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dottores · 2 years

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DANGEROUS GAMES | CYNO

pairing: cyno x fem!reader.

summary: your boyfriend finally comes home after being gone weeks for mahamatra duties and finds himself in a rather difficult position when you make it your goal to cause him to lose control while finishing up his mission report.

warnings: fem!reader, oral (f->m, m->f), brief manhandling, reader teasing cyno, pussy drunk!cyno.

notes: this was only supposed to be a 500 word drabble. sobs.

wordcount: 3.3k

“Mm, I told you that I had to get work done tonight,” Cyno murmured, gaze flickering down to the ground where you were leaning against his leg, head resting on his thigh as you blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent as if you hadn’t just been dragging your lips up his skin, dangerously close to his cock.

He supposed he had known what he was getting into as soon as you had shot him that pouty, pleading expression, fingers digging into his forearm.

“I just want to be close to you,” you had said, and Cyno knew better than anyone that wanting to ‘be close to him’ always led to something more, but Cyno could never say no to you, especially when you looked at him like that. So even though he knew damn well that he had a report that he had to finish by dawn tomorrow, he still gave you the okay.

And if he hadn’t been certain already that your intentions were less than innocent, he absolutely was sure when instead of climbing onto his lap like you usually did when you were in a mood, you slipped beneath the desk, curling up at his feet and laying your head on his thigh, giving some half-assed excuse as to why you’d prefer to be down there instead of in his arms.

“I’m not stopping you,” you smiled, eyes alight with a sort of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a while. His blood ran hot, and he pressed his lips together tight--he couldn’t blame you, he mused to himself, Cyno had been away for weeks hunting down a rogue scholar, he had missed you just as much as you had him. “Or is the General Mahamatra’s grasp on his self control so weak that just a few kisses are enough to break his concentration?”

He eyed you, unamused at the challenge--if he were any other man, he was sure he would have broken there as your tongue darted out to swipe at his inner thigh, eyes bright and teasing as you watched his face for any crack in the hard exterior. But Cyno was not any other man, he was the General Mahamatra of Sumeru’s Akademiya and it would take more than just a few taunts to make him falter.

Cyno clicked his tongue gently, placing his pen down on his desk as he reached down to cup your cheek. His fingers danced along the soft skin of your cheekbone and he watched with lidded eyes as you instinctively leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. Cyno’s breath caught, taking in your lax expression as you basked in his touch, a familiar, warm feeling enveloping his chest--one that he had missed severely over the past few weeks.

As if you could sense the moment of weakness, like a spinocrocodile drawn to blood, your gaze trained on his face again, teasing and playful, waiting for him to give in. The hand on your cheek slid to your chin, gripping it hard, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he said firmly, dropping his hand to redirect his attention back to his document, picking up his pen to continue detailing what exactly had happened while he had been hunting the rogue scholar.

The giggle you let out nearly had him pause mid-stroke of his pen. “Yessir,” you said softly, breath ghosting over his bare thigh, and Cyno almost bit down on his tongue, teeth scraping against the muscle as the heat pooled down to his lower stomach immediately.

He forced himself to continue writing, brows furrowed at the clear interruption of the letter he had previously been writing--a stray line jagged off at the side, physical evidence of his momentary lapse of strength, one he prayed you didn’t catch. Your lips tugged up against his skin, and he knew that you hadn’t missed it.

The soft kisses you had been laying upon his skin turned heavier, wetter. He inhaled deeply as you sucked gently, certain that you were leaving a trail of bruises along his thigh in your wake. It took all of his inner strength to force himself to continue filling out the report, abdomen tensing as every movement you made dragged your lips further and further up his thigh.

You were playing a dangerous game, he noted as he let his free hand drop to the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair. It was another sign of surrender, he realized duly, but he supposed the way you let out a pleased hum against his skin made up for the internal disappointment he felt at himself.

You resumed your mission with a more intense fervor, and distantly, Cyno realized that he might have fucked up by giving you that brief yield. Give a step, take a mile, the old saying rang through his head, and Cyno barely suppressed the smile that itched at his lips as you, for the millionth time, proved the saying to be true.

He didn’t have much time to linger on the thought, a curse spilling from his lips as, without warning, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock, tongue flicking out to drag along the slit. His hips jerked, his grip tightened on his pen--barely stopping himself from dragging a dark line across the whole paper, which would have forced him to restart.

His gaze darted down, shooting daggers at you, but he couldn’t hold the irritation when the sight of you sucking gently at his tip, pupils blown wide and eyes lidded and dancing with mischief, came into his field of vision. His jaw clenched, and a part of him debating on trying to finish the report just to make a point.

He decided against it, in the end--but solely because it would be more work to restart if he messed up than it would to just finish later or in the morning. Not because he had lost his sense of self control. He laid his pen back down on the desk, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs just a bit more to give you more room.

He raised his eyebrows as you looked up at him, surprised, “Go on,” he said, voice low. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Your eyes lit up so bright that he really couldn’t stop the way his lips pulled up this time. You removed your lips from the tip of his cock with a soft pop, and Cyno nearly hissed at the loss of your touch. His thumb caressed the back of your head as you nuzzled your face up against his cock, giggling.

“Missed you s’much,” you breathed out, warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin. Cyno had a distinct feeling you were not talking to him, your eyes trained solely on his cock as you spoke. His throat bobbed as you began to lay slow, lingering kisses on the length of his cock, nails digging into his thighs as you pressed your body up against his leg.

Cyno let out a low grunt as you sucked lightly at the skin, hips bucking up. “Stop teasing.”

“‘m not teasin,” he could feel you pouting softly, but only for a moment, because a second later he could feel the way your lips tugged up again, the soft smile he loved so much hidden against his cock.

His grip on your hair tightened just enough to force you to look up at him, and Cyno bit back a sharp inhale when he caught the glossy sheen of his precum over your lips, caught how your eyes were half-glazed over as you looked at him--whatever words that had been lying on the tip of his tongue dissolved.

“I need to finish the report,” Cyno’s voice strained as you returned your attention to his cock again, licking a long stripe up his length before kissing the tip. He groaned, head tilting back as you finally sucked his tip back into your mouth. Letting out a low curse and taking in a shaky breath, he forced himself to look back down at you. “You hear me?”

You hummed around him, and the vibration sent a shudder through his whole body, one hand fisting your hair while the other gripped the arm of his chair so tight he swore it would break. You took him deep in your mouth, until his tip was nudging the back of your throat, lips sliding slowly up and down his cock, tongue swirling around it.

His blood burned, lips parted as you directed all of your attention to his cock. “Missed this,” he gasped, and he did. He had spent countless nights alone out in the desert missing the feel of your lips wrapped around his cock, your cunt squeezing tight around him--his hand wasn’t the same, didn’t feel as good even as he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined you were there with him.

You moved agonizingly slow, and the hand grasping your hair twitched with the need to push your face down, rock his hips up to chase the release he so desperately needed. He refrained, if only barely.

You pulled off, and Cyno barely stifled the complaint that rose to his lips, gaze dropping down once again. You rested your cheek back against his thigh, looking up at him, and Cyno just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at your blatant teasing when you looked at him with clear adoration on your face.

“I missed you,” you said softly, and this time you were talking to him, and he couldn’t help the brief pang in his chest as he let his hand slip from the back of your head to cup your cheek again, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. He knew the weeks away he spent were always hard on you but he also knew you couldn’t come with him for two reasons--one, you were still deep in your studies at the Akademiya, you couldn’t afford to leave the city yet; and two, his job was dangerous and he’d rather not put you in the line of fire, you were at risk enough from the people that were out to get him and would go to any lengths, including targeting the ones he cared about.

A part of him wondered why you even stayed, but he could never bring himself to ask--every time the question laid heavy on his tongue, he could never force it out. As commanding of a presence that the General Mahamatra was, confident and stoic and intimidating to those who come across him, ice-cold fear flooded his veins whenever he mulled over the prospect of you leaving him for someone more present in your life, anxious that if he’d voice the question out loud, it would make you second guess, realize that you did deserve better than a man that was more absent than present.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, once again unable to push the question out yet again.

You only smiled, nuzzling his thigh, “S’okay, I know you’re busy.”

Shouldn’t be too busy for you, he thought to himself, thumb running over your glistening, puffy lips. You kissed his palm once before batting his hand away, returning your attention to his cock.

There was no teasing this time as you took him into your mouth until your nose was flush against his pelvis, cheeks hollowing as you braced yourself on his thighs. Cyno’s eyes nearly knocked back, exhaling sharply, a low moan and a litany of curses spilling from his lips.

You didn’t give him any time to try to regain control over himself, bobbing your head on his cock, tongue swirling around him, flattening against his slit and flicking over it lightly every time you dragged your lips to his tip.

His hand shifted back behind your head, head thrown back as he guided your lips up and down his cock. “Just like that,” Cyno groaned, thighs tensing as he forced himself not to fuck his hips up against your face. Your throat spasmed around him as he pushed your head down just a bit too quickly but Cyno couldn’t bring himself to apologize, words catching over another moan.

He could feel your throat tightening against the intrusion, barely able to drag his lidded gaze down to you to catch your teary eyes as you struggled to take him all the way down your throat, as you struggled to breathe.

If it were any other time, Cyno would have loosened his grip on your hair, pulled his hand away from where it was laying heavy on the back of your head; his self-control had always been impeccable, even when he could feel himself on the brink of his orgasm, but this time was different. He had gone too long without your touch, without your lips, without your cunt--his body felt like it was on fire, aching for release, and you had been teasing him for far too long while he had been trying to finish the report. You really were the only one that could make the General Mahamatra lose control so easily, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or loved it.

“Gonna cum,” he gasped, “I’m gonna-

It was the only warning you got before Cyno let out a loud moan, one that he was sure that his neighbors could hear and would know damn well what the two of you were doing, but Cyno just couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He spilled his release deep down your throat, and he could feel you choking on it, desperately trying to swallow it all.

After a few seconds, Cyno’s hand dropped from your head, and you pulled up, gasping for air, tears spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him. Cyno’s chest heaved, reeling from the intense orgasm as he looked down at you. His cum dribbled down your chin and you were slumped against his leg, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover.

You gave him a small smile as you looked up at him. “Now you can go back to your report,” your voice was hoarse and scratchy, and Cyno studied you for a moment, still half hazy. You looked more than content, letting your eyes flutter shut as you rested against his leg and once again that heavy feeling settled over his chest--guilt.

Guilt because he was always making you wait for him, guilt because he was putting you off for finishing reports, for meetings with the Mahamata--when he was in the city, he was usually back home by the time you were already fast asleep in bed, face nuzzled into the pillow that only smelt faintly of him.

With that thought in mind, Cyno shook his head and stood up. You let out a surprised noise as you lost your balance when he moved, but Cyno was leaning down before you could topple over, large hands wrapping around your waist. He held your weight with one arm as he swiped his stuff off of the desk. And a part of him mourned the fact that he would have to rewrite the report and clean up the splattered ink.

He sat you down on the desk, kneeling on the ground in front of you and parting your legs. He could hear you inhale sharply, his name leaving your lips in a yelp but Cyno ignored you, tugging your underwear down.

He swallowed thickly, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent--drenched just from having your lips wrapped around his cock, he wondered when the last time you made yourself cum was, you always complained that you were never good enough to do it on your own, begging for his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

He didn’t hesitate as he hooked your legs around his shoulders. He let out a low groan against you, hands slipping beneath your skirt, fingers digging deep into the plush skin of your ass as he pressed his face into your cunt. You cried out his name loud, hips jerking up as his tongue glided between your folds--if his neighbors hadn’t known what the two of you were up to already, they certainly did now, but Cyno was far too drunk on the taste of you to care.

God, he had missed this, you were intoxicating to him--from the first time he had ever tasted you, he knew he was a goner. Cyno sucked gently on your clit, relishing in the way your body shuddered, in the way your thighs clamped down around his head. Your hand found his hair, fingers intertwining with the strands, tugging so hard that it had him moaning into your cunt.

Distantly, he realized he couldn’t breathe but he wasn’t sure he entirely cared--buried in your cunt, suffocating between your legs… Cyno figured there wasn’t a better way to go. You pushed him down harder, and Cyno hummed, nose pressed against your clit as he lapped at your release.

You had the prettiest pussy, Cyno was sure of that--heavenly to taste and even more heavenly wrapped tight around his cock. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed his tongue into you, eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of your walls spasming around his tongue.

“Cyno,” you were pretty much sobbing his name as you tugged at his hair, “Cyno, feels s’good.”

Your words only spurred him on more, groaning as he fucked his tongue in and out of you, flicking it over your clit, tracing circles between your folds. You were squirming in his hold, hips grinding up against his face, back arching against his desk.

He had missed this, the words rang through his head on repeat, recalling all of the lonely nights he had spent out in the desert longing for your touch, your warmth, playing memories of you over and over again in his head as he fucked his fist, chanting your name like a prayer to the gods. He was certain he could spend forever buried between your thighs--damn the Akademiya, damn the Mahamata, damn all of his responsibilities as General Mahamatra, so long as he had his lips sealed around your clit or his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, he would die a happy man.

“Cyno, ‘m gunna cum,'' you pulled hard at his hair, and he wasn’t sure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer. His teeth grazed your clit lightly and that was all it took to have you crying out his name, body spasming against the desk as you came all over his face.

Cyno let out a muffled moan into your cunt as he lapped up your cum, sure not to let a single drop fall to the hardwood desk.

You were still trembling in the aftershocks of your orgasm and Cyno was still half-drunk off of the taste of you when he forced himself to his feet, only hesitating for a split second before he lifted you into his arms to bring you over to the bed.

Laying you down gently before following you onto the bed, he hovered above you, pressing his lips to your forehead and then to your nose.

You giggled softly. “What about your report?” you asked.

“I’ll finish it in the morning,” he murmured, nipping your cheek. “Right now, all I want is you.”

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #cyno x you #genshin x you

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jackie-q · 25 days

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Batfam in BNHA

Me: Wait, if the Bats exist here then why haven't they dealt with All For One yet?

Batkids: Uhh...

Jason: Dickhead!

Dick: Don't 'Dickhead' me! I was out of the country when the case came in! Tim said he and Dami had it under control.

Damian: I stepped out for a momentary break, Drake assured me he had it handled.

Dick, Jason, Damian: *zero in on Tim*

Tim, sweating: Uh... I went out for a coffee break!

Jason:

Dick:

Damian:

Dick: ...Timmy... Did you forget to do the case?

Tim: ...It was a lapse of judgement!

#tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #bnha #all for one #dc #batbros #batfamily #incorrect quotes #batfam incorrect quotes

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eksvaized · 1 month

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Part Seven König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01, @mizu-bozu, @pinkslaystation

As the first rays of daylight gently filter into the room, you slowly awaken, your eyes fluttering open. Yet, the sheer intensity of the vibrant morning sun proves overwhelming, causing you to instinctively shield your face with your arm. It’s as if a spotlight has been directed straight at you, momentarily blinding you and making it challenging to adapt to the sudden burst of brightness.

Slowly, the sun’s rays pierce through the window, gradually filling the room with a stifling heat. As you lie under the layered blanket, you can feel the warmth seeping into the fabric. The sensation of being wrapped in the blanket is akin to being enclosed in a suffocating woolen coat during the hottest days of summer, compelling you to forcefully remove it and toss it aside. A sigh of relief escapes from your lips as you do so.

You lie there for a moment longer, allowing yourself to adjust to the temperature and bask in the comforting stillness that only the early morning hours can bring. However, this moment of peace is shattered when you blink a few more times, forcing your eyes to adjust to the light. As your gaze roams the space, drinking in the details of the unfamiliar surroundings, it eventually settles on the bed you’re laying in. More specifically, it settles on the sleeping figure. Simon. He’s laying there, right next to you. Lightly snoring, he has his back turned to you, completely undisturbed by your sudden awakening and the turmoil of emotions that have come with it.

Fragments of last night’s memories seep into your mind like tendrils of fog curling around your thoughts. You recall the moment you kissed Simon. And he kissed you back. Yet, a single kiss was not enough. It failed to quench the overwhelming desire that had been steadily accumulating over the many months. Nor did it manage to diffuse the palpable electric tension that had settled between you two, like an unspoken challenge waiting to be met. Even the heated make-out session that followed, a whirlwind of passion and urgency, did not satiate your shared need.

Like a starved man, Simon impatiently clawed at your clothes. He tugged at the fabric insistently, as if each second you remained clothed was a second wasted. He peeled away it all, leaving you bare and vulnerable before you could fully comprehend the gravity of what was happening. His hands, coarse yet gentle, began a deliberate exploration of your body. His fingers traced the contours of your curves. They dug into your flesh, as if trying to etch every inch of you to memory. In that moment, you were damned—you were aware of his intentions, and yet, you found yourself unwilling, or perhaps unable, to put a stop to it…

In a vain attempt to clear the tumultuous clutter that is your mind, you slowly close your eyes, permitting the darkness to envelop you. You draw in a long, deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, holding it there for three agonizingly long seconds. As you hold your breath, you feel the tick of each second, each one seeming longer than the one before. The world, with all its noise and chaos, comes to a standstill. Eventually, you allow yourself to exhale, releasing the air in a slow, controlled manner, trying to mimic the calm you so desperately seek.

You sternly tell yourself, almost commanding your mind, not to think about it. You must forget what happened; it was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment that you can’t afford to repeat. You try to convince yourself that it was just a moment of weakness, a one-off aberration that doesn’t mean anything. But deep inside, in the corners of your heart, you can’t help but not regret it—it’s a paradox, a silent war between your mind and heart.

Turning your head, your gaze falls on Simon. In his sleep, he rolls over, his heavy arm sneaking around your waist. With a slight tug, he pulls you closer to him. There’s a serene expression on his face, as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your shoulder. In this quiet moment, you suddenly become aware of the fact that your clothes are discarded somewhere in the living room.

You try to extract yourself from Simon’s embrace, intending to retrieve your clothes and dress up, but he stirs in his slumber. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. His grip tightens around your body, drawing you back into the bed. With a sigh of resignation, you allow yourself to settle back against him. Your body naturally gravitates towards his, like two magnets drawn together. Your tension, once as rigid as a tightly strung bow, melts away under the gentle caress of his fingertips, dancing over your skin. It’s a delicate touch that sends shivers down your spine. His hand then settles on your hip. Despite the guilt and shame, that gnaws at your conscience—a lingering aftermath of your actions—you find a sense of comfort and security nestled in Simon’s embrace.

You don’t have your phone, but you’re sure it’s flooded with messages and missed calls from König. He’s likely wondering where you are, considering you left without a word. The thought that he may have spent a sleepless night worrying about you crosses your mind, sending a pang of guilt through your heart. But you try your best to push it away, choosing instead to focus on Simon, on the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the soft rhythm of his breathing.

After another hour of waiting, Simon finally wakes up. He unwinds his arms from your waist and rolls onto his back, yawning. You stand up, pulling the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around your shoulders. Despite the room being heated more than necessary, you don’t care. A sudden wave of modesty washes over you, prompting an unexpected desire to hide yourself from his gaze. This feeling strikes you as somewhat absurd. Especially considering that after the events of yesterday, there is barely anything left to hide—he has seen it all.

You tiptoe out of the bedroom to the living room, clutching the blanket around you. A moment later, footsteps follow you. Simon leans against the doorway, his eyes fixed on you. He watches as you dress with an unreadable expression on his face. You find yourself grateful for his consideration in putting on a pair of loose sweatpants.

Despite this, you can’t help but catch glimpses of his bare chest, your eyes fixated on the way his muscles ripple with every movement. As you steal these quick, furtive glances, your cheeks flush, getting brighter and brighter each time.

“About last night...” Your voice cuts through the silence, shattering the silence like a stone through glass. You speak up since neither of you have dared to say anything yet. “Us. Together. It was a one-time thing. We can’t... we shouldn’t repeat what happened. Ever again.”

Simon makes no objections. He simply nods, accepting your words without argument. His unexpected silence takes you aback, but you don’t question it. You are afraid that further discussion might change his mind or, worse, reveal more than what you’re prepared to confront.

You even make him promise. No, it’s actually more than that. It’s a vow — an unbreakable pact that Simon will not tell a soul about how you ended up in his bed. You want him to keep this secret, to forget about it all. Your greatest fear is for König to find out: it’s not that you regret sleeping with Simon, but… but you also don’t want to lose König. It’s a selfish thought—wanting to have them both—but you decide this is a problem for another day. For now, you don’t want to be forced into making a choice. The fear of making the wrong one scares you.

* * *

As you return home, the quietness of the house engulfs you. You pull off your shoes, throwing them off to the corner. The erratic rhythm of your heart, pounding like a drum in your chest, echoes in your ears, amplifying the stillness surrounding you. You find König in the kitchen. His eyes are fixated on something outside the window. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. It’s a dreadful gnawing sensation that refuses to subside as you tentatively follow his gaze.

Your eyes land on the house across the street—Simon’s house. The sight of it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the morning chill. Could König have seen you leaving? Your breath catches in your throat, a lump forming that you find difficult to swallow. You stand there, frozen, rooted to the spot, your mind buzzing with a million thoughts, a million possibilities.

But you force yourself to regain your composure, to steady your hands that have unconsciously started to tremble. After all, you hadn’t brazenly strutted out through the front door; you had been careful, meticulously so. You had snuck through Simon’s backyard, even taking a meandering route around the neighbourhood, winding through side streets and alleyways, before daring to step foot in your own home.

Your attention shifts to König’s hands. He’s fiddling with his phone, his fingers brushing over the screen absentmindedly. Even from where you’re standing, you can see your image displayed on his screen, your name and number underneath. You contemplate retreating, thinking a shower might buy you some time before you have to face him, talk with him. But just as you’re about to slip back into the shadows, he senses your presence, like a predator catching the scent of its prey.

His head swivels towards you with a jerk, his eyes widening in surprise at your sudden appearance. The phone slips from his grasp, clattering onto the countertop. His reflex response is to pull you into a steel-trap embrace, his hold so unyieldingly tight that you fear your ribs might splinter under the pressure. His hands roam over your body, running over every inch as if he’s assessing for any signs of injury. It’s an instinctive need to ensure you’re alright. Then, his palms cradle your face, gently tilting your head from one side to the other.

Eventually, König pulls away. The deep lines of worry etched in his features slowly fade away as he realises you’re unharmed. Fine, perfectly fine.

He finally breaks the silence. “Where have you been?” His voice is low, tinged with a harshness you rarely hear.

“Out.”

Clearly unsatisfied with your evasive response, he presses further. A sense of urgency creeping into his voice. “Where?” Despite his insistent questioning, you remain silent.

He launches into a barrage of inquiries, a torrent of words that batter against your defenses. Each question is met with either your silence or brief, vague responses. You’re afraid that if you say too much, you’ll trip over your own web of lies.

“... and you didn’t think you should tell me, or at least take your phone with you?” He asks.

You respond with a simple shake of your head.

As König continues to push, to probe, to accuse, you feel your patience wearing thin, slowly being eroded like a cliff under the relentless assault of the sea. The familiar heat of anger begins to simmer within you. You want to retaliate, to shout back, to let loose the torrent of words that have been building up within you. You want to confess that you had called Sarah, to accuse him of cheating, to hurl the same accusations that have been ricocheting around your skull like bullets in a steel drum. But you hold back, biting down on your tongue, the metallic taste of restraint filling your mouth. You want to prevent this argument from spiralling into a full-blown fight, from escalating into a war of words that neither of you would win.

Because, as much as you hate to admit it, you aren’t oblivious to the bitter irony of the situation — you are no different from König. You had accused him of cheating, of betraying your trust, of being the villain… Yet, here you stand, guilty of the same crime.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #writing #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod #ghost x y/n #call of duty #ghost cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konigxghostxreader #konig cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #fem!reader #ao3 fanfic

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allthedoorsareopennow · 1 month

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Incomplete collection of Marius lore

suggestions for additions are welcome, but it MUST HAVE A SOURCE

overview

He is the ship’s medic[1]/ship’s doctor[3], plays fiddle and has a mechanised right arm[1].

backstory

He is neither a baron nor a doctor[3][5]; ‘Baron’ is a corruption of his original name, Byron von Raum[2][5].

Marius has a sister called Dorothea, and they were raised by a single nonbinary parent. Marius doesn’t remember their name or face, and knows them only as Zeze[6].

It is strongly implied that Marius was not mechanised by Dr Carmilla [7].

Marius is 5’5 and very skinny. This is apparently because he came from a world that is ‘somewhat medieval in its nutrition levels’ and Marius was not a healthy child. [14]

He piloted a mecha called KISMET. She was 5-6 storeys tall and slightly insectoid, like a dragonfly or butterfly. [17]

‘The control pod’s entirely in the head, which allows the internal control rig to right itself like a ball bearing, keeping the pilot upright whether she’s standing on the ground, hovering, flying horizontally, banking sharply or even rolling.’ [17]

The mecha is not meelee-oriented. [17]

time with the mechanisms

Drumbot Brian said that ‘given that we're immortal and don't need a doctor, it's the job we're most comfortable giving Marius, and it keeps him busy’ and also that he ‘frequently tries to psychoanalyze inanimate objects’ [5]

His mechanism was ‘probably botched’ and he has a ‘tenuous grasp on reality’[2]

According to Jonny, he grew a beard presumably around 08/02/2014 ‘almost instantaneously, and without warning’ and was apparently ‘very upset’ and ‘said he’d been holding it in for decades and just that momentary lapse of concentration as I kneecapped him had ruined all his hard work’[8]

He once dressed up as the Toy Soldier for a halloween concert [9]

Drumbot Brian once responded to someone asking how the mechanisms were by describing marius as ‘mad’[10]

The Aurora describes Marius as ‘the broken doctor’ [16]

songs/albums

He had a planned lecture on the psyche of the olympians, but this was cancelled[11]

He helped Ashes install at a minimum the camera in Ulysses’ vault in UDAD, though he does not remember this[4]

Apparently, ‘Marius spent his time on Fort Galfridian sitting at the porthole for days staring into the sun because he didn't realise it was supposed to be unbearable, and now the Ghouls think he's some sort of prophet’ [12]

In The Bifrost Incident, Marius does not know where he got the violin - in fact, he doesn’t even realise he’s holding it until Lyf points it out [15]

death

Marius was always skeptical of the crew’s immortality and was less surprised to meet his end. ‘One day, at something of a loose end, he will decide to check on the octokittens. Unfortunately, the purring horde has not been fed in many decades, and devours him, head to toe, in 11.7 seconds.’ [13]

Jonny is implied to have already witnessed Marius’ death before the final concert; he says ‘11.7 seconds. At least, by my watch.’ [13]

In Marius’ death, tunes from ‘Blood and Whiskey’ and ‘Favoured Son’ can be heard [13].

[1] Mechanisms Marius von Raum Available at: https://themechanisms.com/the-crew/marius-von-raum/ Last accessed: 11/01/24

[2] Young (2020) Future Projects: The Death of Byron von Raum (spoiler free) Available at: https://kofiyoung.com/2020/07/25/future-projects-the-death-of-byron-von-raum-spoiler-free/ Last accessed: 11/01/24

[3] Revenge of Spaceport Mahon

[4] Mechanisms Eskhatos Available at: https://themechanisms.com/fiction/eskhatos/ Last accessed: 11/01/24

[5] Below (2013) Why do immortals need a ship doctor? Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/the-mechanisms/58736308596/why-do-immortals-need-a-ship-doctor-i-need-an Last accessed: 11/01/24

[6] Young (2023) Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/neitherabaron/727612334921678848/holding-checklist-titled-qualities-to-kill Last accessed: 11/01/24

[7] Rasputina (2013) Where'd you folks pick up Marius and Raphiella? Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/the-mechanisms/58960694562/whered-you-folks-pick-up-marius-and-raphiella Last accessed: 11/01/24

[8] Sims (2014) Ingratitude Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/the-mechanisms/75995731661/ingratitude Last accessed: 11/01/24

[9] wickedacephotos (2013) The Mechanisms at The Cellar, 29 Oct 2013, for Halloween with Polar Patterns Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/wickedacephotos/65528149745/wickedacephotos-the-mechanisms-at-the-cellar Last accessed: 11/01/24

[10] Below (2013) Hooray for questions! Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/the-mechanisms/58734952128/i-apologize-that-i-didnt-ask-a-question-to-make Last accessed: 12/01/24

[11] The Mechanisms Ulysses Dies at Dawn Available at: https://themechanisms.bandcamp.com/album/ulysses-dies-at-dawn Last accessed: 12/01/24

[12] thedreadvampy (2020) Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/thedreadvampy/624522490768736256/i-feel-like-i-should-clarify-because-it-does-at Last accessed: 12/01/24

[13] The Mechanisms (2020) Death to the Mechanisms Available at: https://themechanisms.bandcamp.com/album/death-to-the-mechanisms Last accessed: 12/01/24

[14] thedreadvampy (2020) Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/thedreadvampy/630817295229468672/so-i-am-absolutely-going-to-go-draw-tim-with Last accessed: 12/01/24

[15] thedreadvampy (2020) Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/thedreadvampy/631436135234699264/you-dont-need-to-awnser-this-because-i-am-lore Last accessed: 12/01/24

[16] themechanisms A Bedtime Story Available at: https://themechanisms.com/fiction/ghost-in-the-machine/ Last accessed: 06/03/24

[17] Young (2023) Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/neitherabaron/708247931183153152 Last accessed: 11/04/24

To do:

not yet added Marius’ dttm dialogue

may add more detail to what is contained in expert testimony

could probably add detail on things seen doing in photos, e.g. Marius playing rock paper scissors with TS. (are photoshoots canon? I assume so)

[3] missing a link

wow did I really miss pilchard. I will Get To It at some point maybe

does anyone have the his arm is like a fungus post link handy

perhaps more backstory info from byron

https://x.com/neitherabaron/status/1231124594544783361?s=20

https://x.com/neitherabaron/status/1231604579529302018?s=20

numbers are ordered mostly in when I added the source rather than order of appearance as I have moved things around a lot. as above this is very incomplete and I don’t have the willpower to update this now maybe I will later. I’m just uploading it now since someone wanted marius lore

#doors.txt #the mechanisms #marius von raum

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ihavemanyhusbands · 2 months

Text

Slow Days

Also on AO3

Relationships: Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader, Abigail Hobbs & Fem!Reader (Platonic), Hannibal and Abigail are also platonic.

