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dollfacefantasy · 3 months

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would you write a threesome w leon and chris… because… like maybe leon is your (older,,, like death island) boyfriend and he introduces you to his friend chris!! and idk you three end up having a threesome (consensual)… and you’re embarrassed because. you’ve never done this before n you’re all clingy with leon (maybe daddy kink??) n he’s like comforting you as he and chris fuck you at the same time ?!?!?

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: your boyfriend leon wants you to get a little more comfortable with his friend chris.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, double penetration, oral (f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, dacryphilia

word count: 6.6k

a/n: thank you anon for sending this idea, it's right up my alley fr. also thank you for sending it again after i fumbled the bag the first time🤭🫶. the next threesome fic will be coming soon, i just ended up having more inspo for this one lol. hope you guys like it. reblogs and comments are super appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“I’m just saying I think you both would really like it if you gave it a try,” you say, a bright smile on your face as you walk up the path to your and Leon’s shared place. Him and his friend trail behind you with equally pleased looks, the friend in question being Chris Redfield.

“No way. I did try it, and it was boring. Slow and drawn out. Also, it’s so unrealistic,” Chris says.

“Booooo. It’s not even slow. Stuff happens in like every single episode, at least in the early seasons,” you argue in an attempt to convince the pair to watch one of your favorite shows, “I just think there’s a lot you guys would like about it if you weren’t so impatient.”

“Babe, it’s got like, what? Over five seasons? I don’t have that kind of time,” your boyfriend replies.

You playfully roll your eyes and unlock the front door, stepping inside followed by the two men you were with. “Whatever. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go change cause this skirt is like super itchy,” you tell them.

Before you can walk away, you feel a familiar palm swat your ass. “It’s like super cute though, shows off those pretty legs,” Leon teases, his tone affectionately mocking.

You whip around to shoot him a glare, face hot with a mixture of emotions, mainly embarrassment with a pinch of arousal.

“Leon,” you whisper, giving him a look that says not in front of Chris.

He simply chuckles at your quiet protest and shakes his head with amusement, ruffling your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead before sending you off. You catch Chris’s gaze as you turn to leave. To your surprise, he isn’t rolling his eyes or visibly wishing for the two of you to get a room. He’s smiling. His expression is different from the one you were used to seeing on Leon, but it still held the same patronizing adoration that soaked your panties in seconds.

Brushing it off as your imagination, you scamper down the hall to the bedroom. You hum to yourself as you drop your skirt and kick it into the laundry. Rifling through your drawers to find something more comfortable to wear, your hands search through some different clothes before settling on a pair of loose pink shorts. After pulling the soft garment over your legs, you look in the mirror and then decide to slip your bra off too.

Sure, some people would frown on that move, but you were in your place and it’s not like Chris is a total stranger. He was one of your boyfriends closest friends. You’d hung out with him and Leon together multiple times, and from what you gathered, he was pretty cool. It’s not like the two of you were best friends yourself. Like your boyfriend, he was quite a bit older than you. But just as you bridged that gap with Leon, so far it seemed like you managed to bridge it with him too. To say the least, he didn’t strike you as the type to have an episode over your nipples peeking through your shirt.

Unbeknownst to you however, while your thoughts lingered on the men down the hall, their conversation centered around you as well. They had taken to the couch, sitting close to each side and leaving a space for you in the middle.

“She’s a cute little thing,” Chris chuckles, watching the hallway you had gone down.

“Mhm,” Leon confirms simply. He was scrolling through the tv, trying to find that show you’d been talking about.

His friend looks over at him. “You sure she’ll wanna do this?” he asks with some uncertainty in his voice, “She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’s had a whole lot of experience with this type of thing.”

“Trust me, she’ll be into it. I can’t even tell you how wet she gets just from talking about shit like this,” he reassures, “You just gotta let me ease her into it.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond, but he cuts himself short once he hears your footsteps approaching. You bound back into the room. Your eyes catch on the way they’re sitting, closer than you would expect. They still left room for you though, so what does it matter, right?

You hop onto the couch and tuck yourself against your boyfriend’s side, gently kissing his jaw as you get comfortable and curl up on the cushion. He smiles down at you and returns the affection. He pulls you closer, but your feet are still brushing Chris’s thigh with how close he is.

“We were thinking we could watch an episode of that show you were talking about, see if we really would like it,” Leon tells you.

“Really?” you ask, a little surprised, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine, baby. Chris doesn’t feel like driving home just yet, and you know if you’re happy, I’m happy,” he says.

You look over at Chris who nods. With that, Leon puts on the show. The familiar intro music plays and you watch the screen as a scene that you’d seen a million times plays out. You sink into his side, settling against his warm body. The episode plays, and you point out little things you like or remember something specific about. Both men nod and chuckle at your excited remarks.

Even though the couch and cuddling are comfy, your legs start getting a bit cramped from being curled up for an extended amount of time. You squirm around a bit, wanting to just stretch out. Chris prevented you from doing that as his bulky frame occupied the space your legs could be.

Leon smirks as he notices your restlessness. He shifts around a bit himself and leans back further into the couch. His feet rise up and land on the coffee table a few feet away, his legs stretching out in front of him. He doesn’t even have to see your face to know your eyes catch on his limbs. Their state of being outstretched only makes your need to do the same more intense. He gives Chris a quick glance.

“You uncomfortable, honey?” the larger man asks you.

Your eyes dart up to meet his. Hearing that pet name coming from anyone else but Leon left you flustered. You tried to reason that it didn’t mean anything. This was clearly another instance of you overthinking. Maybe Chris was just the type of guy who said that sort of thing? The kind that called cashiers sweetheart or darling. The kind who’d put your hand on your waist when saying excuse me. You didn’t remember him acting like this any of the other times you’d met him though. He was always polite with you, but that was about it. Maybe you just didn’t notice before?

“Um… I’m fine. Just a little cramp,” you explain.

He smiles at you, that same kind from earlier. “Well, I don't bite. You can stretch your legs out if you want to, princess,” he teases.

Princess. Ok that was definitely something. That name was reserved solely for the man whose arm was around you, and it usually came out only when he was prepping you to take his cock. You typically heard it as a coo when you were already crying out your own special name for him. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. The two just went hand in hand. Honestly, you couldn’t really hear one without the other following close behind.

That’s why you get all timid and shy so easily. You were pretty sure Leon had psychologically conditioned you or something. Just a few touches in the right place, some words whispered in your ear in the perfect hushed tone, and you were a goner. Suddenly, your brain would feel soft and malleable. Urges appear within you to sit in his lap and cuddle. You’d just wanna look up at your daddy with dazed eyes and have him stick something in your mouth.

And sure, it wasn’t like you were brainwashed or something. You still possessed self control. It wasn’t like he’d pet your head and call you his baby, and you’d instantly lose yourself over it. It was just a slow slip into this side of your personality, and being around Chris didn’t exactly deter those feelings from coming out either because just look at him. He looked like he was meant to be called daddy. Whenever Leon would tease you in front of him, it felt like you soaked your panties even quicker than normal.

You're snapped out of your analysis of this moment when you feel a large, warm hand wrap around your ankle. He pulls your leg out, and in-turn, drags you closer. A soft squeak escapes you as your body slides down Leon’s. Your back is still resting against his side, just lower. More of you is spread across the sofa, and your calves were fully in Chris’s lap.

You look up at your boyfriend to see his response to his friend’s action, but he didn’t even seem interested. He barely spared you a second glance in your new position, simply adjusting his arm to accommodate the new location of your head. He wraps it below your jaw and has you rest your chin on the bend of his elbow. His fingers start rubbing soothing, little circles on your shoulder. Meanwhile, Chris’s large palms merely rest on your legs. He gives you a smile before turning his eyes back to the tv screen. You quickly follow suit. If he wasn’t thinking this was weird, you weren’t going to make it weird by dwelling on it.

For a while, it’s fine. The three of you continue watching the show, albeit a little more quiet than before. Leon’s hand remains on your shoulder and keeps up his light touches. Your body relaxes again though as you let go of any nervousness you had. But then, Chris starts moving his hand too.

His palm smooths out over your lower leg. His other hand rubs your ankle, his fingertips coasting over the joint. One is moving in long strokes while the other stays in tight circles, but both go at a sensual pace, slow and teasing.

Your head turns to look at him again, but you find his stare is still on the characters of the tv show. You watch his hands move. They’re now essentially massaging your legs. His hand that had been lower has risen and works on the muscles, digging his warm digits into the flesh.

You squirm a little, trying to alert your boyfriend that his friend was touching you in a way that seemed more than friendly. It doesn’t work though. If he does see, he doesn’t mind because he simply leans down and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head before reverting to his same position. You almost felt crazy for a second. This wasn’t normal, was it? Had you just lived your life not knowing that it was a regular thing for a boyfriend’s friend to give you a massage like this? Was Leon ok with it cause he was there so it couldn’t go too far? You really had no clue.

If you were being honest though, Chris’s hands didn’t feel bad. Not at all. They felt really good. They were big and warm and moved with strategy. They hit all your sweet spots. Kinda made you wanna crawl into his lap so he could rub more of your body, but that was the problem. This wasn’t right. You felt that saccharine heat creeping up your spine and seeping into your head, but you shouldn’t be feeling that for anyone else besides the man behind you.

Now guilt casts a shadow over you too, and the pair of emotions was a volatile mix. You didn’t even realize it, but your nipples had started to stiffen. Your thighs shift against each other, and had you really been paying attention, you would have seen the way Chris’s lips slightly quirked up into a smirk. Your body gets a little tense as you run through the possibilities of what you should do in this situation.

As if Leon could sense your thoughts racing, his hand lowers and starts rubbing your arm. Deciding to remain where you are for now, you press your cheek against his bicep for comfort. Not that you could see, but just like Chris, his expression grows smug. His hand readjusts again so it’s closer to your chest. Your eyes widen as he basically starts feeling you up. His hand squeezes your breast before his fingers circle your nipple, gently tweaking the hardened bud.

At the same time, the hands on your legs start moving higher. The broad strokes begin meeting your thighs too. Little bumps of anticipation erupt across your skin. You already knew your center would soon be slick.

Your head feels hot now. It made you feel a weird kind of dizzy. Even though it was only a few hands and simple touches, it was so much. Combined with the fact that it was so unusual, you started feeling overwhelmed. Your pulse pounds in your ears and your hands feel tingly. You feel a whimper rising in your throat. When he finally glides his hands up to the hem of your shorts, your legs jerk and you scoot back.

By the time Chris looks over, you’re already in Leon’s lap, arms around him, face buried against his neck. He’s worried for a second that something was seriously wrong. Profuse apologies rush to the tip of his tongue, but Leon signals him to just wait.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” he coos, a hand sliding beneath your shirt to rub your back. Of course, he knew the answer already. He knew exactly how you got with this kind of stuff which is why he knew exactly how to handle it.

