Standing her ground, Robin repeated, "No. I will ask on Monday."

Eddie continued to whine for five minutes straight, hoping that if he threw a tantrum, Robin would give in and, maybe, even immediately go to Y/N's house and find out as soon as she possibly could. But no, Robin was tired and had barely sat down her entire shift. Plus, she had to work tomorrow too, so Monday was the best and only option that she was willing to do.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.

At lunch that day, Robin decided to ask Y/N to sit with her instead of with the Hellfire lot, which was a little weird at first, but she quickly grew comfortable with it. Y/N seemed as talkative as ever as she interacted with Robin and the other members of the marching band. What the hell was Eddie talking about?

From his position at his lunch table, Eddie watched with eagle eyes at the band table to see if there was any possibility of Y/N changing her mind and going back to the Hellfire camp. He caught Robin's gaze, and she just shrugged as if to say, 'You're overreacting.' Was he? Was he just reading into it too deeply? Nope. No way. He knew her better than that. He knew her better than Robin did. He was sure of it.

They shared the same fifth period lesson, and the moment she went to hurry to the next class, he easily lifted her off the ground and made his way to the janitor's closet with her squirming in his arms. They got a few weird looks from the other students, but mostly they were too busy with their own schedules to give too much of a shit.

"Put me down! Edward Anthony Munson, fucking put me down!" She exclaimed, slapping his arm in the hopes he'd stop manhandling her. He did once they were inside. He also made sure that he stood directly in front of the door so she wouldn't be able to leave.

Well, he intended to stay posted up by the door like a German Shepherd, but he quickly noticed that the janitor had a Santana poster and moved to take a closer look with a "Sick. He's got a Shango album poster. You know, it's not my usual type of music, but my uncle loves it," so she took the opportunity to try to weave past him.

Still, she had no chance. He quickly whipped his arm out and managed to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him.

"Hey!" She protested. Looking up at him, her anger faded as she saw his face, but she still tried to be stern as she asked, "What are you doing?"

It was moments like this that Y/N became fully aware of how much taller than her he was. She was used to it, but it still kind of threw her. If he'd been any other man, she would've been intimidated, but with him, she just found herself drawn to his beauty.

"Eddie, what the hell?" She asked, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. Damn, he loved the way she looked when she was blushing. It made her eyes go all soft and dreamy. He didn't answer. He just looked at her beautiful face, and his heart melted into a puddle of mush behind his sternum. He was staring at her lips so hard that he was barely able to muster up a response.

But he did. Eventually. Eventually, he blurted out, "Do you not like hanging out with me anymore?" His voice came out quiet and unsure, almost as if it took all of his courage to get the words out - that's because it had. It somehow got even quieter as he said, "Do you not like me anymore, Y/N?"

The soft, pretty pink on her cheeks deepened and her eyes shone like diamonds. All traces of uncertainty were gone, and in its place was shock. She studied his face for a moment, looking for any kind of signs of joking or teasing in his eyes. When she couldn't find anything, she sighed and said, "Of course I like you. What made you think that... that I didn't?"

"Wha- what? Uh, the fact that you haven't said more than two sentences to me all week." He couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He didn't know what had come over him. One minute he was fine, and then the next - boom! Out came the sass. He'd never been good at holding in his feelings, especially when he was really into someone.

Not even giving her time to explain, he proclaimed, "And don't give me that crap about being on your period because I read up about that shit and it sounds fucking awful, I will admit, but it doesn't last two fucking weeks, Y/N. You're killing me here, sweetheart."

She couldn't help it. At his words, she let out a boisterous laugh that made his heart skip a beat. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in forever, and it just felt so goddamn good. Cackling, she said, "You read up on periods?"

"I was worried about you, and I don't exactly have a mother to ask about it. Uncle Wayne would've never let me live it down if I asked him."

Lightly, she dropped her forehead to rest on his chest as she tittered. His heart was about to burst out of his chest and into the open air. She lifted her head up off of his chest and looked him dead in the eyes, smiling as she claimed, "You're very sweet, Eds."

Sweet? She called him sweet? Everything in his body felt like it had turned to jelly. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from kissing the hell out of her. She still hadn't told him the actual reason, so he continued on his path of questioning. Putting on his best 'I'm a tough negotiator' face, he declared, "I'm serious, though. What the fuck is going on with you?"

"Is that face supposed to intimidate me into telling you what's wrong?"

Whoops. She gave it away.

"So there is something wrong!" He dramatically took his hands off her and flailed them in the air. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Robin can fucking suck it."

Like usual, she found his little tantrums humorous, and she just gazed at him with a grin on her face as he continued to wave his arms in the air, swearing his fuzzy head off. It was like he was an overgrown toddler, trying his best to get a reaction out of her, and his efforts were successful as she laughed at him. How are you supposed to not laugh at a fully grown man hysterically jumping around in a confined space, accidently knocking over a mop on his warpath? He stopped for a moment, put it back in its place, then started whining again.

"Why won't you talk to me? This is bullshit. I've only had Dustin to annoy this entire week, which is fun, but I'd prefer to annoy you. I even stooped low enough to try and fuck with Wheeler."

"No, not Mike. How did you survive?"

Slowly, he got closer to her with a smug smile on his face, his eyes narrowing as he raised his hand to accusingly point at her as he began to facetiously complain, "You're laughing at my concern! Honestly, Y/N, I don't know why I do it. I had to look the librarian in the eyes and say, 'Hi, where's the section about pussies? Yeah, my friend has one, and I want to know why its making her act all stupid and shit. Oh, and where's the erotica while we're at it? Might as well add that to my collection too. That will give me something to do while I wait for her to even breathe in my direction!' Well, actually, no, I didn't say that, but I could've. I could've done that. I would've done that."

Swallowing down all her anticipation and nerves, she teased, "Aw, you would've checked out erotica for me?"

"Shut up," he joked, then immediately backtracked, "No, don't shut up. That's the whole thing. Don't shut - you know what? Fuck it, I'm just going to -"

Instead of continuing to ramble, he didn't know what came over him, but he knew it wasn't rational. Maybe it had something to do with the way her lips looked so full and soft. His hand grabbed her by the waist and yanked her forward, pressing their lips together with a hunger he couldn't explain. He didn't remember moving, or if he had, he forgot. One moment he was speaking, and the next, well, the next, all of his senses were focused on her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, which caused him to smile against her mouth. He couldn't help himself; he couldn't stop smiling at the perfection of it all. Her body was pressed up against his; she was pressed into his chest. All he wanted to do was kiss her for hours. Her lips felt so soft, so sweet, and he couldn't stop touching them and tasting them. Every single part of his body was in tune with hers, and it was an amazing feeling.

There was a break in the kiss as he pulled back slightly to look at her, his hands resting on her hips as he tried to apologise, "Tell me whatever I did wrong and I'll make it up to you. I'll do what -"

"I'm not paid enough to care about this shit."

The pair broke apart, and their heads whipped to look at the newcomer. It was silent for a while as they just stared at the janitor in the hopes that he might magically vanish. "Get out," the janitor said. "Get out before I make sure you two end up in detention."

Detention was not on the cards as Y/N grabbed Eddie's hand and dragged him into the corridor as he still seemed a little dazed. Addressing the janitor, he complimented, "Cool Carlos Santana poster, by the way. That's actually what we went in there to see. Crazy. We heard about it through the grapevine, you know," so she pulled him away before he could say anything else.

"I swear to God, that was so fucking awkward," Y/N laughed, trying to suppress her giggles.

The moment they made it around the first corner they saw, he scanned if any teachers were around and then began to kiss her cheek, gradually making his way down from her cheekbone to her neck, manoeuvring her so her back was against the cold wall and his front was against hers. He nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling her scent and absorbing it through his skin.

Teasingly, he reared back and came to a compromise: "If you tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours, I won't leave the biggest hickey I possibly can on your neck. Just imagine how long you'll be grounded for when your parents see that."

"You're not serious."

"Watch me." He lowered his head once again, his lips finding her skin just above her collarbone, before she tugged on his hair to pull him back up. "Start talking."

Taking a breath, she finally explained, "So, I'm trying this thing where I let other people get a word in. We all know that I have a habit of talking a bit too much, and you're probably sick of my voice at thi-"

"What the fuck are you on about?"

His blunt statement made her jump.

She was just about to speak again when a junior, who obviously had a hall pass to use the bathroom, gave them a funny look and walked by without saying a word. Jokingly, she pointed out, "Why did we choose to do this in a public corridor?"

"And she begins avoiding my question once again," he taunted, moving his mouth under her jaw to plant a kiss there. He grinned, smug, and self-assured, and Y/N felt a swell of pride at his confidence. She considered her answer for a few moments, and in that time, his hand slipped from her hip to her lower back, sliding beneath her t-shirt to graze over her bare skin. She loved the way he was so comfortable in their little game.

"Stop," she laughed, but he kept his lips there, pressing against her neck and making her shiver. "Somebody mentioned that I'm a bit of a motormouth, so I decided to reel it back, okay?"

He craned his head back in surprise. "Who?"

"I'm no snitch, Munson."

