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betterthanyalls · 2 days ago

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hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination.

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being.

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

#x reader #fluff #betterthanyalls #ask #oneshot #epic odysseus #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic musical #oddyseus #hermes x reader #epic hermes #epic hermes x reader #hermes #epic #odysseus x penelope #odysseus #the odyssey #odysseus x reader

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namspilot · 3 days ago

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hi! this is on anon (because i don’t have an f1 blog) so I can’t attach links, but you asked for gpda strike fics and i love the gpda and eat up fics that mention it! so im going to include the full titles and authors’ names of various ao3 fics that fit your request (of which there are really not very many that I know of, sorry :/)

firstly, a note - if you are interested in fics that deal with the 1982 GPDA Strike (which actually got the union disbanded for some time), there is an officially wrangled ao3 tag for that event with a few fics: “1982 Formula 1 Drivers’ Strike”.

outside of that tag, i have only found 2 modern strike fics! unfortunately both rpf so if you’re not a fan of that then there’s not much out there for you

“have your words and eat them too,” peppermintstreets [longer and not strictly about a strike, focuses on striking/union activities as well as a pretty thick sebchal plot, so if you don’t like shipping/rpf, avoid this one]

“Like A Pawn Checkmates A King,” Meova [ironically ALSO sebchal though this one is more focused on strike activities, also a longer one, less shippy than the first one but still avoid if you don’t like rpf]

outside of THAT there are 2 drivers’ protest fics I know about (and one that I know exists but cannot find anywhere)… also both rpf.

“Fuck the FIA,” dropofaurum [recent fic about Max’s swearing punishment, involves the drivers protesting but also involves lestappen]

“it’s not queerbaiting, it’s saving the world,” buildyourfences [lestappen are outed in a photo of them making out, george proposes that various drivers kiss each other on camera, but the fic is much more focused on landoscar kissing each other for the protest and then getting together at the end than the protest itself]

i can’t find this anywhere but i know for a fact there’s a fic somewhere that’s about Lewis coming out (or maybe being outed) and all of the grid giving him kisses in the paddock to show support, and it’s much less ship focused than the above fic despite having a similar premise and 1000% more kisses lmfao

so yeah sorry I don’t have more and there’s not much variety,,,,, but I ALSO love gpda/union fics so figured I’d offer up what I had :]

oh my goodness anon I LOVE YOU!!!! I hope both sides of your pillow are always cold!! thank you so much for your time and your research, I can't wait to read them!! 💘💘💘 also, no need to worry about them being rpf seeing as I write rpf myself 😙😎

I'll add links to the fics in this post so anyone who's interested can check them out with me!

Here's the 1982 Formula One Driver's Strike AO3 Tag.

Modern Strike Fics:

have your words and eat them too by peppermintstreets, sebchal

In 2024, an accident at Spa and Wurz's simultaneous absence forces Sebastian to fulfill the role as GPDA chairman. And really, who thought high-speed racing and sausage kerbs were a good combination? As time keeps ticking and the discovery of a mole comes to light, the looming threat of a strike grows stronger as a desperate means to counter the FIA's wrath. It wasn't a matter of if, but when.

Like a Pawn Checkmates a King by Meova, sebchal

When a provisional calendar for 2025 gets leaked, Sebastian is shocked to see 27 races on there. That can't be right. Getting all of the drivers to agree something must be done is surprisingly easy. Actually getting something done... isn't. They'll have to take matters into their own hands, then.

Driver's Protest Fics:

Fuck the FIA by dropofaurum, lestappen

It was bullshit. Mohammed bin Sulayem, the FIA, the Red Bull car, the McLaren flexi wing. All bullshit. Most importantly, the fact that drivers can’t swear on radios and interviews is bullshit. or, the 2024 grid stages a protest by all swearing in their native languages.

it’s not queerbaiting, it’s saving the world by buildyourfences, landoscar

Lando bursts into Oscar’s room without knocking. He’s red in the face and panting, sweat collecting on his forehead like he just ran a marathon. “You need to kiss me.” or, the drivers stage a protest, of sorts. Oscar might lose his mind.

and no. 3 sounds like it could be this one!!:

an ode to political statements by this_is_my_associate_mr_mc_clap_yo_handz, lewis/everyone

Lewis comes out. The FIA… don’t take it very well.

I'm so excited to dive into these! and a note to authors, i messaged some of you about sharing these links just to be safe but i figured that my 18+ rpf tumblr blog counts as a safe space. however, if any of y'all want your link taken down, just message me and i'll do so, no questions asked! alternatively, if you want me to tag your tumblr accounts lmk and i can do that too!!

#f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic rec #formula one fic rec #driver's strike fics #sebchal #landoscar #lestappen #lewis/everyone

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itsclydebitches · 14 hours ago

Text

RWBY Recaps: Vol3E1 "Round One"

Hello, everyone, and welcome to a new collection of RWBY Recaps!!

This is a unique project in that instead of writing purely for my own entertainment, these recaps are part of the Fandom Trumps Hate auction (you can check them out here if you're interested in learning more). Specifically, these recaps are a gift for the lovely Kae who requested some meta on the earlier Volumes, or work that focused on Ozpin and/or Ironwood. I figured that Volume Three would touch on all those requests and, frankly, it's an era of RWBY that I was already interested in covering. Volume 3 was a turning point for RWBY's tone and overall mythology and I'm eager to see what I think of it in 2024, after six additional seasons and a rather chaotic overhaul.

(If anyone is reading this from the future, one of the reasons why it took me so damn long to get the first recap out is because finding official streams of RWBY has become a fool's errand as it changes ownership. Fun!)

Anyway, the game plan is simple: cover all of Volume Three at an undetermined, though hopefully steady-ish pace from here on out. Technically, the deadline for our FTH fandowrks is at the end of 2024, however, I absolutely plan to continue this series past my 5k promise. As always, this will be a RWDE-focused meta (though I'm eager to see how much nostalgia carries me through the season), so if you Don't Like; Don't Read.

Everyone got that? Great!

Now, indulge me for a moment and cast your mind back. It's October of 2015. Pizza Rat is a tumblr icon, Left Shark still reigns, and everyone is arguing over whether a dress is gold and white, or blue and black (it's the former FYI ;). Amidst such quality memes RWBY begins airing again on the 24th, presumably bringing with it another season of stellar choreography and simple, if entertaining conflict. Team RWBY has just helped contain a massive breach courtesy of Cinder's machinations, Torchewick is in Ironwood's custody, the White Fang is falling under Salem's puppeteering, Penny has revealed her android identity as well as her supposed fate to save the world, the girls are beginning to acknowledge the responsibility of their chosen career path, and the mysterious Raven has been identified as Yang's birth mother. All in all, RWBY has a lot to play with going into its third season.

It's notable then that we open peacefully. The viewer is treated to a number of environmental shots to set the scene, including one of the forest with its iconic falling Fall leaves. Ruby is positioned at the edge of a cliff with her signature rose petals drifting behind her. Stylistically it fits the scene, though from a literal standpoint it also implies that she used her semblance speed to get here. Given the momentary reveal that she's speaking to her mom, that's a rather heartwarming detail.

Sidenote: has anyone given any thought to cliffs in this series? It only occurred to me recently how often they show up, often during character milestones. Here we have Ruby talking to Summer for the first time, her (bodiless) grave situated at the end of a cliff. The Beacon initiation involves chucking the kids off a cliff and seeing how they fare, an action that is the catalyst for the group's introductions/growing dynamics. Shooting Oscar off the edge of Atlas solidifies Ironwood's turn from anti-hero to outright villain. Though I'm far from a fan of this scene, Ruby's (ridiculous) near-fall off the cliff during the fight with Cordovin preludes her (supposed) growth in leadership as she stands up to Qrow. Penny lets herself fall from Amity after sacrificing herself to get it up into the air. Then, of course, we've got the girls falling off of Ambrosius' bridge, taking them to a world where - execution aside - the intention was for them all to go through major developments: Ruby is literally reborn, Jaune experiences a lifetime of struggle, Yang and Blake finally admit their feelings, and Weiss... gets over her whole country being destroyed?