You end up simply shaking your head, unable to articulate the exact reason for your distress. Because really, nothing was wrong. Everything felt right. But it shouldn’t feel right? Maybe that’s what was wrong. That’s too much for your mouth to get out while you feel like this though.

“Aw, is my pretty girl feeling shy?” he whispers and strokes your hair.

You nod, pulling back a little to reveal your face and look up at the familiar set of eyes you found so much comfort in. He gives you a small kiss of reassurance before continuing to coax you with his low and soothing tone.

“Oh sweetheart, why are you shy? You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” he says.

“Because…” you start softly, nervously glancing at Chris only to see him watching the entire exchange. You force your attention back to your boyfriend. “Because Chris is here.”

His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “Oh, princess. That’s not a reason. Didn’t you like how Chris was touching you? Wasn’t he making you feel good?”

“I guess…” you admit.

“See? You don’t have to be embarrassed around daddy’s friend. He only wants to play with you because you’re so cute,” he teases and lands a barrage of kisses on your cheek.

You were going to freak out about him using the d word in front of someone else, but looking over at Chris, he didn’t look at all shocked. His eyes were soft and comforting as they watched you, but you were still a little uncertain. You turn your face back into Leon. He keeps rubbing your back and holds you a little closer on his lap.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. I just think you’d have a lot of fun,” Leon says softly, “You know how wet that pretty pussy gets thinking about someone else watching you with daddy, joining in because he just can’t resist a good girl like you.”

He was right. He knew your fantasies like the exact situation playing out in your living room right now. But it was scarier when it was real. You didn’t have the control anymore. That's what made it exciting too though.

“It’s just Chris, honey,” he continues reassuring you, “He’d never hurt you. He thinks you're as precious as I do. But even still, daddy’s gonna be here the whole time. You know I’d never let anything hurt my girl.”

You soften up more, relaxing under Leon’s touch and tender words. As you’re thinking it over, leaning towards going through with this, Chris scoots closer to the two of you on the couch. He tentatively places his hand on your leg and caresses your skin.

“It’s up to you, babydoll,” he says, “I only wanna help your daddy make you feel good.”

Oh god. He was a natural at this, talked down to you just the way you liked.

“See, princess? There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Leon says. He strokes some of your hair back and watches as you look at the other man, deciding whether to let him in or not. He chuckles in your ear. “He’s acting cool, but you don’t know how bad he’s been wanting a turn with you. I’m sure you’ve seen him staring. Sometimes I think he’s practically drooling watching you. You know he goes home and strokes his dick raw, wishing it was your pretty little hands instead.”

It’s obvious there’s some truth to Leon’s statement from the way Chris remains silent. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you mull it over. Why was it so bad? You wanted it and they both wanted it. Why should you stop yourself?

You look up at your boyfriend and nod, silently communicating that you wanted this. He smiles and shifts you in his lap so that you’re in a more accessible position. One hand rubs your inner thighs while his other arm stays wrapped around your body to hold you close.

Upon seeing your confirmation, Chris comes even closer. As he gets situated, Leon leans in and connects his lips with yours in a few soft kisses. Your noses brush and breathing deepens. He strokes your cheek before pulling away and looking in your eyes.

“Why don’t you try that with Chris, baby? Give him some of those kisses he’s been dreaming about,” he breathes.

Your focus shifts to the man sitting to your boyfriend’s right. Eyes casting down, you bring your head forward, and Chris closes the gap. Your breath hitches when you feel the unfamiliar lips meet your own. They’re noticeably different from the pair you were used to, but it wasn’t a bad different.

You move your lips with his, shuddering a little when you feel him grunt. He struggles not to take more than what you give. Leon watches on with a grin, stroking your hair and making sure it was out of your face. Your hand maintains an iron grip on him the entire time.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs in your ear.

All three of you had long stopped paying attention to the tv, so Leon shuts it off. He then leans in to suck little love bites onto your throat. You whine into your kisses with his friend. The sound causes you to open your mouth, allowing Chris to slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan and reciprocate the advance. His smiles against your lips as his hand glides up and gropes at one of your breasts, drawing another whimper from you.

Several hickeys later, Leon removes his mouth from your neck to admire his work. His fingers drag over the wet, darkened skin. He licks one more stripe over the area before leaning back and pulling you with him. You’re slightly out of breath, eyes dilated, and lips a bit puffy.

“Aw, look at that face,” Leon teases, talking more to Chris than you, “She loves her kisses. Sometimes I think she likes it more than the actual fucking.”

“I could tell. All those sweet sounds she was making,” Chris chuckles. His chest rises and falls in a pattern similar to yours.

“Oh yeah, so sensitive, my baby,” Leon coos, “You wanna go sit in Chris’s lap and give him some more kisses?”

You shake your head and tighten your grip on his hand. They both smile at your timid display.

“My mistake. You just gotta give her some time to adjust. She’s not used to anyone but daddy. Isn’t that right?” Leon jokes.

You nod and snake your arms around him, hiding your face against his chest again. He couldn’t get enough of how clingy you became when you felt like this.

“No, no. No more being shy. C’mon, his lips still have your spit on ‘em. There’s no reason for you to hide,” he teases you and guides your head back up to see your eyes, “You still wanna do this, don’t you?”

You nod again, looking up at him with those loving eyes.

“That’s what I thought, so how about this?” he starts. He gets your arms to unlock from their position around him and tucks his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “How about we show daddy’s friend more of this precious body, yeah?”

You lift your arms and allow him to tug the fabric up and over your head. Your breasts spring free, but his hands are immediately there to cup them, knead the flesh, and tease your nipples. From his place next to the two of you, Chris’s eyes drop to the swell of your chest.

“You’re even prettier than Leon told me, baby,” he coos before leaning in, giving you one more kiss and then trailing his lips down the side of your throat. They glide over the warm skin and across the expanse of your chest.

Your boyfriend’s hands drop from your breasts, letting Chris’s take their place. You shift and lean back so your back is pressed to Leon’s chest, giving the other man more access. He fondles them before latching his mouth onto a nipple, his tongue swirling around the little peak. A little sigh escapes your lips to the pleasure of both men.

“I think she likes that, Chris,” Leon croons, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Chris sucks on the pebbled nub a bit more before alternating to the other one. He spends less time over there before just kissing all over your chest.

“Got such pretty tits,” he grunts, laving a tongue across your skin.

Your face heats up at the compliment, and of course, Leon knew without even having to look. He could tell by the slight way you squirmed your hips on his lap.

“Aw, princess. You like when daddy’s friend calls you pretty?” he coos. Once he sees your little nod, he continues. “How about you let him pull down your shorts and see how cute your cunt is next.”

You agree to this with no hesitation, trying to elevate your hips so he could remove your clothing. Chris smirks at your overt desire. In a quick move, he scoots back and pulls by your hips so that you’re laying across the couch again. Your head is on Leon’s thigh so you can look up at him while your fingers remain tightly interlaced with his.

The larger man peels your shorts off and then your panties. He gazes upon your dripping cunt. His thumb drags up and down through your slick in an exploratory touch.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, circling your clit. His hand moves down again before he slides two fingers into your hole. “You’re gonna take our cocks so well. Pussy this pretty is made for that.”

You suck in a gasp that turns into a long whine as his digits fill you up. His fingers were nice and thick, filling you up just right. Your eyes flutter, and your head presses against Leon’s thigh. Chris starts pumping them in and out, stroking your inner walls.

“That’s right, baby,” Leon reassures you, “He’s gonna open you up, and you’re gonna feel so good.”

A breathy whimper falls from your lips. Your hips rock a little, but Chris allows it, enjoying your enthusiasm as you become more comfortable. You feel his fingers curling within you in motions that drive you wild and have your hands grabbing at the edges of the couch cushion beneath you.

“There you go, sweet baby. Am I doing it right?” Chris asks teasingly. With your frantic nod, he works a third finger into you. Your eyes roll back and you choke out a moan.

Leon smiles down at you and strokes your hair. His bulge grows harder, watching you get so wound up for his friend.

“Make sure you rub her pretty little clit, Chris. She loves that,” he says, “Might be a little sore since she likes to play with it so much.”

Chris grins at that, taking his turn to tease you now. “Is that right? You like playing dirty, princess? I bet you can’t help it. Cute girls like you get needy so easy. Can’t think without making yourself cum every few hours, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

“I’ll be gentle then. Think your sweet spot just needs some special kisses,” he coos.

He bends down so his mouth can be level with your cunt, a bit of a challenge with his size, but he manages. His lips meet your clit and give you some soft kisses. A little flick of the tongue and the light movement of his flesh against your sensitive bundle of nerves has your walls fluttering around him, little mewls escaping your lips.

Then, with a harsh suck to your clit, he works a fourth finger inside you. Your legs kick a little, but he simply slides them to rest on his shoulders. Every little twitch next to his head has more of his blood rushing south. Your hips buck too as you adjust to the minor stretch.

“You’re daddy’s perfect girl, you know that right? Girl of my fuckin’ dreams. Doing so good for me right now,” your boyfriend says from above you. His eyes watch on fondly as Chris slides basically his entire hand in and out of you. “Think you can cum for Chris, baby? Gush all over his fingers so it’s nice and easy for him and daddy to fill you up?”

You nod quickly.

Chris sucks harder on your clit and flicks his tongue against you with more fervor. His hand finds a rhythm that you seemed to like, had you twitching more than before. He could hear your voice rising to a higher pitch.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make your daddy proud,” he murmurs against your folds.

You really don’t know what it was, but that phrase does you in. You turn your face against Leon’s hip, dig your fingers into his palm, and erupt into a frenzy of whining and bucking your hips.

Chris continues his efforts, relishing the sensation of your slick coating his fingers and palm. His lips gradually loosen on your swollen bud. He gives it a few more licks before sitting up and gazing down at your blissed out body.

They both give you a second to rest before Leon sits you up on the couch. He gives you a quick kiss and looks into your eyes, hazy from release.

“Think you’re ready for daddy and Chris to fuck you?” he coos and rubs your cheek.

“Mhm,” you hum, returning his loving stare.

“Of course you are. My sweet girl,” he says.

The two men don’t waste time undressing themselves. Clothing piles up on the ground as they match your nudity. Both of them stand as they undo their belts and drop their pants. You’d seen Leon’s dick a hundred times by now. You watch him pull it out and give it a few strokes. The tip flushes bright red like always, a couple familiar veins span up the side. You turn your attention to Chris, looking upon a sight you hadn’t seen before.

You’re snapped out of your post-orgasm stupor when you catch a glimpse of the appendage hanging between Chris’s legs. Just like every other part of him, it’s noticeably thick. The length was good too, sure, but it wasn’t the main attraction. His cock didn’t get as red as Leon’s, but it still had the veins. He even had a few beads of white, sticky precum leaking from the head.

“Oh, you like what you see, baby?” Leon teases when he notices your wonder, “I’m sure Chris would be happy to let you suck on it next time.”

