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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 months

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Oooh! A great Gavin Finney (Good Omens Director of Photography) interview with Helen Parkinson for the British Cinematographer! :)

HEAVEN SENT

Gifted a vast creative landscape from two of fantasy’s foremost authors to play with, Gavin Finney BSC reveals how he crafted the otherworldly visuals for Good Omens 2.

It started with a letter from beyond the grave. Following fantasy maestro Sir Terry Pratchett’s untimely death in 2015, Neil Gaiman decided he wouldn’t adapt their co-authored 1990 novel, Good Omens, without his collaborator. That was, until he was presented with a posthumous missive from Pratchett asking him to do just that.

For Gaiman, it was a request that proved impossible to decline: he brought Good Omens season one to the screen in 2019, a careful homage to its source material. His writing, complemented by some inspired casting – David Tennant plays the irrepressible demon Crowley, alongside Michael Sheen as angel-slash-bookseller Aziraphale – and award-nominated visuals from Gavin Finney BSC, proved a potent combination for Prime Video viewers.

Aziraphale’s bookshop was a set design triumph.

Season two departs from the faithful literary adaptation of its predecessor, instead imagining what comes next for Crowley and Aziraphale. Its storyline is built off a conversation that Pratchett and Gaiman shared during a jetlagged stay in Seattle for the 1989 World Fantasy Convention. Gaiman remembers: “The idea was always that we would tell the story that Terry and I came up with in 1989 in Seattle, but that we would do that in our own time and in our own way. So, once Good Omens (S1) was done, all I knew was that I really, really wanted to tell the rest of the story.”

Telling that story visually may sound daunting, but cinematographer Finney is no stranger to the wonderfully idiosyncratic world of Pratchett and co. As well as lensing Good Omens’ first outing, he’s also shot three other Pratchett stories – TV mini series Hogfather (2006), and TV mini-series The Colour of Magic (2008) and Going Postal (2010).

He relishes how the authors provide a vast creative landscape for him to riff off. “The great thing about Pratchett and Gaiman is that there’s no limit to what you can do creatively – everything is up for grabs,” he muses. “When we did the first Pratchett films and the first Good Omens, you couldn’t start by saying, ‘Okay, what should this look like?’, because nothing looks like Pratchett’s world. So, you’re starting from scratch, with no references, and that starting point can be anything you want it to be.”

Season two saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including Aziraphale’s bookshop.

From start to finish

The sole DP on the six-episode season, Finney was pleased to team up again with returning director Douglas Mackinnon for the “immensely complicated” shoot, and the pair began eight weeks of prep in summer 2021. A big change was the production shifting the main soho set from Bovington airfield, near London, up to Edinburgh’s Pyramids Studio. Much of the action in Good Omens takes place on the Soho street that’s home to Aziraphale’s bookshop, which was built as an exterior set on the former airfield for season one. Season two, however, saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including the bookshop, record store and pub, to minimise reliance on green screen.

Finney brought over many elements of his season one lensing, especially Mackinnon’s emphasis on keeping the camera moving, which involved lots of prep and testing. “We had a full-time Scorpio 45’ for the whole shoot (run by key grip Tim Critchell and his team), two Steadicam operators (A camera – Ed Clark and B camera Martin Newstead) all the way through, and in any one day we’d often go from Steadicam, to crane, to dolly and back again,” he says. “The camera is moving all the time, but it’s always driven by the story.”

One key difference for season two, however, was the move to large-format visuals. Finney tested three large-format cameras and the winner was the Alexa LF (assisted by the Mini LF where conditions required), thanks to its look and flexibility.

The minisodes were shot on Cooke anamorphics, giving Finney the ideal balance of anamorphic-style glares and characteristics without too much veiling flare.

A more complex decision was finding the right lenses for the job. “You hear about all these whizzy new lenses that are re-barrelled ancient Russian glass, but I needed at least two full sets for the main unit, then another set for the second unit, then maybe another set again for the VFX unit,” Finney explains. “If you only have one set of this exotic glass, it’s no good for the show.”

He tested a vast array of lenses before settling on Zeiss Supremes, supplied by rental house Media Dog. These ticked all the boxes for the project: “They had a really nice look – they’re a modern design but not over sharp, which can look a bit electronic and a bit much, especially with faces. When you’re dealing with a lot of wigs and prosthetics, we didn’t want to go that sharp. The Supremes had a very nice colour palette and nice roll-off. They’re also much smaller than a lot of large-format glass, so that made it easy for Steadicam and remote cranes. They also provided additional metadata, which was very useful for the VFX department (VFX services were provided by Milk VFX).”

The Supremes were paired with a selection of filters to characterise the show’s varied locations and characters. For example, Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass were paired with bookshop scenes; Black Pro-Mist was used for Hell; and Black Diffusion FX for Crowley’s present-day storyline.

Finney worked closely with the show’s DIT, Donald MacSween, and colourist, Gareth Spensley, to develop the look for the minisode.

Maximising minisodes

Episodes two, three and four of season two each contain a ‘minisode’ – an extended flashback set in Biblical times, 1820s Edinburgh and wartime London respectively. “Douglas wanted the minisodes to have very strong identities and look as different from the present day as possible, so we’d instantly know we were in a minisode and not the present day,” Finney explains.

One way to shape their distinctive look was through using Cooke anamorphic lenses. As Finney notes: “The Cookes had the right balance of controllable, anamorphic-style flares and characteristics without having so much veiling flare that they would be hard to use on green screens. They just struck the right balance of aesthetics, VFX requirements and availability.” The show adopted the anamorphic aspect ratio (2:39.1), an unusual move for a comedy, but one which offered them more interesting framing opportunities.

Good Omens 2 was shot on the Alexa LF, paired with Zeiss Supremes for the present-day scenes.

The minisodes were also given various levels of film grain to set them apart from the present-day scenes. Finney first experimented with this with the show’s DIT Donald MacSween using the DaVinci Resolve plugin FilmConvert. Taking that as a starting point, the show’s colourist, Company 3’s Gareth Spensley, then crafted his own film emulation inspired by two-strip Technicolor. “There was a lot of testing in the grade to find the look for these minisodes, with different amounts of grain and different types of either Technicolor three-strip or two-strip,” Finney recalls. “Then we’d add grain and film weave on that, then on top we added film flares. In the Biblical scenes we added more dust and motes in the air.”

Establishing the show’s lighting was a key part of Finney’s testing process, working closely with gaffer Scott Napier and drawing upon PKE Lighting’s inventory. Good Omens’ new Scottish location posed an initial challenge: as the studio was in an old warehouse rather than being purpose-built for filming, its ceilings weren’t as high as one would normally expect. This meant Finney and Napier had to work out a low-profile way of putting in a lot of fixtures.

Inside Crowley’s treasured Bentley.

Their first task was to test various textiles, LED wash lights and different weight loadings, to establish what they were working with for the street exteriors. “We worked out that what was needed were 12 SkyPanels per 20’x20’ silk, so each one was a block of 20’x20’, then we scaled that up,” Finney recalls. “I wanted a very seamless sky, so I used full grid cloth which made it very, very smooth. That was important because we’ve got lots of cars constantly driving around the set and the sloped windscreens reflect the ceiling. So we had to have seamless textiles – PKE had to source around 12,000 feet of textiles so that we could put them together, so the reflections in the windscreens of the cars just showed white gridcloth rather than lots of stage lights. We then drove the car around the set to test it from different angles.”

On the floor, they mostly worked with LEDs, providing huge energy and cost savings for the production. Astera’s Titan Tubes came in handy for a fun flashback scene with John Hamm’s character Gabriel. The DP remembers: “[Gabriel] was travelling down a 30-foot feather tunnel. We built a feather tunnel on the stage and wrapped it in a ring of Astera tubes, which were then programmed by dimmer op Jon Towler to animate, pulse and change different colours. Each part of Gabriel’s journey through his consciousness has a different colour to it.”

Among the rigs built was a 20-strong Creamsource Vortex setup for the graveyard scene in the “Body Snatchers” minisode, shot in Stirling. “We took all the yokes off each light then put them on a custom-made aluminium rig so we could have them very close. We put them up on a big telehandler on a hill that gave me a soft mood light, which was very adjustable, windproof and rainproof.”

Shooting on the VP stage for the birth of the universe scenes in episode one.

Sky’s the limit

A lot of weather effects were done in camera – including lightning effects pulsed in that allowed both direct fork lightning and sheet lightning to spread down the streets. In the grade, colourist Spensley was also able to work his creative magic on the show’s skies. “Gareth is a very artistic colourist – he’s a genius at changing skies,” Finney says. “Often in the UK you get these very boring, flat skies, but he’s got a library of dramatic skies that you can drop in. That would usually be done by VFX, but he’s got the ability to do it in Baselight, so a flat sky suddenly becomes a glorious sunset.”��

Finney emphasises that the grade is a very involved process for a series like Good Omens, especially with its VFX-heavy nature. “This means VFX sequences often need extra work when it comes back into the timeline,” says the DP. “So, we often add camera movement or camera shake to crank the image up a bit. Having a colourist like Gareth is central to a big show like Good Omens, to bring all the different visual elements together and to make it seamless. It’s quite a long grade process but it’s worth its weight in gold.”

Shooting in the VR cube for the blitz scenes .

Finney took advantage of virtual production (VP) technology for the driving scenes in Crowley’s classic Bentley. The volume was built on their Scottish set: a 4x7m cube with a roof that could go up and down on motorised winches as needed. “We pulled the cars in and out on skates – they went up on little jacks, which you could then rotate and move the car around within the volume,” he explains. “We had two floating screens that we could move around to fill in and use as additional source lighting. Then we had generated plates – either CGI or real location plates –projected 360º around the car. Sometimes we used the volume in-camera but if we needed to do more work downstream; we’d use a green screen frustum.” Universal Pixels collaborated with Finney to supply in-camera VFX expertise, crew and technical equipment for the in-vehicle driving sequences and rear projection for the crucial car shots.

John Hamm was suspended in the middle of this lighting rig and superimposed into the feather tunnel.

Interestingly, while shooting at a VP stage in Leith, the team also used the volume as a huge, animated light source in its own right – a new technique for Finney. “We had the camera pointing away from [the volume] so the screen provided this massive, IMAX-sized light effect for the actors. We had a simple animation of the expanding universe projected onto the screen so the actors could actually see it, and it gave me the animated light back on the actors.”

Bringing such esteemed authors’ imaginations to the screen is no small task, but Finney was proud to helped bring Crowley and Aziraphale’s adventures to life once again. He adds: “What’s nice about Good Omens, especially when there’s so much bad news in the world, is that it’s a good news show. It’s a very funny show. It’s also about good and evil, love and doing the right thing, people getting together irrespective of backgrounds. It’s a hopeful message, and I think that that’s what we all need.”

Finney is no stranger to the idiosyncratic world of Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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munson-blurbs · 1 month

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway.

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it.

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too.

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then.

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried.

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change.

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang.

Trust I seek and I find in you

Every day for us something new

Open mind for a different view

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work.

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original.

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar.

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground.

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case.

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords.

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt.

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to.

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question.

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.”

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity.

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since.

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips.

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money.

Fuck it.

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight.

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide.

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it.

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles.

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you.

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless.

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone.

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?”

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride.

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours.

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?”

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed.

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours.

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.”

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station.

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped.

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo.

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags.

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up.

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters.

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over.

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind.

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in.

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life.

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket.

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it.

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him.

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son.

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened.

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours.

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer.

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water.

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp.

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke.

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you.

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks.

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation.

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back.

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill.

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye.

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard.

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates.

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you.

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays.

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie.

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say.

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.”

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car.

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave.

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat.

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings.

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target.

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication.

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger.

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap.

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ��man stuff?’”

“Something like that.”

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and plundered on.

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance.

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution.

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too.

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat.

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all.