Idk, we'll have to come back to that one.

I clearly don't have a big takeaway here, just the acknowledgement that this is a visual RWBY gravitates towards. Might do a whole side meta on it some day...

Anyway, as said we realize quickly this is Summer's grave with her name carved into the headstone along with "Thus kindly I scatter." Notably, she also has her rose motif there and it's likewise prominent on Ruby's belt in this scene. Looking back, we can see how RWBY did a better job at the start of sprinkling in these significant character details before, you know, dropping them completely and then attempting a rapid-fire resurrection. Meaning, I would have bought into the emotion of Ruby giving her pendant up in Volume 9 if we'd gotten these moments consistently throughout the story's run. It wouldn't take much, just a reminder every couple of episodes to maintain the momentum. Give Ruby a scene where she explains that this rose was left by Summer before she disappeared and she's treasured it ever since. Show a flashback where we learn that it was really left behind for both girls and Yang handed it down to Ruby when she was old enough to keep track of it. Give us a minor conflict where it's lost during battle and Ruby unnecessarily endangers herself in an attempt to retrieve it (perhaps in Volume 8, setting up that the object itself is not as important as the intangible love it represents). Hell, keep it lighthearted where Yang gets Ruby something rose related at the gift shop, Nora tucks a Rose into her hair while wandering the wilderness, Qrow gives the pendant a cheeky flick while talking about how Ruby's as stubborn as her mom. My point is there are a million ways the show could have built towards that scene in Volume 9 - ways like showing us that rose on Summer's gravestone - but the show dropped the ball halfway through.

Here and now though, Ruby begins catching Summer up on everything that's happened to her since she started Beacon, which serves as a useful way to catch the viewer up too - both those who, for whatever reason, may have started RWBY with Volume 3, and those who just need a hiatus refresher.

Ruby is delightfully awkward here, a personality trait that I think becomes more forced as the series goes on. She jokes that she hasn't gotten kicked out of Beacon yet - while doing that cute little rock on her heels thing - and says that she's able to "keep [Yang] in line" by being on the same team. She follows that up with, "...that was a joke" which is just quintessential Ruby to me. Love it.

She recaps that Yang has grown a lot as a fighter since Summer left, the rest of their team is made up of Blake and Weiss, together they form Team RWBY and yes, that's as confusing as it sounds. She's stopped bad guys and met some "odd" teachers, including Ozpin.

(THAT'S MY BOY!!!)

Looking back, this is actually a fascinating couple of lines. At least, I think they have the potential to be fascinating if RT had followed a clear writing path. Ruby wonders again why Ozpin let her into Beacon early, but shrugs it off under the assumption that he'll tell her one day. "You know how he is."

Yeah, I do, Ruby. Do you?

We already knew from their initial interaction that Ruby knew who Ozpin was - she recognizes him on sight - though him posing the question implies that he never visited Patch post-her birth. At least, not recently enough for Ruby to have formed a memory of them meeting. I can only assume then that she's heard enough about him from Tai and Qrow to a) be sure of his identity (any promotional material/news about Beacon would have helped with that too) and b) believes strongly that her impression of him formed since entering Beacon aligns with what her parents presumably said about him: "You know how he is." The fact that this is in reference to Ozpin's secret keeping makes me wonder how often that came up around the dinner table. Did Tai ever express frustration, a la Ironwood, that they're clearly being kept in the dark about things? Did Qrow ever dodge the girls' questions about where he's been because he can't be honest about his spy activities, aligning Ozpin's reputation with secrecy by virtue of working for him? The casualness with which Ruby shrugs off Ozpin's secrets to Summer heavily implies that Ozpin's cagey history is both well known to the family and accepted.

Honestly, I would have loved to see this woven into Ruby's core characterization, perhaps even an extension of her "simple soul." Give me a girl who is intrinsically accepting of people, including their need to keep certain things close to the chest. Teammate deliberately kept her faunus identity under wraps? Friend hides the fact that she's an android from the whole world? Ruby accepts them. Ruby gets it. The fact that Ruby does, canonically, accept their duplicity without so much as a blink is, I think, one of the reasons why I expected her of all people to be more sympathetic towards Ozpin's hidden identity. We can argue about the girls' right to the truth via participating in this war till the cows come home, but at the end of the day Ozpin's secrets are intrinsically tied up in his family, his history, and the trauma surrounding both. Let the others get mad, prioritizing information over personal motivations (that does fit their characterizations well, with Blake perhaps being an exception), but Ruby? The show has never been willing to commit to the kind of dark story that would result in a 180 character growth - endlessly forgiving protagonist becomes jaded and cynical as she experiences The Horrors - and little moments like this one further emphasize to me that Ruby, specifically Ruby, is uniquely suited to helping Ozpin not just fight, but finally finish this war. It should never have been (just) about her talent with a scythe, or even the rarity of Silver Eyes. The Gods wanted Ozpin to unite humanity and here's a young woman who unabashedly loves everyone that the world tends to despise: secret keepers and drunk uncles and faunus and Schnees and scary androids. Ruby should have been the emotional bridge!!

Okay, I swear I'm not going to make this series a rehash of my issues with the later Volumes lol. Inevitably some things are going to crop up though.

Moving on, Ruby mentions that Tai is here too and the viewer gets to see his avatar for the first time, albeit from a distance. In keeping Summer updated on her... husband? Wait, were they married? Well, in keeping her updated on her partner, Ruby says that, "He's, you know... Dad," which, unlike the Ozpin line, is just plain funny. Sure, most of her talk is very exposition-y and absolutely functions as a soft lead-in to new content, but that's not to say a story should ever put absurd dialogue in a character's mouth simply for the sake of the viewer. That is, Ruby should never say, 'Oh, Tai is here! You know, my Dad?' because the person she's talking to, Summer, knows damn well who Tai is. Television has actually gotten better about this as a whole. Once upon a time a medical drama would have the doctor yelling, 'Her skin is turning yellow - she's jaundiced! Her liver is failing!' to ensure that the viewer understood precisely what 'jaundiced' meant, never mind how absurd it was for a professional to be shouting that among their peers. (Granted, medical dramas as a whole are absurd. I say that with love.) Despite RT's general inexperience, RWBY belongs to an era of televised storytelling where leaving certain things unsaid is par for the course.

Here, the unspoken information is what it means for Tai to be, you know, Tai. We don't really know who Tai is yet- personality-wise, I mean - so Ruby's comment functions more as a way to set up our expectations rather than to connect with us in agreement. We now expect Tai to be the kind of guy who does things to make his teenage daughter sigh and go, 'That's Dad...' and we, presumably, look forward to seeing that.

Granted, the three things we do know about Tai at this point in the story consist of:

He's a fellow Huntsmen (which is an insane job)

He let his daughter join Beacon two years early to also become a Huntress (also kinda insane but I support him)

He maintains a relationship with said daughter and daughter Sr by sending them their dog in the mail (do I really need to say it?)

Based on that I suppose we can guess as to what Tai is like lol.

He calls Ruby away so they're not late for the match and she sends a last message to Summer over her shoulder: "It was good to talk." As we transition, a murder of crows flies across the sky. Or is it an unkindness of ravens? I can barely tell in real life, let alone when they're animated blobs, but either option works well enough given the upcoming revelation about the Branwen twins.

Cutting to the arena a little time in the future, the viewer is treated to some establishing shots that, while simple, are honestly pretty cool. I believe this is our first introduction to Atlas' floating environments and showing a bit of Beacon Academy in the background helps give us a sense of scale.

