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hyperballart · 2 months

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last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.”

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

#dont know how to feel about this tbh #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #artrick x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers smut #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #my writing

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fountainpenguin · 5 months

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Tango and GeminiTay visit Etho post-charity stream travel while Grian interacts via chat. Etho says he and Joel were alone all week and everybody teases him.

19 minutes into Tango's "I AM THE MASTER" stream, April 2024

Transcript:

Tango: So, Etho, what did you do all week by yourself? Were you lonely?

Etho: Dude, it was so dead on this server-

Tango: It was so quiet! I know.

Gem, overlapping: Did you miss us?

Tango, overlapping: He DID! He did!

Gem: Awww!

Etho: A little bit... It was just like- It was like Joel and me, and...................... and that was about it... And Cub came back eventually.

Gem, overlapping: Of COURSE you mention Joel first.

Tango: Yep, yep; of course.

Tango, quietly sing-songing: Obsessed~ ... Obsessed...

Etho: [Laughs]

Gem: Not your neighbor, Cub. JOEL. Joel's top of the list.

Etho: But I couldn't even go see Joel because it would've been awkward to, like... just be alone.

Gem: You poor thing...

Tango, reading Grian's message in chat: 'Joel is enough for you.' Yeah...... I see more statues popping up- Who's making them?

Etho: Not me! Okay, something weird is going on- I don't know the deal behind it-

Tango, laughing: Uh-huh...

Etho: I've made two statues... Total.

Tango: Which ones did you make?

Etho: The Joel one... and the other one's... a secret.

[End]

Next, Tango and Gem tease Etho because they're pretty sure the other statues he built are the giant Etho statues, implied to be something he put in front of Joel's base himself. Etho says this is "not confirmed in his video."

#Hermitcraft #hermitblr #Hermitcraft Season 10 #Boat Boys #TangoTek #EthosLab #GeminiTay #Grian #Joel Smallishbeans #This was such a pain to get a video for and someone may have done it already but I needed it on my blog. Laughed too much #The sheer hilarity of Etho going from 'I can't be alone with Joel or it'd be awkward' to 'Yeah I built two giant statues of him'#Yeah yeah we know you like your soulmate. gg.#2 hours 7 minutes in Tango also gets excited because Jimmy shows up in his chat and Tango VIPs him. lol.#Glad you're equally enjoying your soulmate you goof #Riddle watches Hermits #traffic soulmates #videos #mcyt

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nexysworld · 8 months

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Summary: Leon is sent on a mission to carry out a hit for the government. He hated these missions the most, but worst of all you weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see him. Pairing: ID!Assassin Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, canon typical gore, graphic depictions of murder, comfort sex, mild dubcon, unprotected sex, fem!receiving oral sex, soft sex, angsty sex, hurt/comfort/hurt, dark content, descriptions of wound dressing. WC: 5.2k

A/N: This was a birthday fic for the wonderful @elfven-blog. <3 Title from the lyrics to the song Sextape by Deftones. Edit: I also have a bot based on this fic now: Character AI | Spicychat

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

Cool air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck, limbs tingling with the typical anticipation of what came next. Hits weren’t his favorite type of mission, not by a longshot, he wanted to save people, not kill them. But with experience came a certain professional numbness and a way to compartmentalize. It didn’t help that the locale for this affair was in the dead center of a suburban upper class neighborhood. Every home had that same limestone brick or white overlapping paneling. Every door the same mahogany brown, tacky lawn gnomes, overly green grass, white picket fences – the works. The possibility of witnesses was high, the escape routes limited.

Regardless, Leon was a professional, and he would make it work. He always did.

Tilting his wrist, he looked down at the gold rolex, it was a little past 2:30am. He listened closely, to ensure there was no movement inside. The double windowed back doors were his point of entry. The brass knobs were old, the locks inside not quite as intricate as modern ones, all it took was a good smack against the swiss army knife he’d jammed into it for the lock to click open. The door opened quietly, he made sure to not close it completely behind him to ensure he could make his escape.

The house had an eerie quiet over it, almost like the universe knew what was about to happen. Leon cracked his neck and let out a breath, careful to not touch anything as he moved throughout the lower floor, clearing each room. The kitchen was pristine, nothing out of place on the island or counter. There was no homely smell of food, only the lingering scent of some harsh cleaner. Not a sign that anyone had even been down there within the past several hours – a good thing, he noted. Through the archway came the living room, he had been hopeful someone had opted to sleep on the couch, separate targets were easier targets. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t so lucky.

The plush gray sectional was untouched, not so much as a divet into the cushion. The TV remote lay on the dark oak coffee table. Unlike the kitchen, this room felt more homely. The faint smell of some fruity air freshener was all over, the cherry walls were lined with gold plated frames of the family.

His target was some small town politician, Jackson Moore, normally somebody not noteworthy to the government in the slightest, but he made the unfortunate mistake of shaking hands with terrorists, facilitating the sale of some new viral invention through the local pharmacies. The idea of another Raccoon City incident made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure who he held more anger for, the people like this person who’d bring it about, or the government that he knew turned a blind eye until now – the same government who wouldn’t make the effort to save the people who uphold it.

He shook his head, and pushed his bangs back refocusing for a moment. He scanned over the pictures. Most normal family outings, some graduation photos and holiday ones in there. Hunnigan had told him beforehand that all of the kids were off to college, none due back for several more weeks. The only targets in the house were Mr. and Mrs. Moore.

There was only one more room on the bottom floor, where he was sure his victims were, the master bedroom. Leon made his way over, silently padding down the short hall staring at the door. It was cracked, the sound of light snoring and the smell of mint wafting from the room. He peeked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room, a string of moonlight the only thing illuminating the sleeping lumps on the bed.

He tested the door, it squealed slightly as it opened making him freeze. One of the sleeping forms moved slightly rolling over. He waited, still as a statue until he was sure that both still remained asleep before sliding himself through the narrow opening he’d made.

Looming over the sleeping forms, he pulled his gun out from it’s holster attached to his waist. Even with the silencer, he knew he needed to be quick. One shot would wake the other, and then it was a matter of speed. He cocked the pistol, taking a few more steps towards the unaware persons before him. The gun felt heavy in his hand, but he lifted it anyway, deciding to start with the official target first.

Will the trigger pulled back, the room lit up for a split second with the bang of the gun. Time slowed as he watched the man’s body jolt slightly, blood splattering onto the pillow, the walls. The smell of gunpowder and iron hit his nose. The man’s fingers twitched slightly before his movement stopped. Just like he had expected, his wife was awake instantly, though no noise came from her.

Wide eyed, she stared at Leon, then down at her husband next to her. Her mouth opened like she was trying to scream, but the noise was caught in her throat, tears welled in the woman’s eyes. Blood had splattered onto her too, some chunks of brain along with it dripped from her curlers onto her lap. Her trembling hands reached over to her husband, “Jacks.” She whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his deformed face. “Jacks.” She leaned over the man, trying to scoop the bits and pieces of him back together.

Leon wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to wonder if that’s how someone might react to his death some day. But he pushed those feelings aside, she was a target, culpable in everything just as her husband was. He lifted the gun again, pointing it at her.

As she looked at him, eyes wide with fear, her mouth formed the shape of a word. He didn’t need to hear it to know it was a plea. He pulled the trigger again.

Deadshot, like putting down an animal, between the eyes.

Her body crumbled over itself as she slumped forward onto the bed, the back of her head exploded open like a volcano of bone, blood, and brain matter.

Not dwelling on it, he put his finger to the device in his ear. “It’s done, Hunnigan.” “Good work Leon. I’ll make sure that –”

“Hey mom, you still up? I thought I heard something.”

The soft voice pulled Leon from his conversation, there were footsteps out in the hallway and the sound of a lightswitch clicking on. ‘Shit.’ He cursed to himself inwardly. He took a few steps back from the door, whispering to Hunnigan. “You said there were no other targets here.” “There aren't –” “The daughter is home.” “Does she know you’re there?” “No, not yet.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before she spoke again. “Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was serious, she knew him well enough after all these years to know his thoughts. “Leave no witnesses.” “There won’t be, she doesn’t even know I'm here.” The sound of the fridge opening and closing indicated the girl’s location. “Everyone at the location is a target, Leon. Everyone at the location is a witness.” “Not if she – “ “Leon, this is an order.” “I can wait for her –” “Leon –”

“She doesn’t have to die.” “Dad, is that you?” The sound of his voice, despite him doing his best to stay at a whisper, must've alerted the girl. There was shuffling around on the other end of the line, the next voice he heard made his blood cold. The head of the D.S.O shouting into his ear. “Kennedy, this is an order, kill her! Complete the mission. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.” He said flatly, disconnecting from the call. In a worse stroke of bad luck, the door to the bedroom swung open nearly at the same time.