"Uh, I'd like to know who fucked with my girl. I'm planning on kicking their ass."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she coquetted, "Your girl? Is that what I am now?" And to be super effective, she softly brushed some of his hair behind his ear.

There was no mistaking the pleased grin that curved his lips. He gave her the goofiest, most lovestruck grin possible, declaring that, "Oh yeah, didn't you hear? You have been for a while. Did I forget to mention it?"

"You may have forgotten, yeah. Maybe you did, and I was too busy chatting to notice," she joked, and he chuckled. Her hand moved to his chest, and she felt his heart pound against her palm, his breath quicken, and his body tense. Her smile faltered for a moment as she apologised, "I'm sorry for practically ignoring you for a while."

At her words, his answer was low and sincere. "Yeah, it sucked." He tilted her chin up as she'd moved her focus away from his face, suggesting, "You could always make it up to me by hanging out with me after school and rambling to me about every single thought that pops into your head."

"Eddie, I'm sure you don't really want -"

"You don't get to tell me what I want," he said, and the serious expression returned to his face. He shook his head and kissed her again, this time briefly but with a lot of affection. It was an answer in itself. Against her lips, he mumbled, "Your voice is my favourite sound in the world; don't deprive me of it again or I'll probably go insane."

That made her do the most girlish giggle he’d ever heard.

"Just so you know," he said, "you could read anything to me and I'd be enthralled. You could read the fucking Bible to me, and I'd convert in no time."

Despite the casualness of his statement, it made her realise how truly into her he was and how much he thought she was worth listening to. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was the only girl in the world, the way he thought she was so special. He didn't see her as just another member of Hellfire; he saw her as his girl.

Putting his favourite things together, she offered, "Why don't you come over; we'll smoke, and I'll read The Hobbit to you? My parents are out, so it's up to you."

He'd never heard something so perfect for him in his life. The smile that stretched across his face was absolutely, unarguably perfect. She waited until he'd composed himself before she copied his actions from before and kissed from his cheekbone down, which caused him to shiver slightly and unconsciously put his hand on the back of her head.

Trying to play it cool despite how his body was reacting, he retorted, "What about your cat? Is she in?"

"You'll have to come over to find out."

So he did. He was practically vibrating with anticipation as he pulled his van onto her driveway and didn't even wait for her to get her keys in the front door before he hurried up behind her, grabbing onto her waist and tugging her against him so he could kiss the back of her neck.

The moment she opened the door and pulled him inside, he noticed her cat and beelined towards her. "Hey, stinky," he said, holding the cat in his hands. He looked at Y/N and back to the cat. The theory that all pets look like their owners seemed to be correct, as Y/N's kitten was as cute as she was.

"Don't call my baby stinky," Y/N playfully warned, stroking the cat and leaning down to bump their noses together, causing the cat to lovingly nip at the tip of her nose.

"I can't help it," Eddie replied, holding the cat by the armpits and holding her above his head, wiggling her from side to side, falsely insulting, "Liquorice is just such a gross, ugly cat."

Faking offence, Y/N grabbed the kitten from his hands and cradled it as she began walking to her bedroom, cooing, "Don't listen to the rip-off Van Halen-looking boy, baby. He failed ninth grade English too many times for his opinion to be valid."

Eddie, of course, was hot on her heels as he followed her. "I'm not a boy; I'm a man."

"Whatever you say."

When they made it up to her room, Eddie immediately made himself at home, kicking his shoes off and jumping face first onto her bed. Y/N rolled her eyes and dropped the cat onto her pillow before sitting on the bed to beam as Eddie turned on to his side and pouted, urging her to "Kiss me?"

How could she not? She obliged, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. His reaction was immediate. He eagerly responded to her kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, tongue eagerly exploring hers. Y/N was the first to pull back as she felt Liquorice pawing at her arm.

"Oh, sorry, you jealous thing," she joked, giving the cat an equal amount of attention by scratching her belly. She instructed Eddie, "Take over while I find the book."

Liquorice had always liked Eddie, which was weird as she rarely liked anyone. Especially men. But it was as if she saw how kind he was and just went with it when he started to gently run his hands through her fur, purring as he did so.

Reading aloud, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat..."

Y/N had found the book and made her way back to her bed, leaning against the headboard as Eddie manoeuvred to sit between her legs, bringing Liquorice to sit in his lap. Together they both said, "It was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort."

Of course he knew that bit off by heart.

Slithering her arms around him, she placed her chin on his shoulder, occasionally giving him a peck on the cheek between paragraphs as she continued reading. He leant back, listening intently as he lit his spliff, taking a few drags before placing it between her lips and dreamily gazing at her as she let the smoke out of her nose like a sexy dragon. A sexy Smaug.

Never had he felt so comfortable. In a relationship or just in general. No matter how many people he'd been with before, there'd never been a moment when he'd ever truly felt like this.

Almost the second before she finished the final paragraph of the first chapter, Liquorice was spooked by a sound from outside and decided that she didn't want any more attention. Y/N called after her, "Do not start a fight with the dog next door," and all the cat seemed to do was narrow her eyes and saunter out of the room.

Finishing the last bit, Y/N declared, "Bilbo went to sleep with that in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams. It was long after the break of day when he woke up."

Now that he no longer had a cat on his lap to worry about, Eddie took the book from her hands and set it on her bedside table, turning around to face her as he flirted, "Honestly, whoever told you to shut up must not have taste because I've read that so many times and it never sounded that good before."

The compliment was not lost on her as Y/N giggled, "I swore you fell asleep halfway."

"I was resting my eyes." He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, only to pull back, looking into her eyes. "You're seriously not going to tell me who?"

"Nope."

Fine. That'll do. He let out a huff, but it was quickly forgotten as she placed her hand on the side of his face, gently ghosting her thumb over his skin as she pressed her lips against his. And that's how they spent most of the evening. Just smooching with the occasional playful bout of taunting.

Over time, it wasn't rare for Eddie to spend all of his free time in the warm comfort of Y/N's bedroom. He lay on his side, leaning over her slightly as she used their intertwined hands to gesture, soaking in all of his focus.

It wasn't long before Eddie pieced together who had made her feel that way. Mike had made some offhanded insult about how long she had been talking, and Y/N looked at Eddie like 'this fucking guy, amiright?', accidently giving it away.

Then Hellfire came, and Mike was very surprised when his PC died only thirty minutes into the session.

Strangely, it seemed as if the DM was personally targeting him.

Who knows why?

*Click here for my masterlist*

Wanna be added to a taglist? Either comment on this post or send me a message!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things

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magical-reid · 1 month ago

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The Unexpected Connection

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: When Miss Popular offers to help Eddie Munson with chemistry, an unlikely connection forms between them as they bond over shared interests. The relationship deepens when she surprises Eddie and his friends with homemade cookies during a D&D campaign, leaving everyone shocked by her unexpected presence in Eddie's world.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above the cafeteria, casting their harsh glow over the crowded tables. You sat at your usual spot, surrounded by your group of friends. They were all in their usual cheerful chatter, gossiping about the latest trends and upcoming weekend plans. Your life had always been filled with sparkles and smiles, but there was something a little different today—a subtle unease you couldn’t quite place. That unease was Eddie Munson.

Eddie, the resident metalhead and Dungeon Master of Hawkins High's Dungeons & Dragons campaign. He was a mystery—a wild card who didn’t care about fitting in with the popular crowd. You, on the other hand, were the center of attention. Perfect hair, colorful outfits, and always with a group of friends at your side. You'd never crossed paths with him before, at least not in any meaningful way, but you had seen him around. He was hard to miss, with his long hair, denim vest, and that ever-present air of defiance.

But that didn’t stop your curiosity. The rumors about him were relentless—everyone in school had something to say about Eddie. Most of it wasn’t flattering. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what the real Eddie Munson was like, behind the leather jacket and the weird rumors.

And that was the exact moment you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned to see him standing there, looking unusually hesitant for someone who was oftenly seen as confident and untouchable. His usual cocky grin was replaced with an uncertain smile.

"Uh, hey," Eddie muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "You got a second?"

You blinked in surprise. “Sure. What’s up?”

He shuffled his feet, looking awkward. “I was wondering… if you could help me with something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Help you? With what?"

“Chemistry,” Eddie said, his voice low as if he was embarrassed to ask. "I mean, I know it’s not the most hardcore subject, but I could use some help. I’m not exactly a whiz with numbers and reactions, y’know?”

You were taken aback. Eddie Munson, the guy who had a reputation for being a rebel and a troublemaker, asking for help in chemistry? It didn’t make sense. But your heart softened at the fact that he was even admitting it. It wasn’t easy for someone like him to ask for help.

“Okay,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I can help. Meet me after school at the library, alright?”

Eddie seemed genuinely surprised. “Wait, you’re actually willing to help me?”

You shrugged casually. “Why not? I don’t bite. And chemistry’s no big deal, really. Besides, I’m guessing it’s better than whatever you’ve been doing in class, right?”

He chuckled, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Alright, deal. See you then.”

You waved as you grabbed your things to leave, but before you could head off, Eddie called out.

“Hey, uh… you’re not like everyone says you are, y’know?”

