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writethrough · 1 year ago

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I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush”

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you.

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude.

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car.

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door.

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you.

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away.

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day.

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst.

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight.

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you.

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag.

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out.

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing.

“Wanna say that again?”

Your brows pulled in confusion.

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious?

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence.

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth.

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building.

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office.

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes.

I heard he keyed Billy’s car.

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up.

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making.

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough.

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating.

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside.

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette.

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap.

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets.

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you.

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood.

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile.

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out.

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.”

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal.

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.”

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile.

“You’ll have mine.”

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing.

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door.

—

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name.

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself.

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness.

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers.

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food.

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.”

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone.

You took a shot in the dark.

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?”

His jaw clenched and hands stopped.

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor?

But why?

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other.

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.”

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping.

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.”

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation.

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen.

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.”

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed.

Of course, that was what he took away.

“Billy,” you warned playfully.

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.”

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content.

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over.

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.”

Names.

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you.

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.”

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours.

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked.

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were.

He leaned his elbows on the table.

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.”

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove x female reader #Billy Hargrove x fem!reader #Billy Hargrove x you #Billy Hargrove one shot #Billy Hargrove oneshot #Billy Hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove fanfiction #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove imagines

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theemporium · 5 months ago

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hiiii!! could i please order a smutberry with prompts 32 and 40 with luke hughes?? 💕💕

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

40. “Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Luke Hughes never considered himself an overly cocky or arrogant guy.

Maybe it was down to the way he was raised growing up, or maybe it was more related to the fact that it just never really fit his personality. He was confident, no doubt. But it was never too in your face, never too over the top. It wasn’t his style. It wasn’t who he was.

But sometimes—just sometimes—there were certain situations where Luke found himself acting a bit…douchey, for lack of a better word.

It was warranted. It was always warranted. And this time was no different as he stepped off the ice, buzzing on a high that the final game buzzer left ringing through his bones. He felt like he could jump over the fucking moon if someone gave him the chance. And the energy in the locker room was no different.

It was no secret that there had been a lot of slack and doubt thrown at the Devils for drafting him. Most of them claimed he was only chosen for his name, for his brothers’ talents rather than his own skills. Most of them said he was a bust, a flop choice, and a variety of other names that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But he had been on fire for the last few games. Absolutely killing it. And it all lead to tonight’s game, a multi-point game that ended with Luke scoring the goal that secured the Devils the win to keep their streak going.

And he was fucking buzzing out of his skin.

The thrill of the win and satisfaction of proving those haters wrong morphed into something cockier, something that settled in the pit of his stomach and left him wanting more than slaps on his back or beers at a bar or praise from the media.

He wanted something much more fulfilling than all of that.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as you sunk down onto his cock. “Atta girl, babe.”

You let out a choked gasp as he bottomed out inside you, your chest heaving and your legs already shaking. You were straddling his lap, your legs spread and your wet thighs already exposing just how much he had been teasing you since he arrived home, since he practically ripped your clothes off and bent you over the back of the couch before devouring you from behind.

He was on a high and he wanted to keep his good mood going.

It just seemed that was at the expense of your brain because you were pretty sure he wasn’t stopping until he had fucked you dumb—not that you had any issues with that.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you whined, your nails digging into his shoulders and your head dropping to his chest. “Fuck, feel so big.”

“Yeah?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice, his hands soothing up and down your thighs. “God, baby, look at you. Fucking wrecked and I’ve not even done anything.”

“Luke,” you breathed out, your cheeks flushed and your eyes glossy as you looked up at him. “Please.”

“Nuh uh, baby,” he cooed as his hands cupped your face, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I’m the man of the night. You said so yourself, said you wanted to reward me.”

You tucked your lip between your teeth, the memory of your messages to him after the game flashing to the front of your mind.

“Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Luke grinned, leaning back against the headboard and giving your ass an encouraging slap. “Wanna see my pretty girl bouncing on my dick, see you fuck yourself dumb until you’re begging me to take over.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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hispg · 1 year ago

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Just the tip

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You asked him for just the tip, and that's exactly what he's going to give to you.

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, soft! Dom Leon, pet names, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

An: I found this draft sitting here, so yeah, I'm posting it XD. My finals are next week, so I can't wait to be free and write more😭😭

"Just the tip, you say?" Leon asked quietly, not stopping shoving his fingers into your cunt for a second.

You were so wet, you'd even lost count of how many times he'd made you come that night. All he could hear from you were babbles that made no sense at all, or the whimpers you let out every time he viciously pulled your clit up.

"Mhm-mhm..." You murmured at his question, nodding.

You were so hot, so turned on. Your mind went wild with every touch, you felt like rolling your eyes every time he hit that weak spot of yours so easily.

All he did was frown at your response, using his free hand to lift your chin and make you look at him.

As always, he had that sideways smile on his face, that dirty look that never failed to make you wetter.

"Use your words, pretty thing." He purrs, taking the opportunity to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Y-yes. Just the tip." You whisper embarrassedly, biting your lips to keep your moans from getting even louder.

You were without a condom, completely unprepared for this situation, not least because you didn't imagine the night would end like this.

So maybe if he fucked you with just the tip, there wouldn't be much of a problem, right?

The next thing you heard was a low chuckle, and he buried his fingers in you once again, making you see stars with the spots he was hitting. Or how deep he could reach, which you couldn't even dream of doing on your own.

He did everything calculated, moving in and out, letting your juices make a mess with every thrust of his fingers, the wet, dirty noise mixing with the heavy breathing coming out of you, which by the way were the only sounds present in that room.

"So sweet for me, mhmm... So beautiful." Another one of Leon's whispers in your ear, which made your walls unconsciously tighten around his fingers, your eyes rolling in their sockets just from hearing the little praise.

You knew you were going to fall apart in his fingers once again, but what could you do? His lips glued to your neck, his teeth lightly nibbling at your skin. By then you knew you'd be full of love bites the next day, you bet.

And as if he simply wanted to finish you off at that moment, he lay down a little behind you, spooning you. Your ass hitting his prominent erection, the warmth of his body mixing with yours.

A sign almost enough to make you go over the edge, however, those weren't Leon's plans now.

That's because he withdrew his fingers from you, making a point of using one of his hands to pull your ass against his crotch, shamelessly pressing his erection into you.

The dirty whimper that comes out of your mouth is more than enough to make him grunt in your ear, this time starting to use his free hand to grab your breasts, grasping and squeezing them.

"Sweetie, are you going to cum again?" He was just teasing you, you could tell by the way he was humping your ass.

His hips moved non-stop, and he did it just to see your eyes roll back, your lips parted as you moaned his name again and again.

"A-ah... mhmm— Please." You begged, rubbing your clit against his knee, which was already between your legs.

He could say what you wanted, but maybe he could play with you a little longer. You could feel his muscles flexing behind you.

Or the way the veins on his arm were so prominent as he flicked your nipples between his fingers, making a point of pulling and pinching your nipples gently, yet firmly enough for you to shudder underneath him.

At the same moment your nails sank into his forearm, so deep that you could already see the red marks forming on his skin, marks he wouldn't mind covering.

Your voice becomes even more whimpery when you hear the sound of him undoing his belt, the skillful hand that never took long to remove his clothes, and yours too.

Then you hear him taking off his pants and underwear, causing his cock to simply stick out.

And it was so hard, flushed and swollen, as well as the delicious trail of pre-cum dripping from the tip of it.

Soon his cock was in your pussy lips, getting dirty with your fluids, as he moved back and forth, humping against you like a dog in heat.

You were just whimpering at this point, clutching your pillow as Leon pounded you from behind, and he occasionally rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time. His pre-cum leaving a sticky line on your clit, basically almost gluing the two of you together.

"You're so fucking hot, don't tell me you're going to cum with just that." And there you went, as if that was all you needed to hear to cream on his cock.

Fresh cream coating his entire length, making him growl in your ear once again. His fingers gripped your hips tightly, leaving his mark there, you could already feel it.

"Good girl." He compliments you, giving your ass a playful smack, slowing down his movements, letting it be something more gentle and soft, which wasn't unusual coming from him.

However, that night he wanted to make an exception to the rule, he was going to give you what you asked for, and you asked for the tip.

And have no doubt, because that's exactly what he's going to give you.

He turned your body a little, lowering your hips so that he could put one of his legs on top of you, basically mounting you, you could feel his chest on your back.

"I want to see you cum again, yeah? Can you do that for me?" Even though he knew the answer to that question, he wanted to hear your sweet, sly voice telling him that you could do whatever he wanted.

He didn't waste much time pushing into you, but just his girth, just a little. But it was enough to stretch you, to make your walls wrap around his shaft, which, by the way, was already satisfying you so much.

You moaned, arching your hips towards him, feeling his body on yours even more.

"Mhm- Leon..." You called softly, looking up at him slyly, only to see him smile once again.

He was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I haven't even put half of it in." A grunt in your ear, he wasn't angry, quite the opposite.

The fact that your pussy was so tight for him was simply a blessing in his eyes. How did you manage to fit him so well? The only plausible answer was that you were made for him.

Soon he began to pound into you, shallowly and slowly, but you couldn't help but hear the erotic moans coming from his lips, or the way the wet noises of him fucking your cunt filled your ears.

It was so filthy, so impure, if he was being honest, nothing compared to fucking you without a condom, it was fucking good.

You weren't helping him either, honestly. You were so wet, moaning and shaking under his body, what could he do?

Your hips moved up and down with each light thrust, each time his girth moved in and out of you.

You could tell how much he was controlling himself, or how much he wanted to lift your ass up, bury your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind.

God, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to.

But fucking you like that, just with the tip, was just as good.

"Good? Mh?" He purrs, moving his lips down to meet your ears, licking and nibbling at the spot.

You just nod eagerly, biting your lip and looking at him with those sly eyes of yours, asking for the dirtiest things with just that innocent look.

"Look at you," He continues, his thumb finding your clit and then starting to make little circles. The firmness is more than enough to make you shiver and let out a loud squeal.

"Begging me to fuck you? Begging just like the needy little thing you are." He grunted loudly, thrusting deeper now, you could feel him in almost all at once.

All you did was whimper, clutching your pillow as he rammed into you relentlessly, and there was just a little bit left before he forgot to put in just the tip and started fucking you for real.

What could he do? You were pulling him in, your velvety walls inviting and nestling him so well, how could he say no?

"Leon—" You gasped, looking at him with glassy eyes, a sign that you were almost there once again.

Your hips bucking against his, without you even realizing it. Just as you didn't realize that you'd already creamed all over his cock, leaving no spot clean.

How dirty of you.

All he did was hold you down to prevent you from moving too much, he swears to God he couldn't hold his load if you kept squirming more than you already were.

And then you whimpered loudly, in an incredibly high-pitched way. And there you were again, wetting the sheets for who knows how many times.

White cream dripping off you, getting all over your thighs and Leon's cock in the process. He couldn't help himself, throwing his head back and grunting a loud 'fuck', eyes wide as he watched you cum for him.

And that, that was all it took for him to lose control.

"I'm going to give you what you want, sweetheart." Words that sounded so sweet, completely different from the action he was about to take.

Soon he was turning you over in bed, making you lie on your stomach, your face buried in the pillow as he lifted your hips, holding on tightly to your sides.

The image was so dirty, so impure. He could cum just looking at you.

Unkempt, messy, trembling and whimpering beneath him. Your needy little hole leaking all your fluids, making you even wetter, and that was so tempting.

"I'm going to fuck you the way you want, isn't that what you want, mh?" He asked softly, taking advantage of the moment to spread your ass cheeks with his broad palms, holding on with a firmness that made you almost go crazy.

In one swift movement he pressed into you, without any effort he was completely buried in you, cock buried so deep that you could feel every inch of it, every vein pulsing. Each and every centimeter.

The stretching he did on you that every time you couldn't help but roll your eyes and bite your lip to prevent a moan slipping out.

Once again he let his head fall back, his blond strands sticking to his forehead, his lips open wide, leaving room for the dirtiest, most erotic grunts to escape.

He was so comfortable, so nestled into you. And it only got better when he started slamming into you, hard and deep, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against you.

You were so wet, your cunt so wet and tight that he could hardly contain himself, you were simply juicing his cock with every sharp thrust he gave you, to the point where there was a white ring at the base of his cock.

His fingers sinking into your flesh, gripping your sides so tightly that you could feel the marks that would be left there. All you could do was clutch the covers with your trembling hands, muffling your sounds in your pillow.

It was so good, the feeling of fucking you raw like that was irresistible, feeling your pussy tightening and clenching around him, your warmth and the way you were so tight.

Or even your trembling moans, the way his name came out of your lips in such a sly, sloppy way, just to match the mess you were in.

And as soon as he started pounding into you even harder, he couldn't help himself, your body arching, your toes curling and the words disappearing from your mouth. You clenched tightly around him, all your fluids gushing out at once.

That was it, it was over for him right there, just watching you milk his cock right then was all he needed to come inside you.

"Fuck-fuck," was the loud grunt he let out, closing his eyes at the erotic image in front of him. One he wouldn't soon forget.

He didn't have time to pull out of you, your hot, tight pussy wouldn't let him go anywhere.

So that was it, he couldn't stop his hips before his cum spurted into you, he just gave up on anything else when he felt his hot liquid filling you.

Hot white cum leaking out of your dripping hole, your juices mixing with his. The curses coming out of his mouth as he watched the situation were nothing like the scene that was right in front of him.

That was the first time he came inside, but he can bet it won't be the last.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #re leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon re4

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foodfightnovelization · 8 months ago

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ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight

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Holy chips! It's an exciting time to be a Foodfight! fan, because ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight is finally out! This really is THE definitive documentary on the insanity behind the movie, and it finally answers the question of just what was going on behind the scenes during production. Since I helped out with research (and I even get a short line of dialogue at 45:19) I've already seen everything that was shown off, but had to keep quiet until all the interviews were conducted and the documentary was finished. But now it's out and everything has been made public, the cat's out of the bag (the Fat Cat Burglar?) and I can talk about all the production material that's been shared.

Before I get into any of that though, I'd highly recommend you watch the documentary for yourself. It's insanely well researched and put together, and having worked together with Ziggy Cashmere (the documentary's creator) I know how hard he dedicated himself towards making this all possible. If it weren't for him, the most interesting Foodfight! discovery would've been finding the novelization, and we would have never gotten any real insight into how this movie came to be. It's also a documentary that really speaks for itself- I don't want to say too much about what it reveals since it's all expressed far better through its narrative and the interviews with people who actually worked on the project. My favorite is the interview with texture artist Mona Weiss- she tells such horrifying stories about how she was treated by Larry and other crewmembers, yet does it all with a sense of humor that makes it clear she's enjoying getting to talk about her crazy experiences. It's clear Foodfight! was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, and there's nobody to blame for that but Larry Kasanoff himself. The movie was rotten from the top down and despite the countless talented animators and artists working on it, nothing could fix the fact that it was fundamentally mismanaged in the worst way possible. I think the quote from producer George Johnsen summarizes it best: "Foodfight! was a good idea that unfortunately lost its way during production. The technology, the art, and the direction were not in sync. Many very talented people gave their all to make the picture, but more understanding of process from the top was needed for it to succeed."

But if you saw the documentary, you already know all that, right? So instead, let's talk about the behind-the-scenes material that's finally been shared! You can find everything I'll talking about HERE on archive.org-

It's worth following the link and checking it out for yourself- there's so much it'd impossible to discuss everything. Artwork, storyboards, bloopers, models, a nude render of Lady X, an interview with Larry Kasanoff, the list goes on and it's still being updated! Despite the documentary already being out, people who worked on the movie are continuing to share new material! It's pretty incredible- for the past year I've ran this blog all I've really had to discuss are two tie-in books, and now there's so much Foodfight! material I can't even keep up with it.

I mean LOOK at all this, isn't it fantastic? The character art by Jim George showing off just how much better these designs originally were, the countless environments showing off just how stunning Marketropolis could've looked as well as the strength of the core idea "what if a supermarket came to life at night", and insanely detailed storyboards for a 7-minute pitch reel that was used to sell the movie to investors. Normally, I'd be ALL OVER this because it's all just incredible, but there's something far, FAR more fascinating than any of it.

There are even multiple drafts of the script (one from 2005 and one from 2007 respectively) and normally I'd be insanely fascinated by those too, making extremely detailed posts explaining the differences between the drafts and how they compare to the novelization, but there's something else that was found that blows ALL of this out of the water and is easily one of the most monumental lost media discoveries of ALL TIME.

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That's right, a rough cut of the ENTIRE movie from 2005 has been found, containing nearly ALL the completed animation from earlier on in production. I mean, that's mindblowing right? We first got sent this around a month ago, a little while before the documentary came out, and I literally stopped everything I was doing at work to just sit and watch this. This is the closest we're ever going to get to the "original" version of Foodfight! after all- only 7 minutes of footage was ever actually made before they switched to mocap, made solely for the aforementioned pitch reel, and this workprint contains practically all of it! On top of that there are some great storyboards in here, as well as some truly hilarious ones cobbled together from 3D renders, and the plot is far better than what we ended up with, a lot of the more inappropriate jokes being absent. This rough cut is actually pretty similar to the novelization in that regard, and it also contains scenes that we'd previously only read about in there.

For example, in the novelization there's a snowmobile chase through the mountains, with Brand X soldiers on snowmobiles and a heavy avalanche close behind. This scene was completely left out of the movie itself, but in this workprint it's here! ALL the previously novelization-exclusive scenes are included, and this rough cut is seemingly based on an even earlier draft of the script than that- here Brand X are still defeated by a flood, whereas by the time of the novelization it'd been changed to a lightning storm. There are SO many exciting differences in this workprint, the snippets of original animation we get to see are SO good, and it's SO much better than the movie itself that I think it by far deserves the crown as the DEFINITIVE version of Foodfight! There's so much in it I want to discuss, that there's no way I can fit it all into this one post...so stay tuned, because in the next few days I'll be doing a FULL analysis of the 2005 workprint, pointing out all the extra brand mascots not in the finished film, and generally just gushing about how amazing it is.

I mean, this is it. Just take it all in for a second- the original footage was considered lost media for over a decade, and now it's practically been found in its entirety, embedded in an early cut of the whole movie...isn't that just phenomenal? All the mysteries have been unraveled, all the questions have been answered, and now we can relax, take a deep breath, and watch Foodfight!...the REAL Foodfight! Make sure to enjoy it, and join me next time for my analysis!

#Youtube #foodfight #dex dogtective #lady x #daredevil dan #polar penguin #rotten behind the foodfight

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yestrday · 11 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ DRUNK ON ECSTASY ! ft. yan! venti, kaeya, diluc, albedo

In a last-ditch effort to subdue your fiery spirit and finally claim you as his, your dear yandere mixes a little something with your food. different emotions arise, but one thing is clear— you’re soooo much cuter when you’re pawing at his sleeves and crying for him.

+ whew finally got this one out of the drafts!! did this instead of the reflection paper lololol

( yandere behavior, drúgging, aphrodisíacs )

venti does it in a last-effort ditch to break down your walls. don’t blame him, okay! he’s been trying sooo hard these past few months to even put a dent in that thick wall you’ve put up between the two of you. he’s confident in his looks and his charm, and has been exploiting the utmost out of them just to seduce you! but you’re sooo hard-headed, and he’s growing really desperate!

he adores your modesty, really! but the shy and reserved smile you put on when he makes a move on you pains him both physically and mentally. he wants to see all of you, the good ones and the bad ones, and he wants to assure you that he’ll love you no matter what! he wants to see you needy and desperate just like he is, but it looks like you’re trying to control yourself. but no worry though, because venti will make it his mission to set you free of such bothersome restraints.

and well~ ♡ venti giggles as he swirls the pink liquid around its heart-shaped vial, brazenly playing with it with your back to your wine. he knows juuust the thing to get you to open up. don’t worry, don’t worry ♡ venti can’t seem to repress the wide grin as he drops just a teensy bit of the potion. this is what friends do, don’t they? help each other out?

and he’s helping you out alright. not like he has much of a choice when you cling and grasp at him so needily. he’s laughing all the time, even when you’re begging for some sort of release. his laughter, bordering on maniacal and full of lust, is muffled by the blood rushing to your head. he loves it— those desperate eyes, the whiny pleas… you’re everything he’s dreamed of and more. isn’t this wayyy better? to be true to yourself instead of hiding what you’re really like?

