#this is why i have ed habits

[abominableredsweater]

my mom looked at my stomach n said i need to do some planks .. ima go jump now guys

[eclaire-went-bam]

1500 CALORIES ISN'T A LOT ????

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[selfmedblves]

having a perfectionist parent as a mentally ill teen puts your life in hardcore mode instantly

[lucysweatslove]

10.31.2023 // On names and generally feeling like my corporeal form is not me.

So, I'm organizing a group gift for one of our instructors. She's wonderful, so we wanted to give her a thank-you gift that involves giant plushies (a giant heart that has attached blood cells that hide away + an immunoglobulin that has a detachable antibody). Anyway, of course people have to address me somehow. I'm usually quite quiet, but organizing something means more talking + more addressing.

Everybody addresses me the way I've asked. Which is simply a shortened form of my legal name, Lex. The OGs know that Lucy is not connected to my legal name, really, other than having the same first letter. I went by Lexie for years (also not my legal name but a shortened version), but it was constantly misspelled as Lexi. It always looked unfinished to me, and the fact that I had people argue with me about how I spelled my name and then refuse to learn to add the final "e" annoyed me enough that I just shortened it further to Lex. There was also the time I briefly went by my middle name, Reyne (pronounces like rain), because Lex felt too harsh or masculine and not ~wispy~ and ~creative~ enough (look, I was a young teenager).

At the same time all of THAT was happening, my little sister was born. "X" sounds are typically hard for toddlers. When I was an infant and my older sis was a tot, she pronounced my name "lets-see" which is also cute. But, when Little Sis was born, my mom decided to give me a nickname to make it easier. My older sis was Wee (her first name starts with a W), and I was Lu/Lulu/Lucy. Mine came, in part, from being called "Lexie Lou Who" as a little kid. Reality though is that my little sis first called me Weecy, since /w/ is easier than /l/, but I've been Lucy for my family and close/loved ones for over 1.5 decades. My mom introduces me as Lucy. My husband calls me Lucy or Lu (sometimes lulu or lulu lemon).

So basically: Lexie for the first ~12-13 years of my life, then I branched into "Weecy" and "Lucy" with people I am safe with while keeping my "outside" (unsafe/uncertain) name as Lex, with a short stint being called Reyne because I was exploring a more creative, less scientific side of me.

The Lucy/Lex dichotomy has worked out for me decently so far, and in part, this is because it allows me to compartmentalize. I know that the people who call me Lucy are safe. I won't always like them or what they do, but I know they care about me. My parents still don't know I've been diagnosed autistic, and there are bits of me that I don't share in general because I don't know for sure that they will always be respected and valued. But that comes from my parents having a different set of experiences and values. In general, I know they want what is best for me, we just have differences in opinions about what that "best" is sometimes. Still, it's safe enough to have them call me Lucy because I trust that they have good motives. These are also the people I deeply care about. We have a reciprocal relationship. I can trust that they will be there when I need them, and they know I will be there for them too. Contrast that with Lex- the people who call me Lex are acquaintances. People I need to hold off at a distance. People I'm not sure will have my best interest at mind. They may respect my personhood, but they don't care the way people who call me Lucy do. They could be amazing people- and many of them are- but they just haven't yet earned the privilege of calling me Lucy. I also have no expectation that they might earn that privilege. There is no expectation of reciprocity either. I expect nothing from the people that call me Lex. They could ignore my name all together and call me "kid in the pink jacket" (like everybody did when I went to the community college for the last two years of high school). This separation protects me from getting my hopes up, thinking people are friends.

And I'll also say- the people who call me Lucy, I don't invite to call me Lucy. I invite yall online to call me Lucy, but that's because I expect that if you're here and listening, it's because you want to be here and supportive, not because I have something to give you. And I will give to all. But I digress- I don't invite the IRL people to call me Lucy. It develops organically. They pick up on the fact that nobody in my personal life calls me Lex. They ask about it. I tell them honestly. Then, they decide- they can call me Lex if that feels right, or they can call me Lucy and enter into my circle. I don't present it as a choice, I just inform them that I separate it out, and people close to me choose to call me Lucy, and that's how I know who is safe. Sometimes, people don't ask and just start calling me Lucy. I don't think my husband ever asked. It just... fell into place and felt right. And I don't think my best friend's main partner asked- he just always knew me as Lucy because that's what Best Friend calls me all the time. Literally never Lex. But other times, people do ask. Best Friend asked first- which was very thoughtful and probably one reason why we are best friends. It was respectful, understanding that how I feel may not be how she feels.

Anyway, back to now. When I was working full time, I was Lex or Lexie to everybody, but when I was off work, all the people in my life called me Lucy. I had a work Self, Lex, and a non-work self, Lucy. I stopped working for a year, and I was full-time Lucy. I had to use my legal name on applications for school, but studying self was Lucy, wife self was Lucy, pug mom was Lucy (or pug-mom), gym self was Lucy, friend self was Lucy... you get the point.

And now I am back to being Lex like, half the time.

I think part of the issue is that I haven't been "Lex" as me for a long time. It's always me as somebody else. Lex the Student. Lex the Chemistry Teacher. Lex the Scribe. Lex the MHT. Lex the... you get it. All of those are roles I've had- not wholly me. The whole 'me' is Lucy, but this physical body is "Lex" half the time, so I don't feel like my physical body is me.

But it goes deeper than that, because for years, only my family called me Lucy. Lucy was "Lucy, the sister" and "Lucy, the daughter." I didn't see it as who I was. Lucy was the second self, the role. Lex was who I was, and at that time, I was thin. I worked out a ton. I put studying on a pedestal. I was, objectively, not mentally healthy, not living according to my own personal values, still figuring myself out.

And when I recovered and grew into "me," I grew into Lucy, not Lex. Lex became the role, the second self. So of course now that I am playing the role of Lex more and more, now that my body is playing Lex despite Lex being left in 2013, my 2023 body is not Lex of 2013 and I don't feel congruent.

I also didn't realize until now how little I cared about my body/appearance as part of "me" until now. As I grew into me, I didn't really think much about my body. My way of dealing with my body's changes? Distancing. Ignoring. Separating. So even though this body is the one I inhabit as Lucy, I still don't feel like the body is me.

(Note... Interestingly: my therapist calls me Lexie, not Lex. It felt very wrong for her to call me Lucy, but Lex felt too... informal, stuffy, closed off.)

[no-one-hears-me]

wow I really am terrified of gaining weight

[s4turday-sun]

.

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Please, Be Gentle with My Breaks - III

Chapter 18/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 10,480

Summary: There's a difference between being broken and having a few breaks. But a lot of these kids and been dealt a lot of blows, and not just from physical monsters of the Upside Down. There's still a lot of stuff hidden just under the surface that they haven't been able to show just yet.

TW: Depictions of PTSD - Triggering events and flashbacks

More ST Fics

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Friday morning - the morning Family Video was set to re-open its doors and begin taking business again - had finally come.

It was a sunny morning. The kind that starts with birds chirping from the trees and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Robin and Steve had made plans to be at the store early, a few hours before opening, to eat breakfast together in the back office and take care of any possible final business that could come up. It was going to be a very good day. They'd decided that much.

Robin was still asleep and a little while away from starting that very good day when a noise that was less pleasant than birdsong rattled through her window.

It had been a week since the morning after the earthquake, and the construction crews had finally made their way to the suburbs near the Buckleys to take care of refortifying, structural concerns, and general repairs. One such house that required their attention, was the neighbor's from right behind them. The one that happened to be closest to the wall of Robin's room.

She was woken up when the racket started.

There was yelling, the workers shouting across distances and making their plans. Her neighbor's house had a lot of worry. She usually wouldn't mind the yelling that much. She could ignore it until Steve arrived to whisk her away. But she had been asleep and would've liked to stay that way. And all the noise outside made it impossible to fall back asleep. So she rolled out of bed and pulled her thin, red curtains closed, trying to block out just a little bit of the early morning sun.

It was about then that the foreman of the crew grunted with displeasure and came to a decision.

“Too much mess here. The whole foundation's got cracks in it, I don't like the way these wooden support beams are splinting, these warps in the flooring don't look good, and that roof damage is only going to get worse with bad weather. Call the homeowners. They can bitch about the facts all they want, but this house is going to be next with the demo team and need a complete reconstruction before anyone moves back in.”

Robin had already finished getting ready. She was washed up and dressed, and finally, the noise softened. Maybe they were done for the day. And she probably had another hour before Steve would be rolling around. So she dove back under her covers and tucked them in around her. Closing her eyes and drifting back off to sleep for just a little bit longer before she'd be taken away from her warm, comfy bed, and would be made to face the daunting trials of customer service.

Maybe forty minutes later, Robin was in that slippery state between sleep and awareness while the heavy machinery of a demolition team rolled down the street. All at once, those titans of force began to unmake the house right behind theirs. So close to where she peacefully slept. And the house did not go down easy.

Robin was startled awake in a red-tinted room, with the impossibly loud sound of destruction erupting from right behind her. The strength of it was rumbling the bed under her body, accompanied by the shriek of over-used and under-cared-for mechanical parts.

And all of it just sent her.

It felt like Thursday night. In the Upside Down. Where the red-tinted sky opened up above her, and the ground shook under her feet so hard she almost fell over. When the groans of an old house moved around her and filled up her ears. Until it all became echoes of screams instead.

Lucas's screams.

“Erica! Call for help!”

She felt it. She felt the fear again. Like it was all occurring to her for the first time.

Max was dead. Lucas was hurt. Eddie was going to die.

Her hands started shaking. She felt the sweat stick to the back of her neck, on her forehead under her bangs. Her arms and legs almost felt numb- or maybe they felt disconnected from her? They didn't feel right. Or useable.

She was frozen. And she tried to reason with herself. Thursday night was Thursday night. It was over a week ago. It all already happened, and she's supposed to be fine. She's in her room.

But as she looked around, none of it seemed familiar. It all looked foreign. Alien. It even started to look like the room was covered in vines, and dust, and cobwebs.

And she was alone. Steve and Nancy weren't there with her. By her side. Helping her run through the terror anyway.

She was alone.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and then one of the neighbor's walls went down. Everything shook even worse. And while she was petrified just a second ago, she was then thrown into urgency. She all but pushed herself out of the bed and backed up under the frame. In the little space between the floorboards and the box spring. She just tried to crawl further and further back, closing herself into something small and hidden.

Nothing bad should be able to find her under there.

She started crying harder.

Somewhere in it, her parents started asking questions. Asking if she wanted any breakfast before she left. Trying to make sure she was still up. Wondering why she wasn't answering. But none of it reached her. She just stared straight forward, trying desperately to cover her ears and make it stop. She just needed it all to stop. But all she felt was the tremble. And all she heard were the screams.

Her dad opened her door. He and her mom poured into her room and kneeled on the floor to find her down there under her bed. They tried talking to her. To figure out what was happening. None of them understood why it was happening.

Max was dead. Lucas was hurt. Erica was in danger. Eddie was going to die. Dustin was limping. Steve was bleeding.

Nothing was okay. And Robin was alone.

Steve's car rolled to a stop in front of the Buckleys. But Robin wasn't sitting, waiting for him on the stoop. She probably just woke up late and needed another minute, or two, to finish getting ready. They were going in early anyway.

Steve wasn't in any rush.

So he just sat in the driveway. Letting the radio play through “You're Much Too Soon” by Hall and Oats. But still, as the song ended and the host announced that The Cars would be playing next, Robin wasn't outside.

Which was starting to seem unusual. He'd never waited very long for her to run out. It's not like she was someone to go to a rager and be hungover the next morning. And there was no way she had something with Vickie that went so late she couldn't wake up. At least no way she wouldn't have mentioned it to him.

He wasn't sure what her deal was, but he still didn't really want to risk getting Mrs. Buckley's stink eye by knocking on the door. A person only makes that mistake once. So he shrugged to himself and honked his horn in two short bursts. To make sure she knew he was there. Not to sound passive-aggressive, but maybe she forgot what time they planned on leaving.

And in that dark space between what was happening and the memory playing over reality, Steve's car broke through.

Robin knew that beep.

From all the times she was already packed into his car after closing, and he was taking too long to lock the door to Family Video, so she'd lean over to the driver's seat and honk at him from his own car. From every time they'd gotten talked into running one or a couple of the kids somewhere, and they were taking their sweet time, so he'd honk at them. From any time someone peeled out past a stop sign in front of them, Steve would curse, ask how much they think his car is worth, and he'd honk at them because he couldn't expect an answer.

Robin knew the sound of Steve's Beemer.

Which meant Steve was there.