You turned around to face him, smiling softly. “I guess not. You’re not what I expected either.”

His smile faltered, but you could see the hint of warmth in his eyes as you walked away.

The library was quiet as usual, and you found a secluded corner to set up your chemistry notes. You didn’t know what to expect when Eddie showed up, but when he did, you were surprised at how… out of place he looked. His black leather jacket clashed with the neatly organized bookshelves around you, and he scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie said, settling across from you.

You smiled at him. “It’s not a big deal. Just think of it as another kind of campaign—only with chemicals instead of dice.”

Eddie snorted. “You think I can roll a natural 20 on this subject?”

“Not unless you roll a lot of patience,” you teased, tapping your pen against the notebook.

As you explained the basics of chemical reactions and bonds, you found yourself watching Eddie more than you realized. His intense focus, the way his fingers drummed on the table when he was deep in thought, the furrow in his brow as he jotted down notes—it was strangely endearing. He wasn’t like the other guys in your class. There was something more to him, and you were starting to see it.

“You’re really good at this,” Eddie said after a while, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “I thought I was gonna fail for sure, but now I think I’m actually getting it.”

You smiled at the compliment. “You’re not as bad at this as you thought. You’ve got potential, Munson.”

He grinned, but there was a slight vulnerability in his smile that you hadn't expected. “Thanks. You’re alright, you know that?”

The conversation turned to lighter topics, and before you knew it, you were laughing together—completely different from the icy encounters you’d imagined with him in the past. The chemistry lesson had turned into something else entirely. Something more... comfortable.

The weekend rolled around, and you knew that you had a D&D campaign with Eddie and the guys at the usual hangout. You hadn’t been invited to play, of course. That was Eddie’s thing. But you knew this would be your chance to do something a little unexpected.

You had made cookies—soft, chewy chocolate chip cookies—and you had a plan. You'd show up at the campaign and surprise Eddie. You weren’t entirely sure how it would go, but you thought maybe it would break the ice.

You arrived at the trailer park just as the sun began to set, your basket of cookies tucked under your arm. You knocked on the door of Eddie’s trailer, and when he answered, his eyes widened.

“You—uh, what are you doing here?” Eddie stammered, clearly surprised to see you standing in front of him with a batch of homemade cookies.

“I brought cookies,” you said with a smile. “I thought you and the guys could use a snack while you roll some dice.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Wait, seriously? You actually came here... with cookies?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully, stepping inside. “I figured it might be nice. I’ve never actually watched a campaign.”

The guys in the room—Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will—looked at you in shock. You could see their eyes widen in disbelief. They were all accustomed to you being there, but never in Eddie’s world. You were the popular, girly girl who didn’t belong at a metalhead’s D&D table.

“What’s this? We’re getting snacks now?” Dustin asked, blinking.

“Did she just bring cookies?” Mike added, eyes flicking from you to Eddie in confusion.

Eddie, still a little taken aback, blinked before shaking his head. “I, uh, I didn’t expect this. But, hey… you guys are gonna love these.” He took one of the cookies and bit into it. “Damn, these are amazing.”

You smirked. “Glad you like them. I figured the Demon Lord’s army could use a little sugar boost.”

The boys exchanged glances, and even Eddie’s usual cool demeanor melted a little as he let himself enjoy the cookies. For the first time, it felt like you were actually part of something. Part of Eddie’s world. And it was nice. Really nice.

You stayed for the rest of the campaign, sitting beside Eddie, chatting between rolls. It wasn’t the most glamorous, and you didn’t know all the rules, but it felt like you were finally seeing Eddie in his element. And you couldn’t help but smile.

#magical-reid #self insert #reader insert #fluff #Eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson reader insert #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 months ago

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Nothing You Could Do, Part 1

Summary: You were just a sassy bartender minding your business, and then he showed up. America's prince, soon to be king, or in other word's future President of the United States of America. Things kicked off way too fast. You just want to be your normal self. But Steve Rogers needs you. Can you navigate being a self sufficient woman in DC, and the woman on his arm?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, PIV sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), squirting, rough, degradation, dumbification, spitting, stuffing things in reader's mouth, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.3K

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Steve leafs through a few more papers before laying them down on his desk. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, massaging the ache that he’s had there for over an hour. Things are becoming a reality. He is a candidate for president of the United States of America. Something he’s wanted his entire life. And yet, something still feels off.

Be a good man. That’s what his mother repeated to him everyday growing up. She didn’t care where he landed in life, she just wanted to make sure he was a good man. He thinks for the most part he’s accomplished that. Some, only Gail, would say that he didn’t find someone to share it with. But in all fairness, he’s never truly looked. Someone would come along if they were meant to share a life with him.

But who would want to share a life with him now? Now that he is starting to campaign for president. This isn’t an easy life. It’s nonstop. It would need to be someone willing to give up so much of themselves, and their life, and he’s not ready for that. Nor should it be what he’s worried about right now.

Right now he wants to sign a few more things, and head out. His one night a week that he asks for. This may be the last one, not if he has it his way. He gives up so much of his time, and that’s okay, but he still needs those couple of hours to just drink some beer at the bar. Pretend he isn’t who he is. Deny it if he’s asked.

“Boss?” Steve politely rolls his eyes while looking down before he greets the means well, but still annoying personal assistant Peter. “Um, you told me to tell you when it was six o’clock, sir, Mr. President, Rogers, sir.”

“Steve is just fine,” he reminds him again. Steve scribbles out his signature before stacking the papers in a neat pile, and tucking them into an envelope. “Can you make sure that Natasha gets these?” He asks, standing up to grab his coat.

Peter clears his throat, and then straightens up quickly, “Gail said that you don’t need to go out tonight.”

“Gail needs to mind her business.”

“She’s worried about security, sir,” Peter grabs the coat from Steve, and holds it up. Helping him get in, while Steve is trying to not be frustrated.

“Bucky will be with me,” Peter clears his throat, and shakes his head no. “Bucky will be late?”

“She thinks that Mr. Barnes gets distracted while it’s just the two of you,” there is no one that has ever looked after Steve quite like Bucky.

“Does she propose I take Sam with me?”

“The future vice president at a bar with the president?” Peter cringes. Steve could almost get away with it on his own. He just doesn’t shave before going out. Shaving was for the television. Who knew a beard could make all the difference in one’s appearance.

“Look, kid, Bucky can handle this. Even with a distraction there is no one I trust more than him to keep me safe. Now if you would excuse me I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll have Bucky text you the coordinates for the bar tonight. By the way, he went there earlier this week, and cleared it. You’re welcome,” Steve walks out, leaving Peter’s breathing to increase.

His job isn’t to make sure that Steve listens to everything Gail suggests, no. Peter’s job was to assist Steve. If Gail would let him do his job, he would be quite excellent. Less annoying because all he wanted was to please Steve, but feels an obligation to please Gail. A stickler for doing things by the book.

He walks out of his office, and directly into the parking lot where Bucky is waiting with a car. The one person that is bound and determined to make sure that Steve remains Steve, and not Mr. Rogers or just Mr. President. Bucky keeps Steve humble and grounded. And he’s not above reminding Steve of his tiny and sickly self. It’s what makes the world go round.

“Slade!” Your head turns to the door, where your boss screams a name that is definitely not yours, but fake names in this city are always a good idea. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Smoking,” you smile, bringing the stick to your mouth for a quick pull, and he jerks it out of your hand, “Hey! That was my cigarette!”

“That was a stick,” you know it was only a stick, you weren't a moron. “Why are you out here pretending to smoke a stick?”

“Because Anna comes out here to puff on a stick that causes cancer. Jacob vapes, and who knows what issues that could cause, and they are out here for twenty minutes, without clocking out, so they get paid.”

“It’s an addiction,” he says, his voice flat.

“An addiction that is being rewarded, while me, who doesn’t smoke, is working inside by myself. So I have decided that I am taking a smoke break twice a night, and getting paid for it as well. Scott, you know I’m right. They are costing you money,” you can’t exactly argue with reality. Deny it if he wants to, you are taking it upon yourself to make sure you are fairly treated like the other.

He rolls his eyes, holding the door open for you, “Get back inside.”

Lifting up your watch you shrug, “I’ve still got five minutes left.”

“You’ve seriously been standing out here, sucking on a stick for fifteen minutes?”

You laugh, shaking your head no. That is just silly, “No. I’ve been standing out here holding a stick for fifteen minutes. I only sucked on it when you came out here and disturbed my peace. Do you come out here when everyone else is smoking?”

“They’re actually smoking,” he says flatly.

”I don’t want to get cancer, but I also would like to have a paid break just like everyone else. Would you prefer that I took a beer break?” Scott seems to be playing favorites, when you know that it’s really yourself that is the favorite.

“No,” he walks off, but you decide you’re going to follow him, and annoy him. He’s easy to annoy, and you quite enjoy it. “Slade, quit following me.”

“We’re not finished with this conversation. I’m trying to figure out why I am not allowed to take a smoke break and not spend money, and not get cancer,” perfect logic.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to waste my money on vape or cigarettes. I don’t want cancer. But I do want to go outside and ‘smoke’,” you wiggle your fingers in quotations to emphasize how you're not actually going to be smoking, in case he forgets. “In this society as a woman it’s hard enough for me to make it ahead of men anyways. I’m just trying to better myself. Trying to do what’s right in a man’s world, while saving my money in order to buy a house.”

