M-more Horus stuff? Fluff or smut? I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for more Horus related content crumbs.
Author’s note: Using your request to spread sugar daddy Horus propaganda, sorry.
Relationships: Horus/Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, I was like this close to putting daddy kink in this you all better be fucking glad I held back and go full cringe, Fingering, Clothed sex
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the same thing twice.”
Fulgrim’s sonorous voice surprises you, turning around to see him standing not far behind you with his arms crossed and cape flowing gently behind him. This is only the third or fourth time you've even seen him, but before you have a chance to politely greet him, he continues speaking.
“Horus likes to spoil his little Luna Wolf princess, doesn’t he?”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead just shirk a bit under Fulgrim's gaze, but you know he's not exactly wrong. You shuffle a bit in your shoes in front of the primarch and attempt to say something that won't insult Horus, nor insult Fulgrim's prodding. You know from Horus himself that the primarch is often quite guilty of doing so, if only of entertainment's sake.
“Perhaps he does get a bit overzealous at times. He does it to make up for how long he’s absent, I think.” Fulgrim gives a sweet but knowing smirk.
“How cute. I’m almost jealous.”
It's hard to tell if the primarch is being demeaning towards Horus, or if he finds the Horus' behavior towards his- as Fulgrim put it - Luna Wolf princess genuinely endearing or at least amusing. Though you don't quite figure it out, as the primarch departs with a curt but friendly enough goodbye, and lets you continue walking to Horus’ private study in silence.
Once you reach it and pass a few Luna Wolves along the way, you reach the ones guarding the door to his innermost study and stop. They tilt their heads downward ever so slightly to look at you, and you nearly stutter from the feeling of being their main focus for a moment.
“Am I allowed in to see him?”
You always speak to his men politely, as often times more casual speech tends to confuse Astartes. Jokes and slang can often turn into entire explanations or accidental offenses, if you aren't careful.
“You’re allowed in any room of Lord Horus’ wing unless he specifically states you’re not, my lady.” You nod and walk past them, the door closing shut behind you just as you catch sight of your primarch.
“Horus?”
At his massive writing desk Horus turns to face you, face perking to a smile as he beckons you closer with a hand. Once you are, he can easily pick you up and sit you on the desk to be at level with him, though when he stands, the height difference is one again drastic; Though not as much as if you were on your own feet.
Despite your shining, smiling face at seeing him again Horus can tell something is a bit off with you, and calls it out moments after stealing a small kiss from your lips.
"Is something wrong?" He says, face soft but a bit sterner than it was in preparation for if this issue is something he has to fix.
“Oh, I saw Lord Fulgrim. He seems to have noticed just how many dresses you’ve given me…” You leave out the myriad of other things he's given you- jewelry, perfumes and other delicate goods - and Horus rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry about him. He has no right to talk about such a thing. I’m sure he’s gathered more than enough opulence to make us all pale in comparison. He’s just throwing stones and enjoys the gossip.” Horus’ hands rest on your waist, though he shifts them occasionally to brush up and down your sides. He doesn't have to do so much, as his hands are already large enough to cover a good portion of your midsection.
“I don’t want to you want for even a single thing. It’s the least I can do for the love you give me.” Horus gives a slightly more mischievous and darker smile, as his thumbs brush over your ribs.
“And, is it so wrong for a man to want to see his beloved draped in all the things he can gift her?”
You can't help but heat up under his gaze, feeling his hands pull away from you only to land on your knees and drift upward. He's taking the fabric of your dress up with him, his eyes watching you intently. He always manages to pin you under his stare with so little effort.
"You look so beautiful, I can't help it."
His hands reach the tops of your thighs, pushing your dress over your hips and revealing your underwear. He pulls the middle to the side with ease, and dares to chuckle at the sigh you let out as his fingers brush over your cunt. He kisses the top of your head.
“My men will be here in a few minutes and I must leave. Let me give you something to think about until I return.”