“venti venti ventiventiventi pleaseee~!” your whines sound absolutely delightful to his ears, and even more so when he watches you cling to him with hearts in your eyes. your hair’s a mess, your cheeks are bright red, and you smile at him like you’re drunk on the attention he’s giving you. “hmm, i don’t know…” venti feigns hesitance, even though he’s kicking his legs in delight. “it’s getting late now… don’t you need to go home at this time already?” you shake your head fervently, clutching even tighter onto him. you stare up at him so desperately and pleadingly that it’s hard to connect you to the straight-laced person you were before. “i– i don’t need to! i’ll stay here for you, venti! just pleasepleaseplease!” you nigh sob, embracing his side as try to indulge in every warmth and touch his body can offer. “please touch me already!” the giggle he lets out is almost maniacal, one that would scare you if you weren’t high on aphrodisiac. he takes a large swig from the wine bottle (more pink than the usual red) and brings your face closer to his. your breaths intermingle, smelling of sweet wine and laced with lust, as venti takes in the prize he’s been coveting for so long. “you’re so precious, my darling,” he whispers, and when he swoops in to kiss you, tongue wrapped around yours, you swear you’ve never been more contented in your entire life.

kaeya believes that he’s not the sort of person to resort to such… disgusting tactics. he tells himself that he can win you over by his charm and hard efforts alone, but the way you smile politely at him or when you take every opportunity to avoid him… it only digs deeper into his insecurities. every witty remark he has is met with an awkward laugh, every time he tries to close the distance, you shy away. it hurts him more than he wants it to. he knows he should be giving up but when he stares at the vial of aphrodisiac he’d unthinkingly buy, he knows he’s far too gone to give up.

he tries to forget about it, tries his best not to think about what horrible thoughts he’s been having of you. but every time you show him even the slightest affection, a genuine smile here or a comforting touch there, he starts caving. how happy he would be if you showed that to him every day! he’d return every affection you gave tenfold, you’d never be starved of it. he wants you so, so bad it’s maddening, and every night he sleeps in his bed alone, his mind becomes a little bit crazier.

but tonight, you were with another. he knows he’s just a friend, that you see them nothing more than a brother, but that’s not how the other party looks at you. yet you lean into their touch so willingly, laugh with them without any restraints, and smile at them so blindingly it stuns kaeya even from across the room. he grasps tightly the bulge in his pocket, heart-shaped and taunting, and bites his lip.

he wants you so, so badly. so when you approach him with your wine glass lifted, greeting him with a drunken smile, he tries to pretend that he is the subject of your affection. tonight, it can be all pretend, but when he refills your cup and watches the pink wisps drown in the red wine, he tells himself that it’ll all be real after this.

“i’ve got you, i’ve got you.” kaeya acts like he’s not the one who made you like this, swaying tipsily from the wine and the drug and clinging onto him for support. well, maybe more than support, because of the way you nuzzle into his side and breathe a sigh of relief, kaeya thinks that maybe you’re longing for something more. “hehe, have i ever told you how handsome you are, mister kaeya~?” you ask him, smiling wobbly up at him as you gaze into his one eye. he gasps in shock when he realizes that your noses are barely touching, and he leans away quickly to save his rapidly beating heart. he wasn’t like this with others, he swears, but something about you makes him so vulnerable and flustered that he doesn’t know what to do. your rented room is barely lit, the candlelights on the side of the wall somehow adding a sensual atmosphere as he guides you to your bed. the feeling of your skin against his is like fire to ice, and the little whimpers you give as the heat tortures you from within sets his head spinning. he can barely handle it, and with the way you’ve been eyeing him… surely it wouldn’t hurt to hope for more. he tries to set you on the bed, but you’re quick to push him down first and straddle him with a triumphant grin. he knows he’s the suspect behind your behavior, yet you’re the one pinning him down and he’s the one blushing and gasping like he’s been caught in your trap. “kaaaeeeyyaaaaa~ ♡” you drawl, nipping lovebites and staring at him with heart eyes and a flirty pout. “keep me company for the night?” his breath hitches in his throat as he takes in your draping clothes and feels the warmth of your body on top of him. mustering up enough bravado, he summons his confident grin to his smile as he wraps his arms around your neck. his heart is beating in his chest, and his eagerness drowns out whatever guilt he may have felt. “anything for you, love.”

when desperate, diluc might not make the most rational of decisions. he had bought the love potion off the black market in a fit of mania after you had once again run off and hurt yourself. his illogical logic reasoned that if you weren’t willing to be under his care, safe, and protected, he might as well force you to want it.

the morning after, diluc’s face contorted with disgust as he looked into the reflection of a man willing to force the person he’d been pining for into something they didn’t want. he locked the crystal bottle under lock and key, swearing that not once would he ever use it. he loved you too much, and admittedly too prideful to resort to such cheap tactics. he needed you to love him of your own volition.

but tonight was another one of those nights, news of another dangerous stunt of yours in dragonspine reaching his ears. you were driving him insane. what archon would care if he kept you under his protection, shackling you to his side even if it meant depriving you of your freedom to explore the world as you wished? hell, he might even get rewarded for it, because you were going to kill yourself at this rate!

there must have been a reason why he didn’t throw away that potion like he had ought to do, a malicious subconscious telling him that he would need it in the future. and it was right, the side of diluc that he had despised so much was right. as he swirls the ominous glowing pink in its bottle, he watches it drop into your wine with a face devoid of any emotion– too sick with love and paranoia to even feel anything for the crime that he was about to do.

the way you’re shivering and reaching for his touch is making him go crazy. he had never expected the potion to be this strong (though he did drop a few too much just to ensure the… effectiveness), so he received your weak embrace with both surprise and a dark delight. your current image was one he thought he despised— babbling incoherently, swaying tipsily, airy giggles, just like the drunks he tended to— but on you, it was nothing short of endearing. especially with the way you whimper at his every caress, shaking in flush pleasure as you lean in for more. you’re pliant on his bed with hazy eyes anticipating his every move, and he gently lifts parts of your clothes to observe the collection of scars you’ve collected. “d– diluc…” you whimper, weakly grabbing at his wrist as he traces another once more. you’re so… small, hands barely wrapping around the width of his wrist. “wha… what are you doing…?” “observing my mistakes,” he replies, pressing a chaste kiss on your temple that has you whining. he sees this with dark eyes but refuses to let go of the leash he’s put upon himself. “all these scars that litter you’re body, it was my mistake for even letting you go out there when you can’t even take care of yourself.” he thumbs another scar and you bite your lip. “now you won’t have to worry anymore. i’ll be the one taking care of you.” “take care of me…?” you’re silent for a few seconds as if the reality of the situation has finally dawned on you. diluc sits in silence too, waiting for you to start screaming and kicking and demanding before a wobbly grin spreads on your face. “take care of me? ♡ then…” wrapping your legs around his neck, you pull him in closer till his chin rests on your tummy, and you smile so lovingly at him that he could almost fool himself. “then take care of me lo~ots tonight, ‘kay? ♡”

albedo doesn’t even bother reserving a love potion for a last resort. he might be a patient man with most things, but he sometimes likes to indulge in his sadistic desires. and there’s no other person than you who seems to rile up those desires more than ever. to have you shivering and weak on his table, moaning weakly as you beg with a bright flush on your cheeks… albedo could not have made the potion any faster.

he’s always been… scientific? when it came to matters of the heart. he’s not the type to chalk the unexplainable thumping of his chest to a mere clash of chemical reactions in his brain. rather, he looks for the fastest and most efficient way to get him results. he could try and be content watching you from afar, dressed in your cute waitress getup as you tended to customers, but archons knew how much he was itching to have his hands on you.

every time you smiled at him from across the street, bounding from good hunter to the little alchemy stall with food that albedo had ordered with ill intentions… it festered something dark within him. albedo’s no idiot, he’s fully aware of what dangerous ideas his mind has been cooking up this entire time. you chat with him with wide and trusting eyes, unaware of how his gaze lingers on your lips and how he purposely brushes your hair back to let his touch linger.

it drives him insane how naive you are, but it is an alchemist’s duty to break down things and build them up again to truly understand the way they are. and albedo is nothing but curious about you.

albedo is delighted at how much the potion seems to have an effect on you. you could barely think, head empty except for the constant need of albedo’s touch, and you beg for it so~o prettily too. he tucks a messy strand behind your ear, just as he always did, but instead of warm smiles and thank yous he’s met with whines and hazy eyes. “‘bedo, ‘bedo, pleeasseee~” you sob into his palm, hugging his arm in an attempt to keep more of his warmth to yourself. “wh- what’s going onnn? i’m sca-ared…” he shushes you, soft caresses tickling your neck as he presses a kiss on your temple. it’s exhilarating how much you shuddered from a mere peck and wondered that should he have made the effects stronger, it certainly would have sent you right over the edge. “sh sh shhh, it’s okay, darling. you’re fine. your body’s just reacting… accepting… let me indulge in this moment for a little bit longer, ‘kay? then i’ll relieve you of your pain.” you don’t process any of his words, just looking up at him with fearful yet trusting eyes. he chuckles when he sees this stupidly cute expression on you and helps himself to nip on your earlobe. “ngh, nha ♡ n- no! not the ear…! ‘bedo, ‘s too sensitive!” your toes curl at the onslaught of pleasure, and you can’t help but kick your legs as you’re overwhelmed. “y- you can’t…!” “oh dear,” he chuckles, pulling away from your lobe and watching as you lay on his lap, panting and twitching at the sensation of it all. “it’s just the ear, darling. surely, you can’t be that sensitive yet?” he eyes the cup of tea that he had brewed, suspiciously tinged with pink. “you haven’t finished your cup yet, you know.” “c… cup?” you slur, tongue feeling leaden. through half-lidded eyes, you can barely make out the sly smile on albedo’s lips. “wh… whaddya mean…?” huffing a fond laugh, albedo shakes his head and reaches out for the teacup, before tilting it into his mouth. his lips descend on yours, tongue swiping at your lips to be permitted entry. you part them, and the distinct taste of tea enters your mouth as he kisses you even deeper. “that’s what i mean,” he smiles, pulling away with naught but a string of saliva attached. now his cheeks glow pink, as he watches you with lustful eyes as pleasure and unbearable heat shake your body once again. “it’s time to fall even deeper, my love.”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere venti #yandere kaeya alberich #yandere diluc ragnvindr #yandere albedo #yester.writes

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 year ago

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Why?

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. Warnings: mentions of past abuse, self-harm, astarion is a little bitch that can't accept someone can take care of him, blood sucking, lots of pulling and letting go i guess?, messy emotions for messy people, self doubt and insecurities. Anxiety, panic attacks, nudity but not sexual. (if i missed something, please let me know. Summary: night is that moment when you can take care of yourself, but what if you find someone that needs more care than you? WC: 4.4k

Author notes: omg i finally finished this one, i've been working on it for a while now and initially it was supposed to be published before i started getting requests, which by the way im loving and im diligently working on<3, anyways this was a small challenge for me, i've been trying to work with stuff i wasn't entirely comfortable with to push my boundaries and learn something new, and this came out.. I hope you'll enjoy this read while I work on the next draft<3 love you lots!

When the moon finally made its way in the sky, and dinner had been consumed, you knew you finally had some time for yourself.

You’d take that time to scrub away the blood that stuck to your skin and the filth of the day. Traveling along a river had it’s pros: you found a nice spot along the bed of the Chionthar that seemed perfect for a bath.

That night the place was particularly silent, the wind was blowing between the leaves and it was the only sound that you could hear until you passed that funny rock shaped like a bear.

Initially you thought it was an animal, or at worse a beast, but as you delved closer rhe sound became much clearer.

Heavy breathing.

It was a sound you could recognize everywhere, because it was a sound you’d make on those nights when anxiety would take over and you felt helpless. Since you went through all the hardships of your life, you promised yourself you’d do your best to help people in need, and in that moment there was definitely someone that needed help.

Your stomach was churning as you followed the shallow breaths that reverberated in the silence of the undergrowth. It led to a small clearing where the moonlight was free to enlight as much as possible of your surroundings. On the opposite side from where you came from, someone was coiled on himself, exposing their bleeding back your way.

The slender fingers clawed at their own flesh leaving deep marks, but it was the whimpering that helped you recognize the person in front of you.

Astarion.

Astarion that was completely naked, his nails were digging into his shoulders, and trembling like a beaten puppy. His clothes were scattered around the clearing, they were ripped in the haste of the panic, you assumed.

You rushed to his side, dropping your bag next to him as you crouched and cradled him to you.

“‘Starion” You whispered as you scanned him, from the way he hid his face, to the red streaks along his chest, the pale skin stained with tears and his glassy, raw eyes.

His whole body was a trembling mess as he couldn’t hold back tears. The slow wails were filling you with anguish as you tried to calm him down just enough so he could make out a few words.

“Who did this to you?” You whispered softly, as you slowly dried his cheeks. The question awoke something in him, he slipped out of your arms before you could object and he tried to sit up.

His arms were shaking as he rested his palms on the leaves-covered soil. “No one.” He turned his head away, his eyes subsequently diverting from yours. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He breathed out as he tried to stop his eyes from getting more and more teary, yet failing at each attempt.

“Yes, it does.” You insisted, raising your palm and reaching for his cheek. Gently you guided his eyes back to you making sure he knew you cared. Making sure that he knew you only wanted to help him.

The pit in your stomach felt like a dark hole in you, swallowing everything with it. You’ve never seen him like this since you two met, not even when you learned his vampirism while he was starving.

Even when you learned small bits of his past, like how he got turned, he always kept composure, though you knew he was hurting. Now instead he was so vulnerable.

You felt a pang of guilt hit you, you were invading his personal space and he probably wanted to run away, yet he was growing on you, and if there was something about you, it was that no one hurt the people you cared for.

“Who did this to you?” You repeated still gently yet firm. You caressed his cheek with your thumb, taking your time to wipe away the remnants of his previous tears.

For a moment he hesitated, he wanted to hold back, but then his body gave out, almost slumping on yours. His eyes were duller, his lips were quivering, and he wasn’t sure he could ever form a full sentence properly, but you were there and you were trying to help him. No one ever tried to help him.

For so long he wished someone would waltz in and come to his rescue. He desperately wished someone would shake him awake from his worn coffin to drag him out of those filthy kennels. He wished someone would dry his tears and heal his wounds, yet for 200 years he suffered alone.

Instead you did much more than what he expected: you insisted, you didn’t recoil disgusted or gave up. You sat there trying over and over to patch him up, to find answers, and to find who hurt him so deeply that he’d end up bleeding alone in a forest.

You knew, of course, that he didn’t tell you his whole story when he opened up, it would have been foolish of him to do so since you were a stranger. He didn’t mention the scars that covered his back, or the constant nightmares during his reverie, cause of course elves couldn’t live without over analyzing things, or the true extent of his master’s punishment. You couldn’t have known yet.

His voice was shaky, broken, a whisper as he muttered Cazador’s name, afraid that even saying his name out loud would be too much, like that would make the monster materialize in front of him, but once he muttered his name, he couldn’t stop his words from being vomited out of his throat like sharing all of this with you was a new compulsion bestowed upon him.

“I was meditating when my brain decided to gift me an old memory” He sighed shakily. “And of course the memory was related to whatever is carved in my back. The pain was so vivid it felt like I was back there, hunched as that bastard was having the time of his life.” His voice was feeble, broken, it was so raw you were not sure how to react.

“When I woke up I was covered in blood and everything was hurting.” His eyes widened for a moment like he could rewatch those images over and over again, right there in front of you.

“My body was clearly not mine anymore, I was taken over by this fear that you’d all hate me for whatever this is, so I ran looking for a spot to hide.” He lowered his gaze.

“I guess before I could look around me, I sank on my knees. I felt like I was suffocating, Tav.” He was trusting you with something that he was running away from, something that terrorized him, something that you knew went opposite of his survival instinct. It was something that made him so fragile that he had to run away from a place that he should have considered safe, your camp.

Despite the gushing wounds he still ran, and yet he allowed you to get a piece of his mind, he didn’t kick you away like he’d usually do.

“My clothes were too much, the pain was too much, everything was too much. I'm not gonna lie. I literally ripped everything off before I could even process what I was going to do to myself. The only thing I knew was that the old scars were open again and they were gushing. I could feel it, Tav. I could feel the blood dripping down my fucking back.” His eyes were brimmed again with tears that he couldn’t hold back even if he tried, it was such a haunting feeling he wished he could erase the memory. “I couldn’t stop.”

He looked at his hands, his fingers were covered in blood and specs of his skin were hidden under his fingers. He was so disgusted at the sight that another sob quivered from his lips.

“You’re safe, nothing can hurt you now.” You leaned forward wiping his cheeks with your palms.

The remorse in his eyes was vivid, he just had trauma dumped on you and he knew you were going to hate him for it, but then you said his name so gently, so caring, that he allowed you to caress him.

You gave him time to ragain as much control as he could muster before you helped him up. He did look in need of a bath undoubtedly, and you had to go to the river anyways, so you asked him if he wanted to join you. You offered to clean his wounds so he could avoid infections, though you weren’t so sure vampires could get infected like that.

You both took your time standing up, his head was pounding so hard that his balance faltered. Your arms were there for him before he could hit the ground.

How was it possible that whenever he'd be deep in shit, you saved the fucking day? Just that day you did it twice and he would have sworn he didn't deserve any of it.

“I’ve got you” You made sure your arms were anchored on him, steadying his movements, and taking the opportunity to ask him if you could clean his wounds. He wanted so bad to refuse but his body felt so heavy, and his eyes pleaded for help no matter how much he’d try to hide it. Astrarion couldn’t recall a single person that cared for him so tenderly.In the past 200 years all he got was beatings, starvation, indifference, it was all so foreign to him, so much that the words you told him bounced in his head incessantly for days. “I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.”

It was like a second nature to you, you could read his eyes like no one ever did.

Yyu guided him towards the river, in that secluded spot you liked.

You settled down your bag on a stump, and along with it Astarion’s clothes. You decided you were going to clean those after you were done with your baths, and afterward if your fingers didn’t feel too sore, you’d work on fixing the tear along the back of his blouse.

You picked up the small bunch of bottles, and one of the small towels you usually carried around to clean your wounds.

Astarion let go of your hand only when you picked up those things, and even in that brief instant, his legs could barely hold him up. It was like he was dragged back in the kennels, like he had not fed in goddamned ages, and he lost too much blood to even breathe.

You didn’t notice it until you turned towards him, his body was quivering like a leaf in the middle of a tornado.

Despite the tremor and the blood, there was still something about him that leaked confidence, like the hurt that was encompassing him was not making him look smaller, or weaker. It was.. real.

If you thought you saw through astarion when you first met him, this was the moment you realized you were wrong. When you were slammed in front of this raw sight, you knew.

This was the closest you could get to the real Astarion, and it hurt. You didn’t understand why it hurt so much, but it was much worse than any other pain you could recall. It was a feeling that was eating you from the inside cause you knew his wounds were much deeper than what he shared with you so far.

Nevertheless, you didn’t hesitate to throw the bottles closer to the water and pass to astarion the towel, then before he could even understand what was going on, you whisked him up in your arms.

He wanted to complain- he wanted to rely only on himself-, but his body didn’t agree. It was like it was screaming at him, screaming to tell him that he needed help and that even for a moment, it would have been okay to let someone patch him up.

You sat him right at the edge of the river, where a log was already propped nicely so travelers could clean themselves without the risks of the flowing water, then without thinking too much about it, you stripped off your own clothes, discarding them quickly. You weren’t embarrassed, or rather, you were, but he exposed so much of himself already, that you felt safe to do it as well.

You joined him, sitting yourself in a spot that allowed you to slip in the water effortlessly, while still being close to Astarion.

The towel was the trick: you dipped the cloth in the water just enough that you could wipe away the blood without soaking the skin, then you’d gently run it down Astarion’s body to wipe it all.

You worked one small patch at a time, starting with his right shoulder and working your way through his scarred body.

His back was towards you, exposing the carving, which you identified as infernal runes. You cleaned him slowly and with a softness you didn’t know you had in you.

Everytime you’d move away to dip the cloth in the water, his body would soften, even if for a moment, before the towel grazed again on his scars, and he couldn’t help but flinch ever so slightly.

“I’ve got you” You whispered under your breath as you pressed the cloth on his neck, causing a long shudder to run through Astarion’s back.

He wasn’t sure what if was anymore: whether it was the towel still startling him or your words that seemed to mend him like tiny plasters putting his wounds back together. What you were doing for him.. it was nice. You soothed his skin, while whispering supportive words as you took care of him.

“I won’t let him hurt you again” You whispered while taking a moment to squeeze the blood off the towel, before resuming your slow descent.

As you worked on another patch of the runes, you couldn’t help but stare at the way the moonlight shone on his skin, it was a sight that otherwise you would never see.

Your eyes took in all his form as you cleaned and cleaned, and you could feel your heart running an extra mile.

The slow passing of time started to affect him after a while, his back slowly hunched under the heavy weight of his thoughts, his breath hitched as you diligently traced his back. No one was ever allowed to touch his back before you. He could feel the tears swelling again under his eyes.