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#eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

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i !loved! your lando x teen daughter! do you think you could write smth similar maybe with like a first boyfriend or something like that? with any driver you want doesn’t have to be lando! nw if not xx

Note: thank you ✨️ I don't mind doing it for Lando (if you haven't noticed, I've been really in my Lando feels recently 🫣)

Matilda confided with you a few months ago that she thought she was falling in love with one of her friends and she thought he felt the same too, so you weren't too surprised when she said she wanted to invite him over for dinner, Lando being the first to suggest you do it at home, hoping for a more private setting for everyone.

When you both laid in your bed that night, you let your head rest on his chest and quesioned "are you- is everything okay? I'm not going to lie, I thought you'd have more of a reaction, let's put it that way. You know, about Matilda and the dinner with her boyfriend".

Apparently, your husband hadn't caught on quite the idea until then, "her boyfriend? He's her boyfriend?", he whisper shouted, straightening himself up and taking you with him, "woop- Careful, darling", you huffed.

"I thought he was a friend of hers", Lando argued, "she said "my boyfriend", handsome, maybe you didn't hear it", you argued back.

Lando thought about it for a bit, the quietness in the room slightly awkward while you drew shapes on his chest, "As much as I am not the biggest fan of having my baby girl suddenly all grown up and dating, I can't just throw a tantrum about it, can I?", he chuckled, "do I like the idea that some boy had charmed up our daughter? Maybe not, but we know he's a good kid, and if she really likes him, I should give him a chance, right?", he said, "is that so?", you checked over, "we had a few bumps in the way too, and I'm sure people who cared about you knew about them, so I'm not going to judge based on simple things. I never want her to be mistreated, and if I could protect her I would, but human relationships aren't that always linear".

"I still thank my lucky stars everyday that I have you with me", he said, puckering his lips so he could give you a big kiss, "that doesn't mean I will be all friendly though, it's still my baby girl", he grumbled.

At the dinner, Lando and you tried to keep it as easy going as possible, encouraging Fraser to do the same despite his frown and constant questions about a wide variety of topics. When you found him in the corridor coming back from using the bathroom, you pulled on his ear softly, "ouch! What was that for?", he whisper-yelled.

"You're scaring the poor boy with all those questions! What do you know about the postal service? And public transportation?", you questioned, "I'm just trying to get a sense of the guy who is stealing my sister away from me!", he admitted.

"You played together when you were kids!", you argued with him, sitting down on the stairs and pulling him to sit with you, "Fraser, before Matilda even thinks of leaving this house, she'll never be stolen by anyone. There's no boy that's going to take her away from us", you tapped his shoulder, hugging him close before getting up, "let's go, I bet if you actually asking him different things, you'll find that he's a good kid", you urged.

"So are you saying that whenever I bring a girl home, you'll be all cool too?", he teased you. Taking a deep breath, you looked at his eyes, very similar to his father's and reminding you how easy it would be to fall for them, "I will be gracious and get to know her properly - don't expect me to go all mama bear if you screw things up. I have taught you how to treat your partner!", you winked, kissing his cheek.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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luveline · 2 years

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ok but now i need eddie to propose to reader with roan holding flowers and being in her best dress

you don't have to read the ficlets before this one but can if you want to! eddie asks roan about proposing to you | roan calls you mom | eddie and roan move in | eddie and roan masterlist ♡ fem!reader

You've been expecting it for a while now. You'd thought for sure that eventually Roan would spill the beans, or that Eddie himself might reveal the surprise, but neither father nor daughter have spoken about anything even slightly wedding related in weeks.

You seem to have done things in a backwards order. Roan had called you mom before they even moved in, and now you're living together, you, your boyfriend and his kid, and there's no ring on your finger. Your coworkers think you're crazy, you can see it in their high and mighty eyebrow raises and wrinkled noses. You almost wish you could bring yourself to care about what they think, but you can't.

This morning, you'd woken up to a small hand stroking your hair, and when you'd opened your eyes you'd found Roan in her frilly nightgown kneeling on the floor by your bedside table, smiling at you sheepishly.

"What's up, babygirl?" you'd murmured, still half asleep.

"Can I hug with you?" she'd asked.

Eddie had been still sleeping, your alarm an hour from ringing. You'd scooted back into his chest and thrown back your sheets, and Roan had climbed in and fallen asleep again rather quickly. It had been a simple, perfect moment, better when her father had woken you up doing exactly the same thing.

It's unconventional, but it isn't wrong. You have a life together and you know it's for a good long time with or without a ring. Still, you'd sort of been expecting with the ring.

It kind of feels like the most important thing you've ever done. That, and falling in love with her dad twice over again. Something about living with Eddie has made him all the more golden. He'd remarked only a few days ago that you'd become clingier.

Roan had only slipped up once, the very first time she'd called you mom. She'd been excited about something clearly, excited enough to start calling you her mommy, and under investigation had admitted to a 'pu-postal'. Slowly, you'd come to realise what that meant. Eddie must have broached the subject with her, must have explained what your getting married would mean; you're gonna be Roan's mom (step-mom, officially).

You kind of feel like you already are now they've moved in. You're doing more for her than you ever had before, helping her with the bathroom and getting her dressed, hours of movies and cuddling and playing and singing and dancing. You're earning the title, slowly but surely.

"Sorry," you'd apologised, abashed at his having noticed but not offended.

"Are you fucking kidding? Don't be." You'd been laid out in his lap, arms around his waist. "This is exactly where I want you."

You smile at the memory, hands tap-tapping a rhythm into your steering wheel. You're on your way home, excited to see your boy, excited to see your baby, excited to make a home cooked dinner and stay up late watching movies. Friday nights have become your favourite time of the week. You, Eddie, and Roan eat, shower, and get into your best pajamas to make stove top popcorn fit for a family of ten and lie on the couch until you pass out on top of each other. It's perfect.

You pull up and Eddie's car is already in the drive, as it usually is. He'd confided in you once, when he was a little younger, that he'd rode around in a big rusty van. You can't imagine it now, his car all but screams family man.

You think the same of your front door, pausing to grin at the plaque by the front door, a slab of wood etched with a stick figure family. You'd deliberated getting it inscribed with 'The Munson's' but, as you've lamented, you don't have a ring.

Yet.

You bump into the house and drop your heavy bag, shoes off quick and into the living room quicker. You're expecting Roan to be laid out on the couch watching Friday cartoons, a bowl of chips in her lap to keep her occupied while Eddie makes dinner. It's a ritual at this point for you to swing open the door and reach over the back of the sofa for her. She indulges you without question, every single time. You cuddle, and you ask her for a kiss that she graciously gives, and so begins a perfect Friday evening.

Only Roan's not on the couch. Your living room is alarmingly clean. The TV is dark.

"Roan?" you call. Then, at the pervasive silence, "Guys?"

You swear you hear a giggle. Grinning, you creep back out of the living room and go the opposite way toward the kitchen. You know exactly what you'll see when you open the door; Eddie, in his work clothes, arms washed off oil upto the elbows and a wooden spoon in hand, stirring away at something warm and fragrant on the stove. Or maybe Eddie at the kitchen table, Roan perched on his thigh, the two of them talking as a part bake browns in the oven. Best, Roan upto her elbows in flour, fresh made pasta an hour away.

You open the door with a smile, already anticipating the firm hug that awaits you from your lovely boyfriend. The tightness of his arms over your shoulders, his hair tickling your cheek.

But again, there's nobody there. Nothing bubbling on the stove, no Eddie to demand a hug from. You pout dramatically and spin, looking for evidence of your small family and finding none.

"Guys?"

"Up here, Y/N!" Roan calls, followed by more raucous giggling.

Your confusion wanes. "What are you doing up there, princess?" you call from the bottom of the stairs. You take them two at a time and almost trip up the last one, carpet soft and freshly vacuumed under your socks. "And why is the house so clean? Is it my birthday?"

You stop dead at the sight before you. Red rose petals are scattered sparsely in a line from the top of the stairs to your bedroom. You follow them with your eyes swiftly, gaze catching on your open bedroom door.

You've watched Eddie do her hair hundreds of times now. You can see it clearly, her damp curls brushed and twined around the handle. How he drops each curl into his hand and pushes it upward toward her head to hold its shape.

Eddie stands in the middle of the bedroom, a dark figure in an otherwise white room. White sheets — your 'girly' ones that you'd swapped out when Eddie moved in — dotted in red petals. White balloons all stuck to the ceiling, ribbons curled and falling from them in spirals.

Roan, in her nicest white dress, her 'best dress', the one you always take extra care to be gentle with on wash day. Her curls are perfect, dark and silky and defined.

He's even let her wear her sparkly lip gloss.

Eddie, for once, seems to have taken care of his own hair. His frizz (which you love, because it's his look) has been tamped down into more gentle curls, ringlets weighed by their impressive length.

"You guys look nice," you say softly, not sure where to look.

Roan fumbles with the bouquet in her hands, white frosted cellophane surrounding a bundle of deep red roses.

Is it my birthday? you think. But no, it's not your birthday, which means...

"You wanna give her your flowers?" Eddie asks, voice a steady, quiet murmur. He takes her shoulder into his ring-clad hand and encourages her toward you.

Roan was waiting for the command. She rushes forward, realises she's rushing and takes the last two or three steps at a slower pace. You meet her at the threshold, petals crushed under your feet.

You take the bouquet, bent at the waist, from her outstretched hands.

"Thanks, baby," you say, swallowing around a heavy lump in your throat.

She beams at you. Her pert features, so much like Eddie's, look especially cute right now. Maybe because you know what's happening, maybe because she's the loveliest kid you've ever met, your eyes sting with tears.

You look away from her before you can crack. The flowers shake minutely in your hand, the smallest tremble. You stroke a thin petal with your forefinger and find a white note attached within.

It's Eddie's slanting handwriting.

For my mommy. I love you. Love and kisses,

Roan.

Roan is written in her own handwriting, big clumsy letters.

She doesn't call you mom all the time and that's okay, you'll take whatever she wants to give, and even when she calls you by your name she says it with love. But when she does call you mom? It makes you wanna blubber uncontrollably.

"She told me what to write," Eddie says.

"Yeah?" you ask. You square away tears. It's alarming to be loved so much, but it's also amazing. Happiness overwhelms everything else.

He nods. Your mind isn't sure what to focus on, how handsome he looks in his black button down, sleeves pushed up, hands hidden inside his pockets, or how precious his baby girl is.

You squat down and open your arms. Roan jumps into them and wraps her own around your neck, face squished roughly to your cheek. Your bouquet crinkles as you hug back, and her hair falls into the flowers.

"I love you, macaroni," you tell her, eyes closing as you push your face into the top of her head. "So much."

"I know it hasn't even been two years yet," Eddie says.

You pry your eyes open and stand.

He's taken a step forward.

"Almost," you say gently.

"But it has been the best 'almost' two years of my life." You tighten your hold on Roan as she pulls her face from your neck to watch Eddie speak. "It's been hard. Uh..." He wipes his hands on his thighs and chuckles nervously. "I didn't realise this part was going to be so hard. But it's all been worth it, every part, and you've made it-" It melts your heart how scared he looks. "I wouldn't change anything. It's perfect. You're perfect."

His voice grows increasingly softer as he goes, his last admission a whisper.

"I'm trying not to be theatrical," he says. "But I'm thinking maybe you deserve someone to sing your praises."

"Eds..."

He puts his arm out. You don't know if he's asking for you or Roan, but you fall into him anyways. If he wasn't trying to get a hug from you that's just too bad. He tries not to crush your flowers.

"I love you," he says, arm sliding over your shoulder. "You're a bombshell, and you're," — his hand curls to cover the side of your neck, "the most loving person I've ever met. I know how lucky I am to be with you. How lucky I am that you love me."

Eddie isn't insincere. He's said a thousand nice things to you, he'll say another thousand before the year's out. But his voice is rough with an emotion you're not sure you've ever heard from him, a blazing earnestness, a reverential sort of love.

You want to say, I'm lucky. Are you kidding? I'm the lucky one. You want to burst into tears, and you want to kiss him stupid.

You don't do any of those things, because Eddie has a question to ask you.

He tries to back away from you and you cling, worried you're gonna fall over.

"I'm trying to get down on one knee," he says, bemused.

You shake your head voraciously, speechless.