His fingers slip between your folds and press firmly against you, causing you to let out a soft noise as he toys with you. He can feel you getting wetter and wetter as his fingers circle your clit and you bite the inside of your cheek, before leaning forward as you feel his middle finger prod at your entrance. Your hands grip the loose fabric he's wearing for the gentle chill of Terra, wrinkling underneath your tiny fingers.
He slowly but firmly pushes his way inside of you and listens, feeling you writhe underneath him as he fills you. You can feel him curl his finger inside of you, teasing the most sensitive parts hidden deep.
“Horus…” You mumble, feeling his other hand grip your thigh and pull on it to spread you legs apart again after you'd attempted to close them. He holds it gently, but firm to offer no escape.
“We should hurry, little one.”
Your hands pull on his clothing, attempting to hold on as he looms partly over you. He’s watching his hand between your legs the entire time, listening to the sounds that even quiet still make him warm as he begins slips a second finger inside of you. You legs flex against him trying to move, feeling that momentary stretch before it becomes that full feeling you're oh so used to. You're leaking all over his hand, slick and shining same as your upper thighs and the tabletop beneath you. He feels his cock twitch in his trousers as your hips push towards him, desperate for more of anything he'll give you.
He wishes he had more time. He knows now he’ll be frustrated and on edge for awhile until his desire fades long enough that he can forget about it, until he returns. Once he does, he can selfishly indulge in you until you have nothing left to give, and lay tired in his bed adorned only the most beautiful things he can gift you.
Large fingers curling inside of you, filling you close to but not quite as much as his cock would, had he the time.
“Lord Horus? The Vengeful Spirit is ready to depart.”
The primarch doesn’t remove his eyes from the way his hand stays firmly between your thighs, fingers and palm slick. He responds to his men outside the door without missing a beat, or seeming even the slightest bit distracted as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You muffle your voice on his chest, panting as your warm forehead leans against him.
“I will be there in a moment. Go on ahead and board.”
His sons are quiet for a moment you notice, before responding and leaving. You can barely hear it through the sound of your heart in your ears as Horus leans down to speak; Hot breath against the shell of your ear.
They can all wait a bit longer. I won’t leave you wanting, not yet.”
You’re sure he can feel the heat on your face, radiating off your skin as your hips push towards him. You know he can smell you as well, the sweet saccharine scent of your body begging for him. Your cunt tightens around him as he thrusts his fingers into you just that little bit rougher, faster, trying to pull your orgasm from you.
He can barely feel the death grip you have on his clothes, but the way your small hands grip the fabric he finds adorable. You're so unbelievably small in comparison to him, it always stirs something in him when it's particularly obvious.
The latest time was when he'd offered you his cloak during a cold chill, and the way the thick fabric had swallowed your form while you watched his Luna Wolves train had you underneath him getting your tiny cunt abused in his quarters mere hours later.
The wet sounds he pulls from you echo in the massive room as he forces his fingers as deep as they can inside of you, burying to the figurative hilt. It makes your toes curl in your shoes, and jaw shake from how tight it is. You're so close, your stomach is in knots as you desperately dance along that edge.
Your hands leave his clothing to grip his wrist, pulling on it until his palm begins brushing against your clit. It isn’t long until you’re cumming on his hand, thighs trying fruitlessly to crush it as you cry out. Horus merely chuckles, as if your sensitivity and want is amusing to him.
“Good girl, finally.”
Your lips slightly part as you try to catch your breath, only letting out a groan at the overstimulated jolt as he pulls his fingers from you and casts you in that empty, sore ache.
Wiping his hand on the fabric of his trousers he leans close to you and steals a kiss from your lips, feeling your flushed skin on his. When he pulls away he has a smile, but you can see the darkened lust in his eyes; He's so close to you that when he shifts, you can feel his cock brush against your knee through his trousers.
“I will return soon, my love. I promise. Be ready for me then.”
