#i also love that they have no idea what the plot even is

[pinksturniolo]

Versus - Chris and Matt Sturniolo

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

polyamorous: characterized by or involved in the practice of engaging in multiple romantic (and typically sexual) relationships, with the consent of all the people involved.

or also defined as: the relationship you, matt and chris have built. it started out as an innocent game of truth or dare one night which turned into much more than you could have ever imagined. trust, respect, and honesty. these are the three rules set in place that are strictly to be followed.

but what happens when they just don't want to share you after all?

content warnings: poly relationship, not much plot to this one, heavy smut, fingering, oral fem receiving, mentions of a threesome (no incest thats just gross), edging, lots of fluff, angst, !matt vs. chris!, manipulation, jealousy

a/n: this was requested by an anon a while ago, so s/o to them!!

word count: 5,436

You just couldn’t choose. From the moment you met them it was a constant battle in your head of who you preferred. And you just could not decide. You loved them both. Which is why you had proposed the idea of a polyamorous relationship 6 months ago.

This came as an extremely difficult task. You found it hard to even muster the courage to bring it up to them. You had no experience with this type of relationship, nor had the thought even crossed your mind until that night. When you had a taste of what it would be like to have them both all to yourself.

“I dare you to kiss me.” You slurred, the taste of cherry vodka lingering on your tongue. The words seemed to escape your mouth before your brain could even process.

Your heart races in fear at what you just blurted, Matt looking at you with wide eyes. Previously the dares were innocent, and the truths were simple questions. Just a harmless game being played between three best friends.

There’s a temporary moment of silence before Chris speaks up. “Don’t be a pussy. I will if you don’t.”

Matt’s shocked expression turns into a glare at his threat, causing him to move closer to you from his spot on the shaggy rug of your bedroom floor.

He takes in the look of apprehension on your face, placing a light touch to your knee. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

You can’t really take back the dare now. Even if you did, it would definitely be brought up later, when you three were sober and trying to explain where your sudden boost of confidence came from would just be embarrassing.

Besides, it’s not like you haven’t thought about Matt’s lips on yours before. And other places.

So, you say yes and place a hand on his jaw as he hovers his mouth over yours. He pauses for a few seconds to look into your eyes and then kisses you, a light moan escaping your throat as soon as your lips touch his.

You don’t mean for the sound to be heard but it’s almost like a reflex, because the electric feeling of his soft lips against your plush ones instantly has your head spinning in a good way, and a throb starting in your core.

Chris hears this, his eyes locked on your face and the way your tongue slips out to touch Matt’s. This is forbidden territory, watching his brother make out with a girl that he’s pined over since the moment he laid eyes on her. But he feels a need for you growing inside him that he just can’t ignore.

He wants to kiss you too, and not just that, he wants to make you moan for him in the way you just did for Matt. In fact, he knows he can do so much more. He can have you screaming his name by the end of the night, so that you forget his brother even existed.

And Matt… well he’s completely forgotten Chris is even in the room at this point. He kisses you in the way he’s been dreaming of every night. His hand moves from your knee to your upper thigh, feeling goosebumps on your skin. The little sounds you make only fuel his fire, the bulge in his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second.

He finally pulls away, and you’re breathless, your eyes lingering on Matt’s before looking over to Chris. His eyes are dark, staring at your puffy lips and flushed face.

“My turn.”

Once you started, you just couldn’t get enough. You then began to develop feelings for both of them. You craved their presence, you became addicted.

 And they wanted nothing more than to please you. It was like a fantasy come to life. Once the boundaries were established and the rules discussed, you three were inseparable. And you were good at keeping it a secret, even from Nick, which was not something one could easily do.

As time went on, you got better and better at managing your time equally with them, learning their similarities and differences, and knowing when to take time to yourself as well, not wanting to neglect your personal life.

But recently, tensions started to rise. You noticed that Matt and Chris were more irritable with each other than they usually were. They argued constantly, starting to become more selfish with you each night. It hurt you to know that you could potentially be coming in between them. You knew that the relationship wasn’t good in the long run, and someone was going to end up hurt.

Despite that, you just couldn't walk away. It was more than just sex. You were in love with two people at the same time. And oh, how they loved you…

✰ Chris met you first.

Exactly 30 minutes before Matt, which he loves to rub in his face every chance he gets. It was at a party one of your mutual friends hosted, and his bubbly and goofy personality immediately charmed you. He had a way of making you seem like you were the most important person in the room, focusing his full attention on you. And once you were introduced to Matt and noticed how introverted he was, it only solidified the fact that Chris was one of the most hyperactive people you had met. But you loved it. It paired well with your calm persona, and he constantly had you smiling from ear to ear with his off the wall remarks.

You soon came to know that these traits were just scratching the surface. The more time you spent with him, you observed how emotionally intelligent he was. He always picked up on your moods, knowing when you were upset or irritated and would do everything in his power to put a smile on your face or make you laugh. He was very trustworthy, and you found it easy to talk to him about any subject of your life, knowing he would give you his honest advice. He warmed your towel for you while you would take showers, bring you your favorite snack when you were on your period, and play your favorite songs every time you were in the car with him.

He protected you, wiped your tears when you cried, and supported you in everything you worked on. He knew the most creative ways to keep you inspired and reminded you every day how special you were.

He was also the best cuddler, always wanting to touch you and be touched by you. He loved to press kisses to your shoulder when he would spoon you in bed, his hands running over your body, always finding his way under your shirt or inside your shorts somehow. He loved foreplay, enjoying taking the time to explore every inch of your body with his fingers and mouth until you begged him to fuck you. And god, did he do just that. He nearly broke your headboard one time from how hard he would give it to you. He especially liked it when you wrapped your legs around his waist, making him push even deeper inside you, nails scratching marks down his back.

But he also adored those lazy mornings when he would wake up hard next to you, thrusting into you from behind. To hold you close to him and hear you whimper his name, to make tears form in your eyes and your heart ache from the loving things he would whisper in your ear.

And then there was Matt. ✿

Matt was incredibly sweet from the beginning, soft with every touch he gave you. He treated you like porcelain, like a vintage art piece only made for him. He always made sure you were comfortable in every aspect, making sure to know your limits. He bought you little things when he went out, like your favorite lip gloss he watched you put on every day, or your favorite coffee from the café by your house, with a note, ‘Thinking of you’.

He held your hand every time you two walked together and made sure he was the one closest to the street whenever you were on the sidewalk. He took you camping for the first time you had ever gone, showing you his way to make the perfect smore and which constellation in the sky reminded him of you. He also loved to tease you, to get you all flustered so he could admire how sexy you were when you got mad.

He would shower you with compliments, reminding you how beautiful he thought you were. He was obsessed with putting his mark on you, constantly leaving hickeys on your neck and inner thighs, especially when he knew it was almost Chris’s night. He wanted everyone to know you were his. And he loved every minute you spent in his arms, cherishing your body like it only belonged to him. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he devoured you, licking up every drop of your juices, his beard tickling the inside of your legs. He loved to watch you ride him, preferably backwards, so he could watch your ass bounce on his dick and pull your hair the way you liked it.

But he also loved watching your face as he slid in and out of you, kissing you while you moaned, swallowing every sound you made. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing lightly so you saw stars. And he really enjoyed filling you up nice and full, watching his cum leak out of you and then pushing it back in with his fingers, your thighs shaking and clenching around him.

It was safe to say you were more than satisfied almost every day of the week.

However, in this particular moment, you’re pissed off.

You couldn’t understand half of what was going on in the movie on the TV right now, due to the argument Chris and Matt have been in for the past 30 minutes. Their bickering was starting to get to you, and it made what used to be fun between you three now just insufferable.

“Matt, I don’t give a fuck.” Chris says, tightening his grip on your ankle. He was getting angrier, his eyes on the TV and refusing to look at Matt.

You were laid out on the couch next to him, your feet in his lap. Matt was across from you on the other side. He had been distant since the start of the night.

“You should give a fuck, Chris. I’m tired of you fucking up the dryer every time you use it.” he says, scrolling on his phone aimlessly.

Chris doesn’t respond, only making Matt more frustrated. “Matter fact, I’m tired of you fucking up everything you use. The kitchen sink is still messed up from what you did last week and-“

“Matt, please shut the fuck up. I’m getting a headache.”

“No, you shut the fuck up-“

“Can both of you shut the fuck up?!” You yell out, stopping both from continuing.

You hated yelling but you couldn’t take one more second of their arguing.

You stand up from the couch, walking to the kitchen to get a drink from the fridge.

You pull out a water bottle, taking a sip, and when you turn around, they’re both looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry… Maybe I should go home tonight. I think it’s time we take a break…” You say quietly, avoiding looking at them any longer, your gaze on the wooden floors.

You hear footsteps pad over to you and see Chris’s feet in his white socks stop in front of you. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting your head up gently to look at him.

His eyes are soft and he places a hand on your hip, rubbing the skin there under your shirt. “Please don’t say that. I know it’s Matt’s night tonight… but regardless I want you to stay.” He says and you chew on your bottom lip in thought, contemplating whether you should or not.

You glance at Matt who’s still on the couch, staring at you. His eyes flick to Chris’s hand on your hip briefly and then back to your face. “It’s your decision angel. I won’t force you to stay here if you don’t want to.” He speaks and your heart sinks at the disappointed look on his face that he tries to hide.

“I’m not forcing her to stay here. I only meant that I want her to know how much I want her here. I don’t want to take a break.” Chris says, rolling his eyes. He steps away from you, the last words of his sentence laced with hurt. He opens the fridge, grabbing a drink for himself as well.

Matt then gets up and walks over to where you’re leaning against the kitchen table. He stands close to you, his hands resting on either side of your hips on the table. “Is that what you want? You want to take a break? Because you know I only want you to be comfortable. I’ll respect any decision you make.” He says, his eye contact smoldering. He speaks very quietly, as if he intends for you to be the only one who hears him.

But Chris does too, as he sits on the countertop, arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t say anything though, his eyes on you as he listens.

“I don’t know. Can you just tell me what’s going on with you two? Why have you been fighting so much lately?” You ask, looking back and forth between the two of them.

They’re silent and exchange one heated look before Matt finally speaks up.

“It’s just been stressful lately, with work and stuff. That’s all.”

You scoff, not buying what he says at all. “Truth please.” You respond.

Matt looks at the floor now, as if he’s avoiding something and it makes you nervous, your heart starting to race in your chest.

“I think we should talk in private, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Chris says and hops off the counter to walk over to Matt before you can respond.

Matt turns to him, his jaw clenching in annoyance as Chris stands in front of him now.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say when I’m in the room.” he says, glaring at Matt.

Chris knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care. He knew something was up with Matt these past few weeks, from his body language and the way he’s been talking. And he knew it had everything to do with you. They had agreed to never let a girl come between them, but now it seems like that’s what was happening.

 “I don’t have to do anything.” Matt responds, getting in Chris’s face now.

The angry tension between them created awkward silence in the room, as you watch with wide eyes. They’ve never acted like this before and you stand in shock, unsure what to do or say.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? I’m sick and tired of you acting like this.” Chris says, pushing Matt away from him.

“Okay! That’s enough.” You interrupt, standing in between them now. You face Chris, placing a hand on his chest as he continues to glare at Matt from above your head.

His heart is pounding with anger, and he takes a deep breath before looking at you finally, his expression only slightly softening.

“Please… just let me talk to him and see what’s wrong. He obviously has something on his mind.”

Chris leans his head down to your ear, tucking his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Just don’t forget how I made you mine the other night… the things I was doing to you in my bed…I know you think about the way I make you feel when he touches you in all the places I do…” He places a soft, open mouth kiss to your neck, leaving shivers down your spine and a wetness in your underwear from his words.

Matt clears his throat, and Chris backs away from you, a smug look on his face. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

He walks off to his room, leaving a redness on your cheeks and your heart racing.

