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eddiernunson · 9 months

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Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18 +

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing and spit balling ideas and giving feedback.

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spit balling ideas and fueling my ego <3

I have no idea where this story or be without either of you girls. Or me, for that matter.

Word count: 16.6k

Warnings: Degradation/praise, light use of sir without any discussion, light hunter/prey play, crying while fucking (eddie), and a whole steddie story at the start. Lots of talk of their future in this part.

Author's note: When I say I am blown away by the reception of this fanfic, wholeheartedly mean it. Any word of kindness you have given just fueled the fire in me. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and exploring where the story will take us.

Due to some worry in the comments from last part I will clear this up: Neither Eddie nor Reader will be cheating, they're it for one another. Steve is here as a long time friend, someone with a wife and kids at home.

That being said, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.

edit: somehow the first paragraph was missing? all fixed.

About 26/27 Years Ago:

At the failure of both their university careers, Steve and Eddie both dropped out within weeks of one another. This was unplanned, neither one of them knowing as they went back to Hawkins to a mini reunion. They agreed to meet one another for a drink, just the two of them, where Steve kindly asked how Eddie’s schooling was going, to which Eddie answered sheepishly that he had dropped out. Steve let out a bark of laughter, laughing through his response that he had also dropped out.

The mutual sigh of relief waved over them both, the two of them grateful they wouldn’t be receiving that same damn look of pity again. Their conversation then flowed into ease; the embarrassment was no longer there for either of them. Since they both dropped out, they each had found a dead-end job to make their ends meet while they figured out their next move.

Simply, they were at the exact same spot in life. This would be reoccurring for them over the next few years, finding their wives within the same six-month span, and both Arlo and Dylan being born within a year of one another. It’s no wonder why they became so close.

Steve had a crazy idea in their third hour in the bar booth, a little bit buzzed. “Dude. We should go to Vegas.”

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows, completely thrown off by the suggestion. “What?”

“C’mon, Vegas! Our jobs both suck, and we’re the only ones who actually understand each-other’s shituations.”

Eddie sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“When?”

“Now!”

Eddie nearly spit out his beer, looking at Steve like he was crazy. “Now?”

“Dude. I still have my parents’ credit cards. They’re too lazy to actually cut me off.” Steve’s words were a bit slurred, holding up the many black cards.

Eddie downed his beer; the financials were his number one reason not to go. If this was gonna be on the Harrington’s dime, you best believe he would take full advantage of his friend’s shitty parents’ money.

Halfway through their first bus, Steve and Eddie started to sober up and wondered if it was a good idea. Too late, they were already four hours away. It took a total of 31 hours of driving on the road and about six different buses, but they finally made it to Nevada with nothing but the shirts on their backs and delirious glee.

The first two days they spent gambling and shooting the shit, both nights staring up at the bodies of women with numerous dollar bills in string thongs. (Eddie will omit this part when he tells it to you, for your own sanity’s sake.) On the third night, as Steve was a bit more drunk than the previous two, Eddie found a strong ass strain of weed on the strip and was a bit stoned. One of them managed to convince the other that finding girls to hook up with was the good idea.

They both went on with their night, keeping an eye out for any girl they could prospect. Even with a few conversations with some girls, they both came up short. Hooking up with women who were also running away from their problems was a bad idea.

Steve found a girl, but soon realized she was a dud when she made fun of Eddie’s bandana wrapped around his head. Eddie came up to Steve as she rolled her eyes and stomped off. Jesus. As he rested on the bar, he noticed something he wondered if he had imagined the whole three days they were there. Eddie’s eyes lingered on him, checking him out not-so-subtly. Steve leered on Eddie’s soft pink lips for too long for Steve to confidently tell himself he was not interested. His eyes raked down Eddie, taking in everything, subconsciously licking his lips. Having these thoughts, he realized Eddie was talking to him the entire time and he didn’t take in a single word.

“Well, that was a bust. C’mon. Let’s go get our sleep, we’re spending the next two days bussing home.” Steve yanked Eddie by the sleeve of the gift shop shirt he got up to the hotel elevator.

Eddie wandered into the bathroom when they got to their room and when he came out, he saw Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, legs out and leant back on straight arms. Eddie chuckled nervously. As dorky as it was, Steve looked fantastic in the makeshift gift shop outfit he had gotten himself.

“Steve?” He asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

An uncontrollable huff of laughter left Steve’s mouth, he stood up to face Eddie, accidentally meeting him only inches away from his face. It was a flicker. Only a flicker. A flicker of Eddie’s eyes looking directly to Steve’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Eddie. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, the panic in his face was clear. “I-I…” He stuttered, his breathing picked up exponentially in the last two minutes and the air in the hotel room was thick.

Steve gently placed one hand on Eddie’s cheek bone, slowly caressing it as to calm the nerves he could tell were radiating off Eddie. He smiled, glancing down very obviously to Eddie’s mouth to ask for permission. Eddie nodded the tiniest goddamn nod in the world and nearly blacked out when Steve’s lips came rushing for his own.

When their lips met, Eddie moaned into it, moving to someone’s bed, he couldn’t tell nor did he care which, and let Steve fall on top of him.

The kisses were messy, clothes were thrown all over the hotel room, and the sex was rough and giggly, but desperate.

And only one time, they decided as they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, laughing at the sheer absurdity that filled the air as they were both wrapped in white sheets.

“Uh, Eddie? It’s for you… his name is Steve Harrington?” Eddie pauses, in the middle of hanging a sweater in what seems to be the designated spot for knitwear. A quick assessment tells you that you now have more sweaters than you need, observing them all hung delicately by his hands.

“No way.” Eddie mutters, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. He jogs right past you to the hallway and down the stairs, the quick thumping of his feet loud in the silence of the house.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up to you, following Eddie’s lead back down the stairs. As the front entrance comes into view halfway down the stairs, you see the two men wrapped up in a genuine embrace, arms flexed as they hug one another. They separate, but not by much, maintaining only a few feet between them.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming!” Eddie accuses playfully, patting Steve on his shoulder.

Steve’s hands are on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I ended up coming 2 weeks early.”

“No shit, hey?” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms.

They fall into a conversation so easily that their comfort with one another radiates off them. You would be offended Eddie hasn’t introduced you to him yet if it weren’t for their entertaining back and forth with one another.

“How long have you two known each other?” You mistakenly interrupt them, cutting off the conversation.

“Uh, since high school.” Eddie answers, elbowing Steve.

Steve’s eyes widen deliriously, jerking back at the neck. “Uh, try Jr. High.” He laughs. “Eddie here was the new kid.” He seems to laugh at the memory of young Eddie. Man, you’ll need photographic proof. “The weird-o new kid.”

“Oh, sorry my mom abandoned me, Steve.” Eddie laughs, not a lick of remorse behind it. You gulp, your heartstrings pulled at his throwaway comment.

“Abandonment issues can forgive weirdness only for so long, Eddie.”

“Yeah, but I got it renewed fifteen years ago. Didn’t even have to ask, she just did it for me.”

There’s a moment of silence until they break into laughter, poking fun at one another.

“I’m so sorry, who’s this?” Steve gestures to you, walking over to where you’re standing by the stairs.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out to him, somewhat nervous to be meeting someone who’s known Eddie for so long. Decades long before you were even born.

Steve’s hand meets yours and shakes it gracefully, his kind chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “He paying you well?” You’re not sure how to answer this, your hand still holding Steve’s as you and Eddie give another a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. You must be Dylan’s girlfriend! Where is he off to, anyway?” Steve lets go of your hand.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” You smile to yourself under the mere indication that Eddie talked to someone about you.

Steve nods, remembering the life in Eddie’s voice when he called. “Yep.”

Eddie points to you, gesturing multiple times until Steve finally gets the hint. “Oh…oh. Oh!” Steve’s hands move back to his hips, his eyes switching back and forth between you and Eddie quickly. “But she’s a child.” Steve deadpans, pointing to you and furrowing his brows at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, placing his arm around you as Steve takes it in. You’re slightly offended on your own behalf at the prospect of being called a child. Eddie places a kiss on your temple to ease the tension, making you melt into it. “No, she’s not.”

You tilt your head back at Eddie, giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed. He kisses you as if to put the final nail in the coffin in any disbelief Steve might’ve had. You breathe deeply as he pulls away, and goddamn, did you have a long day today.

“Wait until Robin hears you’re dating someone half your age.” Steve muses, shaking his head. “She’s gonna have a field day.”

“Wait till she hears we’re already shacked up.” Eddie jokes, bringing you to the couch and therefore leading Steve as well.

As you sit down on the couch, you cuddle into him, head laying down on his chest. Steve asks how his shop is doing, to which Eddie gives the run down on the nicest cars he’s seen and a customer’s hunk of junk he couldn’t believe was still driving around. Steve explains the logistics of his job, and by the tone of Eddie’s voice, you could tell he had no idea any of what Steve was saying, but he was being supportive in tone, nonetheless.

“How are the kids?” Eddie asks, and you watch as Steve’s eyes light up in response.

“Oh, they’re great.”

“How old are they?” You ask, a tad curious.

“Uh, Arlo is 24, Nick is 17, Dustin is 15, and Eliza is 4.” Steve riles off, letting his head fall back on the couch. Damn, he sure didn’t look like a dad of four.

“Is Eliza 4 already?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Sure is.” Steve answers, bringing out his phone. He unlocks it, and presumably goes into his photos until passing it over to you and Eddie. “Here. This was from yesterday.”

“Awww.” You let out, seeing the image of a little girl with Steve’s curls playing on a water mat.

“Oh, aww” Eddie lets out, laughing through it. Eliza is adorable, that much is clear. But as you look up at Eddie scrolling through a few of the photos of Eliza playing in the water, the hearts in his eyes are undeniable. He laughs softly at them, as if he can’t get enough of any of the photos. As Eddie passes the photos with his praises of Eliza, a stirring gut feeling sits there, a feeling you’ve been proud that you’ve been able to hold off with Eddie already having a grown child.

Goddamn, you wanted to have this man’s babies. Or at least, baby. The idea of him looking this sweetly at a child you made together invades your heart and makes you squirm on his chest a bit. You lean off his chest, afraid of these strong feelings of wanting this much of a future with him; it was a little scary. “I’m sleepy. Been a long day, I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, here.” He gets up with you, taking your hand and walking you around the couch. “Be right back, Steve.”

Eddie goes up the stairs to your room, escorting you to your now shared bed. Last week it had dark grey sheets. Now it has your favourite yellow daisy-themed sheets that Eddie insisted upon using. You lie down, still thinking of the way his eyes lit up and the smile that took over his face from the pictures. It made something stir in you. You were exhausted from your long day, that was no lie, but needed the excuse to leave before you did something crazy.

Like riding him on the couch. (And begging for his babies)

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” He kisses your forehead, soft and sweet. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You mutter through your breath, eyes already closing.

You’re already fast asleep by the time Eddie closes the door. As he reaches the bottom of the steps, Steve looks up at him expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s concerned, and to be fair, he has a reason to be. “So, we’re dating 20-year-olds, now?”

Eddie bites his tongue from correcting your age. “I guess you could say that.”

“What is this, some sort of midlife crisis? Get a red sports car, not someone who beats my oldest by months, hell your kid by months. I mean, come on, man. Use your brain.” Steve taps his shoulder on the last sentence, surely thinking he’s putting Eddie’s head back on right. However, Eddie just sits through the lecture without defending himself so he can say his piece when the time comes. “I-I mean where did you even find her, on her way to school?”

The front door slams. Dylan’s home. “Dad, am I tripping or is Uncle Steve’s car out front—Hey!” He cuts himself off, jogging toward them as soon as he sees Steve on the couch. Steve stands up to give him a tight hug, having known Dylan since the day he was born. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came by for a visit, turns out your dad’s having a midlife crisis.”

Dylan’s brows pinch together as he glances around Steve to Eddie for clarification. Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to know a single thing Steve was talking about. “What, did he get a sports car or something? He says they look pretty but they’re not made to last.”

“No, no. I was talking about his pretty new girlfriend.” The pang of possessiveness that hits Eddie in the chest is unprecedented for Steve just calling you pretty.

Dylan hardly holds in his laughter, walking into the kitchen before a full-on laugh escapes his throat. Steve stares off at him, glancing at Eddie and clearly asking, what the hell is wrong with that boy? Dylan makes himself calm down, coming back into the living room with a shit eating grin on his face. “So did he tell you how they met?”

“N-no.” Steve hesitates based on the grin on his face.

“He hasn’t let me get that far, yet.” Eddie chimes in, looking a little cozy as he settles into the couch. You were right, it has been a long ass day.

“I’m gonna tell him.” It wasn’t a threat per se, Dylan just wanted to watch the panic in his dad’s eyes.

Eddie lifts his head off the back pillow of the couch, having been looking up at the ceiling. “He’s gonna find out eventually. I was just gonna wait until she woke up.”

“Tell me…what?” Steve asks, tired of watching Eddie and Dylan’s back and forth.

Dylan gives one last chuckle, the laughter telling Eddie it’s not something he’s very bitter about anymore. They still haven’t talked about it; he’s been waiting for Dylan to come to him. “She was my girlfriend, first.” Dylan says through a smirk. “She cheated on me. With dad.”

Steve processes it, both Dylan and Eddie can see the hamster wheel turning in his head. He looks back and forth between Dylan and Eddie, his eyes staying on either one for a moment. His eyes don’t blink the entire time, switching back and forth for a solid minute.

“Dude!” Steve finally says, landing on Eddie. “What the fuck happened, Ed?”

Dylan continues laughing, walking over to his dad. “Yeah dad, what happened?”

Eddie lets his head fall back on the pillows again, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Well, I tried to keep my distance…she did not.” Shit, that’s putting all the blame on you. “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to break up with Dylan, first. Felt like I was seventeen years old, hormones just raging to a point where I couldn’t think straight with her right there.” He gets up from the couch, walking up to his closest friend of 30+ years. “She’s not just some 25-year-old, Steve. This girl, Steve, she’s everything, and somehow, she’s convinced that she’s the lucky one.”

When his dad spews cheesy shit like this it certainly softens the blow. Feels funny that he ever dated you in the first place at times.

Steve seems to miss the fact that Dylan has gotten almost completely over it by now. “That’s all good and nice, but I think you’re missing the fact that you stole your son’s girlfriend?”

Dylan lets out another laugh, wishing Steve was here when everything went down. That would’ve been a show. “Listen, Uncle Steve. I appreciate you standing up for me, truly, I do. If you were here three weeks ago when they fucked in my truck, then that would’ve been…just great.”

“You fucked in his tru—”

Dylan cuts him off, “But honestly, I didn’t date her for very long. If anything, I had only begun to develop some deeper feelings for her, but these two had it right away. They’re good together. I wish they could’ve just told me their feelings and then slept together, but with Maya…if she was dating one of my boys I would’ve done the same thing.”

Steve’s hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, seeing the truth in his statement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about Maya, then.” He turns back to Eddie, a pinch appearing back between his brows. “But seriously, you fucked in his truck? What kind of sicko are you?”

“His was unlocked. He knows better.” Eddie shrugs, Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“Good god, man.”

“I was actually just here to grab something, but I’ll see you for supper?” Dylan shoots, mid stride towards the stairs.

“We’re eating out, be back by 8:30.” Steve calls up, and Dylan waves his hand in acknowledgement.

“We are?” Eddie asks, sitting back on the couch.

“Oh yeah, Munson.” He sits on the cushion beside him, leaning onto his knees. “But tell me about her. Sorry I just assumed…but Robin will absolutely be calling you to rip your head off.”

“Or…she can find out in person one day.”

“Like at your wedding?” Steve teases, but lets out a burst of laughter when the blush appears on his cheeks. “Seriously, you hear wedding bells?”

“I’m not getting any younger, dude. But my hormones are, man, she has me doing multiple rounds, sometimes more than one a day!” Steve’s eyes widen, intrigued by this. “I haven’t fucked like this since my 20s.” Eddie pauses, thinking about his sex life back then. “I’m not even sure I fucked like this in my 20’s, to be honest.”

Steve lets out a laugh, shoving Eddie for good measure. Of course, being men, they both skip over the fact that yes, Eddie has had wedding bells in his head enough to start looking at rings…and go for the sex talk.

“Okay, sex aside. Tell me about her.”

It takes only five minutes of Steve listening to Eddie ramble on about you to realize it absolutely was the real deal. No mid-life crises here. Eddie seemed calm and laxed, whereas his ex always made him wired. For the record, Steve never quite liked her. She had Eddie looking like a wet chihuahua, yapping at every drop of a hat. Steve was a little relieved when she left, ‘cause no one could convince Eddie she was not good for him.

Turns out he just needed to wait a few years. 15, in fact.

You wake up to the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your cheek, carefully petting you as he places gentle kisses on your lips. “Baby.” He mumbles, causing you to stir. “Baby, wake up.”

As you start to wake up, you become increasingly aware that he was lying right behind you. “Mmm.”

“C’mon, we’re going out for supper with Steve, you have to get up.”

Still reeling from the dream that you were just ripped out of, you arch your back slightly, grinding your ass against Eddie’s instantly-hardening cock. You hear a sharp inhale, Eddie’s grip on your hip intensifying. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we literally don’t have time.” Eddie comments, his forehead falling onto the back of your head in an act of self discipline.

You frown, giving a good hip swivel. “We always have time.”

“Not today, you don’t! Get up!” You pop awake, aware of Steve’s presence in the hallway as he overshadows Eddie, waking you up more fully.

“He knows me enough to know I’d try to sneak something in.” Eddie murmurs, as not to be heard.

You turn around in your bed, now lying face to face with him, a devious smile creeping on your face. “So, sneak something in.”

Eddie’s brows lift at your suggestive tone. “Fuck.” He mutters, crawling out of bed before you could give his neck one of those licks that just melts him into a puddle. “C’mon baby. Get all dressed up, meet you downstairs by 8:30.”

Your teeth grit together, grabbing your phone that was tossed haphazardly aside when you fell asleep. The screen illuminates itself and your eyes widen when you realize you only have…fifteen minutes to get ready. Well, why didn’t he just say that?

You rush into your closet, and for the first time, the amount of clothes you now own settles in. How the fuck are you ever getting ready ever again? You go to the dresses, skimming through the more family friendly options. You trail over each hanger one at a time until you reach the right one. Some light makeup is done, a five-minute routine.

You finally reach the bottom step at 8:29 pm, all the guys sitting on the couch watching the tv. “Ready!”

Eddie glances at you and breaks into a smirk. “You look great, sweetheart.”

Your face heats up as you find a pair of shoes that won’t make you hate yourself. You smile, recalling your afternoon in the crowded dressing room. “Thanks, Ed.”

Meanwhile, Steve takes only two seconds as he witnesses this interaction to realize. “No. Go change.”

“W-what?” You stutter, not used to Steve’s blunt stature.

“I-just-just go change. I don’t need to be watching this all night!”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoe off to put on a dress that Eddie didn’t salivate over that very afternoon.

“Wait, what? What was wrong with the dress?” Dylan asks Steve, not having a clue as to what just transpired.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Hey, Dyl, you remember that green little dress that she had?” Eddie asks, recalling it on his carpeted floor earlier that day before he burned it.

Dylan smiles, then recalls what was so special about the dress. “Oh.” He mumbles, now feeling uncomfortable.

“I think she’s overwhelmed with choices, which is why she picked the dress in the first place. I’ll go help. Meet you there.”

Steve put up a fight on just meeting you there, but one on one time with his boy is something he wouldn’t pass up. Especially when he talks about a girl the way he did about Maya.

Eddie didn’t give Steve much of an option, still trying to get rid of the hard on that he had. He bursts through the bedroom and closet door, and as he does so, the front door slams shut. Eddie walks in to you staring aimlessly in your underwear at the dresses, not knowing which one to put on. Eddie comes from behind you, placing his stubbly chin onto your shoulder. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, casually drifting your underwear down your legs.

You sigh, the trail of his fingertips sending shivers up your spine. “You got me too many dresses.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, you hear and feel behind you as he lets his own pants drop. “Bend a little bit.” He whispers as you feel his hard cock against your ass.

You do, lifting your ass up at an angle where he can slide right into your folds. He does, arms drifting below your torso and up to play with your tits as he fucks you from behind.

“I got the perfect amount for my sweet baby.” He mutters into your ear, both his hands doing things to your tits that make you whimper. “Love to spoil my beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, daddy.” You whine, your heat already so goddamn hot. “Help. Can’t decide on a dress.”

“Here.” Ed pauses, causing you to whine, but puts a dress in front of you. “Wear this one for daddy.”

“O-ok.” You stutter, barely paying attention to it. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you,” he kisses your neck, wet and sweet, “so much, pretty baby.” You turn your head to face him, leaning in for a delicate kiss, your pussy clenching around him as you do.

You lean onto the white walls separating each compartment of the closet, closing your eyes as he fucks into you. “Daddy,” you whine, and he pulls your hair gently in response, bringing your head back to his.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re so good to me, I’m so-so close.” You pant, giving him lustful eyes.

“Cum with me,” Eddie mutters, having been close himself a few times. He leans down, rubbing at your clit. You cum around him hard, yelling his name.

He catches your lips in a kiss when he cums, so you have no idea what he said.

He lets you catch your breath, wrapping his arms around you protectively until you let him know you’re okay. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh that was just a spur of the moment, I just got lucky.” He jokes, bringing up the dress to you to get redressed.

“You think Steve—”

“Oh, I guarantee Steve already knows.” Eddie interrupts your worry, that Steve knew you were hooking up. “Just had to be sneaky.”

You put yourself in the dress, staring at it in the mirror. Okay, Eddie is seriously good at picking things that fit you well. Damn. “Let’s go baby.”

“Fuck, with you in that dress I’ll be gunning for round two all night.”

“Then we better go so we can come back and do it!” You assert playfully.

“Fuck, I love you.”

As you and Eddie sit down at the table where your ice cubes are already melted with the water droplets making a pool on the table, Steve doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives says enough. If he’s your boyfriend’s best friend, how come he already has the ability to make you feel like you had disappointed him?