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call me when you get this
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends, but even the best of friends have secrets.
WC: 3K
Warnings: Story told through voicemails, mild angst, coming out to each other, secret feelings, friends to lovers, kissing, swearing, light angst very brief, references to Robin and Gareth, drunk shenangians, idiots in love, set in 1991 but it doesn't matter too much, no mention of the Upside Down stuff
A/N: I have like three other WIP's happening and zero time but this idea was given to me by the beloved @tinytalkingtina in the discord and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Ao3 link here for those interested!
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 12:52am
GARETH hi yes I know it’s late but HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE ALBUM YET? I need all of your thoughts immediately. Like, all of them. Every thought. Dude, my head is spinning. Ohhh, man. Kurt is a fuckin’ legend. Woooow. Okay, I could talk about this shit for like three hours but I don’t want to run out your tape so just call me back when you get this and then talk to me about it for three hours. Can I come over a little early tomorrow? Yeah, I’m gonna come over a little early tomorrow. Maybe a lot early. Alright, catch ya then.
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 3:40pm
Uhh, ha. Hey Steve. Thiiiis is Eddie, obviously. I, uh, I just realized I called you in the middle of the night last night on accident, and - uhh, sorry about that. It was just - ah, screw it. You know what I am. Byeeeeee-
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 7:30pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Eds, how many times do I have to tell you to change your answering machine message? What if, like, the president calls? Okay, maybe not the president. But an employer or something. Or, like, what if you give the girl of your dreams your number and she calls you and hears THAT? Food for thought. Uhh, anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t even home when you called me. Robin was, though, and so you’ll probably hear her wrath next time you come over for movie night. Good luck with that. Oh, wait. You’re at a show tonight, right? Damn. I swear I’ll make the next one. Okay, bye, dickhead.
Wednesday, September 25th, 1991, 1:12pm
“You have reached Steve Harrington. Figured I should say that in case whoever is calling me thinks they’re calling someone else. Anyway, I’m busy right now so I’ll call you back. Bye!”
Ha, ha. You are so funny, Harrington. You ever think about being a stand-up comedian? Jesus, and you say I’M the dramatic one. Uhh, the show last night went well, by the way. Not that you were THERE. Seriously, what kind of friend even are you? I’m hurt, Steve. I’m hurt. Anyway, see you tomorrow for movie night. I get to pick. It’s only fair, right?
Thursday, September 27th, 1991, 4pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
You’re not picking the goddamn movie. No way. Last time you did that we got scarred for life. Also, um. I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about me and your shows. I didn’t realize you - uhh, you’re probably joking. Forget I said anything, and see you tonight. I’m at work right now, so I’m gonna rent some backup options just in case.
Sunday, September 30th, 1991, 2pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Dustin says you were being a total dick last night. Good. That shrimp deserves to be humbled every once in a while. Your answering machine message still sucks, by the way, and yeah I’m gonna tell you every time.
Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:21pm
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Steve. My guy. I can’t believe you make fun of me for my bullshit message all the time and now you’ve created and advertised THAT abomination?? I’m - wow. I forgot why I even called.
Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:23pm
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Okay, I remember now. I know you said you have that date tomorrow with Heidi or Melissa or Samantha or whoever is currently obsessed with you, but I really do want you at the show if you can make it. You can bring her, if you want. Actually, it might be a good test. If she hates metal, she fails. I only want the best suitors for you, Steve Harrington. Be there or I’ll be REALLY annoying about it forever.
Tuesday, October 2nd, 1991, 11:45pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Hey, it’s Steve. So, uh - I saw your show tonight. You’re probably not home yet, but I don’t know where you are. Cuz like, I tried to find you after your set but you disappeared. I hope everything’s okay. You sounded great, by the way. I mean, you all did. Remember me when you’re playing at the Garden? Oh also, I heard like three women talk about how badly they wanted you, so…I dunno, just figured you’d like to hear that. Hey, maybe you got with one of them and that’s why you’re not answering. In that case, hope you’re having fun? Okay, now it’s weird. Bye, Eds.