You were so concentrated on cleaning that you didn’t notice until he was almost curled up again, and you helped him up.

You kept your arm around his waist so he couldn’t fall prone as you started working on the wounds on his chest, and that’s when his eyes met yours, the crimson was shining as the tears piled and piled on them, the moon only served the purpose of highlighting them.

Then when you scooted him closer to you and allowed his back to rest against your chest, he was a crying mess again.

This time his lips were moving before his brain could process his thoughts, for a moment you could see his sanity slip away hidden in the drops of his tears.

“Why?” He pleaded. “Why? Why? Why?” His voice rose between choked sobs.

“Why now?” The more he would ask, the more his voice would raise, until it finally broke in a whisper again. “Why didn’t you show up earlier? I could have been plucked from...” His words felt like a stab right through your chest.

"Shh" You whispered as you left the bloodied rag on his thigh, and you wrapped your other hand around his waist.

"I might have not made it in time, but I promise you I'm not leaving your side now" You pulled him on your lap, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. You knew that if he was still alive, you’d feel his chest pound incessantly as everything became overwhelming, but the only sound you could perceive was the rushing of the water. In any other occasion you would have hated the closeness of your naked bodies, you would have been weary of such intimacy, yet it felt different. It felt right.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” He asked when his breath finally set down again, and the only memory of it was the long streaks of tears still sulking his skin.

“Cause you don't deserve this” You still held him close as you lowered your voice, making sure the sound of the water could shield you both if you needed it, like a bubble around you.

“Liar” His tone matched yours, but with much more spite. “I've done awful things” He shook his head, it was something that heavily plagued him, he’d often have flashes of some of the horrible things he did, and that moment was one of them: he could hear the echo of the screams of the poor victims he’d bring back to Cazador.

“That doesn’t mean you deserved torture.” You cooed. “You didn’t have a choice.” You traced small soothing circled on his hip as you still held him close.

He sighed deeply, he knew you were right as much as he wanted to say that he could have ran away. The memory of the darling boy and the consequence of his action were a fierce reminder of it, everyday of his life.

“You are a fool.” He sneered. “I have stabbed in the back everyone I got close to, and you are still doing…” He pointed at the two of you, at the position you are sharing, at the rag on his thigh, at your arms around him, and the words you just told him. “This.”

“I like taking risks.” You chuckled softly.

“This is not a risk, you are doomed to fail and you are a dimwit” He rolled his eyes, evidently it was obvious for him, unlike you that still believed fairytales.

“Am I?” You didn’t falter, in that moment you felt confident in your choice.

“Are you forgetting the knife I held at your throat darling? What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again?” He retorted trying to make you waver, it was his survival mechanism at the end of the day. If he was able to slither in just enough doubt, he wouldn't’-

Your words caught his attention again right away, as you started counting on your fingers.

“The fact that we’ve been traveling together for 3 weeks, that I let you feed off me several times and you have not sucked me dry, the fact that you told me about your past, and that you allowed me to just wipe away blood from your back.” You stopped for a moment, building up tension and to perceive what went through his mind in that moment. “..and the fact that you are literally crying in my lap.” You finished.

“Okay what if i'm just manipulating you? How would you tell?” What was the game he was playing?

“I don’t think that what i witnessed tonight could be faked, ‘Starion” You finally sighed, relaxing your shoulders. You didn’t even feel your body tense up, that’s how much you were absorbed by this conversation between you two, cause it was so confusing.

He didn’t answer anymore at your last remark, he just allowed you to finish your work diligently as he was lost in thought again.

You made sure his wounds were clean before leaving the rest of his body up to him, and then you finally took your time to properly clean yourself as well as your clothes.

Drying your skin was by far the hardest step since you carried only one big towel with you: you opted to pat your bodies dry before slipping in your clean clothes, then you’d give him the towel to cover himself, since his clothes were in heavy need of repair.

The walk back to camp was fairly silent, since Astarion was still affected by the blood loss and you were lost in your thoughts.

You left your wet clothes next to the fire where they could dry while you’d rest, and then you started to walk back to your tent.

When you were just a few steps away from your little nook, you remembered.

Instead of sneaking directly into your tent, you made a beeline towards Astarion’s. He was still outside, sorting a few empty containers he had around, while his frustration was palpable in the air.

“‘Starion” You called quietly, avoiding to wake up everyone else.

“What? Are you here to give me your pity?” He scoffed as he was still fixated on the conversation you just had.

“Actually, I was wondering if you needed to be fed.”Your voice betrayed your worry which was loud and clear. “Earlier I noticed you were struggling, and your eyes are.. dulled” You explained, you wanted to pat his shoulder but you stopped just a moment before you touched him.

“So? Are you going to make fun of me if I am?” His walls were back up, the vulnerable elf you saw earlier rushed away behind this mask he carefully handpicked to push you away.

“No, you can feed off me though” You suggested encouraging. “If you want of course, take

your time, I’ll be in my tent” The last thing you hear was a muffled ‘thanks’ as you made your way to your tent again.

Astarion finally made up his mind, he strode quickly toward your canopy. “Darling?” He brought your attention to him. Your tent’s entrance was wide open, offering zero privacy to you as you were nose deep in some tome.

“Hey, come in.” You smiled, you were glad he was no longer avoiding you. “Can you please unhook the flap?” You asked while you moved the book away from the two of you. “I don’t wanna make you feel too exposed” You clarified.

“I appreciate it, but are you sure you want me to feed off you? I mean I know it’s not the first time, but it’s-” He hesitated, sure he wanted you to stay away, but at the same time that thought made him flinch away, like he should have felt differently.

“Yeah I’m sure” The apple of your cheeks warmed up at the nervousness, especially when you noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers. “You lost so much blood and the shock.. you definitely need to get your fill”

“Thanks” He avoided your eyes before sitting next to you.

On the other hand you took your time readjusting your little reading corner, making sure it would comfortably hold both of you.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything” He finally gave you the closest thing to a smile after a whole evening of tears. His arms wrapped around your middle as he helped you to lay with him. His touch was impossibly gentle: he moved away your hair and tilted your head to expose your neck, but he didn’t bite right away.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you to him, just like earlier you held him to you. He traveled down your neck with his lips, looking closely for your pulse, or so you assumed, then when he found a nice spot, he sunk his teeth in your flesh. Your body tensed for just one moment as you could feel his lips press around the wound, and your blood slowly leaking out.

Then you became putty in his hands, the dizzying sensation rocked you sweetly as you let it take over you.

He was slow, tender.

He held your head gently and pulled you impossibly close, almost as he wanted to fuse your bodies.. His legs naturally tangled with yours while he sucked and sucked on your skin like his life depended on it.

It took everything of you to repress the whimpers that would build up in your throat, it was different from all the other times he drank from you: in the past you’d just be very tense, but in that moment you felt like air was directly pulled out of your lungs, like your body was being set on fire.

He wasn’t in any different condition, he was barely repressing the moans as your warm blood rushed against his tongue, and his breath was hardly regular.

Even your blood tasted different, sweeter than before taking over all his senses. It was madness, it was like your blood suddenly turned into a drug he couldn’t resist, making his head spin.

He stopped only when he noticed you were starting to slump in his arms, a sign that you were getting too close to a no-going-back point.

He took time to lap away the blood that was still leaking from the pinpricks, sending jolts down your limbs, and stealing a sweet mewl from your lips. He didn’t concentrate on the sound he coaxed off your lips, cause he knew that if he did he’d probably spiral into insanity, so he focused on the wound he had inflicted, leaving a few kisses right where the pricks of his teeth made home, before reaching for your blanket and covering you with it.

He didn’t let go of you, or move at all for what it mattered, he had to internalize all those feelings that were overwhelming him before he could walk out. He knew that if he didn’t stop there until he was back in himself, he would have felt dizzy as well, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of passing out on the floor.

Was he blood drunk? Whatever feeling was cursing through his body, he wasn’t sure he could identify it, but moving was not an option anymore when he noticed you were still nudged in his embrace. He tried to sneak away, but you were cradled on him, ‘peace’ crossed his mind before it got swept away by something you’d mumble, he had to wait for a bit to catch what you said since you murmured something he couldn’t quite comprehend, until your voice became clearer.

“I wish I could have saved you sooner” You murmured under your breath. “Stay, i’ll protect you.” Your arms around his waist pulled him closer to you, slotting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle. Your warmth, your sweet flowery smell, your surprisingly gentle snore slowly lulled him in, closer and closer until he felt safe, and quietude took over him.

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alwaysmicado · 7 months ago

Text

you’re safe with me

3.2k | 18+ MDNI | Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, Dom!reader/sub!Steven, soft domination, spanking, praise kink, body worship, handjob, so. much. love. Summary: After he’s had a bad day at work, you make sure to show Steven how loved and appreciated he is. A/N: My first Moon Knight fic! It’s been sitting in my drafts for half a year now (yeah, I know) and I’m finally ready to share it with you. It’s sweet and I’m so happy with how it turned out. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ♡ Dividers by the wonderful @cafekitsune.

The clattering of keys in the lock stirs you from your thoughts. Steven’s finally home.

The heavy sigh that follows the door creaking open tells you everything you need to know. You glance up from your book, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as he trudges into the apartment. His usually lively eyes are clouded, and the slumped shoulders reveal a weight that words alone can’t convey.

“Hey, love,” you greet him softly, setting your book aside. “Rough day?”

Steven drops his bag by the door and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “You could say that, love,” he mutters, his accent thick with exhaustion. He plops down on the couch next to you, the cushion sinking under his weight. “Everything that could go wrong at the museum did. Everything. And Marc...well, Marc’s been particularly vocal today.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Not really, love. I just...need a moment to breathe. I’m sorry.”

You watch him for a moment, taking in the lines of stress etched on his face. It’s clear he’s had one of those days where nothing goes right. He looks vulnerable, worn out. Your heart aches to see the man you love like this.

You’re about to ask if he would like a piece of the chocolate cake you baked this morning when a thought crosses your mind, and you wonder if it might help.

“Steven,” you say softly, your voice a gentle caress. “Do you want to...play tonight?”

His eyes flutter open, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I’d like that,” he admits sheepishly, a spark of hope flickering in his tired eyes. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

“Never,” you assure him with a bright smile. “It’s never too much trouble for you.” You rise from the couch, offering him your hand. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Steven takes your hand, allowing you to lead him. His hand in yours feels so right.

The walk to the bedroom is silent, the air between you charged with anticipation. As you enter the room, you feel Steven’s grip tighten on your hand. You turn to him, noting the mixture of anxiety and excitement in his gaze.

“It’s okay, love,” you whisper, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “You’re safe with me.”

He nods, a shiver running through him. You guide him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He does so, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes that you adore so much.

“Strip,” you command softly, but firmly. “And kneel at the foot of the bed.”

Steven complies, his movements slow and deliberate. He undresses, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair by the window. Then, he kneels, his posture straight but relaxed, awaiting your next instruction.

You walk around him, admiring the view. He’s beautiful, even when he’s feeling low. Especially when he’s feeling low, because it’s then that he trusts you the most. You run a hand through his hair, and he leans into your touch.

“You’ve had a hard day,” you say, your voice low and soothing. “Tell me what happened.”

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “Everything went wrong at the museum. I dropped a display, messed up the paperwork, and Donna...she was relentless. Marc’s been arguing with me all day, and I just...I feel like such a failure and like I can’t do anything right.”

You kneel in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Steven, look at me.” He does, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re the best. You hear me? You’re wonderful, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He tries to look away, but you hold him firm. “But I messed up,” he protests weakly. “I’m just...”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You lean in, your soft lips brushing against his. “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

He swallows hard, nodding slightly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, seeing the faint blush that colors his cheeks. “Now, I want you to remember that tonight is about you. About making you feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You stand, walking over to the dresser. From the top drawer, you pull out a silk scarf and a leather paddle. Steven’s eyes widen at the sight, but he doesn’t protest. He trusts you, and that trust is something you’d never ever take lightly.

You return to him, the scarf dangling from your fingers. “Hands behind your back.”

He obeys, and you expertly tie his wrists together, the silk smooth against his skin. “This is to remind you that you’re in my care,” you explain. “That you can let go.”

You trail the paddle lightly over his back, making him shiver. “And this is for when you forget how amazing you are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” You walk around him, your fingers brushing over his shoulders, his neck. “Now, tell me again what happened at the museum.”

Steven takes a deep breath. “I...I dropped a display. It shattered into a million pieces, and everyone looked at me like I was an idiot. It was humiliating and I completely froze.”

You nod, absorbing his words. “And what did you think when that happened?”

“I...I thought I was useless,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The paddle comes down lightly on his backside, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Steven gasps, his body tensing.

“What did I say about speaking badly about yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he breathes. “I’ll try to be better.”

You run a soothing hand over the spot you struck. “That’s all I ask, love.” You move in front of him again, lifting his chin so he meets your gaze. “You’re not useless, Steven. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re welcome. Now, tell me more.”

Steven sighs deeply, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “The paperwork,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “I was supposed to catalog a new shipment of artifacts, but I got the dates wrong. Donna found out and she... she was furious. She called me a bumbling idiot and that hiring me was the worst mistake she’s ever made. And I...I think she might be right.”

He lowers his gaze to the floor, ashamed. Your gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on his face, watching every single expression. You’re fuming, gripping the handle of the paddle so hard your knuckles turn white.

Nothing makes you angrier than anyone daring to dull the bright light in Steven’s eyes.

You quickly collect yourself, pushing away your immediate thoughts of getting Donna fired. This isn’t about you or your anger right now.

You lift the paddle, bringing it down firmly on his other butt cheek. He flinches, the sting a sharp reminder of your words. You immediately soothe his hot skin with your hand, your touch gentle and reassuring. Moving in front of him again, you lift his chin, ensuring he meets your eyes.

“Steven,” you say calmly. “She had no right to disrespect you like that. None. It’s completely normal to get things wrong, especially with something as complex as artifact cataloging. I’ve never met anyone as passionate and dedicated to their work, and everyone at that museum is lucky that you’re granting them the gift of your precious time and talent.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But I know I should’ve checked the dates twice and, and I didn’t…and now the museum has to pay an extra fee and it’s all because of me and–”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’ve struck the supple flesh of his perfect butt again, this time with vigor. The sharp crack of the paddle against his skin surprises you both. Steven gasps, his body jerking forward slightly, but his reaction is immediate and telling. A low moan escapes his lips, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the sting spreads across his skin. His cock is hardening, the sight stirring up your own arousal.

You soothe the reddened area with a gentle hand, your voice firm but tender. “Baby, listen to me. Mistakes happen. You are not defined by them. The museum can handle an extra fee; no one died, it’s not the end of the world. What’s important is that you learn and move on.”

He shudders, nodding as he processes your words and the lingering sensation of the paddle. “Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice trembling with a mixture of arousal and gratitude.

“Good boy,” you praise, running your fingers through his hair. “Now, tell me about Marc. What did he do today?”

Steven takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to decide within seconds what to tell you. He can’t reveal the complete truth, not when it’s about…well, it’s about you. It’s about wanting to be with you forever. It’s about arguing over who will have the honor of asking you to marry them.

For weeks now, they’ve been debating the specifics of their proposal, your engagement ring patiently waiting, safely stashed behind a book on a shelf you can’t easily reach.

“He, uh,” Steven murmurs, “he’s been in my head all day, criticizing every little thing I do. I feel like he sometimes wishes he was alone, that he could be with you by himself, that he didn’t have to carry me around as well. And I...I don’t blame him”

You bring the paddle down with two firm strikes, and Steven’s moan is louder this time, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His body trembles with the intensity of his emotions, and you waste no time stepping in front of him, pulling his head towards your belly, and softly petting him.

“Steven,” you say, your voice gentle yet firm, “Marc is so grateful to have you. He tells me all the time. He knows how much I love you, and he would never want anything less for either of us. And Marc doesn’t carry you; you both support each other equally. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly strong. Neither Marc nor I would want to be in this world without you.”

Steven’s breath hitches, his face pressed against your belly as he absorbs your words. You continue to stroke his hair, offering him the comfort and reassurance he needs. His body slowly relaxes, the tension easing as he lets your words sink in.

“I appreciate you so much, baby,” you continue, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. “You’re important, and you are loved.”

He nods, his voice a soft whisper against your shirt. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you coo, lifting his chin so he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Now, tell me how that makes you feel.”

He swallows hard, his eyes glistening with emotion. “It makes me feel...valued. Loved. Like I’m not alone.”

“Good. ’Cause it’s all true,” you assure him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his warm lips. “Now, I think you deserve a reward. Would you like that, Steven?”

His eyes light up at that, a smile breaking through the remnants of his earlier gloom. “Yes, please,” he whispers. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

You caress his cheek and steal another kiss before smiling at him and straightening up.

“Kneel on the bed,” you say softly, walking to the end of the bed. “Get comfortable and face me.”

Steven complies, his movements fluid and trusting. He sits back on his heels in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on yours, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Your eyes drop down to his cock, where a string of precum is currently making its way down onto the covers. You bite your lip at the sight.

“You’re leaking, baby.”

“Oh,” Steven murmurs as he looks down, his cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and roll your eyes demonstratively as you cross the room. “Don’t make me get the paddle again.”

Steven smirks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You drag your standing floor-length mirror to the foot of the bed so Steven can see his reflection. His eyes widen slightly, but he stays still, waiting for your next instruction.

You move behind him on the bed, your hands caressing his body. “Look at yourself, Steven,” you whisper, your breath hot against his ear. “Look and see what I see.”

Your hands slide over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the defined muscles. “These shoulders, so strong and capable. They bear so much weight, and yet they remain steady.”

Steven nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move your hands down his arms, feeling the tension ease under your touch. “These arms, always ready to hold and protect. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

He swallows hard, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “My good boy,” you praise him. “Keep looking.”

Your hands travel down his back, tracing the curve of his spine. “This back, it’s strong and supportive. It carries so much, but it never breaks.”

Steven shivers under your touch, his breath hitching. “Yes, Ma’am."

You continue your journey, your hands gliding over his sides to his hips. “These hips, so perfectly shaped. So graceful on the dance floor and always bringing me so much pleasure.”

His cock twitches at that image and a soft moan escapes his lips as he nods, his eyes never leaving the mirror. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hands move lower, caressing his thighs. “These legs, they’re powerful and sturdy. They carry you through every challenge with unwavering determination. I admire that.”

Steven’s voice is barely audible as he whispers, “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move up again and pause, your hands resting on his lower belly. “And this,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his skin. “This is where you carry so much of your tension, but it’s also where your strength lies.”

He shudders, his body responding to your touch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hand slides down to his erect cock, wrapping around it gently. He gasps, his body tensing.

“Look at yourself, Steven,” you command softly. “See how beautiful you are.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You let go of his cock, and he can’t hold back a little whimper. Sensing his fear that you might not touch him again, you immediately lift your hand towards his mouth.

“Spit.”

Steven obeys without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. A small bead of saliva drips from his lips onto your fingers, and you smile approvingly.

“Good boy,” you murmur, bringing your hand back to his cock. The added lubrication makes your touch smoother, more deliberate, and Steven shudders, his body responding to your control.

You start stroking him slowly from behind, your other hand caressing his shoulder blades. You kiss his shoulder, your lips brushing over his skin. “You are incredible, Steven,” you whisper in his ear. “So strong, so capable. I love you more than words can say.”

He moans softly, his body trembling. “Thank you,” he gasps. “I– I love you, too.”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to,” you murmur, your strokes maintaining a slow, torturous rhythm. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice strained.

You continue to stroke him, your hand firm and steady. “Tell me how amazing you are, Steven,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m amazing,” he gasps, his body arching into your touch.

“Again,” you command softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “But this time, be specific. Tell me one thing you like about yourself.”

“I...I have a kind heart,” he stammers, his breath hitching.

“Good boy,” you whisper, your strokes maintaining their steady rhythm. “What else?”

“My...my intelligence,” he gasps, his body trembling.

“Very good, Steven,” you murmur, kissing his neck. “Keep going.”

“I...I’m dedicated,” he breathes, his voice growing more confident.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, your hand moving faster. “Tell me more.”

“I’m compassionate,” he moans.

“Wonderful, Steven. You’re doing so well.”

He shudders, his body on the edge. “Please,” he whispers, his voice desperate.

“One more time”, you instruct, your hand never faltering.

“I’m strong,” he cries out, his voice filled with conviction.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now, you may come.”

Steven’s body tenses, every muscle tightening as he teeters on the edge of release. His breaths come in ragged gasps, and with one final, shuddering moan, he comes hard. Ropes of cum spurt onto the bed, each wave of his orgasm rippling through his body like a powerful tide. His moans grow louder, a raw, primal sound of release and relief, filling the room with his pleasure.