The restaurant is a steakhouse, something worth dressing up for, but not like the one Eddie took you to. Steve managed to talk about all his kids, describing each one of the four and their distinct personalities to you.

Arlo is apparently a near carbon copy of his father, only differing on a few personality quirks here and there. He was in every sense of the word the eldest Harrington, making a reputation for the Harrington children to live up to at the daycare, elementary school and finally, but most importantly, high school. Considering Steve raised his kids in Hawkins, Arlo knew the expectations for him and met them, tenfold. Steve never says it, but you can tell he’s so proud of how cool his kid turned out to be. Apparently, though they were closest in age, Dylan was closer to Nicky than to Arlo.

Nicky was the middle child for most of his life. He still considers himself to be, despite getting a younger sister four years ago. He had found himself gravitating towards the arts, and Steve found himself with a kid who spent his early mornings watching broadway bootlegs and collecting song books. This turned him into somewhat of a ladies’ man like Arlo, his baritone vibrato beautifully toned as he starred in most of his school musicals. Someday, Arlo wants to enroll in a drama school, and Steve still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Dustin is the third child, and for a while, the baby. It’s explained to you that Dustin is named after a mutual friend, someone younger than both Eddie and Steve, someone they took under their wing and mutually adopted. When Dustin’s name was announced, Steve and his wife made sure he was in the room, so for the first hour of Dustin Harrington’s life, he was unnamed. Tears streamed down Dustin’s, (the original), face when he realized that Steve had named his child after him. Immediately, Dustin was his. Because of Dustin Henderson, Dustin Harrington is a complete dork. He’s completely invested in Star Wars, has built his own Magic the Gathering deck, used to spend weekends on Skype for DnD sessions with Uncle Eddie, and has even been to a convention or two.

Basically, none of his boys were the same.

You resented little Eliza coming up in conversation, only for the sake of her photos enticing some sick and cruel twist of fate.

Eliza, however, is the apple of everyone’s eye, and the darling of the Harrington family. She’s a handful, to say the least, a stubborn personality and even worse temperament. Steve swears he thought her toddler years were a handful; until she reached the independent thinking stage. Now, she wants everything, but she never wants help. Her three brothers are fiercely protective of her, each in their own ways, on top of having her dad, her uncle Eddie, and a few names that aren’t familiar to you (note: ask Eddie who ‘Hopper’ is), she’s got the world wrapped around her pinky.

Steve is at the end of a tale of chasing little Eliza around the mall, having slipped his grip in a quick getaway, creating havoc as she clutched a teddy bear that wasn’t paid for. He laughs fondly, describing how she evaded three security guards attempting to aid Steve in his mission, finally catching her when she was hungry enough to decide to end the chase.

You all sit with your food in front of you, chuckling at Steve’s well-told story. “Man,” Eddie starts, mouth still full. He waits until he swallows to continue, “I don’t know if I could have a toddler now. Especially if they’re as wild as Dylan was.”

“Hey!” Dylan calls, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here!”

“No offense, kid, but you were a menace. I looked away for two seconds once and found you on the roof with an umbrella to see if it would work as a parachute.”

“You remember what you told me?” Dylan challenges him, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “Hmm? You tell her what you told me.”

You perk up, leaning into Eddie. “Well, I came out and asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to see if it worked.”

“And…you said?” Dylan asks, eager to get to the punchline.

“I told him to try it then and see how it works out for him!”

“So, I did!” Dylan exclaims, exasperated.

“What?” You exclaim, and the three men around you nod their heads solemnly, all having heard this story several times before.

“I didn’t know he was actually going to do it!” Eddie laughs, defending himself at your bug eyes aimed at him.

“You’re my dad, I trusted you had my best interests at heart!”

“How you didn’t know sarcasm before that is beyond me…” Eddie mutters, shaking his head fondly at his son. “That story was used against me several times in court, too.”

“They tried to make him out to be a terrible parent. I was pissed.” Dylan explains, and your heart melts over it. “I maintained that even though I had a cast for a few weeks, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn my lesson. Don’t jump off the roof. You will get hurt. That’s what my dad was telling me before he dared me.”

You intertwine your fingers with Eddie’s, smoothing his thumb with your own. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind as you recall his claims of being too old for a toddler, a slight disappointment. You shove it far, far back into your brain, not wanting to dissect that. “So, you staying the night, or?” You ask Steve.

“No thanks, Dylan has made it clear that you two are insatiable.” He says, toying with his food. “He has told me every story where he has caught you, even the ones you don’t know about.” He pauses, giving Eddie a resigned glance across the table. “Freaks. The both of you.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you reach for it momentarily to check out the text from Bethany. As your attention is stolen, Eddie mouths over you, Jealous? Steve spurts out a laugh, as if the idea is so absurd. Your head shoots up, Bethany’s text is fresh on your mind. “Baby, can…can I take a picture of your hand?”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie agrees, placing his hand out from your grip and onto the table. “What for?”

“For my Insta,” you answer, somewhat preoccupied by getting a good angle while making his hand intertwined with yours look natural.

“Oh, soft launch?” Dylan comments, and you snap your fingers in confirmation.

Eddie chuckles, all the words coming out of you and Dylan sounding like a different language. “What?”

“Okay, so it’s not just me!” Steve laughs, holding his chest dramatically. “Seriously, what are you two on about?”

Dylan answers before you can– you’re still trying to get a good angle of his hand holding yours on the table. “It’s posting an update to your relationship status without giving a name to the person. It’s telling the world you’re taken, but not by who. Usually in case they break up, but I don’t think it’s why she’s doing it.”

“No, Eddie has no social media and I know…” you pause, leaning back to take one more, “that he wants to keep it that way, so, I’m showing him off in my own way.” You glare at your phone, swearing softly when it still doesn’t look right.

“For fucks’ sake, let me,” Dylan snatches your phone and gets up from the booth, squats and places the phone as if you were the one taking it yourself, snaps a photo, and tosses the phone back to you. “There.”

The phone falls past your hand and into your lap. You gently pick it up, assessing the photo in your recents. Damn. It was the exact vibe you were looking for. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan shoots an eye roll back, his heart not really in it.

“Let’s see?” Eddie asks, leaning into you, resting his chin against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. You’ve already captioned and posted the photo onto your Instagram, so you let him view the screen. He lets out a chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face. “I like the photo, but what does the caption mean? Greater than what?”

Caption reads, ‘Him>’.

“Oh, it just means you’re ‘greater than’ everything else. There is no one thing to put because it would be useless.” You explain, turning your phone off and placing it face down on the table.

Eddie shifts the two of you so he can see your face, eyes switching between yours as he assesses you. You look up at him, curious to what could possibly be on that brain of his. “You think I’m greater than everything else?”

Of course you’ve seen it plastered on social media sites, somewhat of a common way to refer to your personal opinion of something. It’s so normalized, and you figured it was a simple way to announce that you were taken by the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You nod, “Of course!”

His hand frames your face and suddenly his lips are on yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as the kiss and the pure love you feel in his reaction makes you feel like you’d be knocked off your feet if you weren’t already sitting down. Your limbs catch up and one hand lands on his thigh, ignoring the subtle heat you feel pooling in your cunt.

Steve and Dylan are forgotten as you get caught up in a frenzy, lips locking with a level of need for one another that would give any other person envy over the display of passion. Dylan has gotten used to it, you two were in the habit of kissing one another like this often. Steve takes a large sip of his bourbon, leaning back in his booth and leaning right to him. “So, this—”

“Yeah, that’s normal.” Dylan tells him.

“Jesus, I thought you were exaggerating.” Steve pauses, moving his plate away from him, all done. “Thought he was exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating what?” Dylan asks, afraid of the answer.

Steve smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “Just drink your apple juice.” He nods to Dylan’s beer; Dylan shoves his shoulder fondly in response. Steve takes one last big swig of his drink, gesturing to the waitress across the room for her assistance. “Hey. You two. Take a breather.”

Your kisses haven’t gotten any more intense, though his hand placed gently on your thigh was a tease. You could make out with him for hours, knowing your limits in the restaurant booth. Eddie finally pulls back, kissing you delicately a few times on the lips as to not leave you hanging, leaving you reeling when the server stops by.

“Just the check, please.” Steve tells her, smug.

The waitress nods, grabbing plates when the four of you insist you’re all done with your food. Steve and Eddie end up telling a story from their early 20’s when they were both single, finishing each other’s sentences as they remind each other how unruly they were back then. Your eyes flick back and forth between them, something clicking.

“Hmm.” You muster, letting yourself think about it.

“Yes, baby?”

You zone back in, blinking as you realize the three of them are staring at you expectantly. You hadn’t even realized you hummed out loud. “Oh, nothing.” But he’s not budging. None of them are. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Still no dice.

You lean forward towards Dylan, who sits across from you, lowering your voice. “Do you want to be traumatized by your dad’s sex life?” He shakes his head, the smile leaving his face. You lean back, satisfied. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“For the record, I think you mean more traumatized.” Dylan mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You kick his shin underneath the table, light enough to hurt but not do anything. You giggle at his reaction, leaning into Eddie’s arm as it snakes around your own.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Bethany. You smile as you check it, content in Eddie’s arms as the waitress comes around again with the bill. Steve hands her a card as he watches Eddie speak softly to you, nothing important, just something causing you to giggle. He feels confident in his own marriage, a love that gave him four kids with a stable home to drive back to. It just made him happy to see Eddie in a relationship where it’s clearly reciprocated.

As Eddie whispers to you, you can barely take in the words Bethany has texted you, but what she has to say to you is seemingly important, your phone buzzing repeatedly in your hands. You allow your eyes to focus back on them and the all-caps of her texts become clear.

CHECK YOUR INSTA

HELLO???

BABE

HELLO

GO CHECK IT YOUR POST ALREADY HAS OVER 500 LIKES

BITCH IT’S AT ONE THOUSAND

HELLLLOOOO

“Oh, shit.” You switch apps to make sure it’s true. In your notifications, there are over 300 comments and more likes than Bethany had claimed, 1.5 thousand. By no means is it viral, but most of your posts got no more than 100 due to your circle of friends in the app being so small. “Holy shit.” There are several comments praising Eddie’s hand, even some drool emojis. The only solace you can give yourself is that you now know you are never exposing his face. “Um, Ed. Your hand has gotten attention.”

He leans over, seeing the amount of engagement on your post. “Cool.” He comments, the numbers not meaning much to him.

“I could’ve told you that much.” Steve laughs.

You peer at him questioningly, silently asking what he meant by it.

“Listen, the ladies in Hawkins are…what is it…thirsty?” He checks with Dylan. Dylan chuckles and confirms it. “Yeah, okay, thirsty. They are mad thirsty over Eddie. If I accidentally mention that the Munsons are coming into town, it becomes town gossip. It’s like Billy Hargrove all over again, except this time it’s age appropriate.”

You turn back to Eddie, serious as you can be. “You’re never going back.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it.”

As you walk towards the front door of the restaurant, the sun has set on another day. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and Steve calls out to Eddie as he leads you to his truck, drawing your attentions. “Munson!”

Eddie turns around, the use of his last name certainly grabbing his attention. They quit using last names on one another years ago. The last time Eddie fully recalls being called Munson by Steve; Steve was pulling at his hair… “You rang, Harrington?”

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a drive?” He asks, sending a smile your way.

“Uh,” Eddie looks at you, making sure you’re comfortable with it. You nod your head, sharing a look with him. “Sure. Have her back within the hour, though.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve jokes, laughing to himself when Eddie subtly grits his teeth, and a pink blush reaches his cheeks. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

You give your boyfriend a hug, embracing his kiss of safety and comfort. “Love you.” As you walk the steps toward Steve, Eddie tugs you back by your fingertips, one last kiss for good measure.

“Love you more.” He mutters, and for a second you believe him. Oh, to follow him into his truck and ride with him in a comfortable silence on the way back.

“Come on! One hour won’t kill you.” Steve grabs your hand before you can register, leading the way to his SUV.

Dylan passes you on the way to his dad, waving cheekily on the way and you flip him off.

You get into the dark blue SUV, a Range Rover, no less. It’s evident he has a four-year-old with the car seat and the mess in his back seat, but you know that if he didn’t have Eliza, the brown interior would’ve been spotless. Steve turns down the radio he had blasting, turning his iPhone connection on. “Ready for some oldies?”

“You and Eddie. Terrible, the both of you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Steve laughs, pulling out of the parking lot and turning the opposite way of Eddie’s (yours too) house. “Don’t worry, just taking the long way.” He assures you after he sees you staring wistfully off at Eddie’s tail lights.

It’s about five minutes of silence until Steve talks again. “So, I just wanted to apologize about earlier, I was…I was shocked. When you opened the door, I didn’t know who you were, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got. Can you tell me your version of how you two got together? I didn’t want Eddie interjecting.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Uh, Dylan forgot a parking pass on our way to the beach, so he stopped by the house to look for it. Eddie comes down, sweats low on his hips and hair still wet from his shower, and I could barely focus on anything else around me. I should’ve broken up with Dylan the moment I got to his truck.” You tell him, making sure Steve knows full well that you are still apologetic about the cheating.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all fine and dandy. As far as Dylan is concerned, it hurt, but it’s long gone in his mind. Trust me. Any hesitation is aimed at Eddie, and for good reason.” Steve reassures you, feeling your defense build. “Don’t worry. Just tell the story.”

“Okay. I didn’t end it because I was afraid he’d lash out and it would’ve been forever before getting ahold of Eddie again. I couldn’t risk it, so I stayed. It lasted until that weekend, when I was doing horny things in the living room with Dylan just because Eddie was home. Maybe he’d hear something, maybe he’d look…maybe he’d watch…” You drift off, remembering the sheer urgency you had for him. “I wore skimpy outfits, I bent over around the house, I was fully prepared for Eddie, and to be honest, I was too hormonal to care or understand the repercussions.” You glance out the window, lights blinding you as you pass each neon sign. “So, we hooked up. After spending more time with him, I realized how much I had already cared about him. Now, Steve, now, I love that man so goddamn much.”

Steve smiles at you as he drives, his head waving with the bumps in the road. “Where do you see this going? For your future? In the long term, are you willing to accept that his body will give out a lot earlier than yours?”

A knot forms in your stomach in the shape of a confession. You switch your glance to Steve, and you feel safe with him. Not like Eddie, no. It was like he would never tell your secrets, or like he’d protect you. “Uh, this evening, I had the terrifying displeasure of realizing one day I’d want kids with him. One day, after he marries me and tells the whole world who I belong to, I want to have his baby. I want to raise a baby into a handful of a toddler into a snarky teenager. I thought I was totally in the clear for kids with him, but you showed him the video of Eliza and now it’s…I can’t get rid of it. So, thanks for that, Steve.” Admitting to this, out loud even…it’s too much. “I want to spend my life with him.”

You wait for an answer, somewhat on edge as you fiddle with your fingers. “And you’re okay with the knowledge that you will bury him one day?” Steve pressures on, and you respect it.

“I’ve accepted the realities, yes, which is why I’m not telling him I want kids. He said he’s too tired. I can’t force that on him.”

A full belly laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head. “If you told him that you want a baby, he would absolutely give you one without a moment’s hesitation. I have never seen him like this, not even with his ex.” He pauses, thinking on how to tell you. “Listen, I don’t know if you know much about her, but Eddie’s ex was not all that…kind to him.” He chooses his words carefully. “He was into her from the get-go, but it was obvious he was more into her. Eventually, when Eddie realized she was cheating, he called me, panicking about losing Dylan.

“I sent my best lawyer to him. Less than a week later they have court dates for custody hearings. Honestly, she was angry she was caught and angry she wasn’t the one to file. I think it took her being angry and belligerent in court for Eddie to finally see who she was. The judge was patient, more than she should’ve been. When she didn’t listen to the judge’s warnings, Eddie was granted everything he wanted. He thought it was a goddamn miracle, the only two things he wanted were the shop and Dylan. The shop had people’s livelihoods; it was their only income. Dylan just wanted to be with his dad, he made that very clear.

“Once the dust settled, it sank in. He called, finally, crying on the floor of the closet. He had spent all year on it just for her to only have it for a handful of months. It was a labour of love for him, and it turned out she was sleeping with someone else the entire time.”

Your teeth grit, fucking seething for Eddie. If either Eddie or Steve knew what was good for her, they’d never tell you her name.

“I came immediately, bringing Arlo and Nick to help cheer him up. Nick was only about 2, so he would’ve done more cheering in the way that toddlers do. But even Arlo knew something was up so it’s the one and only time he’s ever played DnD and fully embraced it. When Nick went to bed, the four of us all played together.” Steve observes your body language, your jaw locked and fists clenched. You’re so angry for him. He decides to omit the fact that after the kids went to bed, Eddie was inconsolable in his heartbreak. Steve knows it might come out one day, but that was not the point of this discussion.

“I promise, I didn’t tell you to make you mad, I just need you to know that Eddie will love you selflessly and wholly, because he doesn’t have it in himself to love any other way.” He slows to a stop at a red light, turning his head to face you. “I was very worried at first, but man, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

The question still echoes in your mind, but the answer is starting to lean towards a yes. “How did you guys become friends?” You ask instead, leaning away from your boyfriend’s heartbreak and his bitchy ex.

“That… is a very long story.”

“Eddie gave you an hour, of which you’ve only used 15 minutes.” You point out, smirking.

“Alright, buckle up. It’s Hawkins, Indiana. 1996. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson is missing.”

Steve was right, the story of their friendship was a long one. He didn’t necessarily dive into the nitty gritty, just implied he was falsely accused in a situation where he had no alibi and helped him out. One day, years later you would finally feel comfortable asking and Eddie would get into the full details of the Upside Down.

Steve brought you home with ten minutes to spare, you cling to Eddie as soon as you see him. The unresolved lust from earlier on top of the empathy for how hard it must’ve been for him drove your need for him, just you and him. “Can’t wait any longer.” You whisper, fingers digging into the now open button up shirt he wore to dinner and fisting the material into a ball with your hands.

You feel a huff of silent laughter come from him, a long sigh leaving his lips as he considers his options. It’s only 11 o’clock. Usually, when Steve is in town he stays for hours into the night to talk and laugh together. Dylan started a habit of joining their conversations as he got older. He knows it’s what they’re expecting, and he knows exactly what you need. He lifts your face with his hands. “Go get dressed into something more comfortable. Be right up.”

You nod, feeling sleepy, and for once, not conscious of the audience you held with him.

As you run upstairs, Eddie turns to Steve. “You and Dylan go to your hotel room. I’ll meet you there. Later.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you say you were exhausted?”

“I could just stay home all night. I have no problems with that.” Eddie bites back, a tone of endearment at the root of it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. God, I miss when you were single,”

Dylan and Steve leave for the hotel room, the two shooting teasing glances at Eddie.

You lay on your side of the bed, scrolling on your phone but only paying the littlest attention. Eddie opens the door, his long legs take him to the bed quickly as he lies right next to you. You immediately crawl into his arms, the phone forgotten. Your chest feels tight as you mentally go over what Steve told you, the way his ex treated him. There’s no way it was true, because Eddie ever feeling like he deserved any of it was too much for you to bear.

Eddie feels the shift in you, something’s different. It isn’t one of your normal hugs. Your arms are wrapped around his, as if you’re sheltering him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, brows furrowed as he notes your quickened breathing and heart rate. You’re lying down; you should be far more relaxed.

“Steve…Steve told me more about your ex, and it made me sick to my stomach.” You admit, not wanting many secrets between the two of you. You��re already harbouring one, you don’t need another. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly treat you like that.”

Eddie’s eyes well and he looks up, trying not to let a tear fall from the tone of your voice or how genuine you sound in your anger for him. “It’s ancient history, now, baby.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You counter, hands squeezing him. “I love you more than I can even conceive. More than I can wrap my head around… I can’t stand the thought of you being heartbroken because that bitch decided someone building her a closet wasn’t good enough for her.”

Eddie can’t wrap his mind around how loved you just made him feel, and how in your own way, you just told him he would be just as protected as you are by him. You would stand up for him the same way he would for you. He doesn’t have the words or the strength to hold back the tears, so he leans in and kisses you, really kisses you.

As his lips meet yours, you taste the salt of his tears and lightly use your thumbs to brush them away. He climbs on top of you, brushing his hand under your PJ shirt, testing the waters. You guide his hand to your tit, aching for him to touch you for what felt like hours. Your kisses are slow and purposeful, the stream of the salt still coming, and you ignore it for the sake of his hand feeling so goddamn good on your nipple as he teases you. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about them, anyway. Your mouth opens against him as he flicks it, whimpering.

You wrap your legs around his hips, unwinding them from between his legs and his bulge presses into your covered heat immediately. You kiss down his jaw, gently decorating his neck with wet kisses as you kiss away the salt that streamed down his face. Your hand moves down to palm him through his slacks, a whimper leaving him. “Do…do you want to?” You check, slightly stroking him through his jeans.

He sniffles, bunching up your shirt to help it off. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t handle strong emotions, they…overwhelm me.”

“I’ll handle them for the both of us.” You offer.

Eddie is a mess already, and he tugs on you to kiss you some more. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” He mutters, gulping through his kisses.

You don’t answer him, grabbing at his shirt to take it off. As the shirt flies off, his chest comes full contact with yours and you arch your hips up to meet his, the bulge hitting your heat almost too perfectly. You grind on it, needing him now, wanting to feel all of him.

Eddie reads your mind, tearful but still in tune with everything your body needs from him. His hands move your pants down your legs, placing kisses down your torso as he does. He crawls back up to you, taking his own pants off as he continues to wantonly kiss you. Before you know it, you feel his cock against your thigh as he presses your legs into your stomach.

Eddie leans into you, connecting your foreheads. You frame his face, staring at his wet brown eyes. “Please baby.” You kiss him, your hips barely able to stay still. “I love you, I fucking need you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, nodding his head. He guides his cock into you, pushing in gently but deeply into you within seconds. Your legs tighten around his torso, your pussy sucking him in. “Christ.”

