#(despite what Jonathan himself says)

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Jonathan continues to be the most relatable character ever

[jonathanbyersdeservesbetter]

everyday I think about jonathan and will being direct opposites despite their similarities

jonathan being a friendless loser who is insinuated to be a victim of bullying (even if it's mostly "small" things like getting tripped, ignored, or gossiped about) with no one outside of his family vs. will who's also deemed a loser but he has the party, who all have a beautiful friendship with each other

jonathan who is implied to be directly, physically and verbally abused by lonnie vs. will who was definitely at least emotionally and verbally abused, but who jonathan and joyce likely tried their best to protect from lonnie and doesn't seem to be 100% aware how bad it actually was (still abused though)

jonathan who was likely working around the age will was at the start of stranger things season 1 vs. will who never applied for or worked a job canonically (to be fair their financial situation was a bit better b/c of government hush money, but jonathan was still working despite going to school and was evidently stressed about money in s3 in his argument with nancy)

jonathan who was shown wearing older/rattier clothes vs. will who has relatively cleaner clothes (i saw a post with photo evidence re: this, will reblog if I can find it again)

jonathan with his sharp ass eyes vs. will with the BIGGEST, SPARKLIEST eyes known to mankind

jonathan with his eldest daughter energy vs. will the BABIEST of baby brothers

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before? 

“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you. 

You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”

There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.

“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”

“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”

The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly. 

“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”

You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.  

You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”

You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette. 

Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown. 

Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”

You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing. 

“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”  

“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”

“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”

Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend. 

“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”

You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something. 

You wondered if he’d find it. 

“Not everyone?” You whispered. 

“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”

Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be. 

“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”

Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact. 

The silence was too loud now. 

“I could show you, if you wanted.”

Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes. 

He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”

The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”

You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air. 

“Show me.”

You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour. 

He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle. 

He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls. 

A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out. 

You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him. 

He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.

Dizzy. You felt dizzy. 

“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer. 

You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough. 

“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?” 

You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too. 

“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”

“Wait.”

Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”

“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”

You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”

Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again. 

I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason. 

He simply pressed his lips to yours. 

It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own. 

He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar. 

You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper. 

After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”

“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”

You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—” 

Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own. 

He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning. 

“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”

Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”

“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”

“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”

Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position. 

“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”

‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he  had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”

You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”

Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin. 

“Kiss me.”

 So you did. 

You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own. 

It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise. 

“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak. 

“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”

He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else. 

“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower. 

You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you. 

“Yeah?” Was all you asked. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”

You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours. 

“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question. 

Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control. 

You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch. 

You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder. 

And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home. 

You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed. 

You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before. 

Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans. 

And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.

“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”

[samwise1548]

Based off of a personal experience I had earlier last week. Sometimes I forget Christian holidays exist despite them being treated as the most important thing ever by the majority here. And I think Jon would do the same thing (I'm projecting).

------

[ID: A Magnus Archives comic featuring Timothy Stoker, Sasha James, and Jonathan Sims.

Tim is a light brown skinned, Puerto Rican man with bleached bangs, short brown hair and a mustache. He's wearing a light blue Hawaiian shirt with sharks on it that are each wearing a red Santa hat that matches the one on his own head. He's also wearing a green boa with bells around his neck.

Sasha is an black British woman with dreadlocks that are all bleached at the ends and yellow glasses. She's wearing antlers on her head, and a white and red knit sweater.

Jon is a brown man with short black and grey hair and rectangular glasses and a mustache. He's wearing a two piece navy blue suit, over a white shirt and black tie. He's holding a brown satchel.

Panel one) Tim and Sasha are waving goodbye to Jon as they leave. Tim says "'night, Jon. Happy holidays!" Sasha says "Don't stay too late. And have a happy holiday!" Jon, off to the side is in the middle of equipping his satchel.

Panel two) A close up of Jon and he finishes putting the satchels strap over his shoulder. He watches his colleagues leave off screen. There is a visual sound effect of the door closing.

Panel three) Jon let's go of his satchel and thinks to himself with a slightly confused and awkward ecpression, "Wait... What holiday is it this time?"

\End ID]

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[imfinereallyy]

Steve always tells people "I love you" before saying bye to them. Maybe it's the years of Upside Down trauma, worrying that these words could be his last. Maybe it's the fact his parents never say it before leaving (if they even bothered to say anything to him at all). Maybe it's because each time his parents were away he thinks that this might be the time they never come back, and he isn't even sure if they love him. Maybe it's due to his years of King Steve, hurting others more than loving.

It doesn't really matter though, the why. What matters is that Steve has made it his mission to always do it before his goodbyes (especially after round three of the Upside Down). Always making sure to even say a quick "Love you! Bye!" as he is rushing out the door.

At first, everyone is a bit put off by it. Especially Nancy who at first thought it was a love confession until Steve turns to Jonathan and says the exact same thing. The kids think he's being gross and mushy, even an exasperated "mommmm" is thrown in his direction every once in and while. Robin is the only one who is receptive to it right away. A soft, "love you too dingus" she says to him, no matter if they are attached to the hip or in a screaming match that day.

Eventually, though, everyone accepts this as Steve's new normal. Gentle smiles, light snorts, and bruising punches (thanks max) are the responses given. But then after round four of the Upside Down, everyone seems to now embrace this part of Steve. Never forgetting to say "I love you too" in return.

Steve's heart comes a little closer to healing each time.

Steve only begins to realize it's a problem though when it comes to Eddie.

Steve finds that Eddie is the only one he has to resist saying it to. See, Steve over the years has become better at providing verbal affection. Note, his "I love you's" had blossomed into "I am proud of you" and "I'm worried about you" and so much more. He has grown out of the years of repressed emotion (well, he was actively learning to at least).

What Steve hasn't gotten better at is touch. Steve yearns for it, craves it in fact, but can't find it in him to reach out. His fear of rejection is too great. And Steve's friends don't really give out touch to those who don't actively seek it.

Eddie though may be the touchiest person he has ever met. It's small stuff at first.

A shoulder brush.

A clap on the back.

A poke in the ribs.

But then it soon turns into bigger stuff.

A boop on the nose.

A tug at his hair.

A goddamn hug from behind.

It's overwhelming, it's intoxicating. Steve can't really tell if it's good or bad for his health. And Steve knows if he asks Eddie to stop he will. Despite his touchy tendencies, the guy understood boundaries. But the problem is that Steve doesn't want him to stop.

The problem is that Eddie's constant physical affection is starting to collide with Steve's need to express verbal affection. The problem is Eddie is starting to fill the rest of the void in his heart. The problem is Steve...

The problem is Steve has to stop himself from expressing his normal "I love you's" because he knows it will mean something different, something more this time. He knows everyone will notice the difference after their years of hearing him say it.

So, Steve never says it to Eddie.

It's no biggie really. Or so Steve thinks until Eddie corners him in the kitchen during one of their game nights.

"Steve, do you...do you have a problem with me?" Eddie asks shyly, staring down at his boots. It was an odd look on him as Eddie was normally larger than life, commanding a room. It hurt Steve to see him like this.

"What? Why would you think that?" Steve asks shocked.

"Not really a no, Harrington." Eddie chuckles darkly, "And don't think I didn't notice but you kinda have a hangup about saying I love you to everyone except me. And ya know, I wouldn't really be offended really if it was cause we haven't known each other very long and ya know, cause I'm a guy. But then, I see you saying it to Argyle. Real easily in fact. And it wouldn't bother me if it was because we weren't close, but Stevie—" Eddie's voice cracks a little, as he slips into his nickname for Steve. Steve knows now, how serious Eddie is being. "—you've gotten to know me better than anyone in this whole stupid state. And that's including Wayne. Hell, you might even be my best friend even though I'm not yours. I'm not delusional I know no one can knock Robin from that spot." Eddie is rambling so hard that he gives Robin a run for her money. Steve thinks for a moment, that the two have been spending too much time together.

Steve stays silent as he walks towards Eddie to stand directly in front of him. Eddie continues without noticing. "Then I worry, it's because maybe. Maybe it's because you found out that I am gay. And that, you had a problem with that. That you have a problem with me." Eddie's voice starts off shaky but then turns into steel as he finishes. He makes sure to keep direct eye contact with Steve, driving his point.

Steve first thinks, wait Eddie's gay? Then Steve processes everything, panics, and loses his filter completely. Throws his worry about losing his best friend (don't tell Robin, but she's his soulmate so she'll forgive him) out the window, and throws his heart on the table instead. "Jesus, no Eds. I—shit. It's not that at all. Like I don't care about that stuff. You know that. I love Robin regardless."

Eddie gives him a look that screams, we both know why it's different. Steve pushes forwards anyway. "And it's not that I don't want to say it to you. It's just, it's different okay. Like with everyone else, I don't have to worry about it being bullshit. And god that sounds bad, but I don't know how else to say it. And I just know if I say it, if I say it you'll just know it's different, and then you'll hate me and it's one thing for the others to not say it back at first, but I think it might kill me if you didn't. And that's not fair to put that pressure on you." God, now Steve could give Robin a run for her money.

"Sweetheart—"

Steve cuts him off, he knows if he doesn't say it now he won't say it all. "God Eddie if you knew how much I cared—if you knew how much I worried every time you leave. If you knew how much I worry about how I don't say it to you when you leave, how I might not ever get to say it, it would terrify you, Eddie. This isn't a normal amount of affection. This is like—what's the word—astronomical amounts of affection. Cause Eddie, it takes everything in me every single time you walk away to not say I. Love. You."

Steve hears it, how he says it. He knows how it's going to sound before it comes out. How it's different. How it's more. Steve closes his eyes in shame.

Eddie's hand cups Steve's cheek. "Baby."

The hush, but the firm tone makes Steve open his eyes. Eddie has gotten so close they are breathing the same air. Steve's heart stutters.

"Baby," Eddie says again, before giving Steve the one affectionate touch he hasn't gotten yet.

A kiss.

A soft, heartstopping kiss. A kiss that has Steve's soul bursting at the seams.

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, feeling content for the first time in weeks. Knowing this was Eddie's way of saying it back.

Though, the delicate "I love you too." that Eddie whispers against Steve's lips doesn't hurt either.

Not even a little bit.