Summary: Prelude to "Kiss of The Angel of Death" // In the time leading up to The Mizumono Incident ™️, only semi-aware of your fates, you and Abigail decide to make the best of things.

WC: 2.9k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI, ANGSTTTTT (this one hurts), no happy ending, mentions of death, corrupted reader, lmk if anything is missing!

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Rain pattered softly against the window as you moved around the kitchen, making breakfast. You flipped pancakes and checked on the bacon, humming a little to yourself. The house was quiet and most of the lights were off. Hannibal had been out since earlier that morning, so you’d been alone with the silence for a few hours.

On cloudy mornings, you usually let Abigail sleep in. When it was cold, she’d be burrowed so sweetly beneath her quilt, her features finally smooth from all concerns. You couldn’t bring yourself to rouse her from one of the only moments of true peace she had.

Since Hannibal had orchestrated her fake death and your disappearance, the two of you barely left the house and spent a lot of time hiding upstairs. He trusted only you when it came to her, so you grew close rather fast, tethered to each other like two buoys in a tempestuous sea.

She was like the sister you never had, and it felt oddly comforting to have a semblance of family. Even if you knew how fickle they could be.

While isolation wasn’t always easy, you could tell Abigail was enjoying having that time to lay low. Every day, you strived to make things more bearable for her, and therefore more bearable for yourself. Both of you had things to miss, entire lives that had vanished at once. It was one of the things you’d bonded over.

But it wasn’t all misery between you, happier memories eventually surfacing as well. It was during those bouts of nostalgia that you learned the most about who she really was.

Abigail liked her pancakes fluffy and her bacon crispy. She also liked lavender tea to calm her nerves, and finding random shapes in the clouds. She was quite cunning, often wise beyond her years. She had already seen too much, known too much, and you were well aware of the burden of knowledge.

Her respite was the forest – that silent, labyrinthine fortress. The only place she knew how to completely blend in. She would often scan the trees and listen for deer, standing completely still. She had the patience of a hunter, but excitement could get the best of her.

Recently, she had stopped hiding the scar on her neck at all times. She let herself smile more often, her features opening, blue eyes crystalline with mirth. Even if it was the beginning of winter, she sometimes reminded you of a flower in bloom.

“Good morning,” you heard the sleepy rasp of her voice as she stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, that smells so good.”

You smiled, plating some food as she yawned and stretched her arms over her head, like a cat in a patch of sunlight.

“Sleep well, I take it?” you said, handing her the plate.

“Yeah, I didn’t dream again,” she said, pouring maple syrup all over her pancakes. “Or maybe I did, but I just don’t remember. Kind of sad isn’t it?”

“How so?”

“Well, when I was a kid I used to believe dreams were exciting. Like, an adventure of sorts, where I could do anything, go anywhere,” she shrugged. “But of course it’s never that simple. I didn’t consider how little control I’d have over them.”

“Such is life, right?” you said.

“Yes. We barely have control of anything, really.” She glanced around cautiously. “Just us today?”

“Yep. Just us,” you confirmed, pouring hot water into two mugs. “He might be back for dinner, he said, but he wasn’t sure. There’s been… A lot of movement at Quantico.”

The two of you shared a long, significant look. You lapsed into a momentary silence, one that weighed on you heavily. Both of you were fully aware of Hannibal’s plans, but seldom did you want to give voice to it. There would be no point to it, other than tormenting yourselves.

Life seemed the most ephemeral when you were walking the tightrope. Every gust of wind and tick of the clock bringing the inevitable closer to you. Were you supposed to find happiness in that?

As impossible as it seemed, you were at least determined to try. You sat across from her, nudging the food on your plate with your fork but not eating quite yet.

“I’m not sure the rain’s gonna stop today,” you said, changing the subject. “What do you want to do?”

“Actually.” She smiled mischievously. “I think I’d like to feel the rain. What do you say?”

You were about to argue about the strong possibility of a cold, but it suddenly felt worth the risk. A runny nose should be the least of your worries, anyway.

You nodded, smiling softly. “We’ll sit by the fire after.”

Abigail ate quickly and eagerly, barely talking. Her excitement was infectious, making you feel jittery. As soon as she took her last bite, she sprang out of her chair.

“Last one out the door has to wash the dishes!” She exclaimed, dashing off.

Your chair scraped loudly as you stood, following after her. “Hey, not fair! I cooked today!”

The melody of her laughter trailed out into the downpour. You hesitated at the threshold, one last moment to steel your nerves, and then ran out.

The rain was an icy shock that made you gasp, but elation still filled you. You couldn’t help a hysteric squeal once breath re-entered your lungs, your whole body shivering.

Abigail had her arms spread to the sides, face turned towards the sky and eyes closed. Her dark hair was already slick against her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

You mimicked her stance, eyelids twitching as raindrops pattered against your face. The world disappeared for a moment, yet your body was firmly rooted to the earth.

You wondered what she saw, if anything, in the blue darkness of her eyelids. The water felt like a blessing, cleansing the two of you from all impurities; Every sin, transgression, and rotten notion.

At least, that’s what you hoped would happen.

You turned to her, tapping her arm quickly before hurrying out of her reach, yelling, “You’re it!”

She chased after you, the two of you quickly becoming clumsier as your clothes were weighed down by the water. Soon it was just running for the sake of it, weaving around trees, laughing and screaming like girls at a schoolyard.

After a while, when the cold got too unbearable, you made your way back inside and hurried to the laundry room. Then you, dutiful as ever, took care of drying the wooden floors while Abigail went to ready the fireplace with kindling.

Your teeth were still chattering as you joined her, handing her a towel for her hair. You wore one of Hannibal’s shirts, which reached a little past your knees. Abigail had changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, rubbing her arms as she watched the flame start to take.

“Completely worth it,” you said, adding a small log to the hearth.

When the fire finally grew to a full blaze, you and Abigail extended your legs in front of it. Slowly, color was returning to her face, flushing her cheeks a deep pink. The heat began to spread as you gently toweled your hair.

“I’m glad we did it,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve felt like that in a while.”

“Felt how?”

“Alive.”

You said nothing, watching as she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. It seemed the rain had been cathartic after all, and the dam inside her was close to breaking.

“I’ve wondered a lot if I even deserve to be.” She stared into the hearth pensively, orange light dancing in her eyes. “I am no saint, you know.”

“I’m not one either,” you said. “And yet here we are, just as worthy as anyone else. Wanting to take back the things you’ve done is pointless. It’s just a way to torture yourself.”

She shook her head slowly, and you could tell she was too far gone to listen. Her chest hitched with her shortening breaths.

“I feel like Lady Macbeth,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I can’t seem to wash the blood off my hands.”

Her shoulders shook and you saw tears drip onto her palms. You drew her into an embrace, her head against your chest as she let out a sob.

“But I don’t really want to die either,” she murmured, her voice tremulous and thick with tears.

You bit down your own sorrow, opting to comfort her instead. You couldn’t even promise her that everything would be okay, for that would be false hope. If there was one thing you could give Abigail, it was the absolute truth, always. It was an unspoken agreement between you.

You let her cry it out, holding her all the while. In the time you’d known her, she had only cried one other time. To carry so much was an arduous task, and you admired the strength she had for someone so young.

In many ways, she reminded you of yourself, though you were much more forgiving when it came to her.

“Do you want more tea?” You whispered as she started to calm down.

She nodded, squeezing your arm in appreciation. You kissed the top of her head, smoothing down her hair and disentangled yourself from her to hand her a tissue box.

“I’ll take care of the dishes, by the way,” she said softly, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a tissue.

You waved her off, the barest of smiles on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. Though maybe you could help me make dinner later?”

She nodded, giving you a watery smile in return. “Thank you.”

——————

By supper time, Hannibal still wasn’t back, which was a blessing at the moment. He had called briefly to let you know he’d be back closer to midnight, and you’d vowed to stay up to wait.

Abigail’s batteries were drained, so after a shower and a long nap, she helped you make a hearty potato and leek soup. She seemed in slightly better spirits, back to her teasing self.

It made you feel slightly more relieved, and thus it seemed to render you more open. It was while the two of you smoothly moved around each other in the kitchen that you shared more stories from your own cloudy past.

The words spilled from your lips like a river — a sinner’s hasty confession in the face of damnation. You’d never pretended to be otherwise, of course, but there was a lot you hadn’t spoken of in a very, very long time. Your eyes stung, but you did not cry.

She listened attentively, mostly staying quiet. She knew just as well that this was a rarity, and all she could do was offer the same support you’d offered her. You loved her all the more for it.

“Can I ask you something?” She said over the rushing sink water, peering over at you sideways as she scrubbed her dish.

You nodded, and she continued. “Despite everything… You’ve already made your choice, haven’t you? You’ve chosen him.”

Immediately, you knew the question wasn’t about her. She already had her answer about that, despite never actually having spoken about it.

“Over what?” You countered casually, thinking of Will’s tender gaze whenever he looked at you.

She gave you a pointed look, eyebrows raised, and you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the counter.

“I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you said. “At least with Hannibal, there will never be betrayal. He will always be who he is.”

She said nothing, and that was answer enough.

Shortly after dinner, Abigail retired for the night, leaving you to your vigil for Hannibal’s return. You lay down on a couch in the living room, reading. Anxiety kept you glancing at the door repeatedly, the night seemingly growing darker and longer.

It was well after midnight when you finally heard the faint rumble of his car’s engine out front. You’d made sure to turn all the lights off except for the lamp beside you, which would be a sign for him to come investigate. His footsteps were nearly silent as he made his way to the living room, and suddenly he appeared in the doorway, unsurprised to find you up.

You smiled tentatively, seeing the exhaustion on his face despite his mask of composure, and his features softened some.

“How was your day?” You asked.

“I’d much rather hear about yours,” he sighed, taking off his coat and throwing it over the back of an armchair.

The rain still droned on outside, although less intense than earlier. He sat next to you, his knee touching yours as he faced you. You recounted some of the day's events, omitting the conversations you’d had with Abigail. Secrecy was another sacred thing between you, and there were lines you would not cross.

Hannibal took your hand, gently squeezing it. “I am glad you two have had each other during this time. I know it has not been easy.”

A slight inclination of his head told you he acknowledged his role in that. You squeezed his hand in return, searching his face. There was no remorse, but perhaps the slightest flicker of guilt.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” You asked, uncertainty and dread like a knife at your throat.

“I was with Will, at my office,” he sighed heavily. “We spoke…Formulated a plan of sorts.”

He seemed to want to say more, but stopped himself. His uncertainty was very much apparent, and fear threatened to grip you like a vice. His nose detected this spike in adrenaline. His eyes met yours and he held your gaze steadily.

“And how did he seem?” You asked, willing your voice not to quaver too much.

Hannibal considered the question for a moment. “I suppose not much different than his usual self. Though I am not entirely sure I am comforted by that.”

You nodded in agreement. “He is a very cunning man. I used to think I was good at reading his moods,” your gaze drifted towards the wall and beyond, into the middle distance. “The more I think about it now, the less I’m sure I wasn’t deluding myself into seeing what I wanted to see.”

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, seeing the torment written across your face. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to try and remedy it, but he was not quite sure how. After all, the weight of your future rested in his hands just as much as Will’s.

But he found that he was willing to break his own heart, and yours, if only it meant ensuring your safety. He swallowed hard, keeping himself together.

“You could get a head start, leave as soon as tomorrow night,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “I would meet you after, as soon as I’m able to…”

Your eyes widened and for a moment you were speechless with appalment. The shock was so great it made you only vaguely realize that Abigail wasn’t included in this offer.

But then you set your shoulders, straightening your back, and determination seemed to replace your anguish.

“Absolutely not!” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument. “My place is here, and I will be staying right here. I will see it through to the end, Hannibal.”

The set of his jaw told you he wanted to argue further about why it would be the best choice, but you could tell he was also relieved. He looked down at your hands, fingers still tightly woven together.

“I could not forgive myself, if I lost you,” he said softly.

You reached up to cup one side of his face, and he leaned into your touch. He kissed the palm of your hand and the inside of your wrist. You realized he was reassuring himself just as much as you, grounding himself with your presence.

“You won’t,” you said, without a hint of doubt. “So, then, what’s next?”

“I have invited Jack over for dinner,” he said steadily, though his words were heavy with implication. “Talk to him, see what he knows.”

Your face remained blank, but you knew Jack Crawford wouldn’t come by for just a chat. Hannibal knew that too, but perhaps not speaking about it would stall it for just a bit longer. At least, you both tried to convince yourselves that would be the case.

“When?” You asked.

“Friday.”

That was only two days away. The back of your throat was bitter with unshed tears, but the longer you kept eye contact with him, the more you could steel your nerves.

“What are you thinking of making?”

“Lamb,” He said.

The two of you shared a smile, still able to find some humor. But the next question was harder for you to ask, and you cleared your throat.

“Do you think Will is going to join?”

This was a blow he could not soften. “I hardly believe he’ll want to miss out.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well…” you said, looking up at the ceiling, in the direction of Abigail’s room. “At least we’ll all get to say goodbye.”