This event is clearly popular, with the stadium absolutely packed with people (even more are trickling in from ferrying ships) and, to RT's credit, they did a bit of work to convey diversity in this world. We see a decent variety of skin tones as well as faunus characteristics, to say nothing of the cool designs many of the competitors will get. Beyond the main cast still being overwhelmingly white, I'd say the biggest issue here is the lack of body diversity, what with everyone having the same, stick-thin figure. Yeah, RT is clearly using the same base model copied a hundred times and I'm very aware of their previous status as a small, independent company, but such visuals nevertheless stand out in a series that's been pushing a minority plotline for three seasons.

The camera swoops down to follow Team RWBY in the midst of a battle which, again, is staged in a way that's clearly meant to catch up/invite in new viewers. It's very trailer-esque as each shot lingers on Weiss, Blake, and Yang for a moment before finishing with Ruby, complete with a twirl of Crescent Rose. This is the show visually reminding you of what it's really about. Sure, we might have started with Ruby speaking peacefully by a grave, but at the end of the day RWBY is the story of a team engaging in combat situations.

Oobleck and Port are announcing the event and Oobleck throws out his standard "Doctor" when his title goes unacknowledged.

You know, I started RWBY nearly a decade ago. Four years ago I secured a PhD, so I feel that now.

Port provides another handy info dump for those "just now joining us." AKA the viewer who has no idea what a Vytal Festival is, but this is as good an excuse as any given that people are still entering the stadium. Simply put, all the Kingdoms' huntsmen schools are competing as teams first, then as duos, then as individuals to determine the final winner who will have achieved "victory for their kingdom!" Age and year are irrelevant, which makes perfect sense given the nature of RWBY's combat. You've got young prodigies like Ruby and people who sneak into Beacon like Jaune, and though the other schools/years probably don't have as much drama going on, the variety of semblances, weapons, dust use, and personal experience really makes this anyone's game. A first year might easily beat a fourth year if they won the genetic lottery with their semblance, or a student from School A might trounce someone their age from School B, depending on how much their school has sent them into real combat situations.

Given all that, I kinda wish the Festival had developed the other Kingdoms more, given that it's the perfect opportunity for the cultures to learn from one another and/or butt heads. In a perfect world, one where RT had some sense of where their story was going, I would have loved to see:

Strong development of Vacuo's citizens, especially given that it will be the focal point of Volume 10 and possibly the end of the series (if we ever get that...).

Though the gag that Weiss excepts strict, militaristic fighters from Atlas only to get Neon is funny, that 'Don't judge a book by its cover' lesson really doesn't align well with what Volume 7 and 8 try to push. Better, perhaps, to set up Atlas' dictatorship tendencies before swinging hard in that direction (and I'll get into how what we do see doesn't make the cut).

How Remnant's racism gets displayed in a highly public competition. Do Blake and the other faunus face more discrimination now that they're in the public eye? Do asshole citizens challenge wins because no way did a faunus beat that human?

How different schools approach training their huntsmen. Specifically, everyone seems to abide by the four-person team structure, so why would this competition eventually highlight duos and individuals? It seems counter to what Beacon, and by extension all the other schools, are trying to promote. This setup would make more sense if we were shown that different schools have radically different curriculum. Maybe it's eventually 1v1 because Vacuo's individualist, survival-based culture teaches huntsmen to fend for themselves; teammates are just another liability. Maybe Atlas, being militaristic, prizes safety in numbers and has students train in groups of six rather than four. Maybe Mistral is incredibly semblance-focused (a way to develop Neptune's phobia rather than just making it a gag; a fighter who can't or won't use their semblance is considered effectively useless) and if you can negate that aspect of their style somehow, you find they're lacking severely in weapon-based combat.

Again, I know that RWBY, particularly early RWBY, only had so much time per episode, but looking back it feels like there are a lot of missed opportunities in this world-watched event. None of this is even taking into account Cinder sneaking into the school, or Penny being outed as an android. If any RWBY rewriters are reading this, the Festival is a potential goldmine of characterization and cultural development. If you're going to write random RWBY books, write some about that!

One moment of cultural significance that is shown though is the Atlas security hovering around the arena. They mostly keep to the background, without any single appearance being obtrusive (yet). This is one of those moments where (some) fans look back and say, "See? Ironwood was always a controlling, military-obsessed bastard," but the reality is that this is incredibly tame by real world standards, to say nothing of the realities of RWBY's fantasy world. Regardless of how you feel about the, uh... motivations behind the security in your country (because that's a whole other conversation), you expect there to be some level of professional oversight when that many people are meeting in one place. That's a reality we have to work with, which includes all the potential pitfalls, biases, manipulations, and accidents that come with any large-scale endeavor. Toss in the fact that RWBY's security is designed to defend against man-eating monsters and I'm honestly surprised it isn't presented as dystopian here. Meaning, we easily could have been given a story where people are comparatively safe from grimm in modern day Remnant and the security functions primarily as outside control and/or a fear-mongering tactic. It's not that security is inherently unnecessary, but those walls have done a damn good job for the last generation or so, so why is James so insistent on populating this festival with his probably not-needed robots? Seems sus 🤔.

As it stands, grimm DO attack people on the regular (that was kind of a big part of last Volume's finale), security IS necessary (according to many other council professionals once James raises the issue), and it's arguably MORE necessary now - during the festival - because there are so many potentially negative emotions just waiting to crop up. Instead of "Seems sus," the reaction to having defensive robots around is more, "No duh." At the very least RWBY might have had the characters react to the security with suspicion/fear, even if that doesn't totally track with the rest of the worldbuilding, or better yet, demonstrate that there are major issues with AI leading the charge (robot mistakes kid in grimm mask for real grimm and fires a shot!). Granted, we get that through the hacking at the very end of the Volume, but here and now the Atlas ships seem to be used primarily for transporting viewers, the crowd is fully at ease with these guys, and — as we'll see later — the prospect of additional security in the form of AI is greeted with enthusiasm, not wariness, simply because it will keep real, breathing people off the front lines. Those are all important things to keep in mind when you consider whether a) The show took a very sharp turn in Volumes 7-8 or b) The show capitalized on a long established, slow burn plotline.

(Psst the answer is 'B')

ANYWAY, Oobleck is yelling about the "Spectacular spectacles on which to speculate on!" and I love him all the more. While he and Port narrate we get some non-animated shots of people viewing the Festival from around the world, though frankly it doesn't do much to help RWBY's worldbuilding. Some people watch the fights from a camper outside, others are in a minimalist apartment, still others are in what's basically a bar... if you're looking for intriguing backgrounds to drum up interest in the world outside of Beacon, you're not going to find it here. The presence of various faunus individuals is really the only thing that distinguishes these settings from a show based in the real world.

Onto the fighting! (It's about time :p) The girls are facing off against Team ABRN (pronounced "Auburn") from Haven and they're decent for a couple of one-off characters. I like the design of the girl with the skateboard - Reese - and how her weapon, the board itself, gives her a lot of flexibility in battle. Since it functions as a hoverboard she has a lot of maneuverability, she can use the board as a shield, a projectile, adapt its abilities via Dust, and - of course - she can pull both sides apart to duel wield the guns. Looking at all that flexibility, it is a little lame that she 'loses' that particular encounter with Blake by slipping on the ice, but then we're not really supposed to care about these characters. They exist solely to get us hyped for the battles to come and give a quick primer on how those battles will work. AKA, now we've learned that the battlefield itself has hazards the girls must circumvent.

Blake is cute here though. She's so concerned and I'm like yeah, girl, that looked like it hurt 😬

This whole exchange has that same vibe: one of casual playfulness, which makes perfect sense given that this is supposed to be a fun competition. They're exhibition matches, not real attempts to take the other team out (which is why Yang's supposed act later in the tournament will be seen as so heinous). The guy with the pink hair (Nadir) full on pouts when Ruby successfully traps him in a block of ice and, of course, we have the classic "Got your back!"/"My BFF!" lines in response. The girls are enjoying themselves and that's so damn wholesome to see after all the tragedies - plot and writing-wise - of the later Volumes.