And there you were.

Glass shattering as it hit the floor, water splattering around as the light from the hallway lit up the room from the opened door. You trembled in place as you processed the sight of things. Leon was frozen where he stood too. You were an adult, but young, more importantly innocent in all of this. Rarely in his forced-on-him career has he had to kill someone completely innocent. Usually it was the partners of criminals, civilians caught in crossfire. But never someone as young as you, never in a situation so targeted.

He hardly registered the shriek you made before you bolted. Acting purely on instinct he took off after you, the delay of his own shock didn’t matter much when he noticed the slimy trail of bloody footprints from where you’d ran through the glass left in the hallway. His own boots crunching it against the ground as he moved. If you had been smart, you’d have turned for the front door, or even the back. Instead, nearly sliding on your own blood you went for the staircase, the one route that would trap you on the upper floor. You let out a yelp of pain, trying your hardest to only use your less injured foot to bounce up the stairs as quickly as you could, the blood matting down into the carpet with each step.

It didn’t take long for Leon to catch up, thumping up each one loudly as his boots made contact. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take his gun out, why he was even letting you attempt this unwinnable escape, he also didn’t know. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable.

He reached out for you just as you made it to the top of the stairs. A simple shove was all it took to send you flying into the decorative hall table that waited at the top. A sickening crack was heard as your head collided with the dark wood, knocking it over as you rolled over with a groan, dazed from it. Managing to prop yourself up on your elbows, Leon could see the trickle of blood that began to run down your eye and cheek, along with the starting to swell shiner from your high-speed table collision.

You scuttled backwards, as best you could, haphazardly tossing the vase that had fallen at him. It missed, and went crashing onto the stairs. Tears mixed with the blood on your face, diluting the color, only leaving the dry specs stuck there. You looked pathetic and terrified in a way that made Leon’s heart twist.

“P-please… don’t.” You pleaded, putting your hand out and up as if that simple gesture would be enough to stop him, distance him from yourself.

He couldn’t do this, at least not like this. He kneeled before you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his hand. “Shhhh. Shhh.”

“P-please… I won’t tell any–” “It’s ok,” he cooed. “It’s not my style to hurt pretty girls, you know that?” He added as he scooped you up from the ground bridal style. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Getting his DNA all over you, getting your blood on him. This wasn’t a clean kill, this wasn’t what the upper brass wanted. For the moment though, he didn’t care. “Where’s your room, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t point or make a sound, your eyes darted from him to the cracked door next to him and then back to him as you shook in his hold. He wedged it open the rest of the way with his foot, before gently placing you down on your bed. It didn’t look right, all the blood staining into the fresh and plush sheets. It was different than your parents downstairs, the whole room screamed you. From the decor on the walls, to the laptop on the nightstand, your college hoodie hanging off the back of the chair at your desk. More reminders that you didn’t deserve this.

Before you could, he swiped the phone off of the side table, stuffing it into his pant pocket. “I know you hurt right now.” He said sweetly, “Give me a minute and we’ll get you all cleaned up, alright?” He gave you a moment to process his words. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He asked himself, as he held your hand, patting your arm gently. He could see the confusion in your eyes as the gears in your head turned to try and make a decision – timidly you nodded. He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl. Stay here for me, no funny business.” Pointing a finger gun at you before he slipped out into the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom.

The suddenly bright lighting stung his eyes, he saw himself in the mirror, your blood speckled onto his jacket, some dried to his face. He looked rough, a cold sweat broken out onto his face, blue eyes distant looking back at himself. He splashed some cold water onto his face to calm his nerves before digging around to see if there was anything he could use to alleviate some of your pain, even if temporarily. The medicine cabinet was well stocked, though nothing would be enough to really combat the pain of your cracked head and torn up feet. He bit his lip as he grabbed some bandages and the bottle of peroxide.

First aide wasn’t really his specialty, but he knew enough from training. Along with the other supplies, he filled the empty cup on the counter with warm soap water, and took the washcloth with him.

To his surprise you were exactly where he’d left you, splayed out on the bed, looking scared and exhausted. Your head rested against the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a look at your feet first.” Not that he really gave you the option, but you nodded in return. Leon was no stranger to gore, guts, and the rest, but something about them gave him pause. There was so much blood he could hardly see what was skin and what was glass. “It might sting just a little.” He assured, pouring the cold liquid out onto your feet. You hissed and squirmed a bit, but he placed his arm over your ankles to keep them still, watching as the peroxide bubbled, clearing away the redness of the blood. Small pieces of glass fell with it onto the now stained carpet. He opted to speak to you, see if he could get you to calm down some more while he worked, pouring more over the wounds. “You’re in college?” There was something about you that was indescribable to him, familiar to him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah.” Finally you answered with words, voice barely above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be at school then? I thought the semester was still going.” He as he checked you over for any more obvious glass. When it was clear the peroxide had done it’s job, he took the bandages, gently wrapping them around your feet, gauze padding them.

“D-dropped out.” You squeaked out. “Last minute decision, had to come home.” He tied off the bandage before moving to look at your face. “School’s not for everyone. You’re probably better off without it.” Leon dipped the washcloth into the cup, wringing it out over the carpet, not really caring about the mess. He dabbed it gently against your injured face, helping to remove the remaining mess and to get a better look. Luckily the cut above your eye seemed superficial and the blood had stopped running, it was just a matter of cleaning up the dried mess that was left over. He was careful around the tender purple skin as he cleared as much as he could. “You have a boyfriend you leave back at school?”

“No. Never had one at all actually.” You replied, wincing when he accidentally touched a painful spot. “Never had one?” He asked more for himself than as a real question to you. ‘Hasn’t finished school, never had a boyfriend. This is so fucked up. She can’t be any older than Ashley was…’ He thought to himself, debating whether the court marshalling would be worth letting you go. In the same train of thought, he considered what would happen to you if he did. The government would probably send someone else just like him, someone less soft. He bristled at the thought, sitting up straight on the side of your bed. “That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a cute girl like you would be drowning in guys asking her out.” “Not really” You seemed to relax a bit now, well as relaxed as a person could be in your state. He could still tell from your blown pupils and 1000 mile stare that you were still in shock. Probably a good thing. “My parents are… were, strict.” Your face contorted like you were about to be sick at the memory.

Leon went back to stroking your cheek gently for comfort. “So no boyfriend, ever have your first kiss? First time?” Now that he had a better chance to really look at you, all cleaned up he realized who you reminded him of. Not so much Ashley, she was more strong willed and you didn’t quite look the part either. It wasn’t just the age, no…your voice, mannerisms, the way you looked. It was so very much her. Someone he hadn’t thought about since before even Raccoon City.

“Yeah. Wasn’t very good, some drunk frat boy.” You admitted leaning slightly into his touch. Silence passed between you both, nothing but the ceiling fan whirring above you. An automated air freshener spritzed roses and lilac into the air, barely covering the distinct peroxide and blood smell. Leon was surprised when you finally spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

The look on your face gutted him more than it should have. “I had to.” “Because of his job?” “Something like that, yeah.” “Did he deserve it?” “Yeah.”

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. There was another tense silence before you spoke again. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He felt a chill ran over his body at the question. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. “I don’t want to.” It wasn’t a real answer and he knew that, but it was honest. “Why are you being nice to me?” “I told you, I don’t like to hurt cute girls.” “That’s not it.”

How you read him for filth like that he’ll never know. “You remind me of someone.” He leaned back just enough to look at you again, but kept your faces close, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Who was she?” “My first girlfriend.” He admitted. “What happened to her?” “We broke up.” He said with a short laugh. “Right before my very first day as a cop.” While the conversation was far from appropriate for the situation, he supposed it worked to calm you down more as he felt you relax into the bed. His internal struggle was still playing tug-of-war with his psyche, not sure of how to proceed.

The piece in his ear picked up with some static before Hunnigan’s familiar voice was heard. “Leon are you there?”

He ignored her in favor of continuing to dote over you, hand gently running through your hair, taking in your features more. That trepidation never left your eyes – he understood it. He probably looked psychotic right now, a murderer who was being eerily kind. He was self aware enough to know that much.