That was the only thing she could grasp and hold on to. Steve was there. Somewhere out of sight, but there. Steve was there, so she wasn't alone.

“Steve? STEVE?” she called for him. Past her parents that didn't fit the picture in front of her, she yelled for her best friend to fill in.

Just when Steve was really starting to wonder what was up, he saw Robin's father open the door.

“There's something wrong with her!” he shouted, looking more scared than grown-ups usually let him see.

And Steve didn't even think he'd ever run so fast for anything. Before he could even worry about what specifically could be wrong, before he could worry about the Buckleys not being his biggest fans, before he could worry about not technically having been invited inside their house - he was through the front door and following the sound of Robin's voice down the hallway to her room. Where her mother was crouched on the floor trying to reason with where Robin must've been under her bed.

He just shucked the jacket off his arms and scooted himself under there beside her.

“Hey. Hey, Rob. I'm here. It's me.”

She looked at him. And he made sense. As much as all of it didn't make sense, Steve being there with her while she felt terrified? That made sense.

Robin's fingers released a sweater that had been lost under her bed and instead grabbed onto the short sleeve of Steve's white shirt.

“Steve. Steve, it's- i- it's shaking. Everything is…”

“I know. I know, it is.” He nodded with her,” But, hey, I’m right here with you. Okay?”

There was barely enough room for the width of their bodies under there. But even so, Steve untucked his arm from beside him and pushed it into the space over Robin. He held her tight around her shoulders, her hand still twisted in the fabric of his shirt. She was probably going to stretch it out, but Steve wasn't even a little worried about it then.

“It's so loud…” she whispered, trying to cover up one ear without letting go of Steve.

“That's okay. That's okay, because…” Steve reached over to his discarded jacket. In the pocket was his walkman and one of his mixes he was keeping on him until he made the one specifically for Vecna. He slipped the headphones over her ears with a little difficulty, due to the angle and tight quarters. But after he got it on, he'd quickly sped through the first third of the tape, because ABBA's “Lay All Your Love On Me” should've been the fifth song on it.

He pulled her tighter against him while she listened to the music and spoke right into her hair,“ I’m right here. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She continued to cry.

Robin's parents just looked at the two in shock. They knew that they had gotten close, but they never imagined… Steve was the kid in town with a reputation for getting around. They always assumed there was something there, something he was chasing her for. They weren’t happy about it but figured - maybe just maybe - Steve Harrington got drawn into Robin’s refusal of his advances and it just made a game for him after they worked together at the mall.

But the way he was looking at her, it was love.

And not a romantic or lustful thing. It was just love in its purest form. Like they were two halves of the same person. Destined to link their arms together for the rest of their lives, despite whatever husband and wife they would get tied to down the road. It was something bigger than her parents understood.

But they were starting to.

Robin eventually stopped shaking so badly, and stopped crying so hard. Steve asked them if the construction crew could stop what they were doing. Even for just fifteen minutes. Just long enough to let Robin calm down some and get out from under the mattress and put some distance between them.

And the parents left them to each other. Somehow, they completely trusted that all Steve Harrington wanted to do was help their daughter feel better. When they told the crew that their kid was having something of a nervous breakdown, they were incredibly apologetic and immediately shut off all the equipment. Mrs. Buckley brought out some lemonade for them as a thank-you while they killed a little time.

“You doing better, Rob?” Steve asked when she looked like she was coming back to herself.

The room didn't look so scary anymore. Her mind wasn't covering her floor and walls in leathery tentacles. She couldn't hear kids screaming and crying in her ears. She knew Max was safe in the hospital, and Eddie was right next to her recovering. Lucas, Erica, Dustin, and Steve all made it out with bumps and bruises, but they were fine.

Robin pushed the headphones off of one of her ears and nodded to Steve, wiping off her face,” Yeah. Yeah.”

“Do you wanna get up?” he offered.

She thought about it. But her legs still felt like jello, and she still had an icky feeling making her hair stand up. It didn't look like the Upside Down anymore, but she was still scared it would again as soon as she made it to her feet.

“Not yet? It feels safer down here. Closed in, nothing can surprise me.”

“Okay. We’ll stay down here for a few minutes.”

Robin shook her head. She felt silly. “We’re going to be late to work,” she told him.

“Fuck work.” Steve remarked, and she laughed through a sniffle,” I’m the manager now. I say Family Video can re-open tomorrow.”

But then the worry hit her again,“ But, Steve, if I stay here all day and they start again, I-”

Steve just shrugged against her shoulder,“ We can go wherever. Wherever you want.”

And she relaxed again.

They got her up off the floor, splashed some water on her face, and got packed into the car after Robin hugged her parents. Told them she was going to be fine.

They blared music from his car and stopped back at his house first to grab snacks. She met the Antonovs while Steve stole a boombox and a handful of cassettes from his room. And then they made quick goodbyes and were off again. Steve figured a good place to go, to get away from everything, was that junkyard past the quarry.

They drove up the gravel road, around the big open water, into the break of the trees, and out through the clearing of abandoned cars and scrap.

“So, this is where Dustin took you, huh?”

She'd wondered what kind of place made for a demodog trap and makeshift fortress to hunker down in. Not enough to actually ask for a visit to a place that screamed serial killer central, but she'd wondered about it.

“Yeah. Except we came from the tracks and walked the whole way from town.” Steve told her.

Robin crinkled up her nose at the idea,“ If you're gonna bring me to the edge of the world, I'm not walking there. Only way you're getting me all the way out here is if I'm riding in style.” She leaned back in the seat, popped her feet up on the dash, and closed her eyes. Like she was trying to become the picture of luxury.

Steve just smiled softly and hummed,“ Of course, you are.”

The Beemer was parked and the two climbed out together. Robin's first instinct was to comment on the mess. The broken glass and the dented-up metal. Steve pretended it was all damage from the demodogs. She didn't know any better to push it. But they sat down in an open spot. Dug into the leftovers of Claudia's brownies while they just talked and looked out over the hill.

And then Robin brought the conversation back to something she considered to be of high importance.

“So, what's the plan with Nancy?”

Steve completely turned away from her, echoing her question like that'd make her drop it,“ What's the plan?”

And, as if she didn't even hear the annoyance in his tone, she agreed,“ Yeah. What's the plan? What sort of idea do we have on the docket?”

“Robin. Her boyfriend is sleeping on my couch right now.” Steve reminded her.

“Which is why I want to know the plan. Situation's gotten complicated.” Robin crossed her legs and popped a bit of brownie into her mouth.

But he declared,“ There is no plan.”

And she almost sounded disappointed. "Steve.”

“You guys keep trying to open that door - and maybe you could entertain the idea while Jonathan wasn't around - but it's different now.”

“You guys?” Robin pointed out,” Who else has been talking about you and Nancy?”

Steve muttered,“ Munson might've said something stupid…”

Her eyes widened,“ See! Multiple people-”

“Just the two-”

“Multiple people think there's something there! So why aren't you going for it? We got your confidence back, you're acting like the hot commodity you are again. Don't get why you're wasting time.”

He tried to redirect her,“ Why don't we focus on the Vickie front?”

She argued,“ The Vickie front is fine!”

“Oh? So what are the two of you then?” Steve pressed.

Robin got quiet before eventually saying,” I don't know.”

“That doesn't sound very fine.”

Which thankfully seemed to pull her away from Nancy Wheeler.

“How do I broach that topic then, Steve?” she asked.

“Well, you're gonna wanna get all dressed up, look real nice, lean in close, and then you're going to ask her where this thing is going.”

“And if she doesn't think 'this thing' is going where I want it to go? Then I've just outed myself and started the countdown until I become the town pariah.”

“You just gotta be covert enough it's safe, and direct enough you get a clear answer,” Steve advised. Which sounded like an impossible balance to strike.

And Robin was at least a little bit annoyed he'd even say such a thing. “Oh? Is that all?“

“That's all it takes!”

“Then…” Robin leaned over and got all in Steve's space before she put on a husky voice,“ Where do you think this Nancy thing is going?”

Steve cried out “Shut up!” and shoved her shoulder. They both fell into boisterous laughter while they lay out on the grass. Leaving behind the horrors of that morning and knowing full well that Family Video wasn't opening by 10 am as they planned.

Karen got a phone call that morning from Theresa. Robin's mother mentioned that they'd had a rough morning at their house, and asked if Karen had noticed Nancy going through anything after the earthquake. Seeming like she was reliving it at all, or stuff like night terrors? Karen truthfully told her that she hadn't seen any of that from Nancy, but what she kept to herself was that their kids didn't just face an earthquake. Karen knew they'd seen more than they needed to.

And with her soft heart, knowing that Robin got really shaken up and quickly left with Steve that morning to get away from the ruckus, Karen decided she'd pay the two of them a visit. Offer a little kindness and remind them that - even if they couldn't turn to their own parents for help - she was on their team now. Like what Nancy had said the night she found out what was going on.

So Karen baked a batch of fresh cookies in the oven. Her oldest daughter was pouring over her school work, the new and the old, and paying extra attention to her essays. Karen slid a plate on the dining room table to Nancy as they came out. Still warm and gooey, practically falling apart as Karen warned her to let them cool a minute so she didn't burn herself. And then she headed out the door. Packing herself and her Tupperware container away while she drove over to Steve's place. Where surely the two of them would have gone after Robin's fright.

The oddest thing was, as she came up to the front porch and knocked on the door, it wasn't either of them that answered. Nor was it Hopper or Joyce, or any of the kids. Instead, there was a man she'd never met before. A very attractive man, for the record, wearing a pretty skimpy pair of cut-off jeans that were halfway up his thighs and what probably used to be a tee shirt until the sleeves were snipped off to the shoulder and the bottom cropped until it almost showed skin.

Which was a little out of the usual considering Spring just started and nobody else in Hawkins would be dressing like that for weeks, if not months. Just wasn't warm enough for it yet. But there this mystery man was, looking like he was ready to host a Summer cookout and work on his poolside tan.

He pursed his lips under a crisp mustache and asked, with a strong, deep voice and accent,” Yes?”

“Uh, yes, I- uh- I’m Karen. Wheeler. Mike and Nancy’s mom.” she explained. Remembering herself after a moment and shifting the cookies onto one arm, reaching out with her other hand to shake his. Friendly, polite, and mannerly. Maybe a little more bashful than she should be.

He smiled kindly and shook it with a firm grip,” Dmitri. I am Mikhail’s father.”

“Oh, yes, I’d heard- that, um, that we had someone new coming into town.” she made the connection and thought to herself that she was being silly. Stuttering and sputtering for no reason.

“Ah, yes.” Dmitri nodded,” Once your government sends me some papers, I may move out of this boy’s home. Maybe then we will even be neighbors, yes?”

Karen smiled and agreed,” Yeah, maybe.”

It was quiet for only a moment before he wondered,“ Was there something…?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, um, I assumed Steve and Robin would be around. Wanted to drop off a snack for them.” she motioned to the container she held.

“That is very kind of you. They are out, but I can put it in the kitchen.” he offered.

She handed the sweets over with a simple “thank you,” but she didn't exactly want to run back home so quickly. And she thought it was only reasonable to try and get to know him. Being another adult on the end-of-the-world team and all.

“How- how are you and your son adjusting? To Hawkins? I'm sure it must be a big change.”

“It is fine,” he assured her. “Mikhail wishes he were in school. Also wishes he had his own room, but that will change in time. We are fine. Much better away from where we were. And I, myself, am most enjoying all the time free from work and the warm temperature.”

Dmitri remarked on it all with a smile. Pale, blue eyes shining under the midwest sun. Which must've been a stark difference compared to the snow-covered country he'd called home just days before. He really seemed happy to have completely turned his whole life around.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice. By the sound of it from Murray, Hop, and Joyce, he had to leave. There wasn't anything left for him or his son in the Soviet Union after he was imprisoned, escaped, and every person at his workplace - convicts and guards alike - was killed. He was a renegade, no matter what. So he had to pack up his kid and him, board a sketchy helicopter, and come with the people he'd become loose companions with. Chasing “hope of a better life” and “the American dream” as far as it'd take him.

It sounded terrifying for Karen to imagine putting her own family through. But here, the man stood. In the door of a teenage boy's home because it had a spare room to borrow. In a country he didn't know. Without a clue about what exactly was going to happen in the coming days, weeks, months, or years. If they made it that long.

And he smiled under the sunshine. Because he was away from work, and they had nice weather in Hawkins, Indiana. And that was enough to be happy about.

“Really?” she asked him.

“Oh, yes. Certainly. If I could spend the rest of my days like this, though in a home of my own, I would. Waking up early, making food, spending time with Mikhail and sending him off, enjoying this lovely weather… it is all I need.”