You hold him close from behind, feeling the tremors of his climax echoing through your own body. Your arms wrap around him securely, grounding him as he rides out the intense waves of his high. His body jerks with each pulse, his cock twitching as the last spurts of cum spill onto the bed.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his sweat-dampened shoulder. “I love you, Steven.”

His body slowly begins to relax, the tension ebbing away as the overwhelming pleasure recedes. He slumps against you, utterly spent, his breaths coming in deep, steadying gulps.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and lingering pleasure. “I love you, too.”

You hold him for a moment longer, letting him bask in the afterglow before pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and pulling away. You untie his wrists, massaging the slight indents the scarf left on his skin.

“How do you feel?” you ask.

“Better,” he admits, a dopey smile on his lips. “Lighter.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say softly. “Now, how about you go take a shower while I warm up dinner, hm? And think about what movie you wanna watch.”

He nods, his eyes shining with affection. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You watch him as he heads to the bathroom, a small smile on your lips. Once he’s gone, you clean up the bed and head to the kitchen. You warm up the dinner you prepared earlier, the comforting aroma filling the apartment.

When Steven emerges from the shower, he looks refreshed, his earlier stress completely melted away. He joins you in the living room, and you hand him his plate.

“Did you decide on a movie?” you ask, settling down next to him.

He smiles, a genuine, relaxed smile. “How about that creepy robot movie you’ve been wanting me to watch with you?”

You chuckle, very pleased with his choice. “Sounds perfect.”

You eat together in front of the TV, the movie playing in the background. After dinner, you cuddle on the couch, holding him close and scratching his scalp gently. He sighs contentedly, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. “For everything.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your heart swelling with love. “Always, Steven. I love you.”

Thank you for reading!

Let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas/wishes for future fics. I’d love to hear from you! ♡

Masterlist | AO3

#steven grant x f!reader #steven grant smut #sub!steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #oscar isaac characters #steven grant #moon knight #oscar isaac #steven grant x female reader

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wcbblife · 9 months ago

Note

could you do paige with either a black gf or a volleyball player gf hcs??

Paige x Volleyball player!gf HCs

a/n: I've had this idea in the drafts for quite a bit of time. So glad you sparked my mind to finally finish it

Bit of background about you two ig:

What first stood out to Paige about you was the ability to absolutely spike the ball with an insane amount of power. The first time she saw you play she was with KK because they were both oh so bored on their free day. Next thing she knew you were elevating off the floor and slamming your palm against the ball with an insane amount of strength. They both let out a synched “DAMN” as the ball quickly made its way down to the floor with a resounding bang. One after the other, she was literally left with her jaw on the floor at how good you were and how you were able to carry the team to a flawless victory.

She definitely went home and searched all of your highlights, slowly being more and more captivated by how high you could jump and how fast you could react to get some saves. After that, she would literally make up the stupidest excuses to just see you absolutely dominate on the court.

Noticing her growing attendance, fans began to joke around on the internet (with pics and vids). You take notice of this. Especially on how she cheered extra hard whenever you helped on scoring a point.

Funny enough I think you two would meet in the library. She would pass you and the look on her face is hilarious (something between a mix of amazement, shock, and something else). She tries to stop the absolute sound of excitement that she wants to let out.

"Dude, you’re an awesome player.” She says, smiling super bright.

"Well if it isn’t my biggest fan” You tease. “But are you serious? You’re the cool one here.”

You both continue to absolutely geek out about one another and compliment the other's play style. It’s then that you find out that she absolutely loves when you spike.

You both get closer after one particular game where your famous strong spikes literally sealed the deal for the team to win. After a particularly impressive spike she literally jumped while screaming as loud as she could and you couldn't even deny that trying to ignore a tall blonde jumping erratically up and down was getting harder after each game. So you just turned towards her and pointed to mess with her. It worked though cuz Paige went absolutely crazy.

After that, you two started talking some more and you even started showing your face to some of her basketball games. And she asked you out after one of her hard games, caught up in the high of the game. You two immediately become the school's hottest topic after it.

Some actually normal HCs:

She absolutely is your biggest fan. No one ever cheers louder for you than Paige Bueckers.

Is eager to learn how to set for you so that she can help you with your spikes. Like seeing it first hand because it makes her feel so starstruck seeing it first hand.

Absolutely loves to play beach volleyball with you. Idk why she just seems like it.

Lovesssss to see you in your uniform. Especially with those shorts. Makes her go crazy.

Goes nuts when you react fast and save the ball. "YEAH BABY! YOU SHOW EM HOW ITS DONE!"

Will 100% challenge you to a 1v1 but immediately regret it as she watches you jump to slam the ball. “Chill! You're gonna kill me if you do that.”

She loves to learn and break down each set with you. Especially if you tell her it helps you better your game. And vise versa. You love to watch her games and hear her break down her own playing.

Outside of sports and school, Paige will literally show you off to everyone (like imagine a family Christmas party and she's literally holding someone hostage while showing them you play. “Isn't she awesome? I mean just look at her!").

Acts like a concerned mother whenever you fall one too many times in a game while diving to save the ball from touching the ground.

Loves it when you wink or smile in her direction while you're playing. It actually drives her a little crazy.

#wcbb #women's basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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landosjpg · 1 year ago

Text

boy next door | ln

the one where you come home to a sticky note under your peephole.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none!

notes: just a little blurb that has been sitting on my drafts for a while. i also have a rough draft for a part two because i feel like this didn't have enough lando, so let me know if you'd like me to go through it! not proofread

it was the beginning of july. the warm sun of monte-carlo kissed your skin as you walked your way back to your apartment, grocery bags in both your hands.

you had moved into your new house only a few weeks ago, finally being able to rent your own place and not depend on your parents' money anymore after two years of saving all your job's worth. it felt good, having your own place, even if sometimes it felt a little lonely. but you kept telling yourself that you just had to get used to it, give yourself some time to adapt to your new life.

however, you sighed contently as you stepped into the elevator; in the matter of a few minutes you would be finally resting in the comfort of your new couch for the first time that day. it had been a long day at work, and unfortunately, it was only tuesday. which meant you still had the whole week ahead of you.

while making your way to your apartment through the long corridor, you thought about what you'd make for dinner that night, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion the second your eyes caught a glimpse of something unfamiliar on your door. you walked towards it and left the bags you were carrying on the floor, one of your hands reaching for the sticky note right under the peephole.

"beautiful singing. bit old-fashioned, tho" the note read, a smiley face accompanied the message.

you read the words carefully, the confusion that you had first felt when you saw the piece of paper fading away with a chuckle. you took the bags from the floor and finally opened your door, the note still between your fingers when you made your way back to the couch after having put your groceries down in the kitchen.

you read it again and again as your head rested on one of the fluffy pillows of your couch. you had been singing your lungs out that very morning, right before leaving for work. but you thought nobody lived in the apartment next door. at least, you hadn't seen —or heard —anyone during the few weeks that you had been living there. but to be fair, you hadn't encountered that many neighbors during your little time in your new home.

for a few minutes, you thought about if you should answer with another silly note. it was a lighthearted joke, whoever had written those words couldn't mean any harm. and maybe that could be your opportunity make some friends around the neighborhood.

after a few minutes of considering wether it was a good idea, you sighed and got up from the comfort of your couch and walked to your room, lazily sitting in front of the little desk. a sticky note right under your nose and a pen between your fingers.

a long sigh of defeat left your lips as you leaned back against the chair. you had wasted a good fifteen minutes and way too many sticky notes to count at that point, and you still hadn't come up with a decent answer.

nothing sounded good enough to you. too rude. too dumb. too immature.

why was it that hard to just write down some stupid words? you wanted to make a good impression, to whoever that was.

"britney spears will never be old-fashioned. but i'll try to sing something that might be more to your liking next time."

you read it once again. you weren't completely satisfied by your choice of words, but you knew you wouldn't come up with anything better, and you had already wasted half of your sticky notes.

you decided not to give the matter any more thought and left your bedroom again, ready to end your night with a shower and something nice for dinner, feeling the exhaustion from the day starting to kick in, your body feeling heavy already.

୨୧

your smile lit up when you walked to your front door after another tiring day at the office, noticing how there was a new sticky note placed to the same spot where you found the first one the previous evening.

that morning, you had decided to stick your own note under the peephole of the apartment next door. and truth was, you weren't really expecting an answer. but there it was: the same handwriting thar made you chuckle once again, trapping your lower lip between your teeth as you read what it said.

"already doing a good job, loved today's setlist."

and with that, a few days passed as you kept exchanging silly notes with your mysterious neighbor.

until one night, you came home to a sticky note in your door with only a few numbers written on it. you were quick to add the number to your contact list.

"was communicating through notes too old-fashioned for you?" you sent the text without thinking too much about your words and patiently waited for a reply that didn't take long to arrive.

that was the first text of the many that followed, the note exchange that at first seemed dumb, quickly turning into long sleepless nights in which your smile only grew wider with each reply you got from lando.

of course, the second a few facts about himself slipped through his texts, you immediately knew who he was. it was only natural, your dad always had been a big racing fanatic, so you knew a thing or two about it. but you never expected him to be as nice.

despite of texting back and forth, often using your phone on the sly at work just for your face to bright up the second his notification popped up, you two never saw each other. with your tight schedule and him being away for work a lot of the time, it wasn't easy.

not that any of you had mentioned actually meeting up, of course, but you found yourself thinking about the scenario a few times before going to sleep.

and all of the sudden you found yourself laying on your couch on a saturday night, having canceled on all your friends just to stay in and talk to the boy who hadn't left your mind ever since you saw that stupid note on your front door.

"i'd rather have some rest," you told them. “this week has been exhausting anyway." but you weren't as tired as you made it seem. not even close.

and so, after putting on some comfy clothes, you lied on the couch and turned your tv on, ready to put some movie as background noise while you texted with lando.

"any plans for tonight?" he suddenly asked. the question didn't catch you by surprise, he often asked what were you up to.

"movie and food delivery." you almost immediately answered, and while you waited for a reply, you scrolled through netflix looking for something that would catch your eye.

after a few minutes, you checked your phone. nothing yet. in fact, he had left your message on read. that wasn't quite like him.

you frowned and before you could send another text, your doorbell rang. you sighed and got up, lazily walking to the door and expecting your friends behind it, ready to force you to go out with them.

your eyes widened when, instead, you saw the brit standing in front of you with messy, curly hair and a hoodie over his head despite of being the middle of summer. he had some snacks in his hands and he was smiling down at you.

you were speechless, not having expecting him just to show up at your door like that.

"what movie are we watching?" he asked with a bright smile, inviting himself inside.

click here for part 2 :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine

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illbegottenfaith · 1 month ago

Note

hey!! i loved ur handwritten fic with the notes it was absolutely amazing, do u think u could make a pt 2 of that or just another fic with that format? thank u!! <3

handwritten pt 2 - theo nott x reader

yours and theo's story as told through notes passed in class

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - thank you so much for this lovely!! it gave me the motivation I needed to clean up the dribs and drabs I had drafted out so here it is <3 I have plans/ideas for future chapters too (similar format but might not be restricted to just notes 👀) but I'm not sure how long of a series it'll actually end up being. enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a little more angst than the last chapter, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.9k

Saturday, 9.48 pm, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

You okay?

Yeah, why?

You’re awfully quiet. And you’ve been staring into your empty butterbeer for the past ten minutes, so either it was terrible or you’re plotting something.

Ha-ha.

You hate this, don’t you?

They’re just not the kind of people I hang out with.

Let’s get out of here.

Are you kidding? This party is for you, Theo.

Look at them. They’re drunk off their tits. No one’s going to mind.

No, stay. I might call it a night soon, though.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Don't worry about me, I’m just not used to hanging out with these kinds of people.

What kind?

I don’t know. Quidditch players. Hooligans. It’s not really my scene.

I didn’t know you felt that way.

I didn’t want to spoil your night.

Listen, it’s getting late. I should probably head back.

Okay. Get your coat, I'll settle the bill.

No, it’s fine, I can pay for my drink. Besides, you should stay.

At least let me walk you back.

Stay. I mean it.

Fine, but I’m paying for your drink. And before you say anything, it’s one lousy butterbeer. Consider it compensation for ruining your evening.

You didn’t ruin my evening. I liked the part when we walked here together. I don’t mind this too much either - scribbling on napkins.

Let me walk you back. Please.

Saturday, 10.19 pm, Ravenclaw Dormitories, Hogwarts

What's with the notebook?

Sorry, Ivan's finally passed out and I don't want to wake him. He hasn't been able to sleep all week, can you imagine? It's that stupid Herbology project - y'know, the one that Katie's been simmering those mandrakes for - I swear, he's so tense in the shoulders. I finally got him to nod off after dinner and it just seems cruel to wake him up and make him go allll the way down to his dorm :(

Fine, but Merlin help you when Katie wakes up and finds him still here. I still can't wrap my head around how much he lets you baby him. He's a Slytherin, for God's sake.

Please, he knew what he was getting himself into. If anything, I think the babying might have been a motivating factor. Anyway, how was the party?

Okay, I think. I kissed him. On the cheek.

YOU'RE going to wake Ivan. Have some goddamn self-control.

OH I KNEW ITTT I knew it the moment he walked into Charms class and you looked up and your eyes met and you lost your tongue and when you looked back he had that shy sort of smile I just KNEW he was going to be so good for you. Because he is, Y/N. He might be the best thing that's happened to you.

Gosh, relax. It's not like it meant anything. What's a little friendly peck between friends here and there? I just did it so he wouldn't follow me back to the castle like a lost puppy. Besides, he's not that perfect.

A real human being with real human flaws? You don't say.

It's hard to explain. He's only being this nice because he knows what he's done.

What has he done?

Some pretty hard-to-forgive stuff. I don't want to get into it right now.

Have you?

Have I what?

Forgiven him.

I don't know. I mean, I see him trying to reach out, but every time, even now, with the party - something stops me from...fully connecting. Something holds me back.

I don't think I have.

Monday, 9.13 am, Charms

Did you get back alright?

Yup.

I wanted to come check, but the guys...

I told you they weren't going to let their guest of honour run off. So how was the rest of the night?

Middling. They started up a game of strip poker when we got back.

Oh.

Allegedly, normal poker was too ordinary for a night as special as that.

You're kidding, right?

Oh my fucking god, you gamble??

Who said the poker had anything to do with gambling?

So you don’t gamble?

I didn’t say that.

Theo.

OUCH enough with the pinching! I've already had ten years too many of it.

I can't help that it's the only way to get you to behave.

I don’t see what the problem is. It’s my money to use as I see fit. Plus, I'm very careful about the people I play with. Merlin knows we have too much anyway.

Unbelievable. Gambling, really? Why not just drop out of Hogwarts and live slot machine to slot machine, huh? Why don't you just set up shop at some casino in Las Vegas?

I'm very confused. Do you want to go to Vegas?

You have the attention span of a fruit fly.

Because that's not a half-bad idea. We could make a whole trip out of it over the summer.

Your friends need to introduce you to more legal forms of recreation. What are you doing Wednesday night?

Nothing yet.

Good. I'm teaching you Exploding Snap.

Isn't that a kid's game?

FUCK I'm SORRY but DO NOT pinch me in the same place twice.

Oh, quit whining. You'll live.

Barely. If you keep this up, I'm going to start sitting far far away from you and those PINCERS you call fingers.

Wednesday, 1.02 pm, Potions

I ran into Katie on the way here and Merlin, she was in hysterics. I'm out of the room for one night and I miss you making out with Loverboy in our dorm??? Geez, at least put a sock on the door.

We were not making out!!! Katie just walked in at an unfortunate time.

Uh-huh.

Look, he was the one who showed up at the window on his broom, drunk out of his mind.

Drunk??

I know! What was he thinking, risking his neck all the way up there at the Ravenclaw dorms?? It was like he didn't even notice too. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but then I opened the window and nope, that was him, and then I screamed and he nearly fell off his broom so I hauled him inside. He practically faceplanted on the floor. I was terrified - I thought he was poisoned or something, but then I tried to prop him up and he had this dopey look on his face and he reeked of firewhiskey. Ugh, it was so annoying. I don’t want to talk about it.

You know what he said to me? After all that?

I thought you didn’t want to talk about this?

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh?

Uh-oh. Like a goddamn Looney Tunes character.

Looney Tunes?

Never mind. He was all ‘uh-oh, you’re mad at me’ while I was trying to get him to drink some coffee and I was like yeah, no shit, you look like you’re seconds away from puking all over my dorm. And then he started…he started talking about the party, and me leaving, and how sorry he was he brought me in the first place.

Aww.

I know, right? I felt like crap. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal to him.

Of course it was a big deal. That was him introducing you to his new friends.

Exactly, new friends. What does he want with me?

Y/N, are you daft? Do you not see the way he looks at you? He so clearly cares what you think about his friends.

What on earth are you talking about?

Ivan's on the team so they hang out together sometimes and he says Theo's a lot different around you. He doesn't swear as much, he drops his voice a little and he's extra attentive. Hell, he nearly got into a fight with some dunce in our year over the way that guy was talking about you. Y/N, he obviously cares about you so, so much. Please tell me you didn’t say anything too harsh.

I called the whole lot of them hooligans.

NOOOOO

But t's true!! Have you seen their matches? How they don't rip each other to shreds is beyond me. But I didn't mean that he was like that. Theo could never be like them. He'd play a good, fair, clean game.

Yeah. Sure.

What's that supposed to mean?

You haven't watched a single one of his practices, have you?

No. Should I?

Never mind. What happened next?

That's when things started going downhill. He started trying to remove his shirt because it was so hot from Katie’s blasted simmering pot of mandrakes. I was trying to stop him, only he wasn’t listening, and apparently he gets rather clingy and touchy when he’s, y’know, tipsy, and then…Katie walked in.

Damn.

Of course that's when he decides to sober up, so I look like an idiot while everyone in the room - yes! even him!!! - wants to know what I’m doing in his lap. He was sooooo polite too, as if he hadn’t just rudely breaking-and-entering’d his way into my room. ‘Oh, hello, Y/N. What a tastefully decorated room you have, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re sitting so close, Y/N?’ As if I want to be sitting in his lap!

Right.

Because I don’t.

Okay.

‘Cause that would be so weird.

Mhm.

Like…ew.

Okay, okay. I get it. I believe you.

He wouldn’t even let me get up or anything. Just kept talking to Katie about the weather with his hand on my thigh, casual as ever. I swear, if that teammate of his - what's his name, Mattheo? - hadn't come looking for him, I don't know how I would have gotten him down to his dorm.

What a thriller of a story, from start to finish.

Yeah, well, I could do it with a little less thrill in my life.

Aw, I think it was sweet. That disaster of a party was clearly eating at him.

Yeah. I mean, we're friends. It should bother him if I've had a shitty night, right? But also...we're just friends.

For the record, you're a different person around him too.

Psh. Yeah right.

Different how?

Ivyyyy

Thursday, 3.07 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

How’s your hand?

Doing very badly, thank you very much.

I have to say, I didn’t take you to be this sore of a loser.

My fingertips have been singed off. Forgive me if I seem a little sulky.

Aww. Was the kid's game a little too hard for the big, manly, Quidditch player?

You tricked me. You didn't even tell me all of the rules before we started playing.

Oh, come on. You knew enough to play.

But not to win!

Yes, well, I wasn't about to hand you a victory on a silver platter. I thought Slytherins were supposed to be clever, or something. Maybe you're the 'something.'

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We'll see who's laughing after next week's chess match.

Does it hurt a lot? Your fingers?

For a lesser man? Perhaps. I think I'm dealing with the pain quite well, actually.

So if we didn't have class, you'd be -?

Writhing on the floor of my dorm.

Ah, I see. Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?

Promises, promises.

But you still had fun, didn’t you?

It is quite the adrenaline rush.

I knew it.

Alas, my fingertips…

Oh, sod off. You always were the biggest drama queen.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #requests

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fiveht · 10 months ago

Text

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

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raayllum · 4 months ago

Text

Invert Life and Death Theory

Yesterday, the fandom received two season seven synopses that detail similar mysterious concepts:

The stakes have never been higher as Aaravos and Claudia are on the warpath, determined to destroy the Cosmic Order and invert life and death. With the world’s fate on the line, our heroes must be ready to sacrifice everything to save it.

As Aaravos and Claudia seek to destroy the Cosmic Order and invert life and death, our heroes must be literally ready to sacrifice anything and everything love and believe in to save the world!

I will touch on the 'sacrifice' portion likely here, and then further in another meta that was actually already sitting in my drafts about it (as we've known for a while that S7's main theme is sacrifice, even if I didn't expect it to be so blatantly spelled out in the summaries). But I digress.