"Marry me," he says. "I don't care how you want to do it. A church with all the trimmings or we can go down to the courthouse tonight. Just marry me, please."

"Alright." He laughs and digs through his pocket for the box, propping it open on his thigh to grab the ring before tossing the empty box onto the bed. It's clumsy, and it's bold. It suits him.

He proffers the ring between you.

Roan reaches for his neck. Not amazing timing, Eddie lets her climb onto his chest and wraps her up, and when the ring dissapears behind her back you realise how badly you want it.

"Yes," you say, because there isn't a reality where you could ever say no. It hangs in the air. "Yes, please, I'll marry you. I don't care how."

Roan giggles excitedly but still doesn't crack.

You look at the ring he's chosen for the first time in awe. It's exactly what you would've picked for yourself. You've no clue how he guessed.

Eddie lifts his chin, eyes on your hand. You can tell from the way he's lit up that he's biting backna sticky sweet smile as he takes his arm away from your shoulder and swaps it with the arm behind Roan's back to brandish the ring. Your ring.

You hold out your hand. He neatly slides it over your knuckle.

"Is that okay?" he asks.

You tilt your head back towards it and the three of you look at your hand. You've never liked your hands before this moment.

"Who am I kissing first?" you ask grandly.

Really, you want to kiss Eddie. He just proposed. But Roan's been holding in all her excitement and she's an ill-contained vestibule of emotion too big for her body, and you're startled when she bursts into tears.

"Baby," you say, at the same time as Eddie says, "Aw, bubby."

"I'm the one that supposed to be crying," you coo, searching for her hand. You rub over her knuckles. "What's the matter, princess?"

"I'm so happy 'cos now you're my mom," she says, all at once, words glued together by a continuous sob.

"Babe, we didn't get married," Eddie says, his sympathetic parentese robbed of any sincerity by a poorly hidden laugh.

"I was..." You look at Eddie and talk slowly, in case you're mispeaking. "I was kind of your mom already, wasn't I?"

Roan doesn't even answer, she just cries and cries. It gets you pretty quickly, eyes swimming with tears. You drop your head against Eddie's collar and stroke her hand, giggling wetly as a first tear bumps down your cheek.

"Not both of you," Eddie frets.

"If you loved us, you'd be crying too."

"I do love you." He kisses your temple, an expert in juggling his girls. "Happiest day of my life, as long as Ro stops crying."

"You gotta stop crying, princess," you implore, poking her soft cheek. "I need a sticky lip gloss kiss, please. I want a kiss print right here." You poke at your own cheek enticingly.

Her crying lessens. Eddie couldn't sound anymore content than he does when he says, "Go on. Give her a kiss, baby."

Roan gives you a sticky kiss as you knew it would be, the second best kiss of your entire life. Then Eddie drops her fast but not meanly into the bed, flower petals jumping up around her, and gives you the first. Both hands on your face, a tenacity behind him that makes you squeal with laughter, Eddie kisses and kisses and doesn't stop until you've run out of breath.

"Ow, watch it," you chide, lips tingling. "I need these, you know? How'm I gonna kiss you at the altar if you break my mouth?"

Your mentioning of an altar gets him bad. He kisses you again, again, the two of you giggling like fools with your hands pressed tight to each others faces.

Roan slides off of the bed and grabs at both of your thighs with an adorably cross look on her face.

"Oh no," Eddie says.

"Poor girl," you agree.

"We've left you out, hm?"

Like he's read your mind and you his, you bend in sync and kiss her damp cheeks.

"Thanks for keeping it together so long," Eddie says against her cheek, sealing it with another adoring kiss.

"I'm impressed," you say. She'd shown an amazing level of self control.

"Hours of coaching. Isn't that right?"

Roan nods primly, eyes widening as she emphasises. "He talked for ages and ages."

You're smiling so hard you think your cheeks might bruise. "He's a blabber mouth, huh? Nothing like you, angel."

Eddie snorts. You give him a little shove and he nudges you back, sharing a private look over Roan's head. I love you, he mouths.

Roan snuggles into your legs as you mouth it back.

more eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #mom!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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feeder86 · 1 year

Text

The Feeders’ Foreplay

“You’re late,” stated the most attractive man Levi had ever seen as he opened the door to the uptown, grotesquely lavish apartment.

It took Levi a couple of seconds to swallow the wave of arousal upon seeing his hook-up in real life. Viewing the pictures on the app was one thing, but in person, Jac had a whole new level of sex appeal; maybe more than any other man alive.

“I’m so sorry,” Levi stuttered, already sensing that the role play had started, judging by the harsh and stern way Jac was looking at him. “There were roadworks on 45th Street; burst water pipes, or something. The bus had to go around.” He stepped inside; his hardness already very substantial just by simply standing next to Jac.

“It makes no difference to me,” Jac finally relented. “It won’t affect my schedule. Although, it does mean that you just missed one of my transformations; a rather disgusting, skinny postal worker, now a deliciously oversized, blubbery monster!” he smiled with pride.

Levi sucked in hard, trying to control his arousal. He didn’t know that the role play would start this quickly, but he was glad that it had. Jac had been such a smooth talker since they had begun messaging a couple of days ago; not dropping out of character once. He claimed to have mercilessly fattened thousands of guys to outrageous sizes and spoke with such detail about the changes that he found so incredibly satisfying to observe.

Until about six months ago, Levi had always considered himself to be a feeder. He’d dated and fed quite a few fat guys in his time, although he didn’t ever have quite the imagination for role play; nor the natural affinity for domination like Jac did. He’d gained a little weight over the holidays last year; the fresh fat sitting over his six pack and arousing him more than he ever thought it would. He’d started to chat to other feeders; allowed himself to be encouraged by them, in much the same way as he had done in the past. Now he was thirty pounds heavier than he had ever been in his life, with a little round belly on him that gave him more kinky satisfation than he could ever have imagined. He lifted off his shirt, and allowed Jac to see the small little belly that he had developed, tapping it at the side to show him that it was genuinely quite soft. “Fatten me into one of your piggy boys!” he growled with lust.

Levi had only been fed by one other feeder before. It had been a new experience, having been stuffed to the brim with food until his stomach was rather painful. He remembered feeling incredibly uncomfortable on the bus ride home, despite the fact that climaxing at that level of fullness had been the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. Now he was definitely ready to do it again, feeling a desperate desire to impress the beautiful guy he had just met for the first time. He followed Jac through the apartment, gasping as he saw the amazing view through the windows, hardly able to comprehend his luck that he was even standing in one of these multi-million dollar penthouses. Was he really being led to the bedroom already?

Jac stood at the door, barring Levi’s entrance. “Take your pants off before you come in here,” he ordered; his tone suggesting that there was no room for compromise, nor that Jac would be dropping his dominant demeanor anytime soon.

“Yes, sir!” Levi grinned, eager to submit as he kicked off his shoes and removed his pants, along with his underwear. He’d always been proud of the size of his penis. It was something all guys commented on, and he stood there, decidedly erect, waiting for Jac to comment.

Jac merely glanced down and gave the briefest of scoffs. “I’ve got other boys in here,” Jac grinned. “I’m going to fatten them, just like I am you.” With that, he gave Levi’s plush little paunch a poke, spiking his arousal even more.

Levi moaned with pleasure. “I can’t wait to be your fat little piggy!” he declared, just as Jac leaned in for a kiss; their hands sliding all over each other. Then, with a kick of Jac’s foot, the door swung open, revealing the concealed room at last.

It was the smell that hit Levi first; the stale sweat of a gym changing room. Blackout blinds covered the windows, meaning that the large, otherwise empty space was lit only from a single bulb above. In the two furthest corners of the room, two handsome and built men sat on their knees, chained to the wall. One of them even had a ball gag in his mouth, looking up only briefly, before lowering his head once more.

“Run! Get out of here!” the other guy in the corner called out as Levi walked in with Jac. “Have you eaten anything yet? He’s going to fatten you like he did the others!”

Levi’s pulse raised even further. This whole role play was even kinkier than he had expected. He had no idea that there would be others getting involved. All the while, Levi kept on grinning with enthusiasm, despite feeling that the other guy was perhaps taking it a little far with the shouting.

In the very middle of the room, Jac kissed him fiercely in front of the other two men, as if to assert his dominance. “I’ve saved you a spot just over here…” the sexy guy whispered, pointing at a set of chains that were screwed tightly into the corner of the room. He turned to the guy in the corner, still shouting at Levi to leave, zoning in on him, his gaze silencing the noisy man immediately. “Will, Will, Will…” Jac tutted. “Anyone would think you didn’t love me, going on like this!”

The man, who Levi now knew as Will, nodded his head, as if suddenly captivated by the beauty of Jac. “I love you…” he nodded slowly. “I love you so much!”

“I know you do,” Jac agreed, smirking as if he was holding back a laugh. He stepped forward, pulling the good looking guy into his crotch. There, Will moaned with lust, mouth agape, breathing in the scent of his master, looking decidely desperate to suck the dick that was hidden underneath Jac’s clothes.

Following Jac, once Will had been pacified, Levi slipped down onto his knees, copying the two other men in the room; allowing the sexy dominant to quietly cuff him.

“Good boy!” Jac smiled, looking down at Levi, now in his rightful place. “Are you hungry, little piggy?” he asked, rubbing the guy’s head and messing up his hair as another display of his total control over him, pulling his head into his crotch in much the same way as he had Will moments earlier.

“I’m starving!” Levi nodded, adding as much enthusiasm as he could, considering how much the other guys were all going for it.

Just behind the door, sat a small plate with a delicious looking cream cake. Levi licked his lips theatrically as Jac brought it towards him. “I prepared it just for you!” Jac declared, sitting it down on the floor in front of the naked Levi.

“Don’t eat that…” the other guy mumbled, as if not quite able to think clearly, but still trying hard.

“Dig in, Piggy!” Jac ordered, stepping back and allowing Levi to brace himself on all fours, something Levi was just about able to do given the sufficient slack on the chains. From there, he threw his mouth down straight onto it and gorged upon it in a way that he hoped Jac would find kinky and arousing. He licked around his mouth and could just about reach his nose to slide the mess onto his nose and suck it clean. “Good boy!” Jac laughed. “You did the right thing.”

Levi smiled, feeling that he would have done anything for Jac; absolutely anything in the world. He’d never met anyone like him before, and knew that he never would again. But suddenly, Jac was leaving the room, as if he had lost interest in an instant. The door closed and Levi was left feeling a little disorientated, chained as he was to the wall. “Where’s he gone?” he asked the only other person who was able to speak to him.

“He…” the guy tried to reply, sounding hungover, before losing track entirely and falling silent.

Levi waited patiently, still feeling an incredible sense of eroticism for the scenario that he was in. He looked over at the other guys in there with him, admiring their fit, toned bodies. For that, Levi felt a small spike of jealousy. Although he had decided to give into his gaining urges for the past few months, Levi knew he wouldn’t keep at it for long. Before the summer ended, he planned to start a big cut and get back in shape. This belly, as cute as it was, was not going to be a permanent fixture, that was for sure. He wasn’t quite ready to lose himself entirely to these kinks of his.

After fifteen minutes or so, Levi heard voices once more, coming from somewhere in the apartment. “Here comes another one,” the guy in the corner mumbled, apparently waking up a little more than before. “Every hour a new one of us arrives!”

Even the other man in the corner looked up as the door opened and Jac walked in with a new person by his side. Levi recognised him right away as Harry, a guy he’d spoken to many times online. Undressed and naked, he followed Jac into the room, much like Levi only half an hour earlier; his erection just as solid as Levi’s was now upon seeing Jac once more. Although slightly shorter in real life than Levi had pictured him, Harry was a beautifully toned and handsome guy, with a wicked way with words when he’d encouraged Levi to overeat whilst they had been online together in the past. But why would Harry be interested in coming to a feeder’s place? Was he here to feed Levi as well? Or, would Jac feed them both together? Fuck! That would be a super hot scenario to be in!

“You need to go now!” a groggy, chained-up Will called out as Harry kissed Jac with passion in the middle of the room. “Run!”