“Daddy, it’s not gonna fit,” you say, looking up at him and ignoring the tempting idea of giving Chris a blowjob.

He smiles down at you, simultaneously condescending and affectionate. “Of course it will. C’mere, princess,” he says.

In no time at all, Leon’s back on the couch, guiding you on top of him. You crawl to meet the place he’s directing you. Lowering yourself against him, your front rests against his and your head lies near the crook of his neck. The warmth of his body comforts you but not enough to push out your concerns completely.

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you nice and comfy on daddy’s cock, and then Chris will just slide right in,” he reassures you, “You’re gonna feel so good. You just let me take care of everything.”

His arm had already slithered beneath your hip to line up his shaft with your entrance. He runs the tip through your soaked folds then pushes in. A whiny moan escapes you, and your arms wrap tighter around him. The feeling wasn’t a new one, but it still felt so good. He works himself in and out slowly, hips rocking off the couch in small thrusts.

“That’s my girl, taking it just like you’re meant to. I’ve got you trained so well,” he murmurs against your hair.

The entire time, you feel Chris’s eyes on you. His pupils fixated on the sight of Leon pumping in and out of your gushing cunt. You hear him spit down onto his hand and know he’s started to stroke himself in anticipation. Other than that, he stays quiet, locked onto you sucking up every inch of your boyfriend's cock.

Leon continues gliding in and out. You feel the muscles in his chest and neck straining with the pleasure your pulsing walls give him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Chris did a good job with you,” he groans. His breaths become ragged as he staves off true euphoria. This couldn’t end too quickly. “You know, babydoll, I don’t think you said thank you to Chris for making you feel so good. That’s not very nice.”

You whimper as your brain registers the implication of his words. At the moment, you were more focused on rolling your hips with Leon’s, but you force some words out of your mouth cause you’re a good girl after all.

“Sorry daddy,” you say, cut off by a whine as he pokes a sensitive spot, “T-thank you, Chris.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he responds. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, but you don’t have the chance to linger on it since you feel his broad palm land on the small of your back. His fingers rub the skin gently, as if to keep you calm while he positions himself on his knees behind you. You whine again and cling harder to Leon.

“You can say thank you better than that, baby,” he teases, trying to keep any fear away from you. He presses a kiss to your temple as well and rubs your back, “What are you thanking him for?”

“Thank you for making me cum, Chris. Your fingers and kisses felt so good,” you whimper, adding on the last bit before Leon could correct you further.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he repeats with excessive adoration, “You deserve it for being such a good girl. Besides, that pussy was so fucking sweet, makes me want another taste.”

You squeeze around Leon and bite your lip as your lower belly erupts with butterflies. And then you feel it. You feel the hot tip of Chris’s heavy cock nudging at your entrance above Leon’s. You tense and dig your fingers into the flesh of his back.

“Just relax, baby. You’re gonna be just fine. Daddy’s right here,” he coos and holds you tighter against his chest.

“You ready?” Chris asks softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut but nod, waiting to feel the stretch.

And it comes right away. You gasp as another cock enters you. Whining, your hands scramble to grab at something. Leon takes one and squeezes it lovingly, pausing his thrusts. You bury your face against his skin, your chest erratically puffing as you try to accommodate the sizes. Both men are groaning, eyes fluttering or rolled back, muscles flexing as they take in the tight, wet heat engulfing them.

“Doing so good, pretty girl, so good,” Leon mutters.

You can’t fathom any kind of response. The burning sensation of both of them was still so intense and from what you could tell, Chris wasn’t even all the way in yet. He was still pushing forward as far as he could. At a certain point, you can’t fight off the tears pricking at your waterline. Your free hand clamps over your mouth as a choked cry tumbles out.

“So fucking tight, I could cum right now,” Chris grunts.

Leon’s hand covers your right hip, tracing tiny soothing circles over your skin. Chris occupies your left, digging his fingers into the flesh. The subtle difference between the two sides drives you further into the throes of ecstasy.

When Chris manages to bully his cock nearly all the way inside you, as deep as it could go at least, Leon feels your hot tears sliding off your cheeks and pooling on his chest.

“Oh, poor baby,” he croons. He lets go of your hand for a second to swipe a few drops away, but then he takes it back. “You ok, honey? Too much for you?”

You weakly shake your head that it wasn’t too much, sniffling between whimpers. They’ve both stopped now to let you get used to the entirety of them. The site of your connection pulses with need on all three accounts. You feel Chris gripping you a little harder in an effort to keep his composure.

“My tough girl, so brave for daddy. Makin’ me so proud,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

“So fuckin’ pretty too. You look gorgeous all filled up like this,” Chris moans from behind you.

His gaze remains on his and Leon’s cocks splitting you open. He starts rocking his hips a bit, groaning at the combined feeling of your slick walls with Leon’s length rubbing against his. Leon starts moving again too.

You let out a sound that’s between a yelp and a moan. Both of Leon’s arms snake around you to keep you engulfed in his embrace. He’s more vocal than usual, the mix of stimulation getting to him as well.

“That’s right. You keep crying for your daddy. Let me hear how much you need me. Just cry it out like the good little girl you are,” he mumbles against you.

Once you’ve become comfortable with the stretch, it starts feeling better than you’d imagined. In tandem, they’re stroking every part of you. They slide in and out, back and forth, pulling soft whines from you. The only noise apart from the three of you grunting and moaning, is the obscene noises that come from them pumping into your wet pussy. You feel your ability for coherent thoughts slipping away. You just wanted to be full of your daddy and his friend.

Chris smacks your ass while picking up his pace a bit. “Now she’s getting into it,” he says.

You get a little louder to both their enjoyment. Grabbing at Leon a little more, you shudder while hearing moans bubble up from his chest and out of his mouth.

“That’s cause you’re such a good girl. Right baby?” he asks, his voice breathier, “So good at whining for your daddy’s cock.”

You nod without a second thought. You’re panting a bit as the thrusts start hitting just right. Your expressions and the tightening of your cunt give you away. You hear both of them groaning and getting a little more primal with their movements.

“You feel that, Chris? She’s getting closer. Can always tell by the way her pussy starts trying to keep me in. So desperate for some cum,” Leon says.

“Yeah. I can feel her cute little cunt begging for it,” Chris growls.

They’re both going harder, making your mind get all fuzzy and causing more tears to fall, although by this time they’re purely tears of pleasure. Your cries are whiny and needy.

“My baby, my baby,” Leon grunts while lacing his fingers in your hair, “I want you to cum for me, ok? Wanna feel you cumming all over our cocks. Show Chris how good you make me feel every single night when you start clamping down on me.”

You don’t finish right then. It takes a handful more thrusts from each of them to hit the right buttons and work you over that edge, dropping you into a pool of euphoria. The bliss washes over you, and as Leon described, your pussy squeezes around them in waves. They’re both moaning now, grabbing you harder, sighing and gasping. You twitch on top of Leon, and he holds you close and helps you through it.

“Look at that sweet face. Always so pretty when you let go,” he mumbles just for you to hear, “Keep cumming, dolly. Want you feeling like you’re in heaven.”

Leon’s the first to blow his load, shooting it deep inside you. He pumps it in while you’re still releasing. His own hips twitch and buck while that hot, sticky liquid flows from him.

Chris takes a bit longer, savoring every last moment he has inside your precious cunt. He keeps thrusting after you’ve finished, making you squirm with the slight overstimulation. Leon hisses too, feeling the friction from his movements against his dick.

When he finally does cum, your body is overtaken with a shiver. He fucks it deep into you. His thrusts don’t weaken while he spills it inside of you. He keeps moving in powerful strokes until he’s satisfied.

After he’s truly done, Chris leans down and kisses the space between your shoulder blades. “So good, pretty baby,” he praises softly before pulling out.

It feels weird just having Leon’s dick in you. It’s your normal but so strange now too. He slides himself out next though, so there isn’t too much time to fester on that. Sitting up, he pulls you with him while covering your face in kisses.

Everyone is laid back right now, letting the post-high wear off as you all come down. You stay curled up to Leon like you always did after finishing. He rubs your back like normal, knowing your head was most likely still up in the clouds. Eventually, all of your breathing steadies and returns to a regular pace.

Your hazy eyes open and gaze over at Chris. “Thank you Chris,” you say, tone a bit dreamier than it usually is.

“You’re welcome, honey,” he says, smiling at you.

“Look at you, so polite,” Leon teases, “By the looks of it, you’re gonna be sitting on Chris’s lap soon enough and leaving me on the sidelines.”

You shake your head and nuzzle him. All of you take a brief moment to finish the descent back to normalcy. Chris stands to pull on his pants again.

“We’ll get there one of these days,” he jokes.

“I don’t know about that. This one’s a daddy’s girl before anything else,” Leon says, before smooching your forehead.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #smut #chris redfield x y/n #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x you #chris redfield smut #chris redfield imagine

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。WINTER — ITOSHI SAE.

you love that sae gets to play soccer, that he’s happy doing what he does best—that much is true. what you don’t love, however, is when he leaves to play soccer. you watch with sulky pouts and sullen expressions every time as he packs his bags for a game away, huffing as he takes that hoodie you like instead of leaving it for you.

i like that one, you’ll always say bitterly. it’s a different hoodie every time, and you know he knows you say that just to be whiny—but he never says as much, and a small part of you appreciates it.

you like all of them, he always says blankly, and then you sit and mourn that one hoodie you can’t have from him—even as he leaves you the rest of them at your disposal.

this time is no different. sae leaves the first day of winter, the frigid air kissing your skin as you shiver at the front door, standing with a pout on your face as he turns to you.

“see you in three weeks,” he says, an arm looping around you to give you a brief hug. you sniffle—and you feel silly, you feel like you must seem pathetic every time. it’s three weeks not three decades.

but the bed is colder without sae to keep you warm in the harshness of winter nights, and breakfast is lonely without someone to listen to you babble away, and tv is boring when you can’t share snacks and make fun of the poor choices of blandly written main characters.

you’re silly and a bit childish to cry like this every time—but you can’t help it. you’re happy that sae gets to play soccer, you just can’t ever get used when he’s away.

“i’ll miss you,” you croak, “don’t forget about me, okay? i’ll die.”

“so dramatic,” he rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft and his hand rubs those soothing circles into the small of your back, and you think maybe you’re not so annoying if he treats you so softly, so gentle and sweet even if it’s a bit stiff and blunt like him.

it’s cold—it’s dry and the wind is harsh and sae should really get going if he wants to make it to the airport on time, but you’re sniffling into his shoulder. perhaps there are more pressing things to worry about for now.

“are you gonna miss me too?” you ask, poking his shoulder a few times, “you will right? you’ll be so lonely without me right? so super sad?”

“you’re too much,” he grunts, but his grip tightens around you anyway—as if to say, yes. as if to say i’ll miss you every day, and i’ll keep missing you even when i’m back. “it’s three weeks,” he says flatly, “you’ll live.”