You turn around to Matt, a displeased frown on his face. “I don’t even want to know what he said to you.” He grumbles and grabs your hand so he can lead you to his room.

Time doesn’t seem to exist when Matt has you wrapped up in the silk sheets of his bed, his large hands on every part of your body, his soft lips tasting every inch of your skin. You seem to forget all the problems, all the stress, focused on the way he feels.

You’re currently face down, your upper body flat on his mattress and his hands holding your hips up in the air as he pounds into you repeatedly, knocking the breath out of your lungs. All you can do is fist the silk in your hands, a wet spot forming from the drool that pools out of your mouth.

It’s almost as if he’s punishing you for earlier, the way you let Chris spew filthy things into your ear while Matt stood directly behind you. He wanted to remind you that you were his and his only tonight.

But you were still his angel, perfect for him and could do no wrong in his eyes.

He runs his palms down your smooth back, letting his hands rest in the curve of your waist as he feels himself close. From the way you’re clenching around him and making little whimpers of his name, he knows you’re close too.

“Cum for me, angel.” He pants and you do as he says, your orgasm rippling through you for the second time tonight. It would’ve been the third time, had he stolen you away much earlier in the evening like he usually does.

Matt finishes seconds after you, filling you full of his release. After a minute or so, he collapses beside you, sweaty and breathless. You place your head on his chest, feeling tired but happy.

 Once you both settle down, you decide to bring up what he said earlier in the kitchen, your curiosity overcoming you. “Matt… what did you want to talk about with me?”

“I don’t know if now is the best time, Y/N.” He responds and you look up at him. His face is expressionless, looking straight head. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he massages your scalp lightly.

“Please tell me. I know something is wrong.” You plead with him.

He sighs and pulls you even closer, his chin now resting atop your head. Your face is buried into his neck, listening to his slow breaths, yet you feel his pulse pick up against you.

“I don’t want to share you anymore. That might be selfish, but I mean it. I know what we all agreed on… but I just can’t share you with him. It’s all I think about. Every time you’re with him, I can’t hide my anger. And I don’t want to hold that against him but I’m not willing to compromise anymore. I want you all to myself.”

His words sink into you, your heart almost faltering at the emotion laced in his words. You can’t see his eyes but you can only imagine the way his face must look as he speaks the truth to you. You had a feeling he was caught up about something, but you didn’t know it would be this.

You don’t know what to say, your fingers caressing the skin of his neck, as you process his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You loved him with every fiber of your being. But if you chose him, you would only be crushing Chris, who you also loved deeply.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know that.” He says softly after your lack of response and kisses the top of your head.

The two of you drift off to sleep after a while, holding each other and leaving the conversation for tomorrow.

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, some unknown force coaxing your eyes open. You feel thirsty, and sit up in Matt’s bed, seeing him sound asleep next to you.

You get up, pulling on your pajama shorts and t shirt, slowly pushing Matt’s bedroom door open so you don’t wake him and quietly walk to the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

Once you finish, you set the glass on the counter, running a hand through your hair. You think of Matt’s confession earlier, and how you would even begin to address it.

Lost in thought, you feel a hand creep onto your waist from behind and recognize the smell of Chris’s cologne. You jump slightly from his sudden presence and turn around to see a cheeky smile on his face.

“Sorry, mama. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispers and you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What are you doing up?” You ask him.

Chris has been awake since the moment he left you flustered in the kitchen earlier. He heard your sounds of pleasure from Matt’s room all night, driving him crazy. Every time it was Matt’s night with you, he was in the worst of moods. He couldn’t help how jealous he was.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” He simply replies, burying his face into your chest. “Thinking about you.”

He pulls the collar of your t-shirt down so he can place his lips on the swell of your breasts, letting his tongue poke out to run along your skin. You sigh, your hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, your other hand resting on top of the counter you were leaning on.

He places his hands on the small dip of your back, pulling your body even closer to him, his mouth now biting and sucking onto the flesh of your neck and breasts, like he’s starving for you.

“Chris…” You breathe out. It’s not exactly a sound of protest, coming out more like a moan. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin never fail to turn you on, your body a lit with a fire only he can start. He grabs you suddenly by the hips, lifting you up so you sit on the counter.

He stands in between your legs, holding your thighs and continuing to kiss the sweet spot on your neck, right below your ear. He knows how it drives you insane, and he’s getting hard already from the way you’re starting to pant, and tug at the hair on the back of his neck.

“Chris…” You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. You feel his hardness press against your throbbing core and you’re terrified Nick, who’s been out with his friends all day, might walk in on you two in the kitchen.

Or even worse, Matt. He would be absolutely furious.

“What is it, sweet girl? Hm? Talk to me…” He whispers, his breath hot against your skin. He sneaks his warm, soft hands under the hem of your shirt, running up to squeeze your breasts and knead them in his hands.

You moan at the contact, your grip in his hair tightening. “What? You scared of getting caught?” He continues, when you don’t say anything.

You nod and feel him smirk against your neck. “Don’t want Matt to see what I do to you?” He says and butterflies swirl around in your chest, your heart starting to race.

You don’t. You don’t want Matt to catch you on the counter with your legs wrapped around Chris as he leaves hickeys all over your skin, something Matt is sure to notice later. You don’t want to be unfair when it’s his night with you, something you all agreed that each of you would respect.

However, the rules have seemed to be bent lately, the boundaries that had been established now being pushed. This wouldn’t be the first time Chris or even Matt snuck around with you behind the other’s back. When either of them had the chance to find you alone, most of the time it ended up with stolen kisses and longing touches.

You couldn’t help but give into your desires every time you were around either of them, even if it was against the “rules.” And you hadn’t admitted it to either of them, but you craved to have both Matt and Chris at the same time again, like the first night on your bedroom floor.

Chris’s hands are gripping the top of your thighs, rubbing and caressing them as he now moves his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling lightly and then sucking before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan against his lips, his fingers rubbing your clit over the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. You weren’t wearing any panties, and he feels how wet you are for him, his touch only making you more aroused, creating a mess in your shorts. You could almost slip off the counter from how he’s making you melt around him. “Shit baby- does Daddy make you this fucking wet?” He groans, sucking on your tongue and your head spins.

He pulls the fabric of your shorts to the side, only teasing you for a little, running his fingers through your folds before pushing two deep inside you to the base of his knuckles. The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, failing to kiss him back now as you’re wrapped up in pleasure.

All that can be heard in the kitchen is the squelch of your pussy as he fucks you with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you with slow, deep strokes. Your legs are trembling around his waist and he wraps one large hand around your throat and looks you in your eyes. It’s dark but you can see the ring of blue around his blacked-out eyes, nothing but lust seeping out of them.

“Tell me only I can make you feel this way. You’re not cumming until I hear you say it.”

Fuck.

You secretly loved when Chris was possessive over you, but you didn’t want to undermine Matt even if he wasn’t here to listen to you say it.

He speeds up the thrusting of his fingers, his grasp on your throat tightening. He’s brushing that spot that’s deep inside you, making you ready to crumble around him. “Y/N. Tell me who you really belong to. I need to fucking hear it.”

“Chris, please.” You beg him, not wanting to say what he’s asking from you. You’re so close, you need to release but you know he would punish you for days if you cum without his permission. It’s a twisted game. And you loved it.

You still say silent, panting as he shakes his head and then removes his fingers from your aching cunt. “No. Only good girls get to cum.” He tells you and then drops to his knees, keeping his eyes on you as he spreads your legs wider, now resting them on his shoulders and pulls you roughly to the edge of the counter, so he can lick at your wetness slowly, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Keep your eyes on me. And tell me what I already know baby. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for Daddy?” He rasps and then pushes his fingers back inside you, harder this time, his lips attached to your puffy clit. He’s determined to have you cumming all over his mouth and fingers, as long as you say what he wants to hear.

He digs his other hand into the flesh of your thigh as you stare down at him, the look on his face only pushing you closer to your orgasm. “Come on sweetheart, I know you’re close. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your hips are practically bucking off the counter top as you ride his face, his hold on you strong. It feels so good that you would say anything he asked at this point, feeling yourself clench around his fingers.

“I’m yours Chris.” You moan, and he sucks on your clit harder, releasing for a short few seconds to respond. “There’s my girl… it feels so good to hear you say it. That you’re only mine. Isn’t that right?”

You nod helplessly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter and your other one tangled in his hair. “Yes, Chris. I’m all yours. Only yours. Fuck-“You feel yourself coming undone as he’s brushing your g spot with the tips of his fingers again, kissing your inner thighs.

“Such a good fucking girl. You can cum, Ma, cum all over my hand.” He breathes. He could almost cum in his pants from hearing you say the words. He wants you all to himself, all day and every day. He was so in love with you.

You’re releasing onto his fingers, leaking down his hand and thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, moaning his name loudly.

He watches you in amazement, your head thrown back in ecstasy, the reddish purple marks on your neck now visible to him and he swells with pride. He stands up to hold you against him as you catch your breath and you clutch onto him, your arms around his neck as you calm down.

It’s then that you make eye contact with Matt, who’s standing across the other side of the kitchen with his arms crossed. It makes a shock run through you.

It is a little naïve of you not to think he wouldn’t catch you. And there’s a look on his face you’ve only seen once before since you known him. The first time being when he caught you with Chris’s dick in your mouth on the living room couch a couple months ago. Granted, it wasn’t Matt’s night but he was pissed at the audacity of you two to mess around there instead of the privacy of Chris’s room. It didn’t help with the jealous rage Matt possessed anytime he saw Chris with you.

And now, this is what he stumbles upon after waking up to see you missing from his bed. Chris making you cum with his head in between your legs on the counter.

He was livid, to say the least.

You remove your arms from Chris’s neck and open your mouth to begin to speak but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you.” Your mouth snaps back shut, and you almost shrink back from the harshness of his tone.

Chris turns around, and once he sees how mad he is, he smirks, his hands still on your legs. “Sorry, Matt. Just couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me?”

Matt doesn’t even look at Chris, his eyes still burning into you.

“This is what you want, angel? You’re not just satisfied with only one of us for the night?”

“No, Matt I-“

“Did I say you could talk?” He cuts you off again.

His arms are still crossed, his checkered blue pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He doesn’t have a shirt on and the veins in his arms pop out, his hair still messy from sleep. The tone in his voice scares and excites you at the same time.

“Since you want to act so desperate and needy, you’ll get what you want. But on my terms.”

Your heart races at what he’s suggesting and memories of him and Chris from that first night flood your mind, making you wet all over again.

“Go to my room and wait there.” He demands and you look hesitantly between him and Chris.

Chris smiles at you, a mischievous look on his face. He squeezes your thigh before helping you off the counter, and motions for you to go on. “Go ahead, baby. We won’t be long.”

You’re dumbfounded at the turn this night has taken as you walk off towards Matt’s room, hearing them exchange words but not able to make out what they’re saying, an anxious but excited feeling in the pit of your stomach.

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @jnkvivi @sturnpooks

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo oneshots

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 6

[all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I feel like this chapter took forever to write, but it was literally only a week (also shoutout to @eddiernunson for helping with it!)??? I put so much work into this one, so I can't wait to see what everyone thinks! Updates will probably change to weekly for the time being, as chapters are starting to get longer. Enjoy~~

wc: 5.7k

taglist: @a-queen-blr @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Eddie once again met you outside the school on Monday morning, waiting - presumably for you - near the front entrance. As you spotted one another, Eddie grinned flirtatiously, and you relaxed your face, realizing that before making eye contact with Eddie that your jaw was clenched and your gaze was harsh. You hadn’t realized how cold your neutral expression was up until recently.