“Leon, we haven’t heard a status report. Has the last target been eliminated?” She spoke loud enough this time that while it couldn’t have been above the lowest whisper for you, it was obvious you heard it, eyes widened again, mouth opening slightly. To keep you quiet he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, a soft kiss you didn’t really return. “Stay quiet for me, ok?” He mumbled against your lips, before sitting up again. He considered replying to Hunnigan, but looking down at you, he took his earpiece out, tossing it to the other side of the room instead.

Hey eyed you again, before adding another kiss. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He reprimanded himself, as he placed another this time to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then jaw. Another on your neck for good measure. ‘I should’ve done it the second she opened the door. I should’ve done my job.’ Despite his mind’s dialogue he continued now at your collar bone. ‘Like ripping off a band aid…. I can’t let her last moments be like that.’ He began to rationalize as he looked up at you. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Wh-what?” “You deserve better than a drunk frat boy. Let me make you feel good.” He repeated. “Why?” “Because I want to.” He could clock the nervousness in your voice immediately. “You can say no.” He added. “I’m not a rapist.”

“A-are you going to kill me if I say no?” “No, of course not.” Again, it wasn’t technically a lie. He wouldn’t be doing it because you declined, but he felt mild disgust with himself for side-stepping the reality of the situation again. ‘It’s better this way though. For her.’

“Ok.” You said, nodding at him to continue. He treated you like glass, gently working your thin tank top up and over your breasts. He continued by kissing each one tenderly before taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until he felt it pebble. When you whimpered at the feeling, he began to suck on it, kneading your other breast with his hand. When he pulled himself off with a pop, he looked down at you, lips parted, eyes closed. Enjoying so much despite him having done so little. Adorable.

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip until he saw those pretty eyes crack open before capturing your lips again, taking the chance to slip his tongue inside once parted. You were sloppy with inexperience, but tasted like dessert, sweet. It made his cock twitch against his pants. He groaned slightly into your mouth, ignoring his own need. Pulling away he let you catch your breath, giving him the chance to move down your body one kiss under your breasts. The next above your naval – stomach contracting slightly. He added one more above the hem of your night pants.

He looked up at you, silently checking with you if it was alright to continue again. When you nodded, he helped you out of the pants. Gently tugging them down from the waist band, lifting each separate leg himself, careful to not hurt your already injured feet. “You alright?” “Y-yeah.”

“Let me know if anything hurts, ok?” “Ok.” “Good girl.”

Leon tugged his leather jacket off discarding it on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He claimed a spot between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder for better access to what he was about to do. He gave a reassuring kiss to your thigh, using a free hand to part your folds, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. He eyed you watching as you melted under his touch, soft whimpers tickling at his eardrums. “Such a pretty girl.” He cooed, replacing his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive bud.

He had to grind down on the bed himself to relieve some of his own tension, reminding himself to keep his focus on you. His grip on your leg tightened as you arched your back, squirming more and more against his touch. “God…oh god…” You chanted, head tossed back, the leg draped over his shoulder kicking at his back. He knew you were close when your voice cracked, soft gasps escaped your lips. He continued lapping at you as you ground against his face, letting you ride through your orgasm – only stopping when your hands made purchase in his hair to get his attention. “C-can’t…can’t.”

Pulling back, he wiped your slick off his chin with his forearm, looking down at you. He watched as your chest heaved slowly, returning to a normal rhythm. Your uninjured eye was lidded less with shock and more with that familiar coming down of pleasure. He went to move back when you grabbed his arm, looking directly at him. “What about you?” He was a little shocked by the words, your concern for him. “I said I wanted to make you feel good.” He chalked it up to your likely traumatized and now lust hazed brain. “Don’t worry about me.” Leon made the motion to move again. “Wait.” You called, grip on his arm tightening. “What if… what if I want to?”

He didn’t move, unsure of how to respond. He’d already fucked up the mission, already covered you in his DNA, yours on him – but he couldn’t do what you were asking. That was too far.

“P-please?” You choked out, tears now welling in your eyes, spilling over and staining your cheeks again.

And just like that he was taken back to that day again, right before Raccoon City. A night he swore was the worst of his life, until he knew better. Sitting there across from him, begging him not to go – you sounded just like her too, like she was frozen in time beneath him. Even worse, this was the opposite of what he wanted, he wanted to make things easier for you, relax you. “I just want to be close, please? Please?” You were full on crying now, face scrunching up, barely able to catch your breath. “Ok. Ok.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do you want me to take you?” Your words came out between sniffles and hiccups. “Any way, you want.”

He nodded, sitting back enough to help you sit up, slipping your shirt off all the way. “Can you flip over for me? Lay down flat on your stomach.” He helped you comply with the command, still careful of your injuries. He could see the bandages on your feet had turned a slight pink. Once you were laid out the way he wanted, relaxed, face down into the pillow, he worked his own shirt off, tossing it over in a pile atop his jacket. His gun was removed from the holster, he was careful to lock the safety, discarding it with his other items. He left his pants on, undoing them enough to free his half hard cock, the head still weeping.

He spat in his hand, giving himself a few good tugs, feeling himself hardening fully again. “You ready?” “Yeah.” He crawled forward, gently lifting your butt up just enough for him to line himself at your soaking entrance. He grunted when he pressed in, you sucking him in warm and wet. He let you take a moment to relax down again as he leaned forward, pressing the entirety of his bare chest to your back, sinking his cock in slowly until he was buried all the way inside of your heat.

He kissed up your shoulders, and neck, rolling his hips into your slowly. “God you’re tight baby.” He whispered against your ear. He didn’t have the heart to rail you into the mattress, wanting to abate your request for closeness, intimacy. “S’big…” You lazily mumbled into the pillow. “I know, I know.” He crooned your neck just enough for him to lock your lips together again. “But you’re doing so good, taking me so well.” Letting you rest, he returned to focusing on the motion of setting a steady but not too rough pace, angling himself so that he hit that spot inside of you that had you whimpering again. He rewarded the noises by rolling you both onto the side, where he could wrap an arm around you like a tight hug, leg gently pulled over over his own so he had a better angle. Likely for the best, Leon was close already, he slowed down more, returning to simply rolling his hips as he trailed his hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your naval and thighs before rubbing at your clit for a bit as he kissed and sucked softly against your neck. He fucked you like he would’ve done to her, like you were his lover, the most important thing to him.

Your velvet walls felt like heaven as they squeezed against him, closer and closer to your own second orgasm. “That’s it baby.” He whispered hotly against your ear. “One more time for me, ok?” He sped up his fingers, feeling you tighten around him so much that he nearly felt his own eyes roll back. “G-good girl.” He praised, gripping your hip to speed up his own movements, his balls tightening as he came, cock throbbing as spurts of his seed painted your insides.

Leon held you like that for a while, curling in on you, offering soft praises as he nuzzled into your neck from behind. He didn’t move a muscle until your breath evened out completely, and he could tell by the low thrum of your heartbeat that you were incredibly close, if not already asleep. He looked up at the clock on the nightstand – 4:45am it read. He had about 20 more minutes max before someone from HQ would be sent in as backup, now that he’d been MIA for so long.

Now fully soft, he gently pulled himself out of you, and carefully rolled off the bed. He watched you for any more signs of movement as he buckled back up and redressed. There was that eerie silence settling over the house again, he felt heavy with the weight of the evening crushing against him like an invisible force. He wished for a moment that the world would swallow him up where he stood so he didn’t have to face his responsibilities, the consequences.

You looked peaceful laying there. He knew it was just the exhaustion, shock, and grief, that kept you tugged under the waves of unconsciousness, but for his own sake he pretended you were in a truly relaxed state. Moreso, he was glad you wouldn’t experience any more of that pain or fear tonight. Leon clicked the safety off the gun, watching you for any signs of movement. Not even a twitch as he cocked the gun again. He walked over, sitting at the side of the bed again, eyeing you over one more time. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a lot of things at that moment, his ex all over again, your future, another piece of the man he wanted to be. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, you know?” He whispered, mostly to himself as he pressed the barrel of the pistol to the pillow.

He couldn’t look this time. He wouldn’t look this time. His chest tightened, having to take a moment to stop the bile trying to work its way up, and the urge to cry that had him wanting to heave against the floor. He grabbed his earpiece as he made his exit.

“This is Kennedy to HQ – the last target has been exterminated.”