Team ABRN are able to make a bit of a comeback and - *gasp* - the girls have to actually think creatively/combine techniques in order to get the upper-hand. Blake successfully tricks Reese with a clone and catches her in the midriff with a quickly timed ribbon, cleanly knocking her out of the ring. It's here that we learn a team member can be eliminated via leaving the bounds, or having their aura dip too low (remember when that was a thing?) I know I just said there's teamwork, and there absolutely is here, but it did stand out to me how Blake just like... disappears after this moment? I mean she comes back, but it's clear RT wanted each girl to have her moment in this battle, despite the fact that any member who successfully defeated their opponent would be rushing off to help the others. That should be a near defining win condition - defeat one opponent and suddenly it's a 2 vs 1 situation for someone else - but that expectation falls by the wayside until the fight's final moments.

It's a good fight though. Not the greatest by RWBY standards, but it was no hardship to rewatch for this recap either. Weiss pulls out an epic ice hand that ensnares two of the members, now rolling chaotically across the arena, and clearly she thinks this is the end of the fight. However, Arslan — the monk-type who favors hand-to-hand combat (or the one with the "Eastern martial arts influence" according to the RWBY wiki...)— simply rolls her eyes, plants her feet, and shatters the ball with a single hit. Gotta admit, it's pretty cool.

Of course, Team RWBY still comes out victorious in the end. With all of Team ABRN now in one place, the girls have one of those lovely mind-reading moments and pull off a coordinated attack, allowing Yang to sucker-punch them all out of the ring. Again, it's nice to see that kind of teamwork, as well as the adorable way they all stand there, mildly shocked that they won.

I'll take that over the brazen, cocky confidence they've gained any day.

The only thing I'm kinda iffy about regarding this fight is how Team ABRN feels a little less like a full-fledged team to me, and more like a faint Team RWBY echo. It's most noticeable in the Yang vs. Arslan sections where you've got two yellow-coded, hand-to-hand snarkers facing off. Blake and Reese both feel like the cool, alternative style members of their teams, and then you've got the Weiss-Ruby duo trying to overtake the Bolin-Nadir duo. It's admittedly a subtle familiarity that lessens with each example, but it stood out to me in the re-watch; like Team ABRN only exists to give Team RWBY someone vaguely similar to overcome. Which, granted, they do. These are not characters we're going to follow as the series progresses, so in most respects they've done precisely what they needed to do and in a way that looks cool and feels entertaining. So this isn't a criticism, really. More an acknowledgment that RWBY is a series with limits and if we want to know more about these characters/flesh them out beyond their paralleling characteristics, we'll have to do that ourselves in the fanfic.

As Ruby jumps into the air in a victory celebration, we PowerPoint slide cut to the festival later that day where she nearly collapses, asking if anyone else is starving.

Yeah, child. You just made it through a physically intensive battle in front of an audience while existing as a teenager. Of course you're hungry. Blake's stomach gives a giant, embarrassing growl in response and Weiss sarcastically bemoans the fact that there's nowhere to eat at the food-focused festival. Good times, good times.

Ruby: "It's okay, Weiss. I forget about the fair grounds too."

Before they can grab lunch though Weiss declines a call from her father and an old 'acquaintance' suddenly shows up.

Emerald.

You know, kudos to Katie here because Emerald's laugh and, "Good to see you, Ruby" sounds so fake to me now. It just oozes, 'I secretly hate you but am pulling out all my acting skills to convince you otherwise' energy. Obviously RWBY has a host of villains/antagonists that have done a plethora of heinous things, but there's something particularly skin-crawling to me about seeing Emerald in retrospect. Part of it is the deception. I don't know about anyone else, but I personally would prefer a villain who's upfront about their nature from the get-go, rather than one who pretends to be my friend before stabbing me in the back. The first scenario just lacks the same emotional punch, you know? Though the other part of it is, of course, knowing where everyone ends up. Beacon will fall. Ozpin will "die." Pyrrha will actually die, and our heroes will be sent out into a war they're in no way ready for. Yes, Salem is our ultimate Big Bad, yes Emerald has her sympathetic moments and does a heel-turn into "good guy" territory four Volumes from now... but I think the fandom often forgets that she willingly and actively participated in this horror show. This isn't someone just along for the ride because their crush manipulated them, this is someone with a working brain between their ears who has PLENTY of time to consider the ramifications of this and still went, "Yeah, I'll lie my way into orchestrating a massacre."

All this hindsight angst is interrupted by the joke (and I use that term with great reservation) that Ruby must have dropped her wallet because "Girl pockets are the worst!" Sorry, but that has such cis-guy-trying-to-relate-to-women-and-failing-miserably energy to me. Like yeah, I also hate the super small/outright fake pockets that they often sew into women's clothing and I too have smiled at women promoting pockets as part of their independent brands... but somehow hearing the RWBY writers reference it just doesn't land. It's not #problematic, just cringy.

Emerald butters them up a bit by complimenting their fighting and Weiss notes that they haven't seen Emerald's teammates in action yet. We cut to their battle where they dominate the other team, complete with a disguised Neo showing her real eye color before she knocks the competitor out. "[They did] really well," says Emerald in the fakest humble tone ever heard.

Ruby invites them all to lunch and Emerald - clearly horrified by the prospect - dodges by claiming that her teammates are too socially awkward for a meetup. In her defense, Mercury is in the process of randomly sniffing a boot, so although this is absolutely just an excuse, she's also not wrong. Like, at all lol.

Fishing for more info, Emerald asks who's moving onto the doubles round and it turns out that Team RWBY voted for Weiss and Yang. There are three things that I love about this moment:

They voted. Yes, Ruby cheekily tries to make it sound like this is all coming from her genius as team leader, but at the end of the day they decided as a team who would represent them. It's a small detail, but those stand out so much more now that we have Ruby vocally and angrily calling the shots.

(This is a ridiculous side-note I'm 99.9% sure I've mentioned before, but every time I talk about Ruby's intense form of "leadership" in the latter Volumes, I'm reminded of Rick's, "This is not a democracy!" in The Walking Dead. If you know, you know.)

They chose Weiss and Yang. From both an in-world and meta perspective, it's actually a little surprising that Ruby isn't representing them. As established, she's team leader. The team is named after her. She's the protagonist of the show. She's also, canonically, a prodigy wielding an insanely deadly weapon. Yet it's refreshing as a viewer to have a new duo taking the spotlight and within the story-world this choice reinforces Point #1: They're a team and no matter how individually talented any one member may be - or even what titles they hold - they are, at the end of the day, all on equal footing. Why shouldn't Yang and Weiss represent?

The way they both respond to this reveal is dang cute. Weiss' "I will happily represent Team RWBY" while curtseying to Emerald vs. Yang's "Yeah! We're gonna kick some butt!" while slamming her fists together. It's a great contrast and shows why these two might have been chosen. Though powerful on their own, their styles and personality are different enough to compensate for any flaws.

With all that out of the way Emerald rejoins Mercury and her smile immediately drops. She's disgusted at having to get all buddy-buddy with them, but "Orders are orders." She has this classic villain moment where she expresses shock over how they're just so happy all the time and I'm like oh, honey. Darling. Morally misaligned baby girl. Just give it a few Volumes.

We cut to Team RWBY at lunch and aRE THE BOWLS SUPPOSED TO BE THAT BIG?

I recalled that they were big as a visual gag, but not half the girls' size. Honestly? Great choice. I too want to live in a world where you can get insanely giant noodles a millisecond after you order them.

Deviating from the others, Blake nods at the seller dude and receives an equally giant bowl filled with fish. You know, I really wish RWBY had done something with the faunus' animal traits rather than turning them into an endless joke. The concept of a god merging humans with literal animals and then, generations down the line, cat-people being influenced by cat instincts as well as human instincts (because remember, we're animals too) is actually really interesting to me... but navigating the racial implications of that takes a level of nuance that RWBY was never interested in exploring. So we're just left with a Blake who is fish obsessed and chases laser pointers and hates dogs and we're supposed to laugh at all that, rather than buying into her teachings that many people use these traits to dehumanize the faunus.