Karen had to laugh to herself. It sounded like the life of a housewife this man was wishing for. And she knew it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. It wasn't as easy or as fulfilling as it seemed like it was when a person summed up in one clean sentence.

“Your son must be better behaved than mine.” she joked.

But Dmitri's eyebrow raised, and he leaned in closer to drop his voice,“ You think too highly of Mikhail. He is still a handful.” He sat back and mentioned,” Though, I suspect I am lucky to just have the one. You manage two.”

“Three, actually.” she corrected,” I have my youngest, Holly, too.”

“Three, then. Miss Wheeler, you are a mother of considerable strength, to do so on your own.”

“Oh, I’m not on my own. My husband, Ted, he-” Karen stumbled for a second. Not exactly sure how much she could speak to her husband's adequacy as a father. Not when it came to the softer parts of childcare. “Well, he supports us. Has a good job and brings home the bacon.”

“But you manage the home and children?” the man restated.

“Uh, yes, I guess, he mostly catches the bills, and I manage the house. And the kids. The day-to-day. If you want to look at it like that.”

“Then that makes you strong,” he argued.

Karen just averted her eyes and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “You’d be the first to think so.”

“Americans do not think their mothers are strong?”

“It’s-” She didn't get very far.

“They should. I believe you are very strong woman, Miss Karen Wheeler.” Dmitri said with full sincerity.

She couldn't help but notice he didn't correct to “Mrs.” even though she brought up her marriage. But it was nice to hear the rest of that sentence too. She was a strong woman. Seriously spoken, because it was no laughing matter.

Karen also couldn't help but ask a question she's wondered a few times by herself.

“Was it easy? To work and take care of your son on your own?”

It seemed a little rude to ask. She'd only known the man for a few minutes, and she only knew he was a widower or some kind of divorcee because it was sort of the elephant in the room. You don't think to grab the kid and not the mom if everything is going well. So he was in the parenting game on his own. And maybe sometimes Karen wondered if she could do something like that.

“Absolutely not.” he answered honestly,” My wife passed many years back. And my job it- it kept me away from home a lot. Only way we got through it was our sweet neighbor watching him when I could not. I only hope I may find way to tend to him more now.”

“You’d want to be a house-husband?” she asked, surprised.

“If I could? Absolutely. Just be a little… little trophy for the Missus to show off while I take care of the home and my boy.” he mused. “Sounds like a fine life to me.”

Karen only let out about half a laugh. “You’re a very interesting man, Dmitri.”

“What? You do not agree?”

“I can see the appeal, from the outside view. I’ve been in the housewife spot for a while now. It can be nice at times, but I definitely miss…” her eyes wandered,” the freedom.”

“I take it you have a passion then? One you put away to take care of your family?” Dmitri leaned against the door frame. His exposed bicep squished against woodgrain, though Karen tried not to notice, and he watched her carefully. Listening.

She admitted to him,“ Yeah, I did. Once upon a time. Many, many years ago.”

“Well, I hope you find it again, Miss Karen.” There it was with the “Miss” again- “Maybe your kids straighten up and give you time to chase it? Or your husband takes over some responsibilities of the house?”

“Oh, that’ll be the day.”

“You think Mr. Wheeler is not strong enough for the job?”

“He does his job.” Karen had to defend her husband. She began to count on her fingers,” Provides the roof over our heads, food on the table-”

But this Dmitri wasn't having it. With one hand, he gently closed his grip around hers. Only enough pressure to stop her, so he could say,“ If your husband leaves you so dissatisfied, then I do not believe he does his job very well.”

And Karen could feel the heat in her cheeks go hotter. He was close. And touching her hands. And serious but not afraid to laugh. And sweet in the way he talked about his kid. And attentive to her in a way no one has been since she and Ted first met.

It swelled something in her chest that scared her.

She smiled politely, and pulled her hands back,“ Sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I wasn't planning on more than a quick drop-off. But I’m happy to hear you’re both settling in. Feel free to help yourselves to the cookies as well.”

“Thank you,” he said, smoothly. No hint of dismay as she backed out. And then he added,” But it was no bother to speak with a beautiful woman on a nice day. Especially if she's brought over her own baking.”

In a moment of bravery, Karen agreed.

“It was no bother speaking to you either. I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Until then, Miss Karen. To your free time and the rise of house-husbandry.”

And Mr. Antonov stayed at the door while Karen returned to her car. He popped open the top and swiped himself a cookie in the wait. Watching as she opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. He only closed the front door of Steve's house once he'd seen the engine turn over fine. Making sure she'd have no problem getting home.

A length of care just beyond what was necessary.

It'd been a long, long time since Karen felt like anyone had extended that attention toward her.

Not that it mattered much. She was a married woman. A housewife. A stay-at-home mom. And Dmitri didn't convey much confidence that she was able to be anything else anymore. Not with three children to look out for. Even if Nancy was going to be off to college soon, Mike still had three years left. Hell- Holly was only six.

She needed to get back home.

Get back to what she knew how to do.

Time passed by in the junkyard. The sun rose up and eventually hung high in the sky overhead. Steve and Robin nearly emptied the last of Claudia's brownies. They were probably ready for some real food soon. And to get back to civilization.

But, for the moment, they just lay out on the ground next to each other.

Trying not to think about all the dirt getting into their hair and rubbing into the back of their clothes.

But Robin finally felt like herself again.

“Thank you,” she said to him. Her best friend. Who sat with her through the whole thing. Even though it snuck up on them out of nowhere, and they've never dealt with anything like it themselves.

“For?” he asked her.

She filled in,“ For being there for me.”

“Rob,” Steve rolled over onto his side to look at her,” I always will be. You know that.”

Robin nodded,“ I know. I just…” she started to explain,” didn’t realize it could get that bad. Nothing ever hit me like that after last summer. Nothing was ever similar enough to what happened that I just- I don’t know. But then I was just in my room, and I looked around, and it was just like Thursday night. Like some amalgamation of my bedroom and the Creel house, and the sounds were just- ”

Steve put his hand on hers where she'd started mindlessly ripping grass up by the roots.

“I know. But we’re fine. We’re fine.” he assured her.

“Yeah. We are.”

“So we’re feeling better now?”

“Yeah. We’re feeling better now.” Robin squeezed his hand.

“All the way better, or is there still something you need to be all the way there?”

She chuckled and smiled up at the bright blue sky. A big toothy smile. The kind her mother would've told her to reign in if they were taking family pictures. But the gentle fondness of Steve Harrington could be funny when he overdid it. Like a mother hen checking on his little chickadees over and over again.

And Steve might've been thinking about cruising by a drive-thru to finish off the comfort, but Robin had another solution in mind to settle any lingering anxiety.

“Well, if you’re offering… you know what my favorite thing ever is…”

And that was all the leading she had to do. Steve's eyes narrowed at her. But he didn't resist much.

“… Fine. Since you had a shitty morning.”

And then Steve went to his cassette player and dropped in “Robin’s Mix.” A tape he'd put together some time ago that always got the most runtime when its namesake was with him. It only took seconds for the sounds of ABBA's “Dancing Queen” to come out through the speakers. The first song on it. Robin stood, dusted herself off, and joined Steve by the hood of his Beemer where he'd propped the player. Fully set on turning the patch of seclusion into their own private dance floor.

And as the Swedish singers came in, Steve was quick to mime a microphone of his own. Directing every single word to his very best friend. Just like they had for her birthday.

“You are the dancing Queen, Young and sweet, Only seventeen! You can dance, You can jive, Having the time of your life, Ooooo~ See that girl, Watch that screen, Digging the Dancing Queen!”

They spun around each other. Robin shook out her hair, dropped her shoulders, and grooved side-to-side. Put her hands up in the air and swept them around in smooth motions. Steve was jumping around, posing, and kneeling to bask up at her. Like she was a real celebrity.

They probably put too much energy into it. If anyone serious was looking at them and compared their moves to the music at hand, they'd probably have said they didn't fit together. But to the two of them, it was how the song was meant to be danced to. It's what was right when everything came down to just Steve and Robin. No one else on the planet was invited.

And just being Steve and Robin was the easiest thing most days.

They made it all the way through the song before Robin nearly collapsed against him in giggles. He put away the phony mic, tossing it somewhere behind him to catch her before they both ended up on their asses. “One Way Or Another” began to fire up, but neither was listening too carefully.

“Thank you,” Robin said, almost out of breath.

“You already said that.” Steve pointed out.

“I know. But seriously,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed it like it was the most tangible lifeline she's ever had,” Thank you. For being my favorite person in the whole world.”

He squeezed her hand back, just as much love expressed in the simple act,” Thank you for being mine.”

Eventually, Robin stood back up on her own two feet. And they decided on that drive-thru meal to offset all the sugar and chocolate they'd had in lieu of a balanced breakfast. And interestingly enough, they also decided on going back to Family Video anyway.

They had no plans to open. More so just get out from under the sun before one of them (Robin) got sunburnt. Maybe even avoid the mosquitoes for the rest of the day. And Robin's Mix played through Steve's stereo the whole drive.

It might've only been Friday, and the nurses might've said they wanted to hold on to Eddie through Tuesday, but he was getting stir-crazy.

He hated, hated, hated just sitting there on that bed. He wasn't supposed to get up and move around too much, lest he desire to face Nurse Tracey's wrath. But it was torture. The tv was no adequate entertainment, and it killed him to know that everyone else had something to do. Some way they were healing or fixing things.

Just “getting better” wasn't a good enough assignment.

Not when there was so much at stake. Not when he was laying down right next to Max, who was stuck where he'd gotten out of. They told him it wasn't the same. But it should've been. They both died, and El brought them both back, and they both got to a hospital. But she wasn't awake.

And it pissed him off so much.

She played decoy, and so did he. And they both did their parts a little too well. But she didn’t get up after.

Wayne dropped in and ate breakfast with him on his way to work. Expressed his sorrow about Eddie's ring. Eddie's mom's ring. His fingertips drifted to his right ring finger where he'd always worn it. Not on the left, because that was the spot dedicated to his own engagement one day.

He missed it. The black gem, cut in too many facets that it caught the light too much. It didn't have the same mystique as domed, smooth onyx that seemed more like a void set in silver than a stone. He'd looked at some in pawn shops and understood the appeal.

But as much as his mom's ring didn't exactly fit the idea of what his aesthetic "should" be, it was better.

And it was gone.

He didn't cry when Wayne mentioned it. Didn't cry when Wayne said he was going to ask around, keep an eye out, and look wherever he could think to. Didn't ruin it for him by saying," I know I wore it into battle. I fucking kissed it before climbing up a twisted version of our trailer and starting my set. So if it's gone, it's gone in another dimension. And, honestly, it was probably eaten by a demobat, given how much they bit at me. So it had to be fucked up for good after sitting in dead monster stomach acid all this time."

No. Eddie just smiled at his uncle. Told him thanks for everything. Said he was going to make it up to him with a spaghetti night when they settled in a new place to call their home again. Wayne smiled and told him not to forget the garlic bread.

"You know that's the best part." he laughed.

Wayne's eyes caught on his watch, and it was time to go. He laid a hand on his boy's shoulder, kissed him on his forehead, and told him to just keep getting better. Try not to worry about anything in the meantime.

Eddie didn't promise him anything.

He finished his re-read of The Hobbit. Sniffled at the end like he always did. He looked over old notes and put together new ones for a campaign. The boys, including Josie and Erica, and even Will, all came by. It was nice.

It wasn't a very complex storyline he'd thought up, but for a one-shot, it would do. The gang of nine players packed around his bed was given the task of sneaking into a masquerade party held in a castle. The queen had received word that her daughter was in danger, but she didn't know who it was. It could've even been a member of their own royal guard. So she'd hired the band of adventurers to make sure the princess would be safe. The hard part was, she'd survived an insane labor of nine. Yup, nonuplets. So there were nine identical princesses to keep an eye on and protect while they tried to find the bad guy. And just as fate would have it, one of them died.

It was only thanks to Will's impeccable notetaking that they figured out it was not actually Daphne in the pale green dress, but Rowena who'd swapped their clothes and taken the place of her sister. A scheme worked up with an assassin she'd fallen in love with to steal the title of "eldest daughter" and have the first claim to the throne. She had been the youngest of nine, after all, she was far down the list before she'd see a crown.

But they solvest the mystery. Earned a good chunk of change from an incredibly distraught royal family who not only lost one child, but a second too. Everyone cheered for each other when they got the confession and defeated the enemies in combat. Tucked away the characters with mentions that it might be nice to dust them off and revisit the theme again another time. Make a regular habit of these Sherlock Holmes-like mysteries dipped in a little bit of fantasy flair and ass-kicking to close it all out.