—

sometimes I set out to write a quick little thing…and sometimes that little thing turns into a big thing. enjoy :)

p.s. I apologize if there are any tense changes, I wrote this at 1 am lol

[kennahjune]

The fic thing you guys are so adamant about:

Steve knows— KNOWS— that Eddie Munson is not weak.

Eddie Munson threw him against a wall the moment he laid eyes on him— it was safe to say that Steve was aware of the strength his boyfriend possessed.

And the thing was; Steve found it hot.

He found it so fucking hot— Robin was so tired of hearing about it.

Steve didn’t think he’d be into it, figured he’d enjoy being the strong one in the relationship. But /man/ he loved watching Eddie haul around that band equipment like it was basically nothing.

So yes, Steve was into Eddie’s not-so-hidden strength. What of it?

He just hadn’t realized /how/ into it he was.

It was hot outside, like— blistering hot. Everyone was gathered at Steve’s house as per usual. All the kids and most of the adults and older teens were outside in the pool or on the patio. Steve himself was in the kitchen with Robin and Argyle, enjoying the AC and a fabulous conversation.

A conversation that was immediately ruined by the glass door flying open so fast Steve was scared it would’ve shattered.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie! Careful with my door, man!!”

Eddie had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Told Dustin and Max I’d get them drinks from the fridge.”

“What about the whole ass cooler me and Jonathan dragged out for them?”

“Dustin wants Fanta and Max wants apple juice. You know how vicious they are, baby.”

Steve groaned, shoving Robin’s shoulder and kicking lightly at Argyle’s leg when they had the audacity to laugh at him.

“Ungrateful little fuckers.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah they are.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Whatever. I think the apple juice is in the fridge downstairs.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie kissed him on the forehead on his way through.

“No problem!” Steve yelled after him, ignoring the snickers from Robin and the smooch-y noises from Argyle.

When Eddie came back upstairs with the apple juice to get Dustin’s Fanta, Argyle, Robin, and Steve don’t even notice. They’re much too absorbed in their new fabulous conversation.

“Yeah but that’s what I’m saying, Rob! If I were to shoot you just as you stabbed me it’d probably do more damage!”

“But /why/, Steve? Why?” Robin asked back.

Argyle answered for Steve. “Probably because he’d be shooting you point-blank. More internal damage that way.”

Steve snapped his finger at him. “Exactly! See, Robin? Argyle gets it just fine!!”

“That’s cause you guys are smoking the same shit!”

“Bull! Jonathan does to!”

“Your point is?”

Eddie chose not to intervene on that conversation.

But Steve was right in front of the fridge.

Eddie’s two brain cells made a plan.

Eddie set the apple juice container on the island, still going unnoticed by the other three in the kitchen with him. He moved swiftly to Steve and put his hands tightly on his waist.

Before Steve had a second to say anything or even comprehend the hands that were suddenly on him, Eddie was lifting him up and setting him on the counter by the fridge.

“Excuse me, sunshine.”

Eddie opened the fridge but kept one hand on Steve’s knee. With his head in the fridge looking for the Fanta can, Steve’s totally and utterly flustered state went abruptly unnoticed.

When Eddie closed the fridge, he leant in and stole a small kiss from Steve’s lips before leaving back out the patio doors with the drinks.

“I-“

“Shut it, Buckley.”

Steve went outside to drag Eddie back in. Later, if anybody were to have asked Argyle and Robin where either went, they both answered with shrugs and claims of “I don’t know”, despite watching the boyfriends run upstairs together.

[slut4thebroken]

Safe

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe… by any means necessary.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, attempted? SA (not by Jon), manipulation, walking red flag lol, house wife kink?, praise, painful sex, sub space, crying, dacryphilia, breeding.

Words | 2.3 k

Notes | Finally finished the fic from this lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You were kept properly fed and fucked, what more did you need? 

The first time you asked to leave after partially moving in, he was almost offended. He gave you a short “fine, if you want to put yourself in danger, go ahead” and walked away. You didn’t leave, except to occasionally stop by your own apartment. Usually he'd do that for you though. 

The second time, you didn’t ask, you just brought it up. You wondered what he meant by that. “The world— but especially Gotham— is full of people who want to take advantage of you and hurt you. They see your kind heart as a vulnerability they can exploit. Do you understand?” 

“But.. that’s never happened before?” You said meekly. Despite living in one of the most crime ridden cities in America, nothing bad has happened to you yet— you’ve lived a perfectly average life. 

“You were lucky. But that luck will run out. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He said, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “I care about you too much to do that to you, that’s why I’m not forcing you outside.” The way he twisted his words around to make it seem like he wasn’t forcing you to stay inside was completely lost on you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Jon.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I know it’s scary. Would you like me to help you get rid of that fear?” He cooed, making you blush at the implication behind his words. 

He wanted to be gentle with you… but thinking about how scared you’d look in a situation like that made it hard to control himself. He tried not to get too impatient while he ate you out since he knew you needed the preparation… Once your words were becoming a little incoherent as you begged and pleaded senselessly, he decided you were ready enough. You still struggled to take him, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. You didn’t dare say anything though because of how desperate you were to please him, not wanting to ask him to wait even longer for what he needed. 

“Do you know what those men want to do to a sweet thing like you?” He said, his thrusts slowing into a rocking motion. “They want to take every last ounce of innocence and kindness you may have. And do you know how they’ll do that, my love?” You shook your head, trying to focus on his words and not the feeling of his cock inside you. “They’ll fuck every single one of your holes until they either get bored or interrupted. But they won’t be gentle with you, like I am.” The thought of them being less gentle than Jon was almost unfathomable. You whimpered and bit your lip, not wanting to think about something like that. “No..” He chuckled quietly. “Animals like that don’t care about you. You’re just a set of holes to them.” 

“Jon..” You whined, brows furrowing. 

“I’m just trying to help you understand, angel. I’m keeping you safe, why do you always have to question me?” He frowned, making you falter. “I thought you wanted to be with someone who cares about you and your well-being. If you don’t, then maybe we’re not meant for each other,”

“No! No, I- I do want that— want you. I’m sorry for questioning you, Jon. I won’t do it anymore, I promise.” You begged staring up at him through your lashes as your eyes started to fill with tears at the thought of him leaving you. 

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I promise I won’t be mad.” 

“No, I want to be with you. Please.” He wasn’t quiet for long, but it was long enough to make you start rambling out pleas. “I’m sorry for questioning you, I know you’re just trying to keep me safe. Please don’t leave me, Jon.” You whimpered, making him shush you gently. 

“It’s okay, little one. I’ll stay and keep you safe, don’t worry.” 

To really drive the point home, he staged something. He asked you to go to the store for a few things since it would close before he could get off work. You were on your way back, almost to the apartment building, when someone grabbed you, dragging you back into an alley. The bag fell to the ground and he roughly shoved you against the wall, covering your mouth when you started to scream. He pushed you into the wall with his body, his bulge digging into your hip, and as he started ripping off your clothes, all you could do was cry. You didn’t know how else to react. 

Your shirt was discarded to the floor and when he started forcing your bra off, you tried to put up a little bit of a fight, but he just grabbed your neck and slammed your head into the wall. You whimpered at the pain, hands going limp and dropping to your sides. He finally removed the garment and you barely registered the cold air on your nipples. 

“Yeah, look at how fuckin hard they are— You like this shit, don’t you?” He asked smugly, making you shake your head, but you immediately stopped when your vision started spinning. “I bet this pussy’s wet too.” He pushed your skirt up, then roughly cupped your sex over your underwear, making your cries turn into violent sobs. 

“Hey!” His body was suddenly gone, making you collapse to the floor. “Angel?” Your head snapped up once you registered his voice. 

“Jon?” You whimpered, trying to suppress the sobbing. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He put your shirt back on, then grabbed your bra and the bag before helping you up. Once you were inside his apartment, the crying came back full force. He hugged you and cradled your head, holding you against his shoulder. 

“You’re okay— you’re safe now.” He whispered, holding you tighter. “I’m so sorry, little one. I should’ve never asked you to do that.” He brought you over to the bed and had you lay down. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite discern. 

“My head.” You whimpered, the pain intensifying now that you were thinking about it. He got up to get you some painkillers and water, then laid down next to you and wrapped you up in his embrace. 

“You might have a concussion, so you have to stay awake. Can you do that for me?” You whimpered and shook your head, feeling so incredibly exhausted. “I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay awake. Can you please do that for me?” You wanted to please him so badly that, despite the fact that you were struggling to keep your eyes open, you agreed. All you could think about was what just happened— over and over again. You let out a choked sob and turned your face into his chest to muffle your cries. 

“I was so scared, Jon.” You whimpered, fisting his shirt to ground yourself. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Let me help you forget.” One of his hands started snaking down your back until he reached your hip. He grabbed you hard enough to make you whimper and moved you to lay partially on top of him. “We need keep you awake too.” He said softly. When you felt his bulge against your stomach, your body started trembling even more intensely. 

“I know this may seem hard, but you know I only want what’s best for you. I would never do anything to hurt you, angel.” You nodded with a sniffle and he gave you a pleased smile, then pulled you into a kiss. His hands roamed your body, making you wince when he dragged his fingers over the scratches on your back just a little too hard. 

He quickly removed your clothes and once you were completely undressed, he rolled both of you over and settled between your legs. With gentle hands, he pushed your hair out of your face and wiped the drying tears from your cheeks. You’ve never looked prettier than right now, your eyes glossy and wide from fear, and your lips trembling, staying slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths. 

“My sweet girl.” He cooed. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again. If that means letting you move in with me fully, then I’m more than willing to make that sacrifice for you.” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared up at him with teary eyes, but your expression showed that you still weren’t completely convinced yet. “It’s up to you, darling. Whatever you need, I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you, Jonny.” You whimpered and he clenched his jaw when you used the name you only use in a certain headspace with him. He always took advantage of these moments. The ones where you were pliant and needy and too dumb to know what you wanted.  

“Of course… I love you so much, little one.” Your cheeks flushed and you looked away from him, embarrassed. He knows how those words affect you which is pretty much the only reason he says them. He cares for you obviously— he’d kill anyone who’d lay a finger on you… except the people he hires for that— but he doesn’t love anyone. Not even you.