Eddie pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, meeting you at the front door in time to open it for you. The corner of your lip pulled up in thanks, and once you were both inside, Eddie rested his arm over your shoulders, causing you to let out a surprised breath as your neck grew just a touch warm. You were glad that you happened to have a book to hold and keep your hands occupied, as you just knew without it you’d have crossed your arms or let them awkwardly hang at your side; even in previous real relationships, you weren’t a particularly physical person.

“Princess,” He greeted mockingly, as if he knew putting his arm around you would make you tense.

Your eyes narrowed a little as you taunted back, “Freak.”

“I thought we said only nice nicknames.” Eddie turned his over-dramatic, sad eyes on you.

“I also remember telling you not to call me ‘princess.’” You retorted, intentionally avoiding his eyes.

“Ah, but it suits you, doesn’t it?” Eddie continued teasing as various students looked your way, some doing double-takes as they realized who you were walking with. Your eyes briefly flicked up to his face, but you looked away before he could notice your gaze.

As the pair of you approached your locker, you were almost disappointed that no one was lingering there prepared to try and drag you back in with the crowd you always knew. It was nearly surprising just how quickly everyone seemed to leave you in the dust the moment you started feigning any interest in Eddie - years of friendship really seemed to mean nothing, huh? But the disappointment didn’t show on your face, as it was outweighed by the opposite sense of relief that you didn’t have to put on too much of a show, that your plan had done its job almost too well.

Once you were at the locker, Eddie let his arm fall from you so you could shuffle around in your bag and your locker. You both took that opportunity to look around, and you nearly smiled when you realized Eddie was doing exactly the same thing as you - that he was looking for reactions, that he was looking for the faces of people that knew either of you. So, you noted, he seemed to be enjoying this charade, too.

“So,” Eddie eventually leaned against the wall of lockers to look at you as you fussed with your belongings, “my band has shows on Tuesday nights.”

“You’re in a band?” You ask with a hint of disbelief, looking up at his face for a moment, which furrowed a little at your question.

“I did mention I play guitar.”

“You didn’t mention the guitar or the band.” You countered smartly, to which Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine,” You smirked to yourself while closing your locker, leaning your shoulder against it to mirror Eddie’s pose, “You should come to our show tomorrow.”

Before you could stop yourself, you made a critical face at the suggestion. Based on the way he dressed, you knew exactly the kind of music Eddie most likely played, and you were far from interested in that. And you had no idea if he was good or not, or who the hell his bandmates were - for all you knew, they were even bigger losers than him.

In response to your mean expression, Eddie narrowed his eyes, his jaw a touch tight, “Stop being stubborn. Maybe you’ll enjoy it.”

“I doubt it,” you said with an unamused grin. A moment later, Eddie looked past your shoulder, his eyes showing recognition for whoever the hell he was looking at. You whip around to see a friend of his, the one with the locker near yours; said friend appeared a little confused as he looked between you and Eddie.

Without warning, Eddie snatched your hand and dragged you in the other boy’s direction, causing you to nearly trip in the process. You, of course, glared at him for how quickly he pulled you along, but you said nothing as the two of you approached his puzzled friend.

“Gareth,” Eddie started with a charismatic grin, his voice loud with excitement that you weren’t prepared for. He tugged you alongside him, keeping a hold on your hand as if he were enjoying the fact that you couldn’t just pull away. With his free hand, Eddie presented you as if you were some prize, “You’re familiar with the resident ice princess.”

Gareth’s eyes went back and forth between the two of you, trying to keep his confusion from totally twisting his expression, which he did a poor job of. You, as well, were trying to keep your face from showing any annoyance or disorientation from this whole thing, although you were certain you instead just looked like a total bitch.

“Yes…” Gareth started hesitantly, his eyes finally settling on Eddie’s face, “I didn’t think you two knew each other, though…”

“Recent development.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly, releasing your hand only to throw his arm on your shoulders again before you could retreat. You side-eyed him, briefly unconcerned with whether or not Gareth saw it - Eddie was being exceptionally annoying this morning.

“How did you two…?” Gareth pointed between you, his muddled voice trailing off.

You and Eddie looked at one another with realization - you didn’t have an answer for that. Neither of you had even considered that that was a story you needed, and you felt stupid for not thinking about it from the get go. Now, one of you had to come up with it on the fly; you weren’t sure if you’d prefer coming up with it yourself or leaving it to Eddie.

You should probably take this one, you decided - just your luck, if you left it to Eddie he’d come up with the most ridiculous story that could never hold up. Still staring up at him, you take a deep breath, prepared to come up with some explanation quickly, but Eddie beat you to the punch.

“We were meeting for a deal,” he began, and you briefly wondered if he was about to tell Gareth the truth, “chatting became flirting, so I asked her out on a whim; didn’t expect her to actually say ‘yes,’ though.”

Eddie gave you that charming smile of his, feeling your shoulders relax - that explanation was nice and simple, believable enough that no one would ask questions. It looked like it appeased Gareth, too, because his confusion didn’t appear nearly as blatant as it was a minute ago. You were sure he still found it odd and probably had minor doubts, but he didn’t seem the type to vocalize those things.

“She’s coming to our show tomorrow night.” Eddie added, to which you turned your harsh stare onto him again. Your mouth immediately opened to dispute, although you hesitated for a moment as you realized Eddie did this on purpose - he dragged you over  to his friend and put you on the spot, thinking you wouldn’t be able to argue in front of someone else. And you nearly debated whether or not you should, however, the small, smug look on Eddie’s face was exactly the catalyst you needed.

“I never said that.” You stated simply, watching the surprise that crossed Eddie’s face; yup, he didn’t think you’d debate this if another person was involved. You could see the hesitation in Gareth’s body language, could see that he was still getting over the fact that you and Eddie were, apparently, together.

“I thought you did?” Eddie put on a very convincing look, pretending to mull it over, trying to set you up to agree to it. You’d hand it to him, he was determined.

“No.” You raised your brow to challenge him, and you couldn’t help the small defiant smirk that dared to cross your lips, “I’ll need some incentive for that.”

“Whatever you want.” Eddie said without hesitation, returning his attention to Gareth with a humorous smile, “She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”

To that, you gave his chest a little smack, meeting Gareth’s eyes, which remained just as perplexed as before. Your customary impassive expression was on your face, “No, I’m worse.”

Gareth nearly looked nervous until you finally cracked a small smile, although he still seemed put off - he probably didn’t know whether or not you were kidding, even as you grinned at him. Maybe you needed to relax and not scare Eddie’s friends too much, it may eventually piss him off.

Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze, as if it were a silent plea for you to behave yourself. You looked at his face for a few moments, once again challenging him, before returning your eyes to Gareth with a sigh.

“I’m not that bad.” You reassure plainly, certain that you don’t sound terribly convincing. Nonetheless, Gareth’s face isn’t nearly as hesitant, although you knew he was far from coming around to you.

“You get used to it.” Eddie chimed in while giving your shoulders a little tug, a signal that you two should start walking, “Don’t let her scare you too much, Gareth, the power will go to her head.”

You gave his chest another small smack while you scoffed. Eddie simply grinned and shook his head in amusement; he gave Gareth a nod of farewell before you two began to walk through the hall towards your first class of the day. Once you were out of earshot, you looked up at Eddie from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t set me up like that.” You instruct plainly, trying to avoid any malice that you would’ve used on him only a week ago.

“Oh, lesson learned.” Eddie retorted with a small sound of mirth, “I should’ve known you’d enjoy being difficult in front of other people.”

You shrugged, finding some mild amusement in it as well, “I just can’t seem to help myself.”

“You can say that again.” The pair of you walk in an easy silence for a few moments before Eddie looks at you with hopeful eyes, “But you will come tomorrow, right?”

You raise your brows at him, your face showing your disagreement with the question, “It’s not like I need to - I doubt anyone will be there to see us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how easily his thoughts and feelings about you fluctuated - one second, he enjoyed your company, the next he found you tiresome.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie started, studying your face, “Are we dating or not?”

“Well--”

“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut you off, knowing exactly what you’d say to his poorly phrased question. You nearly laughed, but tried to keep a straight face - you didn’t need Eddie seeing you amused while you were trying to argue your case with him, “You know you have to meet my friends eventually, might as well be now. And I’d bet your parents wouldn’t be so happy about you going to a dive bar with a guy they don’t even know.”

As you two paused outside of your classroom, you gave Eddie a scrutinizing look, mulling over his two points - the one about his friends was neither here nor there, but he did make a good point about your parents. And from the look on his face, you figured he also knew that it was a good point.

While you studied him, Eddie leaned towards your face, his voice challenging, “Live a little.”

You narrowed your eyes, wanting to argue despite knowing that you were already losing. As you stared at one another, Eddie raised his brows impatiently, urging you to agree already and stop being so stubborn. You finally shook your head with a sigh of defeat, your brow furrowing even more as a cocky grin spread across Eddie’s lip.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not gonna like it.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You sneered with distaste as you eyed the Hideout, your gaze critical as you took in the neon signs, the filthy windows, and the crowds of older bikers and alcoholics. This is the place Eddie dragged you to? You could kill him for not better preparing you for just how seedy and unsavory it would be.

Behind you, Eddie and the band were pulling equipment from the back of the van, the clatter of cymbals and their mingling voices drawing your attention. As you turned around, they all quickly whipped their eyes in another direction, quieting just a little - of course they’d been staring at you, talking about you. How could they not, considering that all of a sudden you were dating one of the losers amongst them. And said loser gave you a friendly wink as you met his eyes, but your attention turned back to his friends, making them all nervous with your intense gaze.

Admittedly, you loved that they were scared of you, loved that they were too damn nervous to even look you in the eye. You couldn’t help but find it funny, and you figured it would take a long time to get them to even talk to you without tripping over their words.

You crossed your arms as you looked back up at the bar again, frowning, “This place looks like a venereal disease waiting to happen.”

You heard one of them make a surprised sound at your comment; you’d bet the band was sharing shocked, nervous glances just behind you.

“Relax, princess,” Eddie flung his arm over you, his guitar case in the opposite hand, “just try to have fun, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

You gave him a smart look, “You say that now, but just you wait until some creep tries to grope me.”

Eddie blew air between his lips, “You’d probably scare anyone that even looked at you funny. Besides, you already let one creep grope you.”

He made a grabby hand over your shoulder as if to suggest he was about to touch you indecently, and behind you two the band chuckled, causing Eddie to grin largely. You gave him an affronted look as you hit his shoulder.

“Shut up!” You were taken aback by the joke, but you realized Eddie was probably all riled up by his friends - he was a boy, after all, they always said shit just to make their friends laugh.

“Sorry, sorry.” He raised his arms in surrender, his eyes apologetic as they met yours, “None of those jokes, I get it.”

You continued to glare at him for another moment before looking back towards the band. Eddie introduced the other two that you hadn’t met before, but you were already forgetting their names. Jeff? Grant? You weren’t totally certain. You could see a thoughtful furrow in Gareth’s brow as you glanced over all of them, and something told you to pay attention to him - you had a feeling he didn’t believe you and Eddie, that if anyone were to figure out your lie it would be him. That made him a far more observant friend than any of yours.

Eddie took hold of your hand and started dragging you to the bar, his band following right behind the pair of you. As Eddie held the door open, the sound of bluesy rock music met your ears, and you took in the various patrons and surroundings of the Hideout. You could immediately tell the Hideout seemed to cater to musicians - the stage was cramped, but well-loved, central with bright lights and a crowd formed to watch the band currently in the spotlight. The place wasn’t packed - after all, it was a Tuesday - but there were more people than you were expecting.

You could tell your group brought the median age of the bar down dramatically, everyone else looking 40 or older. As you made your way through the patrons, a few glanced at the band in recognition, one man even clapping Eddie on the shoulder as you passed. Corroded Coffin must have spent a lot more time here than you gave them credit for.