But your naïve heart still floundered, holding onto hope. But perhaps we won’t even have to say goodbye. One way or another, maybe we will all still be together in the end.

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fanfiction #mizumono fanfiction #hannibal lecter fanfiction #minors DNI #abigail hobbs fanfiction

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aloneinthehellfire · 5 months

Text

Chapter Twelve: Down The Rabbit Hole

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 11k (the struggle was real)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, horror, gore

[A/N: immensely shocked at myself for finishing this chapter but ultimately that means there are some reallyyyy good bits and some that… I hate the ending but I wrote it five different ways and this is just word vomit now. We will be back with more GOH after the new year but until then, I hope everyone has a good festive period <;3]

Down The Rabbit Hole

White walls. Red blood. Green Eyes.

The same nightmare crept up on you again, raising your heart rate and jolting you awake. This time hadn’t been any clearer than the last, no matter how hard you tried to look for more clues, to escape. But it ended the same it always did; with those glowing green eyes.

You blink against the darkness, hearing soft snores and breathing in the space around you. Everyone else was sleeping, only Joyce and Hopper not to be seen. They must be on patrol.

When you look to your right, you notice a familiar head of hair in the cot beside you, facing the wall with steady breaths. Part of you wanted to wake him then, pull him into all of your spiraling thoughts. But that was selfish.

Holding your breath, you make as little sound as possible as you slip out of the bed, containing a wince when a pain shoots up your ankle. An unfriendly reminder of your fate. You hadn’t bothered taking your sneakers off when you slept, part of you worrying that something would have you rushing out of bed at a moment’s notice.

Thankfully, the door was quiet as you closed it behind you, taking a deep breath in an empty room. New maps were sprawled across the table now, different markings. Places Hopper was going to search in a dangerous setting all because you had a theory.

It was all too much to be thinking about now. Rather than stay, you head up a few measly steps and exit the ‘bunker’, finding yourself back in what you assumed to be a control room. The room was cast in a red light, the source held behind a long panel of glass.

The gate, while terrifying, was also strangely beautiful. It looked alive, if anything, thrumming in calm bursts of crimson lights, a few white particles scattering the air in front of it. You thought it almost looked peaceful as you leaned with your arms against a metal railing, noting the door that would lead you to the gate on a lower level.

What would be the last thing you saw? It was useless pretending like the virus wasn’t constantly in your mind. If you were to turn, where would it be? Would it hurt? Would you hurt someone? How would you avoid that?

You remembered how Holloway was barely human. You also recalled his momentary lapse of weakness, a glimmer of the man you once called a teacher. Did that mean he was still in there, in no control of his own body? And, if that were to happen to you, could you really live with yourself if you killed the ones you loved?

A heavy thought for an April morning.

The creak of the door caught your attention. You glance over to see the boy you survived four days with closing the door behind him, running a hand through his hair. Even with a bed-head, he might be the most godly guy you’ve seen.

“Sorry. Was I loud?” You wince but he’s quick to dismiss it.

“No, no. I… I tried falling asleep but, uh, haven’t managed to do that in a while, you know?”

You merely nod, returning your attention back to the gate as he joins you, mirroring your own stance.

Steve takes a long look at the gate in front of him. This was the very thing that started all his problems, ruined his life. Although, he supposed he was already doing that himself before he could redeem that part he had kept hidden away. And that wasn’t until the gate had spewed out a grey faceless monster. Funny, how he could be grateful for an alternate dimension when it was the birth of an apocalypse on the town he called home.

His eyes eventually shift to yours, his gaze softening. You looked tired, worn from everything you’ve been through over the past four days. He can tell you didn’t sleep much either. He could also tell you were overthinking something in the way your tongue was pressed against your bottom lip.

“Are you okay?”

You meet his stare and he almost feels himself melting. He had followed you out here for a reason, and now he was paying the price of nerves attacking him. He really hoped you couldn’t notice the red he felt creeping up his neck against the already rouge light.

“I wish someone would have dragged me into this sooner.” You sigh and he looks surprised. “I get my dad was just trying to protect me but… I can’t help thinking how different everything would be if someone just told me. Maybe… maybe I wouldn’t have been in detention in the first place.”

“Maybe.” He agrees quietly, fidgeting with his hands, “I’m glad you were, though.”

Your eyes flash towards his with a confused scrunch of your brows. “Why?”

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had to go through this alone.” He admits, avoiding your eyes by turning back to face the window. “It was nice, having someone there. Even if we, uh, hate eachother.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m kinda glad you were there, too. Even, yeah, even if we are sworn enemies.”

“Y/n.”

He finally looks at you and you patiently wait for whatever he has to say. The longer it takes, the stranger you feel, like a growing pit of anticipation, both good and bad. You watch as he struggles with the words, like he couldn’t choose or he genuinely didn’t know what to say, his lips forming them in small twitches but never speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

You didn’t realise how close you were until you felt his shoulder brush against yours as he shifted to lean on one arm, looking at you, expecting a response.

“I…” You try, searching his eyes for some kind of hint that this was all a joke. But it was genuine. So genuine, you found yourself lost in his gaze, fighting the idea that you never wanted to leave it. “You don’t?”

“I thought I did.” He says, his voice merely a whisper. “But I meant what I said. I’m glad you were there at the beginning of all this. And… and I’m glad it was you.”

The sudden flutter in your chest was crumpled by the hand of anxiety, pulling you back down to earth, burning the incriminating evidence on your ankle as to why that hope you felt would never be. Timing was a cruel mistress.

“Steve…” You start, but he is already closer now, close enough to make you look at him.

“I don’t want us to hate eachother.” He says, and he meant it with every heartbeat in his chest, “I don’t… I don’t even know why it’s like this. The last four days just proved that I don’t have a single reason to hate you, Y/n. And… and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“I…” You hoped if you started talking, the words would just follow. But instead, they stay stuck in your throat in the same way your eyes never wavered from his brown ones. Those little gold flecks shone bright at you. You couldn’t do this to him.

“Do you hate me?” He asks, rearing himself closer. You catch his eyes dart to your lips and you hold your breath, your fingers unintentionally moving to his hand.

That delicious tingle of contact brushed against him, racing his heart across his body until he felt like it was over the moon, that painfully sweet anticipation of your lips against his…

But you pull your head away from his, your eyes squeezed shut.

“We can’t.” You whisper out, so quiet he thought he misheard you. He hoped he had, but he was so focused on your lips he knew each word as they left your mouth.

“Why?” Steve frowns softly, reaching out to take your hand in his, and you don’t snatch it away.

“Y/n… we don’t have to keep playing that stupid game high school made up for us. Okay? High school practically doesn’t even exist anymore-”

“There’s too many complications.” Your voice is strained, like you didn’t want to say it.

“Like what?” He looks at you for an answer, but you can’t meet his eyes. “Give me one good reason why, and I’ll go. Just don’t lie to me.”

“We haven’t spoken in years, Steve.” You finally look up at him and he can see the tears already pooling. “Not as friends, at least. I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know eachother. You don’t know me.”

“It doesn’t change how I feel.” He says and you so badly wanted to grab him and kiss him until all the pain went away, all your issues and burdens, the entire world if nothing at all. But you can’t. What if you committed to this and it all blew up in your face? What if it ended quicker than it began?

“I’m sorry.” You finally say, stepping back and wiping a tear. He doesn’t let you go. “Steve-”

“You claim I don’t know you. That I haven’t had enough time to.” He starts, concern marking his eyes. “But right now, I know you’re hiding something from me.”

Steve can’t believe that his past self was so adamant on hating you, returning your unkind favours with his own, battling out who could make the other’s life a living hell. It took an actual living hell to realise he was wrong. Without the distraction of high school, he was forced to admit his feelings. To himself. To you. The whole world was burning, but his biggest fear was that you wouldn’t like him the same way he has liked you all this time.

“Just tell me.” He pleads. “Y/n-”

“One of those things got me.” You finally blurt and he blinks, shaking his head.

“I don’t-”

“The demodog. At school.” You begin, gulping back the fear. It was time you admitted it to yourself. “When it was dragging me away… I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“What are you trying to say?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. He wants you to prove him wrong, tell a different fate.

“It bit me.” The words were heavy as they tumbled from your lips, hitting the air with a cold smack. “And I’m pretty sure I’m gonna turn into one of those things out there.”

Steve doesn’t speak, doesn’t move- breathe. It would have been funny to see Steve buffering if you hadn’t just admitted your death sentence.

“No.” He says plainly and you shut your eyes. “No, that’s not- no.”

Rather than speak, you slowly reach down and pull up the leg of your jeans, revealing the damned mark to him once and for all. His skin was getting paler as he followed the black veins snaking along your skin, like growing vines.

“No, that’s not poss-” He stops himself with a deep breath, stepping back and resting his hands on his head. “If it was- you would have turned by now if it was true. The others didn’t take that long, right? It’s not…”

“I don’t know how it works. I thought… maybe, it wasn’t affecting me. But the veins… look just like the ones they have. I… I don’t know how long I have left.”

“We’ll find something.” He suddenly says with a hardened face and posture. “A cure. There’s gotta be a way out of it.”

“I don’t think there is one.” You say, cutting him off when he tries to speak. “We don’t even know how long this virus takes, or if it affects people differently- we don’t have the time.”

“Maybe El knows something.” He suggests, but even he knew it was a long shot. He just couldn’t believe he had been laying in that bed figuring out how to tell you his feelings, thinking the worst you could say was that you didn’t feel the same way.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You’re quiet, shifting on your leg with your head low. Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“What- you… you expect me to just pretend like everything’s fine?” He exasperates, scrunching his face when you don’t respond. “No, Y/n, don’t- don’t just spring that on me and expect me not to help you.”

“They’re leaving today.” You finally speak, looking up at him with sad eyes. “They’ll head out to the school, go through a gate and try to survive while finding unknown evidence of my theory. If I’m wrong, then it was all for nothing. They could get hurt, or- or worse. And if I’m right… then what? How do we know they’ll be able to fight it? All of this while the kids are going to be listening in on every breath and every step, Joyce is gonna be wondering what to do if Hop never comes back, Jonathan- Mike is going to be scared for his life knowing his sister is down there. And then El… everyone already has so much weighing them down, so many things to be afraid of. I don’t even know if this bite is gonna do anything but I want them going in with clear heads, not constantly worrying about me.”

“Not even Robin?” He challenges, coming closer again. “Your dad?”

“Robin will be fine.” You say, convincing yourself. “And Hop… I can’t think about that right now.”

“Y/n-”

“No.” You snap, taking a deep breath when you realise how loud the word had slipped from your mouth. “Sorry. I just… even if I did tell him… what is he gonna do? What the hell are any of us gonna do? There isn’t a cure, or- or a way out. Either it’s fine and it doesn’t happen, or I’m gonna become one of those things. And… and I can’t become one of them. I can’t let my dad, you, anyone, watch me become one of those things.”

When you blink, a single tear catches and trails down your face. Steve places his hand on your cheek, gently wiping it away with his hand and you’re surprised by the contact, but you don’t pull away. He brings his other hand up until he’s cupping your face, a pained expression painting his own.

“I’m not letting that happen to you.” He whispers and you instinctively hold on to his arms.

Before you could utter another word, the startling creak of the lab door on the other side of the room catches your attention just as it’s thrown open, revealing wide eyes of the adults catching you in a moment.

Steve practically jumps away from you, assuming what he hoped was a casual pose and you tighten your lips.

Joyce is suppressing a smile, clocking Hopper’s hardened stare as his eyes flicker between you both.

“Hi, kids.” She smiles.

“Hey.” You respond, ignoring Steve’s flushed look. “How was the patrol?”

“I’m moving your beds.” Hopper states and Joyce rolls her eyes.

“He’s kidding.” She says as she steers him away from you both and towards the bunker door.

“He’s not.” Hopper grumbles but eventually gives in with a sigh. “We’re about to get everyone up and ready, we’ll need you both for this meeting.”

“We’ll be there.” You nod and he lets out another sigh.

“Come on.” Joyce teases, opening the door and stepping through.

Before Hopper followed, he paused with one hand holding the metal door open. “Oh, and Steve?”

“Yes, sir?” Steve suddenly straightens and your eyes widen in amusement.

“Three feet away from my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.” He takes a big step back away from you and Hopper hums in approval, finally shutting the door behind him.

Despite the tension still lingering in the air, almost-kisses and heartbreaking-declarations, you started to laugh.

“What?” Steve frowns, the tips of his ears bright red.

“Nothing.” You giggle still, shaking your head in disbelief. “Never thought my dad would ever be worried about me and Steve Harrington. It’s… god, it’s funny.”

“He’s scary when he’s like that.” Steve mutters and you have to walk away before you laugh any harder. “Where are you going?”

“To this meeting before Hop comes back and asks for your head on a stick.”

With that, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, nodding viciously.

“Yep, yep, one hundred percent with you there.” And he steps forward before pausing.

“What is it?” You raise your eyebrow and he scans the floor between you, making you groan. “Are you seriously staying three feet away from me right now?”

“He could be watching.” He whispers and you roll your eyes.

“God, you’re such a coward.”

“Better a coward than thrown in jail for the rest of my life.”

“He can’t do that- oh for god’s sake.” You move quicker than he can react and place your hand on his shoulders. He tenses and you smile. “See? No one’s coming to arrest you.”

He lets out a chuckle, looking down at you like you were water in the Sahara, before his face drops to a serious tone.

“You have to tell him, Y/n.”

You let your hands fall back by your side and bite your bottom lip. “I know. But I can’t. Not yet.”

“What on god’s horribly disfigured earth were you doing this morning with Harrington?” Robin persists with a low voice and you shoot her a warning look.

You and Steve had returned to the sleepy gazes of your friends, some still trailing in while rubbing their eyes, others didn’t even look like they had woken up yet. Regardless, Hopper’s voice was demanding, and you had shuffled your way over to Robin so you could focus. If you were standing beside Steve, the apocalypse wouldn’t be the first thing on your mind.

“Can we not talk about it here?” You hiss, aware of the ears around you that could pick up on the conversation.

“Fine.” Robin widens her eyes mockingly. “You wanna keep it on the down low, got it. Tell your boyfriend that first.”

She nods her head in Steve’s direction and when you look over, a blush creeps across his cheeks and he’s averting his eyes, making your heart flutter.

“Not my boyfriend.” You almost forget to correct, folding your arms and redirecting your gaze back to Joyce.

“El will be by the gate, ready to connect with Hopper and try to find whatever is causing these gates to open.” Joyce smiles at the young girl beside her. “As for everyone else, we’ll need people on radios at all times. Patrol will be done periodically as usual.”