His face finds itself in your neck, giving sweet kisses up and down as he starts to move his hips. You hold onto him, hands wrapped around his torso, spread-out palms down on his back. His hips rock so slowly, taking in every inch of your pussy he possibly can. His forehead finds yours again and his eyes open and stare into yours. His mouth is parted, his cheeks are flushed, and no longer wet. Somewhere in the midst he stopped crying, but the emotions he felt were still there. “Feels good?”

You nod, breath hitching by the sheer emotion you see in his eyes. “So good, baby.”

He smiles softly, staring at you half lidded. “Don’t want it harder?” He teases, bucking his hips hard once before moving back to his soft pace.

The buck releases a loud cry of pleasure from you, not expecting it. “Fuck, Ed. Can you do that again?”

Eddie smiles wider. “Mmhm.” He bucks into you harder again a few times, and your eyes close immediately, the heat from your pussy starting to pool. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“More?” He asks, slowing his hips again. “My love, if you want me to fuck you harder, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck me harder, Ed. Please.”

Eddie chuckles softly, stopping his movements altogether to give you a kiss, taking your breath away by the love in it. “Sure thing, baby.”

Before you know it, his hips start at an unforgiving pace, the force takes you aback so badly, you moan loudly at every buck, every rut of his hips against yours. His thumb connects to your neglected clit, and the subtle heat explodes into a frenzy. Eddie feels your velvet walls pulse around him as you get closer. “I wanna feel that perfect pussy cum all over my cock.”

“Eddie, so close…love you so much…” you’re seeing stars, your legs tense around him. He leans down to you, giving your torso one long lick down your tummy and, oddly enough, it was the final thing to drive you over the edge.

Your pussy tightening around him does it for Eddie, watching your face as your orgasm rips through you, filling you up with his cum, white ropes shooting into you. He collapses on your chest, the physical exhaustion from the day mixed with the added exhaustion from emotionally breaking down finally piling on him. “Sweetheart, I love you. So fucking much. I just…can’t believe how much better you’ve made my life.”

“I love you.” Your entire body wraps around him, holding him close to you. “Do you have to go?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

You nod your head, knowing full well you’ll probably fall asleep on the couch in Steve’s hotel room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Eddie scratches his head while working on some paperwork in his work office, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he goes through some numbers. One of the things he hates about owning a business is the math part of it. Luckily, he’s good at math, it’s just when the numbers suddenly go negative, it creates an issue.

His phone sitting on the desk starts to ring and he picks it up, expecting it to be you, but instead he’s met with an unknown number. Eddie sighs and reluctantly answers. It could be a customer with a new number for all he knows.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“Eddie Munson speaking.” He answers, scanning over another invoice.

“Why the fuck are you dating a 25-year-old?” It occurs to Eddie this phone number has an area code from Boston…which is where she moved to. Fuck.

“Hi, Brooke.” He sighs, tired.

“Yeah, yeah. When and why the fuck are you dating some little hot piece of ass? You know she’s probably a gold digger, right? This morning she posted a selfie from my closet and it looks like she’s already moved in?”

“We met through a friend” Eddie wraps his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he ever saw in her craziness. “Wait, why am I telling you this, what fucking nerve do you have to call me and accuse my girlfriend being a gold digger?! How the fuck did you even find out?”

“Her little Instagram post with you two holding hands, which by the way, was cheesy and not in a good way. It got a lot of attention and Laura recognized your hands immediately and sent me the post.”

Fucking Laura. “Good for you, you found her Instagram.” He sighs, leaning back in his office chair. “I owe you nothing, Brooke. Nothing. I’m not sure what you had expected from this conversation but I’m sure this wasn’t it. Oh, and Brooke? That’s not your closet, hasn’t been for 15 years. Don’t call me again or I'll get my lawyer.”

“Oh, calm down.” Brooke huffs, her voice agitated. As if her voice had any other tone. Eddie hears her muffle the speaker to her phone. “Boys, quiet down for five minutes? I’m on the phone!” There’s another shuffle of noise on the other end, then her voice is directed back at Eddie, “That won’t be necessary. I just need to make sure you know that she will ruin your life because she’s a little skank.”

“Talk about my wife that way again and you’ll be hearing from a lot more than just my lawyer, you absolute cunt.” Eddie hangs up on her, missing the satisfaction of slamming a phone on the receiver. He picks his work phone up and slams it down. There, much better.

Wait until Steve hears about this… Holy shit.

Wait until you hear about it. Oh, fuck.

Steve manages to stretch his visit for one more day, laying on the couch with you as you watch a movie he recommended to you. He lays down with his torso on the arm rest, legs resting on your lap. When his legs landed, you glared at him, asking if he had nowhere else to place them. Steve said in response, “Of course, I do! You’ll just hold them because you’re so nice.”

So, you do. The movie is called The Gentlemen, a fast-paced comedy about a drug lord attempting to sell his business and all the shenanigans that follow. You find yourself laughing with him, expecting some movie like The Godfather or Fight Club, though it came out only four years ago.

Eddie swings open the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly with a smirk on his face. “Oh my god, Steve. Oh my god.” Eddie came straight from work, the phone call not allowing his brain to go over another invoice, especially when the numbers didn’t make sense. He struts to the couch, lifts Steve’s legs and sits right next to you, placing Steve’s legs back on his lap. He places his arm around you, looking at Steve with a smirk plastered. “Steve. Oh, my god.”

“Ed?” You ask, taking in his flustered features. Not flustered in the way you’re used to, but flustered nonetheless. “Everything okay?”

He nods his head, an incredulous laugh escaping as he does. “Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Got a phone call today.” You and Steve share a look of concern over his shoulder. “From Brooke.”

Now, this name means nothing to you. But from Steve’s reaction, in a split second you realize it’s the name of the woman you have grown to viscerally hate. “No way. What…what did she say?”

“She found Y/N’s Instagram post from last night and recognized my hand.” Eddie says, squeezing your shoulder. “She uh, then proceeded to insult me, insult her, and remind me how grateful I am she left me before I realized what a terrible person she is.”

“Anything else?” Steve asks, eyes wide. Brooke has literally been radio silent for years.

“Yeah, but nothing worth getting into.” Eddie comments, leaning into the couch, raising his eyebrows at Steve. Not something he wants to get into with you around, but definitely will with his best friend. “She sounded…jealous.”

“Jealous how?”

Eddie looks at you, twisting his body to face you. “Jealous of you. Out of line, absolutely, but jealous.”

The satisfaction that ripples through your body is simply too much. A woman took advantage of his kindness and left him for dead and now she’s jealous? Good. “Wait, she stalks my Instagram?”

“Uh, I suppose, yes.” Eddie answers, not so sure he understands the use of stalk.

“I could have some fun with this.” You mutter, thinking to yourself.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, slightly scared of the wicked smirk he sees displayed on your face.

“Hmm.” You mumble, opening your phone to your Pinterest app. “Yes?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, talking low as he watches over your shoulder.

“Nothing. Just be ready for a picture when I need you.”

Eddie laughs, ready to calm you down a bit, but finds himself a little fearful of the plan in your mind.

You scroll through your Pinterest for about ten minutes while Steve and Eddie converse about the boys again. If you have learned one thing about Steve, it’s that his kids are his pride and joy. The conversation leads to Eliza, and you feel that pang in your stomach again. It’s getting harder to ignore as you watch Eddie’s face light up at the endless stories of the kids’ mischief.

Steve gets up from the couch, needing to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, you take advantage, finally having a moment to ask the question that’s been on your mind. “Hey, Ed.” You start, his head turning to face you, almost impossibly close.

“Yes, baby?”

Shit, his lips are so tempting. You sigh, ignoring the pull to his lips. “I just have a question, and please don’t be offended if the answer is no.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by your reaction to his ex-wife calling, so he’s certainly intrigued by what you’re about to say. “I make no promises.”

That’s not comforting. “Okay. Have you and Steve…did you guys ever hook up?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, which is impossible because they’re right there.

Eddie breaks into a smile followed by incredibly contagious laughter. You were certain you must’ve been dead wrong based on his laughter alone. You’re just reading into things that aren’t there. He finally stops, grabbing your face for a smiley, giggly kiss. You pull back, looking at him in confusion, as he laughs again. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He says, eyes searching yours.

Oh, fuck. You were right! “Wait.” You say while giggling. “I…I was right?”

“Yeah.”

“When?!”

Eddie squints comically, looking up. “Uh, 27 or so years ago in Vegas.”

You squint back at the sheer cliché of it all. “Vegas? Really?”

“Well, we were both down on our luck, we thought, very drunkenly, might I add, a trip to Vegas would help. It certainly did the trick, I think.”

You laugh, the situation described much differently than what you had expected. “I bet it did.” You boop him on the nose as he scrunches it adorably.

Steve comes out from the bathroom and sees your silly display of love, jogging to the couch. “You guys are cavity inducing. Seriously.”

“Steve.” Eddie says, turning his head to face him. “She figured it out.”

Steve smirks, silently asking Eddie if he was talking about what Steve thought he was talking about. “Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No shit! What gave it away?” Steve asks, genuinely curious as he attempts to extend his legs onto Eddie’s lap again.

“No offense, you guys, but you both act like you have a secret with one another that you won’t share with the class. There’re only so many secrets that could be.” You offer an answer, and they seem to accept it…for the most part.

“What, we don’t give off two very straight dudes?” Eddie jokes, making you shove his shoulder.

“See, Dylan’s great, but I’ve been dying to ask since last night, and I wasn’t gonna ask with him around.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning in for one last gentle kiss. When he separates, he clutches onto Steve’s leg, startling him. “Sorry,” he laughs through his apology. “I have to take a shower then I have one more errand to run, and I need your help before you take off tonight.”

“Sure, dude. What do you need?”

You go back on your phone, checking your Pinterest and mostly tuning out the conversation, looking for subtle ways to show Eddie off on your Instagram that will piss Brooke off. Eddie nods his head to indicate it isn’t a conversation to be had around you, and you don’t even notice.

Steve nods in understanding, fist bumping Eddie as he runs around the couch and up the stairs. The silence that settles around you while he’s upstairs is comfortable, Steve paying attention to the movie as the plot thickens while you scroll through your phone and gather devious ideas. You barely notice the ten minutes pass by as Eddie comes back downstairs. You clock the scent of his freshly showered self, causing you to look up.

Eddie is wearing a pair of jeans and a button up loosely tucked in with a chain necklace. You pick your jaw off the floor, gulping as he walks up to you with a smirk on his face as he witnesses your very visible reaction. He lays a chaste kiss on your forehead and taps on Steve’s leg.

Steve gets up from the couch and Eddie grabs his keys. “Be back soon, baby!”

“Could you get some pop?” You ask him as he opens the front door.

“Baby, we have so much to drink that’s not gonna rot those pretty teeth. It won’t kill you to drink water.” He says, stopping in the doorway. You roll your eyes, tempted to order in from a convenience store if he was gonna be this stubborn. “If there’s pop here when I get home, you’re gonna see a consequence.”

“Yes, daddy.” You bite back. Well, if you order one drink and place it in the bottom of the recycling, he won’t see it, right?

“Hey. Drink some water. I mean it. Take care of yourself, for Christ’ sake.” He yells, hearing your eyes roll. “Love you!”

Eddie shuts the door, reminding himself to check the recycling when he gets home.

“Daddy, huh?” Steve asks, poking fun as they get into his truck.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving the keys into the ignition. His hands move to put the vehicle in reverse when something occurs to him. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, give me a sec.” Eddie brings out his phone, going through the 15 contacts, scrolls right to Maya. He rings it.

“…Hello?” Maya answers, sounding understandably perplexed.

“Hi, Maya, how would one know what kind of ring to get without asking the person it’s for?” Steve’s brows rais, the errand being ring shopping is news to him.

“Well… it depends. Do you want to buy her a ring just because…or are you shopping for,” she pauses, slowly saying it. If she was wrong, it could set off an alarm, “…an engagement ring?”

“Yeah, an engagement ring.” Eddie admits, saying it out loud feels crazy to him. “How would one figure that out?”

“Give me five minutes.” She says, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

As Eddie stares at his phone in bewilderment, Steve leans into him. “Engagement ring, huh?”

“Won’t be asking her until at least another few months, if I can even wait that long. I said something on the phone with Brooke today. It just came out.” Eddie offers, his voice soft as he explains to Steve what’s been invading his mind for the last hour. “Brooke went a bit far on the insults. She called her a skank.”

“How classy.” Steve offers dryly, his face suggesting it was anything but.

“I got so mad. I’ve never been as mad at her as I was when those words left her mouth. I said if she ever called my wife a name again, I would be calling more than just my lawyer.” He quotes himself, letting the word sink into Steve’s skin.

“Oh shit.” Steve mutters, the weight of the word kicking in.

“Yeah, it slipped out, but calling her my wife felt so damn good I couldn’t help myself. I’m not getting any younger.” Eddie pauses before saying anything else, the next confession might be too much to say out loud yet.

“C’mon. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Steve says, giving him some comfort.

“Her eyes when she looks at pictures of Eliza, or listens to stories about your boys, fuck I thought I never wanted another kid, but Jesus Christ, I need to see her face when she looks at one of ours.” Eddie admits out loud for the first time, the words scaring the shit out of him. Dylan in his 20s was exhausting. Could he handle another newborn? Another toddler? Another teenager?

Steve felt like he held all the power in knowing you two both wanted a kid. Feels like neither of you are ready to tell the other, so it’s a secret he’ll have to keep to himself for now. (If he’s strong enough.)

Eddie’s phone buzzes, a link appearing in a message from Maya. He opens it up and it directs him to your Pinterest page. Eddie wonders how Maya even found it. Your name isn’t connected to it. The link is specific to a board labeled Engagement Rings with a bunch of sparkle emojis surrounding it. Eddie looks at a few of them, screenshotting a handful to get the basic idea of what you’d want. He texts back Maya to thank her and puts his truck in reverse before Steve even knows what’s happening.

Eddie and Steve go through at least three jewelry stores before Eddie angers Steve at his indecisiveness. It isn’t that Eddie is indecisive, it’s that he’s hoping for a jeweler to look at the general vibe of your board and have the perfect ring to offer. Instead, Eddie’s met with vague indications of where he could look. These interactions all leave Eddie feeling frustrated as just walks out of the store for the next one only about ten feet away.

It takes Eddie a few tries until he finds the fairy godmother he’s been looking for, but finally he shows an engagement ring specialist the general aura of the rings you had saved, and she brings out four or five options that fall into the same category for Eddie to look at. Maybe Eddie could’ve been clearer with other stores of what he needed, but it felt as if they didn’t think he was going to buy one, anyway. Here, in this store, he feels like a respected customer, which goes a long way with him. In his shop, he spends his extra time making sure his men don’t treat any ladies like they know less just because they’re women. He hoped that even though he had a few faded tattoos and dressed alternatively, he’d be extended that same courtesy.

The helpful sales lady holds up each ring and explains to Eddie why she picked it in relevance to the photos you saved. Eddie sighs, each one in the right field, but not quite there. As she puts rings away to keep on looking, Eddie clutches onto the glass in frustration, feeling completely unprepared. Brooke basically gave him her ring and told him to propose when he had the balls. He wants you to love this ring, he wants to see it and know that it was made for you.

Maybe that’s too much to place on a ring. But for Eddie, just the simple prospect of searching for this ring means he has the hope that you will be his for the rest of his life.

Just when he’s ready to leave for the next store, she brings another one, a look on her face that tells Eddie she might’ve found exactly what he’s been looking for. She lays it out on a cloth, as Eddie marvels at it. It’s a thin, silver ring with four blue stones lined up along the band as the metal crosses over itself like vines. Eddie knows all of the jewelry you wear is silver, dainty, and has a few hints of blue. From the moment he sees it, he knows it’s the One.

Eddie holds it up for a few moments, circling it around in his hand. It takes all the self control in the world not to just head home and propose that night. He hands over a ring he took from the center console in your closet to the sales lady for your size. Within ten minutes, the papers are signed, the ring paid for, and Eddie walks out with a small white bag.

They get into the truck, the white bag small, yet significant as it sits in the back seat. “Well, that’s a step you’re taking.” Steve observes, carefully assessing his best friend’s emotional state.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie hums, staring at the bag in the rearview mirror. “And now, I’m fighting the urge to propose tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asks him, the speed of your relationship knocking him in the gut. “Let’s not scare her off. Plan a nice meal, set out a pretty dress on the bed for her. I bet she’d appreciate that.” Eddie considers this, knowing Steve is probably right.

So, now the ring sits in its box in the bottom of Eddie’s underwear drawer.

When Eddie and Steve get home, they find you on the couch napping while a movie neither of them has heard of plays on the TV, a bottle of nearly empty coke on the table next to it. Eddie sneaks upstairs to hide the evidence, the bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and the ring tucked safely away. When he comes back down, Steve is in the kitchen making himself a snack for the road while Eddie crouches in front of the couch to wake you up.

“Morning, baby.” He says in a low voice, petting your left cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitches as you wake up, the last thing you remember is being giddy as you picked up your order from the front step with chips, candy, and a single bottle of pop. As you finished most of your snack, the movie started to matter less and less, a phenomenon that only occurs when you know that you’re about to pass out on the couch.

“There she is.” He mumbles as your eyes take in your surroundings. Him, the end of the movie you picked out, and the setting sun through the curtains. “Hi. I see we didn’t take my concern for the amount of pop you consume to heart?” He musters, gesturing to the side table.

You stretch, every muscle in your extended limbs feeling it. “You made it pretty clear it was for my teeth.” You mumble, unable to prevent a smile at Eddie’s floored reaction.

“I see.” He mutters, and the smirk on his face is enough to send a thrill of fear through you. “C’mon, Steve is about to leave town. Let’s go say our goodbyes.”

He tugs on your hands, lifting you up off the couch, guiding you to where Steve’s packing a recyclable grocery store bag with snacks he found around the kitchen. He comes out of the kitchen clutching the bag, his brown eyes shooting a fond look to the both of you. “Sorry, guys. Gotta get to the actual purpose of my trip eventually.”

You squint at him, pretending to consider forgiving him. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. If… you bring Eliza next time.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Steve mutters under his breath, chuckling. Eliza Harrington really has the whole world wrapped around her little pinky. (And oh, boy, does she know it.) He grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you in close for a hug. “Take care of him, will ya?”

You nod into his bicep, the soft spot he had gained for you over the last two days taking you by surprise and vice versa for him. “You know I will.”

Steve can’t resist the joke. “Oh, I know you do.”

You hit him playfully, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

Steve and Eddie share an even longer hug, something about saying goodbye to old friends is always hard, you know that. As they separate, still clutching each other, Steve says something under his breath that makes Eddie hit him harshly. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Dude. Subtlety?”

Steve chuckles as he picks up his bag of goodies. “If you two are one thing, it ain’t subtle.”

You’re left questioning what could’ve possibly warranted the reaction that Eddie let out as Steve and Eddie do a few more rounds of farewell. It never seems to end as they keep bringing up new topics with each step Steve makes toward the door. It reminds you of your mom at the grocery store when you were eight.

The door finally slams, Steve yelling an "I love you" while Eddie shouts “Yeah right!” He brings out his phone soon after, sending I love you, too to Steve as a text. Well, Eddie is realizing that a next time is never guaranteed.

The moment Steve’s SUV takes off, the low hum of the engine riding off to the end of the street, you turn back to the couch for a night in with Eddie. Alas, he has other plans. You lead him to the couch, holding his hand. Eddie tugs you back sharply, your limbs flailing as a result. “Woah, there, sweetheart.”

You give him a questioning look, wondering if you were just picturing his eyes darkening. “Hmm?”

“I asked you, very nicely, not to order pop. For one thing I think you drink too much of it, and for another there is water, juice, alcohol, even. Baby, I would just appreciate you taking my wishes into account.” His voice is serious, to a point that startles you. “So. As mentioned, there will be a consequence.”

“Like…like what?” You ask him, gulping as he traces his fingers along your collarbone so lightly you barely feel it.

He leans down, leaning into whisper, “Run.”

Your heart rate stutters as you turn away from him and run straight towards the basement, a place you know was once Dylan’s hangout spot, but now is just a dusty living room. Your feet trip over themselves as they run down the steps, pure panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you run to a guest room, hiding in the corner.

Upstairs, there are footsteps leading directly to the steps you just ran down. He fucking walks. He takes his time, step by step, and you can tell with each step as your heart rate picks up that he’s taunting you. He knows you’re in some corner somewhere, but he just doesn’t know which one. “Downstairs, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” Eddie admits, peering around each corner with his hands behind his back.

Fuck, you’re just a sitting duck here. You crawl up by the door, waiting patiently as he walks into the room right across from the one you’re hiding in. You make a quick run for the stairs, your breathing tight in your chest as you run, but for some reason, can’t recall why you’re running, you’re so fucking turned on right now. Your first few steps are loud and you curse out loud when suddenly Eddie’s feet are right behind yours, giggling with glee as you do.

Somehow, you make it up the steps and run straight to the kitchen, stopping at the island. He lands on the other side, his face hungry with want, his shirt untucked. There’s a wild look in his eye you can’t quite understand. You giggle as you attempt to go either way, realizing you’re stuck where you are.

“Oh, how is she gonna get out?” He taunts, watching you assess the situation.

Your instincts take over. You miraculously hop onto the island, using some sort of kicking method against the counter straight across and crawl into a dive for him, attacking his lips with yours. He accepts you without fail, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back hungrily. You place kisses down his neck, focusing on the one spot on his collarbone you knew he loved when you sucked on it.

“Like that.” You answer him, starting to run straight towards your bedroom.

Laughter like music to Eddie’s ears leaves your mouth as you reach the top of the stairs, and he books it straight after you, not waiting another second to chase you to where he suspects is either the hallway or your closet. You’re crouched down in the hallway, hoping he’ll go straight to the bedroom. He doesn’t, seeing you as soon as he rounds the corner.

He fists your hair at the crown and you help as he lifts you to your feet. “Looks like I caught ya.” He hums, his face watching you closely. His hands let go of you and he moves to kiss you again, his tongue feeling a sort of rough it hasn’t before. “Holy shit.” He mutters, guiding you so you’re up against the wall.