Anyway, Weiss shows off a bit and pays for all their food. At least, she tries to. Turns out her card has been declined, which is more than a little confusing to her given that she was "barely into [her] monthly allowance." Hmm, could that possibly have anything to do with her ignoring her father's phone calls? Surely no one knows.

Luckily, Pyrrha shows up and offers to pay instead (it's nice having a famous BFF, huh?), but like... what were the girls' initial plans? None of them were expecting Weiss to pay, yet they act like Pyrrha is saving the day by showing up, implying that they don't have the money to cover their meal. The shop guy even takes Blake's fish away, leaving her despondent. So what? Were they planning to eat and just worry about the bill later? Actually, that sounds exactly like something these chaotic preteens would do lol. Yang especially. She was introduced while "buying" a drink before destroying the whole dang bar.

Speaking of teenagers, they all finish their bowls with the kind of appetite only seen in 14-71yos. Although, it was a near thing for Jaune. He's very close to barfing (callback!) and Nora encourages him to "aim it at the enemy!"

She continues ragging on him for a bit, failing to come up with any compliments while hyping up her team. Pyrrha is a world-renowned fighter, Ren is basically a ninja, she can bench five of herself, and Jaune is... Jaune. Nora also doesn't include him in her secondary list which implies that Jaune a) hasn't trained as much (or, more realistically, hasn't gotten as much out of it) as the others, b) doesn't possess an "awesome" weapon, and c) is still frequently yelled at by Glynda.

Poor Jaune. I don't say that very often anymore, but he's going through it here lol.

All of this leads to Nora spiraling at the possibility of them losing. This includes the oh-so-causal drop that she and Ren "have no parents and no home left to go to" which is a HELL of a thing to throw out in a comedically framed breakdown. I mean, being orphans is sad enough, but "no home left to go to" won't be explained until we learn that their town was basically wiped off the map, so damn.

Team RWBY reassures them that a fight with actual rules is nothing compared to what they've already been through. You know, the murderers, extremists, and sociopaths. "Oh," gushes Ruby, "imagine what it'll be like when we graduate!"

As Port and Oobleck call Team JNPR to the arena for their match we cut to Emerald and Mercury settling in to enjoy the festivities. In retrospect, this right here is a really nicely composed shot:

It tells us that Emerald is serious about going through with this destruction (again, she's no manipulated damsel), but she's not getting the same personal enjoyment out of it like Mercury is, as showcased by the smirk. The focus remains on them with Team RWBY framed in between. This is the villains' Volume. They're going to win. Our eyes follow the soon-to-be champions not of the festival, but the battle, while our heroes are literally and metaphorically trapped between them. Finally, Yang is the only one who looks back. We won't know this for several episodes, but she's at the heart of their plan and has every reason to cast the almost-but-not-quite-worried glance over her shoulder. Subtle foreshadowing, how I love thee.

It's shit like this that makes my brain go, "It used to be good! RWBY used to be fun AND occasionally insightful! Those overworked animators were uplifting a mediocre story and the result was good!!!"

As they take their seats who should show up but Cinder, casually using her semblance to pop a kernel of popcorn (power move). "Even if you know how a story ends," she says, "that doesn't make it any less fun to watch." True that! I mean, she's talking about knowing that Team JNPR will be moving on because they need Pyrrha to murder Penny, but I agree with the sentiment outside of that context.

Actually, do they ever explain how they manipulated the fights? I mean, they obviously entered and are winning their own battles and we know that Mercury will be staging his injury with Yang... but here Cinder makes it sound like she's pulling strings in every match. Toss that onto the list of development I would have liked for this Volume: what precisely are they doing behind the scenes? I'll have to pay careful attention going forward to make sure I don't miss anything because right now all I can recall is them looking at Penny's blueprints (presumably obtained via Watts).

Team JNPR's area is randomized into a forest and mountainous land before the battle commences. We end on that cliffhanger, complete with the superhero-esque freeze shot.

And that concludes the first episode of Volume 3! As well as my first recap in a long while. If you've followed me at all you'll know that work has been my personal Big Bad the last two-ish years. Given the scope of my responsibilities and the energy they extract, I simply don't have the time or means to write the way I used to. However, I feel like if I can muster up the willpower to finish this on tonight of all nights (people reading from the future: check the posting date and you'll understand), then I must be getting a little better at carving out writing time in my hectic schedule. All hail self-improvement!

On that positive note, everyone have a wonderful night. Or at least try to. Seriously. Text a loved one, treat yourself to a favored snack, do something that feels fulfilling. Take some deep breaths and I'll see you for the next one.

~Clyde❤️

#RWBY #RWDE #RWBY Recaps #RWBY meta #mymetas

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hvartofglass · 3 months ago

Note

Dear BAE YUNHEE,

You are cordially invited to a private gathering this Sunday, the 21st of July. It is a dinner among old friends, and it will be just like old times. The dinner will be held at Shin Junpyo’s mansion on Jeju Island. Dinner will be served strictly at 7.30pm. Your attendance is expected by 6pm.

Don’t be late.

P.S. Do yourself a favor and burn this letter once you have read and understood the terms. We don’t want to piss the alums off, now do we?

Best regards,

YOUR QUEEN, 2019

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗔 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗘𝗧 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗫 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗨𝗡𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗗, was that even too much of her to ask for? yunhee clicks her tongue in annoyance as she now leans against the the side of the porcelain-hewn bathtub, her arms folded against the surface whilst her wet fingertips gently traced the invitation paper with a vague sense of disdain. her master suite bathroom was entirely shrouded by the quietude and the air fragrant with the scent of roses and oat milk, but even the perfumed distractions couldn't stop her own mind from wandering back to anguishing memories that never should have been reawakened in the first place.

as she placed the ivory note back onto the wooden tray, yunhee lay back and rest her head against a folded towel, trying to go back to luxuriating herself in the relaxing bath she was having. she could almost sink into the tranquil silence underneath the bathwater, washing all the worries and thoughts she'd been having. but yunhee knew too well it wouldn't do her any good for her trying to ignore both the situation and the invitation at hand. warm water splashes in lively ebbs and flows around her as she reluctantly got up from the tub, reaching for a cotton bathrobe and wrapped it around her petite physique.

a curious bounce embellished her quiet footsteps as she took the ivory letter from the bathtub tray before she meandered across the bathroom into her bedroom. with puerile curiosity, does yunhee finally read the letter and memorized its every words, letting them embedded into her mind. to think this is how min jihye decides to come back into her life again, by sending her a measly invitation to a dinner party with the rest of the king's club members after the two former best friends have already went years with barely any form of communication between them. yunhee simply scoffed in indignation at the audacity. as if it wasn't enough that it had been an agonizingly arduous process, to collect all the jagged pieces of her fragmented heart in order to start anew after what had transpired, to try and be whole again ⸻ yet here, once more, she's being dragged into a gathering with the very group of people who all contributed to her misery.

arrayed in nothing but her bathrobe, yunhee made her way downstairs into the living room of her penthouse where it was dimly lit, casted by the flickering flames of the fireplace. she stood in front of the heart, reading the invitation and it's details for one final time before yunhee crouches downwards in one deft movement. eventually, she let the paper slipped from her hands, and watches as it fluttered for one moment before it eventually got caught in the updraft of the heat. the soft, rhythmic sound of logs settling and the gentle murmur of the flames as the ivory note was slowly devoured by the flickering fire does nothing to soothe the dread that slowly filled her whole chest.

HEADCANNONS & TIMELINE : THE DINNER PARTY OF JULY 21, 2024

as one can imagine, yunhee wasn't exactly the happiest when she received the invitation, especially when its was supposedly min jihye, her estranged and former best friend of all people who invited her. she can't even have the pleasure of rejecting the invitation as it is a king's club's gathering and unfortunately for her, because she's a member — her attendance was mandatory.

05.45PM — yunhee decided to come to mansion earlier than its expected time because while she may hate the king's club gatherings with every fiber of her existence, she isn't really one to be late and wasn't about to break her own streak of being punctual at events because of her own petty resentment.