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trafficblrpositivityproject · 2 months

Text

The queue is empty right now! After several hundred asks, I am all out! (✨0✨)

I would like to send out a thank you from me to all of you. Thank you all for helping me out with this project and uplifting other members of the fan base. Thank you for sharing this blog’s introductory post and helping me on my mission. Thanks to everyone who has sent in asks about me and this project. This blog literally cannot function without the help and love from all of you, so I thank you for helping me keep it running so far!

This project will continue for as long as you are willing to send in asks to it! If you have been thinking of submitting an ask, now is the time!

If you want some ideas, here are things you can send asks about.

• Your favorite artists and writers, of course! You are all very good at this so far. If you want to specifically highlight certain pieces or art or writing, go ahead! I will not take links or imbedded images—I do not want to be reposting or accidentally open the door for people to send me spam links—but if you want to describe them, that would be fine.

• Creators of less “popular” types of media like cosplay, songs, collages and web weaves, textiles, and anything else I’m missing! These art forms do not always get as much attention, so all the more reason to send them love!

• Your favorite theorists and analysts! Share about your favorite theories as well, and why you like them!

• Your friends! “My friend [URL] is really cool” is a very good ask! Not everyone submitted here needs to be a creator, or be here because they’re a creator. I do not want people to think that this blog is just for people who are “famous,” anyone can submit asks about anyone for any reason.

• Similar, people who have supported you. Friends who brought you into the series, people who regularly leave nice tags and engage with your work. Send some love back to the people who have been cheering you on!

• Events and zines! The fandom could not survive without the work of event weeks/months and zines. And I definitely do not mind being free advertising for the events and zines you all are in ;)

• Former members of the fandom who are no longer active or have moved fandoms. If they used to enjoy life series and have since moved on, they still count.

And I will remind you I am perfectly happy to take submissions on people with a degree or two of separation from trafficblr. Hermitblr and Empiresblr accounts, or bloggers posting about other overlapping SMPs and series like POW and MCC. Or participants in fan made Life Series. As long as there is some sort of overlap, I will not be fact checking.

Repeating the same person who has already been submitted is also fine. If you wanted to send me the same person every single day for a month I would not stop you. Just keep your ask positive and include fewer than 5 people, and we are golden.

All I want is to make this fandom a little more positive. I thank you all again so much for helping me so far, and if this is as far as I go, I will feel very satisfied with how we have done.

Thank you again, everyone, from the ferryman! <3

#talk tag

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who-is-there · 5 months

Text

Deciding to write a fantasy high au where the Rat Grinders hide their connection to the overarching plan better than in canon. This is achieved by them actually (basically) stalking the Bad Kids everywhere, so they know more.

Or that was the plan. But it turns out that Kipperlily is really the only one sneaky enough to get away with it, so for the time skip between the beginning of Sophomore year and spring break, the Bad Kids keep accidentally finding the Rat Grinders watching them. It’s weird the first few times, but then the Rat Grinders are sort of- unofficially invited? to hang out with the Bad Kids? Like, they aren’t told when and where, but the Bad Kids usually just invite them into the conversation and talk to them more if they’re found out. Kipperlily encourages this because it means they’ve got more intell.

Except that’s not what happens. They ask Ruben about school, and the way he describes bard classes actually convinces Fig to give them a try. She introduces him to new music, and they start writing songs for each other to look over. When Fig starts her band, she asks Ruben and his band to be her first opener. The two have a decent overlap in audience, but they also pull their own listeners into each others music.

When Fabian asks Mary Ann about her tamagotchi friend, she’s the most excited they’ve seen her. Gorgug asks about it a little, and confines that it’s the small, complex kind of tech he’d never be able to make. The bad kids encourage him, and around winter break he comes in with a- strange looking bird that he says is named Chloe, but that’s not what it responds to. A few weeks after they come back from their spring break, Gorgug gives Mary Ann a construct of her tamagotchi, small enough to fit in her bag, and she cries.

Ivy tries to get Fig on the ‘mean girl’ idea, but Fig shuts it down pretty quickly. She introduces Ivy to Baxter, and Ivy now comes to the Manor solely to pet him. She meets Sandra-Lynn, who sees this girl that is almost her, and asks Jawbone to have a talk with her, just once. Ivy tends to be quieter nowadays, but a little nicer too, and Fig can understand her mom a little more with Ivy next to her.

Adaine and Oisin meet earlier, and the two talk more about their school work. Adaine apologises for not remembering him, and the two are a speed team in their class that semester. The first time Oisin made a comment concerning lower classes, Fabian pulled him aside and they have a talk about family, and what it means to use your class to help others rather than insult them. They both come out of it a little better.

Lucy and Kristin talk some. Kristin still likes hearing about other Gods, and Lucy doesn’t often get to talk about her ancestral religions. She helps Kristin and Tracker, since she doesn’t have anything against other Clerics or their religions. When Kristin gets doubt, she talks it out, and Lucy learns some spine from Kristine assertiveness.

With Riz, the Rat Grinders have been told stories from Kipperlily, so they expect things, but Riz isn’t like that. He isn’t dismissive or impersonal, and while he’s definitely- intense, there isn’t superiority there like they thought. When he talks about his dad or his home life, they don’t see a great backstory like Kipperlily wants, they see a kid at their age, that has to do twice as much for half the reward. They don’t know how to tell her.

But he does relax. With more people helping each other, Riz is a little less stressed. And the Rat Grinders, more than anything, see an adventuring party that are actually friends, that rely on each other and actually hang out together outside campaigns.

And then Spring break happens, and it’s a little better. The Rat Grinders convive Kipperlily to go on another quest, instead of to the mountains. Gorgug is more secure, Fabian’s more aware, Adaine has pushed her spells more, Riz is a little less stressed, Fig’s more focused and Kristin still doubts, but she’s better at taking about it. But it’s still bad. They still go through the forest, still have to deal with fighting and their fears, still get beat up and everything.

And when they come back, the Rat Grinders don’t see them getting praise. They don’t see all the great rewards for saving the world they expected. What they see, is a change to a deadline that was going to happen anyway, and that this group of people that were kind to them have gone through absolute hell. They’re tired, they’re scared, it’s rough. And then a week later, they’re running off again, after an endless night. And when they come back, it’s just more consequences and reprimands from a system that the Rat Grinders have been told favours the Bad Kids. And they realise that maybe Kipperlily doesn’t understand the Bad Kids as well as she thinks.

#adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #fantasy high #figeroth faeth #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #the bad kids #dimension 20 #rat grinders #long post

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xstevex-world · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington’s favourite musician has been the same since he was 17.

He distinctly remembers hearing Chrissy Cunningham play in his car radio during his senior year, subsequently listening to nothing but her breakout EP for a week straight - and that was just the beginning.

He followed all of work for over the past 7 years: bought physical and digital copies of all her albums, watched every music video multiple times, read every interview, saved up enough while working weekend shifts at scoops to get tickets to her sold out shows in Indiana - he had so much merch that Jonathan Byers once joked that Steve could probably make a shrine to his idol.

He had even kept up during her hitatus, almost two full years of radio silence from the star, like she had disappeared off the face of the earth. It wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened, but it didn’t help that it overlapped with him dropping out of business school to pursue a career in cosmetology and that final falling out he had with his father over his choice in education.

The day she came back felt like Christmas.

Her comeback announcement dropped on June 13th - and it wasn’t just a new post on social media or a candid shot online someone managed to snap.

It was a whole EP drop, 4 entire songs (and a music video) that he knew he was going to play on repeat after 716 days of radio silence.

That opened the floodgates for everything to start again: she went back on social media, thanked her fans for their wholehearted response to her new releases. She started doing interviews again: discussing her mental health and the impact of her mothers control in her life; her reunion with her best friend (and apparent ex) from high school; her label dropping her after it was found that her “momager” had embezzled a huge amount of money from said company, releasing her from her contract early and allowing her to find new partners, new producers, new projects.

She talks about how she’s never been happier, and Steve can’t help but beam at it. He can hear it in her music, how it’s going more against the grain of what’s popular, opting instead for etherial synths mixed with heavy guitars. She sings about heartbreak and moving on and being better than then the people who brought her down for long, now that she’s starting fresh.

Steve loves it, thinks some of the changes have something to with Eddie Munson’s name appearing in the credits of all her new material.

Truthfully, he got curious after someone on Twitter posted a screengrab of cameos made by Munson and his own bandmates in all of her new music videos. He thankful someone else made the connection, and although he’s not the biggest fan of Corroded Coffin’s music (apart from the collaboration EP they did with Chrissy: “CCxCC presents Satanic Slumber Party”, that was incredible), he would lying if he didn’t say he was totally enamoured by Eddie goddamn Munson.