You kiss him back, and for what felt like the first time, you didn’t spend an ounce thinking about it, just giving in. “Ed.” You whimper, the heat between your legs now begging you to provide friction.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, his hands moving roughly up and down your body. “What, baby?”

“Ed. Please.” You beg him, lifting your leg so you can at least feel his boner peeking at your clothed cunt.

“Nuh uh.” He tuts, lightly pushing on the knee. Your leg falls down, as well as your face. “You don’t get off until I tell you to. So, unless I move your leg, or remove your shirt, you just let me kiss you and respond. Got it?”

You gulp, nodding your head. “Yes.” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes faltering for a fraction of a second. “Eddie?” You ask, making sure he’s okay.

Eddie loves that you can pick up on this, even as he gives you new rules and a new playground to explore. “Do you mind just…doing one thing for me? It kind of stuck with me since you moved in.”

“What?” You ask, your heat still aching, but for the sake of his sanity and for his good graces, you attempt to stand still. (You’re terrible at it.)

“Call me sir?”

You reflect on moving day, the men calling him the name that so obviously gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, when you commented on it, you made an impact. “Yes, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie hisses, marveling at you now, staring up at him through your eyelashes, waiting to be told what to do. “Now, be a good girl and bend over against the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” You tell him, turning around against the wall.

“No, actually.” He says, taking you by the hand and taking you downstairs. He guides your hips so you’re right in front of the kitchen sink and he bends you over. “Much better.”

He moves your sweats and panties down only to the middle of your thighs, bending on his knees as he admires the slick that has already gathered. “So wet.” He murmurs. You whimper as he barely dips a finger into your entrance, gathering some slick on his finger. He lifts it up to your mouth, “Open.” You do so without hesitation, licking your tongue all over the three knuckles he places in your mouth, tasting your own arousal. Without warning, he takes his finger out from your mouth and wipes it on your shirt. You waited for the praise that never came.

“Oh, now brats get praise for doing what they’re told?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking as he pulls down his pants.

“No, sir.” You mutter, now craving that praise even more.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good girl and take this for me.” It’s the only warning you get before he slides his cock in. Your feet are practically planted right next to one another so you start to open your stance to allow him to go in deeper. “Ah.” You freeze in place, realizing your mistake.

He places his hand around your neck and brings it back to him, your neck extended feeling both incredibly uncomfortable and hot. “What did you do wrong?”

“Move without your say so.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, move without your say so, sir.”

“Here. If you ask, and I say yes, or, if I tell you to. That’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eddie smiles down at your blown pupils and half open mouth. He was afraid he jumped in too deep and threw you into the bathwater, but he could feel your pussy tighten around him. You’re so into this. He gently kisses your forehead and lets go of your neck. He slides his cock in even more, and keep in mind, he hasn’t even started to fuck you, yet. He’s barely halfway in your pussy and holds onto your hips as he sees you start to squirm. “You need something baby?”

“Could you move please, sir? Just a little bit? Need it so bad.”

“Should’ve thought of that sooner, then baby.” He musters, sounding bored, though he’s anything but. “Here.” Without warning, Eddie moves his fingers against your clit and has you teetering the edge in mere minutes. You’re so close, you can see the edge. It’s right there.

He stops. He slides in a bit more into you as his mouth gets close to your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Consequence.” He grunts out, his grip on your hips bruising.

Your knuckles are white as you hold onto the edge of the sink like a vice. It’s like you can taste it. He doesn’t move another inch, his heartbeat against your back and the only audible sound coming from you is your panting in need. Eddie pushes in the rest of his length and a second beautiful sound is added to the mix, one he couldn’t get enough of, even if he tried. Why would he ever try? The sound of your pussy as you gush around him is perfect. “Taking me so well.” Eddie mumbles as he places both of his hands over yours on the sink.

The whimper that leaves your throat forces its way out, your body is tense from doing everything you can not to swivel your hips or back yourself into him. “Baby, you’re so tense.” His arms flex along yours, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth. “Why, hmm?”

“You…you said not to move unless you say so.” You tell him, frustrated because, of course, he knows.

“Or, unless you ask to.” Eddie adds, his chin resting on that spot on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Sir, can I please move my hips?” You ask him, hoping he isn’t teasing you again.

“Of course, baby.” Eddie’s tone is sweet and endearing. What a goddamn liar he is.

The words are like music to your ears as you start to move your hips, testing the waters. When your movement isn’t met with any punishment, you start moving more frantically, fucking yourself on his cock. Eddie lets out a sigh of content, hands raking down your back to your hips, the palms rough against your bare ass. “Sir, can I please move my feet?”

“See? My good girl is catching on. Of course you can, baby.” He answers, a smile lacing his voice.

Giddily, you move your feet further apart. “Sir, please…please take my clothes off?” You ask, waistband restricting your legs. “Wanna feel you.”

Eddie’s hands move down the apples of your ass to the sweats that started moving down your legs from the impact of your ass that had just started bouncing on him. He kisses your clothed back as you step out of them, kicking the garment aside. You feel the cotton of your shirt move up your back, your arms lifting over your head to assist Eddie as he takes it off. His lips touch the bare skin of your back, his tongue sending ripples down your spine as you shiver under his touch. Eddie grunts as you continue to swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck.” Eddie grunts, watching your naked form wither against him. He can no longer fight the incessant need that’s grown while waiting for you to ask him for movement. His hips start mercilessly pounding into you without a hint of a warning. The moans that fall from your throat are uninhibited and radically full of relief. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod your head, curling over the sink as your arms give out.

Eddie slows down and takes himself out, and your hand moves to push yourself off the sink the littlest bit when you realize your mistake. “You can move.” Eddie smirks, noting your obedience. He’s still standing with his pants down to his calves and his shirt disheveled. He steps out from his pants, tossing the pair toward your pile of clothes. Then he goes down each button on his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to you. As his fingers move over each one, you eye his chest hungrily, aware he’s watching your face while you watch him.

The shirt falls down his arms with a slight flop as the material hits the floor. “Sir…” you gulp, the two of you staring at one another. “Sir, can I kiss you?”

Eddie smirks, nodding his head. You take the two steps toward him and your legs wrap around his hips as you hungrily kiss each other. He turns toward the kitchen island, a small yelp leaving your mouth as the cold granite counter hits the warm flesh of your ass cheeks. He guides his cock into you, slowly pushing into your heat, watching your face as your eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

You nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” Eddie asks, using his mouth and tongue against your neck.

“Good? Your cock is perfect, Ed.”

“What happened to sir, baby?” He asks, yet continues to rut into you. Your face falters, realizing your mistake. He lets out a laugh, pitying you.

He places his fingertips on your clit, circling slowly, making the heat that’s pooled in your stomach hotter and larger than you could even conceive. “That…that feels so good, Ed.” You tell him, letting your head fall back.

“God, I love when your tight pussy just-” he inhales through his teeth, “sucks me in… Feels like heaven.”

You giggle, the end of it cut off by a particularly rough thrust. “Heaven?” You gasp out, Eddie starts to move his fingers faster and matches the pace with his hips.

“If Heaven isn’t fucking this tight pussy all day, then I don’t fucking want it.” Eddie gasps back, a growl forming under his breath.

“Ed, I’m gonna—” the feeling overwhelms you, the edge muting your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Eddie moans as you tighten more around him, a fix he figured impossible. He still rotates on your clit, you release two sharp exhales, the heat too hot, too much. “Too much, Ed.”

“You can do it, baby. I could just edge you more.” He mutters.

You giggle, frightened at the goddamn prospect of it. “No, no, no.”

“No? Well then show me. Let’s feel that pussy make a mess all over my cock.” You came from the words alone, giggles intertwined through your moans. “Oh fuck, good girl,”

“I’m so close, baby.” He moans.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask him, your legs tight around his hips as you bite at his collar bone.

“Keep doing that.” Eddie begs you, and you happily oblige. Every nip, bite and suck at his collarbone had him gasping over you, the chain of his necklace hanging between you two. Your hands go into his hair, pulling at him and you could probably have a third one at the rate he was going at.

No probably about it, but Eddie’s panting and you’re exhausted.

Even then.

He pushes you down as he cums, your back screaming with cold as it hits the island counter. Eddie collapses on top of you, and you breathe heavily together, both catching your breath. His mouth latches on your neck, kissing a trail to your lips. “Oh, I love you.”

You smile into his kiss, your noodle legs falling from his hips. “I love you.” You find yourself wrapped in his arms, the smell of sweat and sex invades the kitchen. His chest is covered in sweat and there’s nothing better.

“Join me for a shower?” He asks after you two have a moment of silence, his fingers single handedly causing a brigade of goosebumps down your side as they move in a whisper over your skin. His other hand is wrapped on your left hand, and you don’t realize he’s unconsciously rubbing at your ring finger.

“If I can walk.” You giggle.

Eddie chuckles, pulling himself out of you and giving you a sleepy half smile. “I could always…” He begins, and then he scoops you up over his shoulder to take you up the stairs. You protest for the first minute of it, but when the view is his toned ass as he walks up the stairs, you really couldn’t complain.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older eddie munson #older!eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #older eddie munson x reader

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americas1suiteheart · 7 months

Text

Had this idea a little while back and decided to go on with it! Tell me how you guys feel about it.

Kleptomaniacs

[Tangerine x Kleptomaniac! Reader]

[Summary; You've been working with the twins for a good while now, and all whilst knowing them you've bonded with them through similar interests. For Lemon, Thomas the Tank Engine, and on the other hand as for Tangerine and you - kleptomania..]

[Notes; You've got a code name, so there's no use of Y/n but know that your "Citron," (When I tried to post this after finishing it up, tumblr gave out on me and deleted it completely off the face of the internet so I had to write it again. Thanks Tumblr)]

[Warnings; Swearing, Stealing, it's a Bullet Train fanfic what do you expect?]

"God are you guys seriously fuckin' doing this shit again? You guys are gonna get caught one day doing that and you two are gonna be fucked y'know that right?" Lemon groans.

You and Tangerine made a game to see how much shit you could steal before chickening out. You can't do anything worse than killing people for money so you two figured, why the hell not?

"Fuck off Lem," You and Tangerine say at the same time dismissing him.

"Citron, I think you've officially spent too much time with Tan."

"Hey you can't say shit Lem, you've brainwashed Citron here into thinking of people in terms of fuckin' Thomas the Train characters you twat," Tangerine says, sneaking a pack of sweets into his suit jacket.

"Don't say shit about Thomas the Tank Engine, and dont call me a twat, you're the right fuckin' twat you ass," Lemon says, pointing a finger at Tangerine.

"Will you two stop acting like children? I spend too much time with the both of you, and you've both got qualities that are fuckin' annoying, the both of you are twats." You groan, taking multiple trinkets and small toys and shoving them into your pocket.

"Fucks sake mate, your taking the fuckin' children's toys?"

"I can take what I want Lem, piss off," You hiss.

This is typically how you three interacted with eachother. Lots of bickering and cussing at eachother, almost like teenagers that just learned a new cuss word

You'd figured with the boys it was just how they talked being that they were siblings and grew up together. I mean, you had siblings too but you never talked that way with them. Maybe it was just the way they were raised.

But with you, maybe you started acting like them and having the same behaviour after knowing them for so long. You hadn't acted like this before you met them.

You and Tangerine had finally gotten your rush from taking things and you three left the store, walking to your car given to you guys for the mission.

"Alright, start countin' everything you have," You say, getting everything out of all of your pockets and such.

"You guys have a fuckin' problem, I've said it multiple times and I'll say it again. You need to fuckin' see someone about that shit." Lemon shakes his head disappointingly at you two.

You and Tangerine ignore him as to not loose count of your stolen items.

The two of you finally finish, then looking at eacother and saying what you had in total. "32," You smirk, overly confident you had more.

But you already know you've lost when a cheeky smile appears on Tangerine's face, "47."

Your mouth hangs agape, staying quiet for at least 20 seconds. That's the most either of you had ever taken the four years you've known eachother so far.

"The worst part is that most of that shit is just sweets," Lemon says breaking the silence.

"Fuck off Lem," Tangerine hisses.

"Got a sweet tooth eh?" You chuckle, poking fun at him.

"I aint got no fuckin' sweet tooth, the sweets just so happened to be the easiest and least childish things to steal." Tangerine says, turning on the car.

Tan always liked to uphold this "tough manly guy," sort of figure. For example, when you're at a petrol station market and you and Lemon are over getting sugary drinks such as pop or juice, you best believe Tan would be getting water or a black coffee calling you two children.

"And sweets aren't childish?" Lemon raises his eyebrow.

"I didn't even get them for me you fuckin' bellend, I know you two like that sugary shit." Tangerine says.

"Wow, when did Gordon become an Edward," You say, giving Tangerine a cheeky grin.

Tangerine just sighs in defeat, knowing you and Lemon will end up teasing him just to mess with him the rest of the time regardless.

The ride back to the hotel was fairly calm, you and Lemon eating the stolen sweets and showing off the small toys you took as well, when you suddenly remembered something else you'd gotten for the both of them at another shop.

"Lemon, can you hand me that bag right there please?" You say, pointing to the small, blue bag next to him.

Lemon nods and hands you the bag from the back, you reaching over to grab it from his hands.

You take out a small plastic wrapped Thomas The Tank Engine phone charm and hand it to Lemon.

Lemon's face immediately lights up as he takes it out of its packaging, putting it on his phone and fiddling with it.

"Got this for you too, Tan," You say, turning to him and handing him a small satin bag.

"You steal this too?" Tangerine says, glancing at the bag before returning his eyes to the road.

"No, no. I actually bought that, I don't steal sentimental gifts I give, I'm not a fuckin' monster," You say, putting your hand on your chest in fake offense.

Tangerine gives you a judgemental glance.

"What is it?" He asks, still holding the small bag in his hand.

"Open it,"

Tangerine smiles and opens the bag with one hand, taking out a silver and blue colored star engraved ring.

"Its a promise ring. I saw it in a shop and figured we should get matching ones. I hope its your size, I kinda just guessed," You say, showing him your right hand that the ring was on.

"This is lovely, darling. Thank you.." Tangerine says with a loving smile, quickly putting it on his right hand with all of his other rings.

"You two are just right fuckin' sops for eachother it's sickeningly sweet," Lemon says, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tangerine mumbles something both you and Lemon couldn't hear, though by the tone it was very clearly not anything nice.

After a while longer, you three finally make it back to the hotel, Lemon checks all of you in and you all walk up to your hotel room.

As soon as you get in Lemon sets his stuff down and heads to the restroom for a shower, leaving you and Tangerine alone with eachother as you two unpack your bags.

"Tangerine?" You speak out, turning to look at Tangerine who was putting his clothes into the bottom drawer of the hotel room dresser.

"Yes, love?" Tangerine says.

"Thank you. For staying with me even when we go through all this shit. It's stressful and keeping relationships has never been easy for me with this job, you're the only one that's stayed this long and I want to let you know how grateful I am for it." You say, putting what you were doing aside so you could talk to him without any distractions.

Tangerine's head perks up a bit, then turning to look at you.

He smiles sweetly and walks over to you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"Darling, you have no clue how happy I am that you've stayed with me the same. I know I can be difficult at times as well," Tangerine said, voice barely above a whisper.

You rarely ever get to see a softer side of Tan, but when you do you try to savor it as much as possible.

"You guys, are fuckin' disgusting. What I just saw there was right fucking nasty." Lemon says, standing in front of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Fuck off Lem."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

[Quick Authors Note! Sorry I haven't gotten to these requests and other stuff these past few months, I've been busy and have had other stuff get in the way. I know this isn't much but I'm trying to clean up my drafts.

#tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson #fluff

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demonslayedher · 3 months

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Not-very-spoilery thoughts on the movie release of Pillar Training (+SSV conclusion)

Behind a cut anyway just in case!

--Very nice to hear familiar background music brought back--Yuukaku themes when Uzui & his wives appear, Mitsuri's "Koi Kogare" BGM when she has a good batch of lines, Giyuu's BGM as he's like, "bye"

--I am very happy with the new OP, both sound and imagery-wise.

--One very short clip in particular made me, a fanfic writer, very very happy, but then there was more gratuitous focus that reminded me of another one of my best fanfics. The rewards of writing fic as closely based on canon as I could get them gives me the satisfaction of feel liking like canon-based imagery honors my fics by extension.

--Speaking of imagery in general, Ufotable is finding lots of ways to try to harp on the idea that everyone's wishes to destroy demons find their accumulation in Tanjiro, the Sun Breath user and first person in centuries to unlock the Mark. It is perhaps a little clumsy at times, but hey, that's a theme I like in this series.

--I was sad that Suma sounded so different, and had to look up afterward if she still had the same seiyuu. She does, but I think they might have given her totally different vocal direction so that she wouldn't sound too similar to Mitsuri

--Japanese crowds tend to be very quiet at movie theaters, but people could not contain their giggles at many of Mitsuri's lines

--I had the honor of sitting next to a huuuuuuuge fangirl who before the moving was saying stuff to her friends like, "(Hanae) Natsuki-san was at USJ the other day, and since it's a VR ride, you know, you have to wear the goggles, and I think, what if I wear the pair that he wore??? You know?? Our faces??? Would be so close?????" and then at the review of previous seasons at the beginning of the show, she started crying the instant the Mugen Ressha part started. Not loud crying, but crying.

--You can tell everyone was waiting for the "welcome back" scene, and although I thought Zenitsu would steal the show in that scene, it was indeed Nezuko. In the seiyuu greeting that was broadcast across all Japanese theaters on the opening day, Shimono-san noted that he thinks the audio was turned down on his performance of that scene. I think it was probably was too.

--So much happy daily life in this episode. If you have any friends who complained about last year's theater showing being a let-down because it was just regular anime episodes instead of a Mugen Train style movie, please tell them to just sit this one out and spare us their complaints. Most of this showing was just Tanjiro having a nice time after having a panic attack over Nezuko (oh, and like, killing Upper Moon Four, that too).

--Shinobu's hair seems distinctly longer. Giyuu's hair seems distinctly fluffier.

--Ufotable has put a lot of touches into humanizing Amane

--I wish Ufotable would stop trying to drive the "Zenitsu thinks Aoi is happy to see him (just because Aoi is a girl)" point. First off, yes, Zenitsu being a creep to girls is played up a bit in the anime. Second, the first fanbook states that the only kind of girl who is not so much his type is the Aoi-type.

--Also, on the promo art, I like the design they gave Shinobu's sword, but that's ignoring the fact that the four engraved kanji characters are on either side. Go ahead, Ufotable, hire me as your canon double-checker. EDIT: Oh wait, that is its sheath. Lovely, carry on.

--That said, the original filler they gave us? Gold star. Excellent. So happy with it. One... well, two tiny nitpicks that don't bother me much but stating it here would spoil it.

--One more non-spoilery thing to say about that filler: the people at Ufotable were probably like, "our fans are nerds. We already give them this, this, this, and that to nerd over. You know what else they are probably nerds for? Yeah. Let's give them that." Thank you, Ufotable. This nerd accepts and loved it.

--Tiny Nezuko filler as they set the stage talking about Muzan is probably looking for her? LOVE THAT TOUCH, at every level.

--Shinobu does have multiple goldfish, but they look a bit different?

--Genya's makes the best face in this whole episode

--Speaking of Genya, in the seiyuu greeting they had actors in big chibi costumes of the Kamaboko gang come out... PLUS GENYA. Giant chibi grumpy Genya was so, so, so, so freaking cute. Also, his seiyuu Okamoto got to join the stage with everybody and was talking about how he always used to scroll through his social media seeing the other seiyuu at KnY events and he was like, "sigh... sure looks like everyone is having fun..."

--Hanae Natsuki and his wife are big Genya fans, though, it seems

--Okamoto had a lot of trouble performing young Genya in the flashback, especially the emotional screaming. The desperation Genya always displays as he fights? That was Okamoto. --Meanwhile, Matsuoka always looks very overwhelmed at these things. I think having to embody the spirit of Inosuke terrifies him.

--IT WAS SO GOOD TO HEAR INOSUKE AGAIN

--Those actors in chibi costumes? The Zenitsu and Inosuke ones embodied them SO WELL. I don't usually care for those giant mascot character costumes, but these were legit so much fun to watch, like with Inosuke going right up into the cameras and Zenitsu trying to pull him back and then the two of them pushing and shoving. Zenitsu acting like he is being bullied and Inosuke showing off his muscles. I loved them. I am very sad that I will not be in town when they travel across Japan and come to my area.

--Also, the baritone voice of Oyakata-sama's personal crow? LOVED IT.

--Himejima at the the Pillar Meeting is such a statement. The new promotional material has a tag line that prominently uses one of the kanji in his name ("cry out"), and I feel like this is set-up for him to have a lot of impact later on in this season. Here's hoping!

--I am probably gonna go watch it again in a couple weeks, ufufufu

--Which is worth it for that KIZUNA NO KISEKI REMIX WHICH SOUNDED SO COOL IN SURROUND SOUND, OH MY GOSH

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coltermorning · 4 months

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A New Year to Remember (A Christmas to Remember Pt. 2, RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: With another meeting planned on the first day of the year, you eagerly await the possibilities it could bring.

Author’s Notes: I just had to write this one—it was too cute for me not to :) Part one is here.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, fluff

AO3 Link

A New Year to Remember

Word count: 3238

Monday, Emerald Ranch

You clutched the concise letter in your hand, like doing so would bleed the words from the page enough to make time pass with urgency. But it wouldn’t. You would wait. This would be worth it.

It had been five days since you’d seen Arthur, five days sitting on the feeling that drawing of his had bloomed within you. He wanted your hand in marriage. You were still a little dumbfounded over it, still unbelieving you had ever earned something so good in this life, especially considering the circumstances. But he, like you, had come to know one thing—love was stronger. Consequences be damned. So you waited.

You sat under the awning at the livery, ready to rid yourself of Valentine entirely if not for the rain that fell in a torrent. It wasn’t cold enough for snow, and the downpour deterred you unlike anything the colder weather could do. All you wanted was to be in Emerald Ranch. No matter that you had two days left to wander around without cause, without purpose other than the need to see the man you loved. But the weather had other ideas. You wouldn’t find yourself ill for stubbornness either due to the drenching weather, so you would force yourself to wait, to dream, to imagine what this meeting would lead to.