“You could make more money dancing,” you retch. He’s suggested this a few times to you, and you just feel in DC if you became a dancer, then you would become the dirty little secret of some politician. One that doesn’t want you to dance for others anymore. Just him. Or her. Hey, it’s a modern world. Corrupt politicians are a dime a dozen, and it doesn’t discriminate against genders.

“I’m just saying,” Scott isn’t creepy. It’s this back and forth game you play. His bar doesn’t actually have dancers.

“I make very good tips here.”

“And once you’ve bought your house what are you going to do?” You hadn’t really thought about that. You had a goal, a big pretty white house with a nice fenced in yard. You’d get a dog. You’re unsure of the breed, but you want to adopt. Maybe a cute little mutt. “So you make the money for a house, and then what? You keep working here?”

“Yes! Because what is life if I can’t annoy you on a regular basis?” Scott rolls his eyes, and points behind the bar. “We’ll continue our conversation at another time, Mr. Lang. Please, make sure you leave any suggestions in the little box in my locker for me!”

“Get back to work!” He screams over his shoulder. You are back at work. And only one man is at the bar, and the suspicious man from earlier this week is just randomly walking around. You narrow your eyes as you watch the odd man before leaning on the bar to the slumped over man.

“You look as if you need Advil,” and a really long nap.

“Do you have any?” He asks, his hand goes to massage his neck, lifting himself up in the process, and you gulp. This man is obnoxiously attractive. His hair is just that odd length of long that you crave, and the blue behind his glasses is gorgeous. And then he gives you a cocky sideways grin.

“No,” he furrows his brows at your weird inflection of your tone, “You need to just lean right on over. I can’t look at you and hold a conversation.”

“Why?” Why? Did he seriously ask you why? Because he’s too fucking attractive.

“Because you’re the stupid kind of attractive that gets me in trouble,” the kind of attractive that makes you fall in love on a first date, and then you let him walk all over you.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” Could he not be so — pretty? There’s this adorkable quality to him, and you want to throw your bar towel in his face. Just to hide his looks, and eyes from looking in your direction. Turd.

“Well, you’re the annoying attractive man that sits there, and flirts with me all night.”

“Oh really?” You weren’t even finished! Yep. He’s the kind. He’s already interrupting your thought process.

“The kind that acts all innocent, and then when they see me about to close down the bar, you whisper in my ear, ‘You wanna continue this conversation?’ And the answer is yes, yes, I want to continue this conversation. And of course you’re going to take me to some sleazy hotel room, and there’s no talking involved at all, just horizontal dancing. And you know what the worst part is?”

“I don’t, but I have a feeling no matter what my answer is, you are going to tell me anyway. So why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, so I don’t have to play a guessing game,” oh, he’s good. He is hitting all your morally gray flags.

“The worst part is you’re the type of man that could get me to role play, and quite honestly, I’ve never understood the point. Here we are two adults, and we can be who we say that we are, you know?” Do you even know? Because you are not even Slade.

“What’s wrong with role play?” Oh, cheeky son of a bitch. “And do you actually have Advil?” You do. You reach into your apron, because yes, bastards here can be annoying, and you just need something to ease the pain in your head since you can’t tell them that they’re insufferable and you don’t want to converse with them. Good tips are important. “You’re not trying to poison me are you?”

To prove that you aren’t, you take two pills out for yourself before offering them to him. God, he has nice hands. No! Do not fall for this sorcery. “The problem with role play is the fact you spend a few hours on a scene, instead of just getting to the good part.”

“What’s the good part?” He cocks up an eyebrow at you, and you just know this asshole is enjoying this.

“Sex of course,” he licks his lips slowly, and you watch every movement of every goddamn muscle like you’re studying for a test. He has the best crinkles around his eyes. He’s not some young boy, so you know he knows how to use what he’s got, “What do you want to drink?” You have got to create some space between the two of you and this conversation. It’s derailing, and if you don’t stop he’ll be in the supply closet with you on your knees. This man is making it hard to breathe.

“Just some beer on tap. I’m not that picky.”

“Seriously? I would have pegged you for a Miller guy or something,” that stupid eyebrow does that thing again. “Maybe Budweiser. You seem all American,” he seems like he would look great over you. STAP!!! Focus.

“Please, don’t peg me,” you’re the one smirking at him now. Those powerful men love being pegged. So your bestie, who is just some girl on TikTok and you don’t know her at all, but that’s what she says. Powerful men love to be topped. Being a power bottom somehow makes them feel free to not think, and they can just enjoy.

“He’s got jokes,” you wink at him, starting to fill him a glass up.

“Well, you’re the one that brought up sex,” you lay the pint in front of the man, sliding it over. Watching as he takes a drink.

“How’s my head?” He chokes. Sputtering beer onto the bar, and the odd man that has been here nearly every night this week turns to look at him. “That bad? I’ll have to try better next time.”

“This isn’t at all how I saw my evening going. Do you have a name?”

“Slade. And you?”

He picks up his phone, looking through something, and you fear you might have gone too far, “I would have pegged you for a Meadow.”

“What?” where the hell did that come from?

“Slade means valley. Meadow seems a bit more suitable for you. Ah, but it also means a place of refuge, and that’s what you’ve been for me tonight,” you smile softly. Not your flirty little smile, but a smile of being seen for once. Somehow your awkward humor has given the bar hottie some refuge from whatever has given him a headache, “Steven.”

“We can forgo last names tonight, Steven. What is it that you do? You’re definitely a politician,” the stupid eyebrow again! Curse him and his sexy hot ways. You’d think he was an asshole, if he wasn’t also just so sweet. “Let me guess a congressman?”

“Presidential candidate,” you guffaw. Snort. Seriously, it’s the ugliest laugh that has ever come out of your mouth, and the weird shadow man looks over at the two of you again. He’s probably this man’s bodyguard. Ahh, makes sense. He was canvassing the place. You wonder what he discovered.

“Okay,” you answer, pouring the two of you a shot of vodka. Sliding it over towards him, you raise your hand for a cheer, “To Mr. President.”

“To Meadow,” whatever. You didn’t care what you called him. They’re all fake names anyways. He’s going with a presidential candidate just as much as you’re going to be the Queen of England.

You raise the glass to your lips, drinking it all down, “If you’re the presidential candidate then I’m the Princess of Genovia.”

“That’s a made up country. Wouldn’t you rather a real one?” It’s endearing that he knows that at all.

“Princess of Monaco.”

“Alright, Grace Kelly,” stupid damn crooked smile.

“I thought I was your Meadow?”

“Mine?” Fuck his eyebrow. “When did you become mine?”

“I suppose it was the moment you and your stupid brow did that thing. Could have been when you looked at me. I guess it was that easy,” shit. Shit shit shit. “Not that I’m easy. It was easy. It meaning I’m going to shut my damn mouth, Mr. President. Would you like another glass of cheap beer?” imagine, the president at this dive bar drinking cheap beer!

“No, I don’t like to be fully impaired.”

“Fully impaired for what?” Good grief! “Man, fuck your eyebrows.”

“Sorry, they’ve offended you, my Meadow. That was never the intention. Of course, my intention was to come here for a beer, and then I ran into an awkwardly charming bartender who just so happens to be the Princess of Monaco. Does this mean we’re role playing?” Shit! One conversation, and now he’s role playing with you. You said you didn’t like that.

“Does this mean we’re eventually going to get to the good stuff?” You’ve made a fool of yourself this entire conversation, but for some unknown reason it worked. This man is lying about who he is, just like you are, but you don’t care. The only thing that you care about now is feeling him. He’ll be gone before you wake up. But you have to know what his dick looks like. And just how long he doesn’t last.

“Are you going to try to do better at your head?” Oh he is a cheeky little bastard. So those gray flags that you always ignore are starting to turn into a shade of green. No man is perfect. And this is just the good stuff after the role play.

“I’ve never had anyone complain about my head before,” his tongue moves out of his mouth, and he traces it over his pillow pink lips. Pulling the puffy bottom into his mouth before he bites on it. After the distraction you look at his left hand, “Are you married, Mr. President?”

“I’m not.”

“Are you lying?”

“No,” the ultimate red flag is non-existent. He could be lying, but there isn’t a tan line. there always is. These politicians love to traipse around with their shiny band for everyone to see, but they come in here, and remove it, but the line remains. They can fool the country, but they can’t fool the bartender that they want to fuck.

“So which sleazy hotel are we going to?”

“The Four Seasons,” now you’re the one to choke. Obviously he isn’t running for president because he wouldn’t be caught dead taking a broke bartender into The Four Seasons with him, “Only the best for the Princess of Monaco.”

Your body slams into the wall, while Steven fumbles around with the keycard. His mouth is devouring your own, and you moan at the taste of beer lingering on his tongue. He pulls you in tighter to his body, his leg bent at the knee so you straddle his leg in the most unladylike way, and you grind down on him, “The Princess of Monaco is…”

“If you say slutty, Mr. President, we’re going to have a problem,” his chuckle is low and rumbling as he finally gets the damn door open, and he drags you into the suite with him. His mouth attaches to whatever part of your body he can get to. Nipping and sucking on your neck while you stare in awe looking at the suite.