“I got the radios sorted.” Dustin smiles, motioning to the pile on the table.

Steve takes a glance down before his stomach twists. How many times had he tried contacting Dustin before his heart couldn’t take it anymore? Too many.

“The plan is for us to be down there an hour at most. It will let us cover the area surrounding the school and if we don’t find anything when our time is up, we’re getting out and we’re coming back here for a new course of action.” Hopper states and Nancy nods beside him, mentally capturing the map in her mind with the intention of scripting their movements in the limited time period.

“And if you do find something?” Mike asks and Hopper furrows his brows.

“We’re not planning on getting close enough to say hello.” He replies lowly, “But I know El will have eyes on us the whole time.”

The girl in question is nodding her head, face stoic and ready for her duties.

“We’ll head off in two hours. Until then, let’s make sure we have everything we need and take some time to prepare.”

And by that, he meant to prepare mentally. Nancy looked ready but her eyes kept darting to where Jonathan sat, already staring back at her. You supposed there must have been some friction when she decided to follow Hopper into the Upside Down. And in a mere two hours, a lovers quarrel would be the last thing to worry about.

“Y/n.” Hopper calls and you snap out of your thoughts, looking up. “You okay to do the patrol shift?”

“Yeah.” You nod, turning to Robin.

She was already walking away, her hands held up in silent protest and you understood her decision.

You absent-mindedly start looking to where Steve was standing, his arms crossed, back against a wall as Dustin chatted his ear off. The idea of being alone with him before all of this was excruciating, a thought that would never have crossed your mind. Now you were willing, and very happily so, to be spending time with him. He’s changed a lot from the King Steve you’ve grown to hate. He’s much more like that boy you met in middle school.

Hopper clears his throat and you realise you’ve been staring too long, returning your attention back to your father.

“I could-” You start but he’s already got other plans.

“Billy.” He calls over, summoning the boy by his side. “I need you and Y/n to patrol. Nothing long, just a quick check around the lab to make sure nothing has gotten in before we head out.”

“Sounds like fun.” Billy shrugs, throwing a smirk your way and you almost roll your eyes.

Content with his decision, Hopper gave a smile that said ‘that should keep you occupied’ and headed back to Joyce, probably to boast about how well he handled the Steve situation.

“Shall we?” Billy gestures to the weapons and you let out a sigh.

“Why not.” You say, throwing a look over your shoulder to where Robin was stifling a laugh. You pull a face at her before reaching the table, grabbing a knife.

“Last I remember, you were a pretty great shot.” Billy suggested, eyeing the shotgun. You knew he was genuine in his suggestion, but the thought of holding one again sent a chill down your spine. The shotgun didn’t save you last time.

“Like Hopper said, it’s just a quick tour of the lab.” You dismiss, smiling. “We better get it over with so you can prepare.”

“Right.” He chuckles, slinging the shotgun strap onto his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Steve watches in disdain as you leave with Billy, falling into easy conversation like the guy wasn’t a horrible human being. Part of him wanted to walk over and smack that smug look off his face but he was also fully aware of Hopper’s stare on him.

With a sigh, he re-immerses himself back into Dustin’s explanation on the notebooks he discovered in the control room upstairs.

“Most of it was pretty unintelligible. People need to learn how to write, or what’s the point?” He rambles, waving the book in the air. “I mean, the only words I could figure out were ‘green’ and numbers attached to experiments. Will’s much better at reading cursive than I am, so he’s getting information whenever he has time. Do you think they were doing other experiments here?”

“Are your radios gonna work?” Steve questions and Dustin looks in exasperation.

“You’re not even gonna attempt to be interested?” He complains and Steve pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We need to be focusing on this mission, not what some whack-job scientist scribbled in his diary.” He sighs. “So, radios. Are we sure they’ll even reach them?”

“Uh… duh. Or we wouldn’t be doing it.”

Steve resists the groan bubbling in his throat. “Well, it hasn’t been very useful so far.”

“What do you mean?” He looks up at him inquisitively, clutching his radio in his right hand.

Shifting uncomfortably, Steve lowers his head and purses his lips.

“Nothing, man, I’m just… I’m not convinced the radios work properly.”

“Why?” He pesters once more and Steve sighs.

“I tried reaching you.” He admits and the young boy’s eyes widen. “Like five times. And I know you’ve got that thing on you all the damn time. There’s gotta be a reason why it wasn’t reaching, or maybe you were just ignoring me.”

“I would never ignore you.” Dustin states matter-of-factly, shrugging. “And it wouldn’t have worked because I’ve been stuck in this bunker for hours on end, the frequency doesn’t reach this far down. I don’t think it’s built for stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Is all Steve can say.

“I would’ve answered if not.” Dustin assures and Steve slowly nods, swiping the bottle from the table beside him. “Plus, you should be thankful it never reached.”

“I should?” Steve raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of water.

“You would never have a girlfriend right now if I answered.”

Steve almost spat out his water, choking when the minimal requirement of swallowing said water went horribly awry.

“Knew it.” Dustin laughs.

“She’s not- we’re not-” Steve stumbles over his words, thankful everyone is too consumed in their own tasks to take notice. “Shut up, Henderson.”

The boy just laughs, content in his observation just as Nancy wanders over, picking up one of Dustin’s radios.

“Hey, this gonna work?” She asks and Dustin’s face drops.

“Why must everybody question me?” He grumbles, walking away without answering her question.

Nancy looks dumbfounded, turning to Steve. “Something I said?”

“I don’t know, that kid’s a ticking time bomb, anything could set him off.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “But, I wouldn’t worry about the radios. Henderson knows what he’s doing.”

She slowly nods, looking down at the object in question and Steve is unsure of what to say to her. They hadn’t talked since… well, not since they broke up. He wasn’t even sure if he was fully over her, or their relationship to be specific. It was the first time he really felt connected to someone. Until she started pulling away and leaving him to stare at himself for hours on end in that mirror of conscience.

“You guys are pretty close now, huh?” She queries, raising her head to meet his eyes and he clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, moving away from the wall and straightening up, wondering what to do with his hands. How did he used to stand? “He’s a little shit, but he’s pretty cool. Like having a little brother.”

“Right.” She chuckles under her breath. “But, um… that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you…” Steve began before it finally clicked and he tightens his lips, wincing. “Did everyone see us come in together?”

“I think most of them saw you follow her outside, actually.” She offers a smile and he starts to laugh awkwardly.

“It’s not- we’re… we’re just friends. I think. I actually don’t know if we’re even that right now. We’re not- that’s not…” He rambles, wiping his hands on his jeans. Was it always hot in here, why did he feel so hot? “Acquaintances.”

“Sure.” Nancy says knowingly, setting the radio back down. “I’m just… surprised. Last I knew, you hated her.”

Her smile drops when his face does, avoiding her eyes. She starts to shake her head.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no. You’re right, I… I did hate her.” Steve shrugs, “The more I think about it, though… the more I wonder if I ever had any reason to.”

“You mean other than freshman year?” She asks and his eyes shoot up. “I don’t remember anything else-”

“What about freshman year?” Steve interjects and her brows scrunch.

“You don’t remember?” Her eyes widen when he shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Wow. Sorry, I didn’t realise- it was the biggest gossip. I wasn’t even in high school yet but everyone in my class talked about it.”

“About what?”

“The date.” She says it was a historic event. “All I heard was you guys went to Lover’s Lake, she tried… well, she tried something, and then got all upset because you turned her down. I remember Carol saying that Y/n took it so bad she tried turning everyone on you, using it to get closer to guys?”

Steve wasn’t sure if his memory was truly terrible, or if he shouldn’t be believing any of it. He couldn’t recall ‘the date’, or Lover’s Lake. Not even the part where you apparently came onto him and he rejected you? That made no sense.

“That didn’t happen.” He frowns, mostly muttering to himself.

“I wasn’t there.” Nancy tightens her lips sympathetically, “And I know now that anything Carol says can be a complete lie. But it’s the only thing I can think of. You guys never fought in middle school.”

“Nancy!” Mike’s voice carries across the room and she looks over her shoulder.

“Look, I should…” She motions to her brother, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He dismisses with a forced smile. Nancy knows him better than that, but she also knows she’s on borrowed time to see Mike before she leaves, so she starts moving away from him. “Hey.”

She looks back expectantly.

“Good luck. Just in case I don’t get a chance to say it later.”

With a smile, she finally turns away and joins her brother and his friends, leaving Steve to stand with his thoughts, and wonder just how much of his life he had lost in those battles.

Everything was pretty quiet in the lab. There hadn’t been one ominous sound, not even an echo of a snarl. The only noise came from the soft thumps of footsteps between friends.

You wondered what Steve was doing now.

No, you tell yourself, stop it.

Whenever your thoughts drifted to Steve, they were automatically met with a wake up call from the sore curse on your ankle, feeding into the long list of reasons you couldn’t be closer to him. Your life had gotten spectacularly more complicated and, as a result, shorter than anticipated. You hoped you would at least feel when it was happening. Maybe then you’d have a chance to stop yourself before it was too late.

Billy lets out a yawn beside you, peering through a door that was slightly ajar before returning with no evidence of a monster in sight.

“So.” You look up to the boy beside you, welcoming a distraction. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

You can see his eyes retract from you, looking almost… sheepish. He must have been expecting this conversation.

“Yeah…” Billy coughs, rolling his shoulders. “Sorry about that. I was busy.”

“Hm.” You nod with a smile, tilting your head. “I can imagine how busy it must have been. How many missed calls was it? 7?”

“9.” He responds quickly before immediately clocking the trap you sent for him. “Shit.”

“Not too busy to see them, then?” You comment with a smirk. You weren’t upset about it.

Truthfully, you weren’t really close friends. More… friendly acquaintances. But he did just suddenly drop off the face of your earth and never explained himself. Avoiding you wherever possible, watching your calls ring through with no intention of picking up. You gave up after 9 days. That was enough to be satisfied you had tried your best.

“Okay, yeah, you got me.” He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have a good reason for it, either.”

“It’s whatever.” You shrug when he raises an eyebrow. “Come on, we were just partners on a project, you didn’t stand me up at our wedding or anything.”

“Always figured you wanted something more.” He jokes with that smirk of his. You simply roll your eyes.

“In your dreams.”

“Every night, princess.”

“God.” You grimace, laughing. “You’re such a creep when you call me that. My dad’s the chief of police. And it definitely doesn’t suit me.”

“That’s what makes it so funny.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles to himself.

“How about I make it up to you later?” Billy nudges your shoulder and you laugh.

“Not necessary.”

“Nah, come on. We’ll go wherever you want.”

“If I recall, aren’t you about to go on a dangerous mission?” You try to keep it light-hearted and he shrugs.

“When I get back.”

“Okay,” You nod slowly, curious. “And where in Hawkins are we gonna go? Considering everything is a pile of rubble.”

“The chief said something about Illinois.” He recalls as he holds a door open for you, “How about I buy you a drink there?”

You laugh. “No specific place. Just Illinois.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re barely 19.”

“That’s not what it says on my ID.” He pretends to act shocked and you laugh, shaking your head. “So, what’d you say?”

“You get back from the Upside Down… and I’ll think about it.”

He clicks his tongue with a grin, shaking his head. “That’s fair. I deserve that.”

“Just focus on finding monsters.” You playfully push him away from you, ignoring that jolt of anxiety you feel when you notice a flickering lightbulb in a passing corridor.

“So, when we go for drinks.” Billy smirks, “Is Harrington gonna mind?”

You almost trip up. “Why would Steve care?”

“Look, I don’t wanna get in the middle of stuff.” Billy says and you’re slightly surprised. After all, he wasn’t known for his quiet and respectful nature at school. Your hesitancy must have shown on your face because he shrugs. “High school’s almost over, and I’m not looking for those assholes to be my ‘glory days’ or whatever. We all gotta grow up sometime.”

“And the thing that happened last year?” You suggest, “I don’t know what happened, but everyone seems pretty pissed with you.”

“It was a mistake.” His eyes darken, jaw tight and set as he looks ahead. “I was just sick of people ordering me around all the fucking time, you know?”

You go to answer when something starts echoing your way. It sounded like… scratches?

“The hell is that?” Billy frowns, shotgun slipping off his shoulder and into his hands. Your heart starts to race.

“Probably nothing.” You shake your head, and then the noise starts up again. Except this time, it’s a pounding of noises, harsh banging that had you stumbling back.

“Nothing is making a shit ton of noise right now.” Billy breathes out harshly, stepping in front of you.

He’s already moving toward the noise before you could offer any more dismissals and you have to follow, your knuckles paler from the tightened grip of the knife in your fist.

Your heart leaps into your throat, choking a gasp from your mouth when you reach a set of double doors, leading down the very hallway that you had discovered yesterday. The one that apparently wasn’t just in your nightmares.

“Billy.” You hold a hand out, stopping him from charging forward. “We should get back-up.”

“It’s fine, probably just another demodog.” He raises his shotgun, ignoring your protests.

Something suddenly snarls behind you and you both spin around, finding nothing under the furiously flickering lights. The banging noise starts again, in the same space you both stared at.

“Shit, it’s following us.” Billy curses, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind him. “That hallway leads to the other side of the lab. It’ll get us closer to the bunker.”

“Are you sure?” You glance over your shoulder, an unsettling feeling burying into your gut.

“Trust me, we’ve been using it for days now.”

His retreating footsteps weren’t giving you much choice as another snarl bites the air, forcing you to bump open one of the double doors and back yourself into the hallway.

And then the banging starts again. Except it’s behind you.

You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.

The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.

Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.

It didn’t budge.

You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.

“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”

“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

And then the pounding against the door gets louder, more violent. He is using every bit of his strength to break through, but it’s not working.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He yells out, driving his boot down on the doors hard. It was just as successful as before.

The air is cut silent and you freeze, breathing heavy as you raise your head, meeting Billy’s eyes. He’s looking behind you, trying to figure out what was going on. But you knew. You’ve been here before.

“Billy.” You divert his attention with pleading eyes. “Go back to the bunker.”

“The fuck I will.” He protests, frowning.

Knowing you needed a solid reason, you put on your best front and nod at him. “Get back-up.”

His eyes keep darting between you and the door, a scowl masking whatever fear swam in his gaze.

“You don’t have any other choice.” You say and he lets out a frustrated sigh, nodding.

“Do not die.” Billy warns, jogging backwards before breaking out into a run, back through the winding hallways.

And you were left alone, slowly turning back to the door, waiting for your nightmare to begin again.

Steve was brooding. There wasn’t any other way to put it. Pouting, maybe. Like a child that had been left behind.