“Hey, Harry!” Levi chimed in. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, despite not really being heard over the noise of his overzealous companion in the room. He sighed; finding the guy’s performance a little overdone. “Don’t worry about him,” he called to Harry. “I think he might be an actor or something. I’m not sure about the other guy,” he nodded across the room to the man in the ball gag.

“These are my piggies,” Jac announced before Harry could reply or even acknowledge Levi at all. “Are you ready to join them?”

“Hell yeah!” Harry nodded with lust, slipping down onto his knees and allowing the chains to be placed around his wrists. Levi felt a pang of excitement too. Now that the room was filled, maybe they would finally start getting going with this super kinky role play!

“You’re just in time for the show,” Jac grinned with excitement. “But, first things first…” he smirked, disappearing for only a second and returning with another cream cake, identical to the one Levi had eaten. “Are you ready to impress me?”

“Don’t eat it!” cried the man in the corner again, making Levi roll his eyes. The guy probably thought he was adding a sense of mystery and intrigue to this role play, however, he seemed to shout with such conviction that it actually became a bit of a buzz-kill.

“Eat it up, Harry!” Levi shouted across. “I’ve had mine. It was delicious!”

Harry did exactly as he was instructed, overcome with arousal for Jac and this scenario in much the same way that Levi was. Their keeper, Jac, laughing with delight as he saw the piggish way Harry guzzled it down with such enthusiasm.

As soon as Harry was done, Jac turned his back on him, looking instead at the man with the ball gag, in the corner next to Harry. Dripping in sweat, the man seemed reluctant to look Jac in the eyes, positively squirming as he became Jac’s focus. “I said 6.15, didn’t I, Piggy?” Jac smirked, holding up his wrist to look at his expensive watch as it ticked down the time. “And that is in fifty seconds from now!”

With that, Jac reached down, removed the ball gag and managed to unclip the cuffs on the man’s wrists with surprising speed. “Please… please don’t…” the muscular captive mumbled even after they’d kissed with surprising sweetness.

Jac seemed to revel in his whimpering. “No, Piggy. It’s too late…” he laughed.

“I don’t think I want to be a…”

“Awh! That’s just too bad, Piggy!” Jac teased him, with an obvious hard-on pressing against the crotch of his pants. “Just ten more seconds!”

Their lips met once more, but with a final surge of energy, the man seemed to tear himself away and quickly made for the door.

Jac simply stood with an even bigger grin on his face as he watched his captive flee. “Run!” cried Will. “Find the front door!”

“3…2…1…” counted an elated Jac, holding up his watch again as he kept a beady eye on the naked man staggering his way down the long corridor; the sounds of door handles being tried were all everyone, apart from Jac, could now detect from the escapee.

Suddenly, a loud moan was heard from the corridor, followed by the most tremendous burp that roared up with a fury. Jac laughed with sheer joy. His cruel eyes seemed to dance with fire and his smile was brighter than anything Levi had ever seen before. Then he left, following the fleeing man and closing the door behind them both.

Now, the shouting man in the corner lowered his head in defeat. “It’s too late,” he simply mumbled.

“Is he coming back?” new-boy, Harry, asked Levi, surprised that they had all been left alone in the room.

“Yeah, he’ll be back,” Levi nodded, keen to show his expertise. “This whole thing is kinky as fuck!” he growled, feeling even more aroused now that Harry was here as well.

“You boys have no idea…” the other man sighed, shaking his head in disapproval, but thankfully remaining silent thereafter.

The time passed with relative speed after that; now that Levi had someone to chat to in the room. It seemed that Harry was just as aroused as Levi was and they spent their time speculating over the many possible erotic scenarios that might unfold next; both of them very much convinced that the performance of the previously ball-gagged man in the corner had all been that of an actor. The other guy in the corner simply shook his head silently, only confirming in Levi and Harry’s mind that he was part of this storyline as well.

“Fucking hell! Another one!” Levi mumbled in surprise as he heard a new voice from outside of the room. Harry raised his eyebrows as well. It was true; someone else had indeed arrived at the apartment.

Levi looked over at their other companion, Will, trying to gauge whether he too was expecting yet another guy to be joining them that evening. However, as Levi turned his head, his nose picked up the stench of sweat. Will’s face and, indeed, his entire body was positively glistening.

“Jeez, dude! You stink!” Levi grumbled, having decided that he didn’t care how impolite he sounded. Will had been far too into his role and had spoiled some of the eroticism when both he and Harry had arrived.

In walked Jac once more; this time with a young, handsome guy that Levi thought he recognised from somewhere, although he wasn’t all that sure. Their dominant host introduced them all as the ‘piggies’ once again; Levi and Harry nodding with lustful pleasure to go along with it all. When Jac told the new boy to get down on the floor to be cuffed in the now vacant corner, both Harry and Levi cheered him on; as they did when his cream cake was served and the horned-up guy had to eat it all whilst on all-fours in his corner. This time, the previously vocal man in the corner was completely silent; perhaps reflecting on the fact that his earlier performances had been a little over the top.

After the initiation was done, Jac turned his attention back to the only man who had been there longer than Levi. “Oh dear, little piggy!” he laughed, seeming to notice just how sweaty the guy had become. “It looks like it’s almost your turn… How exciting!”

Jac leaned down and unlocked the man’s chains. Despite the guy’s resistance and overzealous approach to the role play earlier, he seemed to have changed character completely. He was now playing someone a lot more submissive, resigned to the inevitable as Jac lavished him with attention at last. The pair kissed and touched each other as if so desperately in love. But then Jac pulled back and laughed. He tugged at the guy’s arm, pulling him to the middle of the room, directly under the single hanging bulb.

“Are you ready to show these piggies what they’re in for?” Jac asked. “None of them have seen it yet. You’re the only one!”

The man was silent and he closed his eyes tight shut as he saw Jac raise his wrist to count the seconds ticking down on his watch. Levi didn’t know why he was so aroused. It was probably the done thing that they were all to run out of the room at this point, wherein the next part of this sexually charged scenario would continue. But the man didn’t seem as though he intended to move. Instead, all his muscles were tensed, as if he was bracing himself for a massive impact. His eyes were closed tight, as if he never expected to open them again.

“5…4…”

Levi and the other boys joined in, smiling with arousal as the sexy Jac toyed with them all.

“3…2…1…”

As all four of them called out ‘Zero,’ the man in the middle of the room suddenly doubled over slightly, growling as though a great wave of pain had just attacked his stomach. He lifted his head once more, then gave the loudest, most intense burp, as if there was to be no air left in his body at all.

Jac’s eyes danced with burning light as Will’s body started moving in the most unnatural manner; his hips rocking back and forth, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The coordination and choreography involved was really quite impressive, Levi thought. But then things started to get stranger and Levi stopped smiling with glee as something else began happening. Will’s stomach seemed to be bloating. He’d thought the guy had been pushing it out to start with, but now it seemed far too extreme to be explained away just like that. Now when his hips shook, there was a definite flutter of jiggle in what appeared to be love-handles actually forming on his sides. Jac seemed to have noticed as well, for inbetween his howls of delight, he began poking and prodding Will in the areas that were causing Levi to look up with such alarm. He wanted to look across at Harry and ask if he knew what this was, but the horror of it all kept his eyes glued in place. Will was literally changing before their eyes. There was no way that this could be anything but real.

The swell of Will’s stomach, inflating more and more, began to resemble a very real paunch in almost no time at all. Even his groin was filling with mass. With his side-on view, Levi could also so the width of Will also increasing. His thighs and butt were increasing in size, however it was obvious that there was absolutely nothing but pure fat being deposited all over his body. Pretty soon, his swollen tummy had an actual shelf below his chest; something else that appeared to be softening with extreme speed. As his body rocked, his nipples began to jiggle more and more, showing that Will no longer had the extreme athleticism that he once had. With his eyes still shut tight, Will looked like he was trying desperately to igore or fight back anything that was being done to him. His face was swelling with fat, stealing his jawline entirely and seeming to build itself, wrapping around his neck like a scarf and creating the beginnings of a small bump at the very back of his head.

Jac, hysterical with joy, continued poking and prodding the fattening man. He could now fill his entire hand with the blubber around Will’s waist and so he grabbed at it keenly, shaking and wobbling the fat as if to remind Will that this was actually happening to him. But Jac also took time to glance over at the three other guys, laughing as he saw the fear and surprise in their eyes.

Things suddenly became a lot more serious. The fat that had acumulated on Will’s stomach was now expanding further, reshaping itself with folds in the skin. Jac raised the guy’s arms in the air so that he could witness this phase better; the fat encircling his waist, making it look like a ball was being pumped from within. The fat from his chest had started gathering under his arms and his nipples seemed to slide out of place as they jiggled and bounced.

When Jac dropped the guy’s arms and slapped Will’s butt, Levi couldn’t get over how much the fat rippled across the glutes and thighs. What’s more, Levi hadn’t even noticed the gradual loss of definition in the guy’s muscular arms until they were now large, doughy and shapeless with fat. His neck was disappearing entirely, with large puffed up cheeks masking the striking man he used to be. As the gut pushed outwards, the fat simulatenously swelled into his back and rear, widening him in all directions. The man’s penis, once a prominent feature, was now almost entirely masked by the blubbery thighs and a strange sack of fat, like a small belly, that had filled Will’s groin, threatening to bury his penis entirely. Then, all of a sudden, the man’s swollen belly began to sag and the genitals disappeared entirely out of Levi’s view.

Every part of Will’s body now wobbled and bounced. Levi had no idea how massive the man had become, knowing only that he was larger than any of the guys he had ever checked out on the gaining websites and socials he visited. At some point, the great fattening spectacle ended and Will fell into the unnaturally strong arms of Jac, having clearly fainted. “You’re next, piglets!” he laughed, looking around at the three chained guys in the room, whilst holding the well over five hundred pound man up like an enormous teddy bear. Then, with complete ease, he dragged Will out of the room and shut the door.

“What the fuck!” shouted the new guy from the corner once they were alone. “Was that real?”

“I think so,” Levi nodded, somehow sounding calm.

“He told me not to eat the food,” Harry mumbled, pointing accusingly at Levi; his mind clearly recounting everything that had happened previously.

Levi felt a pang of guilt, having actively encouraged the other two to do exactly what Jac had wanted.

“He doesn’t care! He’s already fat!” the newest guy suddenly blasted, turning on Levi as well. “He probably wants this!” he growled with anger.

“I’m not fat like that!” Levi stated defensively, looking down at his small tummy. “Why are we even arguing about this?”

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Harry suddenly jumped in, tugging at the strong chains that held him to the wall.

“And what good would that do?” Levi asked. “I think we all know that whatever caused Will to fatten like that… it was the same thing that was in those cakes we ate.”

“Well, I’m not sticking around to find out,” Harry proclaimed with defiance, straining himself as he tried to pull even harder at the chains.

“Harry, come on! Be smart about this! You don’t even have any clothes.”

“So, what, we just accept that we’re toast?” the new guy added, outraged.

“We need to think about how we convince the next guy to run for it so that he doesn’t fall into this trap as well,” Levi reasoned.

“Coming from the guy who positively encouraged us to eat that cream cake?” Harry blasted angrily.

“I didn’t know that this was all real!” Levi tried to defend himself. “I was a little late. I didn’t see this happen to the other guys in here.”

“There were others?” the new guy asked with horror.

“It seems to go like clockwork. A new guy arrives every eighty minutes or so. It’s like some sort of twisted conveyorbelt,” Levi explained, suddenly remembering that he was next to reach the end of it.

The boys pondered on that idea for some time and they sat in silence, contemplating their fate. It was hard to tell how quickly or slowly time ran in that deserted room. Sometimes they would hear the distant sounds of Jac talking with someone on the phone, flirting with them in much the same way he had captured Levi, along with the other two.

“You sound so kinky…” Jac was heard to flirt. He seemed to be standing directly outside of the room, as if to deliberately tease and goad his chained-up victims. “I want to turn you into my big fat boy… Come over. Let me feed you!” He laughed and moaned down the phone, pretending to find whatever lustful retort his prospective victim came up with the most arousing thing he had heard all year. “My address? Are you really sure? I’m a very kinky guy, you know? I like to lock my boys up and feed them. Then I watch them fatten and grow for me.”