“Holy fuck,” you surmise, gazing at how beautiful this room is. It’s bigger than your fucking apartment. Maybe he isn’t a politician but a businessman. Maybe he was in the mob! You won’t say a word. Steven is probably a made up name just like Slade. Meadow is nice. You could change your name to Meadow.

“If you think my mouth is good here, just you wait,” he rips at your jeans. Pulling them apart, and you look at him confused. Did he just speak? Wait, the good stuff is supposed to be happening. But this view!

“What?” He stopped for some reason.

“What?” He stands up straight, realizing your needy little body has stopped humping air, and he wonders if things have changed instantly. “What is happening?”

“I was looking at the suite. You can continue to undress me. I can let you fuck me from behind while I look at this view. Holy hell!”

Stepping away from him, you go over to the window, staring out at the city. It’s amazing. Beautiful in a weird way. “Are you not into — did I read everything wrong here?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally down to fuck. I have this huge, giant need to know what your dick looks, feels, and tastes like. But I’m just seriously caught up in this room. Holy shit, how much did this cost?” Too much. Steven is in the mob. His name is probably Captain Shawshank!

“Do you realize you’ve said holy in front of every curse word known to man?” Lies.

“Holy damn. Now, I believe that’s all the words,” you practically skip out of the living area, and walk into one of the rooms, whistling. “There’s more than one room in here. After you fuck me are you going to make me go into another room to sleep, so you can be in here alone? Are you going to call me a car, and I have to walk out the back door? Are,” his thick finger presses up against your mouth, and he shushes you like you're a damn child.

“None of the above. I’m going to take your pants off, and throw you on the bed. Then I’m going to crawl in between your legs, and suck on that pretty little clit that is swollen and in need of attention. Then I’m going to fuck you like a dirty little slut. You know longer will be the Princess of Monaco, but the President’s whore,” green flag. Green flags all around! You would very much like to be ‘the president’s whore’. Clearly, you’re into role play after all.

“I like that,” you sigh.

He presses his mouth against yours. Biting on your lower lip, “You like that?” The timbre of his voice rattles you to your core, and arousal floods your nether region, and you begin to hump the air again. His smile is full of sin, and you wish his leg was in between your thighs again.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. Pulling off your lip he picks you up, and tosses you onto the bed. He takes a few steps towards you, and you shake your head, “You told me you were going to crawl in between my legs, that is very much walking.”

Steve growls but does get down on his knees, and he crawls to the bed. Gripping to your foot, he yanks you down to the edge of the bed, and rips apart your legs. Kissing in between your thighs before he begins to pull your pants off. Inhaling so deeply when your mound is uncovered by denim, “Did you just smell me? What do I smell like?”

“Heaven,” he answers coolly. He tosses your pants to the side before he returns to pull your panties down.

“You do have a condom, right? I actually never have sex with random strangers, especially not ones that claim that they’re a presidential candidate. You know, you really do sound insane when you say that,” he chuckles, and you feel it right on your sex. He’s controlling you with his voice alone. He hooks his fingers around the elastic of your panties, and starts to pull.

It’s both too fast, and not fast enough, “You didn’t answer about the condom part. I am on birth control, but Mr. President, you could have a disease that I can’t wash off,” he stops the descent of your panties, leaving you spread and bear, and it causes you to whine in protest. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and he tosses you a condom. Then another. And another. And another.

“Stop!” You scream sitting up, and looking into his wallet. “How many are there?”

“There should only be five, but I don’t like odd numbers so there’s six,” that fucking eyebrow. He knows. You told him what that damn thing does to you, and now he’s using it against you.

“Ahh!” You shove your hand over his brows, and try to breathe, “Are they expired? Why do you have six?”

“Because I don’t like odd numbers,” he repeats, smiling, and even though you can’t see it, you know he’s moving that stupid sexy brow. How are eyebrows sexy again?

“No, I mean, did you intend to sleep with six random strangers tonight? Or…?” Please say no!!

“Princess, I don’t sleep around because it usually comes back to bite me in the ass,” sure sure because ‘he’s a presidential candidate’. “But if I ever decide to fuck someone as you so colorfully say, I don’t want one time typically. I want it all night. So why don’t you check the expiration dates, while I have a snack,” he sinks lower on the floor, before he’s face to face with your pussy.

He rips your panties off, “I’ll have more delivered here,” he says before licking a swipe up your slit, and he moans. A moan so deep and guttural that your eyes roll in the back of your head, and you drop back on to the bed, and grab one of the condoms.

Steve buries himself in your drenched folds. His beard tickles your thighs and puss in the best possible way. Vision? Who needs it? You most certainly did, until whatever the fuck he’s doing with his tongue happened. It flicks over your overly sensitive nub while both his hands pull you apart, “What a pretty little pussy this is.”

Oh, this man is about to dirty talk you into an orgasm. The art of dirty talk is lost on most men. They don’t understand the importance of being vocal. Moan at the tastes and pleasures that we women give you. Tell us what you’re going to do with us. We’re not made of glass, and a lot of the time, women want you to be rough as fuck.

He pushes two fingers inside your wet heated channel, and moans again, “What’s the matter, princess? You already going dumb on just my fingers?” No, you’re not. You’re enjoying the feeling. “Go on, what’s the expiration date, baby?” His lips wrap around your clit, and he gives the button a hard suck, causing you to see stars. Mewling out his name, and your legs start to tighten around him.

He uses the width of his body to keep you good and spread, and tsks you, “I’ve just got started. But I need you to be a good girl, and read me what the expiration date on the condom is. Just to make sure it’s allowed for me to fuck you. If they’re expired, then I guess there’s going to be no fucking, or I’ll have to call someone to bring me a box of condoms, and I really don’t want to do that.”

You don’t want that either. No no. You want at least six times tonight. He can call for another box later in the night. Wait, who the fuck is bringing him condoms? What a weird thing to call for. Can you have condoms DoorDashed?

He pumps his fingers into you, and you attempt to read the back of this packet. Why the hell is it shiny? And where is the damn expiration date? You know that they have them. “Your pussy is so fucking greedy. You think she can handle a third finger?” No, but you’d like to try.

“I think she can. Just gotta ease number three in,” pleasure blinds you, and again, you can’t read anything on the back of this stupid tiny foil packet. Thank goodness you’re not allergic to latex because you can’t hold off a single second of actually seeing how his cock feels inside of you. “Go on. I know you can do it,” condescending sexy as fuck asshole.

“Steven, I can’t,” he lets his teeth drag over your clit, and you sob out his name again. “Steven!”

“That’s Mr. President to you, princess. Now, try again. Read the expiration, and I’ll give this greedy little pussy what she really wants, my throbbing fat cock,” yes. Yes, that is exactly what your pussy wants. You wish he’d give it to her right now. When the hell did you start referring to your puss as a she? The power of Steven, Mr. President.

“Mr. President, I can’t.”

“Then I’m going to stop,” you sit up on your elbows to stare at his beard soaked in your essence, and he leans back on his calves. Leaning away from her! Your pussy. “Read the expiration date first. And then I’ll let you come on my fingers. And after that, if the condoms aren’t expired, I’ll fuck you like the needy little slut that you are.”

“Oh my god!” The sound of your voice is like a bratty child. You want him so bad. So much. That’s another reason that you can’t even concentrate. You’re horny, and you need to come. “Mr. President, I wanna come!”

“Expiration date, sweetheart.”

You growl in protest but read over this tiny stupid fucking print. Who the hell did this? Who designed this to look like this? Stupid people that weren’t in the middle of getting their back broken by a lying fucking god. If he was telling the truth, you’d be fucking a presidential candidate. Haha, wouldn’t your parents be so proud that you took someone like him home? Well, he paid for the damn room. At least he has money.

“Ahh! Ooh ooh! They don’t expire for another three months! Make me come.”

“As you wish,” he says before he is tongue fucking you into oblivion. You thought his fingers felt nice. This is a different feeling. This is primal. My god, he’s so dirty, and you almost hope he is a presidential candidate, just so you will know how a president fucks. His tongue is replaced by three fingers, and he sucks and finger fucks you roughly.

Slamming those fingers into your body like it’s what he was made to do. Curling his digits and hitting a spot in your body that only you have only discovered. No man has ever found this hidden gem. The dam to pleasure. It only means one thing, and you try to tighten your legs together. Shivering at the build up that he’s creating.

“You dirty little slut. You know what I’m trying to do, don’t you?” he’s trying to soak himself, and you for that matter.

“Mr. President!” Your voice is so uneven. He’s gotta stop hitting that spot or else…

“Go on, darling. Soak me. Squirt all over me. Come on. Give it to me. Give me what I want. Yes! Fucking yes!” He yells out a hoop of triumph as you squirt arousal all over his chest. “Fucking dirty girl,” he pushes his face back into your wetness, and laves up your juices. Giving you the time that you need to come down from that fucking high.