06.00PM — she noticed the all too familiar uniforms and settings around the mansion earlier on. it unnerved her, as expected — as just the sight of how everything in her surroundings bears an extremely close and uncomfortable resemblance to that of midas resort where it only brought up awful memories of that fateful night.

for the next hour and so, yunhee decided to wait around pergola and the library before eventually making her way to the veranda. all whilst trying to avoid most of the king's club's members because she really wasn't in a mood to talk nor handle any of them.

07.15PM — when she arrived on the veranda, yunhee noticed too quickly that tian and sunyoung were having an extremely heated argument, catching only bits of the conversations until tian suddenly fell into the pool. she would have laugh at the sight of tian being absolutely drenched and the situation at hand, if only she didn't noticed a strange floating device in the pool nearby. when she finally realized how the floating toy looked eerily like a body and who exactly did it resemble to, her blood immediately run cold. faltering at the sight, yunhee managed fall back onto the floor before screaming in terror.

THE AFTERMATH : yunhee was absolutely inconsolable after witnessing the cruel joke. whoever organized this dinner made a mockery out of him, made a mockery out of her again. and she's once again reminded by the fact how the king's club have always loved turning her into some kind of a tragic joke once more. she refused to let anyone other than intae and aera to come near her, and refused anyone else's attempt at trying to comfort her after that whole spectacle.

07.30PM — by the time dinner was served, yunhee was practically catatonic. she was barely responsive to anyone during the dinner, having only picked at her meal while the rest of the gathering ate their shares in uncomfortable silence. but members of 2019 knew too well that only meant that yunhee was a ticking bomb, having already experienced the many times of the calm before the storm before yunhee's own outbursts and that it was only a matter of time before the bomb denotes and she explodes, burning everyone and the mansion along with her. ( and with that said, this is an invitation for anyone who wants drama and a fight! let yunhee fight your muse! let her fight! )

#cm:sink #TIMELINE : 2024 #once again fae has failed big time at restraining herself #sorry i just really wanna write scene like this LMAO #ANYWAY!#it took me awhile but here's the headcanons!#if anyone is interested in writing for the 2024 #i be more than happy to volunteer!

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runraerun · 8 days ago

Text

ao3 • 6.1k • @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: “Where did you find that costume?” • beta: @netflixandchilis 🧡🖤

Summary:

“This is not a sex costume.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me of—”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.

His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.

Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddie’s Halloween party dressed as a stripper.

*Knock knock knock*

Steve steps back from Eddie’s front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasn’t fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailer—he’s done it before after all, but sue him; he’s feeling playful tonight. And if there’s one night a year you’re allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, it’s Halloween, right?

Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitter…

He’d just finished dropping the kids all off at Henderson’s house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steve’s fucking exhausted.

When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.

“Hawkins PD, open up,” he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.

Steve’s skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.

Cheap ass costume…

The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailer’s interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.

Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.

“Got a couple of noise complaints, ma’am. Are your folks home? I’m gonna need—”

Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, “Wait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.”

The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but can’t make out much of the muffled voices after that.

Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve can’t help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasn’t that convincing… was it?

“Man, c’mon…” Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. He’s very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots he’d been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddie’s lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.

“C’mon, open up, Hawkins Police.” Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.

In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, it’s Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.

Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair he’s got taped to his face. He can’t wait to rip the damn thing off.

Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.

“Sir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?” Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona he’s decided to adopt.

“What the–” Eddie starts, but doesn’t seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.

Steve’s putting on a good show, it seems.

“Because it’s a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.” Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, “I could have you arrested.”

Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. It’s an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honest—he’s just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?

“Shteve, where in the fresh hell…?” A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddie’s got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. “Is that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devil’s lettuce in there?”

Robin sounds like she’s choking on something, Nancy’s all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but he’s not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit he’s doing wasn’t even all that funny, even he can admit that. It’s just dorky fun. But Eddie’s shoulders are shaking and he’s giggling hard enough that he’s gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his face…? Besides the stache, of course.

A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.

“Alright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.” But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

“Slow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,” Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, “Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re gonna get the actual cops called on us.”

Sargent Cinnamon?

Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. “What? Why?”

“Just—just turn around for me for a minute.” Eddie says. His hand falls from Steve’s chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.

“Yeah, give us a spin, Steve.” Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.

“Why?” Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.

“We just have to confirm something.” Eddie says, playing coy.

Now that Steve’s really looking at him, he can see Eddie’s clearly dressed as a vampire. He’s all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape that’s tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup that’s smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.

He looks… good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky too…

“C’mon, just let me in. I don’t wanna spin.” Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.

Eddie’s brows pinch together in mock sympathy, “oh, I’m so sorry Officer, but in that case, we’re gonna need you to come back with a warrant.”

Steve sighs. He’s cold, annoyed, and he’s pretty sure there’s two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels that’ll need patching up before the night is out. “Dude–”

Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, “ah ah ah. You don’t get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.”

Steve’s brain stutters to a halt. “...I’m just dressed as a cop. What’s the big deal? Why’re you guys acting so weird?”

“Less yapping, more spinning, Deputy.” Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. It’s like a trap—one Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.

He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. “There. Happy? Any more questions or demands?”

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. “Where did you find that costume?”

Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. “Just a regular costume store.”

“What store exactly?” Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, “was there, oh, I don’t know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?”

And with that, there’s simply no helping it; Steve’s face goes scarlet. “No! It was just that pop-up Halloween store—the one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, what’s the big deal?”

“Did you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?” Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.

Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but… thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.

Oh God…

“There’s that lightbulb,” Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, “knew it would turn on eventually.”

Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. They’re just poking fun at him, surely. If he’s being honest, he’s sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. It’s like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!

If he didn’t know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently they’ve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. It’s like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.

“This is not a sex costume.” he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice goes soft, as if he’s opting to break the news to Steve gently, “you’re dressed as a stripper, man.”

“No, I’m not!” Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, “It’s just… I’m just a cop. Okay, maybe it’s a sexy cop, but it’s just a stupid joke costume! It’s not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesn’t make it a stripper outfit.”

Eddie nods empathetically, “right right, sure.”

“It’s true!”

“Totally, yeah.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Oh, I know you are.”

“It’s just a little tight is all.”

“I’ll say.”

Steve huffs, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me of–”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.

The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesn’t hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steve’s ass cheeks.

Either way, he’s standing there, on the Munson’s front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap he’s got resting atop his head.

Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way he’s basking in Steve’s utter humiliation. “Well well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?”

Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.

“Wh–Why would you do that!?” Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.

“Honestly? Because I don’t have a lot of impulse control,” Eddie admits truthfully, “but mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.”

Steve’s had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, he’s freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.

“Don’t tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.” Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steve’s costume.

Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. He’s sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!

He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!

“You did.” Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. “You really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkin’s a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!”

“No, I–” Steve sputters, “well, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasn’t any kind of show.”

“Were the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?” Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. “Did they give you extra candy?”

“One, I didn’t go trick-or-treating, so I didn’t get any candy at all,” Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! “And two, I didn’t know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.”

Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steve’s as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didn’t bear witness to his great blunder.

“Didn’t it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?” Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.

“Well, in hindsight… yes.” Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, “but I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!”

“Oh, Steve.” Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.

“Sweet, naive Dingus.” Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.

So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of ‘em, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.

“C’mon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.” Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. “Unless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?”

That’s the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddie’s offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddie’s unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.

Steve notices that Eddie’s oddly quiet now that they’re alone.

Steve was sort of used to Eddie’s constant prattling on when they were together—so much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. It’s damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.

Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. “Here, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.”

“Thanks.” Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.

He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.

Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.

“Oh, sure, now you’re shy.” Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. “Shit, shit, shit–”

“What is it? What happened?” Eddie’s full attention is back on Steve, and Steve’s insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.

And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but… it’s different with Eddie. Even Steve’s not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel… seen, maybe. Special. Understood?

Steve doesn’t fucking know. He gives his head a shake.