“I love you, Jonny.” You whined. He leaned down to kiss you as he worked on opening his pants and removing his cock, making you let out a startled moan when the tip brushed your folds. It took a little more force than usual because he’s been hard since he saw you in the alley and he couldn’t give two shits about foreplay right now. When he finally breached your opening, you let out a pained whine that was overshadowed by his groan. 

“Every time feels like the first time I fucked you.” He said through a breath, leaning his head into the crook of your neck as he panted quietly. “So fucking tight and hot and wet… best little cunt I’ve ever felt.” He moaned quietly. 

“Jon…” You whined and he could practically feel the blush on your neck. 

“I’m sorry, angel, I can’t help it. You feel so incredible, you deserve to know how good you make me feel.” He didn’t let you try to respond before slowly dragging his hips back until only the tip was inside, then forcing his cock back in just as slowly. He got lost in the feeling of slowly rutting into you, your whimpers music to his ears as you just laid there and took it. 

“If you decide you want to stay with me, you won’t even have to go outside— I’ll take care of everything for you.” He cupped your cheek as his eyes bored into yours. “All you’ll have to do is clean up around the house, have a warm meal ready when I get home, and take my cock whenever I need. You won’t have to worry about anything else.” He promised. 

You nodded, staring up at him as your bottom lip trembled. He could tell you were still in pain, but you were already fucked dumb enough that you either didn’t feel it or didn’t care. 

“What else did he do to you? Did he touch you?” He rasped, trying not to sound too eager as he snaked a hand down to rub your clit. Your shaking intensified and you let out a quiet whimper as you nodded again. “Where?” You whined and looked away from him. He could tell you wanted to stay quiet, but his tone showed that he was expecting a response. 

“There a-and… my chest.” 

“I’m so sorry, angel… Were you scared?” He was getting close now. 

“Yes.. I thought— I…” You cut off with a strangled sob and he used his free hand to cup your cheek again. Your crying picked back up and tears were streaming down your face, making his cock throb almost painfully.  

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s over now.” Despite his words, you continued crying. Because it wasn’t over. He knew you weren’t in the mood, but he also knew that you were too stupid to realize that right now. You were too stupid to realize he was just finishing what that man started. 

His hand moved down to roughly grope your tits as his fingers picked up on your clit. You were practically frozen beneath him. You weren’t grabbing his hair or clinging to his shoulders like you normally would. You were just laying there limply, taking his cock like a good little girl should.  

“I’m so close, angel. Just a little longer.” He said through a breath. You were whimpering and moaning quietly because of how rough he was being, and he couldn’t help but smile at how pretty you looked. Your lashes were damp with tears as you continued crying, your brows scrunched together from all of the physical and emotional pain you were enduring… 

With one final thrust, he fully buried his cock inside you and let out a low groan as his head fell downward, resting in the crook of your neck. He removed his hand from your clit and wrapped his arm under your shoulders and head, hugging you tightly, making your whimpers and cries get a little louder. He reveled in the way your body was trembling and the way your cunt was practically suffocating his cock because of how tense you were. Grunting quietly, he rode out the rest of his orgasm, only loosening his grip on your body once his cock stopped twitching. 

“Good girl.” He whispered, placing a tender kiss on your neck. He waited until his heavy breathing returned to a normal level, then pulled back to look at you. “I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He said softly. “I’m going to keep you safe, little one. I promise.” Safe from everyone but himself. 

I edited the taglist post so pls take a look ty <3

(For the record, this ⬇️ is why I’m changing the taglist system lmao. It’s just too much😭 This is going to be the last fic (except ongoing fics) that’ll have a taglist fyi)

Taglist

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @naevisct @jimmywoosimp @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @monsterfromthewoods @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @ll4n4 @olivialveshbc @feyresqueen @charlottegemyngende @ffionspreach @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @1nterstellarcha0s @mothhball @anonwrtr @venustusjuliet8 @cillianslvt @bluujaiwrites @jayroytodd @harleyql @lokabrenna0801 @hanawrites404 @soo-woop @sewmxx @havkjhdecs @trumanbluee @twasbrillig71 @punkiebuttons

[spacedace]

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

[freuleinanna]

ngl van helsing and mina's relarionship is very very dear to me and does in fact have me in chokehold

we're expecting jack seward to be van helsing's protégé, them being academics and jack having been vh's student. and yet jack is the least flexible in his beliefs. meanwhile mina, despite not having any relevant education, demonstrates all qualities that van helsing seeks and respects!

she's anticipating the need for a record and typewrites her and jonathan's diaries in advance, plus later continues her task to make sure they all have access to the least available bit of information (to which van helsing refers a LOT closer to the end)

she's quick-minded and can surprise the old professor (cue the 'teehee sure read my diaries oops it's in shorthand' scene, after which vh basically goes I AM ADOPTING HER, teary-eyed)

she has a chronical case of understanding him instantly. parallel the scene with jack 'WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ELEPHANTS LIVE LONGER' seward and the scene with mina 'SAY NO MORE I GOT YOU DRACULA IS FLEEING BACK HOME' harker, it's just so funny to me

van helsing constantly saying how he needs jack to have an open mind, yet here's madam mina, self-educated on the horrors in castle dracula, asking van helsing himself to keep an open mind as he reads the diaries!

in van helsing's memorandum he says she obediently does anything he asks. she even gets up to leave the wafer circle, although she can't. like.... she knows that van helsing is testing her, and helps willingly. she feels the changes in herself, and she allows her friend to carry out his research too.

they are SO quick to follow each other's thoughts! mina discovers hypnotism as means to speak freely and calls for van helsing right away. and he gets her without missing a beat

don't even get me started on every time mina saves the situation and van helsing muttering 'wonderful woman!' under his breath. he cares for her so deeply it's insane and heart-warming and bittersweet

and that damn november 4 entry? van helsing being afraid, afraid, afraid! of mina and the changes she undergoes. yet he continues to care about his friend. huge thanks to @re-dracula for bringing each emotion to life in such a vivid manner

in conclusion, mina harker is van helsing's spiritual kin and i am not normal about it

[apomaro-mellow]

"Okay, be straight with me."

Steve leveled a look and Eddie almost swooned but he kept it together. This was serious.

"Right, okay, be bisexual with me."

"Eddie, we're in public", Steve said, mock-scandalized.

"I'm starting to regret becoming a level 5 friend of yours Harrington." Dustin had said Steve could get silly and goofy. Of course Eddie didn't believe it. Not until he had seen it. Not until he had seen that secret handshake of theirs and seen him pump his fist in victory when he beat Erica at rock, paper, scissors, and when he'd seen him-

"Did you have something to say, or...?"

"Yeah! Okay, so, what I wanted to ask waaaas, did you ever, you know, look at any guys?" Eddie cleared his throat and continued when Steve looked at him blankly. "Sinfully?"

The location for this conversation could either be really good or really bad. In the McDonald's parking lot on a late afternoon. Steve just got off from a relatively short shift and wanted lunch. Eddie was wasting time until Hellfire that night. Of course they were eating in Eddie's van. Not a single crumb graced Steve's car.

"I mean, I guess I did", Steve shrugged. "Before I really understood what I was feeling. Honestly it felt like I just hated guys for no reason."

Eddie nodded in understanding. Before realizing what all those slurs meant, he definitely felt like some dudes were attractive in a way just to spite him. Then he came to realize he didn't want to punch them, but to do...well other things with his hands.

"Soooo, you ever have a crush?"

Steve let out a bark of laughter so loud it startled Eddie.

"What are you serious?"

"I-yes? What? Is it so ridiculous?"

"Eddie I-", Steve cut himself off and looked him in the eyes. "You asked me that question and you really don't know?"

"Is it a sensitive topic?" Eddie went on ahead and stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth before he stuck his foot in it.

"No, it's just, you of all people asking me that." Steve put a hand to his mouth and looked out the window and Eddie felt like he was missing something.

"So was there ever anyone?"

Steve turned back towards him. "Was...and is."

"Well shit, don't leave me hangin'."

"Are we doing girl talk or something now?", Steve grinned.

"I know for a fact you and Bucks talk about the girls she likes. Why can't you talk to a fellow queer about boys?"

"I've talked to Argyle and Jonathan about it", Steve shrugged.

Now that got Eddie raring. Jonathan he could understand. But he just met Argyle!

"Okay, you gotta tell me. It can be either the 'was' or the 'is' but I need to know who caught the eye of the Hair."

Steve laughed again, this time bending over. "Eye of the Hair sounds like one of your dungeon things."

"Don't try and distract me with DnD, Steve. Spill."

"Okay, okay. Let's talk about this is."

Eddie was torn. On the one hand, he really did want to know who Steve was crushing on. On the other hand, if he knew the dude what was stopping him from going over to his house and busting his nose?

"So, he's our age. Went to Hawkins High-"

"Wow that really narrows it down."

"He and I were in different cliques. Didn't hang out a lot until he started hangin around my kids."

Eddie let out a snort. "You do remember you didn't actually birth a gaggle of children, right?"

"You wanna hear this or not?"

"Continue."

"Anyway, he's a nerd. Like a huuuge nerd. Like sometimes I can't even believe I like him, but then he...I mean I....it's not like I like him despite his nerdiness. I like that part of him too now."

Eddie began listing the choices. Someone from school, who hung out with the kids? Recent? That could be someone from Hellfire. Kind of think of it, Steve and Jeff have been talking a lot more recently. It was just here or there when Steve was dropping off or picking up kids from meetings but still...

"Can I get a description?"

"What are you? The cops?"

"How dare you!"

"He's got dark hair and dark eyes", Steve conceded with a roll of his eyes.

Fuck it could be Jeff. Okay, okay, he could be supportive. Jeff was a good guy. A great guy. And Jeff would be a lucky son of a bitch to get Steve.

"Son of a bitch", he murmured.

"Hm?"

"Son of a witch, nerd thing", Eddie waved off. "I think you should be able to trust me with his name. I could even maybe hook you two up if I just so happen to know him~"

"You'd hook me up with some guy?", Steve asked.

"I know right, I'm so generous." And maybe if Jeff blew his chance with Steve, he could be there to pick up the pieces. No! Bad Munson! Bad thoughts. Jeff would never hurt Steve and he shouldn't hope for it. But what if it wasn't Jeff?

What if it was some other geek he didn't know? The freshies were into science too. What if it was that chemistry dork Howard?