“what if i die? would you come back for my funeral even if you’d miss your game? you would right? don’t let them pick a bad picture of me.”

“i’ll pick the ugliest one i can find,” he grumbles, making you slap his shoulder with a gasp.

“i hope you get stuck sitting next to a crying baby on your flight,” you sulk.

“i’m stuck with a crying baby at home too,” he mutters, “what’s the difference?” you can almost feel him smile even if you can’t see it.

sae doesn’t smile too often—that’s what everyone else will say, anyway. you tell them differently though, that he smiles often, that he’s pretty and soft and innocent under the dim lights of your living room or the gentle rays of sun under the morning sheets. and it’s always small, the way his lips stretch—it’s barely noticeable and all too brief. but his muscles move before his brain thinks, and just a quick glance at you is enough to make his eyes soften and his mouth twitch.

itoshi sae leaves you alone at home on the first day of winter, and he realizes he falls in love with you a little more every season. he loves you through the gentle breeze of summer and the vibrant petals of spring, he sees pieces of you in the warm hues of autumn everywhere he goes—and when winter comes and the harsh chill settles under his bones, he realizes it’s your body he wants against his to ease the ache of the brittle cold.

“you’re rude.”

“i gotta go,” is all he says. “i’ll see you in three weeks?”

and he always does that—always asks if he’ll see you like he has to make sure you’ll be here, waiting with warm arms and a soft smile and those kind eyes of yours that he doesn’t deserve but can’t possibly forget.

“yeah,” you mumble softly, “yeah. see you in three weeks sae. be safe,” you mumble against his shoulder.

this is the hard part.

if you had to pick, the hardest part is where you let go—the part where your body screams for the heated press of his as it pulls away. it’s always easier for sae than it is for you, always simpler for him to reason it’s only three weeks and walk away. because he’ll come back—he always does, and you don’t think he’ll ever stop. but it’s the hardest part anyway, and you hate it. and you wish, selfishly deep down, that it’d be just a bit hard for him too.

“i’ll see you in three weeks,” he repeats again, as if to reassure you.

but this time, he still doesn’t let go. he doesn’t make a move to leave like usual. then it hits you all at once—you realize maybe it’s not just you he says it for, that maybe sae, under his blank stare and blunt words, doesn’t think it’s any easier than you do when he walks away.

so you nod slowly, “three weeks. shouldn’t be too bad,” you whisper.

“no,” he says quietly, “you’ll live.”

and then his arms squeeze you tighter, and his breath exhales slowly, and he presses a kiss to your forehead that can’t be anything other than stalling—and suddenly, you realize maybe it’s never been as easy for sae as you think it has.

“i’ll live,” you agree softly, “i’ll have to since i can’t let someone get away with picking an ugly picture for my funeral.”

he chuckles at that—it’s a sound he doesn’t really make that often, but somehow, it’s one that bleeds into every moment with you. so you turn your head and kiss his hair, squeeze around his waist and keep him warm outside your door as the cold wind of winter grazes your skin.

“don’t die,” he says, “i’ll be back.”

“i won’t,” you giggle, “bye, baby. i love you. see you in three weeks.”

“yeah,” he hums. and finally, he pulls away. your body’s gone and so is your warmth, but sae’s not cold—doesn’t think he can be when his heart burns like that in his chest. “love you too,” he mumbles, flicking your forehead before he turns around and walks out the door, “and don’t forget to watch me win.”

idk i just think sae w a dramatic lover is a dynamic we need — aka me projecting LMAO.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#sae x reader #sae x you #sae fluff #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 25 - Opening gifts

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,674 | rated: T

hello again friends! this one is late (again, i'm sorry 😭) but here's the next part for day 25!! I had a great holiday and i hope you all did too!!

The whirlwind of the next couple days surprises him; after dinner on the 21st, there was a whole two days where he didn’t see Steve at all.

He was out of town on the 22nd alltogether for what Robin called “The Harrington Fake As Fuck Holiday Tour”, off seeing his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, and the 23rd is when Wayne’s plant had their Christmas potluck.

He may not have liked the holiday season all that much in the years before this, but who is he to turn down a full day of food?

It was on the way home from said potluck that Eddie realized.

“Oh fuck..”

“Hm?” Wayne hums from the driver’s seat.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck! I don’t have a present for him!” Eddie whips his head around to gape at the side of his uncle’s face, “Wayne, I don’t have a present for Steve!”

Wayne huffs out a breath, a low “Goddammit, boy.” coming out with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sounds like you’re goin’ shoppin’ tomorrow, Ed.” he’s still shaking his head.

“I don’t have the cash for that, what am I supposed to do? What do you get your brand new boyfriend for Christmas?” Eddie pauses. “Wait, are we boyfriends?”

“Y’do know you two were friends before you were maybe boyfriends, right?” Wayne says, “What were ya gonna give him?”

“I was going to make him a battle jacket–but that’s not nearly good enough, Wayne! He only wore mine that one time! What was I thinking, he doesn’t wear vests, he needs something better, I need more cash, he needs something-–”

“Calm down Eds, take a breath.” Wayne takes a hand off the wheel to clasp a hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “Steve will appreciate literally anything you give him, he even liked it when you kissed him,”

“Shut up,”

“And you may be right,” Wayne shrugs, taking his hand off Eddie’s shoulder to do so, “He might not be a vest kinda guy, but what if ya, now hear me out on this, leave the sleeves on the damn thing?”

Eddie turns to blink stupidly at his uncle, now gazing at him as if over a pair of invisible glasses.

They both burst out laughing, “Okay, okay, I’ll still make him the jacket…though I don’t know if I have enough patches.”

Wayne only scoffs at him, turning his attention back to the road when the light turns green, “That’s a damn lie and you know it.”

“I don’t!” “You have a whole fuckin’ shoebox of ‘em in that closet of yours! You dump it out every time you add something to your own vest.”

“Let me rephrase: I don’t have enough Steve patches.”

“The hell is a Steve Patch?”

A Steve Patch, as Wayne soon finds out, is one of any number of patches Eddie may get his grubby paws on that isn’t something to do with one of the bands he listens to, or something to do with that game he likes.

“It’s gotta be things he likes, right?”

“Sure,” Wayne nods from his recliner, not bothering to look up from his paper at the pile of patches and miscellaneous bobbins of thread that his nephew has dumped all over their coffee table. “Or you can add a few that’ll remind him of you and take him to get more’a his own later. Make a day of it.”

His silence makes Wayne look up. Eddie’s gaping at him.

“What?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”

“Hmph,” he says, and goes back to reading.

Eddie’s hushed ‘Ow!’s and ‘Fuck!’s mingle with the low radio playing through the rest of their evening.

Steve’s old-new jacket was thrifted a couple months ago now, the denim only a couple shades darker than the denim of his own vest, and Eddie’d immediately brought it home and told Wayne of his plan.

His uncle had called him on his intentions almost as quick, saying “He must be pretty special, huh?”

So Eddie worked through the night, moving into his own room come about three on the morning of the 24th to let Wayne sleep in peace. In the end, he only had four patches to add to the jacket: an Ozzy patch for Steve’s similar bat chomping prowess, one of the KISS logo since Steve had really taken to a few of their songs, a D20 for him and the rest of the party, and a scruffy-looking BMW patch he’d found at the same time he’d found the jacket; but the longer part of his work was the painstakingly embroidering a scattering of bats up the left arm of the jacket, and the best copy of Steve’s spiked nailbat he could manage along the backside of the right forearm, putting the spiked end close to the end of the sleeve.

He packed it up carefully, in a box that previously held kindling (old notes leftover from school), wrapping it up with a couple sheets of the last months’ Funnies, and laid down to catch at least a couple hours.

-x-

A few hours later, Eddie finds himself on the Harringtons’ front steps.

Steve should be back by now, of course, and the rest of the party he knows will be at home with the rest of their families. It is Christmas Eve, of course.

He hoped to just drop by to give Steve his gift, but he secretly hoped Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would continue to be America’s Greatest Parents and make themselves scarce for the fifth year in a row.

Aw fuck, that’s a shitty thing to think, hoping that his boyfrien—best frien—frien— Steve’s parents would be gone so Steve would have time for him?

How did Steve find it in him to like Christmas so damn much if his parents were always gone? Was Robin even telling the truth? Have they really been gone each of the past four?

Eddie’s almost-panicked contemplation is interrupted when Steve opens the door.

“Eds, hi! What are yo—”

“How do you like Christmas so much?”

“Uh..what?”

Damn it Eddie, this is not the time for this. “Nevermind, nevermind, hey Stevie; can I come in?”

“Yeah, o’course.” He steps out of the way of the door and closes the door behind Eddie when he enters. “What brings you by? Not doing anything with Wayne?”

“He’s working tonight, so our only plans are cinnamon rolls for breakfast in the morning.” he shrugs.

Steve nods, “So what’ve you got there, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s heart swoops at the name, “I uh, got you something.”

“You did?” His face looks incredibly fond.

“Yeah, so you better have gotten me something too, big boy.” Eddie huffs, wrestling with the laces on his boots “I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get these off.”

Suddenly, Steve’s down on one knee in front of him and reaching for his leg. “Give it here before you fall over.”

Steve hooks one hand around the back of his heel, and the other makes quick work of the fraying laces. Eddie quite likes to think he was holding it together just fine, thank you, until Steve’s hand moves from his laces to the back of his knee.

Eddie’s face flushes fast, and his boot is off in the next second.

Who the fuck has a knee-pit thing?

Steve sets down that leg and carefully lifts the other for the same treatment.

Okay, maybe it’s just a ‘Steve is touching a part of me that literally no one else ever has before’ thing, but still.

All in all, it was maybe a whole 30 seconds that Steve was knelt down in front of him, but it felt like it was an instant and like it was hours at the same time.

“There ya go” Steve grins, standing again, “Can I open my present now?”

“Be my guest, sunshine.” he passes Steve the box very cool-like and not at all still flustered with his voice still pitched high, thank you very much.

Steve starts in on Garfield, stolling into the living room and leaving a trail of shredded paper in his wake.

“Ooh, a box, thanks Eds.” Steve smirks, sinking onto the end of the couch closest to the tree.

“Ha ha ha.” Eddie deadpans in return, shoving his hands into his pockets and wanting desperately to look away from Steve’s possible reaction; but he can’t. He’s nearly vibrating in anticipation.

He finally tears through the flimsy scotch tape holding the top flaps together and opens it.

Steve’s eyes jump to Eddie’s immediately, his jaw dropping.

“Is this–” he looks back down at it, pulls the jacket out and free of the box as he stands back up to hold it out in front of him.

Eddie’s face feels like it’s on fire, like his innards are stretched and twisted like the world’s most complicated pretzel.

Steve’s eyes are on him again, “You made me a battle jacket?”

All Eddie could do was nod, his throat clenched tight.