Right now, you were roaming the halls with Billy Hargrove, probably discussing that ‘moment’ you apparently had. He wondered if you would tell him about the bite, trust Billy like you trusted Steve. Part of him felt bitter about that thought.

He feels a shadow approach him and turns around from where he was standing at the window to the gate.

“Does something perplex thee?” Robin mocks with a posh British accent, earning a glare. She drops the act. “Damn, you do be perplexing.”

“No, I’m not.” He scrunches his face, glancing back at the portal to hell. “Wait, what does perplex mean?”

“The American education system has failed you, my friend.” She rests a hand on his shoulder, curving her head to meet his eyes. “There something you wanna tell me?”

“I mean, I did miss a lot of school.” He admits with a shrug and she whacks his arm. “Ow!”

“I meant about her, dingus!” She flails an arm out, her voice louder than anticipated.

“Shh! Jesus Christ.” His eyes are wide and Robin is resisting the grin ever-growing dimples on her face. “No. No, I’m not…”

She raises an eyebrow and he feels a blush creeping up his neck.

“Y/n and I are just friends.” He states sternly and she smirks.

“I never said I was talking about Y/n.” She points out and by this point, he’s beetroot red.

“Fine.” He whispers out. It was admit it or forever be haunted by it. “I… mightlikeher.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Robin prompts, holding a hand to her ear.

Steve grits his teeth. “I… might… likeher.”

“One more time.”

“Robin!”

“Okay, jeez.” Robin laughs, shaking her head. “You didn’t even need to say it out loud, you’re so obvious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve seen monkeys act more normal than you.”

“Yeah well, maybe monkeys can act normal because the monkeys they like actually like them back.”

Robin stares blankly. “You lost me.”

“I… I told her this morning. Kind of. Well…”

She raises a brow. “You either did or you didn’t.”

“There was a…” He waves his hand in the air, eyes squinting. “Moment.”

“And was this, uh… moment, inside or outside of your head?” Robin accuses and he slumps against the metal railing.

“Why am I even talking to you?” Steve mutters and Robin snorts.

“Because your only other friend is a child.” She laughs, quietening when she catches his glare. “Okay, okay, sorry. I’m just curious, that’s all. One minute you guys are literally yelling at eachother across a cafeteria and the next you’re sneaking off and sneaking glances and being all… mushy.”

“Horrible word choice.” Steve cringes.

“And Y/n won’t spill anything. In fact, she’s been distracted and kind of distant so naturally, I’ve come to the source.”

“She…” He isn’t sure how to finish his explanation. It wasn’t his place to tell her. If anyone should, it should be you. But he knew you would avoid the topic forever if you could. “I don’t know. Nothing’s happening between us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She detects that tone of disappointment in his voice and her entire demeanour changes.

“It’s really hard liking someone when you don’t even know if you can be together.” She says quietly and Steve turns his head to her. She rests her hands against the railing, staring down at them. “Especially when it’s literally only one thing. And that thing is usually the most crucial part.”

Steve thinks about this for a moment, catching his reflection against the glass. The most crucial part to your relationship was, as it has been for the last four days, survival in its simplest form. But you might have this virus and Steve can’t change that. You might not survive.

“You just have to figure out if it’s worth trying anyway.” Robin smiles sadly at him. “Jump into the deep end. Sink or swim.”

Steve couldn’t decide. Was it better for him to lay it all out on the table, tell you how he really feels, give it a shot? Or is it going to be easier for him to just forget this ever happened? It was a horrible thing, to decide how you could live best after someone was sentenced to death.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks and she looks a little surprised, her mouth parting. And then she smiles.

“Well, it should really be your decision. But... if you really want my opinion...” She meets his eyes and tilts her head. “I happen to remember you’re a really good swimmer.”

Steve couldn't help but smile at that, standing beside a girl who might have the potential to be the friend he always needed.

A loud echo drums against the control room walls, snapping their heads to the sound. Steve frowns while Robin’s eyes widen.

“What was that?” She whispers out.

Steve’s arms begin to trail goosebumps along the skin as he pushes away from the window.

“I don’t know.” He replies truthfully, straining his ears for another clue.

“Maybe they’re on their way back and dropped something.” Robin suggests, and Steve wants to believe it’s true.

Until a hot blare of screeching sirens suddenly rings out above them, red lights spinning around the room in crimson shadows. They immediately clamp their hands over their ears, groaning at the ear-piercing sound.

Hopper finds his way out of the bunker, holding two shotguns and a hard stare. He had snapped into action as soon as he heard the distant warning bells.

“What happened?!” He shouts over the noise, but the duo shake their heads.

The door bursts open and a red-faced Billy stumbles in, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

Steve’s heart drops when he sees he’s alone, and Hopper immediately strides over to him.

“Where’s Y/n?!” He demands, and Billy stumbles over his words. “I can’t hear you!”

“She’s trapped and something’s in there with her!” Billy yells, and Steve’s blood runs cold.

Hopper immediately turns, chucking a shotgun toward Steve and the boy luckily manages to catch it.

“You two, with me!” He orders, turning to Robin. “Grab the others and figure out what’s going on with the sirens!”

She quickly nods and scrambles to get into the bunker as Steve and Hopper follow Billy out, wasting no time.

They didn’t know what to expect, and they didn’t care. Steve prayed they made it in time.

You stand there, pressed up against your locked exit as the door shudders from the impact behind, rattling the hinges with each force of a beating.

You weren’t going to wake up this time.

You scan the floor for what you remember seeing, Robin’s bracelet. It was different this time, like it hadn’t happened yet.

The door shatters into splinters and you almost stop breathing, a loud piercing sound of nails against the chalkboard.

Claws.

It was the first you saw in the darkness, and then a fog of breath.

Everything plunged into chaos.

The sirens start blaring and you wince against the sudden noise, clamping your hands over your ears. The lights were flickering out of control, leaving you dazed and disoriented. You struggled to keep your eyes on the door, knowing one moment of distraction would be your demise.

Something was breathing heavy, a dim silhouette growing until its head almost struggled to fit inside the doorframe. Then you saw it.

Green glowing eyes.

And it finally stepped forward, knocking the air out of your lungs as your eyes pricked with tears.

“Y/n?” A voice calls out, and for a mere second you thought you were free.

Until you realise that voice was echoing from the wrong direction.

The monster stops moving and you can just see a figure behind it at the end of the hallway, their soft features looking around with a frown. And then she sees it.

Robin finally sees the monster.

Her eyes widen in terror as the thing turns towards her, snarling, flexing its claws.

“NO!” You scream, and your best friend tries to run.

She doesn’t make it.

The monster hooks its claws into her back and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. You cry out, raising your knife and charging forward. One swift hand throws you back and you thump onto the floor, coughing for oxygen.

You try to scramble to your feet again, save her, kill it. But you’re too late.

Her screams suddenly stop and you watch as it rips into her, slicing through flesh like it was paper, your knife slipping from your grip as everything around you feels like it has stopped. You couldn’t even feel your own heartbeat anymore.

One motion from the creature’s claw and something is flung from the vicious actions, landing at your feet.

A glint of metal in a woven circle.

Her bracelet.

You let out a strangled cry, falling back to the ground. It stops, breathing heavily, and slowly turning back towards you.

It was similar to a demogorgon’s body, pale and unnatural. But much bigger. And this one had a face.

Two green eyes that stretched along each side, like they had been pulled back.

A long, gaping mouth, slots of sharp teeth slowly pushing through the gums.

Its arms were long and lanky, sharp claws scratching against the walls as it creeps closer to you, smearing red against the white. Robin’s blood. Robin’s blood.

Tears are streaming down your face as you try to scramble away, knowing there was no escape. It had murdered Robin- god - in cold blood right in front of you, and now it was going to kill you. Part of you didn’t have the fight left.

One terrifyingly high pitched roar escapes its mouth as it raises an ugly claw.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying to imagine your family, Sara. Robin. Steve. You couldn’t let your last memory be that ugly face.

The sound of smashing glass had your eyes flying open in an instant, rattling sounds of a shotgun fire above you. You look with tear stained cheeks at the monster stumbling away from you into a run, startled by the attack.

Not before it sent another cold shiver down your spine with one look in its endless green eyes, clicking its tongue.

It had vanished down the hallway by the time Steve had managed to break through one of the doors. It was almost like it had opened by itself, never been locked. Nothing like how Billy had described it to be.

“Y/n?!” He yells, fear coating his entire body when he notices something further down the hallway. So much blood.

“Steve?”

Your small voice turns him to where you’re curled up in the corner, eyes wide and gleaming with the tears that hadn’t already fallen.

“Thank god.” He breathes in relief, meeting you on the floor and capturing you in a hug, wincing at the way you were shaking. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

“No-“ A sob is caught in your throat and he pulls back, searching your eyes. “It… it got her. She’s-“

“Who?” Steve asks, his brows furrowed as bile rises in his throat.

Your eyes drift back down that hallway. He turns his head to see Hopper already walking over to the body, kneeling beside it. You suddenly scramble to your feet, startling him.

“Y/n-“

“It killed Robin.” You finally say and he starts to shake his head.

“No.” He frowns, placing himself in front of you. “Y/n, look at me. That’s impossible. I was just with her. She’s safe.”

“She came looking for me.” Your mind was distracted, a heavy weight pushing against your chest as you avoided his eyes, “I didn’t get there fast enough, I could’ve- it killed her right in front of me…”

Steve looks at Hopper in exasperation as the man raises his head, shaking it. Steve looks down at the body, actually taking time to take in what remained.

“Why didn’t I stop it…” You’re still whispering to yourself, searching the ground for the weapon you abandoned. “I have to kill it. I have to-“

“Wait, stop.” Steve’s hand flies out to grab your arm, but you yank it away.

“She’s dead, and it’s my fault.” You still mutter, swiping the knife from the floor again. This wasn’t normal, the reaction you were heaving. Where was the screaming, the crying? Your best friend is dead.

“No, look-“

You ignore him, gripping the knife and trying to charge forward, but Steve grabs both of your arms now and you start to struggle. “Get off me! I have to-“

“Hey! Hey, it’s not her! Look, it’s not her!” Steve yells at you and you stop to finally look at the body, breathing hard and frowning.

There was so much blood splattered around, gashes of flesh against the cold floor. But none of it belonged to Robin. Because it had never been Robin.

The same dark and bony figure you had seen take your form days ago was led there, its hands a dead giveaway. A shapeshifter.

“It's not…” You blink back tears, shoulders dropping in defeat, and you feel someone gently taking the knife out of your hand.

“Just another shapeshifter. Y/n, look at me…” Steve gently places a hand on your check, guiding your eyes to look at him. “She’s okay. Robin’s okay. You’re okay.”

A tear trickles down and he pulls you into a hug again. Except this time, you surrender to it completely and hold onto him like a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder with all the tears that were physically causing you pain to hold back.

Steve can’t believe this happened again. He left you, again. Anytime you weren’t in his sights, the universe had to find some way to mock him.

“You’re okay.” He whispers, into your hair, his own eyes falling shut.

Alarms were still blaring out of control when you finally left those hallways, the repetitive noise drilling a headache into your mind.

When the door bursts open, Dustin gasps and Robin turns from where she had been hitting random buttons in an attempt to get the noise to stop.

“Oh, thank god, you’re-”

Her words were cut off when you almost flew at her, pulling her into an unexpected hug.

“You’re alive.” You whisper quietly and she frowns.

“Of course I am.” She shakes her head as you pull away, noticing the trails tears had left down your cheeks. “What happened?”

“A shapeshifter.” You sigh and her face drops.

“And… it looked like me?” She theorised, her lips tightening when you nod. Wordless, she pulls you in for another hug, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You found a way to get this thing to shut off?” Hopper asks, his raised voice sounding like a normal volume over the shrill sounds of sirens.

“I’ve looked everywhere, there’s no instructions or even a manual for this thing!” Dustin exasperates, flinging a bunch of notebooks everywhere. “All I got is this weird countdown!”

Hopper frowns, gently moving him aside to stare down at a screen implanted into the control room panels, staring at red numbers that were counting down from 7:00, assuming it had started much earlier before he arrived.

They had already lost 10 seconds before he finally turned back around, and you noticed the pale look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You question, stepping forward.

“It's not safe here anymore. We need to leave.” He says, looking between the confused expressions in the room. “Now!”

“It's a lockdown.” Dustin whispers out in realisation, mouth dropping open.

“What does that mean?” He frowns, finding himself looking at where Billy was peering down at the ticking clock.

“It means if we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll all be dog food.” He grunts, quickly moving to where Hopper was flinging open the bunker door, already shouting for everyone to abort the mission.

“Shit.” Steve spits, making sure you were already descending the stairs before he grabbed Dustin’s arm. “Come on, go, go.”

Everything was chaos. Groups were scrambling to collect different items, hastily shoving them into backpacks. Hopper didn’t need to say much to get them motivated, just his horrified look and a mention of an explosion to have them scrambling around to pack as much as they could before the time was up.

You hadn’t come with much, just one of Steve’s old backpacks still filled with various supplies. So, you make sure the kids are moving as quickly as they could, taking on different tasks, afraid of what will happen if you’re not out of the building when that clock hits zero.

“We need to go, now!” Hopper shouts and everyone drops whatever was in their hands, knowing if it wasn’t packed, it wouldn’t be coming with them. “Kids, follow Joyce! Billy, Nancy, Jonathan, go ahead!”

The trio in question nod their heads, arming their weapons and running up the stairs, Joyce just behind them. Hopper directs Mike and Will to follow, his head darting around for the other four.

“Guys!” You yell at Lucas and Max, pointing. “Go, quick!”

“Where’s El?!” Max worries out loud and you’re spinning around.

“I saw her head up already!” Dustin shouts as he runs past. You and Hopper share a similar nod of relief and you slip your backpack on.

“Let’s go!” Hopper yells again and you grab Robin's arm, knowing Steve would be following.

The increase of volume was as if you had walked into a room filled with high-pitched shrieking, wincing as Robin clamps her hands over her ears. She’s running through the door, Dustin and Steve beside her when you sneak a glance at the clock.

4:54

You were gonna make it.

As you turn on your heel to begin running, your eyes catch the window, processing something that almost tripped you over. The gate wasn’t as red as it had once been.

Dust was pouring out, flooding the railings with a sea of black. You shivered, deciding to run and leave it. It would simply be a pile of rubble in a few minutes.

But the distant screaming struck your spine and you found a girl struggling against its pull, taking shape to wrap around her body and tug her back towards the gate. Your eyes drift to where the door below the railing you stood on was wide open, like someone had run out. Someone who spent more time with the gate than anyone else.