The three boys all looked at each other feeling extremely foolish. There was nothing that Jac had told them that wasn’t true. They’d all been warned; every last one of them.

Levi contemplated the transformation he had just witnessed, trying to convince himself that it had all been some sort of elaborate trick. Things like that simply could not happen in real life; not really. But he’d witnessed it himself; with his own eyes. Inexplicably, it somehow felt harder to recall the details as the minutes crept away; as if the memory of it was slowly being erased from his mind entirely. The time continued to slip by and Levi sat quietly, listening to the other two chatting with relative calmness, despite feeling no desire to join in himself. He felt like a black cloud was hovering over him, getting darker and more angry as the seconds ticked away. In fact, Levi was only pulled out of his own thoughts when he noticed a huge bead of sweat rolling down his nose and splashing onto the floor.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, suddenly noticing the way Levi was looking at his arms and torso.

“I think this is how it starts,” Levi fretted, lifting his arm and smelling the stench of sweat. He could hardly believe the words as they tumbled out of his mouth. “I think it might be my turn!”

Right on cue, the three boys heard someone new arriving in the apartment. “GET OUT OF HERE!” they began shouting; although none of them seemed to recall exactly why. It was just something they said they would do for a purpose that wasn’t completely clear in their heads. “HE’S GOT US LOCKED UP! CALL THE POLICE!”

As they shouted and wailed, it was clear that the voices were still getting closer and closer to the room. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked a smiling athletic guy, naked and already rubbing his own hardness as he surveyed the chains and other naked guys. “This is so fucking horny!” he grinned with arousal, only seeming to stroke his dick harder as the three of them tried to warm him. He swept in to kiss Jac, looking just as besotted as they all were.

After the kiss, Jac simply stood and listened to them shouting and wailing their warnings. His smile filled his face and Levi suddenly understood that this was actually his real game; where the thrill of his set up really gave him a buzz. He gave all his victims plenty of warning, yet they would all fall into his trap, no matter what. “You see that sweaty piggy in the corner?” he pointed at Levi. “The one with the blubbery, little paunch on him? He’s the next one I’m going to do it to.”

“What’re you going to feed him?” the latest guy asked, still stroking himself with absolute arousal.

Jac took the guy’s hand, stopping him from pleasuring himself and taking his first steps to control at long last. “First things first…” he smiled, pointing into the now vacant corner of the room.

Levi had given up shouting now, but the other two were still trying, watching as the handsome boy slipped onto his knees and allowed the chains to be fixed around his wrists. Then, with eyes filled with love and lust for his captor, the boy slipped onto all fours and inhaled the cream cake that was brought to him.

The two other guys fell suddenly silent, realising, just like Levi, that all their warnings were futile. Jac would always win.

“Come on, little piggy!” Jac smiled at Levi, bending down to unlock his chains.

Despite himself, Levi felt the semi he’d had since Jac came in suddenly stiffen into concrete. There was just something so all-consuming about the man’s presence. Even with everything Levi thought he knew, he still felt… in love.

“Now, you’re going to be a good piggy, aren’t you?” Jac asked him. “We’ve got to show the new boy what’s in store for him,” he stated seriously, positioning the sweaty Levi under the single light bulb, facing the newest captive, as if he was about to put on a show. “Hmm, what do you have to say for yourself?” he teased.

Levi swallowed, deciding that fighting this was not something he could physically do. “I’m a good piggy,” he nodded, looking earnestly up at the man he was most attracted to in the whole world.

Jac’s face spread with surprise and delight at Levi’s submission. “Oh, you are?” he laughed. “You hear that?” he called to the other three. “This one says he’s a good piggy!” He turned to speak softly into Levi’s ear. “Are you going to fatten up beautifully for me? Turn this little belly of yours into something spectacular?”

“Yes,” Levi nodded.

Jac smirked and raised his arm to look at his watch. “Do the countdown with me then, Piggy!” he whispered. “10… 9…8…”

Levi tried to join him, but he was at least half a second behind Jac each time; too overcome with the experience.

“6….5…4…”

Levi looked at the newest guy in front of him; his wide smile and naive understanding of where he actually was.

“3…2…”

Levi couldn’t finish. A deep, primal urge to roll forwards and hold his stomach suddenly overcame him. He moaned from the dull pain that seemed to be emanating from his stomach, then he suddenly stood upright, opening his throat and letting out the most insane burp of his entire life. He started to notice that his hips were shaking backwards and forwards, with Jac crying out in delight; his words incomprehensible to Levi at that moment with all the strange physical sensations that were ripping through his body. He placed his hands on his stomach, feeling it rising like dough beneath his chest. Then Jac smacked his hands away so that he didn’t block anyone else’s view of the transformation that was already beginning to occur.

“Look at him!” Jac was shouting, as Levi felt his butt being slapped and his love handle pinched. “Look at this beautiful fat! It’s fantastic!”

As Levi’s body rocked uncontrollably, he began to feel more and more areas jiggling. He knew his ass had started to swell, for it shook wildy. But then that jiggle started to spill out, into his thighs and even into his back. Since his little gain after the holidays, he’d already experienced a little movement in his chest, but now he felt his nipples shaking like never before, with the feeling of an odd mass beginning to surround his erect penis.

Levi knew that he had altered by quite a considerable amount, for the new victim in the corner now curled up against the wall, starting with shock and horror. Levi tried to look down, feeling a ring of fat squeezing into his neck. He saw his hands, unrecognisable with chubby fingers and mere dimples where his knuckles once were. Then, all of sudden, there it was: a giant mass of stomach that had created its own shelf beneath his doughy chest. Jac had slipped his finger inside the belly button and was using it to shake the incredible, soft lard that had formed such a giant tank on his body.

Standing up and keeping balance was getting harder. Levi readjusted his feet, but he always felt the strong arm of Jac pressing against his back, as if he knew exactly when he was needed to step in. Levi let his head rock back and rest against Jac’s broad chest, surrendering himself entirely to the fattening that was occurring.

“Ata, boy!” Jac cooed, enjoying Levi’s total surrender, allowing the magic of the transformation to tear through him without the slightest resistance.

Levi began to breathe deeply, feeling an incredibly warm and tingling arousal in his penis. He closed his eyes and moaned softly. He could feel his whole body swinging backwards and forwards like a large, increasingl heavy and speherical pendulum. But the feeling of arousal was so pleasant and comforting, there in Jac’s strong grip. He had no concept of how fat he had grown, but in that moment, he had no regrets in the slightest. It was as if Jac had been the person he had been waiting to meet his entire life.

“I think you’re going to be my fattest pig of the day,” Jac whispered, sending Levi into an inexplicably instant and intense orgasm that made him howl and his knees buckle, forcing Jac to hold him up entirely.

Levi felt his eyes grow heavy. The transformation over.

“You’re next!” he heard Jac laugh towards Harry. Then he felt his entire, monstrously obese body being dragged out of the room, with no idea what would come next.

657 notes · View notes

wyn-n-tonic · 8 months

Text

What Lovers Do

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: Awkward first time sex. Blood. Author's Note: I was talking with my friends about what sleeping with Bob might be like as a first time after it's been a LONG TIME since sex and this happened. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry. Whichever one you find the most fitting for you.

A new letter to add to the pile, every single one saved since you first started sending them.

Everybody called it old fashioned and silly. Told us we have computers and cellphones now and that the Navy isn’t prison, he’d have access. But there’s something that’s just stuck about it, about the joke that you’d write him every day until he sent one saying he was coming home

On one of the phone calls taken through timezones and half closed eyes, he said he liked it. He looks forward to mail call each day and he looks forward to coming back to base to find so many waiting for him that he gets to read like a book. He thinks, you think, that it tempered the hormones and the newness of it all.

A United States Postal Service version of courtship.

And now he’s coming home.

The boy you crushed over as a child on the swings while your mothers sipped coffee on the deck. The first boy you ever kissed with no knowledge of what kissing was or what it meant. In one of those letters, he brought it up.

Remember that time I kissed you when we were four?

You did, you do. He said it was what people who loved each other did, mommies and daddies. You were playing house, it made sense and, yes, you loved him. In the way that children understand love that is.

You understood this was a person in your life, you saw him all the time. For you, that made sense. He made sense and when he wasn’t there anymore, it didn’t make sense why you and your parents couldn’t go with him and his. Why they couldn’t stay.

And now he’s coming home. Three months after you started talking again. Three months after you walked into a dinner, a small party, thrown by your parents to welcome his back and found a grown up version of that very same boy from before.

He accompanied you to the store to get more wine and then out the door back out to those swings that were never taken down. Then in a walk around the neighborhood that turned into a drive around town that turned into talking on the phone and letters.

When the letters started, you weren’t even a thing. Truthfully, really, you don’t even know if you’re a thing now. It was there on the tip of both of your tongues, the idea was present. The letter he sent asking if you remembered the kiss is the same one where he confessed that he’d been harboring a crush his whole life. He said it was easier to tell you that way because, if you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t have to answer and he could suffer the rejection on a delayed timeframe instead of hearing the click of the phone as you hung it up.

The letter says today, which is not what he said on the phone last night. Today, at five, on a plane coming from San Diego. Except it’s six and you just read it and there’s no chance you can get to the airport and he’s not answering his phone. So all you can do is pace and check your make up over and over again attempting to have control over something. Sure, you could clean but you’ve already told him how messy you are and these are not cleaning nerves.

Truthfully, these aren’t even nerves you’ve had since prom night with another guy you didn’t particularly like in the back of a car you didn’t particularly feel comfortable in.

Three knocks then and one more glance in the mirror checking for a run in black tights, a stain on the white sweater or a rip in the skirt. Maybe smudged lipstick. Just anything to prolong answering the door if it can get these nerves down.

Because this is Bob, the one who makes sense. The one who, really, has always made sense. These nerves shouldn’t be here, there’s nothing about him to be nervous over.

Except you haven’t kissed him since you were four and the letter he sent said he couldn’t wait to do just that, that he felt like there was so much lost time to make up for.

Another knock and then the phone rings, both of them him.

Him, at the door, the lip pulled between his teeth quickly released as he drops the hand holding the phone up to his ear. “I'm sorry I didn’t come sooner, I needed to”—he swallows—“grow a pair.”

“Grow a pair?”

He shrugs, shoulder dropping just as fast as it was raised. “Couldn’t figure out if I should bring you flowers or be prepared to finally get that rejection.”

“So where are the flowers?”

He looks down at his hands and then back up, light catching his glasses and then his crooked smile. “None of them were good enough for you.”

“I’m not going to reject you,” you tell him, leaning against the door. “And I think that anything you brought me would’ve been good enough.”

“Well, I brought myself. How’s that?” His eyes squint a little on that, flicking up and down your body and not for the first time since you opened the door.

Which makes you realize that you’re still just standing there.

And it’s cold.

And he’s pretty.

And he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you; like he’s had this low simmering hunger growing in his belly for God knows how long. “Do you want to come in?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You're perfect,” you tell him, stepping aside to give room for his body to come through the door. “How was your flight? Have you eaten? Do you want—“

It didn’t really hit, at the dinner, how tall he was. You were just so excited to see him and to know that he was excited to see you, his height didn’t even register but he’s big. Big and leaning over you with his lips pressed softly against yours.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I just needed to do it because I would’ve been too nervous otherwise.”

Everything feels almost on fire with how close he is, the heat in the house suddenly becoming too much. You wish he’d done that in the open door instead of waiting for it to close.

“I only just got your letter today,” you tell him, ignoring his nerves in some kind of ploy to ignore your own. “I didn’t have time to clean or shop, I don’t have anything to cook for you.”

That makes him laugh, lips stretching across your cheek to let the noise tumble out against you. “Gorgeous girl, let me take you out to dinner the way I’ve been imagining I’d get to all this time.”

“You want to take me out?” Thank god you read the letter before you washed your face.

“Want to do a lot more than take you out to dinner.” He looks like he wants you to be his dinner. “But I’m trying to behave myself, I already know I’m coming off really strong.”

He’s not coming off strong at all, you’re just not really comprehending it. Not when he holds your hands so gently.