Let alone the fact that he’s totally Steve’s type (big hair, bigger eyes, a complete dork with a heart of gold but who also looks like he would bite someone in both a feral dog and a “please take me to your bedroom right now” kind of way), the guy is a genius when it comes to music, spending interviews talking about the process of artistry and the importance of storytelling - even when they’re discussing songs about him, written by Chrissy about their break up, he’s still so passionate and witty, the two of them spending interviews bouncing off each other in a way that would rival his relationship Robin.

He’s fine, really, he knows logically this is just a celebrity crush that will pass if he stops thinking about it for long enough, but he’s certain that this could develop into one of those all encompassing obsessions if he doesn’t curb it now- and that’s exact what he does. He tries to put that energy into school, excelling more than he ever did in an academic setting. He meets up more often with Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and Barb, inviting them over more often for dinner or drinks, sometimes even just because he wants to make a breakfast feast and need someone else to eat it.

It’s at times like this that he misses Robin, who only has about 6 weeks left of her internship in Paris - he hasn’t seen her in person since he went to visit her a few months ago during spring break. He wishes she was her to openly judge him over this, before rambling on about her own current hyperfixation or moaning about her lack of romantic adventures since she and Vickie broke up.

They still talk on the phone every afternoon (nighttime for her), ranting to each other about their perspective day and sharing any worthwhile gossip.

Tonight’s no different, he’s telling her about the current drama happening in his classes when Robin says:

“I met someone today.”

He’s ecstatic - in his opinion robin deserves the world and the fact she’s met someone on her own in a city where she has been finding it hard interacting with people outside of her placement is a miracle in itself.

She tells him more: how she met this girl that morning at café, acting as a knight in shining armour (Robin’s words, not Steve’s) when the girl got flustered trying to order her coffee in broken French; how she spent the day showing this girl around to her favourite shops and parks and museums; how they spent hours talking about everything and nothing; how Robin hasn’t felt this way about someone since Vickie.

“So then we had dinner at that Italian place, the one I took you to, and, Steve, oh my goddess, she has the cutest little laugh-“

“Did you get her name?”

“Oh, sorry” he can hear her move the phone from one ear to the other. “Yeah it’s Chrissy.”

Steve stops his pacing. That would be one hell of a coincidence, if it was Chrissy Cunningham. She is playing in Paris the following night, the penultimate stop of her current tour. (The very show that he had been tempted to go to, since he could stay with Robin. It absolutely wasn’t because Corroded Coffin was joining her for the European leg of the tour - acting as her band, as well as performing songs from their collaboration as the encore - something that did not happen at any of the American shows). It couldn’t be the same Chrissy that Robin had fallen head over heels for in the space of a few hours, right?

“Did you get any of her socials?” He asks, cautiously.

“Nope,” she answers, popping the p for emphasis. “I didn’t think to ask, because I’m an idiot and all that-“

“Robs,” he interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re not an idiot.”

Her hears her laugh on the other end of the line, the same kind of self-deprecating giggle she uses when she’s nervous. He wishes he was there with her so she could see him roll his eyes at her, their main way of communicating their love.

“What did she look like?”

“Oh!” She exclaims as he hears her tumbling over something (knowing Robin, probably herself). “We took a picture together, hold on, I’ll send it over.”

His phone vibrates against his ear, so he brings it in front of him, putting Robin on speaker so he can see the photo.

And.

Holy fuck.

“Robin,” he says slowly, because he actually can’t believe it himself. “Do you know who that is?”

((Part 2))

#stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #Steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #Buckingham #bandcheer #robin x chrissy #robin buckley x chrissy cunningham #Luci’s ST thoughts

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am-i-interrupting · 7 months

Note

do you mind if i ask for a bimbo gn!reader who thinks they have an unrequited crush on vox all the while being oblivious of vox's own attempt at flirting, please?

Daft Dolls

All that training with Velvette about how not to just pace but run in high heels really did pay off. Not only was it a valuable tool to have in Hell of all places, it was also just pretty damn useful to know in general.

You weren’t running from loan sharks. No, you were running towards a specific hotel. You weren’t in trouble. Far from it. You were excited. You could not wait to see the look on his face.

The doors were slammed open as you barged in. You looked across the lobby of the hotel.

Vaguely you registered other people (a man dressed in red who just appeared out of thin air) but your eyes zoned in on the pink clad spider at the bar.

“The fuck you doing here, toots?”

“I got you out of work!”

Your voices overlapped. Angel Dust looked at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“I got you out of work,” you repeated as you walked towards him, the door closing behind you. “Well, not work but work work. You know, Valentino work. I know it’s not what you wanted but being on set with me is better than being on set with Valentino, right? At least, that’s what I was thinking ‘cause when I went to talk to him about it he was mad. Like mad mad. He threw bottle of rosé at me.”

“Are you okay?” Angel asked.

You batted his hands away from you. “I’m fine. It’s no big deal. He has shit aim anyway. He missed but with the help of Vox I was able to get you off of Val’s set and onto mine!”

Angel Dust just stared at you, absolutely silent.

As he processed what you said, a blonde woman came up beside you. “Um, hi, I’m Charlie. You’re one of Angel’s friends, I guess? It’s so nice to meet you.”

You took her outstretched hand (it was really soft) and shook it. “Nice to meet you too! Angel’s told me about you. I’m—“

“Vox helped you?” Angel asked, coming out of his stupor. “Like TV head Vox? Overlord Vox? That Vox? He helped you get me out of work?”

“Yeah,” you said shaking your head. “He was already up there with Val. I kind of just barged in. I wasn’t thinking. That was probably a stupid thing to do but you were on the news and then you were messaging me all freaked out about what Val was gonna do because you were on the news so I just kind of went up there to talk about it and anyway. Yeah, why?”

He downed the glass that was on the bar beside him. “You’re so oblivious sometimes,” he said.

“What?!”

He pointed a finger at you. “You call me at least once every two weeks and moan and groan about how—“

You clasped your hands over his mouth. “Can we not ta— Ew! Angel!” You yanked your hands back, now covered in his saliva. “Gross!”

He smirked at you and leaned in close, “Just making sure you’re prepared for that hand job he’s gonna get.”

You pushed his shoulder and he pushed you back. This led to you both lightly hitting each other with no real intent to harm one another.

That was until a different woman’s voice sounded through the room, “What the fuck is going on?”

The both of you stopped and turned towards her. Grey skin, white hair, orange eyes, she was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but say as much.

She looked completely thrown off by your blatant statement meanwhile Angel threw his head back with a laugh and Charlie looked over at her with a huge smile.

“Vaggie,” Charlie said in a sing-song voice.

“No,” the woman (Vaggie) immediately responded with. “Absolutely not.”

She turned around and started walking away. “Sorry,” Charlie said before moving to follow her. “But they’d be perfect for the Hotel!”

“No, we’re not having two Angel Dusts,” Vaggie said.

“But, Vaggie,” Charlie’s voice then grew too distant to hear.

Angel waited a moment but then he turned to you again. “You really got me out of work?” he asked, voice so close to sounding fragile.

“Course I did,” you told him. You grabbed his hand. “Your my friend, Angie.” You let go. “I need to go back though. I’m on my lunch break and it’s probably almost over. I just got so excited, I had to come tell you in person.”

Angel pulled you in for a hug and squeezed you with all six arms. “You’re the best, toots.”

“I know, I know,” you said. “Anyway, I gotta go. See ya!”

You blew Angle kissed as you walked backwards to the door. You spun around, prepared to open it when you saw the red clad man from before holding the door open for you.

“Oh, thanks.”

“Of course, my dear,” he said, a radio filter on his voice. “Please, allow me to walk you back. I’d love to thank our mutual friend in person for helping our other mutual friend.”

“You know Vox?”

“Yes, indeed I do, very well, in fact. I’m Alastor. Pleasure to meet you, my dear, quite a pleasure,” he said.

You gave him your name in turn.

The two of you walked together in silence. You did notice as the two of you walked, many people sprinted away which was odd, especially for you.

You were normally approached by people when you were out. They didn’t run away.

See, several years ago youd made a deal with Velvette. You were one of her models and she’d provide you with protection from Hell’s many dangers along with the occasional free clothes as a bonus. Time passed and you and Velvette actually ended up getting along fairly well. She’d put you in her streams, in her posts, she’d hang out with you outside of work. That’s when one day she heard you singing when she invited herself over. A couple days later, you were basically told you were going to make an album. The rest was history.