Aaravos (and Claudia) want to destroy the Cosmic Order. They want to invert life and death, to turn it upside down (much like Aaravos' chest star I might imagine). Presumably this is to make the Cosmic Order mortal-mortal so that they can be permanently killed and Aaravos can have his proper revenge. He might also be working towards trying to reassemble Leola's spirit somehow.

But what is that attempted inversion going to look like? Well... It does contextualize the weird consistent emphasis his plans have had on the Moon and Sun specifically:

And we might finally know why:

Sun and Moon, Life and Death

In previous posts, I'd speculated there was more than just politics or revenge at stake in Aaravos seemingly killing Luna Tenebris and Queen Aditi 300 years ago. Of course the in-story explanation that's most obvious is that he wanted political instability, which I think is certainly true.

However, thus far there's not really a Reason in-text that it had to be those two. Why not another Earth dragon instead, or a Tidebound king? Throughout the series the elves that have gotten the most focus and worldbuilding have routinely been Moonshadow and Sunfire elves, and it didn't really have to be. And of course we could get into the weeds and say that Earth could've been associated with Life and Sun with death, etc etc. but the point stands that I think this series long focus on Moonshadow and Sunfire elves/philosophies in addition to Aditi and Luna Tenebris' deaths/disappearances makes a lot of sense if Sun = Life and Moon = Death, and these are the things that Aaravos wishes to invert upside down.

The fact that this reflective relationship between Sun and Moon possibly ties into Aaravos being in a mirror, characters having shadow selves running around in the narrative, and the emphasis on mirrored images in the dark magic dreams we see also makes sense.

Aaravos already toppled the Sun Forge and thereby Sun Primal on his way through to the Storm Spire. Going back to the Moon Nexus in S6 was a welcome callback to Through the Moon, but the Moon Nexus specifically having a portal between life and death... reminding us of that location because it's going to play a much bigger role next season (potentially like other characters, like Aanya) could be on the table. In taking Lux Aurea, Aaravos got the corrupted Sun staff after all.

Speaking of which, let's talk about

Rayla and Claudia

I don't think I have to explain why or routinely how Rayla is associated with the Moon as a Moonshadow elf. Secretive yet open, caught between love and duty, life and death, truth and lies, light and dark, Rayla embodies all this and more. Callum has also asked for her to be his Death if push comes to shove and he's possessed again, but she's also what has saved him in S6 from said threat of possession (and likely will again). This isn't to say that Aaravos needs a Moon arcanum and is going to take Rayla's (though I suppose he could), I think the likelier outcome is corrupting the Moon Nexus (and hence why you animate/rig Lujanne, Allen, and a new Phoe-Phoe design under your software at all). But it does mean I think Rayla will be a mirror to Claudia / whatever is happening with the Moon Nexus as a way to manipulate Callum, per usual.

Conversely, Claudia has wielded the corrupted Sun staff — a literally corrupted light that represents dark magic to her outright in S6, and one that she uses as a literal and metaphorical crutch — since season three, only occasionally using her father's staff with Viren only using the Sun staff for the Hearts of Cinder spell. She's a sun that's already been eclipsed by Aaravos, by death, in more ways than one. Someone who's walked a continually bloodier, darker path the further the show has gone on.

If and when Claudia gives up dark magic, she'll be 'restored' as the Sun — uncorrupted, bolstered by the truth ("Careful, if you tell the truth you will lose her"), shining brightly again. In the meantime, though, if Claudia is brought home in parallel with Callum being saved from dark magic corruption in S6, I think someone else will be Claudia's 'sun'. So let's talk about it.

Trials and Tests of Love

While we might see more — I could see Karim getting a trial on a technicality in S7 — as it stands now we see three former trials in the series. The first is in S4 among the Sunfire elves with Lucia, who ruined a sacred ritual by putting out a light, and is declared not innocent but worthy of life over death. Then we see Leola, who despite being truly innocent is condemned to death by the Star/First Elves and is made into nothing more than a light star known as Leola's Last Wish. Finally, we're going to seemingly have Rayla, whose actions did lead to the death of her troupe of Moonshadow assassins in the Silvergrove.

Just like with starlight vs moonlight vs sunlight with the Celestial elves, and Astrid + star magic creatures like Sir Sparklepuff in particular....

AARAVOS: Otherwise the sun will rise, and you will not.

We see this pattern of sun, star, and moon again with the trials alongside ideas of mercy, innocence, and concepts of paying the price.

Meanwhile, in season six, both Claudia and Callum were searching for their deep truths. Their path. Callum found his in Rayla and accepted it wholeheartedly. Claudia thought she'd find hers in Viren ("I'll look at him and I'll know / I need him to show me the right path"), but found only his body and the prison he left behind. Of course, the main reason that Viren died in season six was that he wanted to save Katolis, and more than that, he wanted to save his son.

She said that this was my home, and that my brother and I needed each other.

If Claudia is an eclipsed sun, a form of life turned death, than Soren is the uncorrupted version of the sun, ready and willing to guide her back if she'll just give him the chance. And in going back to Katolis, in sparing/saving Soren, Viren did help give Claudia what she needed in order to find her true path some day, too: a life with her brother and Terry at her side.

Claudia's first real test of love in the series was whether to choose the egg — the world, her father's wishes — over the safety and wellbeing of her family — her brother. She made the right choice.

I'm here.

It'd make sense if one of her final tests of love was a similar trial — maybe even if Callum under possession/Aaravos' control hurts Soren ("Oh I've been stabbed by the stab-prince!") — and Claudia once again chooses her brother over everything, just as he chooses for and fights for her. She ultimately chooses life over death, reflecting the massive change in herself and her character arc.

Likewise, Rayla being a Moonshadow elf saved from death ("I leapt to my certain death, but you spread your wings and you saved me" / "Finnegrin was going to kill you, I didn't have a choice") from Callum means breaking his promise, yes.

However, it also frees her up from needing to be an assassin and therefore from needing to behave like she's "already dead" or that Callum is. The possession/corruption would be a fate worse than death / metaphorical to literal death and rather than delivering either, Rayla would save him in turn. Like Claudia, she chooses life over death, symbolizing the same turning point. Callum, meanwhile, could get the Moon arcanum by realizing he has dark and light inside him; this may not mean a total blank slate (idk if they'd repeat that) from corruption, but a way to permanently throw off Aaravos' control of him regardless.

Life, over death.

Life and death working in harmony under principles of justice, mercy, and compassion.

Conclusion

This is more of rambling "notes on top of all this" place than a proper conclusion, but just a summary of stuff / some speculation for later:

Aaravos needed Moon and Sun stuff specifically from Luna Tenebris and Queen Aditi and that's why he killed them

Aaravos is going to successfully make the Cosmic Council mortal, even if that means making himself mortal.

This makes him more powerful than the Council and they may have reason to ally with our main team in order to take down Aaravos and/or be destroyed themselves

Rayla as Moon and Claudia as Sun reflect both life and death, but each will likely choose life over death; for Rayla this is about a certainty, for Claudia it's more up in the air if she'll have her redemption arc yet (I could see it getting pushed further to arc 3).

I think it'd be really nice if the inversion of life and death had broad implications meant some characters got to say goodbye, like Callum and Ez having a moment with Harrow and/or Sarai

And I think that's about it! What do you think inverting life and death may mean?

#tdp #the dragon prince #aaravos #tdp meta #analysis series #tdp theory #tdp spoilers #s7 spoilers #s7 speculation #predictions #raydia

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daydreamtofiction · 3 months ago

Text

The Feature XXI // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) While on assignment at another glamorous event, Quinn takes the opportunity to have some fun. Though it doesn't quite go the way she'd hoped.

Chapter Word Count: 8K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes, tones of jealousy and possessiveness, fake event, op-ed excerpts contain graphic imagery. Quinn back at it again with her nightmarish antics. Readers must be 18+

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Julia would bounce her knee when she sat at her desk; one leg crossed over the other, the heel of her Louboutin slingback clinking against the table leg with an irritating rhythm. You were sitting across from her as she read your final draft, your gaze focused on the blood red sole of her shoe, the remnants of the discount sticker she hadn’t fully peeled off.

She placed the papers on the desk and cleared her throat. You looked up at her, only then realising you’d been making a face; eyes narrowed, lip curled disdainfully. It wasn’t intentional, your face just settled that way sometimes. So you softened your edges, rounding your eyes and relaxing your jaw as you waited for her to speak.

“Quinn…” she sighed.

Your thorns quickly returned; lids turning heavy with indignation as you rolled your shoulders and pressed your back into the chair.

“You know what I’m going to say,” she continued with a patronising smile. “It’s well written, there’s no denying that, but it’s not going in the mag.”

“Why not?” you asked bluntly.

She picked up the papers and licked her thumb, using it to flick to the second page where she began to read aloud. “I just wanted those men to stop looking at me. I wanted to erase myself, piece by piece, I imagined my face sloughing away, then my arms, my breasts, until there was nothing left but a pool of flesh and marrow where I’d once stood. But then, I thought, would they even care? Or would they still find pleasure in my remains; dig their hands into the slurry and let it slip between their fingers. And that scared me more than disappearing altogether...”

You blinked at her, waiting for her to explain the problem. But the way she was looking at you made it seem like you should have already known.

“It’s quite graphic,” she said.

“It’s a metaphor.”

“Yes, obviously I understand that. But it’s not the most pleasant of visuals, is it? Really, the topic of the op ed on a whole, it’s- It’s dark, heavy-”

“It’s about gender, sex, inequality, how I’ve learned to navigate society as a woman, it’s not meant to be all bubblegum and rainbows. And it’s not like the magazine hasn’t shed light on these kinds of topics before.” You shrugged.

“Yes but not this… Brutally.”

You furrowed your brow.

She sighed, flicking to another page. “I thought sex was supposed to make me human, make me whole. But in the end, he was just a prop, an object. They all were. I could always tell they wanted me to love them, and they thought I might if they gave me everything. But nothing ever seemed worth taking.” She looked at me. “You can’t seriously think Draft would publish this?”

“It’s an op ed,” you said, your tone growing snippy. “It’s supposed to be personal, subjective, opinionated-”

“But there’s a fine line, Quinn, between sharing your views and experiences on important topics and oversharing to the point where it becomes disturbing and completely indigestible for readers.”

“Disturbing?” You breathed out a laugh. “So this, a woman’s real, lived experience of men and sexuality and emotional connection is ‘disturbing’, but the piece we let that dick head comedian write back in August where he said Hitler ‘wasn’t such a bad guy’ was okay?”

“It was a joke he made in poor taste and a retraction was published almost immediately.”

“Still made it to print though.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. “Look, I’m not saying this isn’t a good piece of writing. Because it is. I know you’ve been working on it for months and it shows. It’s important and it’s relevant, I get that. But we have to give readers balance; some escapism, y’know. And that’s the job of our staff writers, to uplift the magazine with stories about celebrities and fashion and lifestyle and-” She sighed. “We have the hard hitting stuff covered. What we need from you is-”

“Fluff.” You inhaled sharply through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest. “I just thought after the Benedict Cumberbatch interview and how well it was received I might finally get to write something with more… substance.”

She let out a single, clipped laugh, shaking her head at you condescendingly. “Quinn, one feature on a big name celeb doesn’t fast track you to serious journalism. You wrote about his films, his love life, what he does in his spare time. It wasn’t exactly an exposé.”

You bit back a retort, crossing one leg over the other and glancing out at the office through the glass wall. “What did Ellen Ford say about it? The op ed.”

“I haven’t shown her. And I’m not going to.”

“Julia-”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore, Quinn. I was given this position permanently because I know what I’m doing. Ellen trusts my judgement and my judgement is that this piece is a no go. If you want to write something for the next issue then you can cover the London Arts and Culture Gala tonight. Kate was supposed to be going but she just called to say she’s sick.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers into your eyes. “Why do you keep sending me to fucking galas?”

She tutted sarcastically, pushing out her bottom lip. “Getting dressed up to have free food and drink while rubbing shoulders with celebrities all night, how evil of me.”

You glared at her.

“I hear Benedict Cumberbatch is on the guest list,” she said, a slight snarkiness in her tone. “Maybe you can cosy up to him, get yourself a follow up interview. Not exactly Pullitzer material but hey, it’s another step towards those doors you’re so desperate to open.”

You already knew Ben was going to be there. You wanted to tell her that you knew; that he’d told you about it as you lay together in bed last night - still not having sex, to your utter dismay - and that you’d scoffed when he asked if you were covering it for the magazine. You wanted to punch her for suggesting you cosy up to him, as though he was nothing more than a rung in the ladder of your career.

“The last editorial assistant that suggested I get ‘cosy’ for a story ended up escorted out of here by security,” you said with a cold, flat smile.

She held your gaze, her foot bouncing more quickly now. “I know you like to think the world’s against you, Quinn. But I actually think you’re a good journalist. Hence why I keep sending you to fucking galas…”

You paused a moment before finally giving in and standing up with a huff. “Can I get another dress?”

“I’m sure you have something at the back of your wardrobe you could wear.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and snatching your papers off the desk before turning to leave her office.

The back of your wardrobe had provided you two options: the first was a short, bright chartreuse dress with a boned bodice and sparkly straps. It was awful. So awful that you grimaced when you pulled it out, wondering what kind of fugue state you’d been in when you bought it. But then you noticed the tag was still attached, realising you must have come to your senses and decided to never let it touch your body or see the light of day again.

The second option was plain, black, high neck and sleeveless. It hugged your figure like a second skin, skimming just above your ankles as you stood on your tiptoes in front of the mirror. You wondered why you’d never worn it before. Then you remembered you’d bought it for a funeral, only to get it home and realise your dead uncle’s family probably wouldn’t appreciate being able to see the outline of your arse at his wake.

You put your hair up and did your makeup, feeling pangs of excitement in your stomach at the thought of seeing Ben’s face when you arrived. You hadn’t told him you were coming, much preferring the idea of him spotting you from across a crowded room, having to hide his surprise and keep his cool, to pretend he barely remembered your name. You slipped into a pair of heels, stuffing your ticket and press pass into your bag alongside a notepad and pen, your fully charged phone and the perfume he always complimented.

When you arrived at the Claridge’s hotel, you stepped out of the cab to a mob of flashing cameras lining the carpeted entrance. There was something humbling about being unimportant, being able to weave through a sea of celebrities and influential figures like a ghost as paparazzi screamed for them to stop and pose for photos. It was comforting, almost, to be overlooked.

You made your way inside, the grand hall warmly lit with ornate chandeliers, large round tables covered in pristine tablecloths and floral centrepieces. The room buzzed with the sound of clinking glasses and reserved conversation, servers weaving between guests with trays of champagne and dainty canapés. You took a glass from a waiter with the most dazzling smile you’d ever seen, unable to resist a glance at his backside as he walked away.

The press table was at the other end of the hall. You took a large swig of champagne and began the long walk, meandering through tables and crowds of famous faces you never got used to seeing in person. Olivia Colman was at a table to your left, close enough for you to reach out and touch her - and you thought about it, just for a moment - but you resisted.

You hadn’t been watching where you were going, an elbow almost knocking the drink from your hand as you walked right into it. You looked up to see an actor you recognised but couldn’t remember the name of, his surprise softening to a friendly laugh as he placed his hands on your arms to steady you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry,” you said. “I was distracted by Olivia Colman.”

“Ah, we’ve all been there,” he replied.

He was tall, smartly dressed, with a crooked smile and reddish hair. He’d been in a TV show you watched. Or was it a movie? God, what the hell was his name?

You gave an awkward laugh. “Sorry again.”

He waved his hand, as if telling you not to worry. You smiled appreciatively and turned to walk away, but his voice suddenly made you halt.

“Benedict! How’ve you been, man?”

You glanced back over your shoulder to see him pulling another tall, suited man into a hug, the pair smacking each other hard on the back in that weird way only men ever seemed to do. The corner of your mouth curled, threatening a smirk when you saw the side of Ben’s face.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to notice you. And when he did, it was as delicious as you’d imagined it would be. It began with a flicker of recognition, followed by the slow widening of realisation, his expression changing so subtly that only someone who knew him as well as you did would notice.

He composed himself quickly, giving the man he’d been hugging a final, firm pat on the back before stepping away with a slight smile. You kept your face neutral as you stood in his eyeline, as if seeing him was no big deal, as if you hadn’t spent the majority of your evening fantasising about this very moment; the way his eyes travelled down your body, his jaw clenching as he lingered on your curves. You brought the glass to your lips, taking a slow sip of champagne, never looking away from him as he tried to engage in polite conversation.

It didn’t take long for him to excuse himself, squeezing the man’s shoulder as he stepped around him and made his way towards you, his long strides closing the distance far too quickly. You’d wanted to make the moment last, to savour it, make him sweat a little while longer.

“Quinn,” he said, his voice low and warm as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Benedict,” you replied coolly, giving a slight nod.

He glanced around before returning his gaze to you. “You said you weren’t coming.”

You smiled, giving a casual shrug. “Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

He gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying it. Then his eyes flitted down again, taking you in once more. “You…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to your face, and for a second you thought he might lose his composure. “You look… Nice.”

“Nice?” you repeated, feigning offence.

His mouth twitched, his voice darkening. “Very nice.”

You could feel his restraint, the effort it was taking for him not to touch you, to close the distance between you.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “I take it you’re here for the magazine?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, taking another sip of champagne. “Mhm. Julia, the editorial assistant, completely shat all over my piece, decided I was more useful rubbing shoulders than writing anything of actual substance.”

His brows came together for a moment with a sympathetic smile. “Well clearly she’s an idiot.”

“Tell her that.”

He leaned in slightly. “I’ll tell her, if you want.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes again. “Yeah, that’ll go down well; getting the guy I’m fucking- sorry, not fucking, to pull strings for me at work.”

He smirked, dropping his head and fixing the cuff of his blazer. “Just say the word.”

“Stop it,” you laughed, holding back the urge to push him playfully in the chest.

“Well I suppose there’s worse assignments you could’ve ended up with.”

“Yeah.” You looked around at the glitzy hall, the man he’d been talking to finding his seat at a table. “Oh my god, what’s his name by the way? It’s been driving me mad.”

He looked over to where you’d pointed before turning back and opening his mouth to speak. But before he could, a sudden presence appeared at his side.

“Benedict, good to see you again!”

You recognised Leo McGrath immediately. He was a documentary filmmaker, award winner, known philanthropist. Yet it was his recent appearance at the Oscars that had shot him to sudden, unexpected internet fame. You wondered what it must feel like, to be so unbelievably attractive that just standing there on a red carpet could send the whole world into a frenzy. To have millions of people suddenly know you, not because of your work, but because they fancied you.

It was true, he was undeniably stunning; green eyes framed by masses of dark lashes, full lips and thick wavy hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. When he smiled, his cheeks dimpled, his imperfect teeth giving him a charm that made it hard not to swoon, even just for a second.

“Ah, Leo,” said Ben as he shook his hand. “It’s good to see you too. How’ve you been?”

“Good, yeah, it’s been… intense.” He breathed out a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I can imagine.”

“Well I suppose you don’t need to imagine, you’ve been there too. What did they call you? The Internet’s Boyfriend?”

Ben rolled his eyes, nodding with a laugh.

Leo’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes lighting up as if he hadn’t noticed you until now. “Sorry, I’m so rude!” he said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Oh, of course, sorry. Leo, this is Quinn Armitage. She’s a writer for Draft.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Quinn,” he said, looking you up and down, far less subtly than Ben had.

You shook his hand with a smile, catching a fleck of irritation on Ben’s face. “Likewise. And congratulations on your Oscar win.”

“Ah, thank you very much.” He took a step back, his eyes bouncing between the two of you. “So are you here together, or?”

“No,” Ben replied, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the speed of his response. “Quinn wrote a piece on me at the end of last year. We were just catching up.”

“Oh right.” He seemed pleased to learn you were there alone, his interest in you piquing, attention lingering on your face. “So you’re here for work then?”

You nodded, watching Ben’s jaw tighten from the corner of your eye, like he was grinding his teeth. You held back a grin; the sight of him ruffled was a rarity, and you couldn’t help but take some pleasure in it.

“Well you should join me at my table,” said Leo. “It’s near the front, a much better spot for you to get some good material.”

You glanced up at Ben, the slight flush in his cheeks, how hard he was having to work to stay calm. He was jealous. You liked it.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “That sounds good, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He gestured for you to follow him, and you did, meeting Ben’s gaze as you stepped aside and began to walk away. You couldn’t hold back the smirk as you watched his eyes darken, a silent warning etched on his stony, unamused face.

You followed Leo to his table, the weight of Ben’s eyes heavy on the back of your neck. You couldn’t help but feel excited, perhaps even satisfied; Leo’s sudden interest in you was undeniably flattering, and Ben’s barely contained jealousy made it all the more enjoyable.