Not in the car, where he insists he’ll drive.

Not when he’s staring at you across the table.

It just makes sense and it’s fine. It’s good, actually. It’s comforting to sit beside him, his eyes roaming every inch that he can, and know that you don’t have to spill all your secrets because all the talking and the catching up you did all these months, through phone lines and fancy stationery, took care of that for you.

But it’s also still nerve shaking, the way he looks at you with so much reverence. It’s a respect that’s enduring even back inside your apartment, where he’s dropped his bags with an apology that he didn’t mean to be presumptuous but he also didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands, completely unprepared, if it turned out it wasn’t presumptuous at all.

“This is weird,” you finally tell him, pulling as far back as you can from where he’s pinning you to the mattress.

“Too strong?” He’s set his glasses to the side, on the table by your bed next to your book and the letters. You’ve been beneath him for the better part of an hour, kissing like teenagers in the back of a car.

Your head shakes. “I’ve just never slept with a guy on the first date.”

Bob’s chest is heaving, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle and he runs a hand through his hair (which really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but—holy shit) and smiles. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

He said once, in one of the letters, how people look at him and assume things about him. He looks scrawny in his uniform, geeky in his glasses; he’s got a consistent haircut and a baby face that always makes him look like it’s school picture day.

To everybody else, Bob is green—inexperienced.

And he uses that to his advantage with his quiet demeanor and his big hands and his capability.

Robert Floyd is very capable at what he’s doing as he unhooks the bra stretched tight across your back.

“You have a lot of sex, do you?” You ask, pulling away from him again.

His face is red, a blush that splashes out in random patterns across his face and chest, and he shrugs. “I’ve had my fair share,” he says, “the uniform does a majority of the work.”

“You're doing a lot of work right now.”

That makes a smile spread across his face. “A beautiful woman like you, everybody would be a fool not to put in work for you.”

“That's very sweet of you, Bob.” All that confidence you felt in the phone calls and the letters has long faded to make room for the heat running up your own cheeks. “Nobody’s ever really worked for me.”

His smile falters. “Is that self deprecating, sweetheart?” He doesn’t like the self deprecating, he hasn’t liked learning all the ways you pulled in on yourself over the years.

The look he gives you is a weight in the pit of your stomach, warm and blooming but also cold like steel. You can feel yourself pulling in on yourself and away from him the way you’ve feared you would. “Just a fact,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off the way you’re trying to shrug beneath his hold. “It’s been a while for me, I don’t really…” Your head shakes. “I haven’t been with anybody since college.”

“Really?” How anybody could suggest the man pulling away to sit up completely is inexperienced is beyond you. “I mean, if that’s what you wanted.”

It was but it isn’t like you didn’t have the chance. Which is what you tell him but what turned you off is how people reacted to it—just like him now. Separating himself with assurances that it’s okay. Of course it’s okay but it doesn’t make you less than or untouchable.

“You act like my grown back virginity is contagious, Bob.”

He huffs a laugh. “You can’t grow it back and, besides, it can’t have been that long ago. College was not that long ago.”

As subtly as you can, you attempt to put your bra back into place while reminding him you’re both closer to thirty than not. “It’s been quite a few years.”

“Not even one?”

Briefly, you consider asking him to go, to pick up his bags and come back tomorrow after you’ve both slept and showered. Instead, you say, “I lost my mind once or… you know, that’s what I call it. I downloaded one of those apps and swiped until something stuck.”

“Until something stuck?” He asks. He’s asking a lot, you’ve asked practically nothing. “What does that mean?”

“It means that”—you’ve given up on the bra, pulling it off and through your sleeve instead—“I swiped until I found a guy who looked kind of like the pictures my mom showed me from your mom’s Facebook and I…thought of you.”

His eyes don’t even follow the bra as you toss it to the side, breathing deep beneath his gaze as he puts it together with crimson brushing all the way up to the tips of his ears.

A beat.

Maybe two.

He’s still staring you down but not saying much else and that weight drops again, like a strong man game at the carnival. It went up with the hit to ring the bell in the middle of your chest before it slammed back to start with the same force you gave it. “Say something, Bobby.”

“I-uh—“ He clears his throat and runs his thumb along his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “I visited once just to see if I’d maybe run into you and, you know, I did… kinda. You were with some guy and I”—he clears his throat again—“may or may not have jerked off so hard my dick hurt for two weeks straight about it.”

Oh.

“What did the guy look like?”

“Well”—he leans forward, voice dropped low—“he kinda looked like me.”

It’s amazing how black his eyes can be when it looks like he’s got a trick or five up his sleeve. Only he’s shirtless and doesn’t leave you waiting for long, body launching across the distance between you to push you over and down again.

And it’s not quite like a weight in your belly now so much as a weight on your belly, heat radiating through his rough palms as they sneak higher and higher up your torso.

“I'm kind of scared to have sex with you,” he whispers against your lips, answering the question before you can even why, saying, “I'm afraid I won’t live up to your fantasies.”

“I'm afraid I won’t live up to yours.”

It’s not even a sentence he fully lets you finish, lips dragging across your jaw and hips pushing down against yours and the bunched up skirt. Bob Floyd is so not inexperienced.

He’s just subtle and private, even going so far as to close the bedroom door despite the fact that you live alone. This unassuming, private, quiet man who closes doors and says please and thank you as he’s asking for your shirt to go and pulling your tights down and off.

No bra, no shirts and no glances down your body because that would mean taking his lips off of you. But when he does dip low next to your ear to ask if he can look at you, it’s the easiest yes of your life.

It’s not nervous, you don’t want to cover yourself back up. It feels as good to be looked at him as it feels to have him on you. And, again, you have no idea how anybody could ever see this man as inexperienced or—what did he say?—Baby on Board is so beyond you.

“You're still really dressed,” you tell him, poking the belt buckle that looks close to snapping with the tip of your big toe. “You should take this off.”

His eyes fall to the space between your legs again and he smiles. “You're still wearing your skirt.” And the panties he didn’t take with the tights. “If we’re being completely fair here.”

“This is weird,” you say for the second time tonight. “We used to play in sandboxes together and now—“

“Now I’m trying to make good on my promise that kissing is what people who love each other do, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband, “so ladies first on this one.”

Ladies first, another thing to add to all his manners. All his manners and the dirtiest mouth. Because you can hand it to his colleagues on one front—he does not look like a man who knows the word cunt and he certainly doesn’t look like he’s ever used it.

And it’s working but it’s not enough to combat the nerves. Especially when he lifts himself up enough again to undo his belt, it’s like your whole body tightens up again.

“We don’t have to, “ he says for what feels like the seventeenth time. “We can just snuggle”—he laughs and shrugs—“or I could fuck off.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off,” you tell him. “I very much would not be naked if I did.”

Not even an hour ago, he was saying he didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands and now that’s exactly where it is. Dick in his hands, smile on his face. He’s beautiful.

“Can you even see me right now?” You ask him, grasping for something to cover the nerves.

He affirms that he can as he pushes himself back down against you, mouthing opening against yours and every muscle in your body tensing up beneath him. It’s some combination of nerves for how much you like him and nerves over how long it’s been.

It always hurt before and you know it’s not supposed to but it hurts now, too. He hurts but you tell him it doesn’t after you try your best for some air in the space between your bodies—your lips. It’ll get better, you promise him that it will and that you’re just nervous every time.

Really, it should. It does. Performance anxiety or not, it’s easy to relax around his presence and his gentle hands and the soft press of his lips as he gives into the way you grab at him.

Grasp at him, pull at him.

All of him and any little bit of him. There’s so much time and so many feelings to make up for. So many songs he could’ve broken your heart to already every time he had to say goodbye.

“What are these?” He asks, the drag of his knuckles against the heat of your face. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Baby.” All his worry in one word as he pulls away and out to sit up and pull you with him.

“Am I bleeding?” You ask, afraid to look down but aware of what every other experience has held thus far and exactly what the partner at the time sounded like when they pointed it out.

It makes you want to run when he looks down and nods. “I did hurt you.”

Your head shakes and he pulls you even closer, large hands grabbing to hold on as you’re shaking and cold until you’re close enough for just little whispered words. So quiet and warm as he tells you over and over again that it’s okay.

Of course it is, it’s Bob. The one who makes sense—who’s always made sense.

You tell him it happens sometimes—it happens every time—but that doesn’t seem to calm the guilt he’s feeling.

“You want me to kiss it better?” He asks, voice somehow even lower like you’re not the only two people in the apartment.

“I don’t want to.”

Bob brushes his fingertips along the swell of your cheek and asks, “do you really not want to or are you afraid that I’m afraid of a little blood?”

“Both,” you tell him, fairly certain the smile across your face is the reason he even asked that question to begin with. “It was a long day before I got your letter, I think that maybe I-I need sleep and”—you laugh—“maybe a fucking muscle relaxer or a Xanax. I hate to think I’ve made you feel unattractive o-or not good.”

“You didn’t,” he confirms and his hair is so messy with how many times you’ve run your fingers through it. “I could’ve been slower—“

“It wasn’t fast.”

“Still,” he says before offering to change the sheets. “Tell me where they are and you can go shower, I’ll join you in there.”

Parting leaves you pacing again, back and forth in the bathroom. Only, this time, you’re naked and ignoring the ache between your legs as you wash the make up off instead of fixing what was there over and over again.

In the reflection, you watch as he strips the bed. It may have been years but so many nights have ended like this but only for you. And it was usually tear soaked and lonely as you stripped the bed yourself and made it back up again.

Now, though, he’s here. He’s stayed here instead of leaving, whether by your own insistence or his—he didn’t leave.

His smile is the kind you could get used to, the comfort he has in this space around you already to be naked and open. This comes from all those letters and long, sleepless nights on your of the line, yeah. But it also comes from the childhood you spent together and the years that you didn’t.

In the shower, you pull him down and to your lips before he can even think about leaning over. The first one to kiss him this time, void of all nerves you’ve carried for hours up to just minutes ago.

He said it years ago, beneath the swings in your backyard. “This is what people who love each other do.”

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun maverick fanfiction #lewis pullman character

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lost-in-lamentation · 7 months

Note

It probably isn't the best pair, but could I suggest "I'll take over from here, you go rest" with Mammon?

(Or with Lucifer if it comes easier)

(Writer's block is a pain, I hope you can defeat that beast soon and I wish you a good day)

a/n: thank you for the well wishes anon (´ω｀) also praying that i can defeat it soon ..

prompt #2: mammon + “i’ll take over from here, you go rest.”

content: tired reader who needs some extra help getting errands done.

warnings: brief dizziness for the reader.

comfort. mammon x gen!reader (you/your).

you groaned internally when your d.d.d. pinged with a loud notification. during your study time, you always kept it on silent, with the exception of lucifer’s contact allowed to bypass the do not disturb settings. if your phone was going off, it meant lucifer had another task for you. with a sigh, you tapped your screen awake, groaning again when you saw that lucifer wanted you to run to multiple stores. you replied back with a quick “okay”, not wanting to stir lucifer’s mood. before heading out, you stopped by mammon’s room, poking your head through the doorway. a call of his name had the room responding in silence, and you realised a few seconds later that his car wasn’t in the room either. guess he’s out doing who knows what, you thought to yourself.

adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you set out for your first errand, which in hindsight, should have been your last. you weren’t sure what went through your head when you decided on the grocery store first. the amount of food for beel alone had you stopping for breaks as you carried the bags around. the second stop wasn’t much better; lucifer had definitely underestimated how many packages were at the postal office for pick up. the demon at the front desk had half a mind to ask if you needed assistance to take everything back, but with the cost of extra shipping, you end up grumbling “no thanks,” before putting on a strained smile and hauling your belongings out to the street.

you weighed your options once you got outside. beel would definitely be able to carry most of this, but he’d snack on the groceries before you even got halfway home. lucifer was not to be disturbed, of course. satan would most likely be holed up in his room reading, while levi would be playing games. mammon was nowhere to be found, and as for asmo and belphie; “out of the question,” you huffed. sighing despondently, you stuffed as much as you could into your backpack before sliding all the bag handles around your forearms. the weight made you dizzy and had you teetering dangerously from side to side. your teeth broke skin as you bit down on your lip, the effort of staying up and trying to hold everything going far past your abilities. finally, you took a shaky step forward, but a particularly heavy bag swung too far in front, sending you barreling towards the ground. you had given up, accepting your fate of crashing into a muddy puddle when a shriek from up ahead caught your attention.

you felt arms circle tightly around your torso, and your head landed on a shoulder you were very familiar with. “oh, mammon?” you practically slurred the question, your mind not all where it should be.