You stayed practically tucked into Eddie’s side as he led you through the Hideout, not wanting to get lost amongst the crowd of drunks. Once you reached the bar, Eddie greeted the bartender with familiarity, pulling you in closer to introduce you to the man with an eager grin, really selling that you were his girlfriend. His tone could’ve even fooled you.

“Keep an eye on her, alright, she’s trouble.” Eddie joked with the bartender, causing you to roll your eyes as they laughed.

“You look like you can handle yourself.” The bartender offered while meeting your eyes. Although he had a rough exterior, there was nothing about his gaze that felt off, so you gave him a small look of confirmation.

“That’s the problem.” Eddie teased, looking at you playfully.

You realized the rest of Corroded Coffin was already waiting in the wings, watching the other band finish up their set. Eddie gave your hand a small tug, drawing your attention back to him; he leaned down a little as he spoke, mouth close to your ears so you could hear him over the loud music.

“Stay here with Jack, alright?” He nodded his head towards the bartender, “That way I don’t lose you.”

“I thought you said this place wasn’t as bad as it looked.” You pulled back a little so he could see you raise a taunting brow.

“It’s not.” He reiterated, “but just my luck, you’ll draw trouble to you.”

You hummed in disagreement, “If there’s trouble, that’s on you.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Eddie grinned in contrast to his words, his eyes amused. He leaned towards you again as if he wanted to put on some show of physical affection, but hesitated; why did that ever so briefly make you nervous? Instead, he pulled his hand from yours while bringing his lips close to your ear again; you unconsciously flexed your hand now that it was free.

“We’re going on soon. Try to have fun.” Eddie took a deep breath before pulling back, and you almost thought that he had smelled your hair, but you figured that couldn’t be true.

As he’d done before, Eddie’s fingers grazed your back as he walked off in the direction of the stage. You watched him closely, the realization hitting you that this was a new place and you knew no one here. And it’s not that that frightened you or made you nervous, but the observation put you on your guard, made you a little more tense and aware of your surroundings.

Your eyes stayed locked on Eddie as he laughed with his friends, taking the stage to set up their equipment. You took the opportunity to study him, taking in the way his laugh spread through his entire body, the way he seemed to be so much more dramatic and playful and boisterous with his friends around. For a few moments, you didn’t even realize you were nearly smiling, although your expression quickly evened out with that realization. What the hell were you smirking about?

“Drink?” Jack’s gravelly voice asked over your shoulder, so you turned back towards the bar and eyed him momentarily.

“No, I’m not--”

He cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand, knowing what you were going to say about your age, “Does this look like the kind of place that cares?”

His tone was matter-of-fact, and you smirked in appreciation at it. You considered for a moment what you wanted to drink, hopping up into one of the bar chairs as Jack watched you patiently, “What’s the girliest drink you know how to make?”

He laughed at the question, shaking his head but accepting it, “Ah, one girly drink coming right up.”

The corner of your mouth tugged back - there was something about Jack that instantly amused you. Maybe his grumpy vibes were entertaining, or maybe it was the fact that he found his own amusement in your drink order. Regardless, maybe it wasn’t so bad that Eddie effectively left this man as your babysitter.

The sound of a bass being tuned caused you to look back up at the stage. Eddie’s guitar was slung over his shoulder as he discussed something with the band, everyone looking prepared to start any minute now.

As Jack set a pretty drink in front of you, Eddie tested the mic, looking delighted at the crowd as the band finished their preparation. Again, you caught yourself smiling a little, blindly picking up your drink from the bartop as you continued to watch Eddie.

Of course, the almost endearing look on your face disappeared entirely once the music started. Just as you had expected, the drums were loud, the guitar thrashing, and Eddie’s singing rough and whiny. You couldn’t help the sneer on your face - this was so not your kind of music. Although the crowd seemed to respond positively, this just wasn’t your scene, and you unintentionally sat stiffly in your seat.

You hoped the lights were bright enough that Eddie couldn’t see you. Considering that his eyes hadn’t settled on you in some time, you figured the stage lighting made it difficult to find you. You just knew the disinterest that your body language exuded was bound to annoy him to some extent. Sure, you could fake being his girlfriend easily enough, but you couldn’t fake any interest in metal music. It was so damn loud and aggressive that it made your chest hurt and left your head confused.

However, once you got past that, you were able to study Eddie a little more. He was… actually good at this. You knew absolutely nothing about music, but just from watching Eddie you recognized how complicated the guitar was, how much skill it actually took to play these complex chords. His vocals were another story, but with that guitar Eddie showed an impressive amount of expertise, skilled hands with an intense care and focus. At one point, you nearly began to zone out while watching Eddie’s hands work up and down the neck of the guitar, and when you finally shook yourself out of the trance, you had to wonder just how long you’d been staring so damn intently at Eddie’s hands.

As the band played on, Jack brought you a second drink before you were even done with your first. You smiled in thanks before knocking back what was left in your first glass. Like any good popular high school kid, you’d been to your fair share of parties with alcohol aplenty, but that didn’t make you any less of a lightweight. One drink you could handle just fine, but it was always the second drink that started to make things a little blurry. So, you eyed your new glass warily, deciding whether or not you were brave enough to drink it.

But what did you have to lose? Despite its appearances, you were safe enough here at the Hideout, you figured you wouldn’t be out too late, and one more drink wasn’t going to totally mess you up. So, you grabbed the glass decisively, returning your attention to Eddie as you took a sip. You’d just cut yourself off after this one, no need to get plastered on a Tuesday night.

But damn it, Jack was too good a bartender, because as you were about finished with this glass, he put another in front of you. You furrowed your brows a little, stopping him before he could walk away and attend to the other patrons.

“I really shouldn’t!” You had to shout over how damn loud Corroded Coffin was - did someone turn up the speakers, or did they sound even louder because of your drinks? Jack leaned on the counter, his expression gruff but his eyes somehow still kind. He pointed in Eddie’s direction.

“Have one more, I trust that kid’ll take good care of you.” You made a doubtful face, looking between Jack and the drink. Unconsciously, you went back to sipping at the one in your hand, scrutinizing the bartender, “I’ve known Eddie since he was 14 - when I say he’ll take good care of you, I mean it.”

The comment was surprisingly genuine, causing you to cock your head curiously. Seeing something in your expression change, Jack gave you the slightest of smirks before turning his attention onto the other waiting customers. You realized a moment later that you hit the bottom of your glass; you stared at the melting ice briefly before looking at the new drink in front of you. Fine, one more. As you swapped the glasses, you hopped to your feet, forgetting that Eddie had asked you to stay at the bar.

That second drink put you a little more at ease; the loud music didn’t bother you nearly as much as it did before, and you didn’t mind pushing your way through the bar patrons anymore. You didn’t know where you wanted to go exactly, but you knew you needed to get on your feet for a little bit. So, you began to maneuver closer to the stage, keeping to one side of the crowd so you weren’t entirely packed between people. Your gaze stayed almost zeroed in on Eddie, taking in his stage presence thoughtfully.

Aside from him actually showing talent that you weren’t expecting, you also noticed how excited he was to be up there playing for people. The elation in his face, the animation in his body language - he had a lot of love for music, that was obvious to you. And because the drinks had been loosening you up over the course of the set, you realized that you were actually smiling as you watched him, actually enjoying the sight of Eddie live it up on this dinky little stage.

You didn’t even try to fight the look on your face, assuming that Eddie still couldn’t see you - you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were having a good time, after all. You even caught yourself tapping your foot along to the music at one point, as if the rhythm was beginning to make sense to you. It was more than just cacophonous noise - or at least that’s how it felt now that you were nearly three drinks deep - although you still didn’t quite understand the appeal of metal. Nonetheless, you found yourself trying to enjoy it.

It was as Eddie announced the final song that you finished your drink, leaving the empty glass on some nearby table. For a moment, you caught yourself wishing you weren’t here alone, wishing you could’ve dragged Amelia or Janet here to keep you company. Although the music and venue were far from anyone’s taste, this was exactly the kind of thing you all would have normally done together. But just as quickly as you thought that, you also remembered all the times Amelia had just disappeared on you at parties, all the times Janet flaked at the last minute when you discussed going to shows up in Indianapolis.

You got so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized Corroded Coffin just wrapped up their set. And you didn’t come back to yourself until a hand cupped your ass, immediately setting you off like dynamite.

You whipped around to find a grimy but otherwise nondescript man lingering behind you, a slimy look on his face. You were also briefly aware of Eddie’s voice calling something from the wing of the stage, but you were already in go-mode, arm reeling and swinging ungracefully to crack the guy. Your aim was a little off and you nearly missed, but you still managed to make contact, although with his throat rather than his jaw like you intended. If there was any pain in your own hand, you probably wouldn’t notice it until tomorrow.

As he stumbled back, you felt someone else come up behind you, and you were about ready to hit them, too, until you were spun around to face Eddie. He held your shoulders, but you still had to steady yourself by grabbing his forearms, meeting his shocked eyes with far too much of a calmness about you. Eddie’s brow furrowed as he looked you up and down then looked past you at the man you hit, then back at you.

“Jesus, can’t leave you alone, can I?” His tone was bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe he saw you, the ice princess, hit a guy. Sure, he knew you had quite a bark, but he didn’t know you also had a bite.

Thanks to the drinks in you, a laugh escaped your throat - was it a nervous one, or did you find the whole thing actually funny? You looked back at the man to see him already being taken care of, Jack dragging him out of the bar. No one else seemed to bat an eye at the ruckus, perhaps because they were used to it, choosing to carry on and ignore it. You met Eddie’s concerned eyes again, grinning uncharacteristically large.

“Fucking idiot.” Eddie looked nearly offended until he realized you were talking about the man and not him. He sighed, shaking his head with near mirth, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing.

But after a few moments, he laughed - it was small and breathy, but when his eyes met yours again, there was definitely a glimmer of amusement there. He stepped back from you looking around in disbelief, a smile threatening to pull at his lips.

“Don’t piss you off, got it.” Eddie finally smiled while looking you up and down; now that the shock had passed, he was actually a little impressed by how it handled yourself. Feeling a touch sobered up, you shrugged in defense of yourself.

“Well, he shouldn’t have acted like an idiot.” Eddie chuckled at your comment, nodding in agreement.

“I didn’t know you had a right hook like that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You counter, swaying a little on your feet yet again, which made your statement nearly laughable. Eddie put out his arm in case he needed to steady you, looking you over heedfully.

“I think it’s time we get you home.” He says simply, putting his hand to the small of your back and guiding you towards the band as they packed up their equipment. You allowed him to lead you, although you rolled your eyes a little at how cautious he was being with you, as if you were a baby bird or something.

“Oh, come on, the night is young.” You say far too lightheartedly, making Eddie eye you with a curious look - after all, this lax attitude was incredibly odd for you. Is this how you always behaved when you drank? Open and approachable and even a little fun? He’d have to keep that in mind, keep an eye on you in the future.

“You’ll regret saying that tomorrow.” Eddie teased while grabbing his guitar case from where it leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, you relaxed against a nearby speaker, watching as the group finished collecting their belongings. You realized Gareth was looking at you, and rather than glower as you’d normally do, you instead gave him a tipsy grin. That seemed to confuse him even more, as he nervously looked back at what he was doing.

“You guys aren’t half bad.” You say to no one in particular, although they all briefly glanced up with varying degrees of surprise. Only Eddie smiled.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” He ribbed. You playfully made a face, but didn’t grace him with a response.

Eventually, you and Eddie were back in the van, the rest of Corroded Coffin having carpooled separately. As Eddie pulled away from the Hideout, you watched him drive, studying his hands as they drummed on the steering wheel. Some metal music you weren’t familiar with played through the speakers, but luckily Eddie kept the volume low enough that your brain didn’t rattle.