His heart was thrust somewhere into the aforementioned gut-pretzel when Steve slipped the jacket over his shoulders.

Why he thought he could see it better while it was on him is knowledge lost to Eddie, but he tries his damndest to twist around to see the BMW and KISS patches on his right side. He seemed to notice the threads covering his arms when trying to pull the left hem of the jacket around to admire the Ozzy and D20 patches there.

“Eddie, did you—” Steve looks up at him in wonder

“Mm hmm,” he nods, then has to yank his hands out of his pockets as quickly as he can, wrapping his palms over careful stitches in denim when Steve takes two long strides to pull Eddie to him.

Now, up until the exact moment Steve’s lips were on his, Eddie could be convinced that what happened on Steve’s back patio a couple days ago was just a fluke; a daydream maybe, possibly a nightmare meant to torture him and he really had died back in March.

But he didn’t.

He was here. Being kissed by his boyfriend. For a present he’d given him for Christmas.

Holy shit..

“Eddie..” Steve breathes his name like a prayer and Eddie’s stomach swoops in response. “You are amazing, d’y’know that?”

Eddie hums into another kiss, his head is swimming, “Hmmm..no. Tell me again.” he teases.

Steve huffs a laugh, “You are amazing, Eddie Munson, you stitched this with your own two hands just for me?”

“It’s only four patches.” he noses forward to connect their lips again, but is held at bay. He opens his eyes to Steve’s own boring into him.

“It’s only nothing, Eds. Do you see this?!” Steve lifts his arm between them, the right one with the nail bat, “And this?” he says, re-placing his hand on Eddie’s cheek to lift his left into view instead, the arm with the bats. “You did that yourself, by hand. You are so fucking talented, Eddie. I love y--it. I love it. Thank you.”

Eddie’s finally rewarded with another kiss for having to suffer through that praise.

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

Steve pulls back again, searching his face with those striking hazel eyes of his. His expression steels. “Damn you, Munson.” he practically hisses, letting Eddie go completely.

“Aw what?” he jokes over the stabbing pain in his gut, “First I’m amazing and now—”

“Oh shush,” Steve chides him, crouching down to search the lowest branches of his tree.

“We really need to find you a back patch for that thing.” he mumbles while Steve continues his search.

“Ah ha! Got it!” Steve stands and rushes back to him, “Here, open it.”

A simple white envelope is pressed into his hand.

“Look, Steve I really appreciate the thought,” Eddie starts, flipping open the top flap open, “But I’ve got a job you kno—”

His joking is cut off when he feels the thick cardstock finally drop into his palm from the upturned envelope.

Eddie looks down at it.

There’s two of them. General admission, for just a couple months from now.

Eddie’s not new to this, he’s been following the bits of news he could of his favorite bands’ tours and Iron Maiden is in what, Italy right now? He knew they were coming closer again soon but must not have been watching close enough.. He didn’t even realize these had gone on sale yet.

“Steve, these are–”

“Not as cool as Metallica or Ozzy, I know, but neither are coming by anywhere close anytime soon, and I knew you liked these guys too, the skull guy? Whatever, point is, I picked them up a couple weeks ago when me and Rob went up to Indy last and I thought maybe you and Wayne could go, or you and Jeff maybe—”

Eddie had stared, transfixed, while Steve went on his little tirade, pacing back and forth, but hold on..

“Hold on, Steve, stop.”

He does, looking nervous.

“Steve, sweetheart, first of all: thank you. This is amazing, perfect even! Second,” he drops the envelope onto the coffee table and runs his hands up and down Steve’s arms soothingly, “What in the world makes you think Wayne would want to come with me?”

It works, and Steve huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes at him.

“You know what I meant, dickhead.”

“I know, sweetheart, but there’s only one person I’d want to come with me.”

Steve’s lips twitch, “I dunno Eds, I’m pretty cool with Claudia, but I don’t think even I could convince her to let her precious Dusty Buns go with you.”

Eddie smirks at him, letting his arms go “Now who’s being a dickhead.”

Steve smiles back, then his face falters, “You sure you like them? I can always get them exchanged or give them to someo—”

“You better fuckin’ not,” Eddie says, snatching the envelope back up and clutching it close to his chest, “My boyfriend got me these tickets, you cur.”

He expected Steve to latch on to that one, say something like “What–What’d you just call me?”, or “Cur? Who are you, Shakespeare?”, hell, even something as simple as “..Gross.”, but nothing comes.

He’s just…staring at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“...Boyfriend?”

Oh shit.

“Um..” Eddie gulps loudly, “Y-yeah, that okay?”

Steve’s hands are cupped around his face not a second later, and his lips on Eddie’s another moment later.

He’s lost to the feeling instantly, there’s nothing but SteveSteveSteve running through his head, wading through his soupy brains to reach all corners.

Steve licks into his mouth and Eddie melts to his front, arms wrapping around his boyfriend.

Eventually, Steve pulls back enough to murmur, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, Eddie.”

Eddie kisses him again, nothing pushy, no expectations, only the weird sense of gratefulness he has for Steve accepting his new title.

Steve hums in satisfaction when Eddie finally does let him go and gives him a last quick peck on the nose, which Steve pushes him off for with a smile.

“So whattya wanna do tonight, sweetheart? You got any good movies around here?” Eddie says, turning to squat down in front of Steve and Robin’s pile of favorite tapes next to the TV.

“Well, you know…”

“..I know?” Eddie encourages, picking up a copy of Rocky Horror in one hand and Rocky in the other.

“There are some things I haven’t done with a boyfriend before..”

“Uh, yeah, I’d hope not Stevie.” Eddie scoffs as Steve starts to move, heading out the room, “You’ve never had one before.”

“Exactly.” He rounds the corner out the door.

Eddie assumes he’s heading to the kitchen for snacks, but drops both tapes when he hears the bottom step creak.

Oh.

You’re just a whole-ass idiot, aren’t you Munson?

“You comin’ Eds?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant and on the steps behind Steve before he’s even done talking. “Holy shit, uh..yes, yep, yeah the fuck I am, Jesus H. Christ.”

oooohh i think the fic rating is about to go up 👀

some notes:

i based the ticket text off this image from a Bon Jovi show a week before iron Maiden's scheduled show (i couldn't find a pic of the IM show ticket, and i'm not sure if it also started at 7:30)

$14.50 in November 1986 dollars would $40.33 in November 2023 dollars!

the show date is an actual date i got from Iron Maiden's website! and eddie was right, last he may have heard, they would've likely played their last shows in Italy before the holiday in '86.

i am not the first or last person to give steve a jacket with patches and i just know he's gonna have fun finding more pins and patches for it with both robin and eddie <3

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lfghughes · 11 months

Note

ok but hear me out, imagine McDavid's younger sister dating Matthew Tkachuk

a/n: i loved this concept and idk why but i just see connor being a very overprotective brother.

“I just don’t get why you’re moving here, why would you want to move when you can stay closer to your family?” You should have known that telling Connor your plans would have gone this way. He had always been the protective older brother but the minute you had really entered the dating world he had only gotten worse. It didn’t get any better when you started dating Matthew Tkachuk and even though they had no problems beforehand now Connor liked making problems simply because you were his baby sister.

“Maybe because my boyfriend lives here and flying back and forth is tiring. I finished school this past semester there’s nothing really keeping me there.” You told him and you knew the minute the words left your mouth it was. “Except your family.” There it was, you weren’t sure why he had to make this a picking game.

He had willingly come down to Florida to watch the Eastern Conference Final with you and spend some time here with Matthew and his family. For some reason you had thought now would be a good time to spring this information on him, something you and Matthew had talked about for months now but was actually close to becoming a reality. “Connor, you’re my big brother and I appreciate you but I’m not a baby anymore.” You warned him because you knew this wasn’t about just the moving.

“It’s just you’re my baby sister, you’re one of my best friends and now you start dating this guy and you’re just leaving.” You knew Matthew would be home soon, he had just gone to grab some takeout food for all of you and you wanted to get everything cleared up before he got back. “We’ve been together for a year this isn’t sudden.” You pointed out and he gave you a big sigh, nodding his head and you knew it was finally hitting him that he was being unreasonable.

At that same moment you heard the door open and in came your boyfriend with what seemed like enough food to feed the whole apartment complex. “I got a little bit of everything for us.” He told you as he set everything on the table. “Babe, there’s three of us.” A laugh left your lips as he gave you a quick kiss to the top of your head, the way he always greeted you regardless of how long it had been since the last time he saw you.

You all sat down at the table, grabbing different containers of food and enjoying the deliciousness of it. Connor took this time to finally speak up. “So Matthew, I heard my sister was planning on moving down here with you.” Your stomach did a flip because was he about to just freak out on your boyfriend about this. “Yeah, we talked about it but we also thought that for the summers and off season we could go up there to spend time with your family and mine.”

That was one thing you hadn’t mentioned to Connor because of the way he had originally reacted but you could tell what Matthew had said was enough to soften the whole blow of you moving away from your family. “Well, I guess all I can say is you better take care of her and don’t think that next season I’ll take it easy on you just because you’re dating my sister.”

#matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #connor mcdavid

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jacksgreysays · 5 days

Text

Extremely late, completely unnecessary opinion of the Watcher situation, (2024-04-24)

So this is a relatively belated post — several days after the initial “Goodbye Youtube” and one day after the “An Update” videos — and surely by this point there are more interesting/insightful op-eds (both in written form and video form, especially penguinz0’s fairly objective POV as, essentially, a YouTube expert) but there is something about the Watcher situation that made my brain itch. Thus, I wanted to write about it in order to make sense of it all as well as get into a philosophy that seems to be haunting me in recent years and which I think applies greatly here.

This may seem completely out of left field considering 1) definitely not fanfiction and 2) about Watcher Entertainment, a YouTube channel which—as far as this tumblr is concerned—I’ve not engaged with whatsoever, but I don’t know where else I would put this, and weirdly enough I think the general tumblr response to this whole predicament is maybe the… if not objective… then at least, most thoughtful?—or, perhaps, least immediately reactive?—amongst the various social media platforms, that I think some people might appreciate this anyway.

In terms of my relevant background: I majored in Management Science (which is just a fancy way of saying Economics + Business + Accounting because they are, weirdly enough, separate things) and minored in Film Studies in school, I am currently working in the stage tech industry (which, I know, is obviously different from film/video industry), and I like to think I am a fan/consumer of a wide variety of independent creators, some of whom I am lucky enough to be able to afford being a patron/subscriber. I won’t go into all of them—because it is a lot—but there are four in particular whose business models I want to analyze in comparison to Watcher’s admitted blunder:

A) RocketJump (known for Video Game High School and Anime Crimes Division; the core group which turned into the podcast Story Break, then became Dungeons and Daddies) B) Dropout (formerly College Humor, we’ll get into their discography later) C) Drawfee (previously an offshoot of College Humor, now fully independent) D) Corridor Digital (used to be mostly behind the scenes of how VFX studios work, have since become a mostly original content creator)

I will say, right off the bat, I am a patron of Drawfee as well as Dungeons and Daddies, and I am a subscriber to Dropout. I am not subscribed to Corridor Digital’s streamer, which I will get into why later. I understand that being able to sustain those two patronages and one subscription is a luxury that not everyone can afford and so my point of view is already skewed by being such a person who could theoretically afford another streaming service if I so chose. I also acknowledge that many fans of Watcher are not in similarly financially secure places as I am and that regardless of the business model, any monetization that comes from fans would have been a rough ask. However, I wanted to go into this essay in a way that accepts Watcher’s statement—that they needed more funding—in relatively good faith rather than assuming the worst (although that is another point I’ll get into later, largely related to the philosophy I brought up earlier.)