He pulled out a chair for you and you thanked him as you sat down. The view was indeed better from here; the stage only feet away, every guest visible with the turn of your head. He took a seat beside you, getting comfortable as he chatted casually to the other people around the table.

Then he turned to you, snatching you out of a daze.

“So is this what you do for Draft then?” he asked. “Report on parties and events and stuff?”

“Well I’m a staff writer, so I pretty much just do what I’m told,” you said, your voice laced with cynicism.

He smiled. “I sense some… unrest.”

“You could say that.” You drank down the dregs of your champagne, twirling the stem of the flute between your fingers.

He leaned back in his chair, cocking his head as he looked at you with narrowed eyes, an amused smirk creating a deep dimple in his cheek. “Let me guess, you’re trying to work your way into serious journalism, but all they’re giving you is celebrity gossip and… listicles.”

You pressed your lips together, exhaling a laugh through your nose. “I wrote this piece - it’s my best work to date - put it forward for an op ed but they weren’t interested. Sent me here instead.”

“Y’know, this industry is… brutal. You fight to be heard, to have your work taken seriously, amplified, given the platform you know it deserves. Then you finally get recognised for that work after years and years of graft, and yet somehow it still ends up overshadowed by how fuckable women on the internet think you are.”

“You are quite fuckable though, to be fair,” you replied bluntly.

He dropped his head to disguise a laugh, before composing himself again, lifting his head to meet your gaze. He stretched his arm along the back of your chair to lean in closer, speaking quietly. “What I’m saying is that no one in this industry gets anything without going over heads and stepping on toes. It’s a fight. And even when you get to the top, you have to claw at it if you want to stay there. It’s like… the Hunger Games but for losers who watched the news too much as kids.”

You gave a slight smile, allowing a quick glance over your shoulder to Ben’s table where he sat fidgeting with his hands, watching you beneath a heavy brow. You looked down at Leo’s arm draped behind you, your smile quickly turning into a smirk.

You leaned in closer to Leo, mirroring the intensity of his gaze. “So you’re saying the only way I’m going to transition to serious journalism is if I… play dirty?”

“Exactly,” he replied in a low, husky voice.

“How do you suggest I do that?”

He thought for a moment, running his tongue across his top teeth. “When I first started making docs, I got turned down by every production company, every channel and network. No one would give me a penny, wouldn’t even agree to broadcast. So I said fuck it, went out there with my camera, whatever money I had in my account and I made them anyway. Then when these companies saw that people actually gave a shit about the things I was documenting, they came running to me.”

“So you’re saying I just go rogue?”

“Potentially.”

“Hm. There’s just one problem with that; there’s this thing called rent, and erm… needing to eat…” you said sarcastically.

He laughed. “I’m not saying you go and quit Draft and start a fucking blog or something. I’m saying… check out. Quietly quit, as they say. Attend the fancy events, write the fluffy articles, do whatever you need to do to keep your affiliation with the magazine and use it to your advantage.” He reached up and took your chin between his finger and thumb, turning your head towards the sea of tables behind you. “See all of these people? Actors, producers, investors. You have direct access to them all right now. You could charm and persuade and get numbers in your phone and your name on people’s radars. And all you have to do in exchange is write a silly little article about their clothes and how they spend their evening.”

You turned your head back to him slowly; his insight like an epiphany, turning the banality of your surroundings to an abundance of possibility. Ten minutes ago this man was a stranger, yet now here he was with his face inches from yours, giving you the best advice you’d ever heard.

“Let me interview you,” you said.

He leaned back, brow furrowed in curiosity.

“What? I’ve made a connection and I’m using it to my advantage.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Fair play. Though, an interview… with Draft…” He scrunched his nose with scepticism.

“I won’t write anything about your looks. Won’t ask a single question about anything other than your work.”

“It’s tempting,” he replied with a hum.

The lights of the hall dimmed as a single, bright spotlight illuminated the stage. A woman stepped up to the microphone holding a stack of cue cards and clearing her throat. Leo turned away from you to listen, and you felt your chest heave with a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. He was intense. Beguiling, even.

“Welcome everybody,” said the woman, her voice creating a screech of feedback through the speaker. She took a step away from the mic with an embarrassed laugh. “Thank you so much for coming…”

Your phone buzzed inside the clutch bag on your lap as the woman continued to speak. You dug it out and opened the message waiting on the screen.

I know what you’re doing.

You subtly turned your head, giving Ben a mischievous wink from across the dark hall.

What am I doing? you replied.

Flirting. Stop it. Now.

Your stomach fluttered as you pictured the tension in his fingers as he typed each word, the firmness of his jaw as he grit his teeth.

Flirting???

Quinn. I’m serious.

Not my fault he fancies me. I’m actually quite enjoying the attention.

As if on cue, Leo turned his attention back to you, leaning in to speak directly into your ear. “What’s so interesting on your phone?” His breath was warm against your skin, his hushed tone filled with playful curiosity.

You looked over at Ben again, smiling as you put the phone face down on the table, turning your attention back to Leo. “Nothing.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I was losing your attention so soon.”

The woman on stage continued her speech, her words fading to a muffled hum as you lost yourself in the game you couldn’t resist playing.

“You haven’t lost my attention,” you said, keeping your voice low. “I still want that interview.”

He chuckled. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He leaned in again, his lips almost brushing your ear. “But I don’t think a formal interview is what you really want from me…”

Your heart began to race, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the hunger in his eyes. If this had been a year earlier, you were sure you’d have ended up in Leo’s bed by the end of the night. But instead, you found yourself more thrilled by the idea of Ben watching you; the power you wielded to make his blood boil from across a crowded room.

“What else could I possibly want?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly towards Leo, your lips nearly grazing his cheek.

He let out a low, throaty laugh, his hand sliding from the back of your chair to your thigh. You wondered how far you could take things before your actions became indefensible, before the flirting verged beyond a game and evolved into something less playful.

“I have a feeling there’s a lot of things you want.” His touch was soft yet bold, his fingers tracing swirls that tickled, even through the material of your dress. “Some I might be able to… help you with.”

You bit your lip, unable to hold back a smirk, before leaning in close. “And here I was, thinking you invited me to sit at your table because you wanted to do a good deed for a struggling journalist.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “Turns out you just wanted to fuck me.”

He turned his head to look at you, his face so close you could feel his breath. “Can I not want both?”

“You can,” you replied simply. “Doesn’t mean you’re going to get it though.”

The room erupted with applause, quelling the tension between you as you turned your attention to the stage. A young woman made her way to the microphone with a guitar in hand. She smiled shyly as she waited for the clapping to fade, before pressing her fingers to the strings and beginning to play.

Your palms were beginning to itch; every speech and performance receiving a lengthier round of applause than the last. You had no choice but to join in with it, no matter how boring or mediocre you thought it was, putting down your little notebook and pen with a quiet groan to bring your hands together in feigned appreciation.

You’d been nursing your second glass of champagne for most of the evening, knowing it was your last and taking small sips to savour it. Julia warned you not to get drunk, and you’d taken offence to the insinuation that you couldn’t be trusted to stay professional. But when you realised Leo’s arm was still draped along the back of your chair, you thought perhaps she’d had a point.

The last wave of applause rippled across the room as the host made her way offstage; the spotlight dimming, chandeliers regaining their warm glow as the atmosphere began to relax, the hum of conversation drifting through the air like a sigh of relief. You skimmed over the pages in your book, trying to decipher the chaotic notes you’d scrawled in the dark when Leo turned to look at you.

“Get everything you need?” he asked, nodding to your notebook.

“Eh, I’ll probably have to employ some creative writing here and there,” you replied as you looked up at him.

He smirked. “You weren’t paying attention to any of it, were you.”

“More than I would have if I were back there at the press table.”

“Well it’s a good job I had a spare seat.”

“Mm.” You allowed your gaze to flit from his eyes to his lips and back again, just enough to keep him interested. “I better do a few rounds, get some quotes from people before they start to leave.”

Mingling had never been your thing, the idea of approaching strangers or interrupting conversations creating a pit of dread in your stomach that made your skin clammy and your mouth dry. Usually you came with someone else; dragged Nick along or found yourself on assignment with another writer who would do most of the talking. This time, you had no choice. .

You moved around the hall, weaving through a maze of tables as you searched for targets. And with each interaction, it became easier. You took quotes from a table of theatre directors, had surreal conversations with celebrities, and when you finally plucked up the courage to speak to Olivia Colman, the only thing you managed to write down was ‘aaahhhh’.

You took a moment to breathe, scanning the room to see Ben still at his table, deep in conversation with another actor you vaguely recognised. You watched him for a moment, noticing how his usually easy smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, how he kept brushing the tips of his fingers over his bottom lip. To anyone else, he seemed happy, comfortable. But to you, it was clear he wasn’t nearly as composed as he appeared.

You made your way over, navigating the scattered chairs and waiters topping up champagne until you were close enough to hear their voices.

“...and everyone I’ve spoken to about it has said I should do it,” the other man was saying. “But it’s just such a big commitment.”

Ben nodded, his eyes flickering in your direction for just a moment. “It is a lot. But you’ve just got to weigh up the pros and cons…”

He trailed off as you finally made it to their table, turning his attention to you as though he hadn’t known you were coming.

“Sorry for interrupting,” you said as you cleared your throat and held up your notebook. “My name’s Quinn, I’m a writer for Draft Magazine. I was hoping I could steal you for a second to ask a few questions?”

His eyes stayed on you for a moment before returning to the actor beside him. “Sorry.”

“Ah no worries, duty calls.”

“But if you want my honest opinion, I think you should go for it.”

The man smiled appreciatively as he rose to his feet, raising his glass in a mock salute before walking away.

You quickly sat in his place; the seat was still warm, turned towards Ben at an awkward angle. You shifted it further to face him, leaning back with the notebook in your lap.

“Hi,” you finally said, holding back a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, his face calm, tone unreadable.

“So, the question I have for you is…” you flicked to another page. “Do you have any thoughts on how we as a society, and as individuals, can foster the arts in ways that don’t involve funding or monetary-”

“What the fuck was that?” he interrupted quietly, gesturing subtly towards Leo’s table across the hall.

“What was what?” you replied casually, defiantly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he mirrored your posture, leaning back in his chair and lowering his chin slightly, his eyes darkening beneath the shadow of his brow. “His hands were all over you…”

“So?”

“So you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Your stomach fluttered with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You cocked your head, widening your eyes to feign innocence. “What was I doing?”

“Trying to piss me off.”

You pushed out your bottom lip. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous-?” He exhaled a laugh through his nose. But there was no amusement in it. Then he lowered his voice. “I was jealous when I saw him eyeing you up. I was jealous when he invited you to sit at his table. But now? I’m not jealous, I’m furious.”

You regarded him for a moment, taking undeniable pleasure in his silent rage. But when you finally opened your mouth to speak, a hand on your shoulder made you still.

You looked up to see Leo standing at your side, glancing down at both of you with a charming smile.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said. “Quinn, my team and I are heading to an afterparty at the Edition. I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

“Oh, I…” you looked at Ben, then back up to Leo. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m still working.”

“Your boss doesn’t have to know…”

You breathed out a laugh. “No really, I think I’m going to be good for once and actually do my job.”

“Or you could come with me to the afterparty and start being good tomorrow…”

“She said no,” Ben interjected firmly.

It caught you off guard, raising the hairs on your arms and sending a shiver down your spine. It was his unexpected harshness paired with a friendly smile, the restraint it was clearly taking him to keep his cool.

Leo seemed taken aback too, turning to him with raised brows and parted lips, like he wanted to speak but had no idea what to say. He eventually gave up with an understanding nod, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.

“Give me a call some time,” he said as he handed it to you. “If you want, of course.”

You took it with a smile, waiting for him to walk away before turning your attention back to Ben.

“That was rude of you,” you said.

“Sorry… Rude of me?”

You rolled your eyes and slid the card between the pages of your notebook.

“Are you really keeping that?” Ben asked.

“He’s a documentary maker, I’m a journalist. It might come in handy.”

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he continued to glare at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, you weren’t joking when you said you were furious…”

“No. I wasn’t. I told you the mind games and manipulation wouldn’t fly with me. I told you that.”

“You are taking this way too seriously.”

He leaned forward suddenly, his movement sharp, teeth clenched. “Too-” But he stopped himself, pressing his lips together and looking around the bustling hall as he slowly reclined again. “We’re leaving.”

You furrowed your brow as you watched him stand up. “Did you not hear what I just said? I’m working, I can’t leave yet.”

“I said we’re going.”

You hadn’t seen him like this since the first night you met. You’d almost forgotten he was capable of it; the hard angles and stern tone, the dominance of his demand sending a flutter through your core. The thrill of it was undeniable, but his anger was palpable, making you stutter as you tried to speak.

“Ben, I’m- I’m not-”

“Now.”

You yielded with a sigh, shoving everything into your bag and tucking it under your arm as you rose to your feet. Your heart was pounding as you began to follow him, almost tripping over the leg of your chair as you went. He didn’t speak as he made his way to the exit of the hall, his fist opening and closing at his side in a steady rhythm, face brightening with a polite smile whenever someone greeted him as he passed.

He gripped your wrist as you neared the exit, leading you out into the large, echoing foyer. The indelicacy of his touch surprised you, flooding you with a fleeting rush of panic, like a child preparing to be scolded once their parents got them home.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, your quick, uneven footsteps struggling to keep up with his long strides as he walked you towards a quiet, hidden corner.

“Don’t you need to tell people you’re leaving?” you asked. “Like your publicist or whoever you came with?”

“I came alone,” he replied, stopping once you were out of sight.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I drove here.” He glanced over his shoulder, assessing the paparazzi as they waited outside. “You’re going to go and wait for me by the car. I’ll follow in a couple of minutes.”

You did as you were told, emerging into the mild spring night and slipping through the chaos with ease. When you got to Ben’s car, you waited with your arms folded over your chest, watching from a distance as an explosion of camera flashes illuminated the darkness like fireworks.

You pressed your lips into a straight lined smile when he finally reached you, hurrying around to the driver’s side without a word. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glancing around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. You raised onto your tiptoes to look at him over the top of the car, breathing out a laugh when he almost scowled back.

“Are you seriously still annoyed with me?” you asked.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “I can barely look at you right now.”

He slipped into the car and pulled the door closed. You paused for a moment before deciding to climb into the back seat instead.

He looked at you in the rearview mirror, brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You said you didn’t want to look at me,” you replied brattishly. “You don’t have to if I’m back here.”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath. “Get in the front.”

You thought about defying his demand, but you quickly gave in; choosing to clamber arduously over the centre console instead of getting out, purely to annoy him that little bit more. You settled into the front passenger seat, turning to look at him as you dragged the seatbelt across your chest.

He drove in silence at first, the journey ebbing and flowing between heavy traffic and dark, deserted streets. You’d been waiting for him to speak, but with each silent wait at a red light, you found yourself growing impatient. He turned his head towards you, and you glanced back at him hopefully, only to realise he was looking past you, checking the road was clear before driving across it.

You huffed. “Fine, you win, I apologise for flirting with the sexy man, alright? Can you stop acting like I slapped your mum now?”

“You really don’t get why I’m pissed off, do you.”

“He was just giving me career advice-”

“Career advice? What career advice requires him to touch you like that? To whisper in your ear, run his hand up your thigh?”

You couldn’t resist; the old Quinn taking over with a shrug and a surly glare. “I was just having a bit of fun-”

A deep growl rumbled in his throat, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Nothing about that was fun.”

“Maybe not for you…”

“Quinn. I swear to god.”

You threw your head back and let out a groan. “It was flirting, Ben. He clearly fancied me and I took the opportunity to tease you, wind you up-”

“Oh yeah, and I’m sure you got no pleasure out of it whatsoever,” he quipped cynically.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” you said sarcastically. “Y’know, it’s almost like I haven’t gone the past four months without sex because the man I’m seeing refuses to touch me anywhere below the fucking neck. I mean, Jesus, I’ve been masturbating so much I could give a teenage boy a run for his money; forgive me for indulging in a bit of physical affection for one night.”

“So you did like him then...”

“No, Ben-” You stopped yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out an exasperated breath. But when you composed yourself again, your brows came together in sudden realisation. “Actually, what if I did?”

He took his eyes off the road for a second, glancing at you in confusion.

“What right would you have to tell me I couldn’t flirt with him? Couldn’t let him touch me?” You sat up straighter, turning your body towards him. “What if I wanted him to do that? What if I enjoyed sitting with him and decided I wanted to go to that afterparty? What authority would you have to tell me I couldn’t?”

He rolled his eyes.

“What if I went with him? Danced, drank, let him take me home, undress me, kiss me…”

Your words were getting to him; crawling under his skin, making him roll his shoulders like he was trying to shrug the image away.

“I mean, you said it yourself to whatshisface back at the gala; I’m just Quinn, the journalist you met once back in November. Why would you care who else I fuck?”

He turned the wheel sharply, pulling the car into a layby with a sudden stop. It was dark, void of streetlights, thick trees lining both sides of the road. You jerked forward as he broke, the seatbelt pressing firmly against your chest.

“Jesus Christ, Ben.”

He shut off the engine and turned in his seat to face you. “You know full well that neither of us want people to know about this. You don’t get to use it against me to justify flirting with someone else.”

“I flirted with him to annoy you. Clearly it worked… A bit too well.”

“But why? Why would you think I’d find that amusing?” His voice was raised, his hands moving in time with his words.

“I didn’t. I thought I’d find it amusing.”

He growled, letting out a hot angry breath through his nose. “You are the most infuriating fucking person.”

“Then why have you stuck around for this long?”

“Why have you? If taking it slow and doing things right has been such a fucking chore for you then why are you still bothering?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he didn’t give you the chance, unclipping his seatbelt to lean in closer.

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because you know I’m the only man who’s ever been able to handle you. Who sees you for who you really are and likes it.”

Your heart began to race, your back pressing against the passenger door. He was right, and you hated it.

“Because even though I haven’t touched you in four months, you still aren’t bored of me.” His voice was dangerously soft now, his eyes fixed on yours. “Because even as another man threw himself at you tonight, you still found yourself looking for me.”

“So if that’s what you think, why do you care that I let him touch me?” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Because I don’t like watching someone else touch what’s mine.”

You swallowed hard, your defiance faltering as his words sank in. He was so close now, one arm outstretched along the back of your seat, the other holding back the urge to reach out and touch you.

Your eyes flitted from his face to his crotch then back again. “You want to fuck me right now, don’t you…”

His gaze flickered with something dark, primal. He exhaled slowly, the angles of his face sharp with anger, partly with you, but mostly with himself.

A rush of excitement flooded through you as he reached out to cup your face, pulling you into a sudden, intense kiss. You could feel his possessiveness; the way his lips moved with a firm pressure, tongue sweeping impatiently into your mouth.

You fumbled for your seatbelt, unfastening it quickly and letting it snap back against the door, your hands immediately snaking around the back of his neck, pulling yourself into him. His hand dropped to your side, his touch rough, almost painful as he pressed and squeezed his fingertips into your waist. You felt him pulling you closer, his body radiating a heat that almost made it hard to breathe. His hand travelled lower, pushing up the material of your dress and allowing his fingers to graze the bare skin of your thighs. He ran his palm over the place Leo had touched, as though he was cleansing you of it, wiping it away and replacing it with his own.

You’d been starved for so long that even his hand on your thigh made you tremble, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as he kissed you. The sound stirred something in him, and in moments you found yourself straddling his lap in the driver’s seat.

He was hard. You could feel it straining beneath his trousers, pressing against your centre as you tangled your fingers in his hair, your breaths hot and heavy, anger and lust fogging the windows like steam. You rolled your hips, the steering wheel letting out a short, loud beep as your backside knocked against it. But neither of you paid it any attention, giving in to the fevered, passionate release you’d been denying yourselves for so long.

His hands settled on your hips, gripping you firmly as he pushed himself against you, the friction drawing a satisfied groan from his throat. You’d missed those sounds, the way it felt to have him desperate to fill you. But you knew he was losing himself, intoxicated by his own frustration. You were in a car, parked on the side of a quiet, winding road. This wasn’t how he wanted it to be, and you weren’t sure it was how you wanted it to be either.

You broke away, letting your head fall back as he began traipsing hot, hungry kisses down your neck. “Ben,” you whispered breathlessly. “If we go any further I won’t be able to stop.”

You felt him pause, his lips still, breath tickling your skin.

“This isn’t how you wanted it to be,” you said softly, masking your disappointment. “We need to stop.”

He lowered his forehead to rest on your collarbone, letting out a quiet sigh. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with lust.