Watching Eddie’s fingers move, you recalled his skill on the guitar, how easily his fingers slid over the strings, how his hands practically danced on the instrument. It was a talent that you actually found quite impressive, although you weren’t about to divulge that information to him. You turn your attention to his face, how the moonlight highlighted certain features; a sheen of sweat caused his bangs to stick to his forehead, his cheeks still flushed, a content look settled on his face. Once again, you found yourself zoning out as you stared at him.

“You were good tonight.” The words left your mouth unexpectedly as you continued staring at him, and Eddie looked over at you with disbelief, as if you actually giving him a compliment was so foreign. His eyes pulled you from your slight daze, and you tried to collect yourself but fumbled, “You’re good at… guitar.”

God, that sounded stupid. And as if to emphasize it, Eddie laughed merrily, clearly delighted by your own confusion in your phrasing. You glared harshly, hating the fact that you sounded so dumb.

“Your singing could use some fucking work, though.” You retaliated unnecessarily, huffing as you crossed your arms and slouched in the seat. Eddie’s laughter died down as he looked at your pouting face, although that in itself made him want to keep laughing. But he pushed down that desire, not wanting to get you riled up.

“Oh, come on,” he reached over to nudge your knee, his palm hot against your skin. If you weren’t so grumpy, you probably would have liked the feel of it, “Sorry… but thank you. Glad to know I’m good at guitar.”

You glanced at him, still glaring, but his expression was genuine and nonjudgmental, sweet even, and you felt yourself begin to relax.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

[shuttershocky]

Is there any power scaling discussion that will inevitably make you feel the need to respond, no matter how irrelevant power scaling is to the actual media in question?

"How did Nero defeat Vergil at the end of DMC5 he's only 1/4th demon he should be much weaker wahh wahh plot armor"

First of all, Nero won because he wanted to win more than Vergil did. Second of all, Vergil's used to fighting an agile clown like Dante and not a brute gorilla like Nero who has no problem with just grabbing him and slamming him into the dirt repeatedly until he cries uncle.

BUT ALSO we know that human blood fuels demons in Devil May Cry. They have to consume it to grow their powers, which is why these guys keep powering all their infernal machinery with blood and why the tree whose fruit is kingmaker of the underworld must feed on human blood.

Before Nero, it looks like Vergil and Dante's strength came from being the sons of Sparda, who was Mundus' strongest soldier and was able to solo all of hell for his lady love.

But honestly I think a lot of their power comes from their nature as hybrids. When Urizen consumes the same fruit that made Mundus king of the underworld, he gets torn a brand new asshole by Dante working with an 8 year old's logic (if Vergil cut himself in two with the Yamato, maybe stabbing myself with Rebellion glues both my sides tighter?) and it actually works.

Not only is Dante's SIN Devil Trigger form written down in Nico's notes as matching (or even surpassing) Sparda's peak, he crushes Urizen both before and after the latter consumes the fruit containing human blood worth millions, completely mystifying the demon king because what the fuck kind of bullshit powerup is that?

Urizen's only able to match Dante's strength once V fuses his human self back into him to recreate Vergil.

I think being a demon-human hybrid basically acts like an infinite human blood battery. It's already inside you and never runs out because your body just makes more blood. The demonic side isn't granting the power, it's granting the abilities; the human side is the gas fueling this killing machine.

The whole time Sparda was turning on his own hell legions for Earth pussy he was unknowingly stumbling into the blueprint for creating unbeatable demonic super soldiers, and had no idea.

Every time Dante defeated the likes of Mundus or Argosax they must have been calling horseshit because there's no way they're getting destroyed by this buffoon just because he's Sparda's son when fighting skills aren't something you inherit like it's hair color, not realizing Dante's powers are fueled by his own blood (and plenty of self-stabbing).

This means that Nero is not inherently weaker than Vergil or Dante by having less demon in him, because it's the hybrid nature itself being their strength.

While Nero's powers aren't as mature as theirs, his demonic strength is enough to grab both Dante and Vergil's SIN devil trigger forms and push them back when they charged at full might, and in fact he's physically strong enough to lift giants like Goliath and ragdoll them around like their name is Bluto and he's just eaten a can of spinach.

Dante even points out at the end that Vergil cut off his own son's arm for more power and the son still kicked his ass anyway. By the end of DMC5 Nero doesn't need the Yamato anymore to do Buster moves, he can shape his own aura into arms to punch and grab things just as effectively, making him completely independent from actually using any devil arms to fight (he only needs human weapons like Lady does). He's strong enough that Dante trusts him with protecting the world by himself while Dante goes to hell, which is a big ask given you know, everything in DMC 1-4.

TL;DR - Nero strong

[manicpixiefelix]

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

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It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

[jennifer-jeong]

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

[Fluff + Angst] [Love and Deepspace Boys x Fae!Reader] Angel

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier angst #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne angst #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #lads fluff #l&ds fluff #j's silly ramblings

[bibuddie]

okay i'll bit why exactly do we want tommy in more episodes? ....like are we not rooting for buddie, why do we want tommy here when if he sticks around the chances of us getting buddie are going to drop significantly, like we should want him gone by the end of the season. I don't want him sticking around because he's a threat to the story I've wanted the writers to do for the last 6 years. I guess I assumed with your URL that you're also rooting for Buddie but perhaps I was wrong and you're rooting for Bucktommy to be endgame which just absolutely not, sorry. Yeah 3 episodes vs 6 years, does not even match.

okay idk what’s in the air today but as my beloved @canonbibuck so eloquently put, “we want tommy in more episodes so he can stick his tongue into buck’s anus. hope this helps”

on a real, first of all, please remember this is all fiction. like, we’ve lost the plot so severely i think. second of all, i’d love to introduce you to this GROUNDBREAKING concept called ✨multishipping✨!! back in the days when one direction rpf was a bigger thing and even before that, everyone was shipped with EVERYONE. in fact, it was ENCOURAGED!! the more ships under your belt, the better!! now it’s much less endorsed and i honestly have no idea why!! THIRDLY like, in the loveliest kindest way possible, i have stuff going on outside of tumblr and like i genuinely don’t think its that deep?? i get wanting your ship to be endgame (i’m actually rooting for buddie endgame despite what you want to believe), but this website isn’t my entire life?? i’m in the middle of a biomedical science major, i’m spending my full summer doing some really cool research at a really prestigious university, i’m doing stuff i’m really proud of, and i’m so happy that there’s other things in my life apart from this website and this show. i love it, and i love the community on here for the most part, but i think it’d pay for all of us to remember it really isn’t That deep in the slighest. breathe, relax your shoulders, it’s fine. me enjoying bucktommy while it lasts and writing fic about them won’t kill you, i swear.

(and yeah, i want tommy to stick around. i’ve actually got reallt attached. his crinkly eyes and crooked smile have beguiled me. sue me.)

#bucktommy #anon #asks

[mihai-florescu]

Putting a message i sent earlier under a read more, it has some thoughts ive expressed before tho. ES, of course

My thoughts as an EichiP... i view ! and !! as different stories in the way they're approached tbh, what i fell in love with enstars for was the character driven storytelling of one event seen through different perspectives, where you see the antagonist in one perspective become a protagonist in another story and can empathize with the entire cast like this. I fell in love with eichi's story of second chances, getting what you want and regretting your actions in the process, redemption, desperation, overcoming fate and asserting one's self into the story, saving a school in a dying industry that saved your life by giving you a dream; i consider it an arc fulfilling to the reader at the end of ! era. But we still had to continue... and it's not like we didnt get inklings of eichi's dreams of idol utopia, the idol soldier idea goes back to main story 1, but !! loses the charm of the original series through expanding the worldbuilding so much and shifting to a plot driven story that opens 10 cans of worms instead of offering resolutions. There's not really room to breathe if the stakes just keep getting higher and higher...

As for the colonisation plotline, it's been here since the beginning of ES2. The SS arc makes it obvious, but i remember even before, the talks about ES taking over from local businesses, trying to be seen as the standard, it was always the direction ensemble square as an institution would take. But the "antagonist in one story, protagonist in another" approach doesnt work anymore with such subjects. The guys responsible for this are your coworkers you share dorms with. I read the stories but cant empathize anymore, so i've been feeling disconnected from eichi for a while. I see enstars with eichi at its core but i didnt care for his center event, i read it, didnt like the ending, and overall felt off. Eichi becoming the villain of ! to attone for the war kind of loses significance if a year later he is a cartoon villain idol colonialist you can't even sympathize with anymore because of the magnitude of events. However i do think !! has done good things for some characters pushing them further or developing them in a way ! didnt. But for others...

I also have my issues with sci fi elements becoming the norm, even taken metaphorically or as hyperboles, when one of the central themes i love about enstars is humanity. Then again, i am a war era fan that relied on manipulating human desires and perceptions, and the fact that there were no monsters or gods, just humans framed as such, playing on people's fears and beliefs, it's a bit jarring to me to have them introduce AIs forming from escaped comatose brains (im minimizing the switch climax rn, i didnt even hate it as a whole, just this resolution im unhappy with)

It also feels like we've lost some of the meta aspects of the writing i liked, a certain awareness of being characters in a story and there being an audience. But im still struggling to word my thoughts on this matter. I felt it present in main story 2, even if it annoyed me at parts in its obviousness ("good thing we're not protagonists, no one would want to read about us" youre right aira you are not interesting to me. And yet i'll read your story to try and empathize nevertheless. I have other thoughts on aira too, perhaps for another time). I wish we explored a bit more what it means to no longer be the central protagonist, from trickstar's perspective...and brought back the successors topic. But i havent read every ts story yet so i'd be foolish to complain before really making sure i've checked everything. To me ! ended satisfyingly with room left for elaborations and imagination, but i dont feel like !!'s ending is really ending anything at all. Not necessarily bad since it's not like the game is shutting down, but overwhelming worldbuilding wise while underwhelming character wise...

Let's see... im not sure how to end this. Just a bit of a stream of consciousness as a ! fan who still loves enstars despite my critiques. Mainly, well, no one's gonna take away the stories that already exist that i do love and impacted my life greatly. And i do think !! had some really good things too it brought, or at least stories i hold dear too. Change is scary and i don't think it's always for the best, but it's also fun to see where it goes next...

#enstars

[neversetyoufree]

I started vnc way back when there was only one volume, stopped, and only restarted it last week 🙈 since then, I have reread it twice and will again, once I'm done with exams, as it has turned me insane. And since no one I know reads it, I just wanted to ask what your thoughts are on my theory that the reason not 'didn't reach out to vanitas' thus leading to his death is because of Ruthven compulsion on him? Cuzco after the 'ill never set you free'thing, I just can't see noel not reaching out tonight purpose. Your blog is a joy to read through, and I love your meta!

Hello!! Thank you so much! It's always great to see another person having fun with my favorite manga :D.

My thoughts on Vanitas's eventual death are. complicated. If we keep going down the path we're on now, I honestly suspect Vanitas's death is going to be more assisted suicide than murder. IE, Vanitas asks for Noé to kill him because it's preferable to the alternative.

Per Ruthven's compulsion, I definitely think it's going to come up, and I do like the idea of Ruthven trying to force Noé to hurt or kill Vanitas, but I don't think it's going to be how Vanitas dies. In a way, I think that would feel somewhat cheap.

Noé killing Vanitas because of his oath to Ruthven would make sense on a plot level. It's a nice, logical explanation for why Noé would kill someone he so clearly adores. I can see why it's a lot of people's theory! However, that explanation wouldn't really deliver on an emotional level. It's just not interesting for Noé's characterization.

For one thing, making Noé kill Vanitas when he's not in control of himself would strip away all of Noé's agency. With VnC's opening chapter, Mochijun sets us up so that the entire time we're reading, we're asking ourselves "but why will Noé kill him?" It's a big source of intrigue and suspense. And to me, finally resolving that suspense with "It's not his fault! He was artificially forced to!" feels like a major letdown. It adds nothing to Noé's character. It's answering that all-important "why" with "There is no reason why. He didn't actually want to." I think that would be a cop-out.