"Actually, I think I really do need to know who this guy is. Need to be sure he's good enough for you."

Steve smiled in a way that rivaled the sun and Eddie truly felt like a knight in shining armor. He'd protect his princess from any undeserving mouthbreather.

"I think he's more than worthy. And I hope you would agree", Steve said.

"I'll know for sure once I see him." Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, already formulating ideas to make this dude wet his pants. "So tell me more about him."

"Okay, we knew of each other for a while, but the first time we officially talked, he attacked me."

"Red flag. No go."

"In his defense, he was on the run from the law", Steve added quickly.

"A criminal? Second red flag."

"Allegedly. And that's big talk comin' from a drug dealer."

"Who you partake with", Eddie reminded him.

"I do. But it's a little less than legal what you do. As is several things both of us have done. I don't think either of us has a high horse to look down on."

Eddie hemmed and hawed before letting out a sigh. "Alright, we'll call that a yellow flag for now. What else?"

"He's just...so different from anyone else I've ever been into, Eds. I'm really into him. Like an embarrassing amount." And now Steve was blushing and Eddie felt jealousy boil in his gut. But he also felt happy that Steve was happy. He could take solace in that. Even if he wanted to deck this guy on principle.

"Do you know if he's like us?"

"Oh, I know", Steve said, putting his elbow on the rest between them and leaning in close. "Wanna know more?"

And fuck his masochistic heart, he did. What could this guy have that he didn't?

After Eddie nodded, Steve continued. "He's larger than life, honestly. In a way I thought I used to be but he's the genuine real deal. He can be kind of a jerk, but it's clear when he cares. And that mouth-"

"Okay! Please stop torturing me and tell me who this guy is so I can decide if I hate him or not!"

Steve was laughing again and as beautiful as it was, Eddie felt like a joke himself.

"If you're gonna start hating yourself then we've got a problem", Steve said.

Eddie jerked around like he was short circuiting as all the pieces came into place. High school, nerd, with the kids, attacked him, running from the law.

"You! You are unbelievable, you know that?"

"That's a new one", Steve was still grinning. "So are you gonna kiss me now? Or are you not worthy?"

They were in a parking lot. In broad daylight. This could be bad. But Eddie was a weak, weak man and his dream boy was asking for a kiss. So he leaned in and obliged. Son of a bitch he was the son of a bitch that caught Steve's eye.

"Well?", Steve asked when they pulled away. "What do you think of the guy I like?"

"I still think you could do better."

[lushrue]

i’ve been seeing a lot of business/ceo aus with the 141, but i’ve been bingewatching “suits” lately so…law firm au?

The 141 Law Group is one of the most prestigious in London. they take on clients that nobody else will, lots of high profile people and large businesses. they have a great reputation for discreteness, getting things done quickly and quietly and mostly above board. 141 handpicks their associates from the top law schools in the UK and it’s an honor to be chosen by them.

jonathan price is managing partner. at the end of the day, it’s him who makes the decisions of what clients to take on, what expenses are necessary and which ones aren’t, and how to handle the difficult cases. he runs the show, and what he says goes. usually mills around in the associate spaces, making sure the firm’s making good investments in the rookies. his background is in criminal law, but getting him in the courtroom is tough these days. he can be tempted out of his cushy corner office on occasion, though.

simon riley is a senior partner, price’s right hand. he was one of the founding partners of the firm, but chose to keep his name off the official paperwork. he has more interest in being a lawyer than a manager, though he likes to throw his weight around from time to time. expert in business law, does a really good job at giving government oversight the finger and finding workarounds for his clients. he has his limits though, won’t help his clients take action that will harm consumers. most people think he’s sleazy and dirty, but there’s a heart of gold underneath that prada suit.

john mactavish is the firm’s numbers guy. we already know he’s good with math, he has to be not to blow himself to bits. he keeps the ledgers balanced and the firm consistently in the green. has a few clients of his own that he advises on strictly financial matters. price brings him on every new client lunch because of his charm and wit, swears they’ve gotten a couple of clients because of johnny’s sense of humor alone. likes the water cooler talk, especially with lawyers in different specializations. this man knows so many random bits and pieces of international law, business law, entertainment law all because of the people he strikes up conversation with.

kyle garrick is the freshest face, hired for a permanent position after being chosen as an associate. aspiring senior partner, would love to co-manage the firm with price someday. he works primarily with international clients, loves the late nights reading up on the laws that govern other countries. he’s great at finding loopholes, just like simon. he’s aggressive in the courtroom when he does get to go, oftentimes as co-counsel with simon or johnny. he’s scribbling notes in every meeting he’s in, soaking in all the information. despite the multiple offers he’s gotten from other firms, his loyalty lies with john.

and then there’s you, their new secretary. simon was hesitant when john announced your hiring at the partners’ meeting, didn’t really think they needed someone fielding calls and making copies when that was what the associates were for. john had purely personal motivations for hiring you, though. poached you from the rival firm, Shadow Company, LLC. while you’d been content enough in your position, phillip graves was a bit of a sleazeball, in your opinion. when price came in with his sweet talk and promise of a signing bonus, you were hooked. nevermind that it took a whole week of morning coffees and tickets to the ballet for johnny to agree to the extra expense. they change their mind when you show up to work in your tight skirt and high heels, eyes bright and ready to start. 

the second you bent over your desk and they caught a glimpse of your lacy thong, it was all over.

[piratefishmama]

Nest

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Contrary to popular belief, Alpha heartthrob of Hawkins High Steve Harrington never managed to find himself a suitable mate. He tried, he tried multiple times with many different omegas, tried with Betas, hell he even tried with another Alpha! However, he never lived up to their expectations, he was never what they expected or hoped for, those he tried to court always eventually told him he was too soft.

He lacked the aggression, the ‘slam you against a wall and take you’ kind of rough edges a typical Alpha would have that made the act thrilling for his partner, that created that kind of primal need to submit that they desperately longed for.

He lacked the primordial Alpha need to take, to claim. Some even claimed he ought to have been born an Omega, that the Alpha didn’t suit him, that somehow he’d been born wrong, that his secondary gender didn’t fit him, it wasn’t right.

He was too soft, too affectionate, too clingy too— too much.

Everything about him was bullshit.

Nancy, his one attempt at a relationship with another Alpha, had been drunk when she’d said that to his face, and she didn’t actually remember saying it the day after, but… it still stuck with him years after it’d happened. Years after they’d become friends, years after she’d settled into a Poly relationship with a sweet, if a little awkward omega, Jonathan and his ridiculous (read: weirdly charming, Steve loved him) Beta mate, Argyle.

So he didn’t have a mate. No big deal, it wasn’t like he longed for one or anything, it definitely not like that at all. It wasn’t like he wanted a big family, to be loved, to be wanted, to be welcomed into a nest made of a mixture of his and his mates clothes, his and his mates blankets and pillows and—it was fine. He was fine.

He wasn’t fine, but within that failure, came opportunity. Alphas came in all shapes, sizes, and thankfully, as much as people liked to doubt, temperaments, which given how soft he as an alpha was, made him perfect for Nest. A clinic for unmated Omegas who struggled with their heats, Omegas who had nowhere to turn, no-one to help them through the worst week of the month.

An alpha helped. Even if he didn’t touch them, and usually he didn’t, having an alpha there, their pheromones permeating the room, just existing in their space, sometimes it was enough to help ease the pain of having no-one to fulfil the other needs.

He wasn’t allowed to touch them intimately, it wasn’t a sex thing, it was a comfort thing. A thing some Omegas needed, especially if they’d never had an alpha with them before.

Sometimes, never having one was worse than having one once and never again. You craved something with no frame of reference for why or how to recreate it, you’d go mad going in circles trying to figure out why this part of you needed something so badly despite never having had it.

It could get bad. Some went mad over it. Hence the Clinics.

Hawkins had one. Singular. Just one. It was linked up to the hospital, deeply underfunded and regularly had protesters outside claiming the alphas inside to be sex workers.

Blatant ignorance at work there, but Steve stopped caring about his public image before he’d even left school so on each shift he’d walk through the throng of idiots, with his head held high, greet his best friend Robin at the front desk, a quirky Beta with zero brain to mouth filter and the gift of gab.

She probably wouldn’t call it a gift, but Steve adored her. Had a bit of a crush on her at first, quickly replaced by platonic love after she’d drunkenly came out to him in a public restroom at a Christmas party.

She liked women. Omega women to be specific. He’d never asked her to elaborate on why not male Omegas, she had a type, that was that.

Steve liked both, he liked all. Steve wasn’t fussed, Omega, Beta, Alpha, male or female? It didn’t matter to him, he’d tried all in his search for a mate that’d stay and found himself enjoying all.

He just needed one to stay.

He’d walk in, greet Robin, if he didn’t have an Omega already, he’d grab a clipboard with his new assignment on it and head straight there. It was one of those days.

His last Omega, an awkward little thing that Steve sort of recognised from high school, he’d been a freshman during Steve’s last year, had left the night before, content and at ease, had spent most of the coherent hours talking Steve’s ear off about a table top RPG game he played with friends, Dungeons and Dragons.

Steve didn’t mind, he asked questions, let him bounce character ideas off of him, helped him pick a race out of a mix of words Steve didn’t really recognise but it made the Omega, Gareth, happy.

They came up with Galgrun the Giant together. A Dwarf with a height complex and a really big hammer.

He liked Gareth. Gareth was sweet, soft, bit too young though. Reminded Steve of the gaggle of kids Nancy’s little brother would hang around.

His new assignment was older.

Older than himself by one year, which… wasn’t unusual but it definitely wasn’t a normal occurrence either. Usually the Omegas that used the facility were younger, younger and in desperate need of comfort.

“They’ve put him in room 69, he found that hilarious.” Robin chirped when Steve looked up from his clipboard. Another him. Not that that was a bad thing, sometimes they alternated. “He’s a little… jumpy, very nervous, I could smell him a mile away and you know what my sense of smell is like.” Most first timers were, he checked out the clipboard again, no previous alpha, no sexual history, no… nothing.

For an omega older than himself to have zero experience in intimacy with an alpha, even the soft non-sexual kind? No wonder he was jumpy. “Alright, says here he came from a referral?”