The very idea of marriage had always been picturesque to you. A slow-moving march in a wedding gown. Love so full the smiles caught. Daily life made better by another, by a partner. And putting a face to the man who would stand at the other side was more fulfilling than you thought possible. Arthur’s awe as you approached him, heart in hand. His smile over getting to call you his in fondness and in name. The days yet to come, endless days made for being together and nothing more. It was too good to be true.

It wouldn’t always be easy. You knew that, though you didn’t care. It was certain the pair of you would have to leave this area of the country. Even using Arthur’s name here was dangerous, in the place where everything had gone wrong for him. Fingers pointed and blame thrown around like fire, catching, spreading, destroying everything it touched. But somehow, not him. He was pure as gold, his soul coming out more gilded for all that harrowing encounter put him through. A second chance at life. A chance to do it better this time. And oh, how much better he was when it came to you. He was a boy in a man’s clothing, his love as fragile as a bird, never knowing anything but betrayal yet wanting more still. Wanting and wanting and wanting, enough to make your heart break for him. Because you would give that to him until the end of your days, until he didn’t feel the need to want so desperately anymore. It would be natural to him one day—to love and be loved in return. You would see to it with absolute surety. Because if you knew anything about him, you knew this: a man so hardened by life, so broken by it, to still have such a strong love for the very thing that rejected him…he deserved it more than anyone. And you, of all people, had the privilege of bestowing that love on him. You would do your best to make it count. To make him believe in it once more, to never have to fear losing it. What an honor.

Sitting on an upturned crate hiding from the rain, you dragged out the journal he had given you and began to draw. You drew the feeling in your chest until it turned into Arthur on the page, your hand mimicking the love he held for you despite all odds. His hands resting on his gun belt, his broad yet relaxed shoulders, his smirking grin with a cigarette between it. All things that made him the man he was, all things that he gave to you without even knowing it. What did it mean to love someone? As you drew line after line, stroke after stroke, the image coming to you as natural as breathing, you thought you knew.

It was Monday. The first day of the new year. The rain had stopped early yesterday morning, and you had chased its end out of town and straight to Emerald Ranch. You had been not-so-patiently waiting around, wondering what time to plan on seeing him. Even your horse had grown restless beneath you, perhaps wondering why you led it in endless circles with no true destination. Alas, where you were headed couldn’t be reached by map. The thought made you smile.

You were riding through the middle of the small settlement, straight out of town only to inevitably turn back, when you heard it.

“There she is.”

The familiar voice made your heart leap, and you turned and found Arthur atop his horse, hands crossed over his saddle horn, smiling at you. For all the world, like this was the most regular meeting in it. You rolled your horse back and spurred it on, going to him, dropping to the ground before you could even pull up the reins.

“Arthur,” you said, all the happiness felt for him pouring out in the utterance. He was dismounting and pulling you into a hug in seconds, his smile contagious.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t be apart from him a moment longer, all the waiting around doing a number on you. You pulled away and leaned up, kissing him. Then kissing him some more. Enough that when you broke apart, he was laughing fondly, his face red as a beet.

“My drawing didn’t scare you off I see,” he said, though he knew the answer to that. You had written him within minutes of seeing the damned thing, telling him to get his ass back to town, berating him for leaving it in the first place.

“No,” you answered anyway. “Quite the opposite.”

“Hm,” he muttered, tilting his head in feigned thought. “Guess we’ll have to do something about that.” And the smug look he gave you, his face so close and so darn kissable, what he was proposing—literally proposing…

“Come on,” he said, turning before you could blink. So that’s how it would be—never knowing the moment he would pop the burning question until he did it. You smiled so wide your face ached with it, but you could only shake your head and return to your horse, mounting back up, seeing where this day would lead.

“Got a ride ahead of us,” Arthur said as he settled into his saddle. “You sure you’re up for it?”

Whether he meant the day or the rest of your life, you didn’t care. As long as you were with him.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The pair of you rode and rode, along winding paths, past a lake, up into the mountains where the air got thinner and the wind had a bite to it. He lead so aimlessly you were beginning to wonder if even he knew where he was going, until he stopped suddenly and said, “Here’s good.”

You just watched him swing down off his horse, a little confused. “Here?”

You were in the middle of the woods just off the path. The most nondescript place on earth.

He smirked. “What, this not good enough for you?”

“No! Not that, I just-”

“Relax,” he said, waving you off as he untied his bedroll from his horse. “Let’s leave the horses here. You up for a walk?”

You knew him, knew he didn’t like his horse being far. This was strange behavior coming from him. But it seemed he had planned this out, so you went with it anyway.

“Sure,” you answered, dismounting, tying your horse where it stood.

“Good.”

Then you walked over to him to let him lead the way. But he hung back, switching his bedroll to his other side and reaching for your hand. You grinned like a fool and took it.

“Such a sap.”

“Shut up.” But he held on tight and walked with you, not quite so big and tough as he looked for once.

He led you deeper into the woods for about a quarter mile, then up. The woods turned to rock, to hills verging on mountains. He held your hand firm, the ground uneven and littered with rocks enough to make both of you stumble a bit. Finally, the rock gave way to a flatter, more grassy spance of ground, and he stopped.

“How’s here?”

“Here’s…anywhere’s fine. Really, I didn’t mean-”

He stopped you again. “Don’t worry about it.” He finally released your hand and undid his bedroll, flaring it out to its full extent so that it fell wide to the ground. He set it down and turned to you with a mischievous look as he made to sit on it. “Care to join me?”

Gladly. You didn’t even have to respond before you were moving, missing the touch of his hand already. He settled and leaned back, and you sat close enough to lean into him, to take in the scent he wore like a second layer of clothes.

He sighed then, content as could be, content as you were. Though you couldn’t deny you were nervous. Unknowing about when he would ask what you so desperately wanted him to. But instead of worrying about that, you caught sight of the view. He had taken you high enough to overlook the trail you had ridden, the woods surrounding it. The lake below. It was a beautiful day, the storm from yesterday long gone, the sun beginning to sink in the sky and light up the trees, the water, the world. Even your two horses far below could be seen, and you understood then why he was okay with leaving them. They were never quite out of sight.

“Missed you.”

His low, warm voice was like honey, and you relaxed into it and into the feel of his hand coming up to your head, his fingers running through your hair.

“Didn’t have to, you know. Could have stayed.”

You watched the view as you said it. You would normally want to look at him, but the way his fingers tugged through your wind-tangled hair with the easiest pressure was relaxing you.

“Couldn’t have done that,” he said. “I owe my woman a little ceremony at least.”

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, leaning into his touch. “But you know I would have married you right there on the street. In the mud and the horseshit.” You turned to him then, smiling.

He smiled back, a flash of teeth. “I know you would, darlin’. But you deserve more than that.”

He admired you a moment before reaching around himself, into his satchel. Your breath caught in your chest until he pulled out a cloth full of berries—raspberries. Your favorite. He offered them to you, and you happily obliged.

Soon, you were both eating them and talking about the day, about your time spent apart, about your lives. He told you about his past, most of which you already knew, but he delved into his childhood, his parents—subjects he had hardly breached. Even his son who had passed. He talked about how he was afraid he was turning into his father, how ashamed his mother would be over the man he had become. You countered that he was a good man, that any mother would be proud of who he was despite all he went through. He argued that he could never escape his past, no matter how good he tried to be. That his son was killed by the same type of man he was. You shut that down quickly, saying he would never kill a child. Then his words became slow and strained, explaining how terrified he was of starting a life with you. How scared he was of losing you too. That no matter how far the two of you went, his past would always catch up to him. You just shook your head, the guilt written across his face crushing you. Then told him simply life was too short to worry with that. That you would rather have him and lose him than not have him at all. He went quiet then. And you let him be, berries long since eaten, sun sinking lower. You let him wage war within himself, decide who he wanted to be. No one could make that decision but him.

After long enough that the sun was beginning its final descent, his hand found the back of your head, and he pulled you to him in a kiss. One hard, heart-felt, emotion-filled kiss. He started taking your breath away, leaning into you. But just as quickly as that passion had flared, he stopped, pulling back, breathing heavy. Holding your face in his hands.

“I love you.”

His eyes met yours. And what you found lying within them made you smile. He had made up his mind.

“I love you,” you answered. Nothing on this earth truer.

He rose. Frozen with sudden nerves, you just watched him as he looked down at the horses, his expression clouded like he was making up his mind. Then he looked at you and offered you his hand.

“I have an idea.”

You took it without asking for more, though your curiosity was burning with the unanswered question. When will he do it?

Once you were on your feet, he turned and whistled for his horse. You did the same, both mounts running up the rocky hillside in response. They navigated the loose shale well and were soon greeting you with ears pricked.

Arthur rolled up his bedroll, the place you had sat lacking any evidence you had been here. It seemed strange—such a perfect place for Arthur to ask you to spend the rest of your life with him. But he hadn’t and was instead tying his bedroll down on his horse’s back, smiling at some unknown thought.

“I want to show you something,” he said, turning to you. “Will you ride with me?”

What you wanted to ask was how far. Instead you answered truthfully, “Of course.” And you mounted without hesitation, your curiosity making you smile, especially when it came in the form of this man’s fondness for you.

Soon you were back on the trail, having headed back down the mountain then west. The path slowly turned north, beautiful in the late-day sun. It was going higher up and rockier still, treacherous if not for the well-minded horses below you. Then Arthur was once again straying off the path when it flattened out, taking his mount into the grass that had grown up between the rock despite itself.

Then you caught sight of the view.

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until Arthur turned his horse, looking back at you with a smile. “You coming or what?”

“Arthur, this is…” Stunning. Absolutely stunning. The entire country seemed to lay out before you, the height of the land making you the tallest thing on earth.

“I know,” he said, dismounting. “Come on.” And when you swung off your horse too, he walked over and took your hand, still facing you as he said, “You didn’t think I’d lead you on some wild goose chase without a view, did you?”

“Where we were before was a view,” you said. “This is something else.”

You let him lead you onward with a smile, closer to the edge of the mountain, toward where the sky stretched into endless day. You could see Emerald Ranch, all of the heartlands, even a bit of Valentine. So far south you could just make out the lake that looked to be more of an ocean from here.

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

“How’d you come upon this place?” you asked, turning to him. Though he had already been looking at you, his soft smile breaking over you in its endearment.

“Did some traveling around these parts a few years back. Believe it or not, there used to be some sort of monk or some other crazy who sat at that cliff edge all day, taking it all in,” he said, gesturing to where the mountain ended and the sky began. “So I guess you have him to thank for introducing me to the view.”

“I have you to thank for this,” you said softly, stepping forward and letting Arthur’s hand drop. You walked all the way to the edge. This was worth filling page after page of your journal with. If you had known about it sooner, it would be what covered Arthur’s shotgun stock. It was so vast and powerful, you could feel your heart racing with it. Enough to make a person ponder their small existence. Unlike anything you’d ever seen. And when you turned to tell Arthur so, he was kneeling.

Your mind stopped turning. Stopped working entirely.

He was down on one knee, looking up at you like you held all the love in the world. In love with you. He held something small and shiny between his fingers.

“Y/N,” he started gently, his voice shot through with care. He held up the ring, a small, gold thing. You had thought before that a ring didn’t matter, that you would marry him without one in a heartbeat. While that still held, seeing the small band now with its tiny, sparkling gem—your favorite color…

“I have loved you for as long as I’ve known you.” You felt tears fill your eyes for the way that he said it. Raw.

“You’re the only person I want to spend every day with. The rest of my life with. In fact it…scares the hell out of me how much I like you.” He smiled as he said it, and you let out a laugh through your tears.

“So, Y/N Y/L/N…” He looked you straight in the eye. “Would you do me the honor of marryin’ me?”

There was no question in you. Not a shred of doubt. In a blink, you were falling to your knees before him and grabbing his face and kissing him and saying, “Yes,” over and over, kissing the word into his mouth. He just let you, kissing you back. And when you finally broke away to look into his eyes, he was pulling your left hand toward him, placing the ring on your finger with a look so proud that your chest tightened with it. He just admired it a moment, that ring on your hand.

Then he met your eye and smiled wide, muttering, “Looks like you’re stuck with me now,” before tackling you backward in a grinning kiss.

You were both laughing into each other’s mouths, high on the feeling of mutual love. Of belonging to each other. And when he rose up onto his palms above you, grinning down as he told you he loved you again, you took his face in your newly-ringed hand.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.”

His eyes skipped between yours, his grin contagious. “Y/N Morgan. I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.” And he was on you again, kissing your breath away, happy like you had never seen him.

Yours.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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khruschevshoe · 4 months

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OFMD Critique: Jim & Olu, Screentime Quality & Quantity Issues, and Fandom Engagement

It is kind of insane to me that post-Season-1 of OFMD, the tags for Jim Jimenez and Oluwande Boodhari were almost as strong as the ones for Stede and Ed. Like, scrolling back on tumblr, I'm hit by the sheer amount of content posted for them. The fanart. The gifs. The meta. The sheer anticipation of what might come next for them.

(Now, this might just be because I first started looking at the fandom a year in, but I did my best to look at time stamps and how far things were spread out over time for them.)

Now, only a month and a half out from the finale...that flood has dried up to a trickle, if that. There is very little Jim/Olu content, or (more interesting in my own opinion, at least), very little content of them individually. There was plenty when the season was airing, but now? Not so much.

This is not to say that there is no content at all- I am an absolute fan of the fanfic writers, artists, meta-makers, and gifmakers who still contribute to the tag. The QUALITY is still great! It's the QUANTITY that fascinates me.

Because I think it comes back to both the lack of payoff for the rich character writing for these two post-Season 1 AND the butchering of what they did get.

If you read my past metas for these two characters, you'll find my critique of the fact that late-season Jim doesn't feel like Jim at all, and that Olu throughout ALL OF SEASON TWO doesn't feel like Olu, but rather like the writers dumbed him down into the "himbo" role on the show just to have the badass woman x himbo dynamic with him and Zheng Yi Sao (and I am an admitted lover of said dynamic, but not when you strip one of the few emotionally intelligent, clever, logical characters on the show of his intellect and jam him into the role rather than, idk, choosing one of the actual himbos on the show and putting him into that role...wait a second. The writers already HAD the himbo x badass dynamic with Spanish Jackie and the Stede. Is that literally the only way they could figure out how to write a F/M dynamic this season?).

Also, if you pull out all of the Jim/Olu pre-reunion build up (I see you, deleted scene in the Republic of Pirates where Pete and Olu get to pine after Lucius & Jim and talk about how desperate they are to get back to them), have their reunion be rather anticlimatic, and then don't let them have any real kissing/hugging/even emotional intimacy for the rest of the season...I can see why the tag has gotten to the point it has.

A cursory glance at the Blackbonnet/Gentlebeard tags shows that at least half of the tag is just writing fix-it fics for the season, but they are at least ENGAGING with canon because they were given a lot of material (some might argue too much material, as their screentime was often VERY overbalanced as opposed to the rest, and contrary to what some believe, Season 1 WAS an ensemble show, not just the Stede/Ed show) to work with and sort through. Jim and Olu were not given that in Season 2, and thus the amount of material that those in the tag got to pick through and use was either miniscule or felt OOC in nature. So the investment in the characters and ship has rather gone down, which is sad, because post Season 1 these two had my FAVORITE dynamic on the show.

What is the point of this meta? Idk, it's just a thing I've noticed and that has fascinated me. Watching this fandom from both inside and outside has led to noticing some rather interesting patterns/responses to writing that I thought someone else might be interested in.

#jim jimenez #oluwande boodhari #jim x oluwande #tealoranges #meta #analysis #ofmd #ofmd critical #ofmd meta #i know it feels like i'm ragging on the zheng/olu ship #and i appreciate those who do ship it #but the way it handles both characters really just gives me the personal ick #fandom analysis #also just realized while writing this that the jackie x swede and olu x zheng ship dynamics are the same and that's just strange to me #because olu and the swede are specifically set up in season 1 as being almost opposite characters #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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melrosing · 5 months

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I just find so much of the whole Lyanna Rhaegar thing so interesting. And its something I've explored more in my fanfics (that I've not really posted). But it's really weird to me that so many people's take away was that they were starcrossed lovers when... Rhaegar was like 23 (idk, an adult), married with a kid and Lyanna was a 15 yo. regardless of many factors, Rhaegar was still in the wrong in kidnapping her (no matter how willing of a victim she was). I totally buy that they thought their love story was that of starcrossed lovers.

also I love Ned having a complicated relationship with Brandon. I'm a sucker for Ned/Cat, and it's always strange to think that had things gone right she would've married Brandon. Like, it must be weird to look at the family you love and know you wouldn't have any of it if your brother (and to some extent sister) hadn't died.

Anyways, love the ending of season 1! I've found the whole thing super fun!

Yeah, I talked a bit about how I see Rhaegar and Lyanna here - like I'm sure they felt like star-crossed lovers, and GRRM the Shakespeare fanatic has certainly incorporated a handful of Romeo & Juliet tropes into their story. But they're also a lot more complicated than that. I can't disregard Lyanna's age, I can't disregard Rhaegar's obsession with prophecy and how that may have played a part in his pursuit of Lyanna (and his pursuit of a child from her body), and I can't disregard how he treats Elia and their children.

And people do minimise the affront to Elia which is really irritating to me, like as you can see per my sparknotes thing I don't believe that Elia ever came to love Rhaegar - I think at best she may have thought in the early days she was lucky to have such a worthy match, but that there's otherwise no suggestion they were close or even had any especial rapport. So, fine - it was a political match and not a love match - so if either of them privately committed adultery, that would be one thing.

But humiliating Elia in front of virtually all of Westeros by making a show of disregarding her, when she is either pregnant with his child or has just given birth to his child... and then later leaving her and their two young children in the charge of a teenager and a pyromaniac??? like sorry no i'm just not having it babes. it's not on

And yeah I definitely like the idea of Brandon and Ned having a kind of spiky relationship! I think Ned loved his brother but I can imagine there were things he disliked about him. And that Brandon could be quite callous towards Ned, treating him a bit like a doormat, condescending to him etc, and not even realising he's doing it because Ned's feelings hardly register with him.

It would kind of make Ned's close friendship with Robert more interesting, because I think Brandon was probably a lot like Robert - but here's a version of his brother who has time for him and jokes with him and confides in him etc etc. So it was easier to look past Robert's foibles and failings.

But then obviously Ned would feel a lot of guilt for having resented his brother once Brandon is gone (and Brandon dies proving how much he truly values his family), and for having inherited everything he was meant to have. It makes me think again of Jon as like a twisted outlet of penance for Ned. like he would always have cared for and protected Jon for Lyanna, yet part of him thinks he deserves Catelyn's resentment and the judgement of society that comes with Jon, but for own private guilt.

anyway thanks so much for reading they're really fun to write! working on plotting out the next bunch tonight....

#ned stark #brandon stark #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #elia martell #asoiaf #sparknotes robert's rebellion

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roseverdict · 5 months

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Writing Commissions Open!

Hey howdy hey, guess who's broke and whose brain has latched on to the idea of getting a bike or a trike to get places other than the one (1) coffee shop in walking distance!

YEP. I need to open commissions.

However, I do have at least one thing going for me- I'm told I'm fairly good at writing things! Fanfic things, at least. While I'm not dumb enough to outright go "hey, pay me to write fanfiction," I figure I can at least point out some fanfics I've written that seem to have gone over well as examples of my work, since that's most of what I've got for proof of my skills.

x x

x x x

x x

I'd show more, but Tumblr won't let me add more images, and even these fought me Tooth And Nail when I was trying to format them properly. Truly a functioning website.

Hopefully these kind of give an idea of the vibes I'm strongest with, too. Pricing and rules will be under the cut. I do have a target I'm trying to reach here, but depending on how well this goes, I might end up keeping commissions open indefinitely. We'll see. :D

DM me if you're interested!

Things I'm Comfortable Writing:

Original Storylines (Brief primer on the world/characters I'll be writing with will be required)

Things like the pieces shown on my AO3 account

OCs

Y/N-style pieces (both with and without the actual usage of "Y/N")

Mild Romance

Gore/Severe Injury

Body Horror

Whump

Look, if it's in the Danny Phantom phandom and basically nowhere else, I'm probably just fine writing it, despite its intensity xD

Things I Will Not Write:

Smut. There's no shame in enjoying it, I just. Don't.

Incest. Absolutely NONE. Even leaving aside the whole debate about whether or not people should ship incest ships, I would not be able to enjoy writing it, which would make the resulting work of low quality, which would be a huge waste of time for everyone involved.

Pedophilia- specifically, ships with a minor and an adult multiple years their senior. See above. 17yo x 18yo is pushing it, but depending on the circumstances, I might allow it. They aren't exactly in completely different phases of life there. However, I'm in my 20s and don't particularly want to think about or write about kids the age of my youngest brother dating people my age or older, you feel me?

Bigotry presented to the reader as a positive thing. I'm not gonna write your favorite heroic character declaring OOC that minorities are terrible people. If you want something from the POV of a character meant to be terrible, such as someone like Fire Lord Ozai in AtLA, however, I may be willing to write it.

I reserve the right to refuse any commission and not have to explain why. Person-to-person, though, this will likely only come up if someone tries to commission something that crosses these lines and refuses to acknowledge such.

Payment: 5¢ USD per word. This works out to…

$12.50 for 250 words

$25 for 500 words

$50 for 1K words

and so on.

I'll need half the payment up front as a deposit, then the rest upon completion. If, for whatever reason, I fail to write the commission, you will be refunded in full.

If you pay me for a given number of words, I will do my best to stick to it. I will make sure you at least get your money's worth, but if I just can't quite fit the writing into the given limit, I won't charge you for the extra words. Call it 100 words or so of wiggle room.

A commission for a fic 1K or larger that runs 100 words or less over the intended length will not cost extra

A commission for a fic between 500 and 999 words that runs 50 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic 499 words or below that runs 25 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic that has enough going on to run over that limit will result in me contacting you to ask for either a scaled-down plot or payment for the extra writing.