It was fun. Mostly. But holding the session around his bed, where he felt like he was some weak little thing he didn't think he was… it hurt Eddie in a way he wasn't expecting. It itched against all the other feelings he was holding on to. And he didn't like it.

He was feeling cagey.

So, after they all said their goodbyes, he made a break for it.

Or, more exactly, he told Tracey he had to get out of there and begged for any way to make it happen. She was not happy. Looked at him down her hooked nose, through her thick glasses, from under crumbling mascara that rimmed her eyes. A scornful expression like she was trying to intimidate him into pulling up his covers and saying how much he actually liked it there.

But he stood his ground. And she admitted, him being a legal adult and all, that he could fill out an Against Medical Advice form - meaning he couldn't sue if he fucked himself up for leaving early - and he'd be free. So he asked her, very nicely, to fetch such a document for him. And she did. She still pestered him about calling or coming in the minute he felt bad. To watch himself for a high temperature, upset stomach, sweating or chills, bleeding, puss, or extra sensitivity around the injuries. So he swore up and down he would.

And he made it out.

His car was still at Wayne's hotel, wherever that was exactly, so Eddie just hopped the bus and made it downtown. He didn't have an exact plan, but he was not going to go home. That trailer was practically a fallout zone and wouldn't make for much of a shelter at that point. And he also didn't want to even figure out where Wayne was pitched up at. Because he was bound to go stir crazy there just the same as he had in the hospital.

He ended up on the idea to stop by a certain video store to annoy a certain pair of employees and whatever poor souls decided to shop there on the day Eddie Munson became a truly free man.

“What? Am I not pretty enough for you, Robin?” Steve asked.

His voice dripped with offense, like the discussion at hand was the cruelest thing anyone had ever said to him. They'd been making plans for Robin to ask Vickie on something more obviously a date. To help bridge that gap between girl friends and girlfriends. Robin had suggested something more like what she and Steve do anyway, getting together at someone's house when there are no parents home for a movie. But that also painted what they do as being inherently romantic and she gagged. Now, Steve was on some tirade about being a wonderful date and she should be so lucky.

He leaned against the shop counter and struggled to pop his hip out in a way that could even come close to feminine. But none of the shapes were there, and Robin could only look at him with pity. Not an admission of defeat.

“As much as I love you, Steve…” she tried to soften the blow,” You already know the key thing keeping us apart is my particular interest in…”

”Oh, right.” Steve's tone dropped, and he cupped his hands on his chest as if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him,” Boobies. I don’t have those for you.”

The comment caused Robin to crinkle her nose in a sharp cringe,” Stop calling them that!”

“Why?! It’s what they are! Not my fault you can’t handle the proper word for them!” he pushed.

“ANYWAY!” she tried to take control of the conversation,” I like them a lot, so stop pressing it. It's starting to get really sad.”

“Alright, alright, I'm hearing you, but what if I turned like this.” Steve turned around and arched his back as he shyly looked over his shoulder at Robin. Trying to pull off a more pin-up pose. Like, because she couldn't see his front, she could forget he was missing the pair features they both enjoyed so much. Like it made him girly enough at all.

Robin tried to hold back her snickers at his display. Steve closed his eyes and shook out his hair behind him for effect. He put on a pretend sultry voice before asking her,“ Does this do it for you?”

“What did I just walk in on?” Eddie froze in the open doorway.

As Steve's brain registered that the question didn't come from Robin, he snapped open his eyes and jumped out of the pose. Some kind of less-than-manly shriek flew up from his mouth, and all too quickly he practically tumbled over the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest to cover himself behind it. As if he was even topless in the first place. He wasn't, but he still felt pretty exposed.

“Can't you read the sign?!” Steve griped. A pointer finger shot out to where the “closed” side of the board was clearly facing out the door to any foot traffic on the sidewalk.

Robin was less focused on Steve's cause for concern and complaint. Instead, she joyfully exclaimed,“ Eddie! You’re out of the hospital!”

“Yup, doc declared me as less than ‘healthy as a horse’ but not likely to bleed out at any moment, so I've been released on good behavior for bedrest at my own home while the wounds, you know, do their thing and scar over.”

“If it’s bedrest, shouldn’t you be, ya know… in a bed? Resting?” Steve questioned him. Maybe a little pointedly, but hey, he was allowed to feel a little sour over Eddie walking in on his and Robin's nonsense. That stuff's supposed to be private.

“Didn’t really feel like hitching a ride across town for a quiet hotel room packed with Wayne's and I's stuff while he finishes the rest of his shift.” Eddie excused,” Plus I’d miss out on whatever the hell all this is. So I’ll ask again; what did I just walk in on?”

“Steve’s just really sad that he’s not pretty enough for me.” Robin mused teasingly. Figuring that context was innocuous enough for the present company.

“Oh, man. Tough break, Princess Harrington. My condolences.” Eddie said, putting one hand over his heart and the other on Steve's shoulder like he actually meant to console the man's wounded pride.

Steve swatted away the gesture immediately. And then he decided something new about Eddie being a member of the party.

”You two are insufferable!” he said with a pair of aggressive finger-pointing,” I don't like this duo! I don't need the two of you ganging up on me! It's unfair!”

“Wait till we get Dustin in on the action too. Three on Steve seems like fine odds.” Eddie added just to see the way it made Steve twist up his face. He even started getting a little red!

Through it all, Eddie and Robin found some kind of understanding between the two of them. An understanding of how fun it was to push all of Steve's buttons. And somehow, they still secured invites to his place for dinner. Maybe it was their wicked pair of sad eyes, maybe it was more of that “feeling way too bad for everyone” gene he's got, but Steve let them both pile into his car while he made his way home.

Eddie met their European guests, shook more hands, and made more small talk. And by the end of the meal, Steve would say he narrowly survived the onslaught of teasing. Steve ran Robin back to her place and stayed parked right outside until she buzzed him on the walkie and said she wasn't having a panic attack in her room again and he needed to clear out before someone accused him of stalking. Eddie and Steve laughed, and as the driver wondered where he was sending Eddie off, he admitted he didn't know.

Still hadn't even called his uncle to find out which spot across town he was camped up in.

And somehow… that conversation ended with another invitation to Steve's house. That time, one to spend the night. Eddie was eager to accept. A bustling house of kids and the most random assortment of adults sounded like the exact opposite of falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beeping on a machine next to him, and Max's a few feet away.

And thanks to an already stacked dance card - the Byers and Co. on the couch, Joyce and Hop sharing the master, Murray laid claim to the first guest room, the Antonovs in the other - there was really only one place with any spare room without tossing one the injured men to the floorboards.

And that was to partner up and share Steve's bed with him.

It started with Eddie trying to break the ice. Pointing out the grid pattern painted on Steve's walls and hung up on his curtains. Mentioning that it was nothing like how he imagined the King of Hawkins slept. It looked more like a cage than anything else.

Steve shrugged, agreed with the sentiment, and tried to focus on grabbing his own pajama options and getting the night over with. As awkward as it was shaping up to be. But drawing attention to his closet, drew attention to the desk and chair right in front of it. And the denim vest hanging on the back of that chair, which rightfully belonged to Steve's most recent guest.

“There it is!”

Steve turned around and followed Eddie's eyes to the battle vest he'd accidentally borrowed for too long.

“Oh, right! Sorry.” he picked it up from its perch. “Didn't mean to steal it. Just forgot it was there a little.”

“Wow. I let you dress yourself in my battle vest - watching out for your delicate purity so that it might not be besmirched - and you forget about such a deep moment we shared?” Eddie lamented the tragedy. Wondering to himself if it would be too much to try and force a tear.

“I didn't mean I forgot about it like that. Just- I was trying to figure out what to do with it, and I forgot to give it back.” Steve quickly handed it over,” Here.”

Eddie barely looked at the item before he asked,“ What to do with it? That sounds a little spooky. Did you have some kind of black magic spell in mind that you needed it for? You're not gonna steal a lock of my hair after I fall asleep, right?”

“No. Absolutely not. I, just, I was wearing it while I was all gross and sweaty and bleeding, so I figured the same rules as borrowing gym clothes applied, and I should wash it before I gave it back.” Steve tried to explain,” But you have so much stuff on it I didn't want to get ruined, and I wasn't sure how to go about it, and everything has been so insane all the time-”

“I get it. Worry not, Stevie.” Eddie tried to release him from whatever pressure he put on the idea. “Plus you don't really wash a battle vest. It's kinda supposed to go through hell and come out the other side with some authentic grime.”

“But another guy's blood and sweat? That's pretty extreme.” Steve commented. But his face said he leaned more towards 'nasty' than just 'hardcore.'

“You don't understand the culture. That's okay.”

“Alright. Well, then I guess my dilemma turned out for the best.” Steve ducked back into his closet.

Eddie more carefully examined his vest for all the wear and tear it saw. None of the patches or pins looked like they were in danger, but there were some new loose threads he could think about playing with. As he looked it over, he commented with a chuckle,“ Yeah, if you wanna uselessly panic about other stuff and wind up saving the day through inaction, there's the Vecna guy I don't know if you've heard about. I think those magic powers could really speed things along and get us all to summer break in one piece.”

Steve quickly turned out of the hanging garments and urged Eddie,“ Don't let Murray hear you strategize, or he'll barge in and spend an hour actually trying to make a plan out of it.”

He said it so seriously Eddie couldn't even get a response ready while Steve slinked out of the room to go across the hall. To change into the jammies and take care of his nightly routine in the comfort and privacy of his own bathroom. And before Eddie knew it, he was left alone in Steve Harrington's room. Sitting crisscross on the edge of his bed, a pile of denim in his lap, and far too much awareness of how fresh their friendship really was.

The rest of the house had gotten pretty quiet. They'd all turned in for an earlier evening after a long afternoon of work at Hop's cabin and some folks still adjusting their internal clocks to Hawkins time. A big, big house, packed with people, and yet there wasn't much noise.

Steve came back to his room just after a few minutes. He tossed his clothes from the day in a dirty laundry hamper and sat on the other side of the bed. Pushing down the covers before he swung his legs up under them. Eddie followed suit. Standing up to put his vest back on the desk chair for the time being, and climbed into the bed next to his roomie for the night.

And then Eddie and Steve were left to each other. In Steve's bed. Laying still as statues to get some well-deserved rest.

And it was nerve-racking. All of Eddie Munson's nerves were racked. He couldn't help thinking about how the whole situation was so far off the map for him a few weeks ago. On the 22nd of March, Eddie Munson held a broken glass to his neck, and everything's been so strangely on the up and up since. Minus the whole almost-dying part. They'd been forging a bond, a weird one, given such a distinctly separate history. But there they were. Having a sleepover in the famed King's bedroom.

And it wasn't any easier for Steve to deal with. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It shouldn’t do or mean anything to him. Steve's done this sort of thing with Robin tons of times. Falling asleep next to someone you’re not attracted to should be easy and simple. But it wasn't.

Like, with Robin, they were both allowed to stretch their limbs out in all directions and hug the night away before they tried to kick one another off the bed. But, with Eddie, they were both practically on the edges of the mattress with their backs to each other so they wouldn't accidentally touch or even look at one another. And Steve wasn’t falling asleep. Instead, he felt like he couldn’t move without bothering Eddie.

What if his stitches were still super sore? What if he was lying about the vest and was actually bothered about the condition it was in? What if he was mad about his mom's ring?

And all of a sudden, Eddie started talking.

“You didn’t, by the way.”

Which didn't exactly make any sense as the first thing either of them had said in almost thirty minutes.

“What?”

“Stomp on me.” he clarified.

And it didn't immediately click. But after a second, Steve remembered what he said while Eddie was still in the coma. The part about “I was a bully,” and “I hope I didn't bully you,” but “I wouldn't really remember,” and “Tommy called it stomping on the ants” like that excused any of it. So that was the stomping Eddie was thinking about.

“Oh… so you…“

“Heard that bit?” Eddie finished for him. “Yeah. When our girlie woke me up in my head, some stuff outside started coming through. When there were a lot of you in the room, I couldn’t really follow any of it or understand what you were saying. But you stopped by on your own. Said that bit. It was easy to hear then.”

“Sorry. I honestly didn’t think you’d catch any of it.” Steve tucked his hands in closer to his face. More thankful than anything else that they couldn't see one another for this conversation.

And yet, Eddie joked,“ You planned to waste such a moving monologue on deaf ears? For shame, Harrington, for shame.”