Through that denial of agency, I think this ending would also risk losing out on a lot of potential character development for Noé. The core of Noé and Louis's tragedy is that Noé desperately wanted to save Louis, but the only kind of salvation Louis wanted from him was death, and Noé couldn't give him that.

Now Noé has another person close to him that is also seeking salvation through death. If Noé kills Vanitas, but he's not in control of himself when he does, that misses out on a big opportunity. Has Noé come to understand salvation through death? Has his worldview changed since Louis made that request of him? Does he have it in him to kill a loved one if that's what they ask? If Vanitas's death is forced by Ruthven, then we're much less likely to get answers to those questions.

Personally, my favorite hope/theory for how Ruthven's order will play out is the idea that Ruthven will order Noé to hurt/stop/kill Vanitas, but Vanitas will manage to snap Noé out of it in the same way Noé broke Vanitas's self-hypnosis in the amusement park. There's nothing I love more than a gay little parallel.

I can see a scenario where Ruthven's oath is what pushes Vanitas close to death? Maybe Noé will be ordered to try to kill Vanitas, and that will set off whatever horrible chain of events pushes Vanitas to ask for death that final time. But even if Ruthven does order Noé to hurt Vanitas (which is a big if), I don't think it will be what causes the killing blow.

#I think I remember posting some of these thoughts before years ago #but I'm having trouble finding any relevant posts. so here's this instead. #anyway I always feel a little bad when people send me their theories and I end up arguing against them #thank you for the ask genuinely! #it's an interesting theory and I do see why people like it. even if I don't want it to happen for the listed reasons #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #ask #anon #theory #the vanoé agenda #<<this isn't a ship post but that's my tag for everything about their relationship lol

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

How do you think Alastor will react to the realization that it is actually possible for Sinners to be redeemed if and/or when word of Pentious's ascension gets back to the Hotel? He seemed sincere in his desire to watch demons struggle and fail to better themselves when he first hired himself into the position of facility manager, but since S1 it seems more likely he's really only there to get his hooks into Charlie and doesn't actually care if the Hotel succeeds or fails as long as he gets what he wants out of the princess.

"The world's a stage, and a stage is a world of entertainment" -Alastor

Hello my pal,

Pilot Alastor does seem more motivated by his whims and wanting entertainment. (I mean, if you have to all eternity...Things get mundane...) But with Amazon picking up the show, he clearly has more motives beside being at the hotel for funsies. I'm sure, he always meant to have a lot of plot around him before Amazon but we actually get content and episodes to feed us.

Side note: I love both versions of Alastor. But I like pilot slightly more. I think his voice is more fitting for the transatlantic radio host voice (no offence of the current one at all. He doing great and probably done a better job on delivery...I mean that Fuck you was perfect.) Also, I really miss Alastor boots/hoofs click clacking around the hotel when he walked. I wish they kept that sound effect.

I think his reaction would really depend on who he contracted to and what his real hidden objective is with the hotel. Like...is he chained to Lilith and he not there for the hotel but to protect and help Charlie?

Or is he there to make sure the hotel fails to prevent an uprising, and forcing Heavens hand?

Is he placed there to get close and keep on eye on things and trick Charlie?

Is he there to make sure it succeeds so Heaven foundations begin to crumble and plants seeds of doubt amongst other things.

Overall, I think Alastor believe redemption was a loss cause. Even, if he was told my his contractor that it was possible he always doubted it. He made his point in the pilot. Paraphrase: Sinners are past redemption. Their chance was the life they lived before, the punishment of their actions is Hell. I think Alastor truly believes that. Or at least wants it to be that way. We know Alastor was a serial killer with a weird moral code and killed people who deserved it. I think Alastor would hate the idea that his victims has a chance for a place in Heaven if he hadn't double dead them already. Alastor knows how terrible people can be...hes one of them. I think the idea sinners like him having a chance to share a space with his mother in heaven puts a foul taste in his mouth.

So when its proven Redemption is possible. I think he will be quite stunned and shocked. He'll act ecstatic for show and probably his generally happy for Charlie achieving her dream. But depending the reason why he there and how he owns him, he going to be strongly conflicted.

Possible panic/nervous if he failed his objective and had to deal with the person who owns his soul, as they will be very displeased with him because of that fact. Perhaps worried, because it furthers his master's objective *CoughCough Roo CoughCough* Which is something he personally against, but doesnt have a say in the matter. Or maybe he just painfully conflicted as he knows the playing field is nearly completed on being set up and the time to betray Charlie and the others is rapidly approaching. -He grew attached to them and he faltering on the idea to betray (destroy?) them. Panics as years of planning and effort to fulfilling his masters objective that would release him from his deal once completed...only to hesitate because of some fond feelings for naive weaklings? Afraid to incur his master wrath and lost of freedom if he failed because he was swayed by his pathetic feelings. Or maybe hes excited because his part of the deal is over...but still feel conflicted as it would place the hotel and its people in a bad and dangerous position.

This is why Alastor is such a fun character. He a wild card. He can go in any direction...Hell, he can go in all directions. He can rationally plan and think one way, his feelings going screw that and head in another direction, fulfilling his obligations as overlord and hotelier in another direction, and his chained soul can just flip off all the former force them to go in the direction directed by the master holding the chain.

I believe despite Alastor disbelieving in redemption in the beginning, or maybe slightly oppose it. He is slowly warming up (but still not even room temperature) to the idea as his fondness grows to the residents of the hotel. He observes how the residence became better. How some (Angel) gone through enough in Hell that perhaps his sins he committed in his short life has been overpaid. Eternity is long and can be harsh...as some sinners may already sin once to be damned for all of eternity.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin thoughts #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel thoughts #the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel the radio demon

[quartings]

The original Gravity Falls pitches and pilot just dropped!!

(Link for those who want it)

For those who don't wanna look through all of it, here are some highlights I found!

Interesting changes from the pitch (What Alex Hirsch showed Disney to make them greenlight the show):

Stan’s secret was that he’s secretly protecting the townsfolk from weirdness, nothing to do with Ford. No mention of Ford in the pitch at all. Stan also wanted Dipper and Mabel to be his successors in this version.

Mabel used to be the unhygienic one instead of Dipper.

Wendy was brunette and didn’t work at the Mystery Shack, instead selling veggie juice out of her van.

As such, Soos (Jesús in this version) worked the register in addition to his handyman job in this version. He was a bit less of a hard worker here, watching telenovelas on the job sometimes, but still loves his job and is extremely loyal to Stan.

Robbie was almost exactly the same, parents’ backstory and all, but there’s an interesting note that he occasionally clashed with Gideon in this version (which we never got in the final show)

Speaking of which, Gideon’s last name in this version was Garrymore instead of Gleeful.

Gideon used to personally harass and prank Stan, going out of his way to vandalize Stan’s stuff himself.

Manly Dan was always planned to be Wendy’s dad. In this version, he hates the idea that his hipster daughter prefers conserving the environment instead of chopping down forests (For those who wanted more Wendy episodes, I’m surprised Hirsch didn’t use this as a conflict for one of them- it makes her interesting without costing any of her “coolness”)

Sheriff Blubs was originally Sheriff “Blumps”. Durland has the same name likely because Hirsch said he’s named after a real guy.

With no Ford and no Journal mentioned, episodes were originally very different-

“The President’s Cabinet/Irrational Treasure.” Instead of via the journal, Dipper and Mabel find a record of Quentin Trembley in a box buried in the yard. No Pacifica mentioned here.

“Secret Dungeon” Dipper becomes obsessed with a recalled arcade cabinet. Mabel must try and save him by finding the original high scorer.

“Thtupid Thursday” One of the many ‘Shining Twins’ episode concepts Hirsch wanted to do. Dipper and Mabel learn ‘twin telepathy’ from some creepy twins, and soon regret it.

“Periodic Mabel” Mabel invents her own element for the science fair and Dipper is jealous.

“Only the Clonely/Boyz Crazy” The exact same episode just without Candy and Grenda. Sev’ral Timez is called “ReelBoyzzz” in this version.

“Big Dipper” With surprisingly no tie to Little Dipper, Dipper asks a fortune teller to make him older so he can win Wendy over. But she makes him 22, so he and Mabel have to undo the spell.

“Sweater off Dead” Mabel buys an antique sweater and is possessed by the soul of the granny who last wore it. Stan is terrified by the spirit because she reminds him of his ex-wife Marilyn (Deep Edalyn Clawthorne lore???) so Dipper must “Swexorcize” his sister and save her.

“Teed Off/The Golf War” With no Pacifica, this was originally a Dipper vs Gideon episode- No Lilliputtians, either. Instead, the 13th hole is cursed and traps the cast in a time loop.

Now, changes from the Production Pitch (I’m guessing for when the show was already greenlit and this was a way to brief crew members on what the show would 100% be about)

Stan’s secret (likely the portal) and the journal are now set in stone.

Emphasis on continuity and character development. Nothing gets “reset” by next episode. All plot developments are permanent.

All character names and designs are locked in. Pacifica has now been added, as well as Waddles, Gompers, Lazy Susan, Candy and Grenda, and McGucket (No mention or hint at his past here)

Interesting to note is that there is still zero outright mention of Ford and Bill in this version, even though multiple episodes were seemingly in production at this point.

Manly Dan’s conflict with Wendy from the original pitch is still here. Making it even more mindblowing that we never got it in the show

Blubs and Durland are described as a little more playful instead of mean like in the original pitch.

All episode examples made it into the show with no changes this time. They are Tourist Trapped, Legend of the Gobblewonker, Fight Fighters, Boyz Crazy, and The Land Before Swine.

#gravity falls #gravity falls pitch #q speaks #alex hirsch

[treasureplcnet]

btw i love revenge stories i dont think anyone should ever move on peacefully. a bit obsessed with the way weissman went to the synagogue and rabbi and asks, "my choices killed a child. would god take mercy on someone like me?" and the rabbi says "it's not god's mercy you should look for. its the child's" and like you think that would spur this man into charitable activities and to maybe look out for orphans but instead he goes on a 24 hour revenge bender that ultimately ends in two revenge killings and his own death. what's better than righteous anger and wrath and love twisting someone into the worst but also a truer version of themselves <3

#like im not even reaching here. (sort of am. whatever) #rabbi goldstein essentially goes 'think of esther. you need to be a man she would take mercy on. be someone she can forgive' #and it takes all of 10 minutes for karl weissman to decide yeah ok what i need is double homicide #do i think esther would have wanted revenge in her name. dunno. maybe. #she is 11 and very much the victim of this story. maybe she would have wanted karl to just live. kids are cruel and kind in that way #but to be fair this is esther 'fuck with me and you'll hang like a dog' jankovsky #so im willing to believe she was rooting for him #also the immediate choice to make elias suffer by shooting his leg (? maybe arm) before actually killing him #i dont know. the deliberate cruelty right after he visits the synagogue. an act of defiance. giving himself up after its done. it gets me #i love . I LOVE REVENGE :) GREATEST PLOT POINT EVER!!!!!!!! #sorry everyone about the bodies thoughts. i have no idea how long this is going to last #bodies netflix #karl weissman

[spielzeugkaiser]

hi, first off i really love your art. the h/c and warmth really hit me where i live and your illustration style is fantastic. lately i've been obsessed with the post where an unwell milek thinks geralt will leave him behind. was that an ingrained insecurity, assuming his super-witcher dad wouldn't have time for a sickly human kid?

[MASTERPOST] - Ahh, thank you for the ask! Yes, this scene.. I actually saw this a bit differently! It's not about Milek fearing Geralt will leave him behind, he actually wants him to. They need to find his Pa!! I think he often feels like a burden; Jaskier knows this, but Geralt isn't aware of this yet. Milek just wants to pull his weight, especially with Jaskier. A little sneak peak to their struggles regarding this:

Meanwhile Jaskier continues to struggle with his omega status.