I will not consider calling a commission complete until I can hit the target wordcount at minimum.

If it should happen that I just can't make a scene stretch to the full wordcount, but you still want to keep what is written, the words that were not written will be refunded.

#writing commissions #writing comms open #id in alt text #atla #rottmnt #tmnt #gravity falls #gf #msa #mystery skulls animated #ninjago #steven universe #steven universe: future #animator vs animation #ava/m #sticks #su #suf #trike saga

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shadowbends · 1 year

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DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

It’s me again, folks. Do you enjoy good fanfic? We’re reaching the end of the line, but I’m here to hook you up! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the last of three and focuses on longfic in the fandom, with a word count reaching anywhere over 15,000 words. You’ll find a variety of fic here, from novellas to full-blown novels—some complete, but many still ongoing! Though it may be heresy on the streets of New York, this is the list you want when you’re craving something really thick to sink your teeth into: a sit-down experience exploding with flavor. Don’t have time for that, actually? Then consider checking out my previous rec lists as well!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

With all of that said, it’s time for the recs. Let’s dig in!

Quick note: On previous lists, I separated the recs by the general time period they took place in. I’m not going to that here, largely because—uh. Well. Nearly all of them are post-movie! This fandom’s sure been active in the last couple of months, huh? Given that, I’ll be sorting them by a broader method, but yes. If you’ve not seen the movie, this is your warning that spoilers abound in the recs below.

➤ ➤ ➤ CANON COMPLIANT

The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose

57,262 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)

Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort

It would’ve been easier to say what he was feeling, but he honestly didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure why, either. He knew his brothers would understand and comfort him and be there if he wanted them to be. Hell, Donnie’s surprise sleepover and everyone showing up for it in the living room had been proof of that.

Yet he still couldn’t do it. He’d tried to talk to Donnie and the pain on his brother’s face had been enough to make him never want to speak about things ever again. He didn’t want them to hurt the way he did; he wanted them to be okay and normal and happy.

You know they aren’t happy. Why do you keep pretending to be fine when the others aren’t either?

Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his knees as he pulled himself into an even tighter ball. He wanted to go into his shell as much as possible, but at the same time, a searing energy was making his legs feel like he could run or swim for miles. He could just go and go and go until he collapsed.

Maybe… maybe that'll help.

Set a few months after the movie, Leo struggles with the long recovery time needed for his injuries to heal, both physical and mental. Unable to talk about it, he turns to unhealthy coping methods instead. The rest of the family is doing no better from the fallout of the invasion, however, with each of their own stresses mounting the longer things go unaddressed. That is until Chapter 8, when things come to a head...

There are a lot of post-movie recovery fics out there, each one unique. The Aftermath’s hallmark has to be in its slowburn foreshadowing, and excellent character writing. Throughout many chapters, we get a glimpse into the heads of just about every beloved character the series has to offer, including April and Casey Jr. Little clues to what’s going to go wrong are set up early on, but just like the characters, I was blind to how serious of a turn things were about to take until the problem finally reared its head. This fic does a good job of showing how important it is to talk to one another, even if it’s hard.

Aftershocks by Katiemonz, McBethins, octolingkiera, theashemarie, and this_kills_the_man

153,543 words, 12/15 chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Family Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“Good game,” Leo said to Donnie, smiling at Mikey in the same sly way as before.

“Thank you, Leonardo, but as I’ve said Uno is—”

“But you still lost,” Leo continued. He swept the cards up and began to straighten them for another shuffle.

“Second place is hardly—”

“Honorary title,” Leo cut in again. “Mikey won, so we owe him.”

“Owe him what? I have—”

“Keep your money, Don. In this game we’re dealing in secrets.”

“Secrets.”

“Yeah, specifically what’s up in that brilliant, big head of yours after all that Krang shit. C’mon. You owe him one secret.”

Picking up from the end of the invasion but spanning the weeks after, the day’s been won, but no one came out of the Krang’s attack completely unscathed. There’s a lot of trauma to unpack here—unfortunately, talking about it is the last thing just about anyone in the family wants to do.

Another recovery fic, Aftershocks is unique for being a story told from five perspectives (the boys and April), as written by five different authors. As the brothers avoid each other, each arc’s events end up having quite the different take depending on whose POV you’re currently following, even in moments where the same scene is being retold. Truly an ensemble fic that focuses on everyone’s trauma, I’ve especially enjoyed that April was included. As the longest fic on this list, Aftershocks is heavy on introspection and exposition, but the characterization always manages to shine through in the details. I especially love the scene I quoted above; “Trauma Uno” is totally a concept I could see the boys coming up with.

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx

47,202 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Ensemble

Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Crossover

"I need to find my brothers," Raph mumbles. "That's if they're even here."

"And then head back to the spirit world."

"It's not the spirit world!"

"Right," Toph grins. "This so-called 'other dimension' without benders."

"There are no benders in my world."

Toph reaches and places a hand on scaled skin. Huge muscles twitch under her palm and the spirit stops. "No benders?"

"Yes!"

She nods. "Like the spirit world."

Raph throws his arms up with a scream and Toph cackles.

For a crossover, this fic requires quite a bit of investment in the second fandom to follow; you’ll want to have seen all of ATLA Season 1, and potentially even Season 2 if you want to keep track of what’s going on, especially for moments when episodes are retold, but with the turtles added in. Additionally, the POV is solely with the ATLA characters. Is this fic worth recommending despite that? Abso-freaking-lutely. This might be one of the most creative crossovers I’ve seen in any fandom, and I’m absolutely hooked.

The plot is deceptively straightforward—the four turtles mysteriously appear in the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender, separated and with no idea where the brothers are. Their arrival changes everything, with the people of the world seeing them as powerful spirits and guardians. I won’t spoil who ends up with who beyond what’s shown in the excerpt, but it paves the way for fascinating political intrigue and character development on all sides, our fave turtles included. Donatello’s position is perhaps the most fascinating for what may come of it, but everyone’s new groupings have been an utter delight. The banter feels charming and wholly in-character, and I can’t wait to read more. This is definitely a fic to keep your eye on, if you’ve not found it already.

Brother Dearest by Wardenov

69,666 words, 22/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Donnie-centric)

Genre: Drama, Sci-Fi, Horror

“You came here looking for answers, weakling, because you messed with powers far beyond your understanding.” “I’m not-” She doesn’t let him continue. “Our brother may be dead, but the glory of our kind is that we are never truly defeated, not as long as our mark remains.” And as if to make her point, she raises a tentacle and delicately touches the glass - tendrils spawning from the point of contact, rapidly expanding across the surface like a frenzied contagion before freezing in place and crumbling under the extreme cold. “We cull the weak and assimilate those worthy, we bestow the blessing of Krang upon those who deserve it. You-” she spits, remaining tentacles scrambling to climb the glass where Donnie stood, “-you have stolen our gift.”

He says nothing.

“But,” she continues, sadistic smile returning, “your transgressions have ensured our survival. Our continued conquest. Whether you like it or not.”

Set a few months after the Krang’s invasion, things have seemingly gone back to normal for the Hamato family. Everyone’s doing their best to get by, and back to familiar routines and hobbies. Donnie, though? His newest project throws all of that into new chaos, showing that no matter how well-meaning, there are some things man (and turtle) was never meant to tamper with.

I’m absolutely feral for this fic, and desperate to impress upon anyone seeing this why they should read it. It might be one of the very best fics the fandom has to offer. Seriously. You want plot and worldbuilding on par with the Season 3 we never got? Exploration of the Hidden City, and the Council of Heads that run it? High stakes, suspense, action, and family drama? Look no further, fam. Brother Dearest has it all, and every character (even Mayhem!) has a big role to play. April’s sleuthing, Mikey further develops his new mystic powers, Leo has some heavy choices to make as leader, and Raph isn’t as home free after the Krang invasion as he thought. Make no mistake, though, the star of this show is Donnie in his unwitting supervillain arc. Will his family be able to save him from himself? Only time and new chapters can tell, but this fic dug its claws into my heart and won’t let go, it’s so good.

Drift and Chemical Reaction by Bronte

26,949 words, 7/7 chapters (split between two fics)

Character Focus: Donatello & Leonardo, Ensemble

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding

"Piña colada?"

"What the—?" Donnie cuts him off before he can finish, cramming a green and yellow striped straw between his teeth. Leo wears some of it, the yellow, smoothie-like drink dribbling down his plastron. "Wait, where did you—what is this?"

Donnie smirks. "Pineapple, coconut, rum. A taste of the tropics."

Leo blinks and glances down apprehensively at the ‘Better Late than Ugly’ mug in his hand. "...does this have alcohol in it?"

"Does this have—pfft, I would never. Do you know who I am? Donatello, upstanding citizen of Manhattan proper?" Donnie barks a laugh, tossing his head back before leveling him with a look. "Of course there is. As the Bard himself said, self-love, my brother, is not so vile a sin as self-neglect."

As two sides of the same story, these fics are being recommended together! Set after the movie, Drift is told from Leonardo’s POV, both during and after leaving the prison dimension, where Chemical Reaction tells the story from Donatello’s POV.

The real charm of this fic, though? It has to be the banter. Reading this, I could totally hear the character’s voices in my head, which was only made better once the piña coladas came in. You think the twins are disasters; just wait until they’re drunk. These fics would be worth reccing on their own for that scene alone, but there’s actually a little bit of plot involved as well as Leo struggles to regain his ninpo, while Donnie... Well, something weird is going on with Donnie. Needless to say, both of these are a great read!

Every Night the Longest Day by ashtreelane

33,731 words, 13/? chapters (last updated 10/27/2022)

Character Focus: Leonardo & Family

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Medical Drama

“What’s wrong, Leo?” Raph asks from where he is curled around him, the snapper’s chin nestled on the top of his head.

“Can’t sleep,” Leo mutters. He smells worry, sudden and sharp, and when he opens his eyes Raph has whipped around to look at Donnie, eyes blown wide, looking for an answer. Donnie is looking at him too, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“We- okay. Raph, don't freak out. This is to be expected, remember?” Donnie is saying, his voice just barely on the wrong side of too calm. He’s freaking out too. Why? What’s happening? Oh, he’s being addressed now, he should probably pay attention.

“Leo, you were cursed six days ago to be unable to fall asleep. Your memory is suffering because of it, but we’re all right here, okay?”

Leo kind of knows what they’re talking about. He remembers it, he remembers that it happened, but the… events are… foggy. What- what had they been talking about?

“What are we talking about?”

When Leo is cursed to be unable to sleep, he and the family must wait for a new moon to break the spell through a ritual. Unfortunately, that new moon is nearly two weeks off. As Leo is forced to stay awake for days on end, his mental and physical condition quickly begins to deteriorate. Through it all, Leo’s family stays by his side to help him through it, beautifully balancing hurt with comfort through the beginning. As the story goes on and Leo’s condition worsens, though... Well. Things aren’t looking good, let’s say.

I have such a soft spot for this fic, though. It’s grown quite popular lately, so many of you reading this list may have already heard it, but there was a point when I was following early on where the author was debating shifting the POV around or sticking with Leo as an unreliable narrator. I was really proud of them for sticking to their guns and going with the latter, and I think it’s paid off in spades. The way the author experiments with formatting styles and missing scenes really makes the fic stand apart from the standard whump setup, and turns it into something akin to low-key psychological horror. If you’re into that sort of thing it’s a lot of fun; even if you’re not, the moments of family bonding peppered throughout the fic are so wholesome, and definitely worth your time.

Fallout by GauntletKnight

50,677 words, 20/? chapters (last updated 11/05/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama

“We are here. We are alive. Raph and Mikey are downstairs. Dad and April and Casey are on the way. You’re alright, Leo. You’re safe. We are all safe. No one is here to hurt you…or us.” There is no special inflection to his voice, but his words are firm, unmoving. Leo shakes for a moment, squeezing Donnie’s hand…and then he blinks, his eyes clear and he tries to take a breath.

Violent coughs wrack his body as he tries to dislodge the blood that had built up from his sobs. Bright red spatters down his front and across Donnie’s hands as he holds onto Leo’s arm. Each breath is like nails on a chalkboard.

Draxum steps in instantly, checking the monitor for vitals. “I’ve gotta get to that punctured lung…or else getting this blood transfusion in him isn’t going to do anything.” He turns to Donnie, holding out plastic gloves, “Can you-”

Leo shakes his head, finally getting a rattling breath into his chest. “N-no…Don’s…not great with this kind of thing. S’ok…he’s so good at everything else he had to leave some for the rest of us.” He smiles up at Donnie like Donnie hung the damn moon and stars, his eyes still shining with painful tears. It’s…a weirdly genuine moment between the two of them…

Donnie doesn’t like it.

Set between the final fight and grabbing a slice in the movie, this fic follows the immediate aftermath of pulling Leo out of the prison dimension with a bit more urgency and attention to everyone’s injuries.

As I’ve said before, every movie recovery fic I’ve found has their hallmark, and I’d say Fallout’s is its heart and emotion. By focusing on the aftermath of the battle where everyone’s stresses are still running high, there’s a lot going on here, and it makes for some tense, but evocative moments. The story is lightly focused on Leo’s mental state especially, but everyone is going through it and as the POV shifts every chapter, each character gets some focus as they work through their injuries and messy feelings. Fallout is very satisfying read, and one I often come back to over and over.

hamartia by Punable

40,364 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 10/30/2022)

Character Focus: Donatello & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

It felt nothing like how he imagined dying would feel.

Donatello was a man of science, so it would have been foolish of him to have not, over the years, devised theories around what results certain situations would generate, what or who they might take out of commission, and what he would need to do personally in order to gain the best possible outcome. He would sometimes note down how he believed these situations might affect him or his brothers, both physically or mentally - he wasn’t an expert on emotions, far from it, but he could at least logically assume that getting, say, struck by lightning (one of his planned-for possibilities) would leave its own traumatic scar on any man or turtle that happened to experience it, so he’d dragged in April for those certain emotional areas and promptly abandoned her as a research partner when she’d told him he was being obsessive. He was not obsessive, just thorough.

He couldn’t help but feel as though some of that research time may have been wasted, though, as he lay on his side, his newest project slash rework shattered into almost unsalvageable pieces on the floor across from him. (And really, that felt almost like the harshest blow - how was anyone except him supposed to salvage that hunk of junk? Was that all that he was leaving behind?)

He felt it had been time wasted, maybe, because dying didn’t feel at all like the soft, slowing breaths of passing peacefully into sleep, or the fast tight gasping of someone going out from a bullet wound. If anything, it felt like he was breathing too deeply, every breath filling his whole body and stretching out every wound and puncture and fracture, oxygen making his head light (or maybe that was the blood loss). He didn’t feel at peace, and he certainly didn’t feel as scared as he thought he should’ve been, as he had read he should have been.

Mostly, it just felt like an inconvenience.

Donnie almost dies, and that’s just the start of this angsty tale. What follows is an interesting exploration of what Donatello thinks of himself and his role in the team, and his family’s growing concerns when he won’t give himself time to recover. Donnie’s brush with death has lasting consequences, and a large part of the fic is dedicated both to how much they affect him and how long he can hide it from his family (and the audience). Once the truth comes out, though? Oof.

The newfound disability is handled well, imo, and you really feel for everyone involved. There’s a lot about mental health that the author just does really well in general, actually. The focus on family and everyone’s concerns for their brother is where this fic really shines, though, and there’s a lot of emotion that hits just right. Basically, the hurt is done so well, I’m looking forward to when we get to more comfort.

i go there with you by bobtheacorn

21,649 words, 15/? chapters (last updated 11/04/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor

"But seriously," Donnie says seriously, brandishing his tablet screen above Mikey's head and pointing at it, "I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you be Very Honest when I ask you to scale your pain using this -" He cuts his eyes toward Raph, who grins. "Emoji Scale. Which dramatization would you say you find the most relatable at the moment?"

"Okay, so defo… this guy," Leo says. He thinks he manages to lift his finger but that's all the juice he's got. "On the… left."

"That would be the thumbs-up emoji, Leo," Raph says cautiously.

"Awww," Mikey gushes, "Is that one because you love us?"

"Hang on," Leo says around another small huff of maybe-laughter, "You… can't prove anything. But also…" He moves his finger again. "Also this guy on the… on the far r-right. Like, for-real for real."

"Oh, the sad-angry-crying emoji, fantastic," Donnie says with a bit more pep, tossing the tablet and turning to Splinter, who's closest to the monitor, "Papa, would you do Leo a huge favor and smash that morphine button, please? Like, right now, immediately."

Set immediately after the invasion. This fic is a series of interconnected one-shots originally written for Whumptober, but by Chapter 9 breaks into its own thing. The whump remains a focus, but it’s tempered by a good dose of comfort and humor as well, which the author is a master of.

If you want a recovery fic after the events of the movie that matches the feeling of the show, i go there with you is the fic to start with. The characterization and banter are spot on, as is the emotional whiplash. All of the characters gets some love and introspection in this one too, which is always fun.

Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! by WayWardWatson

56,238 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Splinter & Family

Genre: Family Bonding, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Splinter turned his attention back to Big Mama, the flirtatious mood from earlier dissipating. “I am calling in your favor.”

It was like he had slapped her with his rat tail with how she reared back in visible disgust. Her fangs clicked in irritation and she scuttled further down, closer to where Splinter was standing. “Remind me, when have I ever owed you a measly-weasly favor?”

“When you misused demon armor for profit that nearly resulted in the end of human and yokai kind alike?” Splinter evenly said. “Oh, and the time I rubbed your feet, all eight of them, when you were on bedrest.”

“I thought that was an act of love.”

“Kindness.” He corrected because his heart hurt too much when she said love. “I was being kind. Though, if you want,” Again, his voice dipped into a purr, splaying out his arms wide in open invitation. “You could be kind enough to give me and my family a free round trip to Japan? I know you can do it.”

More scuttling as a low hiss escaped her maw. “That is a big, dimbly favor to ask.”

“I thought we were calling those acts of lo- kindness?”

“Why,” She drew the word out as she finally reached the bottom and pressed her broach. Suddenly, a swirl of light engulfed Big Mama and, with a whoosh of mystic energy that smelt like nutmeg, he watched as her stature began to diminish. Just as quickly, the light fractured and then separated into small motes of bioluminescent dust, casting a dim, golden glow around them. Now in human form, Big Mama stepped in close enough to touch. “Do you want to go to Japan?”

Without thinking, Splinter’s eyes trailed down then up and he swallowed. His heart was beginning to pick up, but certainly not from fear. He took a moment to gather himself. “My children need a vacation.”

Splinter takes one look at the S2 finale and the movie and decides that’s it, this family needs a break. Deals are made, mystic disguise brooches are acquired, itineraries are made, and with that, the family (including April!) are off on an exciting vacation to Japan! As with all scenarios involving the Hamato Clan, however, nothing goes so simply.

You’re getting so much bang for your buck picking up this fic. A family trip to Japan is charming in and of itself—and the author has done so much research on the country that some passages feels like taking a tour of your own—but this fic actually has a lot going on for it. How they even get to Japan involves some fun mystic worldbuilding, and the cloaking brooches open the door to interesting commentary on body dysphoria. And of course, things take quite a turn when the fam runs into a figure from Splinter’s past who has questions he struggles to answer. A refreshing story with creative ideas, Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! also has an excellent grasp on all of the characters, in and out of vacation mode. It’s a darling read.

odd man out by cosmocrow

22,676 words, 4/? chapters (last updated 10/29/2022)

Character Focus: Future Leonardo & Leonardo, Future Leonardo & Casey, The Hamato Family

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama

“Master Splinter,” he greets, almost impressed by the fact that his voice isn’t wavering like he feared it would. “I’m sorry for barging in– like. Barging into your timeline? I– I can explain.” He really can’t, but that isn’t the point.

Splinter only raises a hand. “Don’t worry, Casey has brought us up to speed.” He turns to deposit the tray onto a cart, before folding his hands into the sleeve of his robe. Leonardo can feel those yellow eyes look him up and down as he straightens up again. Splinter takes a step closer, craning his short neck to be able to look Leonardo in the face. Melancholy dances on his features, but the rat smiles nonetheless.

“Look at you, you’ve gotten so tall, Leonardo.” The soft usage of his name almost makes Leonardo stumble. He hasn’t heard it from his father’s mouth in a long, long time. A familiar burn starts to prickle within his eyes, so he starts blinking in order to quell the itch, pressing his lips together, so his mouth won’t wobble. He isn’t sure why he’s trying – he knows that Splinter knows.

His father always knew everything.

Splinter steps even closer, lifting a hand from within the confines of his sleeves. Like a magnet, Leonardo bends down, so his dad can cup the side of his face. Gently, the old rat rubs his thumb into his cheek, just below his mask, over his red markings. Splinter’s sad little smile falls, and he tugs down the blue mask over Leonardo’s face.

“But,” he says softly, “you look so tired, my son.”

Several months after the movie’s conclusion, a familiar face from Casey’s averted bad future appears, just as everyone else is startling to settle back in. Predictably, this throws everything into confusion.

Tl;dr, Future Leonardo is sent back into the past and has to adjust back to a world sans apocalypse, and the family takes him in with open arms. Things between him and younger Leo are a lot more tenuous, but there’s a resolution early on that feels very true to their personalities—one less sure of himself, and the other who’s learned his lessons the hard way—that resonated strongly with me and made me fall in love with the story. Add to that some genuinely heartwarming moments with the family bonding, and you’re in for a good, if bittersweet time.

Recoil by unorthodoxx

63,236 words, 10/10 chapters

Character Focus: Ensemble

Genre: Action, Team Bonding, Angst, Crossover

“Hey guys,” he yells. “You might want to see this.”

It doesn’t take long for the three of them to spill into his lab. Leo comes in first and drapes himself across the back of Donnie’s chair. “What’s up? You find the secret ingredient to Luenzo’s Pizza yet?”

“No,” Donnie scowls. “They’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox, but it’ll fall soon. They always do. No fellas,” He enlarges the email, “We’ve been invited to a meet-up of sorts.”

Raph’s hand settles heavily on his shoulder as the larger turtle leans in to read. “Dear Genius Built…….Talk about…….agree to meet…..love…”

“IRONMAN!!?!?” Mikey shouts. “THE Ironman wants to meet us!”