All four of the above listed content creators started or, at least, hit their stride on YouTube:

RocketJump and College Humor were, if not household names, then the digital equivalent of it in the “early days of YouTube.” They were part of the wave of content creators that made YouTube seem less like a bunch of eccentrics with cameras making videos on the side and more like a viable way to support yourself/your team with the art you create.

RocketJump’s Video Game High School went from short (less than 10 minutes) minimal location episodes in season one, to 30 minute plus episodes with full on fight scenes and car explosions by season three thanks to a Monster Energy brand deal. They also had two seasons of Anime Crimes Division, a literal TV quality show, thanks to a Crunchy Roll sponsorship. Unfortunately, RocketJump shut down not long after (their videos are still up on YouTube but they obviously don’t add anything new) but the core creative team behind that have been involved in several projects outside of YouTube (Dimension 404 on Hulu being one of the biggest ones so far) including the podcast Story Break (part of the Maximum Fun network) and now the independent podcast Dungeons and Daddies, the episodes of the main campaigns which are free with ads or, for patrons, ad-less along with additional mini-campaigns and other benefits.

I will say, during RocketJump’s decline, they did try their best to keep going. The partnerships with Monster Energy and Crunchy Roll were the big swings to get the funding to make those TV quality shows they wanted. I believe they lucked out with those brands in particular, or, at least, those brands didn’t seem to inhibit the creative process or ask too much of them that it felt like “selling out” but I also don’t have insight into why they didn’t pursue this model of, essentially, very weird but interesting season long commercials. Maybe they just couldn't find the right brands or maybe they did feel like it was too stifling. Regardless, before they shut down completely, they did also downsize—moving out of the actual city of Los Angeles over to Buena Park. Which is in Los Angeles county, and basically counts as LA still, but is way cheaper than literal Hollywood real estate. (I should have added to my relevant background that I’m born and raised LA county, and have relatives and friends in the film/movie industry, so trust me when I say literal Hollywood/city of Los Angeles is so overrated and unnecessarily expensive. There is a reason why LA traffic is the worst and it’s because everyone is commuting INTO the city. Respectfully and with affection, no one should live there. No one’s start up should be located there.) Obviously the downsizing didn’t necessarily work for RocketJump, but they also didn’t have multiple successful revenue streams the way that Watcher currently does.

In contrast, College Humor was acquired by InterActiveCorp and was turned into CH Media which was three pronged: College Humor, Drawfee, and Dorkly. In 2018 they made Dropout, which had exclusive content separate from their YouTube videos which involved all three prongs. Then some financial shenanigans happened early 2020—IAC withdrew their funding—and there were a bunch of layoffs right before the pandemic which extremely sucked. It has been stated by multiple people involved that it was basically a miracle that Dropout survived through all of that, but there were definitely some sacrifices along the way to make that happen. Currently, Dropout seems to be thriving with mostly exclusive content with the occasional “first episode of a season” posted to YouTube, OR if Dimension 20 is doing a “sequel season” in an already established campaign they will put the entirety of the previous season on YouTube.

IAC withdrawing their funding did put CH Media in a bind. They had to layoff a lot of people right before pandemic and, understandably, a lot of trauma was had. There were also weird issues with who controlled certain IPs/brands/digital assets (I mostly come at this from a Drawfee POV, it took several years for them to own the Drawga series and be allowed to host all of the episodes on their YouTube, and there was also something about the sound file for their opening animation?) but mainly the difference is what kind of content they generate. Originally Dropout had multiple scripted shows with high budgets and pretty cool effects/animations/stunts (Troopers, Kingpin Katie, Gods of Food, Ultramechatron Team Go!, Cartoon Hell, and WTF 101) whereas now almost all of their shows are variations of improv comedians being put into different scenarios or given different prompts. I’m not just talking about Game Changer and Make Some Noise, because Dimension 20 and Um, Actually also technically fall under that description as well. Which is not to say that these shows are worse than the scripted shows—I subscribe to Dropout, so clearly I’m a fan of their current shows—and the budgets for them have since increased to resemble, if not match, those early shows, but it is a noticeable shift in their content creation strategy as a response to the lack of IAC funding. And I will say: Dropout releases at least three videos a week if not more and at least two of those are long form at 30 minutes plus (Dimension 20 being the longest, of course.)

So, these first two business models are not really the most applicable to Watcher Entertainment considering their origin was to get away from Buzzfeed—they’re probably not keen to be partnered with or purchased by a larger company—but there are some aspects to both that I believe are valuable in at least showing the strategy in how these former YouTube creators could successfully extract themselves from YouTube or how they still utilize YouTube even if it is not their main hosting platform or revenue stream.

Then there is Drawfee and Corridor Digital, both of whom are currently—if not primarily—on YouTube, whose situations are more comparable to what I believe are Watcher’s goals.

Drawfee had to rebuild themselves like a phoenix from the ashes of the CH Media layoff during the beginning/worst of the pandemic. Side note: I’m happy that Nathan (one of the four main artists of the current Drawfee team) at least has forgiven(? or let bygones be bygones) Dropout enough to be on an episode of Game Changer (although I will say that this happened after Drawga was “returned” to Drawfee, and after Dropout officially split from College Humor as a brand.) All that being said, Drawfee was a team of four artists plus their editor who wanted to stick together but basically had all of their support system taken away from them. They took a bit of a break to assess their goals and options, announced a patreon with several tiers with great perks, and stuck to their upload schedule. In addition to two videos a week, they also stream on Twitch weekly, have a patron only stream once a month, and a draw class (for one of the higher tiers) once month. After asking their patrons on the relevant tiers if they were okay with it, they began releasing the patron only stream and the draw class to the general public for free after a month. The patreon perks also include things like merch discount codes, high quality PNGs of the final rendered art, access to the draw class with live interaction/critique, and a commission from the artist of your choice. The only “ads” they run are for their own patreon and merch store and, even then, they’re usually at the end of the videos with a credit scroll of the patron names during their exit banter.

Admittedly, they only have MAYBE eight employees—that’s including their video editor(s?) and their discord mod(s?)—with the main four artists doubling/tripling up duties as additional video editors, CFO, and marketing/merch leads. It’s a very streamlined crew and their production costs are not very high since it’s mostly screen recording of their drawings with their audio recording overlayed onto that footage. Although the video editors do sometimes have clever cuts to relevant images depending on their vamping. Sometimes they will have a guest artist but, again, since it’s screen and audio recordings, there’s no travel/housing costs. So, very minimal expenses due to low production costs and small crew but, again, their only revenue source is the patreon/merch, they don’t do outside ads and they very rarely do live shows.

Corridor Digital is, I think, the most applicable to what Watcher would ideally do, which I suppose is somewhat ironic for this essay in particular considering they’re the only one of the four that I don’t financially support. They have two YouTube channels: their main one being where they show the “final product” videos, but I believe their Corridor Crew channel which started primarily as behind the scenes type of videos is where most of their views come from. Especially their React series (VFX artists, Stuntmen, and Animators React etc.) On Corridor Crew they usually upload two videos a week — one which is a React and the other which goes into fun projects/challenges (involving VFX or not) or using VFX to explain scientific concepts — as well as the first episodes of their exclusive content on their streamer. Also behind that paywall are longer and ad-less versions of the videos on YouTube. They also have merch. All of them have merch, I don’t know why I’m stating that. They don’t have a patreon as far as I know, but I also don’t know if their subscription to their website comes with similar perks like discounted merch or something similar.

Anyway, their studio seems to be about 15 to 20 people — not all of them are VFX artists, of course. I believe they have higher equipment costs than Watcher since, understandably, Corridor has to be on the cutting edge of video editing technology. They do occasionally travel for shoots, but it doesn’t require big teams, and that’s only when the local locations available to them don’t match the requirements for the “final product” videos. Otherwise most of their videos are set in the studio or in the alleyway outside their studio in Los Angeles (the city itself, not just the greater county, though they are in a rougher and thus probably cheaper part of Los Angeles). I personally don’t subscribe to their website primarily because their exclusive shows don’t appeal to me—either they’re too technical or a little too dry; to be fair, most of them are VFX artists first before they are performers—and I don’t particularly feel the need to see the extended cuts of the videos uploaded on YouTube. Also I sometimes get a little bummed out by their lack of diversity.

All of this to say, from these four different business models, a bespoke Frankenstein business model for Watcher could be cobbled together. But also, even with that bespoke Frankenstein, there are some changes that Watcher would have to make: primarily their upload schedule. As of right now, I think they do MAYBE one video a week if not, perhaps, one video every TWO weeks. If they want a monthly subscription model, their rate of content generation would ideally be higher to double/quadruple their current upload rate. Obviously they want to create videos with higher production value, but at that rate of generation, something’s got to give: supplement their TV quality shows with either a behind the scenes type series or an increase of “we get four episodes out of Shane and Ryan get increasingly drunk in someone’s backyard” or something similar. Leaning into shows like Worth A Shot (the first season in which Ricky Wang makes cocktails based on a random ingredient, the second season threw in some competitive aspects which I didn’t really find necessary) or the Beatdown which has relatively low production costs (no travel, one location, maybe two cameras at most therefore smaller crew requirements) but a higher polished look. Otherwise, for a separate streaming subscription service, 2-4 videos a month is not going to cut it.

As of right now they probably can’t back out of the separate streaming subscription service because those set ups usually require some level of contract/paying for servers for the website and whatever is hosting their videos for a set amount of time. However, what really strikes me is that I literally didn’t know they had a patreon until I scrolled through the comments of the first Goodbye Youtube video. Maybe it’s been linked "tactfully" in the descriptions of videos, but considering they claim to be lacking in funds, the fact that they weren’t plugging their patreon at the end of every video is not just strange, but also irresponsible considering they do have 25 employees that they don’t want to layoff.

Additionally, I understand artists needing to be in a space that promotes creativity, but there are cheaper places that must be comparable that aren’t in literal Hollywood. It’s an unnecessary expense. On top of that, other people have already brought up that it was fairly crass to introduce this paywall, attributing it to the increased production costs, when the next planned “new series” is a reboot of an old Buzzfeed series in which people travel and eat expensive food. I’m not even talking about the personal expenses of Steven, Shane, and Ryan; what kind of car they drive or the cost of their wedding venue doesn’t matter on a business model basis.