El.

Steve glances over his shoulder and skids to a stop, steadying the shotgun that threatened to slip from his shoulder. The others kept charging ahead and he barely waited for you to appear before he began running back the way he came, one hand on the doorframe when he reached the control room.

“Y/n-”

You weren’t there. Shit. Why weren’t you there?

“Steve! Where are you guys?! Over!” Dustin’s voice blared through the radio strapped to his hip and his hand hovered over it, debating.

He couldn’t leave you behind again.

The first time he let you go, you were bitten by a demodog which could now be the very reason you wouldn’t survive. The second had you kidnapped and traumatised, a distant look in your eye that made him worry a hell of a lot more than he should be. The third you just disappeared, battling some unbeatable creature he had thought killed you. And now, a fourth time, that ungodly creature with glowing green eyes..

He wouldn’t let that happen a fifth.

“Henderson, listen to me. Get out of the building. Make sure everyone is out, don’t let anyone turn back.” He says into the radio, a hit of silence before Dustin’s voice comes blaring through again.

“And you’ll be out soon, right?”

Steve lowers his head, looking over at the countdown.

4:32.

“Yeah, we’ll be out soon.” He says, but his heart wasn’t in it, no vindication of truth in his words.

He straps the radio back on his hip, knowing if he talks too much he might feel the guilt of leaving Dustin. He could get you out in 2 minutes. Right? He checks his watch, making a mental note of the time. He wanted to track how long it took to find you. It was 9:28am right now.

If he could find you. Steve’s eyes scan the window of the gate, squinting at a blurry black shape. He’s been wondering if he needs glasses for a while now.

And then he sees you, leaning over the railing, screaming. His eyes dart to where he can just see El being dragged through the gate, heart leaping into his throat.

He didn’t expect you to push away and start running further down, closer to the entrance, further from him.

“Y/n!” He shouts out as he almost flies down the steps and out the door before his conscience could convince him otherwise.

He keeps shouting your name, and you keep ignoring it, trailing further and further down, your footsteps harsh against the metal staircase.

You didn’t have a weapon, no chance for survival. But you couldn’t leave her. You couldn’t watch her die. Not another sister. Not your sister. Not again.

It was stupid, reckless, suicidal what you were doing. No doubt as to why your friends were screaming for you to stop. But was it really a risk when you’re already so close to death?

It wasn’t just the bite, it was the veins, a black substance stretching around the wound. It was already too late for you, just like the other townsfolk plagued by the creatures ripping you all apart. You could have just sat and cried about it, helplessly ranted to your friends, to Hopper. To Steve. But what good would that do?

You hated yourself, but even that small miniscule part of you that still had faith was powering you to do something right for once.

To run into the wonderland of your nightmares alone.

Because who would ever follow you down the rabbit hole?

The difference between metal and rocky ground almost threw you off, ignoring that hiss of pain in your ankle. It was loud down here for a different reason, a thrumming of sound emitting from the gate in front of you. It was huge, taking up entirely too much space. And the dust was retreating through it, your sister already vanished.

How long has it been since the countdown? Probably too long for you to turn back, find another way. There were other gates, but this one was right here. El needed you.

Charging forward, you reach your hands out and pull apart the seams of the gate, pushing through what felt like some sort of unpleasant membrane. You tried not to think too much of it, driving yourself forward with what little will you had left.

The air felt thicker, white specks floating aimlessly around you as you drag yourself through the gate, wondering if it ever ended. Your foot catches on something and you fall forward, letting out a groan when you barely manage to bring your hands out in front of you in time.

You take in a breath, reaching out for the walls of the gate. Your eyes slowly open.

Everything was so dark in here. The sky, the ground, even the flashes of red lightning through the dark clouds. You push yourself to your feet, frowning as you take in your surroundings. If this version of Hawkins was meant to reflect your own, why were you outside?

“El?” You call out, frowning. You didn’t see any dust.

Something spits behind you and you spin around in a stumble, face dropping. The gate was towering over you once again, plastered to a wall of vines the same size as the lab you were just in. You look at your feet, gasping.

This was a flipped version of Hawkins. Except, somehow, you were standing in the ruins of a lab that once was. Like something destroyed it.

“El?!” You yell out, searching the dim blue for a girl, or at least a sign. You turn back around, feeling helpless.

The gate starts physically breathing, beaming a brighter red and casting your shadow behind you. You slowly back away. The humming of it grew louder, the vines it lay on slithering around it in unchoreographed patterns.

Something breaks through and you search the ground for a weapon, panicking. When it almost reaches you, you grab a rock and get ready to swing.

“Hey, woah, hey! Stop!” Steve yells out and you drop it, eyes widening, “Jesus, you could kill somebody with that!”

You blink, slowly shaking your head. “No, no, no, no, no…”

He frowns at you, quickly looking down at his watch. It just turned 9:30am, “Fuck, okay, we have just over two minutes to get the hell out before god knows what happens.”

“You’re not meant to be here.” You say, still shaking your head. “Steve! Why the hell did you follow me?!”

“Like I was gonna leave you?!” He gawks, gesturing to the gate. “What else was I meant to do?!”

“Get the hell out of the lab!” You exasperate. He shouldn’t have come with you. This was a death trap, he had to know it.

“We still have time-”

“I need to find El, you should leave before you run out of time.” You point to the gate but he’s much more stubborn than you think.

“I’m not leaving unless you’re coming with me.” He says sternly and you could almost scream.

“Steve, you’re literally wasting one of those minutes arguing with me, we can’t-”

“It’s fine, it’s still two…” Steve frowns, glaring at his watch. The hand hadn’t budged from the six. He looks a little closer, holding it to his ear. It wasn’t ticking. “What the…”

“What?”

“My watch stopped working.” He says and you scrunch your face. “No, I only just replaced the batteries, Dustin borrowed it and fixed it while we were gone, I…”

You stare at him. “So you don’t know how much time is left?”

He shakes his head vigorously. “I-“

A loud rumble shakes the floor and you automatically reach out to Steve, his hands grabbing your waist as you try to balance.

“What the hell was that?” You breathe out, and you both turn to the gate, something behind it growing brighter and brighter. “Steve…”

He squints against it. It looked like something was getting closer. Then, as he stares down at his suspiciously broken watch, his stomach drops. You were out of time.

“Run.” He breathes helplessly, not bothering to wait for your response before grabbing your hand and pulling you with him.

Steve desperately searches the area for some shelter, any kind of cover. He was standing in what looked like debris, a giant piece of… the lab? Whatever it was, it looked sturdy enough for him to pull you behind it.

He ducked his head down just as a giant blast of fire spat out of the gate, feeling the heat of it in the air as he held you tight. The shock left a ringing in his ear, his only reminder that he was still alive being the way you grasped his hand tight.

You move first, peering out over the slab of concrete and hissing when your hand accidentally makes contact with the burning stone. Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

Four days ago, you had both survived the beginning of the apocalypse despite mutual hatred in every bone. It was purely a strategic pairing, unbeknownst to how much you’d learn.

Four days later, and there was a new beginning lurking in the air, staring at one another and holding hands like it was the only salvation.

This is it, Steve thinks, his eyes searching your own worried glaze of hue, sink or swim.

Chapter Thirteen: Three Weeks Later ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve x reader #stranger things au #apocalypse au #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic series

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joels6string · 1 year

Note

Kate, I am asking - in a very normal and not at all desperate way - for smut prompt 4. “Use your words.” with Joel 😇

And, uh, arbitrary bonus points from me if you feel like making this a "we almost died" fuck.

💗💗💗

Hayley my love!! I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy it 💜

4. "Use Your Words" Word Count: 890 Content: rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, squirting, spanking, creampie

Impetuous Reactions

Joel Miller x f!reader

“You pleased with yourself?”

There was venom laced in that Texas drawl as he slammed the door closed, his boots heavy on the rotting floor as he approached. You didn’t dare turn and look at him to find those cold, hazel eyes so filled with disdain, not today.

“Fuck off, Miller,” you spat, still refusing to turn, “You would have done the same–”

“I ain’t that stupid.”

Everything about this run had gone wrong, and while you certainly wouldn’t admit it to him, it was entirely your fault. A quick pickup had turned into a firefight, your quick trigger finger pulling too early and you’d nearly paid the price with your lives. You were still shaking, Joel’s level head getting you through the disaster of your own creation, but now it was him you had to deal with. Jury was still out on which fate was worse.

In a momentary lapse in judgment last week, you’d slept with him. Scotch from Bill had flowed too freely, your loneliness claiming ownership over your sense and before you even had time to argue with it, you’d been beneath him on a grungy, old couch, the drag of his thick length bringing you to the peak over and over until you were fucked into a daze. It had felt so good, your body soaking in his warmth, the way his lips tasted still lingering on your tongue even now.

After that, you hadn’t discussed it. A one-time thing. A mistake. You worked together, nothing more. It couldn’t be more. Not in a world like this.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his tone unwavering, and when you did you gasped to find him so close, your lips mere inches from the throat they’d marked such a short time ago. The discoloration still tinged his sun-darkened skin.

A calloused thumb brushed over the swelling just beneath your eye causing you to wince, gentle fingers gripping beneath your chin and turning your face as he inspected you for other injuries. But his mild touch ended there, his lips crashing onto yours bruisingly as he stepped forward, your back hitting the wall with a thud as he licked at the seam of your mouth. His biceps strained beneath the worn flannel, your hands gripping onto them as he wrestled your jeans to your knees.

“This what you want?” he exhaled against your throat, a thick digit sliding through your already soaked slit.

All you could muster was a whine, your arms wrapping his neck as your legs buckled, the heavy scent of gunpowder and sweat filling your nostrils.

“Use your words,” he growled, pressing his thumb down on your throbbing clit.

“Yes,” you sputtered, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It was pathetic the way you responded to those two simple words, mewling into his hair as his teeth grazed over your pulse before he reclaimed your lips once again. You took it upon yourself to free his cock, precum already oozing from the tip as you fisted him. The rocking of his hips into your grip was involuntary, his body begging for friction as your tongues reacquainted, a thick digit breaching your entrance and pressing to the deep velvety patch he made a point to search out.

Pressure was building rapidly as he massaged the innermost parts of you, your whines growing deeper and more desperate as you breathed in his air, your fist still tight as he continued to flick his hips into you. You could feel your arousal dripping down your inner thighs, your body toward release embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t control it. With a shriek of his name, you clamped around his finger, a gush soaking his hand and wrist before he quickly spun you to face the wall, pulling your hips away enough and bending you til only your forearms were left to keep you steady.

There was nothing gentle about the way he pushed his cock into your cunt, bottoming out in one quick thrust and giving you no time to adjust. It was brutal and punishing, but so fucking good as his hips smacked against your ass, your own whines drowned out by the slap of skin on skin. His hand running gently up and down your spine reassured you that all it would take was one word and he’d stop, but you wanted him just like this.

“Christ,” he sighed as you began to clench again, his wide palm swatting down on your ass making you yelp in pleasure and pain alike.

His arm wrapped around your waist as your legs finally gave way, white-hot heat coursing through your veins as the pressure he’d built became too much to bear. Your vision went black, every muscle relaxing its tension as he spilled deep inside of you, thrusting through your oversensitized channel slowly, enjoying the way your combined releases eased his way.

Soft presses of his lips to your neck and shoulder helped slow your labored breathing, his hand splayed across your stomach, his beard scratching against your damp skin.

“Stop bein’ stupid.” If he’d meant that to sound harsh, he’d failed, his voice practically pleading. “Don’t make me lose you.”

“I could say the same to you,” you teased, linking your fingers with his over your middle, his gruff laugh huffing out against your ear.

“Touché. So we have a deal then?”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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thehothcast · 4 months

Text

cassian andor general romance hcs

word count: 994

warnings: none, just a miniscule reference to sex

message from the authors: first post on the account! love that for us. we both (okay just me, fine - grace) went a little feral writing these, enjoy the show! (i was moral support for grace and additional idea giver, hope u love! - rosa)

ok so! i think cass is very easily scared off when it comes to this kind of thing: love. he’s skittish when he’s unsure, and although romantic dalliances aren’t new to him, approaching a situation where he’s not privy to if you reciprocate or even if you ever could, is new to him. he’s always been the one in control of the dynamic, or at the very least an equal, with both participants on the same page (or thereabouts, see him and bix i suppose.)

the man seems a lil avoidant, like he’s just wary of people in general so i'm not so sure how well he’d respond to hearing from a third party that you had a crush on him, whether that be a close friend of yours or an unfamiliar group of fellow rebels. he’d immediately feel like expectations were being pushed onto him and people were anticipating him to react in a certain way. he doesn’t like that, it feels like someone's yanked open the curtains that were obscuring him from the bright light of perception? so even though he returns your feelings for sure, he’s not going to react well to that kind of direct address/situation and would most likely pull away from you in an attempt to take back the control he feels he’s lost.

in the end i think if one of you were to make a move to further the relationship, it would have to be him because he doesn’t like feeling caught off guard or put on the spot. even then, he’s definitely not confessing the true extent of his fondness for you (even though it totally consumes him, this is a man that feels deeply, just look at those eyes babe).

cassian is someone who expresses their love through actions and deeds, not so much words, at least not immediately, that’s a little too vulnerable for him at the moment.

let's be honest, his version of getting the message across to you is patting you on the shoulder and telling you “that’s really good” as he oversees your group’s blaster training. like the affection is there and you totally get free passes where others don’t, but overall there’s really nothing concrete to suggest he thinks of you as anything other than a friendly comrade, which is probably how he likes it for now.

again, addressing it head on either by yourself or having another person plant the notion into his mind is not the way to go about this. he’s like a stray animal, you see him from across the street and desperately want to pull him close and love up on him, but even the most careful approach will have him skirting away from you in a flash after one wrong move.

honestly the only way to go about this i think is to just let him do his own thing, find a quiet and subtle way let him know you’re open and will be waiting with open arms, and he’ll come to you eventually. i’d say he’d come to you in his own time, and I wouldn't be lying but let's be honest, that first really meaningful look (see elevator scene in rogue one 😩) and pleading of your name is going to come in a moment of high-stakes and danger. what can I say, there's nothing like a life threatening situation in which either one or both of your lives are in jeopardy and desperation and stress infect every decision made, to provoke a momentary lapse in resolve and allow some painfully concealed concern and devotion to seep out of one's every orifice <3.

then there’s the subject of his name. obviously he introduces himself as cassian (unless he’s undercover but that’s a whole other can of worms, you’d get there in the end), so you’ve not really any reason to suspect otherwise until you pose an innocent question about the origins of his name, which leads him to hesitantly surrender his birth name to you. this is only something he’d ever consider doing if he truly, deeply trusted you and felt ready to open up even just a little bit. again, it’s all in his own time, there’s no pushing cassian. psst, don’t be afraid of using his real name, he’ll answer to it…just pick the right moments iykyk

when on missions, clashes tend to happen. cassian believes he knows best (and maybe he does. he probably does lets be fr we’re dumbos), so you’ll every now and again notice him speaking for you or making decisions on your behalf. obviously as an independent entity, this will most likely get on your nerves so it’s an issue that’ll have to be addressed in a sit down session with him. he honestly doesn’t mean it in a controlling way, he probably sees it as him relieving you of any unnecessary burdens, so you’ll have to make it clear to him you’d appreciate it if he lets you stand on your own 2 feet and would, well… for a lack of a better phrase, ‘just butt out’. at the end of the day, you’d rather be equals, partners in crime, not so much some micromanaged talent. come on, it’s understandable cass.

just for funsies... he’s probably unbuttoned his shirt a little more than necessary at least once. just to see if you’d respond to it. he’d seen the style begin to take off amongst the more cocksure pilots (that’s what he tried to tell himself. it was really just fueled by a shy desire to have you look at him like that, like the rebel full of swagger that he knows he isn't). it lasted a grand total of 12 hours before he caught a glimpse of his reflection and cringed a little bit, vanity be damned. the next time you saw him, his shirt was buttoned back up all the way again and he will never acknowledge the fact ever again.