“Yeah, GP basically threw him at us after he turned violent during his last heat an damn near mauled his uncle, he mentioned Gareth when he came in, that’s why they gave him to you.” Not just because he was one of the best Alphas there, but because Gareth had said nice things, the omega had asked for him. “Go get him tiger.”

Part 2

[paradiseprincesss]

forever boy | jonathan crane

umm i lowkey did not want to post this because i feel like it's not eating but i hope u guys like thissssss :')

summary: you and jonathan are close friends — he was your brothers best friend so it was bound to happen, after all. however, all you want is to be more than just friends. one night, after a particularly bad date, you drunkenly call jonathan asking him to come pick you up — and you accidentally confess your feelings while you're at it too.

warnings: unspecified age gap (reader is early 20's, jonathan is early 30's), sort of friends to lovers, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), general sexual content ahead lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

"i don't think i've ever seen you stay with a guy for more than six months." jonathan pointed out teasingly as the two of you sat on his couch alone in his apartment, watching some random horror movie you chose to put on.

"very funny, jonathan." you say sarcastically, reaching over to grab the remote so you could pause the movie. "that doesn't make me feel any better, just so you know."

"you said you broke up with him because you don't care about him." jonathan shrugged. "psychologically speaking, have you ever considered that you may have an avoidant—"

"oh please," you scoffed, "do not turn this into one of your therapy sessions. psychoanalyze me all you want, but i guarantee you'll be dissappointed."

"i feel like you have a phobia of commitment." he says, sighing as he looked at you through his glasses.

"no, it's not that. it's just — nobody ever kept my attention." you explain, causing jonathan to raise a brow. "they just don't know how to make me...happy."

"i see," he said softly, "have you ever considered that, i don't know, maybe your going for the wrong type of guys?"

"what do you know about love? you're married to your job." you scoff, causing jonathan to chuckle softly.

"fair point," he nods, "but i do happen to study human psychology and behavioural patterns for a living."

recently, you had been spending a lot of time with your brothers best friend — doctor jonathan crane. he'd known jonathan for a good few years, the two of them got along well as they'd met at a conference for medical students when both of them were still in gotham's medical schooling program.

your brother was ten years older than you, meaning that you were currently still in university but your brother had built up a successful career for himself by now. of course, jonathan was just as, if not, more successful, with his name plastered in every article and paper in gotham about the remarkable work he was doing at arkham asylum.

you'd met jonathan while you were still in high school, but you only started to get close with him during your first year of university. one evening, you'd gotten a little too drunk at a frat party with your friends, and ended up calling your brother to come pick you up in your drunken state.

unfortunately, he had informed you that he was just swamped at work — but he would get his best friend, jonathan, to do him a favour and pick you up since he only lived about ten minutes away from the area you were partying at.

when he picked you up, all you could focus on was how handsome he was — why hadn't you noticed this before? not to mention his intoxicatingly blue eyes; how could someone have eyes that blue?!

after that — the two of you had become quite close. suddenly, you were tagging along if your brother and jonathan had plans, and you were also hanging out with jonathan when your brother wasn't around as well.

something just clicked when you two were together, despite him being nearly a decade older than you. the two of you would frequently make plans to meet up, whether that was to get food together or watch movies snuggled up on the couch of his apartment.

just as friends though, of course — he was your brothers best friend. plus, you were sure that jonathan would never see you in that way.

and since you'd been friends for a minute, he knew just what you liked; what made you smile. he'd even see boys come and go, he knew what made you cry. though he'd never say it aloud — he wanted to be the one to treat you right.

"what time is it?" you asked.

jonathan checked his watch, "quarter to seven." he replied, making you groan as you got up from his couch. "where are you going?"

"home," you sighed, "i have a date tonight — nate's picking me up at nine."

"you just broke up with your boyfriend two weeks ago, and you have a date already?" he asked with surprise, and you rolled your eyes as he got up with you.

"yes, so what? i told you that two month relationship meant nothing to me anyway." you shrugged, and jonathan looked at you with concern as he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. "spare me the judgement please, jonathan."

jonathan always drove you — even though you had your own license and car, he insisted. "i'm not judging you, i just don't want you to get hurt." he said with a sigh, and for a moment, he almost sounded disappointed.

"i wont." you assured him as the two of you drove back to your home. since you were still in university, you lived at home with your parents, and it had become a routine. he'd pick you up, and sometimes you'd even stay overnight at his place — as if friends do that.

"okay, well," he said with a sigh, parking on your driveway, "just promise me you'll call me if you need anything."

"i will. i know you're working an overnight shift so i can just call my brother—"

"just call me, i'll answer." he said softly.

when jonathan told you that, you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart start to beat rapidly. you smile and nod, waving goodbye as he drove off, leaving you at home again. as you rushed upstairs to start getting ready for your date — a feeling of overwhelming dread consumed you.

you were always defensive and deflective anytime anyone asked about your commitment issues. you knew the root cause: it was jonathan. the reason nobody could ever keep your attention was because you were already too focused on someone else — your brothers best friend.

you went on date after date, dated guy after guy, only to break their hearts months (and sometimes even just weeks) later. you were a professional at delivering the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech. you were sure that at some point, someone would help you get over jonathan.

but nobody ever did.

however, that all changed after your date with some guy named nate from your class had gone poorly. he was very clearly into you, however you on the other hand, were not into him at all. your mind was doing that thing again.

you know, the thing where your thoughts were consumed with jonathan and jonathan only — thoughts of what he was doing right now. how was work going for him? your mind was spinning as you daydreamed what it would be like to be the one he'd come home to every night, after a hard day.

"did you hear what i asked?" nate's voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up at him as you mindlessly swished the clear liquor in your martini glass.

"oh, m'sorry — no." you say in a bored manner, making no attempt to conceal your disinterest.

"whatever," nate sighed, clearly frustrated with your lack of interest for the last hour over drinks, "enjoy your night, i guess."

he places a fifty on the bar top, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out of the bar you were in. you made no attempt to stop him, and instead, you order another martini for yourself as you let the liquor stir inside of you.

tonight, you felt like you'd hit a dead end. when were you going to learn that this would never work? when would you come to terms with the fact that another guy wouldn't fill the jonathan shaped void in your heart?

reaching into your purse, you grab your phone and put it up to your ear as you heard the dial tone.

"hello?" jonathan's voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"jonathan, hey," you said softly, "i'm sorry for calling, i know you're busy at work right now—"

"do you need me to come pick you up?" he asked, interjecting you and your tipsy apology.

"i-i can call my brother, it's fine. i don't even know why i called—" you said, suddenly feeling very choked up.

jonathan's tone went from casual to concerned in a matter of seconds as he heard you sniffling from the other end of the line. "are you okay? where are you? i'm leaving right now."

maybe it was the gin or maybe it was the harboured feelings you'd been denying for the last year — perhaps both — but all you wanted to do was drunkenly cry and confess the way you felt for him.

screw being just friends, right?

after telling jonathan the address, you let the liquor do the talking. "jonathan?" you asked, to which he hummed over the line, "i just — i have feelings for you."

as you let out your slightly drunken confession, you hang up the phone before he had a chance to respond, throwing back the rest of your martini as you made your way outside. the weather in gotham tonight was miserable, rain pouring down heavily as the night sky was glum.

this was not your best moment — but when jonathan heard your little confession, his cold heart melted a little. even if it took a little liquid courage to get there, then so be it — he'd finally got conformation that you felt the same.

you weren't sure how long you were stood outside in the parking lot of the bar, letting the rain pour down on you dramatically, but you started to shiver. of course you did — you were in heels and a dress, and now, you were soaked from head to toe.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out and you looked to your left to see a familiar car parked, with a familiar man in a suit and glasses rushing over to you. "what are you doing out here? it's pouring." jonathan said with concern, taking his suit jacket off and immediately placing it around you. "come on, i'll take you back to my place — i took the night off of work."

"why?" you ask suddenly, making jonathan raise a brow.

"what do you mean why? just — get in the car, it's pouring." he asked with confusion, but you continued to argue.

"how long are you going to keep pretending were just friends?" you choke back a sob, and he looks at you with concern once more. "friends don't — fuck, friends don't do what we do!"

"how drunk are you?"

"i'm not even that drunk!" you exasperate, "i just wanted an excuse to call you!"

"of course i don't think of you as a friend!" he exclaimed, "but you're out with a new guy every month!"

"because i was scared of telling you how i felt. i only ever wanted you!" you exclaimed back, tears streaming down your face as you were both intoxicated and vulnerable.

as soon as he noticed your tears, he stepped closer to you in the pouring rain, letting it soak you both. his hand suddenly reached up to cup your face gently, "why on earth wouldn't you just tell me?"

"you're my brothers best friend. and were friends, i just figured—"

"what if i don't want to be just friends?" he asked as you blinked your tears away. "haven't you noticed the way i look at you whenever you're around? the way i would drop anything to be there for you, no questions asked?"

everything was happening so fast, from your drunk confession to letting out a year of pent-up emotions — but it didn't matter anymore. you'd fallen for him and now, it was clear that he had fallen for you too.

"then fuck being just friends." you whispered.

within seconds, his lips came crashing down on yours as the gotham rain poured down on the both of you in the parking lot. alcohol was coursing through your veins, but now, so was adrenaline. you weren't sure how it all happened — but in the midst of a big, blurry mess, you ended up in jonthan's bed sharing sloppy, hungry kisses together.

his touch was gentle — loving — and you melted into it. carefully, he slipped your soaking dress off, and you tried not to cower under his gaze. those blue eyes of his had such an effect on you, and he smiled softly as he tried to ease your nerves.

"we don't have to do this — just tell me to stop and we can." he whispered lovingly, gently playing with your hair. "i don't want you to feel pressured since you've been drinking."

"i want to do this jonathan," you insisted, feeling a cocktail of emotions bubbling all at once, "i just really care about you. about us — i don't want to...screw things up between you and me."

"i know," he whispered, "but i promise, nothing will change between us—"

"i've had feelings for you for a long time." you said suddenly. "if we do this, i need to know you're serious."

he hummed softly in acknowledgement and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "ever since last year, when we started to hangout alone. just us..." he trailed off, admiring every detail of your pretty face. "i couldn't stop myself from falling for you."

"god, jonathan. you're such a sappy romantic deep down." you teased lightly, making him smile. "and all this time i thought you were in love with your job."