“I just-” he tried again,” I’m sorry-“

But the other wouldn't hear it. “I just said you didn’t do it. Alright? Nothing to waste ‘sorry’ on.”

“But I must have, at some point.” Steve reasoned.

Unsure why his idea was to argue that, no, no, Eddie, actually he did mistreat you, you must be mistaken, think harder. But Eddie didn't waver. His voice was sure and even. And he simply affirmed the fact.

“You didn’t.”

“But-“

“I’ll admit, I convinced myself once or twice that you orchestrated all of it. Sent out your legions of jocks and goons to carry out your dastardly demands for you while keeping your hands clean. But, I know now that I was wrong about that idea.”

And with a pang of guilt that gnawed at his ribs, Steve spoke quietly,“ But I know I’ve said it.”

Freak. He called him The Freak. He knew he did. Hell, he said it just weeks ago when Dustin invited him to the game. He knew that.

But Eddie didn't dwell on it. Didn't deem it the important part.

“Not to me. Not once did you shove my face in it.”

“I’m still sorr-“ but Steve felt a smack on his shoulder. Carefully, he looked over to see that Eddie was laying face up, no longer with his back to Steve. The wall of air between them was gone, in one way or another. So Steve shifted over, joining him in laying back until he was looking up at his ceiling too.

“And do you always do that?” Eddie asked as he tried to get comfortable.

“Do what? Apologiz-”

“Talk through movies?” Eddie interrupted, steering the conversation way out into the left field,” I mean, I was unconscious, but I still heard your whole commentary on Grease. Very strong opinions you have on that one.”

“Okay, Sandy did nothing wrong and shouldn't have had to 'compromise' with Danny at the end just because he lied about their relationship to his guys for points. Had her story been about actually wanting to be less of a goody-two-shoes for her own reasons-”

Eddie stopped him before he really got going,“ That is what I'm talking about. Seriously, dude? And you had something specific to say every minute of it. Was practically watching it with you even with my eyes closed because you'd remind me what beat we were on without fail.”

He bumped into Steve's shoulder with his own. Small laughs bubbled up. And the whole situation didn't feel so awkward and stilted anymore.

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve agreed with a smile,” Rob and I are usually pretty chatty when we watch ‘em together. I think I picked it up from her.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re a real Chatty Cathy, Steve Harrington.”

“That such a bad thing?”

Eddie paused to think on it. But quickly decided otherwise. “Nah. I wouldn’t say so. Felt way less lonely with someone talking.”

Steve felt some pride settle back into himself,“ Then you’re welcome.”

“Oh, great,” he groaned,” Now I went and gave you a big head about it.”

“I think most people would tell you I already had one.” Steve pointed out.

“A big, stupid head.” Eddie took a finger and poked Steve right on the side of his forehead. But before Steve could really say anything else, he tugged the blanket up and rolled over in the bed. His back was up again, but it didn't feel so insurmountable. It was comfortable.

“Go to sleep,” he commanded. As if he wasn't the one that started their discussion in the first place.

Steve rolled onto his own side,” You go to sleep.”

A comeback fit for a first grader. My, how the mighty have fallen. But sometimes falling could be a good thing. Brings a person back down to Earth. Reminds them of all the other people that didn't climb too tall on their high horse.

And that kind of falling, the kind that Steve Harrington did, didn't make him shatter into broken pieces on the ground.

Some parts of a person need to break. Explicitly so they can put themselves back together. And maybe the breaks were always going to be there. But maybe he'd be the better for it. Maybe they all would.

[deathbxnny]

hi,may I request some headcanons about Victor, Silco, Ekko and Jayce (and if you can Jinx?) about caring and being with a S/O with ED. thank you! i apologize if the pronouns are not correct, I don't speak english ((

Arcane men with an S/O that has an ED. | Viktor, Silco, Jayce, Ekko x Gn!Reader

Hello anon! I decided to only write about the four men you chose first because of the limit, so I hope that's okay for you! Thank you otherwise for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<33

Content: TW!!EATING DISORDERS, some angst, established romantic relationships, hurt/comfort, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

Viktor is the first person to immideatly notice the slow shift in your eating habits, yet doesn't confront you about it immideatly. Instead, he simply observes you for a moment to make sure what he was seeing was correct since he obviously didn't want to assume anything... but it was hard for him to ignore how unhealthy it was becoming.

You were trying your best to hide it from him, perhaps out of guilt or simply subconsciously, but it did little to throw him off. He would never outright tell you to your face that he knew and would try to correct your eating by making you have your meals with him. He always has an excuse as to why you should, and thankfully, you can never say no to him, but even that doesn't help in the long run.

When things get too out of hand and your methods become too self-destructive, he finally finds the courage to sit you down and stage an intervention. His approach is gentle and understanding, as he guids you through the next steps and comforts you as much as he can.

He'll compliment you and give you all the reassurance needed during your recovery. Viktor knows that you still have a long way to go, but he isn't going anywhere and wouldn't dream of letting you go through this alone. He's there for you and makes sure you know that as well.

》SILCO

He only noticed that something was seriously wrong when you lost too much weight in a dangerously short amount of time. It wasn't unusual for people in Zaun to be a little malnourished due to their circumstances, but never this much. Especially not when you were dating a drug lord who could afford all types of food.

And so, he just bluntly confronts you about it, never the type to beat around the bush anyway. But he'll still be gentle and careful, the worry clear in his voice as he wonders if it's a physical issue. What he didn't expect, however, was you breaking down and telling him all about your problems, and thankfully, he listened and acted on them.

Your recovery is strictly supervised by him, and he makes it a point to take every meal together. The only way to leave the table is by eating every crumb he gives you. But that's not the only thing he focuses on. From what he understood, the issue came from deeply rooted insecurities inside you, which made him compliment and reassure you often. He may not be the best with words, but it's clear that he means it well which helps.

Silco doesn't entirely understand why you have an eating disorder, but he's nothing short of supportive and caring despite his reputation. He doesn't want you to hurt yourself, or even worse, die on him after all.

》JAYCE

He noticed your self-esteem issues getting worse and worse as time went on, which immideatly alerted him. Jayce knew that there was definitely a bigger issue at hand than simple insecurities and, therefore, at first attempts to just uplift you with compliments and praise. But he isn't foolish enough to believe that that would make everything go away.

Eventually requesting to talk to you, the man sits you down for a long talk about your disordered eating habits and asks you if there is something or someone making you feel bad about yourself. All you really need to do is confide in him, and he'll take it from there, determined to make everything right again.

Jayce takes makes dinner for the both of you that you share together, even going as far as to carefully feed you himself when necessary. He praises you for every plate you finish and for every therapy session you complete. He's just so proud of you!

He definitely makes more time for you in his rather busy schedule, just to make sure that you don't fall back into your disorder. The man wants you to be healthy and happy no matter how much work he misses. You're worth that.

》Ekko

Due to how busy he is as a Firelight, it takes him a moment to notice anything wrong with you. He's become so secure in knowing that nothing could hurt you under his wing, without realizing that it was you who was the "enemy" now. Or rather your disorder. And so when he does come to that said realisation, his heart drops and he immideatly takes action.

He immideatly intervenes you by making you sit down and talk out about what exactly triggered this extreme shift in eating habits. Hearing you mention your struggle with your appearance and weight made his heart ache, as he reiterates how much he loves you and thinks you're perfect. Ekko promises to help you, too, one way or another.

Due to your lack of proper medical resources, however, he comes up with a makeshift plan that helps with your recovery. He takes every meal with you and makes sure you know you're loved and appreciated by everyone in the hideout. You're allowed to take space and wants you to know exactly that.

Ekko is proud to see your progress and praises you every chance he gets. He wants to be at your side forever, no matter how you look like.

[dickggansey]

please for the love of god don't read the tags if disordered eating triggers you in any ways pleeeease please avert thy eyes!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[thebibliosphere]

Idk how invasive this is so delete if you like. If periods wreck you so much, have you tried birth control to avoid the hormone fluctuations or are there reasons why you aren’t able to take it?

If you have migraine with aura, you can't use estrogen-based birth control because it raises your risk of stroke. Same with hemiplegic migraines. Estrogen also makes MCAS worse.

If you have EDS, you may find your symptoms get worse with progesterone because progesterone increases joint laxity. So that's also a no-go.

Implanted non-hormonal birth control is also not an option for me because my body has a habit of yeeting implants out to alarming effect, and I'm not about to risk perforating anything else in my abdomen.

Basically, I am fucked when it comes to birth control options that don't fuck me up just as badly, if not worse. Nightmare body.

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ PRETTY LITTLE BIRDS

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

2k. simon gets a checkup. he’s assigned as your patient today.

“Mr. Riley?” your voice rings out through the small lobby. You don’t expect it to be him when he stands up - hulking behemoth of a man, skull painted balaclava gracing his strong face. You don’t really know why you placed any expectations upon it, his name. Riley. It was simple. Short. Sweet.

You shake yourself from your stupor when he walks up to you. You give him a small smile before turning around and leading him towards your room. He doesn't say anything, but from what little you got from skimming his file, it doesn’t surprise you. It goes either way with military guys - either they’re like the chatty Scot in your chair just last week, or they’re like him - reserved. Calculating.

Sitting behind the desk, computer screen already pulled up to his chart with the tap of your badge against the scanner. He sits in one of the chairs in front of you and… have they always been that small? He looks almost uncomfortable, his body smushed into the wooden thing. He doesn't say anything, doesn’t let out a complaint, just accepts it for what it is. You’re almost certain he’s sat or slept in worse.

You clear your throat before speaking. It’s a habit when you’re nervous, but also because you need to clear the silence that’s permeating through the air. “So, uh, Mr. Riley,” you start. “You sustained a fair amount of injuries, but the thigh wound is the biggest consideration. Seems like you’re walking okay on it… any concerns?”

The room fills with a pregnant silence again at the absense of your voice. He shakes his head no. Really not chatty, but that’s okay. You respect that, the silence that some patients need. You could absolutely talk his ear off if he needed but you know when the time to keep the chatter short is. You can do that. Short. Sweet. Like his name.

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth as you take a glance over at the screen. “I’m going to order labs - routine stuff. Just to make sure everything’s in good shape.” You fingers click clack on the keyboard as you type in the order. He stays silent, doesn’t move even an inch from his position as you type away. You can feel him observing you, taking you in, assessing.

You stand up and motion to the exam table. He follows suit, siting his hulking body up there with ease. You’re almost positive he didn’t need to do the little hop you always have to do to get up there. You quickly glove up, opening a drawer containing phlebotomy supplies. When you turn back around, there’s something unspoken in his eyes. You motion to his arm and he nods and pulls the arm out of his zip up.

You swallow thickly. His arms are massive, and you work on a military base full of hulking men. Your bottom lip works its way between your teeth again while you tie the tourniquet off around his massive bicep, struggling slightly because it’s almost not long enough. He makes a fist without you asking him to, knowing the routine.

“Do this yourself, rather than a nurse?”

You have to stop yourself from jumping out of your skin at the rough timbre of his voice. You suck in a breath before speaking.

“I was an ED nurse, before I went back to school to become a P.A.”

You rub the alcohol swab across his antecubital. You prime the needle, warn him about the small poke, and start filling the vials with his blood. It’s silent again, the only noise filling the air the sloshing of his red ichor into each small glass vial and what you’re sure is your loud breathing.

The gauze is wrapped around his arm gingerly after you pull out the needle. “Well Mr. Riley… if there are no concerns..?” He shakes his head, sliding off the exam table and standing up next to you. His hulking form absolutely towers over you. He subtly nods his head in your direction before moving towards the door. “Thanks Doc,” he says on the way out, and you don’t bother correcting him as he leaves the room.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before!” one of your coworkers nudges you, already a bit drunk. The bar is dark, a hole in the wall, with sticky floors and music loud enough that you need to slightly raise your voice to talk to someone if they aren’t right next to you. The only people who really come here are people at the base. It’s the regular spot, you've learned.

You smile at her and take a sip of your drink. You only moved here a few months ago and haven’t really had the desire to venture out yet. You’re crowded around a standing high top with a few of the other medical staff you work with. They pratically begged you to come out with them tonight, and having turned down all their offers in the past you felt inclined to accept.

“Holy shit, is that Simon Riley? He’s fucking legend.”

“I would climb him like a tree. Mmm.”

Your attention whips from your coworkers to the object of their desires across the bar. Sure enough, his hulking form is sat there with a few other guys. You think you recognize one of them from the medical office. You turn back, trying not to stare.

They drone on about him, wondering if he has a secret girlfriend, wondering if he’s gay, wondering whose advances he would accept out of the group. Finally, one of the girls gets the courage and makes her way over to the table of guys, a slight swish in her hips on approach.