He pulled away from you, his hand lingering on your waist for a second longer before finally letting go. He sat back, his head tilting against the headrest as he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

You slid off his lap, climbing back into the passenger seat and fixing your dress. You looked over at him, watching him in silence, fearful of what awaited you when he finally opened his eyes. You’d spent four months wanting nothing more than to see him break, to give in to you, and if it were anyone else, you would have taken full advantage of this lapse in judgement. But you couldn’t.

The silence was awkward, moonlight casting a soft glow through the steamy windows, your slowing breaths providing the only sound. When he finally looked at you, there was a clarity in his expression; his jaw softening, eyes rounding.

“Thank you,” he said.

There was something about the way he said it, like your restraint had renewed his faith in you, shifted something inside him.

You nodded slightly, reaching behind you for your seatbelt.

He nodded back, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer before finally starting the car again. The engine rumbled and he leaned forward to wipe the windshield, using his sleeve to clear it.

The tension remained as he drove, but it was different now. He was no longer angry, and you no longer cared to push his buttons. After a while, you gathered he was taking you to his house, and it filled you with a sense of relief you couldn’t quite explain.

The road was empty, quiet, yet still the traffic light turned red. He slowed to a stop, resting his hand on the gearstick as he waited for it to change.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “About Leo. I really was just teasing you. I never would have-”

He reached out and took your hand in his without a word, giving it a gentle squeeze. You relaxed back into your seat, looking down at your intertwined fingers as they rested in your lap.

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cptindanvers · 6 months ago

Text

can't seem to run you out of my mind [you part 3]

summary: distancing yourself from Steve and Nancy was quite possibly the best decision of your life. but, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

pairing: steve harrington x reader (set end of s2 + s3)

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: it's finally here!! after like . two years of this rotting, untouched from its first very rough draft. well. hope u enjoy! (also, can u tell how much i hate writing the show scenes LOL)

part one / part one [remastered] / part two / masterlist

November came and went in a flash. Attempts at forgetting the month's events and living normally was starting to feel like a dream; always just out of reach.

This time, Steve had gotten wrapped up in everything because of your advice; flowers are the key to a girl's heart, you'd insisted. They also happened to be the key to near-death experiences, apparently.

It was a series of unfortunate events, really.

Jonathan had been spending an awful lot of time with Nancy; you'd be happy for him if it hadn't left Steve with no one but you to call.

Steve had made sure to keep you updated on everything that happened between him and Nancy. You knew he had no bad intentions, but listening to him talk about how much he loved Nancy was agonizing for your poor heart. Steve felt like he owed it to you, considering he'd shown up at your door without warning that Halloween night. You felt like it was the worst form of torture.

And so, he'd innocently walked up to Nancy's house with flowers at the same time Dustin Henderson walked up; his one-way ticket to danger.

The kids had recounted everything you missed out on afterwards, stars in their eyes. A majority of the good comments about Steve came from Dustin, which caught you by surprise. Dustin's defensive tone made you wonder about any information he hadn't relayed.

Hearing about Steve protect the kids you adored made all those nasty, wonderful feelings bubble in your chest. But the same heroic tales led you to the awful realization that underneath it all, you've led Steve down to danger from the very beginning; if Jonathan had answered the door two years ago, Steve would've been blissfully unaware of the Upside Down.

But it was too late to think about how things could've been different; maybe Steve would've gotten involved regardless of you. At the end of the day, both of you had gotten tangled up in another inter-dimensional predicament, pulling the two of you together in ways you'd hoped to avoid.

This new Steve, heroic and selfless, risking his life for teenagers he just met, definitely didn't align with the Steve you once knew.

And you so desperately wanted to learn everything about this new Steve.

The hopefulness made that familiar ache in your chest painfully present and the logical side of you knew you'd have to snap yourself back into reality at some point.

Or rather, Jonathan did.

⁂

Apologies and explanations were exchanged, though the both of you knew you couldn't stay mad at each other for long. A much-needed late night talk revealed the relationship that'd started between Nancy and Jonathan, a bright blush creeping up Jonathan's neck as he summarized what happened.

You'd confided in Jonathan about your very complicated feelings towards Steve, knowing Jonathan was quite possibly the only person in Hawkins who'd understand. He nodded as you spoke, letting you get everything off your chest; and what a relief it was.

"I just don't know what to do," you sighed dejectedly, Jonathan's silence worrying you as you wondered how he'd weigh in.

"He hurt you." Jonathan said factually, as if you had no idea.

"I know."

"I just want you to be careful."

You sighed. "I know," you mumbled quietly as Jonathan pulled you in for a hug.

He was right, as annoying as it was. There was no way you could ever go back to Steve with the way he treated you. Even if he changed, it didn't change what he did.

So, you went back to how you were before; distancing yourself from Steve. It was different this time; you were no longer fighting lingering feelings. You'd acknowledged them, now you'd have to let them pass over you.

⁂

It'd been around 7 months since El closed the gate and saved all your asses, and a week or two since you'd last seen Steve at Hawkins High.

You weren't exactly avoiding Steve - though you did duck your head anytime you saw him in the halls, pretending you were too deep in conversation with a friend to hear him call your name. Maybe you could be friends with him one day, but you needed time without him for a while.

Over half a year had gone by faster than you'd anticipated. Winter became spring which turned into summer, the chilly months fighting a losing battle to the warmer temperatures. The heat became unbearable in June, forcing most Hawkins residents to take shelter in their homes. Those who were brave enough to venture outside frequented the town’s only pool or the new Starcourt Mall with dozens of indoor shops or, perhaps most importantly, air conditioning.

The few weeks out of school had been vital to your journey of protecting your peace; getting to pick and choose who you spent your time with gave you a greater sense of control. You could finally, confidently say you were doing well; great, even. The gaping hole in your chest, kept open by unwanted interactions, had healed.

Steve wasn't on your mind on your third date with someone you'd met at the library a few weeks ago. Steve wasn't on your mind when the two of you entered the brand new Starcourt Mall. Steve wasn't on your mind when your date offered to buy ice cream, until Steve was right in front of you. A few awkward glances were passed as your date paid and took your ice creams, but Steve was no longer on your mind as the two of you walked out, hand in hand.

Things were good; bearable now.

"So..." your date began. "Who was that?"

A part of you pondered why your date wondered who Steve was. You'd made it clear that once summer was over, the two of you would be too.

You shrugged nonchalantly, swiping at your ice cream before answering. "Just an ex."

"Anyone I should be worried about?"

A small - albeit a little annoyed - smile crept onto your face.

"Not at all."

⁂

Jonathan had been a little distant this summer, busy balancing a new relationship and internship at the Hawkins Post. You didn't mind much; you recognized the opportunity he was given, and how lucky he was to share it with Nancy. And, the two of you always made time to catch each other up on the most important details.

Other than occupying yourself with summer flings, you spent time with your annoying kids that you loved dearly.

The kids were dying to visit the mall; and while they had their bikes, they also had a perfectly available chaperone who they knew they could plead into doing essentially anything for them.

It was partially your fault for always giving into the kids, but as mischievous as they were, you loved seeing them happy. Plus, it was summer; they were well deserving of a break after all they 'd been through.

However, they were a lot more resourceful than you'd anticipated. Somehow, the teens had roped Steve Harrington into their antics. The surprise on your face was evident when the kids led you into Scoops Ahoy, coercing Steve into letting them into the movies for free. You knew what Steve did for them, of course; how could you forget? But you hadn't anticipated the relationship to continue after the monsters were banished.

"Tiny assholes, all of them." Steve had his hands on his hips, looking a lot like an exasperated babysitter.

You laughed in agreement.

You planned on spending the next approximately 2 hours shopping for Dustin; he was coming home in a few weeks, you had yet to find a suitable welcome back gift for him. Those plans were trashed as the kids had circled back around, complaining about how they had to walk all over the mall searching for you. Surprise overcame you once again that day; conversation with Steve had come too easily, too natural. So much that two hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

You rolled your eyes at the kids, threatening to let them walk home before waving a goodbye to Steve, leading the teens out of the mall and into your car like ducklings.

It was adorable.

"What the hell was that about?" A voice from behind Steve demanded.

"Jesus, Robin! I thought you went home."

"No way. I just didn't want to interrupt whatever that was." Robin propped herself up to sit on the ledge connecting the break room and ice cream parlor, suddenly very intrigued in studying Steve's body language.

Steve huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned his head, hoping Robin wouldn't spot the red hue creeping up his face.

"Seriously? That was the longest you've talked to a girl all summer. I'd give you a point if you'd at least gotten her number or something!"

Steve ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Do you seriously not - ? I can't just -"

"What, did you break her heart in high school or something?" Robin laughed a little, only half joking until she saw how Steve's face dropped, suddenly very interested in wiping down the spotless counter.

Robin bit her bottom lip, hating how big her stupid mouth was. Whoever you were, you clearly meant a lot to Steve. Robin hadn't even thought that was possible, though she was realizing that maybe, there was a lot more to Steve than he let people see.

"Well, it seems like she forgave you? I mean, I wouldn't talk to someone I hated for two hours." Robin's voice softened, suddenly feeling the need to reassure Steve. Who would've thought?

"Yeah, I just... it's complicated, okay?"

That would've been the end of it; until you walked back into Scoops Ahoy, completely alone, a few days later.

Maybe it was out of boredom, maybe loneliness. Maybe you realized how embarrassing it was that the majority of your friend group consisted of kids that hadn't officially reached high school yet.

Whatever led you to Scoops didn't matter as you walked in, watching the surprise on Steve's face as you came up to the counter.

"Hey, you" Steve said automatically, wanting to punch himself in the face. "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, not even glancing down at the array of ice cream. "Guess I missed you."

The boldness of your words caught Steve off guard, a minute to recollect himself necessary.

"Sorry?" His voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, lips parted in confusion and eyes big.

"I want to be friends, Steve. I mean, if that's okay -"

"No, yeah! That's - that's more than okay," Steve quickly reassured you, glancing up at the few customers entering the store.

"Tell you what, if you want to sit in the back - I'll just take care of them and take my break?" Steve glanced at you nervously, as if he was asking for your permission; as if the slightest inconvenience would make you change your mind and walk away from him. Steve realized that he really didn't want you to leave.

You entered the back of Scoops Ahoy as instructed, glancing warily at the big, red EMPLOYEES ONLY. Perhaps the sign was warning you of things you couldn't see just yet; but how could you have known what such a simple action would lead to?

Always too stubborn to heed any warnings, you entered the break room of the parlor, eyes landing on a girl in a Scoops Ahoy uniform; she was sitting at the small metal table in the center of the room, well-loved sneakers propped up in front of her. Her name tag read Robin, and Robin had stopped eating her yogurt mid-bite to stare at you, a knowing smile growing on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was -" Your words faltered as your face warmed; you hadn't even realized Steve had a coworker.

"Oh, it's okay! You're waiting for Steve, right? He talks about you a ton." Robin smiled warmly, getting up from her spot to meet you, face-to-face.

"Really? I -"

"I'm Robin. I don't think we've properly met." Robin stuck her hand out, yogurt long forgotten.

You took Robin's hand gently, introducing yourself with a bright smile. You had a feeling the two of you would get along well.

Just as Robin finished talking about a super annoying customer that complained about her serving too much ice cream - who complains about that, anyway? Steve burst open into the break room, as if you ran away in the few minutes that'd passed from the last time he saw you.

"Hey," Steve breathed out, snatching the stupid sailor hat off his head, eyes glancing from you to Robin back to you.

"I see you've met Robin." Steve motioned to the girl standing next to you, her arm reaching up and over your abdomen.

"Yup," Robin said, squeezing your side as she headed for the door back into the parlor. "You're way out of his league, by the way!" Robin called as she shut the break room door behind her.

The sweet sound of your laughter dissolved the scowl right off Steve's face.

"She's - ignore her." Steve ran a hand through his hair, motioning towards the table.

"She's sweet." You took a seat as Steve slid into a chair across from you. "Seems like a good influence." You teased.

"What? I'm totally the good influence here. She's younger too, so I'm, like, basically her mentor or whatever." Steve smiled, voice tapering off as he glanced at you, unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

"You know, I didn't realize you were... friends with the kids." You said the word carefully, as if the statement would offend Steve.

"Honestly, I didn't either. Gave Dustin some advice and I guess we bonded." Steve shrugged, smile a little sad as he remembered that day.

"Advice? Really?" You let out a small laugh. There was no bite to your words, yet you brought heat to Steve's face, an embarrassed hand coming up to his neck.

"Yeah, I mean..." Steve was a little apprehensive, but your eager gaze led the next words out of his mouth, almost unconsciously. Steve lowered his voice, as if Dustin could hear him from however many miles away. "Dustin had a crush."

Your reaction was priceless; the way your eyes widened in surprise, hand clapping over your mouth as if Steve had just revealed the most groundbreaking piece of news of your life.

"You know, I always suspected -" You began, recalling the way Dustin had described the new girl in Hawkins.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. You say that now." Steve interrupted, eyes crinkling with that award-winning smile.

"No, I did!" You insisted between bursts of laughter. "I swear!"

"Yeah, I guess you always had that kind of intuition," Steve smiled fondly at the memories he kept of you, stored neatly in a special part of his mind. "Remember when you swore John and... Christ, what was her name?"

"Melissa!" The excitement at such a simple recollection made Steve's heart flutter.

"Melissa," Steve snapped his fingers, pointing back at you. "John and Melissa. They looked at each other once in that class we all had."

"You know they're still together?" You reported, eyes gleaming with memories of your old classmates. A lot of them weren't terrible, for the most part.

"What? I swear they've broken up like, twenty times." Steve's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, smile reappearing as he watched you laugh softly.

"Guess there's someone for everyone, right?"

Steve took a second too long to reply, watching the way the florescent lights of Scoops Ahoy illuminated the warm glow on your face, cheeks surely sore from all the smiling. Thoughts betrayed him as he glanced down to your lips; he'd kissed them plenty of times before, but he took all good things for granted back then. The corners of Steve's lips turned up at your suggestion of true love and soulmates; ideas that always entertained him, though he never was quite sure how much of it he bought into.

"Yeah," Steve was suddenly very interested in his hands, tracing figures on his palms. "I guess there is."

He prayed to any higher being out there you couldn't see the way his skin turned pink under your gaze.

⁂

Your trips to Scoops Ahoy quickly became routine, easier to settle into than you'd expected, or even planned.

You'd begun being the one who suggested the kids hang out at Starcourt, eventually drawing suspicion with each additional leap at the mention of the mall; it was strange how they no longer had to beg you to drive them there.

Visits to Scoops Ahoy were made during the week, at hours Steve assured you would be slow, anyway. The last thing you wanted was to get in the way of anyone's work. Though Steve was right for the most part, he couldn't fully control the stream of customers at any given time.

Robin always commented on how you might as well get a job at Scoops with how much time you spent there, but you always laughed the comment off.

"Really, I don't know why you choose to be here, especially when Steve Harrington works here." Robin half-joked as the two of you wiped down tables.

"He's not so bad." You said softly, playing along.

"Sure." Robin teased lightly, smiling growing on her face.

Maybe it would be too much, too serious if you got a job at the same place as Steve. Perhaps you worried of lines you'd cross if that step was taken.

So, you stuck to your little routine of visiting Scoops Ahoy - sometimes with the kids, but mostly alone.

⁂

The bell rings, and Steve turns quickly, throwing the rag he was using to shine the counter over his shoulder. His customer-appropriate smile falters when he sees the guy - the one you had come in with only a few weeks prior - with another girl.

Steve definitely didn't earn himself a tip with his service, but his annoyance (and perhaps jealousy) had sprung onto him out of nowhere. I mean, how did you even stand going out with the guy? Steve recognized him; he had been on the basketball team with him but had never even made it off the bench.

And although high school shouldn't be consuming so much of Steve's mind post-graduation, he can't help but reminisce as he wipes down the counters for the fourth time; no customers to serve - no distractions to keep him from thinking of you.

His thoughts hadn't initially started with you, but it seemed like you were seeping into every crevice of his brain. When you weren't around, he talked Robin's ear off about you, funny stories you had shared, or pointing out something he remembered you enjoyed. And, really, he wasn't sure he ever stopped being able to think about you.

But all those thoughts, all his memories of you, eventually led him back to the part were he ruined it all.

Maybe something about all the shit he's seen these past two years, the life-threatening situations he found himself in over and over again finally made Steve grow up. There were much more important things than whether the people he associated with were cool enough to be around; no value in things like his reputation. He was sure you'd been the only person, at least back then, to really care about him.

Even then, he was too afraid to let his persona down around you. He was always a gentleman, always suave; but never vulnerable. Not enough, anyway.

The way he acted back then makes Steve want to go back and help Jonathan get a few more punches in, really. And Steve, even after your tenth time visiting Scoops Ahoy, can't wrap his head around the idea that you're here, willing to even talk to him.

So, if friendship is all you have to offer Steve, that's what he'll take.

But it's beginning to eat away at him.

Steve turns his engine off once he pulls into your driveway, but it's as if you can sense he doesn't want you to go quite yet.

There's no tension, not like last time, but Steve's turned toward you and he has that habit of biting his lips when he's nervous and it's making you nervous.

"We never did, um... talk about-"

"Steve, we really don't have to-"

"Why? I mean, I can admit to all of it and I just want to-"

"Well, I don't want to, Steve!" You say exasperatedly. Perhaps it's because the strange form of friendship you have with him now is riding on the fact that you've managed to swallow all your pain and put it far behind you, to associate it with a version of Steve that didn't exist anymore. Maybe it was easier to believe that you had both had been playing pretend with each other, never really together. And, god, was Steve making it difficult for you.

"I care about you," Steve starts once the silence has become unbearable. "I mean, I did before, too, and I was really bad at showing it, but I did love you-" Shit. That's not what Steve had meant to say.

"Steve-"

"I didn't mean..." Steve sighs, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

"I don't think you do. Love me." Your voice is so soft, careful. "Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you think you do now. But I think... maybe you're just a little lonely, Steve."

You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not as you open the passenger car door, not as you make a quiet exit, not as you enter your home; leaving him as just as you did two years ago.

Once again, Steve's made all this so complicated.

⁂

You have the decency not to show up to Scoops Ahoy anymore, much to Steve's dismay. He wasn't trying to change anything. He had been more than content with just seeing you semi-regularly; maybe that's why he still searched for your face in the crowd.

But you didn't want Steve to stay in love with you, or stay confused, or whatever it was you thought Steve was feeling. He knew that. He also knew that your actions, however kind, were pointless. A piece of Steve would always be reserved for you.

Isn't that what being in love feels like?

⁂

Your shift in demeanor when the kids bring up Starcourt gives you away quickly.

It's subtle; a furrow of your brow, an avoidance of eye contact, an excuse, and a suggestion of a different place to visit.

Max catches on first, testing her theory with questions, eventually leading the topic back up to Steve.

"You like him, don't you?" Max smiles, thinking she's figured it out. "He obviously likes you, too, so there's nothing to worry about!"

You bite back a tart laugh. That was exactly the problem. "I promise you, I do not like Steve."

"Didn't you guys date before?" Mike pipes up, faintly recalling some type of history between the two of you.

"We did."

"So why'd you break up? Did he do something? I know with Nancy-"

"Mike!" Max scoffs. "Obviously she doesn't want to talk about it!"

"Guys, it's fine," you insist. "But I promise, there's nothing going on between Steve and I."

"Oh-kay," Mike raises his hand in surrender. "But do you really think we'd ever willingly just hang out with Steve Harrington?" Max frowns and smacks Mike's arm. "Ow! What? I'm just saying!"

⁂

"And then I told her I still loved her. But it was an accident!"

"Still love her? As in, did before?"

"We were together for a while junior year. It... didn't end very well."

Robin sits with this information, faintly recalling ignoring hushed whispers about a situation her sophomore year, Steve's name thrown around more than usual.

"Okay, so what'd she say?"

Steve goes quiet, suddenly very intrigued by his half-eaten banana. "That I didn't and I was just lonely."

Robin can at least acknowledge the pain in Steve's voice, no matter how he tries to hide it. "I really don't mean to be a downer, but... you've only been talking regularly for, what, a few weeks? And you just realized you've been in love for who knows how long after a few weeks?"

It doesn't sound rational. Not in Steve's head, or anyone else's. And maybe Steve didn't really know what love was. It wasn't like he'd ever been around a good example of it. Perhaps he was still too young, too deprived of love to recognize it.

But Steve's heart was trying so desperately to convince him otherwise, recalling all the moments you'd made him feel too much too quickly, dating back to sophomore year.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Steve mutters, throwing the rest of his banana into the trash, his appetite suddenly lost.

⁂

It's been days since Steve last saw you.

It would've been unbearable if Dustin hadn't come home a few days after your last talk with Steve - and really, Steve couldn't be more grateful.