So, people running from instead of approaching you was different, weird, even strange.

You looked over at your company but he simply wore a smile. You could hear him humming actually, something upbeat and jazzy. You supposed if he wasn’t deterred you shouldn’t be either. Maybe it was just one of those off days in Hell, especially since it was so soon after the extermination.

Eventually you got to the three Vs’ tower. What you didn’t expect was for Vox to immediately teleport to the entryway.

His posture was straight which was normal but it seemed tense. If that wasn’t enough to tip you off the fact that he was still sparking was and his eye strobing definitely was. You followed his gaze to Alastor and found yourself suddenly very cautious of the man.

While Alastor didn’t seem that bad on the surface you’d known Vox longer. You trusted Vox. You more than trusted Vox actually but the point was you took a very lengthy step away from Alastor and toward’s Vox even if he was sparking.

“What marvelous company this one makes,” Alastor said, gesturing to you. “Wouldn’t you say, old friend?”

Vox took a step in front of you. “Get the FUCK out of my territory!” he said.

Alastor’s smile turned into something devious, something knowing, and something very unnerving. He gave a bow and then vanished into the shadows.

Vox placed a hand on your back and guided you inside. “Do not ever go around him again, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you said. Not once in your half a decade in Hell had you ever seen Vox like this.

He sighed. His sparking calmed down and his eyes stopped strobing. “Sorry, just, um, I— he’s— it’s complicated. Just don’t associate with him.”

“Sorry, I was just going to that hotel Angie’s staying at. He insisted on walking me back, that’s all,” you explained.

“It’s— Wait, what? What hotel?”

“The Happy Hotel that Charlie Morningstar started. There was an ad for it on 666 today before Angel’s fight.”

Vox stopped. “Alastor’s back and he’s staying at a hotel run by Lucifer’s daughter?”

Prior to all of the things that happened two days after the extermination, Vox had already said (as what you assumed was a way to placate Valentino) that he would be personally in charge of directing your music video but it seemed like since Alastor he wasn’t letting you out of his sight. That was silly though.

He did come into your apartment in the tower though and just sat on your couch. That was normal though. Vox did that when he was stressed. He said your apartment was less noisy than staying with the other Vs. Whatever the case, you made him dinner last night.

Now it was the next day and Velvette was dolling you up as she was prone to do. She blended out your lipstick with her finger. Then she put a thick layer of lip gloss on top.

“Pout for me. Perfect. You look pretty, innocent, and fuckable,” she said.

She pulled you out of your chair and to the nearest full length mirror. She was right, as always. She’d given you a very soft blue makeup look for the most part with sharp eyeliner and bold pink and black lips. She had dressed you in a pastel pink cropped sweater, a matching miniskirt with a high pastel blue g-string, and tall white boots. She’d outdone herself but she always did.

She ushered you out of the dressing room after you both got done gawking at yourself and to the set. There you found Angel in a very similar get up but with the pinks and blues reversed.

“You ready to blow this shoot?” Angel asked,

“Wrong kind of shoot for a blow,” you told him.

He rolled his eyes with a smile. One hand of his went around your shoulders. The other went around the waist.

You both went to set and chatted while you waited for Vox to arrive.

It was only a few minutes before he was walking through the doors, a tray of three cups in his hands. He set it down on a nearby table. Velvette went to grab one but he cut her off, taking it instead. You caught sight of her offended expression before it morphed into a done but knowing look. One hand on her hip while the other plucked a different cup off the tray,

Vox turned, now two cup in hand. He caught sight of you and raised an eyebrow. Velvette doubled over laughing. You couldn’t help but wander why. It was too loud to hear what they were saying but it didn’t look like either of them had moved their lips.

Maybe one of Vox’s soundboard noises went off. That was known to happen occasionally but you couldn’t think of why.

You didn’t really get the chance to think of any reasons though as seconds later Vox was in front of you. He extended the hand holding the cup he’d taken from Velvette.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Thanks, Velvette’s work,” you explained, taking the cup from him. You hummed to yourself when you were met with your favorite drink.

“I’m sure that’s not all true,” he said.

You were too busy to notice how his eyes lingered on your face but Angel did. Throughout the next few weeks Angel noticed a lot.

He’d never really seen you and Vox interact before. He would just hear stories from you afterwards and holy fuck. You had to be dense to think this man wasn’t absolutely obsessed with you.

Vox brought you your favorite drink every single day. He complimented you every single day. He would correct and critique everyone else in a very detached way at best and frustrated way more often than not. But with you, he was calm, gentle almost. He took your ideas and incorporated them. He would go out of his way to physically correct your poses or guide you through specific motions. Once you mentioned off handedly that your feet were hurting and there was an early lunch break where he didn’t even eat, he massaged your feet for you.

When Angel brought this up, however, he was brushed off.

“He brought Velvette a drink too.” Yeah, one she complained tasted like piss.

“He does that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.” Angel had never heard Vox compliment anyone in his nearly seventy years in Hell.

“He just knows me better, that’s all.” Not once had Angel ever seen Vox being even half as kind to Velvette or Valentino.

“I’m sure he does that with other people’s ideas.” Angel remembered being told multiple iterations of the same story with different people, all because they did something as small as suggest different shoes for someone to walk in because it was too loud.

“It’s probably just easier to do that than explain. He knows I’m used to being puppeted around by Vel.” He spent five minutes explaining to Angel what to do instead of just moving his four arms into position.

“Do you want me to give you a foot massage, Angie? All you have to do is ask.” Well, yes, but that wasn’t the point!

Angel watched as Vox laughed at something you said. “Fucking dumbass,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed a yogurt off the snack bar.

“I know, right?” Velvette said, scaring the shit out of him in the process. “You think this is bad? Ugh, imagine being surrounded by it all the time and Voxy’s just as bad and there’s no escaping him. I have to put up with his bitch ass whining all the time. It’s exhausting.”

Angel relaxed enough to lean against the wall. “Kind of makes you want to press them together like dolls and make them kiss, don’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah. . . Wait a minute! That’s it!” Velvette slapped Angel’s shoulder.

She whipped out her phone and started typing frantically. Her legs started kicking from where they dangled over the edge of the snack bar.

Angel peeled open the yogurt and tried to lean to have a look at what she was typing. She was too fast though and shut off her phone with a satisfied smirk.

Her eyes were glued to the pair of you. You pulled out your phone and saw a message from her. You looked over at her with furrowed brows. She just smiled at you manically. You shook your head but gave her a thumbs up.

When lunch break was supposed to be over, Velvette clapped her hands together loud enough it echoed through the room. “Listen up, sluts!” she said, taking control over the room.

You watched as she and Vox had a back and forth which ended with Vox confused on the set couch in a new outfit Velvette poofed on him. It wasn’t anything too far out of his usual style but it was a change. It was simple black slacks and a white button up shirt but the sleeves were rolled past his forearms and several of the buttons were undone. He looked. . . You were staring that’s for sure.

The music came on and you began lip singing. You put your hands on either side of his head. You threw your leg on the other side of his lap and straddled him. You moved your body up and down, not grinding on him due to not sitting on him but it was a close thing. Your face was right in front of his. You tried to hold eye contact with him but for some reason his eyes kept darting down.

“Fuck it,” he said under his breath.

Then an arm was wrapped around your hips forcing you down and a hand was in your hair guiding your head closer to his. Your lips met his and static filled your entire body. His tongue was caressing your mouth, making you feel like you had a mouth full of pop rocks.

You moaned when he flipped you so your back was pressed against the couch. He rolled his hips against yours and you could feel him through his pants.

“Fuck the music video,” he said against your lips. “How would you feel about filming a porno instead?”

“Mmm, kinky,” Angel said.

“I am so sending this to ‘Tino,” Velvette said.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader

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damiraeweek-damiraeevents · 1 month

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DamiRae Week 24: Degrees of love

As with every year, we’re devoting an upcoming week to celebrate DamiRae and show off the glorious level of talent in our fandom. It’s been four years since our ship became canon in the DCAMU, and we aren’t slowing down.

Romance has a significant presence in Arabic writings, poetry, language, and art. Given Damian Wayne’s often underplayed and underrepresented heritage, we wanted to find a way to incorporate it into this particular fandom celebration. And so, we present this year’s theme:

✨The Degrees of Love in the Arabic Language✨

How to participate?