But getting back to the patreon: again, I literally didn’t know they had one. I’m looking over their tiers— they have $5, $10, $25, and $100 — and for the most part they seem okay, although I think they have more to offer that wouldn’t necessarily cost them more. Ie, something that has baffled me for a while: the fact they don’t sell the mp3s of the Puppet History songs; they already exist and it doesn’t cost them anything additional because they don’t need to put it on physical media. Or maybe they do and they’re not marketing it similarly to how they weren’t overtly marketing their patreon?

And, okay, maybe they didn’t want to seem desperate — in the early days of Dropout and independent Drawfee, they both were very blatant in getting people to subscribe/join their patreon. As they should be. Desperation maybe doesn’t look cool and sexy, but it is earnest in a way that conveys equal effort that fans who can afford it would want to see. The fact that we weren’t getting rotating ten second clips of Steven, Shane, and Ryan asking people to join the patreon at the end of every video — even if its the same clip every three videos — is wild. And yes, the $25 tier includes a shoutout every 3 months on Watcher Weekly+ (which I don't quite understand what that is,) but the fact that they weren’t doing a quick post movie credits scroll of all the patreon names is, again, wild. Once you have that initial list, it’s not too difficult to add any new names that join and put that title overlay on top of, again, those nonexistent ten second clips of the three.

As others have already stated, it seems like an extreme mismanagement of their existing successful revenue streams, if they are actually struggling to pay all of their employees. Which goes into the philosophy part of this essay: don’t assume malice when it might just be incompetence. It’s something that I have to remind myself of often because I do get paranoid about people’s intentions sometimes and I have to check myself. Am I being overly suspicious of what might be just an honest mistake? Am I assigning ill will to an action just because it inconvenienced me?

Yes, of course, a lot of this situation could be misconstrued as straight up greed. But, also, Watcher is a relatively young company, helmed by three people who certainly don’t have experience running their own company:

They like to travel. They like to bring a full crew around with them. They’re renting out a shiny office in the heart of Hollywood where everyone knows is where real show biz happens. They’re adding more employees to the team because surely more people means better. And they want better productions values because the prettier the videos the more people will like them right?

It’s naive. It’s a level of inexperience combined with giving responsibility to officers whose main priority is to entertain. And if that means entertaining themselves and their staff, then they might not know the difference. It’s the kind of mistake that first time managers make—trying to prioritize fun over getting the job done. Prioritizing making friends with their employees rather than making sure the work the employees put in is equal to (or greater than) what you spend on them whether that is in paycheck or bringing them to cool locations for fun shoots. It’s a mistake anyone can make, it's just unfortunate that they made this mistake in front of millions of people. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s solely a greed induced cash grab.

But then comes the catch-22 of the philosophy—is it worse to assume incompetence than it is to assume malice? Or, in this case, greed. Especially for the heads of a company that holds the livelihoods of 25 employees in their hands. At what point does it not matter if it’s incompetence or greed if the end result is the same?

Is it better to think that Watcher knew about the various other business models of independent creators and just ignored the efforts put into achieving those successes or is it better to think that they didn’t know and just stumbled into one of the worst moves they could have done. Again, other people have mentioned that Great Mythical Morning—which Watcher has had multiple collaborations with—has managed to make the YouTube subscription/tier system work to the point that they can sustain themselves as well as spinoff channels. Is it incompetence or greed that led to Watcher thinking they could bypass that completely in less time and with less content?

I’ve been at this mess of an essay for several hours when I should have been asleep. Ultimately I want to say, regardless of incompetence or greed… yes, Steven is CEO and yes he is ultimately the one who makes the final call but it is disheartening to see the pointed vitriol at Steven specifically and the infantilizing of Shane and Ryan in comparison. Either they’re all silly uwu boys who are messing around not knowing how to run a company, or they’re all complicit in a crass cash grab in an extremely busted economy.

I think what’s most frustrating to me in all this is that there were so many other channels and creators who have literally walked this path before them and, again, whether through incompetence or greed or arrogance, for them to just ignore it… It’s not betrayal because I don’t know them and so there’s no relationship to betray, it’s just so inefficient and convoluted that I don’t understand. Or, no, even if it was greed, it’s an incompetent greed because at least pure greed would have been pushing that patreon every second they could. Their ratio of YouTube subscribers to patreon members is less than 1% and I bet that’s because a lot of their audience, like me, literally didn’t know they had a patreon. I probably would have become a patreon member of theirs had I known earlier, ESPECIALLY if it included access to those Puppet History songs. Drawfee has half as many YouTube subscribers and nearly double the patreon members as Watcher. I’m just baffled, is all, and maybe by this point sleep deprived.

Anyway. That’s my extremely late, completely unnecessary opinion of this situation.

Edit (several hours later after some sleep): I forgot to mention, because they did walk this back almost immediately, even before their "An Update" video, but I believe the original plan was to put EVERYTHING behind that paywall and pull their content from YouTube entirely. Which is, again, extremely baffling, because if ALL of their content is behind a paywall, how would they possibly gain new fans? Even if all of their current fans were able and willing to pay for their separate subscription streaming service, how would a brand new person even stumble on their content enough to want to subscribe if there wasn't a significant amount of "proof of value" free content on YouTube? Again, extremely baffling, and a level of incompetence that overshadows a "cunning" greed. But, like I said earlier, they did walk this decision back almost immediately. If I've misunderstood this and that was never their plan, please let me know, I don't want to be spreading misinformation in a situation that is already so convoluted.

#jacksgreyson #writing #nonfiction #essay #watcher #op-ed #youtube #drawfee #corridor digital #dropout #rocketjump #dungeons and daddies

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kckt88 · 5 months

Text

Taking of a City.

Summary:

After Aemond leaves for Harrenhal, Rhaenyra and Daemon arrive in Kings Landing to reclaim the Iron Thone.

Warning(s): Swearing, Blood, Death,

Word Count: 2100

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/The Gullet/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye, The Fallen Queen & New Beginnings.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“You want to go to Harrenhall?” asked Vaera.

“We’ve given Rhaenyra a month to concede. It’ll be easier if we get rid of Daemon first”.

“What about Kings Landing?” asked Vaera.

“I will leave my Queen in charge” replied Aemond as he took of the conquerors crown and placed it on Vaera’s head.

“B-But the other Lords. Aemond they won’t accept me” exclaimed Vaera.

“Yes, they will. Besides Ser Criston is coming with me. There is no one else that can sit the Iron Throne. I’ve already spoke to them, and they’ve all pledged to support you in my absence”.

“How many of them did you threaten to kill?” asked Vaera sheepishly.

“Only three. But I know you’ll be fine. I need someone on the Throne that I can trust, and I need Cannibal here just in case” said Aemond.

“What about my mother?” asked Vaera as she eyed Vhagar in the distance.

“I should be back in time. Harrenhall isn’t too far from Kings Landing.”

“Assuming of course you manage to deal with Daemon in that time” muttered Vaera.

“I have to try Vaera” said Aemond firmly.

“I know you do. I’m just worried. Daemon is no ill trained knight. He’s a seasoned warrior, and if anything happened to you. I don’t know what I’d do” said Vaera her lips wobbling.

“Listen to me, if something was to happen-“

“-Aemond. No” gasped Vaera shaking her head.

“If something was to happen to me, you need take Rhaegar and leave Westeros” urged Aemond.

“L-Leave Westeros?” asked Vaera.

“You and Rhaegar get on the back of Cannibal, and you fly as far east as you can. I will go to my death content with the knowledge that you and our children will live” said Aemond as he ran a hand over the small swell of Vaera’s stomach.

“D-Don’t die” sobbed Vaera.

“I’ll try not to. But I swear if I do, I will take your cunt of a father with me” said Aemond, as he pressed one last kiss to Vaera’s forehead and headed towards Vhagar.

Almost a week without Aemond and Vaera was missing him terribly and sitting in endless council meetings was boring.

Day in day out, the Lords would argue on the best way to deal with Rhaenyra and Daemon, it was getting tiresome, for every argument there was no progress.

Everything hinged on Aemond being able to retake Harrenhall and deal with Daemon.

Thinking about Aemond confronting Daemon made Vaera feel sick to her stomach. Both Daemon and Aemond were skilled with a blade, but Daemon had seen battle. He once been crowned King of the narrow sea.

Vaera just prayed to the gods of old Valyria that Aemond would survive.

After having a meeting with grand maester Orwyle, to check that everything was progressing well with the babe she carried, Vaera decided to distract herself and spend time with the children.

Maelor was fussy so Alicent decided to keep him inside but permitted Vaera to take Jaehaera to the gardens with Rhaegar.

“Do you think my Kepa will like these?” asked Jaehaera, holding up a tulip.

“He’ll love them” replied Vaera smiling.

“Can I pick flowers too mama?” asked Rhaegar quietly.

“Of course, you can sweet boy” said Vaera.

Rhaegar squealed excitedly as he humped off his mother’s knee and joined Jaehaera.

“What about this?”

“Rhaegar, that’s a weed” sighed Jaehaera rolling her eyes.

“Oh” muttered Rhaegar sadly.

“B-But it’s got pretty leaves, maybe we could include it” suggested Jaehaera smiling.

Rhaegar’s face immediately brightened up and he nodded eagerly.

After half an hour, it was beginning to get a little bit chilly, so Vaera decided it was time to head inside.

“Right, let’s take those flowers to your Kepa” said Vaera as she took hold of Rhaegar and Jaehaera’s hands.

“Ser Arryk” called Vaera.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Would you be so as to escort us to Aegon’s chambers?” asked Vaera.

“Of course,” replied Ser Arryk.

Vaera and the children followed the knight to Aegon’s chambers in silence, the only noise echoing around the corridors was the clanking of Ser Arryk’s armour.

“Kepa. We brought you flowers” cooed Jaehaera as she kissed her father’s forehead.

“They’re beautiful” breathed Aegon.

Jaehaera smiled as she snuggled into her father’s arms.

“I-Is that a weed?” asked Aegon.

“Rhaegar picked them. Jae said they had pretty leaves” replied Vaera.

“I have to agree” muttered Aegon.

“When will you get better Uncle Egg? asked Rhaegar.

“I’m not sure, but I hope its soon”.

“Me too. I miss you Kepa” whispered Jaehaera.

“I’ll be back on my feet soon, don’t you worry”.

“Maybe mama will get better soon as well” said Jaehaera hopefully.

“Let’s hope so” said Vaera quietly, as she noticed a single tear slide down Aegon’s cheek.

The death of Jaehaerys had devastated Aegon more than anyone realised. His devastation was also coupled with the guilt that he’d not been a good father in the first place.

Since the death of his son and nephew, he vowed that he would try to be a better man, a better father, and a better husband.