"well that," he said softly, "but i fell in love with you too."

your breath got caught in your throat as the words fell from his lips. not to mention your heart started to race about a million miles a minute. all this time you'd been harbouring your feelings for jonathan — he'd felt the same.

"i-i fell in love with you too," you confess, rambling on innocently, "s-sorry, i feel like i'm making things so awkward—"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands now resting on your hips as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles onto your skin. "relax, sweetheart," he whispered, "just lay back for me. let me show you how much i love you."

slowly, he started to pepper kisses down your stomach and thighs, making you squirm a little under his feather light touch. his hands came to paw at the waistband of your underwear, and if you weren't red in the face before — you definitely were now.

"are you comfortable?" jonathan asked softly, his icy blue eyes piercing through yours as he looked up at you from between your thighs. "is this okay?"

the sight was driving you to the brink of insanity, and with a desperate nod, you look down at him nervously. "y-yeah, just a little nervous." you admitted with honesty.

"have you ever...?" he raised a brow, his breathing slightly ragged.

"y-yeah, no i have before," you say as your heart raced, "i-it's just — it's you."

"what does that mean?"

"you...make me nervous." you say with pink cheeks, nervously giggling as his fingers toyed with the lace of your panties.

"like i said before," his voice dropped several octaves as he slid your underwear down your legs, "let me ease your nerves, darling."

you barely had a chance to react before his hands were gripping at your thighs, and his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your soaked cunt. your head fell back onto the pillows as every pent up anxious thought suddenly left your body, the only thing coming out of your mouth being breathless moans.

as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, he ate you out like his life depended on it — the man was gifted with the knowledge of anatomy, after all. he knew a few things.

his tongue continued to lick all around your dripping folds, lapping up your arousal as you fell apart from his touch. as he took your clit into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. you could feel him smirk against your cunt when you moaned — which turned you on more if that was even possible.

"j-jonathan," you moaned feverishly, "i-i'm so close—"

"yeah, are you?" he asked with a muffled voice, face still buried in your cunt, "come on, darling, let me taste all of you."

as he worked his skillful tongue in your hole, your back arched and his name started to fall from your lips over and over again like a chant. you swore you started to see stars from the way he was eating you out, devouring your body as if you were something to be cherished. to be worshipped.

as you came on his tongue, jonathan lapped up every last drop of you, sparing no mercy as he continued to lick every part of your pussy even after you'd came.

"s'too much," you whined, "but i need you inside of me, jon."

he finally pulled away from your puffy, needy little hole, wiping his lips and chin with his suit sleeve. he tossed his suit jacket onto the floor in a rush, and you were holding back moans as you watched him undress.

it felt like an eternity (forty-five whole seconds), but he got undressed as he positioned himself between your spread legs. how's that supposed to fit?! you thought to yourself, watching in awe as his thick cock leaked pre cum from the tip.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he teased, causing you to scoff.

"shut up, i didn't think you'd be...so b-big." you managed to choke out, cheeks burning.

"so, what i'm hearing is that you've thought about us having sex before."

"oh my god, shut — mmph!" as you were about to dish out something back, he pushed his throbbing cock into your cunt without warning, catching you off guard as he split you in two.

"you were saying?" he cooed mockingly, moving his hips gently as you adjusted to his size.

"mm, fuuuck—" you moaned, unable to comprehend his teasing as he fucked you deliciously with his fat cock.

"awe, how cute," he cooed, "you're already cockdrunk. what a needy little thing you are, hm?"

he suddenly took hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he fucked you faster, deeper — harder. you let out a strangled, choked moan as his cock hit all the right places inside of you, rubbing against that spongy spot as he fucked you closer and closer to your release.

jonathan groaned through gritted teeth, trying not to lose his sanity as he felt your warm, wet, hole clench around his cock. "fuck, you're so tight — perfect fucking pussy."

"a-ah, you feel, fuuck — so good, jonathan. right there—!"

"right there, darling?" he asked, emphasizing his words by snapping his hips into you harsher each time, "you like it when i fuck you like this? when i turn you into a desperate little whore, is that it?"

"yes, f-fuck y-yes!" you whine breathlessly, your mind going blank.

"i bet you love getting your pussy stretched like this, don't you?" he cooed with faux sympathy, "you love getting ruined by me."

"m-mhm!" you agree mindlessly, barely able to focus on his words with the way he was brutally pounding your cunt. "l-love you, jon."

"oh fuck— look at you pretty girl. so ruined and so fucking eager to please me." he growled lowly, watching you fall apart underneath him as you took his cock deeper. "god, i love you too — and i love watching you turn into nothing but a little fucktoy for me."

his degrading words didn't match with the saccharine tone that managed to slip through his voice. but you were too fucked out and ruined to put two and two together.

"come on my cock, darling." he commanded softly, feeling your cunt fluttering around his cock. "come for me."

his words pushed you over the edge, and within seconds, you were babbling incoherently again as he fucked you senseless. you couldn't process your thoughts — your brain short circuiting as your release washed over you.

the sight of you getting fucked dumb by him was enough to make jonathan come on the spot, and as you came all over his cock, he was filling your cunt with his warm seed. he let out a low, gravelly moan as he painted your walls white with his cum, and you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to keep him close.

after the both of you caught your breath in the now oddly quiet bedroom in his apartment, he let out a breath as he winced, pulling out of you.

"so does this mean were just friends?" he joked, pulling you into his arms as you scoffed. "kidding — you're forever mine now, darling. don't you ever forget it."

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh

[thefirstlioveyou]

how the van scene confirms mike's feelings - the framework & editing

i noticed something while editing a compilation of mike staring at will lovingly (because bless finn's amazing acting) and suddenly found myself analysing the editing choices/shots from the van scene (will’s monologue).

i found this scene doesn't only confirm will's feelings for mike, but mike's too.

what exactly makes this scene confirmation of mike's feelings besides the brilliant acting? it's the perfect cinematography and editing. ST's cinematography has been one of its greatest strength's, in my opinion at least. they know how to move the camera perfectly to tell us exactly what a character's thinking. the editing is also perfect.

**for this post, i won't be bringing up the lighting work or acting (at least not much) because it's something that's already acknowledged a lot.**

in the van scene, we are only able to really realize mike's feelings because of its choice of shots - specifically two subtle shots.

first shot:

every shot of mike during the speech had will still in the corner. unfocused, but still there. (minus the rear mirror and window shots)

except for one...

the editing work is one of the main keys to what makes this scene so intimate besides the great acting. the way it goes back and forth between close ups is meant to display tension/intimacy. they keep swinging between the both, almost telling the audience to pay close attention. there's something happening that isn't being said. the editing choice inflicts a feeling that rest of the world is gone - it's just them. (which is often what you typically feel when there's raging chemistry between you and someone else)

then they throw this one shot in, which subtly parts mike away with this conversation. he is distracted by something else..

the fact this one stands out different from the rest is important. will could still be seen in the other shots while showing mike is focusing deeply on what will is saying. then suddenly, just for one shot, will isn't there anymore. it's just mike, nervous and breathless. this is telling us that mike is no longer paying as much attention to what will's saying, but more on what he himself is thinking.

despite this being such a minor thing that is easy to dismiss, it changes a lot if you would've just framed it like the rest. not only would it get repetitive, but there would be nothing to take from the scene [visually] other than the fact mike is focusing on what will's saying… and sure, enjoys looking at his lips a lot. but, when you really think about it, the inclusion of this shot is what actually confirms finn's acting is intentionally romantic. the editors wanted to give the audience this one specifically framed shot of mike to draw your attention from what will's saying, to start wondering what mike is thinking.

and if you haven't already caught onto all the lip staring and quick glances, he’s thinking about will.

second shot:

there's one other shot that confirms it, too - the shot with jonathan and the rear mirror. this happens twice.

referencing back to what i said earlier about how chemistry between you and another can feel like the world shuts out and it's only you two, despite that being how it feels, it’s the exact opposite - everyone notices it. people around you can also see that chemistry. though.. it's only noticeable when it's truly real.

this is the point of the rear window/jonathan shot.

jonathan is noticing a shift in their relationship. he notices not only will's feelings, but mike's too. will is turned away, mike is looking at will - something will can't see. will story-wise believes his love is unrequited... when it's clearly not to the audience (or jonathan in this case).

this rear window shot is included to confirm to the audience that it is exactly what we're thinking - there is something romantic going on, there is electricity. so much so that other characters are catching on themselves. it isn't just a pretty shot. if it were, jonathan wouldn't have been included, and it wouldn’t be there two different times. filmmaking is precise, never forget that.

-

filmmaking (cinematography in this case) is so powerful and complex. any slight adjustment in editing or choice of framing can change the story you are trying to tell.

so all in all, byler endgame

[chelseeebe]

menswear.

been wanting to write a menswear inspired lil ficcy for sooo so long n to celebrate the fact that i will finally hear it live after 9 years i thought this was a great time

a/n: i just wanna write a disclaimer that i am british and tend to britain-ise my writing so if it seems off for an american wedding don’t bite me x it’s ovulation week which is the only way i can explain this if i’m honest

summary: meeting steve at an old friend’s wedding could really only lead to one thing, couldn’t it?

18+. smut. alcohol and drug use. steve is a mess. no use of y/n!

steve’s still drunk from the night before, his tie crooked and one of the buttons on his shirt is uneven. he looked even more disheveled than he felt.

he hadn’t been keen on the idea of going to the wedding of his ex girlfriend and the man who essentially took her from him. not that he blames jonathan of course, he wasn’t exactly the gold standard boyfriend. he had his faults and would quite happily admit to them.

but still, it was confusing and weird and he’d tried to get out of it but robin had quite frankly insisted that he be there or else he was a terrible person.

so, as all sensible people would, he got absolutely fucking blasted the night before. he hadn’t meant to get so drunk but catching up with old friends and the kids he once looked after, had lead to him being carried off to his room by his best friend who was mumbling a bunch of profanities under her breath.

he still stank of booze, christ even he could smell it. it lingered on his body despite the twenty minute cold shower he had forced himself through this morning. there had been an attempt to style his hair but it mostly hung around his face in limp strands.

did you know the best way to beat a hangover is to keep drinking? hair of the dog and that. at least, that’s what he was telling himself. nursing a double whisky at the hotel bar at stupid o’clock this morning.

he didn’t have robin to hang off today, left to his own devices as she’d been recruited into the bridal party. her one track mind focussed on nancy and not her absolute failure of a best friend.

the venue was nice, a tad unorthodox and not where he’d choose to get married but it fit the strange pairing in a nice way. slinking up the cold stone of the aisle, trying to find his reserved seat among the crowds of people.

max pulls him into one of the rows, shoving him down on the empty seat with a small scowl on her face. she’d seen him struggling from her seat and had so graciously gone to help the poor man.