Before you even realize what is happening, he’s pulling off his shirt, and he looks better with it off. A few hidden tattoos that make you drool. If he’s telling the truth, he’s going to be the hottest fucking president ever. And he has hidden tattoos? Drool. God help your body. He pulls off his pants, and of course he’s a boxer briefs man. You want to cry happy tears at the size of his bulge. You’re a glutton for punishment, and you want him to ruin your cunt. Judging from the impossible starin of his underwear, he’s going to.

Leaning over your body, he starts chuckling as he removes your shirt. “Are your legs like jello, princess?” Yes. He just made your body have a damn waterfall, and your brain is trying to catch up, and he has the arrogance to ask that? Yes. You are jello. “I like seeing you pliable like this. Just means I’m going to get to fuck you the way I want to.”

Whoever is out there to ask for forgiveness, you promise to after he treats you like his own personal whore. Removing your bra, he smirks, “Yeah,” he slaps at your tits, moaning when you yip at the slight pain. “Perfection. I’m about to make you my little sex doll. What do you think about that?”

“Yes, please!” You sound like an idiot, and you don’t care. “Mr. President. I want to see your cock, please.”

“Oh, and she’s got manners, too. Does she just want me to forgo niceties, and just fuck you like the needy little slut you are?”

“Oh god, yes,” he reaches on the bed to retrieve one of the six condoms, and then starts to roll down his underwear. You try to be polite, and look him in the eyes, but there’s a glorious cock right there, that you have to see. He peels them down further, and his cock springs to life. Perfect. Pretty spongy mushroom tip with beads of precum oozing out. A beautiful vein traced on the underside of his cock, and right up his happy trail.

You want to bite it. Trace that vein with your tongue. You’re such a loser simp for this beautiful man, and you don’t care. You’ll shout it to the world that you are his sex toy if he wants you to. You didn’t care as long as he puts that pretty cock inside of you.

Steven brings the packet to his mouth, and his teeth clamp on a corner before he peels it off. Spitting the corner off with a pffft. Bits of his spittle float into the air, and you wish he’d just spit on you. In you. Make you swallow it, you didn’t care. He curls his finger, wiggling it, and beckoning you closer. You clamber up on your knees, both of you naked and ready to be owned and claimed by the other.

“If you want me, put it on me,” you look at him through your lashes before you take the packet, and pull the rubber out. You grip his velvet steel rod in your hand before placing the latex on the tip, and roll it down his length. Counting inches as you go along.

“Nine. Inches that is, and you’ll take every inch,” his voice is so gruff, and you can’t wait to try and fit his heavy, hot, pulsing cock inside of you.

“I do love a challenge.”

“Then lay back. Because I’m not stopping until every inch is inside of you,” every glorious nine inches of him. Yep. You’re a goner. Done. Finished. Whatever it is that he has, you’re taking. You settle yourself back on the bed, and Steven knees himself to his perfect spot, and uses his cock to slap over your clit.

He wiggles his tip through your slick. Always ending at your clit, and he adds a bit more pressure. Running the tip through your warmth, and pushes through your entrance, and he pulls back up. Repeating the process over and over again, until you’re weak, and wondering when you actually get to feel him.

Steven sinks into you past the tip. Watching you to make sure you’re still okay with where things are going, and adds another inch. You hiss at the wide stretch. He’s not just long, he is so wide. His fullness pushes you open in the most lewd and salacious way. This is such a vulgar moment, and yet it still feels so right. It feels like heaven.

Adding another inch, you grab onto his forearms, nodding for him to continue. Another inch. And another. Not stopping until the tip whispers against your cervix, and he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. “Do you want me to treat you like a whore, or like I love you,” that’s the thing about you and him, you both know this isn’t love. It’s two adults giving each other pleasure. And you haven’t had that in so long.

“I’m your whore, Mr. President, use me,” that damn brow cocks up, and he gives you a crooked smile. A warning because he isn’t going to take it easy on you. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he lifts you up and crashes his mouth into yours in sync with how he thrusts his hips into you. He’s so deep that you go cross eyed. He’s stealing your breath away with his mouth, and the harshness of the drive of his hips.

Fucking you in two. You feel this man up to your eyeballs, “Meadow, we’re going to have a long night if you’re already going dumb. Are you giving me permission to…”

“Yes!” You shout without any hesitation. “Yes, just fuck me. Whenever, however you want. Just always wear a condom,” he nods his head once, and both his hands grip onto the headboard. And he RAILS into you. You understand the need for multiple beds now because you’re embarrassingly leaving a mess all over this one. Your arousal pools underneath you, and the squelching sounds of your cunt echo in the room.

What the fuck is he doing to your body, and how? How is he able to control your body the way he is? Make you feel floaty and boneless, while also shocking you with aching pleasure. He is glorious, and you’re going to have him all night. Who knows, maybe he can continue to come into the bar and fuck your brains out.

“You’re body is so fucking reactive,” he grunts as he drills into your body. How is this man single? There is a bad trait in there somewhere. He lies about what it is he does of course. “Hey,” he snaps his fingers at your face, “Stay with me.”

Rude. But true. His face makes this so much better. You can look at him without imagining that you have Henry Cavill fucking you. This view is very nice indeed. “Don’t stop fucking me!”

“Shh,” he coos down at you. “I know you’re going all limp and everything, but you don’t have to shout at me,” you didn’t shout, “You very much did shout. If you can’t behave I’ll have to fill your mouth with something,” he is a devil, and you scream his name again. “Suit yourself.”

“No! Come back!” Sex should always feel so good that you beg them not to leave you. “Oh,” he keeps fisting his cock, while he searches for something on the floor. “Your ass is quite nice.”

“Yours isn’t bad either. Aha!” Bending over, he retrieves something from the floor, and then looks at you with a smile. What is he going to do with that? “My my, you were soaked at the bar. Were you leaking out on your thighs?”

“Yes,” there’s no point in denying that Steven has made you wetter than anyone ever has before. He knows it, too.

“Good girl,” you want to melt. You want to die right here. He can’t be saying words like that and think that your body won’t respond. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” you respond quickly, “Such a good girl.”

He inches closer to you. His mouth hovering right over yours, and he licks up your tongue. You shiver. Your body pushes you closer to him because you want more, and he spits on your tongue, “Swallow,” you listen so well, “Very good girl. Now, get on your knees. This next part is going to go fast because your tight little pussy is making it really hard for me not to bust a nut just looking at you spread, and gaping because of me.”

“I’m — what?” You look down at your body, gasping. “What…?”

“On. Your. Knees. Or I make you watch myself come in my hand,” oh, hell no. You get onto your knees, and lean forward. Arching your back, and showing him exactly what he gets to have for the rest of the night. Well, five condoms worth. “Thatta girl,” swoon. Asshole. Asshole! He reaches around your body, shoving your panties into your mouth, and you cry, arching your back even more. He’s filthy.

Steven lines himself up to your entrance, grabbing onto your hips with so much force that you know you’ll have his fingerprints etched into your skin for a couple of days. With one hitch of his pelvis, he slams into you balls deep, “Mmm!” You don’t care, your mouth is stuffed, you’re going to be as loud as you possibly can. He fills you so well. The fullness inside of you is the most pleasant exhilaration you have ever experienced.

But the way he grunts and moans with each harsh slide into you. His balls slapping up against your clit — this is perfection. He spits down to your hole, and you just know he’s about to turn even more gray flags green, and he pushes his thumb into your puckered ass, and if you could form words, they would be thanking him.

“You’re such a fucking dirty girl. You like this? You like how I fuck you like a dirty little slut?” Yep. You like it a lot, but you can’t tell him that. Not while you’re tasting your own honey. Not while you are coating his thick cock with your cream. Not while he is filling every hole in some weird way. Nope. You can’t think. Your synapses are sparking up with so much delight. A numbing pleasure that makes no sense other than your body is lifted into another world with the god of pleasure and debauchery.

“Your pussy has been pulsing around me for five minutes, did you know that?” Yeah. You are feeling that. You even feel the vein on his cock throbbing in your tight channel. “Fuck yeah. Yes! I’m almost there. You’re coming with me,” one of his hands dips between your legs, and he rubs over your clit with so much ferocity that your legs tremble. Falling down onto the bed, and he just keeps fucking you into a black hole.

Shuddering and shaking. Muffled screams that make no sense. And his hips snap into you, darkening your backside with heat. He’s so powerful. “I’m. Fuuuuuuck! Coming,” warmth balloons into the latex, and he slows his rhythm. Easing into a slow roll of his body, until he slides out of you. Flipping you onto your back, and you are surrounded in so much wetness.

He pulls the panties out of your mouth, tossing them back onto the floor. His eyes coast over your overstimulated body, still tweaking as he pulls the condom off himself. Grabbing the tip, Steven dangles it over your mouth letting his spend drip onto your mouth where you hungrily lick it up. He could fall in love with you at this moment.

You’re the best stress reliever he’s ever had. “You look so pretty coated in me.”

“Next time, why don’t you let me feel you explode on me? I could paint myself with your cum.”