“that’s all ya have to say?!” mammon shouted at full volume, despite being right next to you. “seriously human, what are you even doin’ with all this?” he grunted with the effort to set you upright, tugging the bags off your arms and forcing you to get rid of the backpack that was dragging you down.

“lucifer asked me to run errands,” you said quietly, your hand clasping mammon’s shoulder to stabilise yourself. you failed to notice the red dusting mammon’s cheeks as you gripped even tighter.

the white haired demon hooked an arm around your waist in response, holding you up. “and you decided that you could carry all this?” mammon chided quietly when you shook your head, his gaze softening when he saw how quiet you were becoming. “okay, okay, come on. can you walk? my car’s over there.”

you blinked your vision back into focus, now seeing the way mammon had parked. you weren’t sure if you could say he parked at all, with the way it was practically on the sidewalk. “mammon, why’s your car-?”

“don’t ask, just get in there. i’ll take the stuff over,” he muttered, pushing you gently away before leaning down and grabbing a number of the grocery bags. by the time you had settled into the passenger seat, mammon was back with the second round of items, piling it into his trunk carefully. he headed back again for the remaining few, throwing what couldn’t fit in the trunk onto the backseat. “that would be a lot for even beel, ya know,” he exhaled, getting into the driver's seat next to you. “what else is on that list from my dear, older brother?”

“eh? weren’t you going out somewhere else?” you asked, not wanting to interrupt his day off.

“don’t be stupid,” mammon scoffed. “you nearly died just trying to hold everything.” you opened your mouth to protest, but mammon had his hand covering it before you could utter a word. “no. you look like you haven’t slept in ages so… i’ll take over from here. it’s just errands anyway. you need to get some rest.” mammon wasn’t gentle in his scolding, but the concern in his eyes told another story. “i’m taking you home.”

you pushed his hand away, giving him a hard stare. “i’m coming with you.”

the second born cursed his sin; of course he would let you stay. greed came in the way he never wanted you to leave. the tips of his ears turned pink, admitting defeat before he could. “fine. but you’re sleeping in the car until we get to the next store.”

“mammon, the next store is like, five minutes from here.”

“shut up. i’m taking the scenic route.”

a/n: and so, mammon drove around for an hour instead of taking you directly to the store

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

prompt list here.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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stellar-skyy · 1 month

Note

hihi! an iced english breakfast tea with father figure blade?

“iced english breakfast tea here, for... ah, who was it? Oh, of course! Blade!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: While on a trip, you receive a letter from a certain Stellaron Hunter. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. PLATONIC blade & gn!reader, brief silver wolf & reader, kafka & reader. father figure!blade. found family fluff. 0.5k words. iii. A/N: hi anon! this request was actually much further in the queue, but i finished it quickly so i thought i might as well post it now.

The letter is penned on bright white paper, covered in small creases that have been smoothed out. The writing on it is small, with some parts crossed out and rewritten, filling the entire page. In the corner is a small series of doodles in purple ink, crude drawings of the three Stellaron Hunters and you. The envelope is beside it with the wax seal broken, smelling faintly of spider lilies.

Inside, it reads:

[Name],

I hope this letter reaches you well, if it reaches you in the first place. I must admit I am skeptical of the effectiveness of the intergalactic postal system, but it isn’t as if there is another way to contact you, aside from tossing the letter into outer space and hoping it finds its way to the planet you are currently on.

I think this is the longest it’s been without seeing you since you were young. It is much too quiet without you around; Silver Wolf has attempted to fill the silence, but I hardly understand what she is talking about half of the time and I do not care to ask. When you return, you will have to inform me what ‘dps’ and ‘maxed out’ means, because I know asking her now will only give me a long-winded spiel about those video games she is obsessed with.

Despite you being gone several weeks now, it’s still been difficult to adjust to having one fewer member of the group. I have been turning the corner, expecting you to be there waiting for me, but I am constantly finding myself alone. Kafka tells me it’s the mother hen instincts, but she doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Silver Wolf has been asking about you non-stop, telling me she wants her Player Two back. She made me play with her for a bit, but according to her, I’m so terrible at the games that it isn’t even fun to beat me. I’m not sure what she means, she beats you all the time anyway, but when I told her that she just rolled her eyes.

Kafka misses you too, though she’s at least got enough emotional maturity to admit that out loud instead of sulking. When she found out I was writing this letter, she made me promise to tell you she can’t wait to see you again, and you’d better be taking care of yourself. I think she feels the same as I do, even as she teases me for it. Things just aren’t the same with one less person.

I know you’re wondering about me, but I’ll keep it short—I’m fine. My condition is no better than you last saw me, but it is no worse either. You don’t have to worry, and I mean that with honesty.

I trust you are using this well-deserved break to its fullest, taking in the sights and not causing any excess trouble. Elio doesn’t allow vacations very often—it’s a wonder he approved this one, with all the missions he’s sent us on lately—so make sure you take advantage of it. If you are in a tough situation, you only need to remember what Kafka and I have taught you: hit them fast and hard, and don’t leave any witnesses.

Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

Blade

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#platonic x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail #blade x reader #platonic blade x reader

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sil3ntfr34k · 18 days

Note

orr p1/p4 as platonic comforting thing…

Platonic!P1 Dude and P4 Dude Comforting Headcanons

(Also matching gifs this is so cool)

Postal 1 Dude

He’s actually the worst person to comfort you. WILL make it worse

Even if your anxious about just going to the grocery store because you don’t feel like socializing, he’s trying to convince you that something bad is going to happen and now you can never go to store at all

“I don’t feel like going…” “Whatdayamean?? Why don’t you want to go? You always wanna go somewhere, what if something is going to happen? It’s waiting for its moment to strike you, to take you from this world. No! You can’t go anymore! Just stay here, it’s safest here than being out there with those… vermin.”

Somehow, he’s spiraling before you,,, He doesn’t even know what the hell is going on, yet he’s in the corner facing the wall and hugging his knees

If it’s really bad, like your having a trauma response kind of bad, he’s making it worse. You could be hyperventilating on the floor, shaking and all, and he will be there crying over your body like your actually dying

Sometimes it feels like he makes it about himself, but it’s just that his anxiety is that bad

Postal 4 Dude

“What the hell is wrong with you🤨⁉️”

Has no idea what’s going on, ever

Has a mini heart attack when he sees you upset and immediately bombards you with questions. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you upset? Was it that asshat down the street? Because he was fucking with me yesterday too. I’ll kill him for you I swea-“

You gotta hit him with something soft to shut him up bc he will yap until you forget what the hell you were upset about

If it’s something like a trauma response or panic attack, Dude tries his best to be there but also be at a distance. He read one somewhere that it’s best to give someone who’s having an attack space and to just ‘watch’ over them. It still kills him inside to see you like that, but he knows he can’t do much to help

If he can, Dude will make Champ go sit with you. He’s seen service dogs do that before so in his head it’s a good idea. Until Champ is trying to play with you and is trying to knock you over,,,

Cue Dude dragging Champ back again by the collar, poor guy,,,

Afterwards, he will most definitely try to pry what’s wrong out of you, even if it’s something personal. It’s not that he’s trying to butt into your personal life or make you uncomfortable, he’s just concerned (and curious. What the hell could’ve made you act out like that???)

Overall, he’s okay to go to for comfort, but definitely not the one you should be going to for that. Unless you wanna get incredibly high or drunk (or both) afterwards as a compensation

#postal #x reader #p1 dude #postal x male reader #postal dude x male reader #postal headcanons #postal 4 #postal game #postal x reader #postal dude x reader #postal dude

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Text

Face Masks

summary: you discover that if there's one thing your friend Steve is a giant nerd about, it's skincare

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 973 words

You knock on Steve’s door for the second time, peering into the closest window tentatively. You’d been supposed to go see him at work to drop off the cassette you’d borrowed, but you could’ve sworn his shift ended at eight tonight, not five. When you’d gotten there, Robin had told you with a shrug that you should be able to find him at home, but he wasn’t answering the door.

You glanced behind you, just to make sure you hadn’t hallucinated his car in the driveway. He wouldn’t ignore you on purpose, would he? You haven’t known Steve long, but you consider him a good friend, and he always seems to treat you with a tenderness he doesn’t quite show to his other friends, even Robin. He finds excuses to hold your hand and calls you “honey” and smiles at you in this soft way that makes your insides turn to mush. You don’t think Steve’s the sort of guy who does all that for show, being sweet and flirty in front of his friends and then ignoring you when it’s just the two of you. That’d be…you can’t believe that about him.

You decide to give it one more try before going home, but your knuckles barely make contact with the door before it’s swinging open. “What?” Steve snaps, then blinks, his eyebrows shooting high as he spots you. “Shit, sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I thought you were the postal service or something.”

“I…it’s okay.” You’re staring at him, you know, but you can’t make yourself stop. You could probably blame it on the shock of having him spook you like he’s just done, but it may also be due to another surprise. “You’re wearing a headband.”

He looks skyward as if he’ll be able to see it, then back to you with a half-defensive expression. “I, um…yeah.” He shrugs. “I am.”

“I brought your cassette,” you explain yourself dumbly, still somewhat mystified. “Also, you have…dirt on your face?” You reach out to brush some of the brown clots off his cheek, but he bats your hand away.

“It’s exfoliant,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I was rinsing it off when you knocked.” He turns from you and goes back inside, but leaves the door open for you to follow. You do, curious, and trail him all the way to his bathroom sink, where Steve bends at the waist, splashing water on his face.

“Stevie,” you guffaw, staring in astonishment at the products lined up on his counter. “Is all of this yours?”

“Yep,” he says, patting his face dry with a towel. “Laugh all you want, but all this?” He gestures with a circular motion to his face. “It doesn’t just happen. It takes work. A process.”

You hold your hands up innocently, but a smile plays at your lips. “Hey, I respect it. Whatever makes you look like this is good with me.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow at your abnormally explicit flirtation. “Yeah? Good, because it’s all for you, honey.”

Your face warms, and you’re quick to change the subject. “So, what does it do? The exfoliate?”

“Exfoliant,” he corrects you. “It gets rid of any dead skin and leaves your face smooth.”

You nod pensively. You have always thought Steve had unnaturally soft, glowy skin.

“And this,” he says, picking up another bottle from the counter and squirting a small amount onto his finger tip. “Is moisturizer. It’s supposed to be anti-aging, so I’ll stay looking like this forever.”

You laugh as he rubs it into his skin. “Great, so the rest of us are just supposed to get old and ugly and you’ll still look like you’re in your twenties?”

“Pfft, as if you could ever be ugly.” Steve waves you off. “If you wanna try some for fun, though, you’re welcome to.”

You roll your eyes at him, holding out your palm, but he pumps the product into his own hand again, using his fingertips to smooth it onto your face. You stretch your neck for him as he works it under your jaw, and you’re sure he sees your nervous swallow.

“It feels nice,” you say once he’s done, touching your fingers to your cheek. Your eye catches on another bottle. “What’s that one do?”

Soon you’ve been exfoliated, toned, and are laying on Steve’s bed with a goopy mask covering everything but your eyes.

“Smells pretty,” you murmur, careful not to move your mouth too much as Steve comes to lie beside you, his own mask in place.

“It’s watermelon-scented,” he replies. “Supposed to brighten.”

You don’t really understand how your skin can brighten (is that the glowy thing?), but you’re enjoying this time with Steve, and the pleasant scents are an added bonus.

“Could I maybe do this with you again?”

Steve grins at you, not seeming to care as his face mask globs a bit around his mouth. “Totally! I do this once a week, but I have dry skin. We could make you your own skincare routine and everything. It’ll be fun!”