“Wow,” Raph whistles. “The Avengers. That’s some top-level hero stuff.”

ROTTMNT crosses over with the MCU! Set in a world where both universes exist in the same setting, this fic takes place after the Krang Invasion, but fairly into the MCU’s history, long before the superheroes have their falling out. So long as you have any familiarity with the first Avengers movie, you’ll be able to follow the story fine, as it’s straightforward: the appearance of the Krang was as abrupt as their defeat, and Tony Stark can’t let sleeping dogs lie. After uncovering the turtles’ involvement, an in-person meeting is arranged to handle the fate of the Krang Key.

Most of this fic is just a fun excuse to let the ROTTMNT characters bounce off the MCU characters, and it’s fun to see who gets along and who doesn’t. That’s the thing I love in particular about this story—the author is true enough to their characterization that not everyone is friends by the end, in a way that makes whole sense. The Avengers are disasters themselves, after all. The plot of handling the key is done exceptionally well too, and there’s a lot of high octane action at the end that’s quite thrilling. If you’re looking for a good time, you’ll fine it in Recoil, and if you enjoyed it, there’s more where that came from! The author has planned out several other stories set later on in the same series, the first of which (where the turtles meet Spiderman) is already out. So keep an eye on that!

this kind of weather by ihaveathingforpink

21,526 words, 2/4 chapters (last updated 09/18/2022)

Character Focus: Leonardo & Michelangelo, Raphael & Donatello, Ensemble

Genre: Action, Hurt/Comfort, Crossover

“Well, if it is business you seek, Krang has a proposition for you. There are two turtles Krang wishes for you to…remove from the board as their tenacity has proven to be as obstructive as it is predictable. For our plans to proceed, it’s too dangerous for either to remain alive.”

Takeshi takes another sip before asking, “Turtles? As in the ninja turtles that reside beneath the city, whom everyone pretends doesn’t exist? The people of New York won’t be pleased if I do anything to harm their heroes.”

“Oh, I want you to do more than simply harm them. First, they need to suffer.”

“Suffering costs extra. I don’t do anything for free.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Yet you said two turtles when, last I checked, there’s four.”

“Ah, yes. They are of little concern to me. Krang only need you to get rid of two, and you must follow Krang's instructions precisely. Otherwise, you will fail. First, you will need to get rid of the little orange one; he may not look like much, but he’s one of the strongest mystic warriors of all time. I suggest you handle this one quickly—he can be quite slippery—but the blue one, Krang implores you to take your time.”

This story has one helluva hook. A surviving Krang puts a hit out on Mikey and Leo, and saying more than that would unfortunately spoil the twist of the first chapter. With just two chapters, though, this story is fascinating and deserves a lot more attention than it’s gotten. It has high stakes, great action, and is an emotional roller coaster that doesn’t let up. It’s also a bit of a crossover, though longstanding fans of the TMNT franchise will recognize these faces right away. That’s right, this is a crossover with Usagi Yojimbo! Besides characters of that series, though, there’s also a lot of familiar faces from previous TMNT series that Rise never got enough time to tackle, like Tiger Claw and Renet.

You can probably guess from the latter’s name that things are about to get timey-wimey up in here, and you’d be correct. There’s an absolutely killer plot at work here, emphasis on the killer, and whether they want to or not the turtles have to take a divide and conquer approach to it while at one of their lowest points. Seriously, check this one out.

Under Pressure by ParvumAutmaton

21,560 words, 4/4 chapters

Character Focus: The Boys & April

Genre: Suspense, Angst

“You know April, right?” The voice on the other end of the line asked. “You’re one of her gamer friends?”

Donnie blinked. The voice sounded familiar but that didn’t help him at the unholy hour where way too late morphed into way too early.

“And you are?”

“Her mother. Please, did she spend the night at your place?”

“No, she did not,” Donnie answered, forcing himself upright, his exhaustion evaporating with that question. “I believe she was planning on some extracurricular club activity yesterday afternoon. So we weren’t planning on seeing her.”

“I don’t suppose you know which club?”

“No, I do not.”

“Ok,” The waver Donnie heard in her voice implied that it wasn’t. “You will let me know if April gets in touch?”

“Of course Ms. O’Neil.”

The call ended.

Donnie stared at his phone.

One of the few fics on this list not set after the movie, this story takes place after the S2 finale on a dismal day when April goes missing. Investigating her disappearance leads the boys to a van and a lake, and an exploration on the dangers of cave diving.

As you can guess from that description, this fic has quite the creative setup that’s both atmospheric and suspenseful. Be sure to heed the tags because it does get dark, but it’s still a great read, and the turtles’ determination to find their sister pulls at the heartstrings.

➤ ➤ ➤ CANON DIVERGENT

big sister by Darth_Sunny

18,090 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 10/24/2022)

Character Focus: April & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

April O’Neil wasn’t an only child anymore. She had four younger brothers, whom she loved with all her heart, and who she’d burned the world down for if anything were to happen to them. She’d fight every ancient mystic evil the world would throw at her if it meant keeping them safe. And if she couldn’t be there for them at the moment, she’d be there for them in the aftermath. She was their big sister, their oldest and only sister. : was the self-proclaimed protector, but even he needed someone to protect him and to help protect their younger brothers.

So that’s why, when she watched the portal close up, slicing the Technodrome in half, stopping the Kraang for good, knowing that he was trapped back in that prison dimension, April O’Neil felt her heart break into hundreds, thousands, millions of little pieces.

This one’s a fic following April’s perspective on the end of the invasion, from Leo’s sacrifice, to picking up Casey, and reuniting with the boys. It mostly follows canon, but there is a fairly major change revealed partway through that makes it canon divergent from the movie’s ending. It’s unclear if other changes will follow, but just in case it’s being slotted in the canon divergent category all the same.

That’s not the focus, though. No, this fic is centered squarely on April and her relationship with the rest of the Hamato Clan. I love that it impresses how much April is a part of the family, and that the boys aren’t just her friends but her brothers, and that their pain is her pain. Watching the aftermath of the invasion unfold from her perspective is a fresh and evocative take.

Like Father Like Son by eternalglitch

132,982 words, 25/? chapters (last updated 11/02/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)

Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

“Here, Boss!” Huginn darted back across the room, wings straining, as he carried a very… familiar…

“Uh, wait up, no,” Leo said, eyeing the blue object as Huginn dropped it into Draxum’s waiting hand. “Do you even know where that thing’s been? Have you properly washed it at least?”

Draxum’s roots suddenly shift, dragging Leo upright until he’s forced to stand on his tip-toes to have any sort of purchase. “I happened to have had it offered to me by the mutant that you call Meat Sweats,” Draxum said, admiring the collar (for that’s what it actually was, even if Leo had never called it that when it was just a gift from his brother) in the light. “He was quite helpful once I mentioned what I wanted to use it for.” Draxum started to approach, the collar held aloft.

“So, what,” Leo bit out. “You’re gonna stop me from saying my one-liners? Big whoop.”

“I think you’ll find,” Draxum coolly said. “That this has been modified to do so much more than that.”

This fic needs no introduction. In fact, there’s a high chance some of you heard of LFLS before they even saw Rise; I’ve heard of people who only watched the show just so they could read it! It’s the most popular fic in the fandom for a reason. If that’s scared you off, though, or if you’ve avoided it for other reasons, let me tell you why you should give it a chance.

The fic takes some of Rise’s best villains and settings, and explores the darker sides of them (do heed the warnings in the tags). Leo goes through the absolute wringer, but the effect his disappearance has on his family plays a central part of the story as well, with all of the brothers getting full blown introspection and character arcs. Donnie’s in particular hurts me. The emotions are high and the plot is juicy, with some of the tightest writing the fandom has to offer, including intelligent plans and dialogue. As far as hurt/comfort goes, this is definitely a slow burn with a lot of angst, but the author has promised a happy ending. Between that and consistent updates (it’s been going strong for two years), what more could you ask for?

Three Days to Live by Werepirechick

93,992 words, 13/13 chapters

Character Focus: April & The Boys

Genre: Cyberpunk, Action, Human AU

The heiress and former target lowers her hands, keeping them placidly by her sides. “K-tech is a vicious, unrelenting company,” she says, glasses gleaming in the room’s light as she lifts her chin in defiance. “The people who run it are the same. They don’t let people get away, and they don’t leave loose ends. You were all on their shit list as much as I am, the second you signed on.”

Leo shifts his stance, tightening his grip on his gun. “So what are you proposing?” he asks coolly.

“Like y’all said. I’m the heiress to the company. In three days I’m going to walk into a courtroom, sign the papers that frees K-tech from the control of my guardian, and walk out the richest, most powerful person in North America.” O’Neil smiles bitterly. “That is, if I can survive the next seventy-two hours. That’s where you come in.”

“You want us to guard you,” Raph states.

Ohhh, this fic is an absolute gem. You can’t say no to a good Human AU in this fandom to start, but to top it off with a cyberpunk twist? Trust me, this is a match made in heaven. The plot kicks off when the boys—hitmen in this universe—are hired to take out April O’Neil, an heiress to one of the world’s largest tech companies. When things take a turn, she makes them a deal: protect her for three days instead, and she’ll make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.

The plot that follows is filled with danger, intrigue, and high octane action. The world is incredibly thought out and immersive, and makes for a great way to work ROTTMNT’s mystic powers into a new genre. The banter, though. If you’ve read any of Werepirechick’s other fics, you’d know that’s their specialty, and it’s no different here in Three Days to Live. While on the run from the powers seeking to destroy her, the boys and April bond and their friendship is perfection. The series also blends in characters from other iterations of the franchise, but it’s not too distracting, and for the most part remains firmly rooted in the Rise style. Do yourself a favor, and give this one a read!

Posted: 11/06/2022

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfic recs #the fics got longer #thus so did my commentary

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formulinos · 1 year

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HYPERFIXATION CORNER | NOW, THAT'S WHAT I CALL LATE STAGE FORMULA 1!

theydies and gentlemen of f1blr, i regret to inform you guys that the rumours are true: we live in a society. liberty media's tenure with FOM has opened a can of worms that ushered in what i've been calling lately "late stage formula 1". But the thing is, what the fuck would that be, exactly? so, as a good scholar, i took it to myself to study more about late stage capitalism in order to truly understand the term and see if my application made any sense. in today's hyperfixation corner, we'll get deeper than necessary on the microcosm of capitalism that f1 has become. and then we will get depressed. but maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out.

note: this has 7k words AND at times gets quite dense in terms of sociological theory, but i truly did my best to make it palatable. still, this is not going to be everyone's cup of tea and might get boring. if you still believe this is your thing, i just ask you to please hang on tight and see it through to the end as i truly feel everything ties up together rather logically.

PART I: THE DAWN OF LATE STAGE FORMULA 1

the basics of late stage capitalism

the application in late stage formula 1

PART II: YOU CAN'T RUN AWAY - FORMULA 1 AND CAPITALIST REALISM

mark fisher's capitalist realism

the indycar situation

was there ever class consciousness in f1?

the illusion of abu dhabi

THE DAWN OF LATE STAGE FORMULA 1

1. The Basics of Late Stage Capitalism

For a term we see being used daily on several outlets, you'd be surprised to find out that there isn't a rigid definition. In fact, depending on who you talk to, you'll get widely different explanations, since there's basically "academia" late capitalism and "normie" late capitalism. I'll brush up those two for you guys real quick because, at this point, might as well.

The term was coined by a German scholar Werner Sombart. At the time, just at the start of the XX century, he was a HUGE Marx/Engels stan. He had all of their photocards, but beyond that, he also took to himself to write his lifetime's defining work, which is basically an expanded universe fanfic to what Marx and Engels wrote, tbh. In 1902, Sombart started to publish "Der moderne Kapitalismus" (Modern Capitalism), comprised of three volumes in which he discussed four stages of capitalism: proto-capitalism, related to the appearance of capitalist-like tendencies in feudal society until it became proper capitalism + early capitalism, which was basically seen pre-industrial revolution; high capitalism, which came in with the industrial revolution and ended with WWI; and at last, late capitalism, which was what they were living at the time of the third book release (1927), that is, post world wars world. That's all very chill, but given that later on Sombart drank the kool aid and became a Nazi, he can fuck off.

Thank God, two other dudes came in to take the expression from Sombart. Ernest Mandel and Fredric Jameson are two scholars who, although published their works in different times, were responsible for widespreading the term. Mandel published Late Capitalism in 1975, marking it as the era of economic expansion post WWII that, in his view, would reach its peak in the 70s since the economy was starting to have frequent crises. Jameson, however, dropped his book, Postmodernism or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, 16 years later, talking about the then-current world marked by globalisation and the expansion of capitalism to culture (arts, lifestyle, etc.).

All of this is to say that, today, if you ask an economist or a political scientist, they will most likely talk to you either about this time progression or straight out use Fredric Jameson's definition. Which, tbh, works, since in a way Jameson touches on the expansion of capitalism to daily life, something that goes in common with the contemporary POV on late capitalism.

We legit live in hell rn, no big deal

If you go on Reddit or watch corecore edits on tiktok, then there is a sense of dread and irony that's unique to the internet's definition of late capitalism. Since it's a relatively recent thing, there isn't a concrete way to define it, so I'll just use the one given by Ian Neves (Brazilian Historian) in his video about Capitalist Realism because I think it's the one that manages to summarise it the best: Late Stage Capitalism is the stage of capitalism in which the contradictions of capitalism are so evident that they become explicit to the population. That is, it is so in your face that it stops being campy. It's just tacky.

In the video, Neves further explains that one of the big deals about capitalism is that it sells itself as a contradiction-free system, but in our current time we aren't quite fooled anymore. A few examples of this would be multinationals like Amazon opening factories in underdeveloped places like Tijuana, under the guise of wanting to "help develop the country" but placing themselves close to a slum, clearly showing their intentions of exploitation; You can also think of the "art" market of NFTs, which are nothing more than numbers stored in a computer - capitalism touts itself as being a creator of value capable of meeting society's needs, yet there is no need met with NFTs besides value generation for the sake of value generation and pure speculation. Anyway, there are several examples and whatever you think is probably Late Stage Capitalism.

2. The Application in Late Stage Formula 1

Having done this deep dive, imagine my face when I realised that it turns out I didn't just pull "Late Stage F1" out of my ass. I was gooped! Gooped, I tell you. See, if late stage capitalism is now defined as the era in which capitalism's contradictions are explicit, then Late Stage F1 can be easily perceived as the stage of the sport in which its contradictions are no longer capable of being ignored by the fans either. In that sense, it does feel that this is the perfect way to synthesise the bitterness that a large part of the fandom tastes in their mouths.

note: I'm not stating that pre-Liberty Media Formula 1 was perfect. God forbid I become one of the purist fans talking about the good ole days. Bernie Ecclestone wasn't shit and in a way, some of our issues nowadays are inherited from his tenure as the head of FOM. But, at the same time, the sport managed to sell itself as a luxury hobby while still being satisfying and accessible, in a way or another, to the non-wealthy fans. You couldn't see as many contradictions as now because the image of the sport was more or less aligned with what you actually saw, good and bad.

The same, unfortunately, can't be said nowadays. To illustrate my point, let's take a look at FOM's Corporate Strategic plan, released in 2020. The idea, in their words, is "to deliver a more popular, more exciting, and sustainable sport, which pushes the boundaries whilst protecting our heritage.", supported by six axes:

Race – Increase competitiveness and unpredictability on track

Engage – Produce an amazing spectacle for fans on and off track

Perform – Generate value to our shareholders

Sustain – Deliver sustainable and efficient operations

Collaborate – Create win-win relationships with our partners

Empower – Build an engaged and high-performing workforce

Besides Perform and Collaborate, arguably the two most capitalistic inclined pillars, it's incredibly easy to find counter-arguments to illustrate how this is just corporate talk and doesn't actually reflect on the sport. [cracks fingers] So, let's get it:

✷ Increase competitiveness and unpredictability on track: Ok, sure, they try with this one as it is the core of the sport - after all, this is what the regulations' tweaks are for. But you just need a quick overview of the Andretti situation to see that competitiveness only serves the structure to a certain point. After all, although Andretti managed to get the backing of a manufacturer (General Motors, in the form of Cadillac) which, in theory is enough to make it a more legitimate entry less likely to Caterham levels of bankruptcy, the vibes are still somehow off from camp F1.

Michael and Mario Andretti on a pit wall during something that WASN'T a Formula 1 race

This all boils down to the revenue split at the end of the season between the teams and FOM: once you remove the bonuses that are thrown around, roughly 50% of what's left goes to FOM, and the other 50% are the championship prize money (don't quote me on these percentages actually, I'm not sure if it's exactly 50/50) . If Andretti gets in, then either the teams' share gets diluted as a consequence of an extra mouth to be fed, either FOM needs to adjust its own reward to increase the total prize money and make sure that all teams still get the same liquid value for positions 1-10.

Now, Andretti are willing to pay the 200 million dollars "anti-dillution" fee that's to be distributed to the already existing teams as a regulated "sorry we're gonna have to split the prize money in 11 from now on". Yet, instead of welcoming the bid, teams have lobbied for an increase to that fee to 600 millions, a cheap tactic to either get more money or to keep Andretti out. On one hand, Christian Horner has made it clear, from the teams' perspective it is about the money. On the other hand, Stefano Domenecali and FOM are hot and cold, stating that he's happy Andretti are interested but mad that they're calling out the bureaucracy of the process.

The key aspect here is that F1 no longer needs an American team to reinforce their position in the United States market as they did back in 2014 when Haas formalised their entrance. In fact, they don't even need Haas to assert themselves as American anymore as they have three GPs lined up regardless of the team's national fanbase. This way, in FOM's optics, they have nothing to gain from Andretti. In a way, the teams are basically doing what's expected of them, but bottomline is the fact that FOM is fucking mental in adopting the same perspective instead of planning how an extra entry of such magnitude as Andretti-Cadillac could pay itself with time.

✷ Produce an amazing spectacle for fans on and off track: See, I guess you can call me a bit of an old school fan, because when it comes to Formula 1, I WANT TO SEE THE FUCKING CARS RUN ON THE FUCKING TRACK. I suppose many of you are aligned with me on that one.

Using the 2021 numbers as reference since we didn't get the 2022 report yet, the average global audience is around 70.3 million. Given that the biggest venues can only hold 400k attendants tops, the rest of those 70m fans are watching the GPs from home. They are also most likely having to pay for it, since F1TV's dominion keeps increasing. While, all credit is due, F1TV offers a much better pay-per-view experience than many other sports have, with a very rich archive and incredible coverage of each race weekend, some of these prices per country are a legit effort for a fan to make.

From the Reddit post, an example of the price disparity between countries. F1TV is priced accordingly to the purchasing power that each country has.

Could be worse as many other fans are held hostage by Sky Sports, which is only available with a much more expensive £34.99 subscription to UK and Ireland fans, who don't even have F1TV as an alternative option. Given that Sky also has the airing rights in Germany and Italy, the fact is that F1's free to air presence has been lowering over the years (a problem that has been discussed in 2016 and represented a decrease in viewership at the time, mitigated by the Liberty Media efforts). But F1 really can't be arsed in considering a full return to free-to-air TV given the current times and so, the idea is to basically adapt to the pay TV market as much as possible and to retain free-to-air positions in specific markets. And if you, individually, don't have the money to pay for it and there is no free-to-air alternative for you, tough titties.

When it comes to actually attending a Grand Prix though, it's becoming equally harder to do it. The F1destinations 2023 rank shows that there has been an average 56% increase on the average 3-day ticket price in relation to 2019, costing roughly 508 dollars. In terms of affordability, these tickets can represent from under 10% to over 50% of the average monthly net wage for the countries hosting the GP. If it was just the tickets that would be easy peasy, but the fact is most of the times attendance includes the need for housing, transportation, food, etc. What this means is that it's fucking expensive, ok?

The GPs are getting more and more packed, but for how long?

Again, the sport has always been elitist, but there was for a good while a relative balance between your average fan who managed to save up and get a GA ticket with the rich wealthy fans at the paddock drinking their champagne. Nowadays, even people who were regular attendees of their home gps have tapped out due to being priced out. Plus, even the new GPs added to the calendar already come with a big disclaimer "FOR MONEY ONLY" as, for instance, the cheapest tickets for Las Vegas cost 500 bucks but the real average price for the three days is $1,667.

So, if they are in fact producing a great spectacle for fans, it's becoming more and more hard for said fans to actually be able to see it. Whatever.

✷ Deliver sustainable and efficient operations: F1 made a pledge in 2020 to improve their relationship to Mother Nature by 2030, which includes: Net Zero carbon, sustainably-fuelled, hybrid power units, efficient and low/zero carbon logistics & travel, 100% renewably powered facilities and credible carbon sequestration. The whole pdf has a bunch of lovely lines about their grandiose plans, but these are somewhat easily dragged to filth by anyone who understands just a tiny bit of eco-sustainability. One of these people is David Bott, chief innovation officer for the Society of Chemical Industry*.

Bott explains well the situation with the fuel. F1 cars currently use E10, which is a mix of gasoline (+ the likely additives that gasoline already has) with 10% ethanol, a sustainable fuel. The thing is, gasoline is more popular than ethanol for cars for a reason: if you take 1L of gasoline and 1L of ethanol, when you burn them, gasoline will give you way more energy. According to Bott, this means that the new E10 fuel is not as potent as gasoline would be, so you end up needing to use more of it anyway and in the grand scheme of emissions, that means fuck all.

F1's carbon footprint per sector. Does something feel funny to you?

Still, as F1 itself showed in their sustainability report back in 2020, the power unit emissions are less than 1% of the total emissions during a season. As you'd imagine, the thick of it really lies in logistics (45%, transportation of all equipment) and business travel (27,7%, transportation+hotels of f1 staff). Drivers and TPs carpooling with their private jets might help a little bit, but it's evident that F1 doesn't give a single shit about improving those numbers given that the calendar has expanded to 23 races, three of them in the same country but in completely different times of the year, which means that the back and forth of airplanes between continents will correspond to a 15% increase to emissions in relation to last year. According to Paolo Feser, If they were to at least organise the calendar in a sensible manner, they could cut these emissions by half, but such a calendar would go against their contracts with Bahrain and Abu Dhabi for the season's opener (till 2036) and finale (till 2030), respectively. When you consider the pledge's deadline of 2030, it's pretty evident that they'll say they made it because of the drop-in fuel in development, but logistics are far removed from the rest of it.