#jaskier #the witcher #geraskier lovechild #julian alfred pankratz #omegaverse #there are various things happening here! a. Milek never really had to fear that Jaskier would leave him he knows he never ever would #b. Jaskier said again and again that he'll always care for him and loves him and that he doesn't have to pull any weight at all #c. Jaskier actually became the parent that just wants his kid to be educated and study and learn #(maybe because he knows Milek won't be able to do hard labour but also because he knows what Milek really wants to do) #(filed under: things I haven't drawn yet but they had their big fallout because of oxenfurt and university - things to come in the future) #d. Milek has watched Jaskier working his ass off in various jobs that he didn't like #(and he thinks that prostitution is the worst but only because they didn't properly talk about it before) #e. Jaskier is struggling with how he is percieved - which I think was never that much on his mind when he was travelling with Geralt #being a carefree bard and giving everyone the middlefinger who had some wrong ideas about what he could do and what not #but this is definitely an AU in which he doesn't have a good relationship with his father and he can still hear him say he'll become #'an unbonded omega with a bastard child working on the streets' and I think sometimes it gets to him #(because Jaskier is king of hating his parents ever being right about him) #that Jaskier kind of wants to spare Milek and quietly hopes we won't become an omega - even if he feels bad about it - shall become plot #(one dayyyy) #anyway that was a very long rant about Mileks complex relationship with him feeling like a burden

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p5

tags from @howdidyouallgetinmyroom on part four bc hello!! tentative but sweet!!! describes their relationship EXACTLY

-

They end up at the quarry, parked up on the cliff and listening to the water in the dark after the lights of the van turn off. And they talk. And talk and talk and talk. Steve is a little drunk. He keeps giggling about how Eddie fell on his way out the window.

Eddie tells him about his own dad when they’re sitting in the back of the van. How he used to talk to Eddie, what he used to call him. That Eddie moved to Hawkins when he was a kid with his uncle just to get away from him. And Steve mumbles that he’s glad that Eddie is in Hawkins. That he likes seeing him in the hallways.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt peace like this, sitting in silence, in the middle of the night, in the dark, with a tipsy Steve Harrington.

He takes Steve home after a while, doing his best to follow Steve’s directions around town until he finds his house. It’s in the woods, hidden from view until he’s pulling into the driveway, and it’s fucking massive. A mansion out in the asscrack of nowhere.

Steve just sighs when they arrive. And Eddie tells him softly, Go to bed, Stevie. And Steve tells him softly, Thank you.

Steve avoids his eyes at school on Monday, but it isn’t weird. Because his cheeks are pink every time Eddie catches him looking, and because because he isn’t just looking, but he’s taking sneaking glances.

He seems almost nervous, anxious about something, but Eddie doesn’t know what until the end of the day, when he’s hurriedly swinging his locker open. He stops short, his eyes catching on a folded piece of paper on top of the mess of books and trash that fill his locker.

His face is burning immediately, and the hurry of catching up with the guys is gone from his mind as he reaches for it, leaning into the locker to hide as he unfolds it.

He has to close his eyes for a moment after seeing it, falling into his locker with a quiet giggle.

It’s a messy drawing of two figures sitting side by side. The pencil marks are zig-zagged in shadows, dark and heavy, and he can see the smudges from Steve’s hand, where it dragged the graphite across the page.

Eddie’s face hurts because he’s smiling so hard, and he feels so warm he might develop a fever. It feels like there’s a beam of sunlight in his chest.

The drawing goes up on his wall when he gets home. He tells Steve he got it by sending him a wink next time he catches him looking, and Steve’s face lights up pink before he looks away.

He does that a lot. Especially if he’s with his friends. Eddie doesn’t mind.

Because he’s the one that got to sit in the dark with Steve, that got to listen to his nearly delirious giggles, that gets little sketches in his locker. No one else got any of that.

The next time he sees Steve do That Thing, it’s after school on a Friday, and Eddie is headed to his locker after Hellfire.

Everyone else has already headed home, and the halls are quiet and dark as he’s sorting through his notebooks, struggling not to drop anything, and he startles when a door bangs open.

He rolls his eyes at the sound of raucous, dude bro laughter, trying to hurry so he can leave before they make their way down the hall, but a notebook slips from his arm, and loose papers scatter across the floor. Character sheets, stats, everything.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He scrambles to pick them up, shoving everything into his locker and falling to his knees, snatching them up without caring about wrinkling and folding them.

The laughter and banter falls silent when they round the corner, and Eddie grits his teeth.

“What’s this?” Tommy Hagen’s voice says, and it’s so patronising and mean that Eddie glares up at him. “You cleaning up from your Satanic club?”

Eddie huffs, grabbing the last paper and standing.

“Nothing Satanic about it, man.” They’re the same height. Eddie wishes he was taller. “You should stop talking about shit you don’t understand.”

Tommy cocks his head, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that?” he asks in low voice. Eddie almost laughs.

“What the hell make you think I can’t?”

Tommy’s nostrils flare, and his eyes are shining in the dim light of the hallway, and he smacks the papers out of Eddie’s hands. They scatter across the floor again, and the boys behind Tommy laugh. Except Steve.

“Tommy, come on.”

“Not so brave when you’re not on tables, huh?” Tommy says, ignoring Steve and pushing at Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie stumbles back without breaking eye contact, setting his jaw and pushing Tommy’s hands away, but Tommy just pushes him again.

“Tommy, stop,” Steve says sharply, tugging on Tommy’s hood and pulling him away. “Come on, man, cut it out.”

“Jesus,” Tommy says, shrugging him off. “What, are you friends with this freak?”

Eddie’s head tilts, still staring silently at Tommy.

“No, I—” Steve hesitates, adjusting his bag. “You’re just being a dick for no reason, he isn’t doing anything.”

“He’s taking up space,” Tommy says dryly, giving Eddie a look.

“Come on,” Steve says again. “You were already saying you’re gonna be late home, let’s just go.”

Tommy just huffs and walks past, stepping directly on a character sheet and kicking it away behind himself. The other boys laugh and bump into Eddie, jostling him as they pass, and Eddie finally lowers to the ground, slowly collecting papers.

He looks over his shoulder to find Steve looking back at him, an unreadable, desperate expression on his face. Eddie looks away.

The last page he collects is ripped. And his eyes burn.

He hasn’t cried in a long time. He doesn’t know why this is the last straw.

Tears are falling on the paper, and he wipes his face so hard it hurts, standing to shove everything in his locker before he slams it shut, the sound of it echoing down the hall.

He goes to the closest bathroom to splash some water in his face, but the water just mixes with his tears, which won’t stop.

So he lets himself cry, lets the tears slide down his face as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, tucking his face under the collar of his shirt.

He hasn’t cried this hard in months. Maybe years. His throat hurts, and his body is trembling, and his face aches, and he can’t fucking stop.

He’s distantly aware of a voice, but doesn’t lift his head until a hand lands gently on his shoulder, and he startles violently, recoiling and hitting the hand away as he lifts his head.

Steve is crouching in front of him, but he’s covering his head with his arm, his eyes squeezed shut before he open them to look at Eddie, a fear in his eyes that makes Eddie’s whole body hurt.

Eddie moves quickly, shifting to his knees so he’s kneeling in front of Steve, and he hugs him tightly, his arms around his neck, and he’s still sobbing, his words almost unintelligible.

“No— I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry, Steve—”

Steve is already hugging him back, pulling Eddie against himself.

“No, it’s okay,” Steve says quietly. His hands run over Eddie’s back, and he’s hushing him softly, whispering to him, and Eddie is just crying.

He presses his face into Steve’s shoulder, letting out hiccuping sobs, and Steve’s cheek presses to the top of his head as his arms tighten. He slides until he’s sitting, gathering Eddie between his legs.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie sobs, clutching at Steve’s arm. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Steve says softly, rocking them slightly. “I know, Eddie, it’s okay.”

He’s rubbing his back gently, combing through his hair, taking shaky breaths that tell Eddie that he’s crying too.

“God, I’m sorry,” Eddie chokes, reaching to wipe his own face, trying to sit up, but Steve doesn’t let him, wiping it away himself.

“‘S okay to cry,” he says gently.

And Eddie realises something awful.

Something irreversible, something so fucking terrible that it just makes him cry harder.

He’s falling in love.

He closes his eyes and falls against Steve, crying harder.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers after a while, almost cradling Eddie’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you apologising?” Eddie asks weakly, lifting his head, and Steve wipes his cheek again.

“Because I… said that …”

Oh.

Eddie shakes his head, grabbing the front of Steve’s shirt.

“No, I don’t care about that.”

“You know I was lying, right?” Steve asks desperately, leaning forward. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“I know,” Eddie says, nodding. “I’m not— I’m not crying about that.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie’s chest hurts. “Then why…”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing thickly, and a tear falls down his cheek. Steve’s hand is warm when he wipes it away. Eddie wants to die.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. His eyes drift down Steve’s face, tracing his moles. “I think I just… Today’s been long, I think I just— like, crashed.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says softly.

“‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Steve’s voice is soft, echoey, bouncing off the white tiled walls. Eddie exhales shakily, wiping his face again.

“What would make you feel better?” Steve asks softly. Eddie shrugs weakly.

“I don’t know.”

Steve is quiet, one of his hands still running through Eddie’s hair gently, and Eddie realises that he’s still grasping Steve’s shirt in his hand. His cheeks burn and he pulls his hand away, releasing the fabric, but Steve catches his hand, squeezing it.

Eddie’s eyes catch on their hands, watching Steve’s fingers brush over his skin. His hands are so different from Eddie’s, longer and more graceful, smooth and soft and unscarred. More tan, especially against Eddie’s pale skin and the silver rings he’s wearing. Eddie can’t looks away. His breathing is slower, and the tears have stopped, but his skin is tacky with them, and he can see his clumped eyelashes in his peripheral vision.

He can feel Steve looking at him. Steve, who’s sitting in silence on the floor of a school bathroom, holding his hand.

“Do you wanna go for a drive?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

Eddie drives. They leave Steve’s car in the school parking lot and sit in silence until they reach the quarry again. Eddie drives there almost on instinct, like it’s where they’re supposed to be, and they sit in the back together, close enough that their legs are touching.

It feels easier for Eddie to exist when he’s not in the school.

“You wanna talk about your day?” Steve asks quietly. It’s dark in the van, dark outside, and Eddie can hear the sound of the water below them. It’s nice.

“‘S just…” He pauses. “I don’t know, it wasn’t that it was bad, it just… Was long.”

“You, uhm.” Steve hesitates. “God, that sounds mean, never mind.”

“Just say it,” Eddie says with a little laugh.

“You… You look tired lately. When I see you.”

Eddie sighs, letting his head fall back to the wall.

“I really hate school,” he says. “Don’t like being there.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Eddie nods, and he takes a deep breath. It shakes.

There’s a quiet moment, and then Steve is moving closer, his arms stretching to take Eddie between them, and Eddie lets himself fall against Steve again. His chest hurts.

He lays against Steve’s chest, tucking his hands between them comfortably, and Steve’s face presses to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry my friends are assholes,” Steve says quietly.

“‘S not your fault.”

“Still.”

“Don’t apologise to me, Steve. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…Okay.”

“You even got Tommy to stop,” Eddie adds, suddenly remembering. “Which…” Steve’s hand runs over his head, over his mangled curls. “Thank you.”

Steve just holds him tighter.

Eddie’s eyes squeeze, and he’s almost nuzzling into Steve’s chest. He smells like cologne, and like something that belongs just to Steve. Eddie wonders if his house has the same smell. If his bed does. (It probably does. Though Eddie would love to do his own investigation into the question.)

“One of my character sheets ripped,” Eddie says quietly, breaking the silence. “That was— That was what kind of… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did I just say?”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Steve.”