“Bonnie little bird, aye LT?” Soaps asks. He noticed - of course he did. The Scot seems to be the one to really notice him. Don’t get him wrong, so do the other guys - Price especially - but it seems that Johnny really knows him like a brother. His best mate, really. Not that he’d ever say it outloud.

Simon just grunts in response. He thought he was being sneaky with his observations of you, at least enough for Johnny not to notice. You, who didn’t push him to speak, or feel the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. You, who did your best to give him what respect and space you could. You, small, little thing, who didn’t look up at him with terror in your eyes.

His mouth dried up, teeth sticking to his gums. “Saw ‘er for a check up las’ week,” Johnny adds. “Sweet lass.”

Simon straightens his already rigid posture. He knows what Johnny is trying to do, get a rise out of him, see what he’ll divulge. It’s not often Simon notices people who are not threats or targets. He thought about you more than he’d care to admit after his appointment yesterday afternoon.

He pegged you for a chatty little thing. Thought for sure you would be uncomfortable with the silence that usually follows him. He was surprised to be wrong about you. Pleasantly. Didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

“Right sweetheart,” Simon agrees. It comes out of his mouth before he can even stop it. He isn’t sure why it heats his cheeks. Isn’t sure why his cottonmouth is even worse than before. He can feel Johnny grinning beside him.

“Should go talk to ‘er, LT?” Johnny suggests, his voice lower, so the other guys won’t pick up on it. Simon shakes his head and Johnny makes a noise. “Ach, c’mon.”

Simon is about to respond when he notices one of the girls from your group get up and make a beeline to their table. He sees the slight blush that colors your cheeks at her approach, even in the darkness of the bar. She saunters over, eyes locked on him. He clenches his jaw.

“It’s Simon, right?!” she practically squeals. He doesn’t even look at her, his eyes locked onto you, squirming in your seat while watching this unfold. He gives her a grunt in confirmation. She leans onto the table right where he sits and a low chuckle escapes Johnny. She bends down, pushing her breasts together with her arms. “You want to buy me a drink?” she purrs.

“Lass, how about…” Johnny starts, wanting to spare her from whatever it is that Simon will say but his gruff voice cuts him off.

“Not interested.” His eyes still haven’t left yours to look over at her. She straightens up from her position on the table. “So, what? You really are gay then?” Hurt and rejection carries through in the high pitch of her voice.

The lads at the table break out into laughter. Her face reddens and she scoffs before turning away. Simon still looks at you, that sweet pink plump lip of yours nestled softly between your teeth again. He imagines what it would feel like to have it between his teeth instead. He wants to trace his thumb across the span of your lips. You skin so soft under his rough hands. His pants start to tent, blood rushing south.

He clears his throat and adjusts slightly in his seat. “Gonna take a piss,” he says under his breath to Johnny. He expertly maneuvers his way towards the bathroom, sliding through the throngs of people at the bar. He nods to some of the men he knows from various ops on his way there. He stops at the hallway to the bathrooms and when he hears the opening of a door he turns the corner.

“Oof, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!” You squeak out. He places his massive hands on your arms to steady you. “Mr. Riley..” you trail off in recognition.

“Doc,” he nods at you. “Just Simon.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Simon feels a pinch in his chest. “You upset my coworker,” you blurt. Heat rises up your neck, you cheeks flush. His hands are still on you.

“Lemme guess, she’s tryna decide which of the blokes at the table is my secret lover.”

A sly smile breaks out on your face. “Something like that,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans down, having to really bend over to get down to your level. “Who’s your money on, then?” His voice is a gravelly whisper and it causes heat to pool in your lower abdomen.

You bite your lip and it takes every ounce of self control in him not to pull it out with his thumb. He fists his hand so hard, he almost draws blood with his fingernails.

“Blue eyes, sitting next to you,” you finally say.

He lets out a low chuckle and you decide you really like the way that sounds. You want to know how to make him do it again. The noise sends electricity through your body, pebbling your nipples against your lacy bra.

“Solid choice, that.” He straightens back up and you’re reminded again just how big of a man he is. “But I prefer pretty little birds.”

You blink up at him, not quite sure what’s happening right now. You’re trying to meld this Simon to the one in your office yesterday, but they almost seem like two different people. You swallow thickly. Something fills the air between you, something abuzz with energy. Something you’re not sure if you can name.

“You play darts?” he asks suddenly. You shake your head no. You know generally how to play but you’re not very good at it. “You want to learn?”

You pinch your lips together and your eyes flash toward the high top with your coworkers. Simon doesn’t miss this, of course he doesn’t. He holds his breath, waiting for your decision. He wants to put you over his shoulder, walk straight out of the bar and take you home to his flat. But he knows that’s not the way things are done. He doesn’t want to scare you off, not when you're already so receptive to him. So different from the others — like your coworker, who think they are owed some piece of him. So he waits.

“O.. okay,” you finally accept.

Simon smiles under the mask, his eyes crinkling the only indication of his delight.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie and flirting weren't exactly good friends.

See, Eddie had always been bad at flirting if not a disaster at it. And it didn't help when he had a bad habit of going dumb around Steve Harrington—the boy of his dream, the muse of his soul, the sun of his flowers, and the light of his life.

At this point, it was inevitable that whatever he managed to say to Steve always ended up sounding awkward or worse, ominous.

"Why are you staring?" Steve cocked an eyebrow at him, hazel eyes gleaming in amusement.

They were having a movie night at the Munson’s new apartment after holding one at Steve’s just last week.

And as usual, Eddie’s attention was on the other boy, unable to stop gazing at that lovely face.

Sometimes, Eddie still felt like he was hallucinating whenever he hung out with Steve. Because, never in his wildest dream, he would see himself being friends with King Steve.

And yet, against all odds, after surviving Hell together, they had become fast friends and stayed like that for months. These days, Eddie could confidently say that he was Steve's best friend besides Robin.

Then again, he was quite sure Steve wouldn't give him The Moves™️—lips biting, eyes glancing up through lashes, knees squeezing, hips knocking, hands holding—if they were just friends.

So. Flirting.

If only Eddie was all suave and smooth, he bet they would be boyfriends by now, and not whatever that had been going on between them these last few months.

Sorry for staring but your eyes are so beautiful; they’re the most priceless gemstones in the world, sweet candies that I want to possess, a hazel sky that I want to keep drowning in, was all Eddie wanted to say.

But instead, he blurted out. "I wanna lick your eyeballs.”

Horrified, Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth before quickly correcting his grave mistake.

"Wait– I didn't mean that," he flailed his hands around in panic and tried to explain to a wide-eyed Steve. "I meant, I want to keep your eyes to myself– No, that sounds so creepy, oh my god–"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Steve straightened from his comfy position on the couch and held Eddie's hands gently. "Calm down, Eds. Just take your time. I promise I won't go anywhere."

Eddie nodded, heart beating fast under the attention of those warm and kind doe-eyes.

Eventually, he got a grip on himself and turned his hands so he could lace them with Steve. Theirs were about the same size but always fitted so well together like gloves.

Eddie looked up to meet Steve's patient gaze. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The success rate was sixty percent, which was enough for him to work with.

"I uhm, like your eyes a lot,” he cleared his throat slightly. “So can I take you on a date tomorrow?"

In a fleeting second, he feared for a rejection. But then, Steve smiled at him, sweet and pretty, and Eddie was done for.

"My shift lasts until four, so you can pick me up then," Steve gave his hands a light squeeze.

Overwhelmed with joy, Eddie pulled the other boy into his lap to kiss him silly.

Later, they moved into Eddie's bedroom to continue their making out session without worrying about being walked in on by Wayne.

He hunched over Steve with those long legs wrapping around his lower back, and kept peppering Steve's face with kisses because he could never have enough of him.

"Should've," a kiss on the forehead. "Done," a kiss on the eyelid. "This," a kiss on the nose. "Sooner," another kiss on the cheek.

Steve giggled and threaded his fingers into Eddie's hair to pull him down into another tender kiss.

When they parted again, they were both blushing and panting.

Eddie had to refrain himself from grinding against Steve, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his pants on once he succumbed to the siren's call.

Steve didn't share the same sentiments as him, however, when those legs tightened and forced Eddie to scoot in closer, making their clothed erections press into each other.

Even through multiple layers of denim, Eddie still felt the delicious friction that lit him up like wildfire.

"God, you're killing me, sweetheart," Eddie groaned and pecked those pouty lips, red and swollen like sin.

"Haunt me then," Steve whispered and rolled his hips, tempting and alluring. "Make me remember."

Eddie didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just surrendered himself to the siren's call and got lost in the sweet paradise that was Steve Harrington.

Afterward, as Eddie was stroking Steve's naked back absently, he pressed a kiss on Steve's forehead.

"Think we should take it slow, baby?"

"If that's what you want, Eds," Steve shrugged slightly. Then, in a small voice, he glanced up from where he was pillowing on Eddie's chest. "You'll tell me if I move too fast, 'kay?"

"The last thing I'm gonna complain about is you, baby boy," Eddie snorted and tucked a stray hair behind Steve's ear. "I just wanna hear your opinions about our relationship is all."

This time, it was Steve's turn to snort. "Haven't been on a date yet, and here we're already talking about our relationship."

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "We're kinda doing things out of order right now," he gave Steve's forehead another small kiss. "But you were an impatient little thing, sweetheart. Can't imagine what you would've done to me if I hadn't given in earlier."

"Don't pretend like you haven't been desperate to lay your hands on me," Steve rolled his eyes with a quiet huff.

"Keep doing that and you're gonna see how desperate I am, doll face," Eddie said huskily.

"Is that a threat?" Steve raised his eyebrow in challenge, hazel eyes gleaming impishly. "Because it's not working on me, honey."

Eddie's lips stretched into a wide grin and before Steve could taunt him again, he started tickling the other boy.

In the end, Steve had won the tickle war and Eddie had blown him off as a reward.

To no one’s surprise, they managed to go through another round, and by the time they finished, Steve was too out of it to tease Eddie anymore.

The morning after, he had woken up with Steve in his arms.

Once Steve roused, they had made out a bit too long in the bed, exchanged toes-curling handjobs in the bathroom, and had breakfast together with Wayne before leaving for work.

When the time rolled in, Eddie might be a bit too eager to give Steve everything, because he had gone a little overboard for their date night.

But all in all, Steve had enjoyed the dinner Eddie prepared and given him the most legs-shaking blowjob ever when they were watching TV on the couch.

Later that night, having Steve snore blissfully in his arms, Eddie decided that the date was more than a success.

[worldsokayestdragon]

Al post promised day must have the worst poker face of all time. He hasn't had to think about his facial expressions for like 5 years. It probably takes a while to remember people can see that now and get back into the habit of controlling it.

he's trying to act irritated about Ed fussing over him in the hospital and his voice and body language would really be selling it if he didn't have the biggest happiest smile anyone's ever seen. Ed decides not to mention it and just plays along with his little brother's fake annoyance if it makes him happy.

Mustang shows up and starts antagonizing Ed and trying to goad him into a stupid argument (it's their love language) and when Al interrupts to ask how Mustang is doing he sounds concerned and respectful but he's visibly rolling his eyes and shooting Mustang a look that clearly says "you're the dumbest person I know why are you like this?" Mustang laughs so hard he falls out of his chair.

Whenever people make him mad he tries to stay polite unless they've done something really bad. Flying off the handle is more Ed and Winry's thing, and Al's always had better luck getting things to go his way by remaining civil. But that strategy doesn't work as well when his pleasant tone of voice is competing with the absolute death glare he's giving people over minor annoyances.

[oneforthemunny]

baby, you're a haunted house |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: eddie is horrified to find out you don't decorate for halloween, and is determined to fix that. based off this ask request sent in by @harmonib for the spooky stories series :) thank you!!

contains: mentions of shitty parents/ shitty childhood. nothing extremely graphic but touched upon. really the rest is sweet sweet fluff. alludes to smut bc it's them, but nothing graphic. for timeline purposes, set after the engagement.

"That's it?"

Eddie's brow lifted so high that the silver hoop piercing disappeared under his curly bangs.

"Yep." You gave a short nod, hands resting on your hips, looking down at the large plastic bowl, covered in an array of Peanuts characters all in various costumes.

"That's- Baby, are you serious?" Eddie's eyes widened, lips pulling in a look of shock, maybe horror.

You frowned, looking down at the bowl resting on top of the counter. You thought it was cute, you thought Eddie would find it adorable too.