It was strange how much he missed Dustin. It was strange how their friendship continued past demonic dogs together, and even stranger how much normalcy Dustin was able to bring Steve - though there was no way it could've lasted long.

Dustin came in with a secret Russian code begging to be cracked. Of course, after Steve, the second person he wanted to loop in was you. And of course, you came running.

⁂

Your little mission has led you to an elevator - trapped, if you wanted to be completely accurate.

You knew this was a bad idea - but it was better to tag along and try to keep them as safe as possible than to leave them on their own. Right?

There's not much of a bright side, though. No way to push yourself into danger as long as it meant getting everyone else to safety - wherever you were going, you'd all be going together.

The idea didn't comfort you.

"I think you were right." Steve interrupts your useless brainstorming of ways to get out - something the rest of them had given up on a while ago.

"Hmm? About the door?"

"What? No," Steve laughs, arms crossed as he stands in a corner of the elevator, hoping for as much privacy as he could get with three other people. "No, I mean... me. Us. About what you said that day."

"Oh. That." Your chest tightens, and you're unable to distinguish if it's discomfort or hurt. It was confirmation. You were right. Steve had never really loved you.

"That," Steve repeats. "I didn't... I never wanted anything to change. You want to be friends, that's all we'll be. I'm happy with that. Just... I want you to stick around, alright? I mean, it's bad enough I dragged you into this-"

You scoff. "Steve, I'm the one who dragged you into this."

Steve's brows furrow as he gives you a look.

"Two years ago. If I hadn't opened that door..."

"Oh, you mean if you'd shot me?"

Both of you laugh. "I should've shot you! I think you would've been better off." Cause, god did it feel like you were a magnet, dragging Steve towards everything terrible that popped up in Hawkins.

"Nah," Steve shakes his head. "It's all taught me a lot. Made me think about things differently."

You'd almost be grateful for the whirring noise that picked up your attention - if it didn't hammer in the last nail in the we're so screwed coffin.

The sense of dread that sticks in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away, even as you all finally make it out of the elevator; it seems to intensify with each step taken down the abnormally long hallway.

Something wasn't right.

At least you weren't alone. Steve and Dustin slow their paces alongside you as the three of you begin to exchange looks and whispers.

"Look, it's just a theory, right?" Steve chirps. "We don't know for sure."

"Yeah, but if we are right..." Dustin trails off, eyes falling on you as you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Better start praying we're wrong," you mumble, quickening your pace before the three of you lag too far behind.

⁂

Your situation somehow worsens when you stumble upon the main hub, or whatever this place was, dozens of very heavily armed guards standing perfectly in between you and the room you wanted to break in to.

Somehow, slowly and sneakily, the five of you make it; and you would've been home free if it weren't for the soldier in the coms room, hand reaching for his gun before you can even react.

Luckily, Steve's faster. He has the soldier down in a surprising amount of time, considering his odds when it came to fights.

"You can shoot, right?" Dustin says, motioning to the knocked-out solider. "Take his gun!"

You consider it, but only for a few seconds. "No," you shake your head. "There's too many of them out there. If they see us with a gun, they'll shoot. At all of us."

There was no way you were putting everyone in that type of danger. The mood goes solemn with the thought, only snapping out of it when Robin's voice interrupts.

"Guys," she says breathlessly, motioning to the stairs behind her. "There's something up there."

Quietly, everyone makes their way up the stairs to a small room with windows that confirm your suspicions.

Whoever these people are, they're trying to reopen The Gate.

⁂

It's not long after you notice the missing guard that the alarms go off and god, you never should've let the kids get involved.

Your body moves quicker than your brain, breaking into a run while you try to navigate the facility and, simultaneously, lead everyone to somewhere safe.

There's an empty room and you shut the door as soon as the last person enters, immediately leaning yourself against the door to try and keep it shut. Steve's right beside you, bracing himself with his back against the door.

"Go!" Steve shouts and you think he's urging Dustin and Erica down the vent they've uncovered - but you turn your head and realize he's talking to you.

"What? No-"

"Please," Steve pleads, desperately. "Please go."

Robin acts quickly, urging you towards the kids as she places herself against the door. "I've got it," she assures.

Because, even if she hasn't known Steve for long, she knows he'll never forgive her if something Robin could've prevented happened to you.

There's not a lot of time; not as Dustin stands halfway in the vent, not as the soldiers group around the door, trying to force their way in.

So you go.

⁂

Your throat tightens as the space around you constricts drastically, but having to crawl through vents isn't your main concern.

The regret was instant, the urge to turn back strong. But where would that get you? No, where would that get the kids?

Steve had sent you to protect them. Yes, that was it. That was what you had to do now. Focus and get them out.

"Come on," you say, wiping the sweat off your brow as you all come to a fan blocking your passage. "Pass me the screwdriver."

⁂

"Oh, god."

Dustin works on Steve and Robin's restraints hastily as you stare down at the man you'd... electrocuted? killed?

You don't feel bad, not after seeing the damage on Steve's face. His uniform is stained with fresh blood still streaming from the gash near his mouth. His eye is almost swollen shut. Robin, at least, looks physically unscathed, but who knows what they did or said?

"Get ready to run," Dustin warns, finally pulling the restraints loose.

Though, it was a lot less running and a lot more dragging.

⁂

"Are they drunk?"

"No, no," you crouch next to Steve, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. "I think they got drugged."

"What? I'm fine," Steve laughs, hands reaching for your face.

"Steve, let me see your eyes." You try to hold him still, pulling his eyelid up to check his pupils; his extremely dilated pupils.

"No, I wanna see your- ow- eyes," Steve mumbles.

You turn back to Dustin and Erica. "Definitely drugged."

The elevator comes to a stop and you're dragging Steve up. He almost knocks you over with the way he clings onto you, laughing about something you can't understand. You pull Robin up with your free hand, grip on them strong as you tug them out of the room.

"Shit!" Dustin cries as guards begin to run at you.

"Go, go," You motion towards the room to your left, dragging Steve and Robin along as quickly as you possibly can.

"Why are we running?" Robin groans, trying to worm herself out of your grasp.

Dustin takes the lead, navigating the hallways you're sure Steve has taught him how to sneak through. Thank god for their bribery.

Dustin finds the right door and sticks his head out. "All clear," he announces before opening it fully.

"Okay," you stop for a breath, letting Steve and Robin loose and turning towards Dustin and Erica. "My car's parked out front, we can get out through the side entrance and..." you reach into your back pocket for your keys but come up empty-handed.

Your heart drops.

"What?" Dustin asks, staring at your expression.

"My keys are gone," you say solemnly.

"What do you mean they're gone?"

You check your back pocket again. And your other one, and your front ones. "They're gone. They must've fallen out somewhere, shit!"

"Hey, guys?" Erica calls. "Where'd they go?"

Your head snaps; Erica's right. Robin and Steve are gone.

"We're gonna need backup," Dustin sighs.

⁂

"Okay, my turn," Robin giggles. "What really happened between you and... you know. I mean, I heard rumors but..."

Steve sighs from his stall, leaning his head against the wall.

"I cheated on her. With her best friend."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, it's definitely still in your system."

"Biggest mistake of my entire life. I don't even know why I did it. I guess I was so used to... pretending. I thought... that maybe she didn't actually think our relationship was real. I mean, looking back, I don't think I had any genuine relationships... with anyone, except her. I just... got caught up in all the lies and thought we were one, too."

Robin sits quietly, unsure of how to respond.

"You OD over there?"

She laughs. "No, no, I am still alive."

Steve slides under the stall, leaning back opposite of Robin. "I guess... I never expected her to forgive me, right? She said she did, but... I don't know. I guess I never forgave myself."

"She still cares about you, y'know?" Robin offers. "I mean, it's obvious."

That at least pulls out a laugh from Steve. "Yeah, I don't know. I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to move on. Meet new people."

Maybe the shit Robin got injected with is still messing with her head - or maybe the sad look in Steve's eyes is killing her. She doesn't know him as well as she thought she did, couldn't chalk up his character to rich, popular, white boy with no problems of his own.

But to do this, to be actual friends with Steve Harrington, there was something he needed to know.

"Do you... remember what I said about Click's class?"

⁂

The walkie-talkie only gets you so far without an extra eight double-a batteries. Seriously, did it really need that many?

You're getting exasperated in your search as you exit the theater and look at the unusually empty Starcourt walkways. That's right. It's the Fourth of July.

"Uh, okay, think," Dustin says. "If I were a drugged-up Steve, where would I be?"

"Maybe they went back to Scoops?" Erica suggests.

"No," you shake your head. "I think I know where they went."

Dustin bursts into the bathroom and you breathe an audible sigh of relief as you spot Steve and Robin in one of the stalls.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Dustin demands.

You stick out your hands immediately, helping Steve and Robin up once again. "Are you guys feeling better?"

"Yup, think we got must of it out of our systems," Steve confirms, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of the blood and vomit staining his uniform. God, he doesn't even want to see what he looks like right now.

But there's nothing but worry in your eyes as you check for any new damage since the last time you saw them. Now, though, in the florescent lights of the Starcourt bathroom, you can really see how Steve's face has been healing.

And by that, you mean it looks even worse.

"It probably looks worse than it is," Steve tries to assure, hands bringing yours that hold his face as you try to inspect it, down.

"Yeah, well, you look like shit," you mutter.

"I really hate to interrupt, but do we have a way out of here?" Robin pipes up.

You sigh. "Dustin tried to call the rest of the kids, but we don't know how much they heard. We have no idea where they are and... my keys are gone! So..."

"We're gonna have to go out there," Dustin says, cracking open the bathroom door.

The rest of you peer over his head, watching as crowds emerge out of the theater.

"And... blend."

⁂

"Abort, abort!"

"Go, go!" For the millionth time, you're rushing everyone along - this time, sliding down the space between the up and down escalators.

"Get behind that counter," you say. "Go!"

You and Steve help Dustin and Erica jump over the counter as each of you press your backs against the nooks made for the employees.

Someone's sneaker squeaks against the linoleum and you hold your breath as you hear a voice, not so far off, saying something you can't understand.

Your eyes fall to your lap, where you realize Steve's hand is clasped around yours. You're not sure who reached for who, but it doesn't matter; you squeeze.

The sound of a car alarm brings surprise to your face as you turn to look at an equally confused Steve. A loud crash has you spinning, hands on the counter as the five of you slowly peer over.

The guards are down, red pools of blood slowly forming under them. The shiny red car once sitting in the middle of the food court sits, smoking, in the side of one of the food stalls.

You all turn slowly, but you only know one person capable of this.

El stands, peering over from the second floor, with the rest of the party, along with Nancy and Jonathan, coming up behind her.

Dustin breaks into a jog to hug Mike and El and you can't deny your pace quickens once you spot Jonathan.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying your house for days," Jonathan says, pulling you into a hug.

"Sorry, I was stuck underneath Starcourt."

He doesn't even have time to ask what the hell you were talking about before you're pulling Nancy into an equally tight embrace.

The game of catch-up commences as you five try to explain how the Russians and the Gate are, in fact, connected until El collapses.

"El? El!"

"My... leg..." El manages out through painful breaths.

"Okay, okay, her leg..."

Nancy moves the gauze on her leg off as Mike carefully rolls up her pant leg, revealing a wound that most certainly does not look right. Something moves inside of it, earning sick groans from the group.

"Keep her talking," Jonathan starts, getting up. "Keep her awake!" He calls sprints off in the direction of the food court, and you help Mike sit El up, carefully.

"You know, it's, uh, not that bad. You know, the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and, like, the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane-"

"Robin, please," you say lightly.

"You're not helping," Steve adds.

"I'm sorry." She runs a hand through her hair, clearly overwhelmed. You can't blame her, really. Not after all the informaton about monsters and superpowers you all just dumped on her.

"Okay," Jonathan says, returning with a few new tools. "All right, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay? Need you to stay real still."

You grab El's hand and squeeze, lightly.

"Here, you're gonna want to bite down on this, okay?"

Jonathan slices the wound with the knife and El screams through the wooden spoon in her mouth, squeezing your hand hard.

Her screams only intensify and a collective gasp is drawn as Jonathan sticks his gloved fingers into the wound.

The pain becomes unbearable for El, your fingers close to breaking, when she spits out the spoon.

"Stop! I can do it... I can do it."

All of you watch in terror as El screams, forcing whatever was in her leg out.

The shop window behind you shatters and you cover her head from the spray of glass, watching as the slimey, fleshy, thing makes it out of her leg and goes flying, crawling, smashed under a shoe.

There stands Hopper, Joyce, and a man you've never seen before.

Now the real game of catch-up commences.

⁂

"Hey," a voice comes up behind you.

"Hey." You turn to see Steve, face a few different shades now. It's too quiet between the two of you now, the world pushing you together harder in the last twenty-four hours than it ever had before. It might've been awkward if the threat of death wasn't looming over your head so consistently.

But there's no objective right now; no enemy to defeat, no facility to escape. No life-saving topics to discuss to distract from all the feelings you were trying to avoid.

"Why don't you let me clean that up?" You motion to his face; namely, his eye. "I'm sure there's a first aid kit somewhere." At the very least, there had to be ice.

Steve nods, unable to think of something cool and nonchalant to say. Robin catches his eye from a few feet away and shoots him a thumbs up - to which he makes a face at her.

There's a kit by the stove of whatever restaurant's counter Steve sits on, bouncing his knee nervously.

It's not the proximity that bothers him, he swears. But your touch has always been one he leans into, instinctively. Even when the alcohol you use to swipe at the dried blood stings when it touches his cuts, Steve doesn't do anything to break the contact between your fingers and his skin.

You're gentle, guiding Steve's head around carefully, even in places where he's uninjured. You apologize when he flinches, and he would shake his head at you if you hadn't insisted he stay still.

There's a look in your eyes, and for what feels like the first time ever, Steve doesn't know what you're feeling.

The corners of your lips pull down into a small frown as you press ice against Steve's swollen eye, apologies escaping you.

"'S fine," Steve insists, taking the responsibility of holding up the bag full of ice cubes from you.

"What... happened in there?" You ask, though you're not sure you really want to hear the answer.

"Oh, pfft. Got punched a few times, injected with a mystery drug. No biggie, really." There was no sarcasm in Steve's voice as he tried to downplay the situation, but his efforts to make you feel better were in vain.

"I should've stayed," you start.

"No-"

"No, I should've stayed, Steve! I had no idea what was happening to you down there and if... if something happened, if something worse had happened-!"

Your hands are in Steve's. Somehow, they've managed to work themselves in there again.

"I was going crazy imagining what they were doing to you. I think I would've preferred getting punched in the face as long as I knew... as long as I was with you."

It's all coming out now, all clicking in your head. You couldn't deny how worried you were about Steve, how panic had filled every crevice of your body when he wasn't in your line of sight; when he was in danger.

And what if he had gotten killed down there? What if one of you were to die fighting whatever fleshy monster you were bound to run into?

"This is a terrible time to say this, but I... I love you, Steve. I mean, as much as I don't want to, I do. It's fine if you're done with me, but you need to know, I mean, I have no idea what's going to happen after this, but almost losing you was the worst feeling of my entire life and we... we've been through some pretty bad shit!" You laugh because that's all you can do, nerves pooling in the pit of your stomach at Steve's silence.

But he's looking up at you with a glint in his good eye and lips parted - shock, maybe.

"Can, I uh... can I kiss you?" Steve asks, hoping you've wiped all the blood off the side of his mouth.

"Might just be your last chance," you smile, leaning in oh-so-carefully.

Steve's lips feel so familiar, but the way he kisses you is not. He's restrained, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of the disbelief. He holds you like he's always held you, carefully swiping a thumb across your cheek as you kiss.

You're careful as you pull away and Steve is starstruck.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Steve insists. "No, you didn't." Quite the opposite, really.

The worry won't wipe off your face so Steve takes your hands in his, thumbs tracing over your knuckles like he used to always do.

"Don't fuck up again, Harrington." Your voice comes out too soft, too vulnerable.

"I won't," Steve swears. "If I do, I fully give you permission to like... I don't know, chop off my dick or something."

"Hey," Robin calls, though she's unable to keep the grin off her face. "We just got put back on babysitting duty."

She doesn't miss how Steve doesn't let go of your hand all the way outside and she doesn't even mind squishing into the backseat with Dustin and Erica.

⁂

"Griswold Family, do you copy?!"

It's no use. They won't, or can't, pick up.

Your heart thuds in your chest at the thought of all the kids being so close to the danger. This wasn't the plan.

You catch Steve's eye and he nods, the two of you are up and off.

"Where are you going?" Erica demands.

"To get them the hell out of there! Stay here, contact the others!" Steve calls.

"Wait!" Dustin cries, throwing you a walkie. "Stay in touch."

You nod, carefully following Steve downhill as quickly as you can without tripping over yourself.

"Think we're gonna make it?" Steve asks as he manages to get back onto the road, slightly out of breath from the run.

"We're gonna make it," you assure, but you still let Steve's hand squeeze yours for just a second before returning to the wheel.

⁂

"Steve, he's not stopping!"

"Yeah, wouldn't expect that asshole to," Steve mutters. "Okay, hold on!"

You try not to scream as Steve presses the gas, aiming right for Billy. Steve puts his arm out in front of you upon impact, eyebrows drawn in worry.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, though you're not sure how honest you're being. "Come on," you hop out of the car, cramming into Nancy's backseat and shutting the door behind Steve, watching the giant spider flesh thing climb atop of Starcourt.

⁂

It would be comical, really. Dustin and the girlfriend you all thought was fake singing Never Ending Story while a monster chased you around. You'd be laughing if your lives weren't at stake.

"It's turning around," Steve warns and you press yourself closer to the window. Shit. He was right. "It's turning around!"

"Maybe we wore it out?"

"I don't think so!"

Jonathan makes a tight u-turn and, rather than driving the monster away, you're now following it.

Back to Starcourt, it is.

⁂

Your very own light show was right here in the middle of Starcourt, fireworks flung at the Mind Flayer evidently doing some damage. But you couldn't keep this up; the supply was running low and El was still down there with Billy.

All you could do was watch, horror-stricken, as the Mind Flayer got one final kill before the body was disconnected from the brain.

⁂

They put you in shock blankets as you sat in the ambulances. You weren't sure why, but maybe they were doing something. But it felt too constricting, too heavy on you. You had to stand, do something, check up on someone.

Someone beats you to it, bumping your knee with his as he takes a seat next to you.

There's no need for either of you to speak. There's not much to say, anyway.

Instead, you lean into Steve and he wraps his arms around you instantly, his own blanket slipping off as he slides his hands into yours.

There's a ghost of a kiss pressed against your forehead as you bury yourself further into Steve, away from everything horrible you'd seen today.

"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Steve whispers carefully.

You nod, almost immediately. You don't want to be alone. Not tonight.

⁂

Goodbyes were tough.

Steve had come with you to say goodbye to Jonathan and Will. Despite his rocky relationship with the former and practically non-existant one with the latter, he'd show up anywhere you asked him to.

There were so many memories in the Byers home, some of them completely haunting - but so many of them wonderful.

"Remember when we burnt breakfast so bad it filled the whole house with smoke?" Jonathan reminisces from beside you, leaning against the door frame.

"We? You were supposed to keep an eye on it," you laugh. "Remember Christmas?"

"Yeah, when I had to beg you to stay over?"

"You just didn't want to drive me home."

"Untrue."

The two of you go silent, each of your minds replaying all the memories you had together here. In different orders, you were sure, but all the same memories.

Jonathan pulls you into a hug; tighter than any he's give you before.

"Don't start crying on me now," you joke, but your own throat is beginning to tighten.

"Yeah, you wish."

It's Will and El that almost break you, each of them receiving bone-crushing hugs that they don't complain about - how could they through their sobs?

You hold them until you've got to let go, watching with a heavy heart as all the kids say their final goodbyes.

Not final ones. Just goodbyes, for now.

None of you leave until the U-Haul is long gone, a piece of your little family driving off with them.

⁂

"Steve," you laugh, barely able to get a word in between all the kisses. "I am a forty minute drive away."

"It's almost an hour with traffic," Steve whines, trying to hold you still as he kisses your face.

"Then I'll meet you halfway," you compromise, taking advantage of your cheeks occupying his lips.

"No, no, I'll be here," Steve promises, attacking your lips again.

"Steve!" You laugh, pushing him away. "I'll be home on weekends. And on days I don't have class."

"What if I miss you before that?" Steve mutters, forehead pressed against yours, hands on your hips.

"Then you come visit me. I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind an extra guest."

Steve groans as you laugh. His hands slide up to frame your face, your own hands resting atop of his.

"I'll see you in five days," you whisper with a smile.

"I'll be counting down the seconds."

Steve kisses you, as lovingly as he always does, until both your lips are puffy.

Maybe this summer wasn't so bad.

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