We wanted to do something special this year to bolster our little community and give people a chance to shine together. We all love a good collaboration, so this year’s dynamic will be:

Match made in heaven

While not mandatory, we’ll be helping to pair up any interested artists and writers whose themes intersect or overlap. Whether it be a story with accompanying fanart, or multiple writers and artists working together on a single piece, we’re truly excited to see what people can come up with when they put their heads together.

Without further adieu, here are the Degrees of Love you have to choose from!

Al meel - Liking/interest

This word is used to describe a fondness or penchant for someone, and can describe the early stages of someone falling in love. It is similar to the word hawa, which is used when someone begins to become more inclined towards a romantic interest. A functional English equivalent can be "to have a crush on someone" - a feeling that can be fleeting and may change over time.

Al khala - Deep friendship

This term is commonly used in religious texts and denotes a strong companionship. Al-khala is the feeling someone shares with someone they have a lot in common with, have a fondness for, and see in a positive light. The person will have a good influence on them, and there will be a strong rapport and loyalty between the pair.

Al shagaf - Infatuation

When love starts to have a physical impact on a person, it can be described as a state of infatuation. This stage causes the lover distress and difficulty, as they can’t be away from their beloved. Usually, when someone is at this stage of love, they are willing to compromise on anything for the one they love, regardless of the consequences.

Al eshq - Passionate love

This particular word features very heavily in songs and poetry and the direct translation of the word is "to be nested in". The stage of love can be described as a state of adoration, where the person is overcome with feelings of desire. This form may involve some form of intimacy, and typically the couple will be inseparable.

Al taym - Bewitchment

Similar to a type of love called al walah, meaning an absurd fondness or bewitchment, this kind of love is considered to be so intense, it is likened to becoming insane. With this intensity of love, the thoughts of the person in love will be completely preoccupied with their beloved. The intense feelings will cloud the person’s mind, leaving them unable to function properly.

Al luw’aa - Anguish

There are some expressions of love that are synonymous with pain, and describe how a lover feels without their beloved. A similar word is al shaju, which means grief, or sababa, which comes from the Arabic word for injury. The word describes the figurative act of spilling blood from one’s heart.

Al tadleeh - Disorder or enslavement

Tadleeh loosely resembles a disorder and comes from the word madlah, which means unable to pay attention.

This degree of love denotes a love so intense and strong that the lover's heart is no longer theirs and becomes a slave to their beloved. They can not free themselves of this love or let go of the person.

Controlling emotions becomes difficult, and the heart feels as though it totally belongs to the beloved. If this is where you find yourself, you are at a place where you are no longer yourself, as you have been fully consumed by your love. People in this stage of love can no longer focus on anything else and are left in a state of disarray and confusion.

Al sahd - Insomnia

At this point, the person has already become too attached to their beloved, and they cannot be without them or think of themselves without the other person. Their thoughts are completely preoccupied by the one they love, to the point that it causes them pain. Like another degree of love, jawa, which is a burning love similar to a heartburn, this degree of love has a physical impact on the lover.

Al istikana - Submission

This degree of love is often described as unhealthy, as it leads a person to a state of blind submission to the one they love. At this stage, one sees the other as almost perfect, with no faults. It can cause someone to overlook any issues or mistakes. In relationships, it can lead to someone being blindly obedient to the other, seeking their affection and approval unquestioningly.

Al huyaam - Madness

One of the most intense degrees of love, huyaam plunges a person into a state of insanity. At this point, a lover has lost all sense of reason and rationality. Containing elements of obsessiveness, this type of love can cause a person to act unusually and do things that are not typical of their personality because of how blinded by passion they are.

Next Sunday we will share a quick survey for anyone interested in collaborating so you can let us know your chosen degree of love and whatever specific idea you may have for bringing it to life. We’ll use that information to pair up anyone interested in collaborating. We will also choose the date to our lovely event, so stay tuned and don't hesitate on DM us if you have any questions!

#damirae #damian wayne #demonbirds #raven #damian x raven #damirae week #damirae week 2024

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memescomicswriting · 2 months

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Okay, but here me out … modern!Aegon x reader Casual coded

I know that our Queen Miss Roan did not write this song about a man and the fandom has dubbed it one of the Rhaneyra x Alicent songs. However, as a bi I can attest that this song can apply no matter the team you bat for. It especially applies when the situationship is with someone who’s emotional attachment skills fluctuate whenever the wind blows. So Aegon.

Modern!Aegon, maybe you met in college through overlapping friend groups. He likes to party, your friends like to party. This continues past graduation.

My friends call me a loser/ 'Cause I'm still hanging around

Whether you’re still in uni or not, your friends think it’s time for you to mature and move forward from this cycle you have with Aegon. He’s not good for your health.

I've heard so many rumors/ That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

Your friends fill you in on what’s being said about you as a part of their reasoning.

“See how he talks about you. And you stay?”

I thought you thought of me better/ Someone you couldn't lose/ You said, "We're not together"/ So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

You confront him about what he’s been saying to his mates, but that silver tongue of his can smooth anything over. When you’re alone, he’s so sweet and you’re putty in his hands.

You said, "Baby, no attachment"/ But we're/ Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out

Aegon’s got big Peter Pan energy. He bolts at any form of responsibility and that includes the responsibility of maintaining a relationship. He doesn’t want to grow up, his partying years to end, and to take on the role his parents have carved out for him. He’s afraid that if he commits to you it’s a sign he’s ready to commit to his future.

Is it causal now

He likes you. He wants you. Maybe as close to love as he can get. But he’s Aegon, so he keeps you at arm’s length despite demanding the intimacy.

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach

However, you’ve been around long enough that his parents do know you. They’ve seen your face enough. When he has an event that needs a date he always brings you.

I know what you tell your friends/ It's casual

It’s what he tells them when they’re high at 3am and the question comes up again. He can’t bring himself to say it’s anything more.

Then, baby, get me off again/ If it's casual, it's casual now

You always fall back into his bed. He’s addicting. You love the rush and thrill being with him gives you. You crave it despite the burn you receive every time you crash out.

Dumb love, I love being stupid/ Dream of us in a year/ Maybe we'd have an apartment/ And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

Despite your better judgment, you still go to that delulu headspace. It’s the post orgasm high and he’s being so sweet and gentle. Maybe he’s finally changing.

I know, "Baby, no attachment"

And then his words are bringing you crashing down into the reality of it all.

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out/ Is it casual now?

And yet he gives you these intimate moments. They almost feel sacrosanct. And you’re thrown in the whirlwind of emotions again only to be smacked down.

It's hard being casual/ When my favorite bra lives in your dresser

You’re with him so goddamn often that his neighbors think you share the apartment.

And it's hard being casual/ When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

You’ve been at this for so long. You know him. You know Helena. She treats you as if you’re some pillar, some constant, someone who’s always been in the family.

And I try to be the chill girl/ That holds her tongue and gives you space/ I try to be the chill girl

You try so fucking hard to please him. You’re trying so goddamn hard to suppress all your desires that will scare him off. It’s like he’s given you a 4x4 dimension of space to take up in his life, but you’re a 5x5. You’re tipping over and bleeding out.

But honestly, I'm not

For some unknown reason on some random day, the scale finally tips to far. Like a spring that’s been coiled and tightened as far as it can go, you bounce back with force.

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner/ Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter

Maybe that was the moment. You’re thinking he’s finally taking this seriously if you’re having a one on one dinner with his family for no special occasion. His parents compliment his growth. You’re more than willing to comply when he drags you off to the bathroom. You think you’re both caught up in the evening. When return is when you realize it was all to antagonize his parents. You go home alone.

Bragging to your friends, I get off when you hit it/ I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry, dude, you didn't

You confront him the next time you see him. For the first time you actually catch him talking with his friends about you. He’s gotten bold to do it with you around. You nearly blackout while burning with rage. You’re spewing every hurtful thing you’ve ever thought while he’s dragging you into a private space.

“What the hell was that?”

I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself/ Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

The invisible string that’s connected the two of you, he’s stretched so far that it’s finally snapped. You’re furious but you’re finally free. And you leave him. Not like any other time before, where you were meek and teary eyed. There’s no “I love you, but…” No, you’re red faced, voice hoarse, no decorum letting him have it. Everything.

You leave him a stuttering mess. Nothing left to say. Nothing to go back to. You’re broken but you’re free.

And his pain is just beginning.

#aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #modern aegon #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd #aegon targaryen x you #aegon smut

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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 1 year

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i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.

i want to brainwash you into loving me forever, i want to transport you to somewhere the culture’s clever, confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.