"Yeah, I mean, I know it looks small but I don't get a lot of trick-or-treaters, honestly-"

"-Probably because they think no one's here." Eddie scoffed before he could help it, grimacing at the frown you gave him. "Sorry, but... Sweetheart, this is it? This is all you have? All your Halloween decorations?"

You wrapped your arms around yourself, scowl only deepening on your features making Eddie cringe. "So what? It's a candy bowl. That's all kids care about anyways." You muttered, eyes darting from his gaze back to the bowl.

"But what about you?" Eddie twirled the bowl around, examining the wrap around design on the lip. "You don't like to decorate for yourself?"

"No, not really." Your chin ducked down, toying with the edge of the cream fur trimmed sweater you'd bought yesterday. You had been so excited to go shopping for fall, at the first dip in temperatures. Eddie had promised you he'd take you somewhere with real seasons, back home to Indiana where the leaves actually changed.

"What?" Eddie gawked, lips curling in a soft smile, hoping it would ease you out of your own defenses. He'd grown used to coaxing you out of yourself when you got like this, guarded and snippy when you felt challenged in any way.

"That's shocking. I thought you'd be like, the biggest decorating fan. give Martha Stewart a run for her money." Your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide, eyes finally meeting his.

"I mean, I would like to. I just... I don't know. I've never really decorated before." You admitted, twirling the puffs of fur at the end of the zipper. "My parents didn't ever really decorate so I guess I never got in the habit."

Eddie's eyes widened, blinking in shock. "Ever? They never decorated ever? Not even for Christmas or-or Valentine's Day or something?"

Your face twisted, tight the way it always did when you were talking about something painfully uncomfortable- when you talked about your childhood. "No. Well, we did a few times when I was younger for Christmas and my Dad's parents were still alive. They'd come over and spend Christmas, but my Mom would just hire one of those staging companies to come a few days before Christmas and bring decorations and make it look nice."

"You didn't even have a tree?" Eddie gaped. "Even I had a Christmas tree."

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing in annoyance. "Yeah, congrats, Ed. I had shittier parents than you, I guess." Your tone clipped, dripping in surly sarcasm.

Eddie sucked in a breath, biting his tongue to keep any sharp retorts back. It was still an adjustment, even now that you were engaged, to keep his retorts soft when they needed to be- to be soft with you.

"I didn't-" Eddie's breath huffed, a strangling sigh that kept in the rest of his words. "Go put your shoes on."

"Why?" Nose scrunched in confusion, still lingering with hints of an attitude Eddie was hoping wasn't going to be a problem.

"Because," He grinned, dimples creasing softly into his cheeks. "We're gonna go shopping."

Your eyes lit up, perking at your favorite activity- or so Eddie said since you were always shopping for something. "Shopping?" It was your turn to grin. "For what?"

"Decorations." Eddie nodded firmly, patting his pockets for his wallet, chains jingling on his jeans. "We need some for our house."

"Don't you have some we could use?" Your voice was softer than before, shoulders a little deflated.

"Yeah, but those aren't ours, those are mine." Eddie shook his head. "We need some for both of us. That we both like. So when we're old as shit and putting 'em out, we still like them." He grinned, pinching your cheek gently, heart skipping at the giggle you gave him.

"C'mon, it'll be fun, babe, I promise. You'll like it. Just like when we decorated this house, but better because this isn't boring stuff. It's actually fun." Eddie grinned, motioning towards the painting behind him- a real Van Gogh given to you as a wedding gift, bought off your registry, of the infamous 'Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette'.

"We'll go to that one store you like. The Pierce-"

"-Pier One-"

"-Right. That one. We'll start there, and we can just look everywhere. As long as you want." Eddie's hand slid down the soft cashmere of your sweater, giving your forearms a gentle squeeze that had your skin tingling with excitement.

"As long as I want, hm?" You hummed, brow quipping playfully. "That's a risk, Munson. You're sure you're committing to that?"

"Always committing to you, Munson." Eddie's lips curled. "You know that. As long as you want, wherever you want. We'll hop on a flight to New York if you want to. They might have better stuff, actually. More fall than the places here."

"Hm, that's pretty tempting." Your lips twisted in thought. "I do love New York."

"I know you do." Eddie grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar sparkle of wild that had your knees shaking. "Fuck it, let's go to New York. Go pack."

"Eddie," You gawked lightly, a breathy giggle slipping out with his name. "I- We can't go to New York."

"Why?" Eddie frowned. "I don't have anything to do. Do you?"

"No, but-but I haven't told Jacques. The jet won't be ready-"

"-LAX is still a thing, baby." Eddie teased lightly. "We'll just take the plane down there. Call Jacques and get the jet set up for us to take back. That's when we'll need it, anyways, for all the Halloween stuff we're gonna buy." Eddie's grin only widened, eyes getting more and more wild with the excitement of the trip.

"Go pack. I'll call Nelson, tell him to get us a hotel room at The Plaza- You want The Plaza, right?" Eddie pointed at you, walking towards the phone on the wall in the newly renovated kitchen.

You hesitated, tummy flipping with excitement and rushes of adoration, nodding gently. "I can get Jacques to call instead. He knows the manager there."

"Yeah, you know what, that's probably a good idea." Eddie placed the phone back on the hook. "Last time we stayed there, we kinda fucked the place up. Don't know if they'll let us back. Good call, baby. You call Jacques, and I'll start packing."

Eddie walked past you, ringed hand skittering across your waist, stopping to pull you into him, lips smashed to your in a sweetly steamy kiss.

He pulled back with a wet smack of his lips, grinning wide and bright back at you. "This is gonna be so fun. I can't fuckin' wait."

You giggled in response, brain fuzzy and gooey with a warmth you'd never felt before, not with anyone other than Eddie. Love blinded, completely and utterly by him. Willing to follow him anywhere, and do anything with him, which is why you dialed the phone, feeling like you could float on air as you leaned against the counter, chatting with your family's personal assistant about the spontaneous plans. Jacques' snarly tone of disapproval when you mentioned Eddie couldn't even soil your mood, too stricken with excited affection to be anything other than giddy.

"Oh, what about this one?" Eddie lifted the metal Jack-O-Lantern, spinning it by the painted stem towards you. "This looks like you."

Nearly two hours after landing, you and Eddie hadn't wasted any time. Throwing your bags in the presidential suite before stepping into the chauffeured car, hauling to 5th Avenue.

"I do like that." Your lips curled, running a hand over the smooth surface. "That's really cute. Do they have two?"

"Yeah, they've got a bunch. Look this one has a different face." Eddie beamed with pride, grabbing the other pumpkin, a little taller than the others, making a more shocked face rather than smiling like the other. "Do you want the exact same one?"

"No, I like the different ones. I think that would be pretty by the mantle. On the ledge?" You looked at him, and though you didn't say it, he knew you were looking for approval. Still a little apprehensive at the newness of decorating, unsure that you were doing it right, and just needing that extra push of confidence that Eddie always gave you.

"That would look amazing, yeah." Eddie grinned, curls bobbing as he nodded. He handed the two back to the eager sales person behind him, nodding with a muttered thanks as she took it to the front.

"What about some ghosts?" Eddie reached into the shelf, turning a stuffed ghost holding a stack of pumpkins around to show you. "That looks pretty cool."

"Can you... Do you think it'll match the other?" You bit your lip, fingers twirling the small pumpkin coasters against your palm nervously.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's all Halloween." Eddie grinned softly, a hand on your hip, giving you a sweet, reassuring squeeze. "That's the great part about it, it's all on theme because it's all Halloween. Can't mess it up."

You relaxed under his touch, giving a quick nod. "I do like that." Your head tilted lightly, reaching out to feel the felt ghost. "It's cute."

Eddie nodded with a wide smile, picking it up and curling it against the leather of his jacket. "What about witches hats? Feel like you'd really like the witchy stuff."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You frowned playfully up at him, swallowing back a smile.

His hand moved to the small of your back, rubbing the skin that peeked out gently. "I dunno, you seem like a witchy woman, I guess." Eddie grinned playfully, giving a small shrug at your exaggerated gasp. "Seems like you'd really like that kinda stuff."

"Are you calling me a witch?" You pressed your lips together, slipping down the aisles towards the brooms and pointed hats.

"Nah, you're definitely more of a vampire vibe. Like Camille from Undying Love." Eddie snorted lightly.

"Why? Because I suck the life out of you?" You rolled your eyes, manicured nails raking over a pointed hat covered in stitched beads that made a sparkling spiderweb.

"Well, I mean, you're pretty good at sucking. Give amazing head, baby." Eddie snickered, his own cackles growing watching you squirm, eyes darting around to make sure no one heard.

"You're gross." You rolled your eyes, lips curling in a smug grin you couldn't fight back.

"Yeah, I think you like it." Eddie's hand dipped lower, squeezing your left ass cheek hard enough to have you squealing lightly, ducking down and nipping at the tip of your ear.

"Put it on." He nodded towards the hat your hand was still lingering on. "Wanna see you in it."

You scoffed lightly, picking up the witches hat. "Thought I was more of a vampire type."

"Yeah, I think you are, but I can't know for certain." Eddie shrugged, stepping back. "Lemme see you in it, then I'll make up my mind."

You snorted lightly, situating the witches hat on your head, spinning it so the long sheer fabric was in the back. You threw your hands out gently, pivoting from side to side sillily so Eddie could see, exaggeratedly modeling for him.

The loud wolf whistle he let out took you by surprise, had you jumping and snatching the hat off with a glare. "Ed-"

"-No, baby, that's definitely a keeper." Eddie laughed, uncaring about the others who turned towards the two of you. "I was wrong, you're definitely more of a witch. That looks so good on you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "You're relentless."

"And you're hot." Eddie grinned, tossing you a wink that had you bristling with excitement, turning and hoping he didn't see how flustered it made you.

"We'll be taking this, and definitely this too." Eddie turned to the sales associate, passing off the finds.

"Why are you getting the hat?" You lifted a brow, hand running down the bark of a 'witch broom' that hung on the rack. "Are you going to wear it?"

"Shit, I will if you want me to." Eddie flirted, smoothly sliding his hand back over your waist. "Was thinking you could wear it later tonight. Stop at Vivienne Westwood and pick you out something black and sexy. Really put you into costume."

"Is that right?" Your tongue ran over the inside of your cheek, trying to still yourself, hide your fluster.

"Yeah, c'mon, you know how I love when you dress up for me." Eddie's breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shuddering.

"Thought we were here for Halloween decorations?" Your voice was tight, far squeakier than what you were hoping.

"We're here for that too, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun." He teased, fingers tickling up your waist. "Dressing up in a costume is apart of Halloween, anyways."

You hummed, grabbing at the ceramic bottles of potions, each etched with a different deadly name. "I like those, get those." Eddie nodded, grabbing one of each.

"I like the broom too." You tilted your head over to the one hanging. "And the cauldron. It says it turns on and makes sound."

"See?" Eddie smiled, chin hooking over your shoulder. "Knew you'd like the witchy stuff."

You giggled, turning so your noses were nearly touching. It was nice to be open and affectionate, not have to worry about sneaking around any more or saving the love for behind closed doors.

"It's more fun than the other stuff. Don't you think?" Your eyes batted sweetly at him. Eddie didn't know how to tell you that he'd agree with anything you said in that moment. Instead, he leaned forward, lips pressing against yours, a short but sweet kiss that had you both reeling.

"I love you." Eddie muttered, eyes rounded with affection, nearly drunk off his affection.

"I love you." You giggled, pressing your cheek to his. "This is a lot of fun. I can... I can see why you like it so much."

"Yeah, told you. This isn't even the best part. The best part is when you get to put it all up, ya know? Putting stuff where you want and makin' it all spooky and weird and Halloweeny." Eddie gushed with excitement.

"Yeah." Your tone dropped, looking down at the cauldron in your hand. "Guess I really missed out, huh?"

Eddie frowned, pulling back to look at you, his hand sliding over your jaw, cupping your cheek softly, pulling your gaze up to his. "Hey, c'mon, it's alright." He muttered, voice low in case others could hear.

He leaned forward, tip of his nose to yours, heart aching at the way your lip jutted lightly in a sad pout. "You're never gonna miss out again, alright? I promise you. I'll make sure you never miss out, and when we have our own kids, they won't miss out. Promise."

You moved into his hold, lips beginning to curl in a soft smile. "Thank you." Your voice barely a whisper, taking a slow, steadying breath in.

"I mean it." Eddie nodded fiercely. "You're locked in for life with me, baby, and I swear we'll decorate every single fuckin' holiday until we're a hundred years old."

You held his gaze, locking eyes in such a passionately fierce yet soft way, like you two were the only ones in the store- on the planet, maybe. It felt like that, it always did when you were with Eddie.