✷ Build an engaged, high-performing workforce: TALKING OF THE 23 RACE CALENDAR, the biggest impact is obviously on the workforce. Race weekends are gruelling enough for the drivers, who have stated through the GPDA their concerns of burnout. But then, you also have to consider the garage side, who are used to a minimum of 12-hour shifts during a race weekend, having to adapt to more frequent double and triple headers. As an anonymous mechanic said:

"Then, when you are coming home on a Monday morning or Monday evening, and you haven't slept properly in days, that then affects how you feel in your personal time. It means your relationships can suffer – either because you are agitated with your partners or you've got other things on your mind. And that's not fair on you nor them. You are not just mentally fatigued, you are physically drained as well. As the season wears on, there are a hell of a lot of injuries happening. The teams do have doctors and physios to help look after you, but the easiest solution is to pump you with painkillers to just keep you going. There is no way in a million years that a regular doctor would give you what we are given to keep us going."

The psychological strain adds to the anxiety of creating the perfect car and work culture has become increasingly tense. To add to the tension, the cost cap negatively reflected on the workforce as many teams, including RBR and Mercedes, had to fire people to adapt to it. Those who stay have to be reminded that they are "so lucky" to still have a job and if "they don't like it, they can go" (as Tost said in 2021) but the situation is overall so demotivating that yeah, people are quitting motorsports overall or changing categories. To sum up, the engagement and performance of the workforce isn't out of love for the sport, but fear and pressure.

To wrap this with a golden bow, I could never forget the #WeRaceAsOne initiative, still touted by F1 as a campaign that really wants to bring awareness and impact important problems in our society. When it was created in 2020, the main focuses were COVID-19 and social inequalities, but given that they banned T-shirts in podiums in 2020 after Lewis Hamilton protested the death of Breonna Taylor by the hands of US pigs, they clearly weren't comfortable in really tackling the inequality issue. Therefore, they changed the goals of the campaign for a very corporate "Sustainability, Diversity and Inclusion & Community" axis, whatever the hell they mean with that. It's good that they can focus on it all they want, as the FIA has banned drivers from political statements during race weekend procedures. Moreover, while the boycott of the Russian Grand Prix is completely justifiable, it still feels empty once you consider they raced in Saudi Arabia while a factory mere miles away from the track was bombed, also as an act of war.

To sum up, the fact is that late stage Formula 1 is here to stay and we have to deal with all of the sport's contradictions. The same way that late capitalism does not mean that the end of capitalism is near, late stage f1 means nothing as its popularity has been rising more and more, and at the current rate, the abandonment of the older fans means jackshit as more people show up on social media and are willing to pay what's necessary to either watch it or attend races. The question that might linger, in fact, is if F1 has reached the point of inevitability at last?

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YOU CAN'T RUN AWAY - FORMULA 1 AND CAPITALIST REALISM

1. Mark Fisher's Capitalist Realism

Even when we're faced with the existence of a late stage Formula 1, whether when it's concretely laid down or just a feeling deep down, many of us still continue to engage with it. As much as we complain about it, the current panorama does show an expansion of the sport, which can only happen as well because a good chunk of the old school fans remain. The question is, why do we insist on watching a sport when we know shit is that bad? Is it solely because of affectionate ties to a team, a driver or even f1 itself? Sure, these factors contribute to it, but what if I told you that it is also because current F1 has finally managed to sink into our collective consciousnesses as inevitable?

To understand what I'm trying to say here, we need to look first at the big picture. That is, if we have been treating F1 as a microcosm of capitalism up to this point, it's now necessary to step back and face Capital itself. In order to do this, I want to introduce to you guys the concept of capitalist realism.

Say hello to Mark Fisher (1968-2017), an incredible mind gone too soon

While, just like late stage capitalism, "capitalist realism" was an umbrella term used for a myriad of different meanings, we don't have to contextualise its timeline. Rather than that, we can jump straight to Mark Fisher's defining work, "Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?", published in 2009. In it, Fisher defines it as "the widespread sense that not only is capitalism the only viable political and economic system, but also that it is now impossible even to imagine a coherent alternative to it". Putting it in simpler terms, it's easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.

With capital realism, Fisher no longer talks just about the influence of capitalism at a socio-economic level, but also how it bled into the cultural and psychological spheres (scary!!!!!!!). All of this culminates in apolitical attitude towards capitalism: since we can't escape the system because things are like this, all we can do, realistically, is to adapt to it and try to minimise its effects instead of actually fighting them.

Having that in mind, I ask you guys: can you imagine the demise of F1? We often hear about it separating from the FIA, but similarly to capitalist realism, Formula 1 losing its world championship status (as close to its end of the world as it gets) feels more likely that a massive restructuring of the category or it shutting down for good. Similarly, fans have adopted an "it is what it is" point of view towards the sport as we all know what FOM and the FIA are like and we don't have, supposedly, the power to change anything, we just have to suck on whatever they propose to us.

Stefano Domenicali (FOM CEO) and Mohammed bin Sulayem (president of the FIA), joined in unholy matrimony

Now, capitalist realism didn't show up out of the blue. According to Fisher, neoliberalism was the mother of capitalist realism. This is because its campaign in the 80s and 90s with regan and maggie thatcher (names in lowercase because I don't respect them) was successful in gaslighting people into thinking that it wasn't necessarily perfect, but it was the only approach of government rooted in reality. Once it was implemented, the next step was to consolidate it, which happened thanks to two factors: the end of the soviet union and the transition to post-fordism. I know this seems crackheaded and with no relation to F1, but give me a chance pls!

Trigger warning: the many faces of neoliberalism

During the Cold War, there was a concrete antagonist to capitalism in the shape of the USSR*. With its demise, this role of a real opposition to it was completely obliterated, allowing for capitalism to expand however it pleased without anything to contest it. Similarly, maybe F1's biggest triumph in these last two decades - and this is why I said at the top that Bernie wasn't shit and the problem about late stage F1 had its roots further back - is that it successfully managed to free itself from the sole category that threatened its popularity: Indy Car.

*note: by stating this, there is absolutely no value judgement. the statement is not about the ussr being a problematic fave or a communist hell that needed to be abolished. it was just a physical entity that asserted itself as a possible alternative to capitalism. by its physical existence, it allowed for public consciousness to understand that, if the ussr was a possible alternative to capitalism, then there might as well be plenty of others. kindly remember that the ussr was quite oppressive and countless people and countries suffered on their hands, while also understanding that for this particular purpose, it did its job.

2. The IndyCar Situation

The IndyCar World Series as we know it was established in 1979, with CART (Championship Auto Racing Teams) as the governing body behind it. The similarities between F1 and IndyCar went beyond the cars (although the Indys were a tad less sophisticated than F1s): the creation of CART itself was based on Bernie's FOCA model (television rights, sponsorships, etc).

IndyCar's Indianapolis 500, 1992. Not bad in terms of attendance!

From the 80s, its popularity grew in America, with them even inheriting venues that originally held grand prix, like Long Beach. Still, no one was really intimidated by them as F1's presence in the US, albeit messy with several different events attempted, was constant during that period. However, shit went down in the next decade, when Formula 1 was shut down by the organisers of the US Grand Prix at Phoenix right in 1991. From that point, it would take 9 years for F1 to get back, at the heart of American racing, Indianapolis. Hold this information.

Once F1 disappeared from 'Murica, IndyCar thrived, at least for a while. CART had managed to join ACCUS (Automobile Competition Committee for the United States), who are affiliated to the FIA, which made it possible for drivers to race in Indy without losing their super licenses. Soon, there was a migration from foreign drivers to IndyCar, and that included people from F1, such as Emerson Fittipaldi. Once that happened, the sky became the limit for Indy and they started to race outside of the US. By 1993, Nigel Mansell had dropped F1 after a rift with Williams and decided to go drive for Newman/Haas at IndyCar instead.

Nigel Mansell and teammate Mario Andretti. Oh how I want Nigel, ngl.

note: the motherfucker demolished his competition, won IndyCar and is still the only person to be, technically, F1 and IndyCar champion at the same time.

At this point, some people will say Bernie Ecclestone wasn't bothered, but he hadn't even gotten over losing the Long Beach GP to CART back in 84. You know Bernie, I know Bernie, we all know Bernie. HE WAS MAD!!!! At the same time, NASCAR was rising in popularity like never before, causing a certain rivalry between the categories over who would take over the hearts of all the petrol head americans.

Enter Tony George, then head of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and chairman at CART. Tony believed that CART was getting lost in the game and ignoring Motorsport Traditions by racing in venues that weren't ovals. Since Georgy was annoying as fuck, CART booted him from the board of directors, which was one of the most stupid decisions given that he owned the track that literally gave the name to their championship. IndyCar's whole thing was the Indianapolis 500, right? "So fuck you too," Tony George cried while being thrown away from the CART offices by security "You don't want me? Then you don't get to race the Indy 500 anymore!".

Well, it didn't happen exactly like that. Instead, Tony George created a separate category called Indy Racing League that would be dedicated exclusively to ovals and get to be the owner of the Indy 500 from 96 onwards. The original IndyCar series changed its name to CART and Indy racing in America became fractured. Just to be clear, IRL did allow an 8 CART car limit to compete at Indy 500, but CART decided to boycott the event instead. This worked for some time, and CART still managed to make do with their reserves (they even offered to buy F1 in 1998) but soon these started to dry out as sponsors dropped the series and teams started breaking the boycott to race in Indy 500, eventually by the 2000s completely defecting to IRL. In 2004, CART filed for bankruptcy and got bought out, living as a zombie series until 2008 when IRL bought it and reunified them. At this point, the damage was done as NASCAR had taken over in popularity and F1 was back since 2000, racing the IMS.

Tony and Bernie, BFFs 5eva

Oh yeah, haven't you heard? 1998 also marked the year where it was announced by Bernie that F1 would come back to the United States, racing at the holy land of Indianapolis herself. Sounds sketchy? You're not the one to think that, as both Jacques Villeneuve (1995 IndyCar champion 1995) and Gordon Kirby (journalist, US correspondent for Autosport 1973-2004) have stated that Bernald, alongside NASCAR boss Bill France, basically whispered sweet nothings in Tony George's ear to get him to act a fool. Although it took several more years for F1 to finally sink its teeth into the United States in an effective manner, the main competition was out before they could even expand further.

It was up to Formula 1 then to expand without anything to stop it, as we can see in the many calendar changes we've had over the years. Even further, since there is no antagonist, this has also allowed F1 to turn its sights to the feeder system, creating its own "preferred" path that, with the super license points system basically make it harder for drivers who are outside of the F1 feeder series bubble to make it to F1 (as we've even seen recently with Colton Herta). Same thing is happening to the W Series, which for lack of funds wasn't able to finish their 2022 season even though they were promoted to an F1 support championship, racing. While Formula 1 did not offer to help them or tried to integrate them properly in the feeder series ladder, they have just recently announced F1 Academy, their own initiative for female drivers, placed officially just under Formula 3 with a direct link. That's great for the female drivers, but incredibly fucked up at the same time.

3. Was There Ever Class Consciousness in F1?

Yeah, so the whole lack of opposition didn't help on an external basis, but there is also an internal factor that cannot be ignored and it's linked to post-Fordist work structure. In Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher cites a study by Richard Sennett called "The Corrosion of Character: The Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism". In it, Sennett states:

"Where formerly workers could acquire a single set of skills and expect to progress upwards through a rigid organizational hierarchy, now they are required to periodically re-skill as they move from institution to institution, from role to role. As the organization of work is decentralized, with lateral networks replacing pyramidal hierarchies, a premium is put on ‘flexibility’.[...] This flexibility was defined by a deregulation of Capital and labor, with the workforce being casualized (with an increasing number of workers employed on a temporary basis), and outsourced."

Translating this, instead of becoming a specialist on something, you become a jack of all trades without any job stability. In the F1 world, this is seen not only in drivers changing teams and getting sacked of the category altogether, but also in the poaching of talent between teams and the frequent internal restructurations. Ian Neves says that post-Fordism was key in the establishment of capital realism because its natural consequence is the individualisation of work, which leads to the weakening of trade unions and ultimately, the mining of class consciousness.

As one would expect, there isn't a trade union that looks after all F1 workers. Instead, most of the engineers, mechanics and other staff are subject to the unions of the countries the factories are located at (for instance, Alpine is protected by the "collective convention of metallurgical engineers and workers").Therefore, as much as the personnel is against work conditions and calendar expansion, it's much more difficult for them to unite and rally against it as they have been segmented.

Ferrari team photo, 2022. Together, but divided nevertheless

This is particularly fucky when you consider the existence of the GPDA. The Grand Prix Drivers' Association is a trade union that, historically, has made itself heard in delicate situations where drivers needed to claim their rights and fight for their safety. Unfortunately, this comes with a side effect that reinforces a difference between drivers from the rest of the F1 crew. While they are absolutely right and the GPDA should exist as a trade union regardless of the existence of a larger one encompassing all workers, the fact is that the illusion that drivers are in the status quo of the sport, and not subject to it, remains.

Look, as much as they are in a privileged spot and reap all its benefits, the fact is they do not own the cars they run - well, at least not most of the time [stares at the Strolls]. They still rely on the teams that own the structure and the backing of sponsors, that is, the means of production, to work. Most of the time, when they retire from F1, they still tend to race in other categories or find side quests. While I have no doubt that drivers are super passionate for racing and you can't completely quit it, how much are we sure that this is also not partially motivated by the desire to make sure they are still able to afford the lifestyle they had as Formula 1 drivers? Marx was clear, baby, the drivers are as much the proletariat as anyone else. By separating them from the rest of the structure and maintaining the post-fordist work structure for the rest of the teams, class consciousness inside the paddock is close to none and it helps to consolidate F1's status as an almighty being.

4. The Illusion of Abu Dhabi

Here's the thing: if "realism" is used as an argument for maintenance of the current state of affairs, by conforming to what's in theory "realistic", then the best way to threaten it, according to Fisher, is if you manage to expose the cracks of said "realism". This should be able to work because, get this, there is a difference between what's Real and what's reality.

Again, sorry but I'm gonna get theoretical here. However, when you consider that so much of what we're talking about here directly relates to a psychological sphere, you can't not add some psychiatric theory into this. When you look at it from the point of view of Jacques Lacan (French psychiatrist who spit some bars), reality is constituted not of what's actually Real, but of social conventions and symbolism. The Real itself is unrepresentable and even traumatic at times, and you can only perceive it when you look at the inconsistencies of reality, that aims to suppress it! What the fuck!!!!

It's super easy, you just have to show that the whole framework is inconsistent!

Except it never works that way.

Going back AGAIN to capitalist realism, take a look at the 2008 Global Financial Crisis. I don't understand much about the mechanisms of the economy (and I am right not to, as this is all made up by weird people), but even I know that the Lehman Brothers collapse resulted in a worldwide clusterfuck that saw many lose their lifetime of savings. After that point, the ripple effect was so severe that companies were falling like flies and it was up to State interventions to halt things. Maybe the greatest example of late stage capitalism, this was the key point to explicit the greatest contradiction of neoliberalism: they sell themselves as a system above the State, however they needed the State to save it, which means they don't really want to abolish State, just to occupy it to their own desires.

The absurd numbers of the financial crisis in the US.

So, you have your reality cracked, you can look at the Real and see the inconsistencies of capitalism laid bare in front of all of us. This should have been enough for neoliberalism/capitalism to go out of style completely right? As you can see if you look out the window, however, we're still living in a capitalist society. Then what happened? The crises ended up reinforcing the status of capitalism precisely through the bank bail-outs as the States doubled down on the whole "realistic" thing because they had no alternative and saw these companies as "too big to fail". What we see today, then, is an economical model that clearly fallible, yet remains because it's perceived as a default. Mark's words, not mine.

But this is in the field of Capital. It's not like, in the F1 bubble, anything of the genre has ever happened.

Yup.

I guess you could say there have been moments in Formula 1 that came close to exposing these inconsistencies but didn't, like crashgate, spygate or the whole 1989 championship debacle. Still, these didn't expose anything because:

1) F1 didn't sell itself at the time of those events the same way it does now

2) All of these could be easily pinned to individuals instead of the whole structure of F1 itself - even Senna put 1989 on the back of Balestre only, instead of the entire FIA.

Abu Dhabi, however, wasn't looked at the same way given that it's still such a controversial topic and was the point of rupture to many fans with the category.This is because the series of events that led to Abu Dhabi, touted as the biggest showdown since 1974 and followed it afterwards managed to create the circumstances to break the veil between the reality (F1 as the greatest, most spontaneous motorsport modality in the world) and showed the Real (the newfound need to push narratives, consequence of the transition from sport to entertainment encouraged by Liberty Media ran-FOM, enabled by the FIA and accelerated by Drive to Survive).

The animosity between TeamLH and the Orange Army lingers to this day. However, regardless of its peak at the time, the controversy of the actions taken at the Grand Prix did not provoke just an outcry amongst Hamilton fans, but to a good chunk of neutral parties as well. We're still here though, so how did Formula 1 manage to escape from it? Simple, they also reinforced their position by the immediate actions of the FIA, as Jean Todt demanded a review of what happened. In its swiftness to respond, the World Motor Sport Council, that is, the one institution that could bail-out F1, states they would take action to understand what happened and avoid any problems in the next season.

The bail-out, in this sense, isn't monetary, but institutional as they place their focus on the "relevant parties" instead of the major structure itself. From their side, FOM avoided taking responsibility for their role, as Domenecali said right after that "We have already spoken with the president [Mohammed bin Sulayem, who had just assumed his role] . We talked about the priorities he will have to face, and there are many.". This landed as well, as the common reaction was to demand the FIA changes and penalties, blaming Michael Masi for "trying to balance the need for spectacle with the rulebook" instead of addressing the root causes of the need for spectacle itself.

Masi had it coming, but he sure made it easy from the FIA and FOM

In that sense, the reinforcement also comes in the sense of self-criticism, since it leads to something called "interpassivity", a concept developed by Robert Pfaller: when the actors in Formula 1 take it to themselves to discuss and criticise the sport themselves, they are performing our opposite stance for the fans, who then are able to continue to consume it as they please. This is possible as well because we take a "cynical distance" from the sport and thus become passive spectators. This way, as long as we say to ourselves "oh, F1 is rotten nowadays", that's all we need as a cop-out to keep watching it. This is not just us being hypocrites, per se, but legit one of capitalist ideology as Zizek puts it that we overvalue our internal beliefs in detriment of our external actions - literally the "there is no ethical consumption in capitalism" of it all. It's inevitable we replicate this behaviour when it comes to watching Formula 1.

So, once we get all of the way, the question remains: is there anything that can be done to truly change Formula 1? It's not just a matter of direct action, as what we're talking about here is a result of a concealed mulit-layered internal organisation that acts on an abstract level. As much as we can bitch and moan, fan protests and team appeals are direct action and thus, easily countered by the FOM/FIA complex. Hell, these two fight all the time and yet any crisis is easily fixed, as just the mere possibility of F1 separating from the FIA was enough to get bin Sulayem to step away from day to day administration. On one hand, FOM doesn't want to truly separate from the FIA, they just want to occupy the FIA themselves. On the other hand, the FIA needs F1 to stay so that they can continue to assert themselves as the big dawgs in motorsports. This is how they manage to walk hand in hand and compromise over their own interests instead of the interests of the sport itself.

Maybe, this triumph of FOM is directly related to the biggest weapon of capital realism: the individualisation of the being, placing their responsibility and expectations solely on the self instead of the greater structure. This can be seen in situations such as the climate change approach, focused way more on our need to recycle than the large corporations' impact on the environment. Another example is the approach of mental health, that most of the times places on your brain alone the responsibility for your disorders instead of considering as well the influence of social conditions.

In the context of F1, the individualisation is exacerbated by the nature of the competition. Everyone is fighting for their own interests, and in a way, that has always been the goal. Still, the excessive encouragement of rivalries and toxicity - not only in the fandom, but in the paddock itself - serves the role of segmentation very well and helps FOM to continue pushing through F1 as they please. It all boils down to the lack of class consciousness between ALL the personnel, who could adopt strategic approaches that directly affect FOM's directives, turning what was abstract into a concrete issue and thus making it possible to take direct action. (tbh many of these issues can be addressed if capitalism itself is fought but then again, the impact of that on the vroom vrooms can be quite extreme and maybe that's asking too much of a sport dominated by car manufacturers and such).

In the role of fans, we both reflect the inner machinations of Formula 1 and feed it. Thus, the same way that all the staff should unite, so should we. While when it comes to track action many of us are rivals, and some of the drivers legit make it hard to stand with them, fact is the real enemy at the current date is FOM - even if Liberty Media sells it, the next administration will most likely double down on their approach. Our best hope isn't to boycott F1, but to encourage the union of its staff and show that while we welcome the technical evolutions, the main goal must be preserved. Food for thought, really. In the meantime, thank you for surviving till the end! As always, screw you guys, I'm going home!

In the role of fans, we both reflect the inner machinations of Formula 1 and feed it. Thus, the same way that all the staff should unite, so should we. While when it comes to track action many of us are rivals, and some of the drivers legit make it hard to stand with them, fact is the real enemy at the current date is FOM - even if Liberty Media sells it, the next administration will most likely double down on their approach. They were the ones that created the conditions for Abu Dhabi to happen, they are the ones that benefit the most from the rifts. Our best hope isn't to boycott F1, but to encourage the union of its staff and show that while we welcome the technical evolutions, the main goal must be preserved. Food for thought, really. In the meantime, thank you for surviving till the end! As always, screw you guys, I'm going home!

#hyperfixation corner #late stage capitalism #capitalist realism #cheers you guys good luck to those who read it #most normal ana formulinos write-up moment

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