Wednesday, October 3rd, 12:54am
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Steeeeeeeeeeeve. You absolute buffoon. You beautiful, oblivious man. Why’dya think I wanted you there’so badly t’night, Steve? T’wasn’t for the girls. Ha, girls. Yeah, okay. I may have had several alcoholic beverages, Steve-o, but you’re still the dumbass. Cuz you’d have to be an absolute idiot t’think I have any interest in those women. ‘Specially yours. Your women, I mean. Sandyyyyy. Ugh, she was perfect for you, Harrington. Juuuust perfect. So perfect I didn’t wanna stick around to see any more of it. I hope you two have beautiful children. Name one after me, will you? Uhhhh I think I might puke. So, I’m gonna go, but - but do you get what I’m saying? Do you - do you get it? Tell me you get it. Steve, I - Oh, hey Gareth. Do you wanna talk to Steve? Wait why are you - Dude, I’m FINE. I’m handling it! Stop! Gareth, don’t hang up the phone, I haven’t -!
Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 9:05am
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Dude, did you fucking break into our apartment last night? Robin and I came home this morning and found a broken lock and some shitty note we could barely read next to the answering machine, and - what the fuck, man? You wiped the damn thing clean. Just - call me back, okay? Jesus.
Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 11:36am
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Eddie, come on. We really need to talk. I’m not - I’m not mad, honest to God. Call me back, as soon as you get this. Got it?
Thursday, October 4th, 1991, 3:47pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
It’s movie night, but I’m assuming you won’t be here considering you’ve pulled your magic disappearing act. Thanks for that, by the way. You know you really piss me off sometimes? All the time, actually. I’m getting real tired of you constantly poking fun at me, and then you pull this breaking and entering shit and just take off? Just like that? We’ve been friends for years, Eds. You and me. But you never want to just be serious, not once in your goddamn life, and I’m over it. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess. I dunno what I did.
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:12pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
Huh. You know what? I kind of miss the old message you had. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m impossible to please, yada yada yada, and now I’m doing the avoiding with humor thing again. Shit. Uhh, hi. Listen, I’m sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Really, really fucking sorry, if you can believe it. I was just, like, mad embarrassed, and I didn’t wanna - uh, can we meet up soon? Alone? Like, without Robin even? I know that’s - like, unheard of these days, but I figure maybe you’d make an exception for me. Or maybe you won’t. Just let me know, yeah?
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:30pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
See, I would just hop on over to your place to talk but the thing is, I’m a total chickenshit and it’s not like I did super well the last time I showed up to your place unannounced, so…Uhh, while we’re on the subject, I’m sorry about your lock. If you haven’t replaced it yet, I will. I’ll at least pay you back. In my defense, that thing was like two seconds from falling off anyway. But still. Anyway, I know you always spend Sundays at home, soooo…hellooooo? Come on. At least pick up the phone and tell me to fuck off. I know you’re listening. At least - I hope you are, anyway. Just pick up, man. I - I really gotta talk to you.
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:37pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
So, quick update, I called Henderson. He confirmed you are at home, which means you are DEFINITELY listening, and either you’re trying to punish me or a part of you still finds my piece of shit ass charming somehow. Look, I know I fucked up, but - but I can explain. Shit. I mean, I’m not good with words or anything and I’m a total asshole but I - just, please. Pick up. Pick uuuuup. Come on. Now you’re just being a dick. Ha. Figures, I’m apologizing and calling you a dick in the same message. Dude. Seriously. Your tape is gonna run out of space and then what? You stop hearing from me? I’ll find other ways to annoy you, promise. This is a threat. Steve. Steeeeve. Pick up pick up pick up pick upppp -
“Will you just shut the hell up already?”
Eddie dropped the phone and heard it clack against the floor. He would have recognized that voice anywhere.