Eddie Munson is signed to a big-name label, one that monitors every move their artists make. The label practically runs half of LA, with so many artists under contract that Eddie’s not really sure how they can even keep track, let alone micro-manage every single one of them. But somehow they do it.

Eddie’s in the hard rock and metal division. Very rarely does he have to cross paths with artists outside of his genre. It’s not really an issue. It’s not like he’s going to collaborate with some bubblegum pink pop princess.

But then the label decides that they need to cross-market some of their artists. They’ve got lots of big names and Eddie’s on tour for his fourth studio album. He’s established, already done a world tour that was so successful the label had wanted to send him back out almost immediately, but he’d pushed back, asking for some time to write. So it’s been two years, but he’s written some of his best songs to date and the arenas are selling out.

Eddie’s so successful that the label decides that they’re going to pair him with some new up-and-coming singer-songwriter duo. The label wants at least one song, but hopes are high that Eddie will take them out as an opener for the last leg of the tour. Eddie’s given their EP a listen; he can’t really imagine that his demographic will ever overlap with theirs, but if this it what the label wants, then who is he to deny them?

It’s a sunny afternoon in LA when Eddie meets Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley at his favorite coffee shop downtown. It’s a safe place for celebrities, with a hidden back entrance and tinted windows, so he’s fairly certain they won’t be caught out together. Eddie’s ordered some lavender honey oat milk latte, something he would never admit to liking in a million years, but it tastes so good he makes the trip here at least three times a week. He’s sitting in a secluded corner, far enough from the windows that he won’t feel nervous, and he’s still got his sunglasses on, just in case.

He spots Robin and Steve almost immediately. They’re hard to miss, both beautiful and sun-kissed, smiling wide as they bicker before they both stop to look around the space.

“Hi!” Robin exclaims when she spots him, rushing over to his table. She grabs his hand between both of hers before he’s even had the chance to offer it to her and pumps it up and down a few times, like they’re shaking hands.

“Rob,” Steve mutters, placing a hand on her shoulder. Then, he turns his blinding smile on Eddie. Eddie had never believed in that whole ‘heart skipping a beat’ thing before but… he feels something happening in that region. “Sorry about her, she’s, like, a huge fan.” He offers his own hand to Eddie and they shake, the brush of skin on skin leaving Eddie just a little breathless, before Steve pulls out a chair and drops into it.

“Ugh, don’t make me sound like some creepy stalker, dingus.” Robin puts her hand on her hips. “What do you want?”

“Uh,” Steve squints at the menu before glancing down at the cup Eddie’s got between his hands. “What’d you get?” He directs the question at Eddie. Eddie tells him, only a little sheepish about it, and Steve smiles again. Eddie’s skin starts to feel itchy, too tight at his collarbones. “That sounds good. I’ll have that,” he tells Robin and she turns to head toward the counter, mumbling about having to order girly drinks.

Once they’re alone, Eddie slides his sunglasses off his face and up into his hair. He clears his throat before looking up into Steve’s face. Their eyes meet and something… happens. Something electric, something pulled taut between them. Eddie feels it and he’s pretty sure Steve does, too, judging by the way his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them, quick and nervous. Eddie can’t stop staring. Neither can Steve.

Robin comes back with her hands full and glances between them. “Everything alright?” She asks slowly, cautiously, and their gazes finally snap away from each other, a blush rising in Steve’s cheeks.

Steve looks back into Eddie’s eyes like he just can’t help himself. Like he wouldn’t want to look anywhere else. “Yeah,” he says smiling. “Everything’s great.”

~*~

Eddie agrees to take them out on tour with him. The minute he saw Steve Harrington in the flesh, he knew he’d be taking them, but Robin turns out to be pretty cool too. He warns them that his fans can be pretty intense, that he can’t imagine they’ll be all that pleased with the kind of music the duo plays, but Robin and Steve assure him that they’re really just looking for some tour experience more than anything else. They’ll figure out the songwriting on the road, collaborate in a way that will bridge the gap between their style and Eddie’s.

When he gets home later that night, after a detour back to the label’s offices, Eddie can’t help but insta-stalk. He looks up Robin’s page first, upholding the pretense of ‘market research’ even in the privacy of his own mind. Most of her pictures include Steve and so it’s easy to be led away to Steve’s profile. It’s a natural progression. Totally normal.

Steve is… extremely cute. That’s usually not a word that Eddie would apply to someone he’s interested in—he tends to prefer the leather and chains variety much more than the sugary sweet type—but for some reason Eddie’s left breathless this time. He scrolls down Steve’s page, sees a picture of him with a herd of kids climbing on his back, another of him and Robin in matching sailor costumes. He hits the follow button without giving it too much thought and then slides back to his own page. Eddie is notoriously private, Instagram page consisting of only professional and promotional shots of him on tour with his band or in the studio recording. It’s not that Eddie is hiding anything, but he knows enough to know that the more you open up, the more that can be taken from you. He knows enough to know that the metal community can be somewhat closed-minded about some things, so he prefers to hide his personal life away, to keep some things precious and secret.

He wonders what Steve would think of his page, if he were to scroll through it. He wonders what it would be like to be open and honest about his personal life, about loving someone. What it would be like to not have to worry about losing fans, losing sales, losing bookings. To not worry about what the public would think of him.

He sighs and places his phone face down on his bedside table before turning out the light and drifting off to sleep.

~*~

Steve and Robin have been on tour with Eddie for two months and Eddie is almost positive that he’s falling in love with Steve. It was one thing to listen to Steve sing on their EP. It’s something totally different to watch Steve perform, to see his fingers slide up and down his guitar, the notes and his voice melancholy sweet. Eddie thinks almost anyone would fall in love with Steve if they’d just pay attention.

They haven’t done anything. Nothing has happened. But the green rooms and the tour busses have been full of lingering looks and soft brushes of skin. He’s pretty sure that Robin is close to saying something, clearly irritated by their pining. But Eddie’s still unsure. He knows it’s a lot, being on tour and in close quarters for the first time. It’s complicated and he doesn’t want to jeopardize Steve’s first big break. He doesn’t want to distract him. It’s easy to get caught up on tour, to mistake proximity for real feelings. It had happened to Eddie before; he didn’t want it to happen to Steve now.

Because this is a big deal, for Robin and Steve. Eddie had been unsure about taking them on, but, surprisingly, Eddie’s fans had embraced the duo. Their songwriting methods had complimented each other in a way Eddie hasn’t experienced since he first started writing with Gareth and the three of them had written five songs together already. Eddie would pull them both onstage halfway through his set to perform at least two of them and then again for one during the encore. The crowd went wild every time.

It’s the last night of tour when the space between them finally snaps in two. It’s the encore, they’re playing Eddie’s favorite of the five songs they’ve written together. They’ve made it through the complicated bridge, the final chorus, and now they’re closing out the last verse. The energy between Steve and Eddie practically crackles, almost visible under the harsh arena lights. Adrenaline is pumping, making Eddie feel invincible, and he can tell that Steve feels it too by the way he smiles across the stage at him. The final notes ring out and Eddie can’t help himself. He grabs for the strap of Steve’s guitar and pulls. Steve falls into Eddie’s chest, laughing, eyebrows raised, and Eddie can’t even think. His lips crash into Steve’s and it’s magical. Better than Eddie ever even dreamed it would be.

There’s a roaring in his ears as Eddie pulls back, reluctant. Steve’s eyes are still closed and he tries to follow Eddie’s mouth with his own, but Eddie laughs and gives him a little shake. Eddie glances around and realizes that the roaring he’d heard was the crowd going absolutely wild, screaming and cheering and clapping. Eddie looks back at Steve, who’s looking just a little dazed, blush on his cheeks and dopey smile on his lips. Robin’s screaming into her microphone, jumping up and down, egging the crowd on. Steve looks around the arena, still smiling, before looking back at Eddie and mouthing something in his direction. It’s too loud, Eddie can’t hear him over the crowd, so he shakes his head just a little. Steve tries again but Eddie still can’t hear him, so he raises his microphone to his lips.

“Finally,” Steve practically shouts, voice ringing out across the cavernous space. “Thought you’d never take the hint.”

All Eddie can do is laugh and pull Steve in for another kiss as the crowd continues cheering.

@grtwdsmwhr gave me “i want to brainwash you into loving me forever” and this is what I came up with i guess

#i wrote this so quick on my phone so pls pls pls forgive me for everything!!!!!!#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #taylor swift inspired Steddie

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