"Um," The timid voice of the sales associate brought you both back to reality. "I-I'm sorry, are you still finding everything ok?" She hesitated.

You pulled away, chin ducking with light embarrassment, but Eddie didn't seem bothered. "Yeah, we're gonna take these too." He nodded, passing her the ceramic figures and broom. "Oh, and this." He took the cauldron from you, passing it to her with a muttering of thanks.

"Let's keep looking. I think they said the outside stuff was over here." Eddie's hand found your back, pointing towards the next aisle.

"Outside? I thought you said you had your own outside stuff." You looked at him.

"I do, but I don't think it's really... you." Eddie looked at you with a small smile. "It's kinda scary shit. Not sure that's what you want."

"Do kids like it?"

"I don't know, actually. Never really had trick-or-treaters. I always have a party on Halloween, you remember." Eddie nodded lightly. You did remember, the infamous Halloween rager he had just a year ago. How you'd shown up in a skimpy little costume, resting on the arm of his sworn rival just to piss Eddie off. It had worked, of course, much to your discomfort. Your tummy flipped with heat, hairs raising on your spine at the memory.

"That's right. Are you doing that again this year?" You asked, passing by the plastic graveyard signs.

"I can, if you want." Eddie shrugged. "Up to you."

"Maybe have it start after trick-or-treating is done." Your eyes lingered over the costumes in the corner, a tiny bat onesie that had your heart swelling. "I want to pass out candy this year."

"Done." Eddie nodded. "Usually doesn't start until ten or eleven anyways. Gives us time to change. Shit, that reminds me, we gotta figure out a costume."

"I thought I already had a costume." You nodded towards the front where the witches hat was waiting behind the counter with the rest of your things. "Isn't that why we're going to Vivienne Westwood after this?"

"Nah, that's just for me, baby." Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, pressing a kiss to your head. "That's your costume for me. We need something for the party. Somethin' cool and weird. Gotta be a good one, ya know? Our first Halloween together, together."

You giggled, shaking your head lightly. "I'm sure you'll come up with something good. You always do."

"Needs to be perfect." Eddie nodded, picking up a plastic headstone with Frankenstein's Bride etched on the front. "For my bride." He droned dramatically, leaving you laughing.

"Oh shit, wait, that's actually a good idea." Eddie's eyes lit up. "Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein- oh shit!" Eddie exclaimed, a little too loudly, other patrons glaring at him with cutting eyes.

"I gotta call Ricardo, see if his costume guy can make somethin' happen. Oh man, this is gonna be so good, babe. Gonna be the best fuckin' Halloween ever." Eddie babbled, excited and bubbly with ideas.

Your heart swelled, squeezing his hand in yours as you pulled him down the aisles, letting him ramble about his ideas, decorations, Halloween traditions- everything. You listened, just as excited as he was. You finally would get to have traditions of your own, with a man you loved, in your own home that you decorated with items you both picked out. No longer would the holidays feel meaningless and boring. You finally had what you always wanted, finally found with Eddie.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘THE VALLEY, [hard kinks! hcs]

-GOTHAM!VILLAINS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz, Edward Nygma, Jerome Valeska, Jervis Tetch

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; hard and unusual kinks hcs with the gotham villain men

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. PURE PORN like this is absolutely filthy and descriptive. Some of these are probably too creative and WAY out of character, but oh well. I need to practice my smut writing skills and what better way to do it then with some short scenarios of our boys ? HARD KINKS (all of them are too kinky for there own good) sadomasochistic sex warning for victor and jerome,,, and (sort of?) non-consensual hypnosis warning for jervis, somnophilia and bondage warning for ed. controlling and degrading behavior.

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “Obey, like I’m your master babe.” The Valley by Miguel

He has a habit of leaving in the mornings. He’s a gangster, a crime lord. He loves his job…you think. But it’s hard. Especially seeing him go. Which is why when the two of you fuck, he makes it worth your while.

Yes, he’s shy. He despises indecency. He doesn’t fuck, he makes love. At least, that’s what he likes to think, so you let him.

But you know better. Oswald can’t control anything about himself. The man is impulsive and spoiled. And when he wants you to feel something, you feel it. For better or for worse.

Which is why when he’s awfully pent up and sexually frustrated, you reap the benefits of the king of gotham’s cock pistoning into you. He needs to feel wanted. He needs the two of you to feel loved. He thinks the two of you are sweetly and slowly fucking in his mind. But in reality?

His thick length is hammering into you, selfishly ignoring your pleas. No, he gets drunk on them. Even if he doesn’t want to admit how obscene he’s being.

You’ll feel his sticky tip align with your pussy. He means to enter you slowly, but before you know it, he’s letting himself go. Every inch of his cock is filling you up, taking you in. His eyes are rolling back as he feels you clench around him, and he tries to push all the more unsavory thoughts out of his head.

Thoughts of you tied up. Worshipping him. Unable to resist him. Thoughts of you riding his thighs, while he gives the order to shoot someone dead. The idea of you bending to him, being a good servant. Kissing his shoes, groveling and kneeling. Degrading you.

His fingers sink into the fat of your thighs and ass, clawing at any part of you he can grasp.

His mother taught him better, he reprimands himself. But how can he stay composed and loving when you look at him like he’s the only man in the world?

Oh, he wants to make you feel good, loved, and have this be an act of intimacy. It’s what he was raised to believe sex was for. But he also wants you on your knees, choking on his length, collared like a dog.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “I wanna fuck like we're filming in the valley.” The Valley by Miguel

Victor is always upfront with what he wants. And he’s been around the block one too many times. He’s fucked around quite a bit. He’s a ladies man, what can he say?

Which is why vanilla sex is entirely boring to him. Well, maybe not entirely. Not with you.

But theres something so special about mixing physical pain, his sole desire, with you, his other sole desire. It’s his lifes work, meeting the love of his life. What’s not to like?

Which is why he blunty suggests the idea. And boy is he glad he did.

A phone camera is pushed into your face while he records everything. The sloppy noises of your pretty pink mouth slipping and sliding around his cock.

It’s not just any homemade porno either, no. It’s a borderline snuff film.

He films himself slotting his cock into your swollen lips, one hand recording, another hand on a pistol pressed firmly against your head while you choke on his cock. The gun isn’t loaded of course, at least, you don’t think it is.

If the gun is loaded, you’re sure he’s playing a dangerous game with himself. Testing his own capabilities. He’s the best of the best, and his fingers are placed firmly on the trigger. If he loses control or focus for even a moment, you could never see the light of day again. Each time he cums is like a self-made test for himself, an ego trip. He’s excercising the greatest control not to accidentally pull the trigger and pop your top.

You’re spitting wildly, tears and saliva and cum mixing on your face. You’ve been sucking him off for what feels like hours, playing this game, and it’s still not enough. No, the man could live his whole life with your face inbetween his thighs. You have no clue what round you’re on.

“There you go…sweetness. Uh-huh…take it.” He’ll press the gun further into your temple, talking down to you slowly. It’s awfully demeaning.

He never shuts the fuck up during sex. This is no exception. His dry humor persists in every word, even as his gun comes into contact with your fucked out wet face, or a blade slices through your sweet soft thighs.

He’s doing close-up shots of every cut he makes on your skin. He marks the both of you, respectively. He keeps the videos in his pocket for later. Y’know, just in case you aren’t there, and he needs something to jack off to. He’s a manwhore, and he can admit it.

He’ll ask to show the videos to Wendell. Just so he knows Victor wasn’t lying about his girl being a total catch.

𝐸𝐷𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐷 𝑁𝑌𝐺𝑀𝐴

♫ “I wanna taste your sweat, force my fingers in your mouth.” The Valley by Miguel

Oh, Eddy. Ever the show man. Oddly enough, I think he has the dirtiest mind and the highest sex drive out of everyone on this list. In the words of CMS, "He loves donuts and getting laid." You're no exception babe.

Similarly, he isn't the kinkiest when he's at the GCPD. The poor baby is so vanilla; so eager to please. If you want a man to put your needs above his own? Look no further. Eddy is your guy. But similar to Ozzy, the man grapples with control. How can he resist when your small sleeping body looks so innocent? So willing?

You wake up to him pumping his dick deep into your hole, groping your breasts and ass, hips plowing harshly into your stretched cunt. He wants to apologize, for waking you. He feels bad of taking advantage of you. But it's your fault. The man is a little bit of a creep and has gone his whole life without pussy. What did you expect?

That being said...when he undergoes his transformation of sorts? It's like he has something to prove, to you and himself. Riddler baby is tired of hiding in the shadows, no, it's show time. If you thought the somnophilia was kinky, you've seen nothing yet.

Season 3-4 Ed is desperate to dominate you. Claim you in every way. Prove to himself that you're not going anywhere. It's a deep seated need to exert control, with a touch of dramatic flair.

Which is why, from time to time, especially on special occasions, you'll wake up from being drugged, ball-gagged in a warehouse, tied to a chair, moaning around a vibrator overstimulated against your cunny. He'll watch the whole show, pleased with his handiwork.

Might even turn it into a game. How many riddles can you answer? Maybe if you get one right, he'll let you cum. And if you don't get one right, prepare to be in for a long, long night.

Ed's pushing his thick long fingers into your tight little pussy, watching your cream spread along his fingertips. He'll force his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Making you taste what he's doing to you.

He's giggling while he does so, smile wide while you gag around him. Oh, this will be fun.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴

♫ “lips, tits, clit, sit.” The Valley by Miguel

Would it be too brave to go on record to say the mans a virgin? I'm sorry, but he didn't get any pussy in that carnival.

Which is why he's incredibly sex starved. The man is feral. Hungry. He fucks you like a dog in heat half the time. You're his own personal pocket pussy, who will love him no matter what.

So when he tells you to do something, you better do it.

For instance, when he tells you to sit on his face, he means sit. No hovering. No, he wants the entirety of your weight in his mouth so he can tongue fuck you into oblivion.

He's wildly gripping at you, laughing like a mad man as he keeps you in place firmly. He's digging into your cunt with his tongue like a man whose getting his first lick of pussy. He's slapping your ass, letting you ride his face like a cowgirl.

He'll slap your sopping cunt. He'll spit in your mouth, on your face, on your pussy. He loves everything feral and sloppy. And for his own good, the man can't shut up. He loves some good dirty talk.

"Hah! There you go, doll. You want it raw? You do, don'tcha? Naughty, naughty girl." Excuse his breeding kink. "Should just pump you right up with my cum. Get you all messy. Cream-pie you riiiiiiight here," He cackles, hand hovering over you're lower stomach.

He likes seeing your face contort in pleasure and pain when your thighs scratch the staples on his face.

Oh, he's a biter. Your thighs might be bleeding by the time he's done, biting hard enough to break skin. You'll yelp in pain and it will spur him on, like you're his own personal show to watch.

God, please hit him back. Slap him. Push him around. He adores it- the two of you fucking like wild animals, clawing and at each others throats, all the while his girthy length his pounding into your sweet tight hole.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻

♫ “Tell me that you love it darling." The Valley by Miguel

Jervis has a very deep seated need to have you close to him. To have you bonded with him. He's obsessive, clingy, stalkerish. And he loves a good old fashioned Victorian flirtation. But god, he gets tired of waiting.

He's a gentlemen through and through. But even gentlemen have needs. And when he sees you in that light blue dress he bought you, pussy peaking out through the short skirt? Or how you lick your lips when the tea he makes you dribbles down?

He'll have to take what he wants eventually.

He knows you'll say yes. Even though the two of you have never talked about sex. No, you're his Alice. His willing little girl. Why would you ever say no to him? And he's right. He could ask, and you would probably say yes.

But, just for a precaution...Can't have you running off like the white rabbit, can he?

It will be late night after the two of you have tea. And he'll pull out his pocket watch. And before you know it, you'll be pinned on top a table, dress pooling between your legs, pulling on his hair against your will.

It's a sight he will never sick of. His sticky ropes of cum dripping, tainting the dress he'd bought you. It trickles down from your spine. You'll be too fucked out to walk the next day, and you won't even remember why.

He takes you, ignoring your pleas and whines of overstimulation. He'll continue to stuff his cock inside you until he feels pity for you.

Hypnotizing you while he's balls-deep inside of you, messily thrusting as he tries to concentrate. "You love this. Tell me you love me. Tell me you love this." His words scramble as he comes undone himself, letting your mind wash over and speak the words against your will.

If somehow you piece two and two together, the cum stains on your dress- and the feeling of being stretched out the next morning...assure him he doesn't have to hypnotize you.

Or let him keep it up. It's more fun for him this way.