He turned around and there he was.
“Steve, what are you -?”
“You would just be yapping on that damn answering machine my whole drive here,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why I expected any less. And, thanks to you, we had all the space in the world for you to take up, so -”
“H-how did you get in here?” Eddie stuttered.
Steve rolled his eyes. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s not afraid of breaking and entering?”
They hadn’t seen each other in five days. Hadn’t even talked, aside from a few voicemails. And those never told the whole story.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie began.
“Yeah, you should be,” Steve replied, taking a step closer to Eddie in the kitchen.
Eddie winced, his heart racing a million miles a minute. He just had to get all of the words out, while he still could. While Steve was listening.
“I left you this really stupid voicemail,” Eddie explained. “That night, after the show. I was drunk off my ass, and - and Gareth told me I’d said shit I shouldn’t have said, and then I panicked, and the two of us went to your apartment and I - well, you know the rest.” He slumped down into the chair at the dining room table, putting his head in his hands. “Which is all just so dumb. And I didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath, so…”
“So you stopped talking to me?” Steve said, taking another step closer. “Because you thought that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in our friendship?”
Eddie shook his head. “I dunno, I -”
“You’ve done some real weird shit over the years, Munson,” Steve continued. “Sneaking into my apartment doesn’t even make the top three.”
Eddie buried his face in his hair. No amount of boyish charm would get him out of this one. Jesus H. Christ.
He sighed. “Okay, so I overreacted, what else is new?”
“I heard the voicemail, dickhead.”
Eddie’s heart went from breakneck speeds to stopping entirely.
“What?”
Steve sat down in the other seat at the table. “I heard the voicemail. It was 1am, again, so yeah I was at home.”
“I thought you would have been with Sandy,” Eddie muttered.
Steve shook his head. “Nah, Sandy was - she’s great and all, but she isn’t - she’s not -”
“So you heard the voicemail, but you weren’t home when I showed up,” Eddie noted.
“Right,” Steve said. “Because I was headed to your place.”
“What?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I just - I didn’t understand why you never told me you were queer. Like, you know I don’t care about that. You know about Robin…”
As Steve talked, Eddie realized that Steve only heard half of what that voicemail was trying to express. So, it was time for Eddie Munson to face the music.
“I didn’t tell you I’m gay because I knew that once I did, you’d figure out the rest of it,” Eddie blurted out.
Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “The rest of it?”
Eddie groaned. “Oh, God. See, drunk me had the right idea saying this kind of shit over an answering machine. Christ, I’m so bad at this, but I’m just gonna say it, because if I don’t I think I’ll lose my shot with you and I - I can’t deal with that. So, here we go.” He squeezed his eyes shut and powered through. “Steve, I - ha, shit. I love you, dude. I’m - I’m IN love with you. I have been since, like, forever.” He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on their feet against the linoleum kitchen floor. “Which is, uhh, a lot, I know. But it’s the truth. So if there’s any chance -”
“Oh, my God,” Steve interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, or scared, or anything like that. It was soft and understanding.
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Wait, what are you thinking?” He looked up to see Steve staring off into the distance before meeting his gaze.
“I’m thinking,” Steve replied. “That I owe Robin twenty bucks.”
Eddie cocked his head to the side and felt his heart skip back into rhythm. “You do?”
Steve nodded with a slight smile. At some point, his hand had ended up on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, I didn’t believe her. Told her no way, not possible.”
Eddie didn’t know how to feel about this reaction. It wasn’t the worst possible response, but it certainly wasn’t Oh, Eddie! How I’ve longed for you all this time! Take me now!
A middleground, if you will.
“Oookay,” Eddie said. “Well, I don’t really know what to say now.”
“I’m queer too, ya know,” Steve continued.
"Wait, really?" Eddie balked. "Steve Harrington, ladies man?"