“It’s just these stupid boots. I’ve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldn’t have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...” Steve explains, as if it’s a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until it’s propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, “they’re just stinging a little, it’s fine.”

“I’ll get some band-aids.” Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, what’s new? Dude is tornado incarnate.

By the time Eddie’s back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steve’s already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. He’s poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.

“Here.” Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.

Which sounds harsh even in Steve’s own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as time’s gone on, and the further Steve’s gotten away from high school, the more he’s realized that his favorite people in the whole world—the ones he’d lay down his life for any day of the fucking week—are all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldn’t he be proud to be counted among them?

Steve finds he doesn’t entirely hate the concept.

“You must think I’m a moron, huh?” Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.

“For getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?” Eddie asks, grinning. Knows he’s being a cheeky little shit.

Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “it could’ve happened to anyone, y’know. The costume thing, I mean.”

He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.

“Maybe. But it’s funny because it happened to you.” Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.

“I don’t, though, by the way.” The couple of words tumble out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isn’t following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. “Think you’re a moron, I mean. You’re just… more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesn’t make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.”

“Foolhardy?” Steve’s hands stop what they’re doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steve’s pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?

Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddie’s inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.

“It’s a good thing—well, it is when I say it…” Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, “whatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“I know what foolhardy means I just–” Steve doesn’t have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. “Fuuuuuck…” he groans as he pulls.

“Stop, stop, just–” Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steve’s boot.

“No no, Eddie, don’t–!” Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddie’s jumpy, erratic movements he’s known for. His foot can’t fucking take it…

“Calm down, I’ll pull it off slow. I’ll even give you a countdown. You just–just relax, alright?” Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddie’s fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steve’s skin heats underneath Eddie’s hold. It’s enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.

Trying to follow Eddie’s instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddie’s grip. “Relax. Right. Okay.”

“Alright. My safe word’s Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?” Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else… And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steve’s hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spiders…

A beat passes before Steve’s brain catches up with him. “Why the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?”

“Because nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.” Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with things like safe words and… well, the things that normally go along with safe words.

He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actually…

“Ready?” Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. He’s cradling Steve’s booted foot, one hand low on Steve’s calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.

Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. “Ready.”

“3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!” Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steve’s heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. “Aaaaand we’re done!” Eddie says triumphantly.

Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. He’s built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if it’s something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesn’t care.

When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. “Y-you don’t gotta do that part–”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. “It’s okay, I wanna help.”

“My feet probably fucking reek, dude. I’ve been wearing those all day.” Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesn’t sit right with Steve. “You don’t–... I-I can do this part.”

“I told you, I don’t care.” Eddie says as he peels away Steve’s sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.

Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steve—to say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steve’s heel.

“Unless,” Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, “unless you don’t want me to.”

The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if they’re both just realizing that they don’t really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they don’t know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. It’s a little uncomfortable, sure, but… exciting, in a weird way.

Steve swallows, “no, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. I—”

I like it when you touch me.

The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second he’s not sure if he’s said it out loud or not.

But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesn’t let on.

Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.

Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steve’s blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasn’t got a clue.

There’s something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle… almost sweet person. It’s hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesn’t show the second side nearly as often as the first–and only to a lucky handful of people. Steve’s one of those happy few.

It’s like a secret Eddie.

Steve briefly wonders if there’s a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling he’s more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean he’s shallow.

And just when Steve thinks Eddie’s done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steve’s foot for him.

Which…

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But there’s more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. It’s that same sort of feeling. Only more.

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than he’s feeling. Because… Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. It’s been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. He’s always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.

But here’s Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. He’s still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve can’t wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steve’s chest ache, fixing to burst.

“No problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.” Eddie’s tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steve’s feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but they’re comfortable enough and blissfully warm.

“Well the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.” Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddie’s energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when they’re strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.

“Christ, you’re cute.” Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing he’s done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what he’d just said.

Eddie thinks he’s cute?

The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of things—from puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didn’t mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddie’s just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when he’s high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, but—well, Eddie always smells like weed.

“Here’s your–” Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling he’s got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddie’s blushing by the way he’s holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve can’t be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, “sorry, man.”

It’s said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isn’t usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesn’t—can’t leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not—it’s whatever, dude.” Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.

Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve says, quick, casual-like.

Eddie chews on his lip. “I didn’t make it weird?”

At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but… well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.

And Steve likes Eddie’s flavor of weird anyway.

“Hey, I’m the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didn’t I? If anyone’s made it weird tonight, it’s me.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.

Eddie’s wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. “That’s true.” He chuckles.

“I like your costume though.” Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. “Vampire, right?”

If possible, Eddie’s eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.

“That’s Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.” Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Steve pretends to cower, but he’s always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. “Terrifying. If you hadn’t torn it off me earlier, I’m sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.”

And again, it’s enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“C’mon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.” Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. It’s sort of adorable.

It’s profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.

Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. There’s some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.

Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steve’s not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is… it’s nice.

And when there’s a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but it’s the damnedest thing. Even after the joke’s over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just… doesn’t take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.

They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesn’t risk putting his hand over top of Eddie’s—he can’t. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddie’s warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.

It’s hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steve’s ever had—but it’s also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.

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royalarchivist · 10 months ago

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Pac: I wish I had a really nice background story for my- why I'm here. But you know, Felps just crashed the ship and I'm stuck! Fit: You've got an interesting history though, Pac! I mean, look at you escaping that prison! Like, that was not easy for you to do. [...] You've told me lots of stories about yourself and Mike's adventures. You've got a very interesting backstory. Pac: Thank you Fit, thank you. I'm glad to hear that you think it's cool. Fit: I mean– the cannibalism part, that sucks, but it is– It's cool! It's cool.

People keep wondering when Pac's going to tell Fit how he lost his leg, but during their date last week, Fit implied that their characters already had this discussion! Although this could've been an OOC part of their conversation, they've referenced this specific part of Pac's lore in past streams (this is just the most explicit example we've had so far).

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

–

Pac: I wish I had a really nice- um, background story - background story for my- why I'm here. But you know, Felps just crashed the ship and I'm stuck!

Fit: [Chuckles] Well no- you've got an interesting history though, Pac! I mean, look at you escaping that prison! Like, that was not easy for you to do.

Pac: ...No, yeah, you're right.

Fit: You know, and you've been- you have- you've told me lots of stories about yourself and Mike's adventures, like– You've got a very interesting backstory.

Pac: Thank you Fit, thank you. I'm glad to hear that you think it's cool.

Fit: I mean, I mean– the cannibalism part, I mean, that sucks, yeah, but it is– It's cool! It's cool.

Pac: Yeah, right? Yeah- that's- that's not a good part, right? Yeah, I- ugh, yeah, it's a– [He takes a deep breath] Yeah. It's ok.

Fit: Y-yeah, yeah...

Pac: It's ok.

#Hideduo #Pactw #FitMC #QSMP #FitPac #January 9 2024 #I was like ''???'' when I didn't see anyone else talking about this but tbf a LOT happened that day #So this is just me dusting dirt off this gem of lore and polishing it before presenting it to the community for re-inspection #<- can you tell I'm writing this in the early AMs #I'm falling asleep at my desk #Q #Anyways. Fit is so lucky Pac's got... interesting taste in men #''Cool trauma bro!'' are you INSANE #I can't remember how chat reacted but I was screaming #lmfaooo #Pac and Fit are so awkward and I find that hopelessly charming #Even if it makes me want to hide my face in my hands and scream #frickin. ''cool trauma bro'' FitMC you're so lucky he loves you #ALSO has anyone else noticed Pac almost always looks down at his leg whenever they bring up the topic of what happened to him in prison?#It's such a small little character trait but I LOVE it #The attention to detail!!! I love it!!!!#Pac's such a good roleplayer

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acommonanomaly · 8 months ago

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Maedhros and Maglor for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo swallowed hard. It was disconcerting to be so near one of the Powers. Though he had been taught that the Valar loved Eru’s Children, he could not help but be aware that such a being could reach out and crush him or one of his family if it so desired.