“Fuck, sorry.”

They’re both giggling quietly. Eddie can feel Steve’s chest shaking with it.

“Steve.”

“Sorry— Fuck—“

Eddie sits up and claps a hand over Steve’s mouth, watching as Steve’s eyes sparkle and crinkle under his grin.

“Just stop talking,” Eddie says.

Steve nods.

Eddie removes his hand and lays back down against his chest.

“Who was the character?” Steve asks after a few moments.

“Hm?”

“The— The character sheet. Tell me about the character.” He drags his fingertips through Eddie’s hair. “I don’t know anything D&D, I’m very out of my element. But I’m… willing to learn.”

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes.

“What?”

“You’re a sweetheart, Steve Harrington.”

Steve giggles again.

Eddie tells him. He talks and talks and talks, tracing lines over Steve’s arm mindlessly, melting against Steve even more when his fingers tangle in Eddie’s hair and tug lightly as he’s playing with it.

It feels nice.

Steve asks him questions, prompts him to give him more information, and he’s actually interested in what Eddie’s saying, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. He might die.

After a while Eddie falls quiet, and his eyes falling shut, and the feelings of Steve’s heartbeat on his face and Steve’s fingers in his hair are lulling him to sleep.

“Shit,” he says softly, starting to sit up, blinking his eyes.

“What?” Steve says in a small voice, his hand falling away from Eddie’s hair.

“I’m falling asleep, I’m…”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. His hand tugs at Eddie’s shirt gently. “‘S fine, come back.”

He sounds so small, so desperate, that Eddie doesn’t even think twice before he falling onto Steve again, and Steve is hugging him tightly. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, gripping Steve’s shirt.

“When am I driving you back to your car?” he asks, his voice muffled by Steve’s chest.

“Don’t know,” Steve says, sighing softly. “Don’t care.”

“…Okay.”

Their legs twine together, and Eddie turns slightly, his head resting under Steve’s chin. He can feel Steve’s chest rise and fall with every breath, can feel Steve’s arms firm around him like he’s holding him in place, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like before. This safe and protected and comfortable, in the arms of a boy he’s actually talked with approximately three times.

He slides a hand down Steve’s arm, over the folds of his shirt, over his forearm, over his wrist, over his hand. He traces his knuckles. They’re so soft.

He traces light lines over Steve’s fingers, and Steve is lifting them to meet Eddie’s until their fingers are curling together.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, furrowing his brows. Steve’s arm tightens around Eddie and he squeezes his hand, and Eddie turns his face to press to Steve’s chest.

Eddie wonders if Steve knows what he’s doing. If he has any idea how fucking gay this is, snuggling Eddie in the back of his van.

But Steve doesn’t seem to mind. His other hand runs over Eddie’s hair again. And Eddie drifts off.

part six

read the whole thing on ao3

#taking ideas/suggestions in my asks or dms <3 #also considering a title so i can put this on ao3 bc thisbis not even a ficlet series anymore #although i still don’t rly have an actual plot for this i’m just making shit up #but that’s What I Do #anyway love u #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #love me softly

[presiding]

How you'd rewrite Dishonored death of the outsider if it was fully fledged game with 10 missions? (like Dishonored or Dishonored 2)

Oooh!! Enrichment in my enclosure - thank you for asking! Thinking about a total rewrite was a great exercise. Fair disclaimer: I haven’t read the books & their canon-status can’t hurt me. To me, the Dishonored games stand out due to their immsim design philosophy, and thinking about some of the industry reasons for DotO’s departure from that, if I could make a standalone game with ~ten levels I would, but with the same budget I’d also happily make two DLCs made slowly over a longer timeframe with greater attention to detail.

Game structure

Finding Daud // Billie’s past

The fate of the Outsider // Billie’s future

Game story

Setting & Characters

Billie: What has Billie been doing since she’s returned to Serkonos? Knowing the Dreadful Wale will sink, she’s sold it for scrap & has set up an agency in Lower Aventa. She’s something of a detective/odd-jobs man (& assassin when it suits her). Business is booming, life is good. I think a long-running implication that she's becoming Daud in some ways would make for an interesting subplot.

Karnaca: a city that unfolds. In the first levels, Billie feels like a forgotten woman, a ghost slipped through the cracks, but as levels progress there are hints & references to how her past actions have affected others & shaped the city

Alignments: Witches, gangs, religion, industry; missions for clients who can’t necessarily pay their way. Missions that allow the player to explore/understand Karnaca in a deeper way.

Daud: Billie is unsure if Daud again will bring her any closure. She’s been thinking of him since her time with Emily, and his name keeps popping up.

Deirdre: the charm is a more functional heart, similar to Jessamine, as well as her own character design. Perhaps she doesn’t see Deirdre until she chooses the powers, or until she’s in the void (see next point)

First arc: Finding Daud // Billie’s past

Powers: the Outsider offers Billie powers even though her life is finally, actually good, so she’s pissed off. A choice - she can take them, or play no powers mode.

Breanna Ashworth is this arc’s villain - she wants Delilah back, and knows that Daud has banished her before, wants to know how he did it. Grief & desperation has changed her, and she no longer has her high society veneer. The remnants of the Karnaca coven, now powerless, have stolen from the Overseers to arm themselves to the teeth, and to neutralise Daud’s powers, in addition to black bonecharms.

Billie’s in a race against time against Breanna to find Daud, but by the last level it becomes clear that Breanna *has* found Daud, and has been torturing him for information about the void. Her dynamic with Billie is complicated by their past.

I think betrayal would be an interesting theme, so maybe one of the levels gives you the option to ally yourself with Breanna under false pretences.

Second arc: choosing the fate of the Outsider // Billie’s future

Delilah is the core villain, but she’s obsessed with killing the Outsider so she can take his place, having been violently ripped from her perfect world in her own painting by Breanna (who meant well), & knowing the Empire doesn’t hold her interest... but a perfectly mouldable void & infinite power does take her fancy.

As remorseful Daud is obsessing about preventing Delilah from taking power, Billie’s doing some detective work and learns more about the Outsider (he’s not showing up and monologuing - she’s finding this out herself. A level idea could be a raid on a ‘haunted’ houses where the void is thin)

Delilah succeeds in taking the Outsider's place, leaving the Outsider dead or mortal depending on if you are able to save him. Delilah has split her soul from herself before and she’s very much clever enough to learn the Outsider’s name to render him mortal.

Daud knows he’s dying, though, and it might be an ultimate sacrifice to save both Billie’s life, and the Outsider’s.

So during the final battle, there’s an option to make Daud the Outsider, because Daud wants Billie and the Outsider to have a shot at a normal life, and his life was forfeit in his own mind…

… or, reluctantly accepting the Outsider’s help, Billie finds a way to cut the void’s access to the world, rendering Delilah an all powerful god over a dead & silent world.

Because of the past/present focus of this you could even have levels set in the past - missions with Billie & Daud. Perhaps Billie as POV character, and Daud dropping by the way that Billie did in Knife of Dunwall. That’d be neat.

A heap of ideas here, hope there was something you liked :)

#dishonored #death of the outsider #daud #delilah copperspoon #billie lurk #the outsider #i dont know why you asked me this but i love that you did. thank you anon! #i wanted to stick to the topline ideas rather than dig into what the levels could look like #and you'll notice i mostly avoided the things introduced in doto. ie plot points & new characters #because none of them really pass the fandom test to me. i just dont see anyone obsessed with things from that game #and i could write an entire separate essay about cults in videogames & morality #i want billie's choices & life to have felt like it has meaning and made a difference #and i wanted the game to feel like it was more about billie even if its also about power & the fate of the world #and though i dont love where they went with the outsider & daud in the game. i do love having really high stakes

[quietwingsinthesky]

i do love canon amy & rory but god, does some part of me wish they really had gone with the idea of the doctor picking up a child as a companion (and then later, that child’s best friend with a huge crush on her.) with the rest of the season really not changing at all, except now it’s amelia pond with an angel in her head killing her and lost alone in the woods. it’s little rory who dies and is forgotten and becomes a toy soldier. if this is going to be a fairy tale, then let it be one. children have never been safe in fairy tales.

#it wouldn’t have to change any of the actual plot of the season. except MAYBE amy’s choice but even then i think amy’s choice would be the #one episode where they should be adults. if only for the half where they live in a village in that dream. #because that’s the kind of future that children would dream up. they live in a little cottage and nothing ever goes wrong and their best #friend visits them all the time even though they’ve grown up. #they aren’t actually adults there just children with an idea of what they should be as adults and acting accordingly #and it would still end the same way. #but idk its just. rory’s 2000 years waiting for amy inside the pandorica is already tragic. yes. #now imagine its a kid. a kid in a little roman soldier helmet who will never grow up. who will not leave his best friend. #he loves her and she’s more important than the whole universe and that sort of love is supposed to MEAN something in a fairy tale! #its supposed to melt the ice out of hearts and transform people from stone. #and what that love means here. is that he will have to wait 2000 years. a child and a box. #little rory and the amelia who followed the doctor’s letters to the pandorica. and she doesn’t recognize him again. #and amelia in the pandorica… 2000 years a child trapped in a small box waiting to be rescued. #s5 is already fucked for them but it could be worse. it could be so much worse. #and it would make the doctor choosing to take her place in the pandorica to save the universe later even better. #because who else but the doctor would put the fate of the universe on the shoulders of two children and realize much too late what a #monstrous thing he’d done. and still have to hope. have to hope. that amelia would remember him fondly enough to bring him back to reality. #the logistics of all of this would have been a pain lmao. child labor laws in acting and all that. #BUT. hypothetically. it would have slapped. #doctor who #amy pond #rory williams #<- also this entire time ive been referring to him in my head as rory pond so much that i fuckin. forgot his actual last name. #and then like if you want them to be adults in s6 or whatever you can just timeskip to them getting married and still have amelia remember #the doctor there. it would work. it would. #amelia pond au

[sonknuxadow]

jesus christttt im not surprised at all to hear that the knuckles series focuses on wade and other human characters a lot i saw this coming a mile away with how almost all the news we were getting before the trailer came out was about the human characters/actors and not about knuckles (or sonic or tails or any other animated characters) but the fact that somebody calculated how many minutes of screentime knuckles has and it came out as LESS THAN HALF OF THE ENTIRE SERIES' RUNTIME when the series is NAMED after him is ridiculous. after this show comes out wade will likely have more screentime and overall plot relevance in the entire scu than tails does. did they actually think wade is a popular enough character for people to be down with this. what the fuck

#was gonna pirate the series but at this rate i might not watch it at all LMAO or at the very least only watch the parts with team sonic #because my interest in this series is dropping every second and i already wasnt very interested in it. #and i love knuckles so you know theyre doing something wrong if knuckles getting his own series isnt interesting me #the thing about wade is i dont even hate the idea of human characters. i dont think its bad for human characters to be present #and i dont think its bad for them to be involved in the plot and have relationships with the existing sonic characters #i personally didnt mind the wedding subplot in the second movie and i know a lot of people hated it #but. it becomes a problem when the random humans are overshadowing the characters people are actually here to see #like the show is literally called knuckles and all the marketing focuses on knuckles but its mostly about wade. allegedly. #and . i wouldnt have minded knuckles having a human costar. but again. they should be getting equal or less focus not more. #and also. its fucking wade who cares about wade enough to want this. would have been more forgiving if it was maddie or jojo or something #because i actually care about those characters. and also theyre not cops #for a moment i was willing to believe that the complaints about wade having way more screentime than knuckles #were a little exaggerated since a lot of people just get mad when the human characters have any screentime at all #but then i saw the article showing that knuckles really did show up for less than half the show and i was like Ummm. What #sorry for being so negative lately #its just that every new piece of info we get about upcoming scu projects has me like that reaction image of the guy holding a cigarette #like WHAT ARE THEY DOINGGGGGGG