Steve chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Turns out, not so much," he said. "I feel like I’m pretty open about it. Guys, girls, whatever -”
“Yeah, but we all do that,” Eddie reasoned. “Me, you, and Robin all talking about how hot everyone is on our movie nights. It doesn’t prove anything.”
“Except that it totally does,” Steve countered. “Because, like, what do we all have in common?"
Eddie thought about it, and he didn’t have any other defenses.
“O-okay, so you’re queer too,” Eddie said. “And the other thing I said?”
Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie directly in his frightened eyes.
“Eds, obviously I love you too,” Steve admitted at last. “Come on, seriously? After all I’ve put up with? I’ve been waiting around for like five days for you to call, like some lovesick puppy, and the moment I heard your voice I drove here instead of picking up the phone like a normal person. I’ve got it so bad for you that Robin is sick of it, and honestly, I’m sick of it too, because I hate having feelings. It blows, dude. I swear to God, if you try to bolt again when things get tough -”
Eddie lunged forward and cut Steve’s words off with a kiss. Their first kiss, even if it didn’t feel that way. Eddie had cupped Steve’s cheek in the past while he teased him. Steve had curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair in the past the night Robin taught him how to braid. Eddie and Steve had all kinds of physical contact in various ways over the years, and it was as if all of that was just practice for this.
Eddie broke away from Steve’s lips purely out of necessity, because he needed to catch his breath. “Okay, woah,” he said.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Woah.”
Everything changed after that. But also, nothing changed at all.
-
Tuesday, October 16th, 1991, 4:12pm
“Hey, this is Eddie Munson’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back.”
Hi, Eds. Okay, I was wrong. This new message you have is, like, super boring. Anyway, I’ll see you at the show tonight, Rockstar. Love you.
xx
I did have a taglist way back when but the tagging system is super annoying on tumblr, so please reblog this if you liked it and follow me or my Ao3 for other works! Masterlist is the pinned post on my page for those interested. Thanks for reading!
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Okay Whitney character dive, I'm just gonna use he/him pronouns for all of this except for PC ✨
I don't know how much of this makes sense but I'm going to ramble and I can already tell this is gonna get quite long
And once again small disclaimer I'm just rambling my personal speculation and thoughts and have no ways of knowing what the creators actually planned/intend for a character!
... Okay I have to add a cut I think it'll clutter the tag too much 👉👈
I actually kind of want to start out with making a comparison of Whitney vs Avery. Because I adore both, yet have actually seen some people interpret them in almost a switcharoo to what I do? Which is super interesting to me, but their character archetypes are definitely similar in several senses, and I find it fun to think about so-
From my point of view, what they have in common, in my opinion, is the "Control and status" mindset.
So when we first meet Whitney, he's obviously not introduced as a good guy, he's a bully, an utter asshole, and for a long time he is just that, he doesn't treat PC nicely until you get pretty high up in love, and still there he's still sometimes an absolute ass. (Just.. A more controlled one that will sometimes semi-respect your boundaries if you enforce them)
Whereas Avery, we meet as this charming, slightly mysterious yet chivalrous older man, helps us out, takes us out for a nice meal and in turn afterwards keeps being quite charmingly chivalrous as long-- as you act the proper way.
But the kind of funny thing it me is, with both of them, once you're in a relationship with you start to see the facade slip sometimes.
With Whitney, you start to see softer moments, it's small things that could be missed or brushed over perhaps, but you start to see moments where he shows he actually cares about the PC, and can actually be sort of sweet if you're in private with him.
Where as with Avery, you see the facade slip too-- but in the opposite way in my opinion? You start to see a colder side of him, start to see that what he cares about is appearance, and see that if you don't act the way he wanted you to, the anger comes through. (I'll definitely go more in depth of Avery if I make a post for him too)
Which again, feels like opposites, yet so similar?