“You’re the best kind of disgusting,” he smiles, and hops off the bed, and pulls you up to him. “Let’s get you showered. Then we’ll order some room service, and you need to hydrate. You made a mess of that bed.”

“Sorry,” you cringe. As you look over the mess of the bed. It’s soaked. Ruined. You feel sorry for whoever has to clean this mess.

“Do not apologize because I wasn’t issuing a complaint. Are you tired? It is late. We’ll figure it out in the shower,” is this man really offering to shower with you? How is that both sweet and hot. “Don’t get me hard in the shower, and I know that will be difficult because I know what you feel like. Not to mention, you looking like that, and because of me, it’s really working for you,” you know you’re wrecked. Your eyelids at half mast with the high that is coursing through your body.

“Who is the talkative one now, Steven.”

“You can either call me Steve, or Mr. President, Meadow,” you see the game that the two of you are playing. And either it’s just going to be good for tonight, or you could see yourself falling for this man, despite his need to lie about his job. It’s fine. You’re fine. As long as he fucks you like that again. You can pretend he’s the future president.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

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#nothing you could do #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfics #chris evans #chris evans character #marvel

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mx-piggy · 2 months ago

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I am posting once again on behalf of my friend Noor (@nourayman and @ahmaedworld1). Things are pretty rough for her and her family at her moment. That's not to say that anything been easy during the genocide, but she seems especially defeated at the moment.

I let her know that I would be making this post, and I asked her what she needed funding for the most and the costs of these necessities. As you'll see in the messages that I have screenshotted, she let me know that what she needs most is a bag of flour to make bread. A bag that will last her and her family just 2 weeks costs a staggering €500, and it is certainly a high payment that will be difficult to keep up with unless she receives regular financial support through her campaign.

She also wanted me to share photos and a video of what it's like queuing for bread to illustrate what she must deal with, alongside other suffering Palestinians. It's a striking scene, one I think that everyone should see to grasp what it's like at the moment.

Reading about Noor's mental state is truly heartbreaking, but really I can't blame her for feeling so defeated and scared. I have been contributing what I can to her campaign and checking in on her regularly but I hope that sharing her campaign again will make up for the lack of financial support I can offer. I hope that people will see her anguish and be moved to help in whatever way they can.

If you are unable to donate the minimum of €5, please share Noor's campaign, via this post or her own. I am sure she would be grateful for anyone making their own post about her campaign, too.

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 4 months ago

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the girl is mine (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: When your fascination with Mayor Agatha Harkness becomes all consuming, what lengths will you go to in order to get her attention?

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Helloooo, this is a fun little one shot I’ve had sitting in my drive for a while and I finally got around to finishing it. Title & fic idea are both heavily inspired by Ariana Grande’s music video ‘the boy is mine’. Agatha has been consuming my every waking thought lately, so I hope you enjoy this fun au! Let me know what you think, my asks/dm’s are always open!

Growing up you never showed much interest in politics, and you certainly could never name more than a few politicians off the top of your head. It was dull, and you failed to find a group of white men who were knocking on death’s door to be riveting. But all of that changed with the election for the new mayor. In the past, you were vaguely aware of upcoming elections, and tried to remember to vote. But you never actively followed a campaign; at least, not until her.

The her in question being Agatha Harkness, newly elected mayor of New York City. Being the only daughter of the former long-time U.S. Senator Evanora Harkness, politics was in her blood. Running a cutthroat campaign full of promises to clean up the city and help its residents, all whilst viciously annihilating her opponents one by one in debate, she quickly became the candidate to back. Posters of her face were plastered over every crevice of the city; with her perfectly messy dark brown curls, plump red lips, pristinely bright white smile, and lustrous blue eyes it was no surprise you became hooked.

You followed the campaign at a slightly obsessive level, tuning into every debate and press briefing, even having notifications for Agatha Harkness enabled on every platform hoping for a glimpse of the woman who had slowly taken over your every waking thought. She was brilliant, and she had absolutely no idea you existed.

At least, not yet.

A few months after the election, Mayor Harkness appeared to be following through on her campaign promises. Unemployment was at a record low, there were different initiatives to help funding for the public school system, even crime and gang activity became nearly nonexistent.

However there were rumblings from various journalists that perhaps the mayor wasn’t as perfect as she appeared to be. A few reports were suggesting that instead of eradicating the crime syndicates that had been plaguing the city for decades, she had merely moved operations underground. Others hinted that perhaps she had something to do with her mother’s rather mysterious and sudden death. But that was absurd, you thought to yourself as you watched the mayor on your television screen, her bright blue eyes twinkling back at you as she answered a few questions.

Potion making had never been your speciality, as you were still fairly inexperienced in most realms of magic, but you froze as Agatha gave a sly wink when being asked how she kept crime rates lowered. Stirring the cauldron with renewed vigor, the pink fumes filled the room as you inhaled.

Your eyes drifted over to the outfit you had hung on the outside of your closet, briefly wondering if the plan you had concocted was too unhinged. But the mayor’s authoritative voice caught your attention once more as you turned back to the screen.

“Yes, you,” Agatha motioned to one of the eager reporters holding their hands up.

“Madam Mayor, how do you respond to allegations that you accepted illegal campaign donations from some of the top crime families in the city?”

The mayor didn’t appear to be phased by the question, pursing her lips as she frowned. “Well, I’d say that sounds like yet another baseless claim from the media’s fruitless attempts to discredit my accomplishments. The witch hunts didn’t stop in Salem, did they?”

The clamor of dozens of reporters resulted in the mayor waving her hand to decline any other questions, leaving the press briefing room with her team in tow. Shutting off your tv, you glanced back at the outfit, a feeling of determination washing over you.

Popping the cork off the vial, you carefully poured the liquid in the bottle. Pretty soon the only thought on the mayor’s mind would be your name.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

The next morning, you were out the door before the sun was over the horizon, running through the plan again in your head with your destination clear in mind. You had come up with the idea late one night while researching the effects of various love potions. It was risky, sure, but you had taken the time to perfect this particular potion, leaving no room for error.

The rest of the plan was rather reliant on your ability to trick the mayor’s staff into thinking you were a reporter, but hey, using a few charming spells wasn’t unethical if it was in the name of love, right?

By the time you made it to the mayor’s office you were already having second thoughts. Could you go to jail for impersonating a reporter?

Unfortunately, you had run out of time to turn around as the friendly looking older woman sitting at the front desk waved you over. Approaching her, you ran through what you had practiced saying in the shower. Quickly looking at the personalized name plate on the edge of her desk, you gave her a wide smile.

“Good morning, Sharon. I have an appointment scheduled this morning with Mayor Harkness,” you greeted the receptionist, keeping any trace of nervousness from your tone.

“Oh, an appointment?” Sharon asked, appearing to be confused as she looked at her computer, clicking around with her mouse. “I hate these things, I can never find what I’m looking for. Do you know what never has silly malfunctions? A nice, simple day planner.”

Raising your eyebrows, you nodded along. “Of course. Very reliable.”

Sharon nodded in agreement, still struggling with her computer. “Exactly. I’ve tried explaining that to the mayor but she just waves me away to get her more tea.” She paused, frowning at whatever was on the screen. “I’m not seeing any appointments for this morning. What did you say your name was again?”

Internally sighing, and hoping you had learned this particular spell correctly, you discreetly waved your left hand, mumbling the incantation under your breath. You had never tried an enchantment before, but the spellbook made it appear to be simple enough. As long as you said the right words and had your intention clear in your mind it would work. It had to.

Clearing your throat, you gave her another bright smile. “I’m sure if you check your calendar again, it will have me marked down for an appointment with the mayor. I’m here for a last minute interview.”

Sharon blinked, and her eyes appeared hazier than they were a moment prior, signaling your spell had worked. Looking back at her computer, she gave you a mindless smile. “Oh of course! This silly computer. Right this way, I’ll take you to the mayor.”

Following the receptionist down the hallway, you made note of how the enchantment did not appear to make any obvious changes, at least not outwardly. You did feel a slight twinge of guilt at manipulating someone without magic, but those thoughts were expelled from your brain as you saw the woman who had bewitched you from the first moment you saw her.

Agatha Harkness was leaning against her open office door, a sly grin on her face as she chatted with a nervous looking employee. Her long dark brown hair was messily splayed across her shoulders, and you could picture running your fingers through it.

With one hand cocked on her hip, and the other tucked in the pocket of her expensive looking purple slacks, you felt your breath hitch. This was really happening.

After a few moments, Agatha looked over at you and her receptionist, and she waved the employee away as she frowned.

“Shannon, who do we have here?” Agatha curiously asked, looking you up and down.

You frowned, wasn’t her name Sharon?

Sharon didn’t appear to notice, as she mindlessly smiled. “The reporter for your interview is here, Madam Mayor.”

The mayor’s frown deepened, looking between you and her receptionist. “I thought I told you to clear my schedule this morning. I don’t remember agreeing to any more interviews.”

“It’s the only appointment scheduled for this morning,” Sharon insisted, and you prayed to whatever deity that was listening that your spell didn’t wear off too soon. “I must have forgotten to mention it to you.”