You smile back at him, endeared and a bit surprised by how into this he seems. “Okay, what would I need to do?”

“Well, first we have to figure out what kind of skin you have. Have you noticed if you get oily?” You shake your head cluelessly. “That’s okay. We’ll figure that out, and then plan out your regimen from there. I’m thinking a clay mask, exfoliant of course, maybe an overnight serum…”You listen to him ramble on, not really following and beginning to get the sense that a lot of your paycheck is about to go towards this new routine. Anything that means you’ll get to see Steve this excited, though—anything that means you’ll get to see Steve, period—is definitely worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve drabble #steve baby blurb #steve fanfiction #steve fanfic #steve fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington imagine #stranger things

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alittlefanatic · 1 year

Text

🍎Shall we Dance? - Ch 2🍎

You can find Ch 1 Here: Shall We Dance - Ch 1

Or here: Shall We Dance - WattPad

This chapter will switch between Wally and the Reader's point of view! This is just to flip back and forth on viewpoints in later chapters! I'll let you know when the POV Changes! <3

Art by: @kluelezz on Twitter

Wally's POV

The morning had arrived as I yawned, my hair in my face as I stretched to wake myself up. It was about seven 6 a.m but I couldn't help but lie in bed thinking about yesterday's events.

After the neighbor and I talked about what we needed for the competition, I went straight back Home in search of records to use. Thankfully I had a few that were in working condition that we both could use to practice, just slow enough to get some footwork down, they were some of my favorite records after all which helped ease my mind.

"I still can't believe they wanted to join a dance competition...I didn't know they were into dance." I grumbled to myself, putting my hand over my eyes. "Have I ever seen them dance before? Why did they even..? I thought they didn't even want to act again in a play, isn't that what the winner is rewarded with?"

My head hurt already, but I couldn't help but chuckle. It was all so silly in reality! My neighbor was always so excited about learning new things, I guess I really should have seen this coming, but still???

Shaking my head, I sat up out of bed, dragging my feet over to the side as I went and changed into my outfit for the day. Grabbing my blue cardigan and red tie, I quickly put both of them on as I sat down in front of my mirror, staring at myself with my hair down.

"I wish my hair could stay up permanently..." I grumbled, grabbing a brush to smooth it out, then tease it out, slowly forming the pompadour on my head as I grabbed some hairspray to keep it still.

"Home, do you recall if we have any books here about dance?" I spoke, and a very soft and quiet squeak was heard from the door as I shook my head. "I'll definitely have to grab some from Howdy or Frank today then. I need to be a good dancer for my neighbor! I can't let them down today! Or ever...I don't want to upset our dear neighbor."

After combing my hair, I headed straight to the kitchen, grabbing some apples to eat as a snack, and I looked out the window. The neighbor didn't live as far, fortunately, but they were near the forest near Eddie's Postal shop.

"It's better to be early than late, I might as well be on my way!" Wally spoke happily, looking at the time which read eight am. "Do I really take that long to style my hair...?" I shrugged. "What can I say, I always want to look my very best. You can't rush perfection~"

With Home opening the door for me, I made my way towards our Neighbors home!

...

Making it to the door, I knocked.

"Neighbor! I know I'm early, but I figured an early start is better than no start!" I spoke happily. I waited a couple of minutes until knocking again. Maybe they were still sleeping?

I heard some feet shuffling behind the door accompanied by a couple of groans, as I heard the click of the door opening.

"God, the sun is bright..." They grumbled, rubbing their eyes. Their hair was all messy and tangled, and it looked like they still had their oversized pajamas on. I couldn't help but chuckled. They looked so silly! Silly, Silly...

"Well, yes, neighbor, it is the sun. What do you expect?"

Neighbor rolled their eyes and simply waved me inside.

"Make yourself comfortable, I have some water beginning to boil for some tea. Let me just make myself look alive." They grumbled sleepily as they went to presumably go get changed.

I couldn't help but look around their place. The walls were a wonderful shade of light blue as there were fairy lights adorning the walls. They had many bookshelves of books, as well as many soft pillows and blankets. Neighbor sure did love to be cozy! I couldn't help but chuckle to myself when I heard the kettle. Walking over to the kitchen, I looked around, grabbing some green tea bags and some honey, I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and put the teabag in along with the hot water and honey.

"Ahh...that feels much better," Neighbor spoke, as I turned to look towards them. I could feel my eyes dilate as I looked at them, absorbing the new information. They had on a rainbow-striped short-sleeved shirt with some blue jean shorts with some black tennis shoes. Their hair was brushed neatly back and pulled back out of their face.

"Hello? Earth to Wally?" The neighbor waved a hand in front of my face as I shook my head.

"Sorry, neighbor! I like your attire -" I coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. They looked cute! Cute? Friendly cute! Yes!

Neighbor couldn't help but roll their eyes, taking the cup of tea I laid out and taking a sip. You could see them visibly perk up.

"Oh, that's some wonderful tea, thank you!" They spoke happily, taking another sip as they sighed. "We gotta get down to business today! I have nothing to wear for any of this, and I do have some books about dancing, just not about foxtrot..."

"I'm sure Howdy's open by now if you would like to hurry on over neighbor."

"Might as well! Besides, I want to ask around and see who else is in the competition! Maybe we can catch some of them dancing~" They spoke, drinking the last bit of their tea before putting it in the sink.

"Well, we know Eddie and Frank are competing since, you know... Sally pretty much ran to them after us." I spoke, Neighbor chuckling. "I wonder who else is competing, though, maybe Barnaby and Julie? It can't just be two groups. There needs to be more."

"Well! That's what we can go to Howdy's and ask! Being the shopkeep, others have to get things to right?" Neighbor perked up, grabbing my hand, obviously very excited. "Let's get going then!!"

Without even getting a word in, they dragged me right out the door to Howdy's shop.

...

Reader's POV

Hurrying to Howdy's shop, holding Wally in my hand, I barged through the door, the little bell ringing to signify people have entered.

"Oh? Neighbor! Wally! Welcome to the Bugdega. Can I help you find anything?" Howdy asked happily, fixing his little hat and setting down a box with his other set of hands.

"Hi Howdy! I was actually wondering if you had any clothes or books? Particularly about dancing!" I spoke happily, glancing around the store, walking up to a couple of pairs of shoes.

Howdy couldn't help but laugh. "Sally got to you to huh? I take it your joining in the competition?"

"Yes, we are, Wally is actually my partner!"

Howdy looked towards Wally, then back at me. "Him?? Wally, I thought you didn't know how to dance, nor cared to?"

Wally rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Neighbor wanted to, and they needed a partner! Simple as that! Can't I help out a good friend?"

Howdy gave Wally a certain look, I figured out Wally's face getting slightly red. "It's not like that!!" He grumbled, turning his head away as I raised an eyebrow, shrugging my shoulders as I went back to looking at the shoes, grabbing a pair of white tennis shoes with a red stripe down the sides. Walking back over to the counter, I put the shoes on them, then went to the books to search.

"Is it so unusual to want to try something different? It's getting hotter out and I'm bored! Besides, a little competition could be fun, and it's good to learn something new. How hard can it be to learn how to dance?" I spoke, finding a book about the different types of dances, as well as the basics, grabbing it as I put it on the counter.

Wally grabbed some water bottles, putting them on the counter as well. "Yes, exactly! Actually, Howdy, we were curious if you knew of anyone else wanting to join?"

Howdy put a hand to his chin, folding his other limbs across his chest. "Hmm... I do believe Frank and Eddie will be entering. I saw those two dancing the other night, as sweet as can be! You know how Frank loves to learn. He probably already has some knowledge, and Eddie is quick on his feet, so that's probably gonna be your main competitors! Other than that, I'm not sure, I believe Poppy was thinking about it but was too nervous, I know she still has time to decide." Howdy spoke as he began to put the items in brown sacks with the Bugdega logo on it.

"Hmm... maybe we can catch them in the act? Maybe seeing how good they are might give us a shot of what we are up against!" I spoke happily, Wally looking over wide-eyed.

"You mean SPY on them? That's not very neighborly! They deserve their privacy!"

"And we deserve to see how good our competition is~" I spoke with a smirk, looking over at Howdy. "How much?"

Howdy looked down at the items. "Hmm... tell me your best joke!"

I paused, thinking a moment. "Why do you tell actors to 'break a leg'? ...Because ever play has a cast."

Howdy erupted in laughter. Man, I didn't even think it was that funny, but his laugh was infectious, and I couldn't help but join in.

"Ok ok that's a good one. Let's hope you two don't get hurt during this. Dance injuries are no joke!" Howdy spoke, waving us off as I grabbed my new book and shoes, Wally grabbing the waters.

"You take care, Howdy! It's been getting hot!" Wally spoke, opening the door for me as we stepped outside, hearing the door shut behind us. I couldn't help but glance towards Frank's house. Wally looked where I was looking and raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, neighbor, let's go put these up -"

"Aww, come on, Wally, I'm sure it's fine to do a little bit of snooping~" I spoke, taking a step towards Frank's home.

"Neighbor, I swear if we don't go back to Home right now -"

I smiled, taking more slow steps to Frank's house before sprinting in its general direction.

"NEIGHBOR- UGH!' I heard Wally yell behind me before following after me. I smiled in victory as I ran towards the tall flower bushes near Frank's home as I knelt down behind them. He kept those for the butterflies and other insects to study. It would only make sense they he grew flowers for the bugs around him.

I could hear soft, slow music play, as Wally finally caught up to me, catching his breath as he sent a playful glare my way. I smirked, sticking my tongue out before motioning for him to be quiet and listen. It sounded like 'Can't take my eyes off of you' was playing, as I heard two voices speaking. Standing up, I peaked through the bushes and fence, seeing Eddie and Frank smiling.

They were both dancing slowly, Frank smiling happily as Eddie looked at him with adoration as the two practiced slowly. You motion Wally to stand up and watch, to which he obliged, staring at the scene ahead of us. He couldn't help but smile softly, and honestly, I couldn't blame him. It was sweet seeing Frank smile, as he often frowned. I couldn't help but be amazed at their dance moves, though. They almost seemed to be pros if it wasn't for Eddie at least, who fumbled on his feet and seemed to mess up on his cues. Frank had more rhythm between the two, but in the moment, it seemed neither of them cared. They were just happy to dance with each other.

Wally and I looked at each other, nodding in mutual agreement to give them some privacy. We sneakily and quietly got out of earshot and began to make our way back towards home.

"Did you see that?? Wasn't that so sweet??" I couldn't help but swoon. I was a sucker for romance. What can I say? I loved reading romance and falling in love with other characters. But loved always seemed to avoid me, maybe one day though someone would sweep me off my feet.

"They are dating after all. Though, it does seem like we have some good competition." Wally chuckled, though I couldn't help but be off in my own dream world.

"I hope one day someone will look at me the way Eddie looks at Frank." I sighed happily, to which Wally chuckled.

"I know someone will. You are the most, I'll say." He spoke simply. I rolled my eyes. He's my friend, of course he would say that!

Finally making it to Home, it opened its doors for Wally and I, as I held onto my book, walking to and sitting on the couch while Wally put the waters on the counter. "We got some supplied, I got some records. We should read through the books next to get a better idea, yea?" Wally spoke, coming to the couch to sit next to me, as I opened the book.

"Yea, that might be a good idea... I do have some musicals that we could watch as well. If you want to, I could read the book to you, and tonight we could watch some movies? Just to get an idea."

Wally smiled, nodding as he looked towards the book. "That's more than ok with me, neighbor." He spoke, sitting with his head against his hand. I couldn't help but smile as I scooted close to him, as I began to read from my book, feeling a pair of eyes on me on occasion as I spoke. Though it was a small start, it was a start in the right direction. I didn't mind reading to Wally anyway, and based on how relaxed he was?

I don't think he minds either.

Authors note

I know this was a more mundane chapter, but we're going to be getting into more fluff and crushes next chapter, so be prepared~

Lovely original request by @conchoyster

#wally darling x reader #welcome home requests #welcome home x reader #wally darling #welcome home #wally darling x y/n #wally x reader #wally x y/n #frank x eddie

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