#cassian andor x reader #star wars #cassian andor #rogue one #andor #cassian andor x you #our writing #cassian x reader #cassian andor headcanons #cassian andor x reader hcs #cassian andor x reader headcanons

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months

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"You want to kill Eddie?!" Nancy and Steve exclaimed.

Nancy and Steve stood in Hopper's cabin, staring at Hop in disbelief.

"Look, it's not ideal, but - "

"Going bald isn't ideal," Steve scoffed. "Killing Eddie after everything he's done for us: died for us, killed Vecna for us. . . This is beyond fucked. Jesus, no wonder you didn't want the kids here."

"He's a monster," Hopper said.

"He's still Eddie! Nothing about that's changed. He still has his mind. There's nothing controlling him anymore. Even when he was being controlled, he didn't even kill anyone," Nancy said. "He just gets a little thirsty for blood every now and then. Dr. Owens said he would be willing to set up something so he'd get blood delivered to him."

"It's basically a blood transfusion," Steve said. "He just drinks it."

"After everything that happened, with the town literally split down the middle, are you really willing to risk more lives for the slight chance that he wouldn't hurt someone?" Hopper asked.

"And are you really so blood thirsty that you would be willing to kill a man?" Nancy snapped. "Mike loves him, looks up to him. He was devastated when he heard he had died, and when he saw he was back. . .I'm not going to let you take that away from again. El has more kills under her belt, and I don't see you fighting to put her down."

"That's different," Hopper said softly.

"Is it?" Steve asked.

"Fine, but I'm not going to be the one responsible for him," Hopper growled.

"Fine! Steve and I will look out for him," Nancy said, her nostrils flaring.

"We will?" Steve asked, and Nancy gave him a look. "I mean, we will!"

Nancy grabbed his hand, glared at Hopper, and pulled Steve out of the cabin. It was strange seeing the sun again after months of it being hidden by a red sky. Jonathan was leaning against the railing, and he stared at their joined hands. Steve almost wanted to gloat. After wedging himself in between Steve and Nancy's relationship, he deserved it, especially since Steve tried to make friends with Jonathan during those months that Steve had been with Nancy after their first encounter with the Upside Down. That would be petty of Steve, and he still wasn't sure if he was with Nancy or not or if Nancy had broken up with Jonathan.

"I think maybe Hopper's right, Nance," Jonathan said.

"You want to kill him too," Nancy said in disbelief.

"Eddie died. And now there's something I don't know, reanimating his body. It needs blood. It was capable of taking on Vecna," Jonathan said. "It's strong. We should take it out before it takes us out while it's still weak. The town can't take any more monsters."

"His name is Eddie, not it. Eddie fucking Munson," Steve said.

"I get why you're worried. I do, but honestly, it's just fucking stupid how you're coming up with the solution," Nancy said. "It's a solution. Not the solution."

"I just want this to be over. For mom, for Hopper. For El. For Will!" Jonathan exclaimed.

"And how's Will going to feel knowing we didn't do anything to help Eddie?" Nancy asked.

"Man, your mom did everything to get Will free from the Mind Flayer. The only difference here is that Eddie's not possessed," Steve said. "He's still Eddie."

"How do you know, man?" Jonathan asked.

"I feel it in my gut, I just know," Steve said.

"If you get Nancy killed. . . "

"Nancy can make her own decisions, and nothing can stop her making them. She can also speak for herself. That was just a momentary lapse on my part," Steve said, and Nancy giggled.

"Whatever," Jonathan said.

"Steve, do you want to wait in the car? I have to talk to Jonathan," Nancy said.

"Sure, Nance," Steve said.

Steve walked to Nancy's car and leaned against it, waiting for her to finish talking. It went on for a while, and finally, they hugged. When they got done, Hopper came out and briefly spoke to Nancy. When she came back, her eyes were slightly red. He wanted to ask if she was okay, and part of it was for his own selfish reasons. He wanted to know if she ended it with him. Steve shook his head and climbed into the car.

"I think I might know where he might be," Nancy said.

"Where?" Steve asked.

"His old lot on Philadelphia. The house itself had burned down, and they recently finished putting a new house there. At least, that's what Hopper told me," she said. "No one's bought the place yet."

"Let's go," Steve said eagerly.

They drove in silence, leaving each other to their thoughts. Eventually, they pulled up to a modest one story dark blue house. It looked very new. Nancy cut the engine, took off her seatbelt, and shifted in her seat to look at him.

"I ended things with Jonathan," Nancy said.

"Yeah?" Steve perked up.

"Yeah. I just - it never should have started in the first place. I could say that it was my grief over Barb that drove me into his arms, but the truth is that it was my own stupidity that did it. I was lost, and I couldn't see the roads in front of me, and I didn't know which path to take," she said. "The truth is, though. . . "

"Yeah?"

"It's always been you, Steve," Nancy said softly.

She moved forward at the same time that he did, and their lips met in the middle. It felt differently than all the other times that he kissed her. It honestly felt so much better. The kiss didn't last very long, but it was very sweet. Steve looked at her, the soft smile on her face and the light in her eyes. . .it was because of him. He needed to be honest here.

"I need to be honest with you now, Nance, Eddie Munson's kind of gotten under my skin in a way that I didn't expect," Steve said. "And I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Yeah, for me too," Nancy said.

"So, you felt it too?" He asked.

"Felt what?" She asked.

"Uh. . . The attraction towards him," Steve said.

"What?! Oh, uh, yeah, I didn't realize that you also like guys," Nancy said.

"It's a new thing, actually," Steve blushed. "Or something that's always been there, I don't know. Still figuring it out, I guess."

"I want to be with you, Steve, all of you. I really want to do that. I do want to take things slow, though. I think we need to get to know each other all over again, and if Eddie's up for then, maybe we both get to know him too," Nancy said.

"All three of us?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"I'd like that," Steve said and Nancy laughed. "What?"

"I was just thinking of Eddie's collecting lost sheep thing. I think I have a type. You like to do that too," Nancy said. "It's very cute."

Steve and Nancy approached the front door. They attempted to open but found it to be locked. Nancy immediately pulled out a bobby pin.

"You know how to pick locks?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, Eddie told me how to," Nancy said.

"He showed me how to hotwire cars," Steve said with a grin.

"Hm, I wonder what other naughty things he could teach us," Nancy grinned.

Suddenly, the door unlocked, and it flew open. Eddie stood as far from the doorway as possible, staying away from the sunlight.

"Oh, so many things, Wheeler," Eddie said. "Come on in. Hmm. Weird thing for a vampire to say to humans."

Steve and Nancy entered the unfurnished house, closing the door behind them. They took in his appearance. He looked weak and pale, nothing like when they last saw him. He was still wearing the clothes he died in. He slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.

"Eddie. . . Have you eaten?" Nancy asked.

"I kind of been afraid. It's probably better this way. Waste away to nothing," Eddie mumbled.

"Don't say that! Why would you say that?" Nancy asked.

"Because it's bad enough being a human freak. Now, I'm a vampire? I was hunted by the entire town before this. What do you think they're going to do to me if they find out that I'm a monster?!" Eddie cried.

"You're not a monster. You just get a little thirsty for blood every once in a while," Steve said. "I mean, do you want to go on a bloodthirsty murderous rampage?"

"Well, no. My stomachs just a little growly like if I skipped a few meals which I have," Eddie said. "But what if they changes? What if I hurt someone?"

"Well, if that happens, then we'll put you down like the dog that you are," Steve quipped.

"Steve!" Nancy exclaimed, but Eddie just burst into laughter.

"We'll cross that bridge, but right now, you need to eat. Let's go get you an animal or something," Steve said. "What animal do you hate the most?"

"He needs to eat right now," Nancy said.

She pulled a pocket knife out of her boot and flicked it open. She rolled up her sleeve and cut into her arm. Nancy held out her arm to him, and he looked at them both doubtfully. She rolled her eyes, grabbed the back of his head, and moved his head until his lips were pressed against her skin. Steve watched as Eddie's eyes turned red as he sunk his teeth into her arm. Nancy stroked his hair gently as she gazed at him affectionately. She bit her lip, and her eyes darkened. Oh, this was turning her on. Right, right. Don't look at them. Think about something else. Jonathan's hair. Jonathan's hair. Oops, now he was thinking about Argyle and his hair. Turn it around, turn it around. Suddenly, Eddie pulled off Nancy's arm with a loud pop. He used his tongue to lap up the blood. Nancy looked at her arm in surprise.

"He healed the wound!" Nancy exclaimed. "Wonder what else you can do with your tongue?"

She shared a look with Steve while Eddie sat there looking confused.

"I'm still a little hungry, but I didn't want to take too much from you, Nancy," Eddie admitted, ignoring what she had just said.

"Well, take some from me then," Steve said as he sat down next to him.

"Big boy wants a turn," Eddie said in amusement.

Nancy cleaned her knife and handed it to Steve. He made a cut on his arm and held it out for Eddie. He leaned down and bit into Steve’s arm. Steve gasped. It wasn't as painful as he thought it was going to be with Eddie's fangs piercing his skin. In fact, he could see why it had turned Nancy on. He was starting to feel something, too. Jonathan's hair. Jonathan's hair. Yeah, that seemed to do the trick. Eddie pulled off with another pop and licked his wound. Eddie looked at them in confusion.

"Why do you guys look like you want to eat me? I'm supposed to be the vampire here, right?" Eddie asked with a frown, and then he tilted his head, his eyes wide. "Your hearts are racing awfully fast. Do you guys like me or something? . . . Jesus H Christ! You like me?! Why?!"

"There are lots of good reasons," Nancy said with a smile.

"Yeah, you guys are a couple of freaks," Eddie said with a grin.

"Thank God!" They exclaimed and Eddie laughed.

"Okay, I need a shower and a change of clothes, I fucking stink," Eddie said.

"My place then," Steve said with a smile.

With the help of a blanket from Nancy's car, they helped Eddie out of the house. As soon as they got to Steve’s house and he showed him where the bathroom, Eddie immediately peeled off his clothes. He tossed them out of the bathroom and closed the door. Steve and Nancy managed to catch a glimpse of his ass before he shut it.

"You can toss the clothes!" Eddie yelled. "I can get new ones! Not the wallet!"

Once Steve threw the clothes away, he left a pair of sweats and t shirt in the bathroom and waited in the kitchen with Nancy. When Eddie came down, he was only wearing the sweats, and his hair was dripping wet.

"God, I feel so much better," Eddie said and shook water droplets at them.

"Eddie!" Nancy shrieked.

He grinned as he wedged himself up behind them, wrapping his arms around their waists.

"Just so you know, I like you too," Eddie said. "Both of you."

Steve and Nancy grinned at each other. Eddie spotted the scar around Steve’s neck and frowned. He tilted Steve’s head up to get a better look at it and made a curious noise with his mouth.

"What?" Steve asked.

"I wonder if I can heal scars?" Eddie asked.

He leaned down and started licking his neck. He placed himself firmly behind Steve and pulled the other man flush against him. He bent down and began working on his neck, licking a long stripe against Steve’s skin. Eddie grinned when Steve shuddered. He continued to lick and nip even after it was healed.

"Eddie, it's all healed up now," Nancy said, smiling, and Eddie made a muffled noise. "Okay, I guess this is officially happening."

She moved herself in front of Steve and started kissing the other side of his neck.

"Oh, fuck," Steve cursed.

Eddie ran his hands up Steve’s sides, his hands disappearing under his shirt. He started to raise the material up while Nancy's hands went to Steve’s belt. Eddie had gotten his arms out of the shirt and was just about to get the thing over his head when the door to the kitchen opened. The shirt was being held over his face so Steve couldn't see a thing, but he heard Robin's voice.

"Hey, Steve, what's the verdict on Eddie - what the fuck?!" Robin exclaimed.

"Hey, Robin," Steve said casually. "What are you up to? Me? I'm not doing anything."

"Not yet," Eddie said.

"You know what? I'll come back later. Call me when you're done," Robin chuckled nervously. "Hm, maybe Steve is right. Maybe I should call first before I come over."

"I am right!" Steve exclaimed. "This proves it!"

Eddie laughed and freed Steve from his shirt, tossing it on the floor. Steve smirked at Nancy.

"What happened to taking things slow and getting to know each other?" Steve asked.

"We'll slow down after," Nancy said.

"Besides, getting to know your body counts. I mean, what if we go blind and Nancy suddenly forgets what your body looks like," Eddie said.

"As silly as it sounds, he's right," Nancy said in amusement. "Seize the day and all that."

And seize the day they did. . .several times. Turns out a vampire's stamina was through the roof. Steve was lying on his back, staring happily at the ceiling as Eddie and Nancy cuddled up against him on either side.

"Hmm, look at us, we're like a couple of nerdy bookends cuddling up to the handsomenest jock with the biggest heart in all the land," Eddie murmured sleepily.

"Hmm," Nancy agreed, her eyes closed. "This does feel right."

Steve smiled, drifting off to sleep, feeling completely safe with Eddie and Nancy in his arms. He felt like he could take on anything.