And to touch back on their "control" mindset, there the thing is Whitney seems to be almost desperate for control, and will fight to have it, desperate for something he can actually have his own control over, likely stemming from a home life where he feels stuck and like he has no say in anything (Will touch more on this in just a second)
Where as Avery... Isn't desperate for control, rather he seems to simply expect it. He expects that PC will fall into line and be good, let him make the decisions that make them both look best. Especially at first of you chose the options that provoke him a bit, you can sense he almost starts to consider PC something to be tamed at that point.
Where both of them, highly value their status and other people looking upon them the way they've worked hard to obtain.
And to further explain what I meant with Whitney's home life, let's just say I think there's a reason that Whitney seems to be away from his home for as long as he can, why he prefers to loiter in alleyways and get drunk and cause trouble..
If we, once again, look at psychology, delinquent behaviors USUALLY stem from not feeling seen or heard by your parents, stem from an anger and frustration of either too strict rules or otherwise things like neglect. Same with bullying, usually also stemming from issues in the home life leaving the bully feeling weak and worthless, where bringing others down gives them a high of somewhat power. Especially to people they have a sense of envy toward.
We can also somewhat guess out from certain dialogue that Whitney's family probably isn't the wealthiest, as he describes his own room as a dump and also admits to Bailey that he indeed doesn't have near enough money to afford the PC. Plus if his parents were rich I don't think it'd make as much sense for him to be stealing, other than I guess pure provocation?
So those things combined I feel like I can definitely start to guess why Whitney might feel that lack of control in his life. I'm like... 90% sure I have seen Vrel say that the only thing feels like he has control over is his appearance? (And then the PC)
And while Whitney's relationship with the PC may start as a control thing for him, a simple way to get that itch satisfied and have some humiliation fun as well, well... He does genuinely start to care for the PC. Not that you'd get him to fully admit just how much he does.
Some of my favorite moments is when his brain almost short-wires when the PC not just reciprocates but initiates, especially outside the sexual context. Instantly blushing and trying to play it smooth but often ending up stuttering a bit. Or if you're gone too long and you can see faint tears in his eyes? Yeah good shit.
But also I absolutely have to mention how he is also so oddly soft in encounters, like often saying PC is like an angel, kissing PC'S forehead, praising... Like even in the "embarrassing" scenarios he often has this softness to him.
And to just softly go back to the whole bully psychology thing, a really interesting part of Whitney's character in my opinion is his target on Kylar, especially once he's with the PC.
Whitney in general is quite jealous / possessive, the only way he's sharing the PC is on his own volition, when he's the one controlling the scenario and who touches who. We can see he gets confrontational even in class of people just looking at the PC, or how he gets so frustrated if one of his friends try to help themselves to the PC.
So, to see the PC give someone like Kylar attention? Of course his brain will spiral.
Whitney has probably done so much to build up his position, to be popular, attractive, feared, to be in control, so to see /Kylar/, the freak, the weird little creep everyone actively avoids, who's such an easy target for bullying because of it-- /that's/ someone PC is interested in? Infuriating. A confidence hit probably. From his point of view he has so much more to offer than that pathetic little freak, doesn't he?
And that's where one of Whitney's big flaws come in, because when he feels upset, or even betrayed by the PC, he acts out. He starts to threaten, he starts to humiliate, he forces the PC into dangerous situations. A way to try and snatch that control back.
If pushed far enough, (spoiler warning here!!) we know he's even willing to sell the PC off to the underground brothel because of that loss of respect from everyone else. Because of that loss of control that he so desperately clutches onto.
But I'm gonna try and round it off a bit here--
Whitney seems to have a rather poor handle on emotions, on vulnerability. It's easier to be someone people fear and be having fun with it than it is letting someone even catch a glimpse at the vulnerable parts inside.
... Which is exactly why the moments that he has alone with the PC is something I absolutely melt over, those cracks beginning to show the softness.
So to sum up!
I find Whitney a really interesting character, as much as I roll my eyes at him and think he's a stupid ass, I really hope we in the future keep seeing him develop more and more 🤧
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