Oromë’s head turned to Maitimo suddenly, as though he knew his thoughts, but the Vala only blinked his bright yellow eyes, watching Maitimo curiously for a long moment before turning back to Atar and Amil.

Makalaurë had squeezed his hand hard when Oromë glanced over, and Maitimo looked down to see that his little brother’s face was pale with fear. Despite this, Makalaurë moved around so that he was standing in front of Maitimo, as if to shield his older brother with his slender frame. Maitimo wanted to whisper reassurances to him, but he did not want to draw the Vala’s attention again, so he settled for lifting Makalaurë into his arms.

Makalaure’s thin arms wrapped firmly around his neck, nearly choking him, but he could feel the frantic beat of his brother’s heart against his own chest, so he did not try to loosen his hold.

“What is his name?” Oromë asked in a voice that was both as deep as thunder and as soft as a breeze. The air shook with it but quickly settled.

“He will be called Turkafinwë,” Atar said, an arm now around Amil’s shoulders.

Maitimo was amazed when Oromë stooped down and lifted a hand toward Amil’s belly. He glanced between Amil and Atar and asked, “May I?”

Atar gave a curt nod, holding himself proudly, but Amil smiled when she nodded her consent.

Maitimo took a step closer, but he stopped when Makalaure twisted around with a fearful lurch to see what was happening.

The Vala spoke again, his voice quieter this time, so that it seemed as if whisper wound around whisper, only hinting at words beneath the hiss of the sound. Then the Vala smiled wide.

“His spirit is fierce and bright like wildfire,” Oromë said, looking pleased as he stood, towering above them again.

Amil looked like she did not know what to think of this pronouncement, but Atar raised his eyebrows a little, and Maitimo wondered what he would say.

“He is my son. My fire burns in him as it does in my other sons, and as it will in all of my children.”

“Yes,” Oromë said. His smile did not fade, though his eyes changed somehow, as though seeing something not here. Maitimo had seen this look on his mother’s face before, and it always unsettled him when she fell into solemn contemplation afterward.

#tolkien #feanorianweek #the silmarillion #maedhros #maglor #my art #feanorianweek 2024 #what fades away #I'm disappointed I only managed to get 4 drawings done #i might still try to make some more before feanorian week is over #but I'm so drained and so busy #I guess we'll see #i love these boys so much #i really want to start writing What Fades Away again #i'm just wondering if anyone is still interested in reading it #as it's been a long time since i posted the last chapter #i need motivation

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necrotic-nephilim · 4 months ago

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i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

#dicktim #timdick #batcest #necrotic festerings #necrotic works in progress #dicktim week 2024 #fandom event #this will be written i've just got a pile of things before it.#i'm mostly posting it so i don't fucking forget about it #i'm also interested in some of the other prompts #day 2 is full of goodies. and day 7.#but the other prompts are probably ideas that'll be shorter and quicker #this one i feel. if i rlly fucking ran with it. could go on to be a novella length idea.#idk how long it'll get when i write it #but there will be smut this i promise you #also i'm respectfully begging y'all pls don't do hades/persephone myth discourse on this post #i really *don't* care if you like romantic retelings i promise. they're just not my vibe #and i also promise i am *incredibly* well read on this myth #if you try to give me the “well in some versions-” argument i'm *going* to get incredibly boring with so many sources.#like i will go step by step through every ancient version of this myth.#i save that discourse for spiritual spaces tho so pls don't drag it here i will combust #anyway making jason the demeter stand in is funny bc greek mythos also does do the incest pretty hard #so like. it still works. it's funny #how long will this take i honestly cannot tell you #depends on if i cave and bump it up in the queue bc it's behind like. four fics i'm so sorry.#but you're welcome to send asks or whatnot to shout at me about this idea and 'yes and' me #that applies to any of my ideas anyone is welcome to 'yes and' that shit #it delights me dearly.#my sole hang up on this rn is how godly do i make it. do i give them powers. or do i just make it vaguely inspired by the myth.#both are fun for their own reasons.

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cupidskissx · 1 year ago

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✨Azerbaijan Abnegation✨

Monaco Malaise Part 2

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Max Verstappen

Word count: 16,976

Chapters: 2/2

Warnings: Angst, Conflicted Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, Fluff if you squint

Summary:

Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.” Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement.

They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room…

Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

Chapter 2:

This week has been correction after correction, managing the fierce oscillation between wanting Charles and wanting to stop wanting him, and now he has his arms full of opposite lock. Charles, yet again, has a front row seat to watch Max spin out of control towards the barriers.

Authors note:

Technically I’ve been working on Part 2 since June last year. After failing miserably writing it in Charles’ POV I abandoned it. Then I started to re-work this fic back into Max’s POV in October.

To see it finally posted in honour of Monaco, and Monaco Malaise, makes me a little emotional, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

Read on Ao3

The intention is to one day write the Part 3 I’ve had in my head since June last year, but that’ll be a long way away. I hope to see you back here for a refresher if I ever manage to finish it. As always, you're welcome to dive into my DMs so we can swoon over Lestappen together!

#this was a long time coming #thanks for being patient anyone who was waiting for this x #I really do hope you enjoy it!#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #Azerbaijan Abnegation #Temptation’s Trajectory #Monaco Malaise Part 2 #fic #2021 Azerbaijan GP #will I still be writing about the 2021 season in 2024 #most likely #almost certainly #hope you’re still interested in part 3 by then

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alien-girl-21 · 7 months ago

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Čakava tiho, da se nekej dogodi

“Do you think someone will ever love me?” He asked before thinking, freezing up when his brain realized what he had said. “People do love you, right now, the guys love you, I love you.” Not like that, he thought. - Bojere week day 4: AU free space

Testing the waters with this AU that hasn't left my mind for ages 🥰

#anyways if anyone is interested in it send me an ask i am more than happy to explain wtf is going on here #because oh boy there sure is a lot going on here #alien writes #käärijä #joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #bojere #bojere week 2024

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a-gay-bloodmage · 7 days ago

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Day 31: Landmark

(Morrigan x Orest Mahariel and Past Tamlen x Orest Mahariel)

Back in the Brecilian forest, Orest Mahariel tells his new friends about the places he remembers from his childhood. Some landmarks bring back good memories, some bad, and yet they all seem to be tainted by a sadness he can’t bring himself to speak about.

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bunnyinatree · 8 months ago

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Alright, fellas, I'm getting back to work on my original story! 🥳 That one edited dril tweet about adding 0 words to a WIP day in and day out and wondering why your story isn't progressing got to me... I'm going to make a habit of writing again, at least three times a week C:

#you know how anxiety about not writing builds and builds and you feel increasingly guilty for not honing your craft more?#but then you sit down and write for one hour and you're like: instant relief why didn't i do this sooner?#this is my 2024 goal! i AM going to finish this original story and share it with my friends!!#(those who want to read it of course i am not going to force anyone to do)#(i already have a couple of people in mind because i value their insight ^_^ and they've expressed interest in this story before!)#bunny babbles

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gayfranzkafka · 9 months ago

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The Nisenan tribe in my local area has the opportunity to purchase 232 acres located on a historic Nisenan Village site called Yulića, but they have a limited time (until April 4, 2024) to raise the needed funds. You can learn more about the fundraiser and donate here.

Especially if you have ever enjoyed any of my writing, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Aren't Dead, it would mean the world to me if you'd consider donating what you're able.

I'm also happy to take commissions and donate the funds in full to the fundraiser or to write anyone who sends me proof of their donation oneshots upon request; dm me or send me an ask if you're interested!

Reblogs are appreciated to spread the word. Thank you <3

#i have like no followers since remaking my blog & this is the only time i've regretted that lol so reblogs are appreciated thank you #also i realize sharing this info pinpoints the general area where i live so everyone be cool about having that info thanks 🙏🏻

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 months ago

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A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.

Eric remembered that.

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.

Shit, were you supposed to say something?

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled.

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

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