‘thanks.. max,’ he groans, nodding at the girl a she settles into his seat, honestly just hoping that the service would go quick so he could resume his pitiful drinking.

he sighs, thumbing through the programme. smiling slightly as he reads the officiants name, el hopper. they had just had to make this the strangest wedding he’d ever have the pleasure of attending.

‘do you know the bride or groom?’ your voice speaks from beside him, it’s the first time he’s realised that he’s actually sat next to anyone and he’s actually not in his own little world of misery.

‘huh?’ he asks, looking up to meet your eyes.

you’re smiling, looking as spritely as he wished he felt. clearly some people hadn’t got wasted the night before. amateurs.

‘do you know the bride or groom? sorry- i don’t really know anyone here,’ giving him a shy chuckle as your cheeks flush, maybe you would have to dip after the ceremony.

‘oh.. oh no, i know both of them.. nancy’s my ex girlfriend,’ he wants to kick himself because what on earth had compelled him to say something like that.

‘oh wow..’ you laugh, ‘not awkward at all then,’ kissing the back of your teeth.

‘it’s actually not.. not really,’ he shrugs, shuffling in his chair to face towards you properly, ‘i mean, if i had a choice i probably would’ve skipped but.. what can you do?’

‘right.. still, i don’t envy you,’ smoothing down the creased material of your dress, a deep green to match the earthy tones of the wedding.

‘d’you wanna know my secret to weddings?’ he smiles, leaning in.

‘mhm hit me.’

‘you just gotta get as drunk as humanly possible and they’re actually not so bad..’

‘isn’t it like..’ you check your wrist watch, ‘it’s noon,’ breaking into a giggle.

‘and that is why i started last night,’ tapping his finger on his temple, he was a genius really.

he wasn’t new to this game. having been forced to a plethora of fancy weddings with his parents and the wave of weddings from high school friends, he was wise to all the tricks in which made weddings bearable.

‘well, i might have to join you.. i don’t know anybody here,’ looking around at the hordes of strangers milling around the large room.

‘why are you here then?’ immediately wincing at his choice of words, ‘shit no.. i meant, do you know nancy? or jonathan? or have you snuck in?’

you giggle again and it’s music to his ears. sat next to a pretty girl who finds him funny? maybe today couldn’t be all that bad after all.

‘i know nancy.. we were roommates at emerson, she’s like.. the only person i’ve kept in contact with.’

he nods, going to speak but is abruptly interrupted by the sound of the organ chiming. your cue to actually start paying attention to the ceremony at hand. he turns his attention to the alter, exhaling heavily.

‘i’m so sorry.. i never asked your name,’ whispering with his body still facing the front, but completely leaning his shoulder into yours.

oh this wedding was about to be so much fun.

-

you had taken steve’s advice, who’s name you had now learnt, immediately downing a glass of champagne when you got to the reception. hey, if you were going to have to meet a thousand new people tonight, you’d have to be a little buzzed to do it.

it’s no surprise you’ve been shoved onto the singles table, finding your name on the board and slinking off to your corner of the banished. steve already sat slumped over at his seat which was suspiciously next to yours again. he totally hadn’t swapped out stacey’s name card for yours.. never.

you slide into the chair, ‘we have got to stop meeting like this,’ gently nudging his elbow with yours as to not alarm him.

‘huh,’ he smiles, eyes glistening, ‘it must be fate,’ swivelling on the chair to give you his attention.

‘must be,’ raising your eyebrows ever so slightly.

he’s nursing what must be his fifth? sixth? drink, this time opting for something a little more socially acceptable with a beer. if it weren’t an open bar he’d offer to buy you a drink but it seemed a little cheap.

‘so, where are you from?’ he’s utterly intrigued by you, desperate to know everything there is to know.

‘denver and then boston.. for college and now i’m in cincinnati for my job,’ you shrug, feeling immensely coy under his gaze, ‘i take it you’re from indiana like nancy?’

she had spoken about how people mostly stayed in their small town, they’d meet someone in high school and fall into the suburban family life without ever realising it. and then before they knew it, it was too late and they were stuck there. she was determined to not do that.

‘yeah..’ he sounds deflated, thinking of the place he called home, ‘but it’s home i guess..’ he taps on the table, ‘what d’ya do for work?’

‘i’m an editor at a publishing house,’ his expression says that he doesn’t entirely understand, ‘i work with a lot of writers and basically tell them what to do,’ that was the very basic premise of your role but you’d gathered that he probably didn’t actually care much.

‘oh wow.. so you’re boss lady then?’ swigging on the now-warm liquid, he’s listening intently to whatever comes out of your mouth.

‘hah.. not quite,’ fiddling with the tiny name plaque in front of you, ‘one day.. hopefully,’ you were never a fan of talking about yourself, ‘so what do you do?’

he rolls his eyes playfully, ‘work for my dad, i didn’t get into college soo.. he gave me a job,’ eyes wandering to the guests now joining your table, ‘but really i’m just a glorified assistant and even that’s being generous,’ playing off his disappointment with a small laugh.

‘well that doesn’t sound too bad..’ picking up on his demeanour, ‘shall we get another drink before we have to sit through the awful speeches?’

his pretty pink lips curl into a smirk, ‘i like your thinking,’ standing from the table with his hand offered out for you to hold.

-

‘i-i’ll say a couple words.. c’mon,’ he grins, stepping up towards the small stage, hopper reluctantly passes the mic over to steve, watching apprehensively as he climbs onto the stage.

robin sighs, this could really only go one way and she sure as hell did not want to be in the room to witness it.

there’s a chance that you two had slightly overdone it with the free bar.. you wince watching him up on the stage. the opinions of these people meant absolutely nothing to you but quite obviously did to him.

‘as you all know.. nancy is my ex girlfriend-,’ there’s a collective groan from the audience, ‘but.. but no, that’s not what i came to say.. i wanted to say that-,’ he hiccups into the microphone, ‘that the first time i properly spoke to jonathan, he beat my ass and fuck did it hurt,’ chuckling to himself, ‘but that ass kicking actually.. and you won’t believe it, but it made me a better person and y’know what.. i’m really happy for you,’ he thrusts his glass into the air, ‘so, please join me in a toast to our newly weds.. you deserve it,’ turning to face the cringing couple at the table.

nancy gives him a small smile, it wasn’t exactly shakespearean but the sentiment was nice and he hadn’t embarrassed himself or fallen off the stage head first so she was going to take it as a win.

‘thank you, steve,’ jonathan nods, steve’s sure he can see a tiny smile on his face despite the lousy speech he’d just given.

hopper claps him on the back as he gets off of the stage, taking a mental note to keep an eye on the boy for the rest of the evening. the free bar may not have been the wisest decision after all.

steve collapses into his chair, immediately leaning into you, ‘that was good, right?’ taking a sip of his drink.

‘uh.. yeah, maybe didn’t need to mention the ex girlfriend thing buuut.. i don’t think it was that bad,’ you laugh, watching as he nods in self satisfaction.

‘good, i’m glad you approve,’ his eyes are narrow, glossy as they look back at you, he tilts his glass for you to cheers.

‘cheers.. to a not-so-bad wedding,’ you say, knocking your glasses together.

‘and to new friends,’ he adds, that same grin you’d now become accustomed to after only a few short hours.

‘to new friends.’

-

you and your new friend had sorta maybe totally took full advantage of the free bar and the tiny bag of magic powder steve had kept in his blazer pocket. it wasn’t something you’d usually indulge in, but the champagne had gone to your head and the party was getting dull so..

‘i just wanna say.. i don’t do this shit all the time,’ using his credit card to push the powder into small lines on the edge of the basin, ‘just for when i need a little pick me up..’

he looks up at you from his hunched over position, he’s half-smiling as he pulls a ten dollar bill from his wallet, fiddling around as he rolls it into a small cylinder, offering it to you.

you’re cramped into one of the tiny cubicles together, your back pressed against the cold wall, ‘mm hmm and me either.. just to clarify,’ carefully placing the half-empty champagne flute down on the sink.

‘ladies first..’ hand brushing against against the small of your back as he stands up, mere inches from your face.

you oblige, bending over to sniff the powder, wincing as it stings on the way up. holding out the note for steve to take, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the note. perhaps it was the copious amounts of alcohol but you could’ve worn you felt your heart miss a beat.

he stands back up, holding his nose. eyes still very much refusing to leave yours. they’re a beautiful chestnut colour and you’re sure they looked even better with a sober mind.

‘ready to dance?’ you ask, raising your brows.

his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth to wet his lips, ‘in a minute,’ your heart pounding in not only your chest, ‘fuck- can i kiss you?’

‘please-,’

interrupted by his lips pressing against your own, eyes fluttering shut as his clammy hand finds your waist, pressing himself into your chest.

your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, his tongue glides over your bottom lip, mouth opening for him, as your fingers thread into his hair. he tastes of beer, cigarettes and the mint he’d not-so-sneakily shoved into his mouth before bringing you in here.

it’s all teeth and tongues, his hands getting grabby as they begin to roam around. you so desperately want to jump up onto the sink and let him fuck you into the porcelain right here. pressing your thighs together trying to satiate the growing ache.

you don’t, obviously. his lips chasing yours as you pull back, clawing at the back of his neck, the thumping music of the reception getting louder as someone enters the bathroom.

you put your finger on his lips, willing him not to say a word as the stranger locks themself in the cubicle right next to yours. he’s smirking, pupils blown out from the substance you’d shared. it was exhilarating, pushing his knee between your legs, fingers digging into your sides.

jesus christ, it feels like you’re in this position for eternity. waiting forever for the mystery person to vacate the bathroom. growing impatient as his fingertips dance around your hips, teasing as they tug on your dress.

eventually, they get the fuck out and steve is on your lips again before the door had chance to shut fully. moaning softly into his mouth at the sheer feeling of his thigh brushing against yours. you were a mess and he’d barely touched you yet.