Agatha hummed, a thoughtful expression on her face as her gaze remained fixated on her receptionist. “I see.” She finally looked back over in your direction, curiously eyeing you. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes. Thank you, Shannon, that will be all.”

Sharon, or maybe Shannon, walked back to her desk and Agatha held her hand out, gesturing for you to enter her office. You tentatively walked through the doors, as the mayor followed closely behind, shutting the doors shut.

The mayor’s office wasn’t quite what you had expected. It was a lot bigger than you pictured, and the longer you looked around the more you wondered how it was this size. Large violet tinted drapes hung from the windows, and you were momentarily stunned from the view this high up.

You knew from various interviews that the mayor was an avid reader, so you were unsurprised to find floor to ceiling rows of bookshelves lining three of the four walls. However, you were surprised to find some of them appeared rather old, and you weren’t close enough to read the titles but you managed to make note that a good chunk of them appeared to be in Latin.

“You can take a seat,” Agatha said cordially, walking past you to her desk. “Let’s try and make this snappy.”

Taking a step forward, you pulled one of the chairs out, but in the process of sitting down, the vial of potion you had in your pocket came tumbling out, crashing on the ground as the glass broke, spilling the contents all over the floor.

Shit.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot I had that in my pocket,” you quickly apologized, trying to think of a somewhat convincing story. “You know how delicate perfume bottles can be.”

“Perfume?” Agatha repeated, tilting her head as she examined you, a calculated expression on her face as the frown lines on her forehead deepened.

“Yes. It’s…French,” you offered, avoiding eye contact as you cleared your throat. This was a horrible idea.

Agatha frowned, intrigue coloring her features as she eyed the now broken vial of potion. “I see…what publication did you say you were from again?”

“The Times,” you lied, straightening your posture as she turned her attention back to you. “It’s actually my first day.”

Raising her eyebrows, the mayor sat back in her seat. “You don’t say, and they sent you to interview me? How ambitious.”

“I’ve been following your career for a while,” you prompted, brainstorming ways to possibly salvage this opportunity. “The work you’ve done for the city is quite admirable.”

“Admirable?” Agatha scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I can’t say I’ve been hearing a lot of that from your esteemed peers.”

“Well, some people hate to watch a woman be successful in a position of power,” you offered, and your answer appeared to appease the mayor, as she gave you a curt nod. “Besides, it’s not like you actually did any of those things, people love making up stories.”

You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the office or your imagination, but there was a brief flash of something on the mayor’s face. If you didn’t know any better, you would say she seemed amused at what you said. But that was ridiculous, right?

“Of course,” Agatha answered, slowly licking her lips. “Why don’t we get started?”

It was then that reality set in. You hadn’t anticipated actually having to ask the mayor any questions, the potion would have already kicked in at this point. Unfortunately, Agatha observed your hesitation as she let out a deep sigh, and you could tell she was growing more annoyed.

“You know, most journalists send over their questions beforehand,” Agatha informed you, giving you an inscrutable glance as you nervously fumbled around. “I’m a very busy woman, despite what certain media outlets are spewing out.”

“I apologize, Madam Mayor. I don’t want to waste any of your time,” you insisted, wondering yet again why you thought this plan would work to begin with.

Agatha opened her mouth to say something else, but hesitated for a moment, giving you another inquisitive stare. “Very well, I suppose not everyone can be Christiane Amanpour, hm?”

Christiane Amanpour? The name sounded relatively familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had heard it from.

“You know, the world renowned journalist?” Agatha added on, deep blue eyes boring into your own, and you quickly nodded.

“Of course, I’m such a big fan of her work,” you gushed, but in the back of your mind you had a sinking feeling this wasn’t going the way you hoped it would.

“I’m sure you are,” Agatha mused, and there was something in her words that led you to believe perhaps this was going worse than you were imagining. “How about I ask my assistant to make us some tea? That always helps calm my nerves.”

She was so kindhearted, you noted, feeling yourself relax again as you nodded in agreement. The responding grin Agatha gave you sent a shiver down your spine.. Maybe you could make this work. Sure, you weren’t actually a journalist at The Times and Agatha would eventually realize that when no story came out, but that was a problem for the future. You barely paid attention as Agatha made a quick call to her assistant, but after she hung up you refocused.

“I have to tell you, Sharon was very helpful this morning,” you said honestly, still feeling some lingering guilt over using an enchantment on her.

“Who’s Sharon?” Agatha deadpanned, giving you a puzzled look.

For a moment you thought she was joking as you let out a nervous, quiet laugh, until you realized she was being serious.

“Um, your assistant?”

“Oh, Shannon?” Agatha corrected you, waving her hand dismissively. “She does what she’s told. A bit too chatty for my personal taste.”

You tried to hide the surprise from your face as you processed what the mayor said. That was a bit strange, but maybe the receptionist’s nameplate was wrong? After all, Agatha was so good. All the work she had been doing for the city, you knew she genuinely cared about helping people. Right?

“Of course, my mistake,” you said quietly, awkwardly crossing your legs.

Sharon, or Shannon, came in a few moments later with two cups of tea. Her eyes were still slightly glazed over, but the enchantment would surely wear off soon…probably. Actually, you weren’t sure how long the spell would last. But she would be fine…probably.

When you were alone again, Agatha let out a low chuckle, and you frowned. You didn’t say any of that out loud, right?

“Oh don’t mind me, dear,” Agatha said, giving you another charming smile and you felt your worries instantly slip away as she held out one of the cups. “Tea?”

The mayor’s lithe fingers brushed against yours as you accepted the cup, and you let out an involuntary shiver at the lingering contact. Slowly withdrawing her hand, Agatha smirked at the flush you could feel spreading across your cheeks. Raising her own cup to her lips, you were entranced watching her ruby red lips part as she took a small sip.

Following her lead, you lifted your cup, but hesitated. The tea’s sweet aroma invaded your senses as you inhaled, and for a moment the scent smelled oddly familiar. You weren’t usually a tea drinker, you preferred coffee, but it was odd, the longer you allowed the scent to settle the more you wondered what was in it.

Looking up, you found Agatha watching you again, her cup lowered back on her desk as she surveyed you.

“Is the tea not to your liking?” The mayor asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

“No, it smells great,” you insisted, raising the cup closer to your lips.

Her blue eyes were so warm and inviting, and she gave you a small encouraging nod, enticing you to take a sip. The warm liquid was as sweet as it had smelled, almost too sweet, you noted, allowing it to swirl around your mouth as you swallowed.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, so quietly you barely heard her.

Blinking, you felt the room begin to spin as you struggled to make sense of what was happening. The sickeningly sweet taste lingered in your mouth as you felt your body grow heavier with every breath you let out. You barely heard the crash of your teacup hit the floor as your hands fell to your sides.

Your eyes struggled to remain open as you attempted to fight whatever was happening to you, but felt firm hands hold you in place.

“Don’t fight it, pet, I’d hate to have Shannon clean up even more of a mess,” Agatha whispered in your ear as everything went dark.

The throbbing of your headache was the first thing you were aware of as you finally came to, eyes fluttering open. There was a dull ache that seemed to run through your entire body, and you struggled to recognize your surroundings. It was then you realized why you felt a dull ache, as you came to the startling realization your body was suspended midair, hands and feet bound.

Were you still dreaming?

“Not quite, dear.”

What?

You tried to move your head, but failed as you heard a responding chuckle at your fight to free yourself.

“I must say, you’re clever. Inexperienced, but clever,” Agatha mused as she came into focus, walking towards you with a smirk painted across her face.

“I…” you struggled to speak, your throat far too dry, and Agatha fake pouted, raising her hand to brush against your face.

“Is someone feeling shy? Where’s that confident little witch who used an enchantment spell on my assistant?” Agatha mocked, lightly slapping your cheek before tracing a finger across your lips. “Tell me, what was your plan after slipping me that love potion?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” you said deliriously, still feeling an odd sensation in your head.

“Normally I’d have drained you of your magic by now,” Agatha said aloud, her long fingers moving lower, and you gasped as they wrapped around your neck. “It’s been a long time since someone’s managed to surprise me.”

“You’re a witch?” You managed to get out, torn between the paralyzing fear of what was occurring and a more carnal desire as you felt a heat pool between your legs from the way the mayor was looking at you.

“And here I thought you were clever,” Agatha said, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she squeezed, the pressure causing you to moan.

She moved closer to you, not releasing her hand from your throat as her lips grazed yours. “Now, I think it’s time I break in my new toy, hm? Why don’t you show me how much you worship me.”

The mayor released you from your magical bindings as you hit the floor, and swirls of purple magic surrounded you, forcing you on your knees as she roughly grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

“I’ve always wanted my own pet.”

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader

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shorthaltsjester · 11 days ago

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endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good’) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle.

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse. And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

#cr spoilers #cr meta #this is some very bad writing on my part but this is like draft 10 of compiling my thoughts on this particular comparison #and i need to save my editing brain for thesis editing so. embracing the 'make bad art' but. write bad essays. this isn't an essay #its projectile word vomit but alas #critical role #critical role spoilers #bell's hells #the mighty nein #mighty nein #cr2 #cr3 #my post #long post #(truly i'm sorry for the length i have overwrite disease)

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