‘shall we.. go? i have a room upstairs,’ mumbling between kisses, not wanting to let go of your lips for too long.

-

there’s a banging on the door just as he’s managed to slip your dress off. you clutch the material to your chest, covering your dignity in fear of intruders.

‘steve? you in there?’ a woman’s voice calls through the wood.

your eyes widen, absolutely certain that he’d had some hidden girlfriend who was now positively fuming that he’d disappeared with you.

his head slumps as he breathes out, hair brushing against your face, seemingly relieved with whoever was outside, ‘it’s rob.. let me just..’ he clambers off of the bed, ‘she won’t leave until i answer.’

steve swings open the door, met with an unimpressed robin. she’s been scouring the party for the last hour trying to find him. only to find out that he’d last been seen with a girl no one had ever seen before.

‘heyy rob.. everything okay?’ he asks cautiously, well aware that he was shirtless, belt hanging from his pant loops.

‘is everything okay with you? you just disappeared.. what’re you doing in there?’ eyeing his disheveled appearance.

‘ah shit i’m sorry.. i couldn’t find you,’ lies, he hadn’t even looked, far too interested in getting you back to his room.

her eyes narrow, glancing down at the hastily removed heel in the doorway, ‘d’you have a girl in there?’

he frowns at his best friend, ‘wha-? i’m just, going to bed..’ following her gaze to the shoe, ‘yes.. there is.’

you try not to giggle from behind the door, watching as he kicks your shoe backwards into the room.

‘ew,’ she grimaces, ‘why’d you answer the door, you freak.. i’ll see you in the morning,’ scoffing as she walks away.

steve closes the door gently before making his back to the bed, ‘i’m so sorry.. she woulda called the cops if i didn’t answer,’ climbing onto the mattress, sat on his knees in front of you.

‘oh? and she’s your..’ slightly bemused as to who that even was and why she seemed to care so much.

‘best friend,’ he leans in, tugging at the dress still pressed against your chest, ‘so where were we?’ devious smirk painting his face as your grip begins to loosen.

he presses forward, connecting your lips once more, nudging you into laying back, hovering over your body with one hand attempting to wrestle the dress from between your bodies. it lands on the carpet with a soft thud, his hand now free to roam the length of your body, fingers softly brushing over the waistband of your underwear before settling on your thigh. it’s cruel and teasing, you’ve already wasted so much time.

you move your hips upwards, chasing his touch. utterly desperate to feel him again. groaning into his mouth, not bothering to hide your impatience. steve smirks, walking his fingers up toward your hip.

his fingers slip into your carefully chosen panties, choking for air as he pulls back from your lips, ‘holy shit.. you’re soaking,’ still lingering around your aching heat, not doing anything to satisfy the growing wetness.

‘shut up,’ you grumble, pulling him back onto your mouth. rutting your hips to signal how desperate you really are.

he finally gets there, middle and forefinger travelling between your slick folds, rubbing pathetic circles around your clit. you’re grateful for the long awaited release, detaching from his lips to moan.

‘ohh fuck,’ he mutters, feeding off of the delightful sounds coming from your mouth. his cock twitching against your thigh.

‘please,’ you whine, unable to take any more of his incessant teasing. it had gone on for what felt like forever. you blame the various substances for your neediness and the subsequent lack of embarrassment for it.

‘keep begging like that and you can have anything you want,’ rescinding his fingers to tackle his own belt, hastily unbuckling the metal and yanking his suit pants down. boxers coming to rest around his thighs shortly after.

your eyes widen at the sight of his leaking cock springing up. you had felt that he was big but holy shit, this was something else. your surprise doesn’t go unnoticed, his veiny hand fisting his cock as his other hand comes to rest beside your head.

‘i’ll go slow,’ he breathes, eyes hooded as his chestnut eyes gaze into yours. he was used to the apprehension by now. your clammy hands grip onto the back of his neck, feet coming to rest on his lower back. nodding quickly underneath him.

he slides into your cunt achingly slow, his mouth falling open. a strangled sound rumbling from his throat, ‘fuck.. you feel.. so good,’ staying where he was, assessing your reaction before making his next move.

it feels like he’s splitting you open but it’s good. burning desire filling your veins, ‘fuck me..’ you nod, ‘please fuck me,’ becoming accustomed to the feeling of being full, pleading for him to just move.

you don’t have to tell him twice, an animalistic growl escaping as he begins to thrust his hips. he’s still holding back, you can tell but it’s oh so much better than his stagnant pace of before.

your eyes struggle to stay open, eyelids fluttering as he slams into you. hitting the sweet, soft spot you’re sure only he could reach. back arching off of the mattress, sweaty chests colliding, chasing that feeling.

‘oh my god,’ you moan, loud enough for whoever is staying in the adjacent room to hear. it’s filthy, lewd and desperate. the sound of his balls slapping against your supple skin, fastening in response to your encouragement.

‘yeah?’ he pants, reaching his hand around to brush the wild hair from your face. ‘been waiting to do this- nghh.. all fuckin’ day,’ relentless with his tempo, pubic area perfectly catching against your throbbing cult, hurtling you towards your orgasm.

‘fuck,’ you grit, eyes screwed shut. it’s disgusting how the sounds of your cunt fill the room, even worse that it was encouraging him. pounding into your hole ruthlessly, grunting as he nears his own orgasm.

the familiar sensation twists in your stomach, mouth hung open as it’s useless even attempting to muffle yourself. ‘steve..’ you mewl, more as a warning that you were fast approaching your release.

he can feel it, the way you clench around him and the utter mindless babbling coming from your mouth were all too familiar. ‘you gonna come? huh? you wanna come?’ struggling to keep his own composure.

you can’t even verbalise your response, nodding maniacally while your legs squeeze around his waist, keeping him deep inside as you begin to tremble. stomach flipping and your head becoming fuzzy, the tip of his cock nudging against the spongy spot as you come undone around him.

the pleasure is almost overwhelming, tears pricking in your eyes as you writhe against him. ‘shitshitshit,’ whining breathlessly into his ear.

‘oh fuck,’ he barks, beginning to lose his rhythm. hips stuttering as he fills you up, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. pulling out far too late and collapsing on top your sweaty body.

chest rising and falling in time with his as you try to regain your breath, still clinging onto his neck while he buries his face into your shoulder, arms wrapping around your back.

‘oh fuck is right,’ you remark, giggling at his pathetic demeanour. fingers running through his damp hair, his wet lips pressing against the skin of your neck. your mind still too hazy to truly comprehend the implications of him coming inside of you. something for tomorrow you to worry about.

‘i’m sorry,’ he mumbles, cocking his head to finally look up at you, ‘your fault..’ attempting to crack a joke.

‘oh it’s my fault?’

‘oh yeah,’ shifting off of your body and onto the bed slightly, still holding onto your waist. ‘i’d have a baby with you any day,’ wrestling to pull the blanket over your bodies.

you narrow your eyes, resting your head on the soft pillow, choosing to blissfully ignore his comments. the toll of the long day starting to take on your body as your eyes begin to close. snuggling into the side of his body, tangling your leg between his.

‘i wasn’t joking,’ he murmurs sleepily, fingers brushing your back softly.

‘shut up.’

-

you’re wary of even waking him, wondering if it’d be easier to just slip out unnoticed. maybe you could leave a note on the bedside table for him to find.

no. no, that’d be rude. most one night stands you wouldn’t even be contemplating it, you’d have ran out of there the second you were awake. something felt different with steve.. like maybe you shouldn’t.

you nudge his arm, leaning over his body.

‘steve? steve.. i have to go..’ you coo softly, coaxing him awake.

he jolts, snapping his head in your direction, ‘huh? what?’ squinting as he comes to, head already pounding from the copious amounts of liquor he’d ingested last night.

‘i have to go..’ smiling at his sleepy demeanour.

‘what? no.. no no, where are you going?’ voice heavy with sleep, a whole octave deeper than it was last night.

‘i’ve gotta check out out of my room and drive home.’

he sits up agains the pillow, stretching his arms out with a stifled yawn, ‘now? it’s so early,’ his fingers wrap around your wrist, ‘stay.. ten minutes,’ gently trying to pull you back into the bed with him.

‘it’s a long drive.. i can’t,’ you mutter, standing strong despite the overwhelming urge to just get back into the warm bed with him.

‘let me walk you back then,’ the smooth pad of his thumb tracing along your wrist, ‘gimme like.. five minutes and we can go,’ dropping your arm as he springs out of the bed.

‘you don’t have to.. really,’ you persist, watching as he shimmies into a discarded pair of sweatpants, frantically searching for a clean t-shirt in his suitcase.

‘well i’m going to,’ he pulls it over his messy hair, it had been neglected the last few days and he’d been kicking himself for not looking his best for you.

you simply smile at him, nothing you could say would change his mind so it was easier not to and you weren’t exactly averse to spending more time with him.

he emerges from the bathroom looking slightly more put together, ‘okay i’m ready.. let’s go,’ grabbing his wallet, nearly empty cigarette box and his room key from his discarded pants pocket and grinning.

it’s a comfortable silence on the way back to your room, steve nodding his head at a few wedding guest stragglers who were either doing the exact same thing you were doing or trying to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

the atmosphere is pleasant, almost natural as you walk the halls. arms brushing against each other with every step.

‘well, this is me,’ nodding at the basically untouched hotel room. you’d stepped foot in it once to drop your bag off and hadn’t seen it since.

steve’s biting down onto his bottom lip, ‘you really gotta go now?’ sounding a little disappointed.

‘i’m back to work tomorrow.. i’m sorry,’ trying to disguise your own disappointment. realistically, you probably wouldn’t see him again. just a one time, crazy wedding story you would look back on fondly in a few years.

‘i’m not,’ he offers, trying desperately not to let this go. dating in hawkins wasn’t great, and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever find someone like you even if he searched for his entire life. he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

‘oh?’ raising your brows.

‘yanno, i’ve never been to cincinnati before,’ smirking down at you, ‘i was actually thinking of taking a little vacation there.. like, this week?’

the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, ‘you know what? that sounds like a great idea.’