Loving Helaena as his sister was easy. It was loving her as a wife that was difficult.

“Have you heard from Aemond recently?” asked Aegon.

“No. But no news is good news, right?” muttered Vaera.

Aegon reached forward and took Vaera’s hand in his, trying to offer his good sister comfort.

Suddenly their was a loud bang and screams were heard.

“W-What’s going on?” asked Aegon shocked.

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check” replied Vaera.

Rhaegar and Jaehaera huddled closer to Aegon as Vaera left the room.

Ser Arryk who had been standing guard outside the door, was nowhere to be found and there were no other guards around.

So, Vaera made her way slowly down the corridor to one of the secret passageways.

After managing to squeeze through the gap, Vaera cautiously walked through one of the secret corridors. If something was wrong, it was better to keep out of sight, and soon she found herself squeezed into a secret alcove attached to the Throne room.

There was a sudden rush of footsteps and Vaera peered through the gap in the stone, to see what was happening and what she saw made her blood run cold.

“Rhaenyra. You must stop this madness before it is too late.” said Alicent.

“Madness?. You speak of madness? One of your sons steals my birth right and the other murders my Luke, and you accuse me of madness?” sneered Rhaenyra.

“My son stole nothing. He is Viserys first-born son and Aemond did not murder Lucerys. It was you who had assassins sent into the Red Keep to murder innocent children, one of them your own grandson” said Alicent squaring her shoulders.

“That was not my-“ said Rhaenyra.

“Do you have any idea how your daughter has suffered because of your cruelty?”

“A necessary loss. The brat was part Hightower” quipped Daemon.

“You despicable excuse for a man” spat Alicent.

“Speaking of my daughter, where is she and that other Hightower spawn of hers?” asked Daemon.

“Not here, they went with Aemond to Harrenhall” lied Alicent.

“Lies. The Cannibal still rests beyond the walls of the Red Keep. Vaera is here and believe me as soon as we’ve dealt with you then she will be found” said Daemon.

“Do you intend to harm her?” asked Alicent.

“She supported my usurper, had her Cannibal destroy the Velaryon fleet and she kidnapped my son. My daughter will answer for what she has done,” said Rhaenyra.

“Your daughter is what you made her” snapped Alicent.

“Seize them!” snarled Daemon.

“That will not be necessary. I will cooperate. I am your prisoner. I will go quietly to my chambers, or to the dungeons”

But Daemon only laughed.

“The only place you’re going is to the Seven Hells to be with your precious gods.”

Otto roared in anger, and jumped protectively in front of his daughter even as the remaining Kings guard surrounded them. Not that it helped.

Ser Rickard fell first, slain by Ser Harold Westerling and soon all of the remaining Kings guard were dead, leaving their defence solely in the hands of the castle guards. And to their credit, they fought bravely. They did not stop fighting until the last of them fell.

Soon, the throne room was strewn with bloodied corpses, but ultimately, the Greens were outnumbered. Within minutes, the Green council was wearing chains, and Rhaenyra was climbing the steps to the Iron Throne.

Seizing Otto roughly, Daemon dragged him in front of the Iron Throne. With his arms bound, he was helpless to defend himself as Daemon forced him to kneel.

Wide-eyed, Alicent turned to Rhaenyra, silently begging for her father’s life, and for a moment, she thought he might be spared.

“Otto Hightower. You are guilty of treason. You are guilty of conspiracy against the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and you are also guilty of being a massive cunt.” snarled Daemon.

And to Alicent’s sheer horror, Rhaenyra didn't utter a single word to stop her husband.

“Send him to the Wall. Let him take the black” cried Alicent.

But it was useless. The look on Daemon’s face said it all. He was not there for justice. He was out for blood.

Otto was not even granted the dignity of last words before Daemon raised Dark Sister and quickly sliced off his head.

Vaera clasped her hand to her mouth, trying not to make a sound as Otto’s severed head hit the stone floor with a dull thud.

She had to get back to Aegon and the children. Now.

Her mother and Daemon would not linger in the throne room for much longer and it would only be a matter of time before they gave the command for their soldiers to tear through the Red Keep.

Picking up her skirts, Vaera ran as fast she could back to Aegon’s chambers.

Bursting unceremoniously through the doors, startling Aegon and the children.

“We-We have to move. Now” said Vaera.

“W-What’s going on?” asked Aegon.

“My mother and Daemon are here. They’ve captured your mother and your grandsire is dead” exclaimed Vaera.

“G-Grandsire is dead” gasped Aegon his eyes wide.

“We have to leave. Now” snapped Vaera.

“I-I can’t walk” said Aegon.

“You have to try. I can’t leave you here. Daemon will kill you”.

“What about Helaena and Maelor?” asked Aegon as he shuffled uncomfortably on the bed.

“They spared your mother, so they’ll most likely spare Helaena and Maelor, they'll need hostages-” said Vaera.

“-How are we going to-“

Suddenly the door flew open, and a haggard looking Ser Arryk came barrelling into the room.

“Where the fuck have you been?” snarled Vaera.

“Apologise, I was helping Lord Strong escape with young Prince Maelor, he intends to take him to Old Town”.

“You’re here now. I need you to help Aegon and get him out of the Red Keep” urged Vaera.

“What about you?” asked Ser Arryk as he hauled Aegon from the bed.

“I don’t-“

“G-Go to Harrenhall. Aemond is there” said Aegon wincing in pain.

“We don’t have much time. We need to leave now” urged Ser Arryk.

“What about Daeron?”

“If he has any sense, he’ll stay in Oldtown” said Aegon.

“Go Your Grace” urged Ser Arryk.

Vaera gathered Rhaegar and Jaehaera in her arms and held them tight.

“Now, I need you both to be quiet. Can you do that for me?” asked Vaera.

Both the children nodded quickly.

“Let’s go” muttered Vaera.

The walk through the secret passageways was tough, as they had to keep stopping for Aegon to catch his breath.

Daemon’s soldiers were now tearing through the Red Keep.

The sounds of shouting, banging and screaming echoed through the Red Keep.

“You need to get the dragon pit” said Vaera.

“What about you?” wheezed Aegon.

“Cannibal rests outside of the Red Keep, the secret passage just past Balerion will take me too him” replied Vaera.

“Get to Harrenhall. Tell Aemond what’s happened” urged Aegon wincing as Ser Arryk picked him up once more.

“I will” said Vaera nodding.

“Take care of my daughter.” replied Aegon.

“I promise”

“Be good for your aunt Vaera my butterfly. I’ll see you soon” said Aegon.

“I will Kepa” said Jaehaera quietly.

“It looks good on you” quipped Aegon.

“What does?” asked Vaera.

“The crown”.

“I forgot I was wearing it” exclaimed Vaera.

“Go Princess. It won’t be long before the passageways are searched,” said Ser Arryk.

Vaera nodded and spared Aegon one more glance before she led the children down another darkened tunnel.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aegon ii targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra

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graveyarddirt · 1 year

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Hagging Out: May [🍵]

Thinking about taking part? Reply to this entry - or send me a DM - and I'll add you to the list of May Hags. 💀

too cruel? did i choose them what they are? or change them from themselves by poisonous charms? but any draught, pure water, natural wine, out of my cup, revealed them to themselves and to each other. change? there was no change; only disguise gone from them unawares -- augusta davies webster, 'circe'

WHO: To join this challenge you must 1.) identify as a hag (trans, non-binary, and dude Hags welcome!), and 2.) be 30 years or older. While not mandatory, all former participants have been some flavor of pagan or witch or Christian, so incorporating the challenge into your practice or devotional schedule isn't just tolerated, it's encouraged!

WHAT: This month we’re sticking shit in a (thoroughly sterilized!) jar, bottle, and/or teapot, then pouring something over the materia to create an infusion. Honey, water, alcohol, vinegar, fruit juice, oil, salt, and sugar are all terrific mediums to infuse using fresh or dried ingredients. Start an infusion, finish an infusion, or simply brag about a recently created infusion that you're feeling rather chuffed with.

WHERE: In the convenience of your home! Unless, of course, you want to be a bit extra. Whatever you decide to do, and wherever you decide to do it, be sure to tag your posts with #Hagging Out so fellow crones can follow along. (Over the past few years we've essentially strong-armed everyone else out of the tag and claimed it as our middle-aged Hag fort, LMFAO.)

WHEN: May 29th-May 31st! Participating Hags are encouraged to complete their challenge and write their entry when it suits their schedule, then pick one of the three "open" days - May 29th, May 30th, or May 31st - to post it.

WHY: To consolidate our strengthening crone powers and exchange tips on the best way of covering stubborn greys. And because it's occasionally nice to be social in the comfort of your own home without actually having people over.

HOW: Create something for the kitchen cupboard, start or finally finish a more serious project for workings, or even use the theme as an excuse for a tea party in the garden (or getting witch-faced next to a roaring fire). Don’t get too hung up on the idea that participation needs to be food-based - this challenge is all about appreciating the season, creating something for future use, and working with what’s available (and maybe learning some new skills along the way). Feel free to riff and push boundaries, that’s what this is all about!

💀 May Hags: @msgraveyarddirt @pagan-stitches @satsekhem @moeder-geit @wildwood-faun @woolandcoffee @rootandrock @friend-crow @thedosianexplorer @liminalblessings @furmity @prairiefirewitch @crazycatsiren @buddyblanc @inbacchaegloriam @passifloramoonlight @anotherdayforchaosfay @rose-colored-tarot

#hagging out #hagging out 2023

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causticjuice · 9 months

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A Refreshing Distraction — Part 1

Copia x masc!reader

(Part 2 here)

Summary: You convince Papa to go see a movie with you as a break from his paperwork. He still needs some help clearing his mind, and you do so with pleasure.

Notes: Reader is referred to by masculine terms (only in Italian in this part) and wears a cassock (even though they’re a Sibling because fuck the rules in this here satanic church). Their genitals are not mentioned. Also, I know that Copia wears those black nitrile gloves in the chapters but I cannot have that, he’s wearing leather ones.

Tags: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex, car blowjob (while driving), getting caught (sorta, not really)

Word count: 1.6k

ao3

You walk through the corridors leisurely, admiring the intricately carved wooden panels on the walls while making your way to Copia’s office. You know he has been having a hard time with tax season lately and you haven’t seen him in days. It seems strange to you anyway that a Papa would be the one filing his own taxes, but you accepted it. He’s been holed up with those papers long enough, and probably unable to make any progress at this point, so you decided to take his mind off of it for a bit. You heard of a new movie that just started playing in theaters and thought that would be a good enough distraction. It’s your day off and you know Copia will appreciate going at a time when the place isn’t packed. Once you arrive at his door, you give it three rapid knocks and once you hear his voice telling you to come in, you open the door.

“Oh, hello, Fratello! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Copia says, grinning.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in a while. And I have no duties scheduled today so I thought we could go see a movie together,” you suggest, with a subtle hint of uncertainty in your voice, already anticipating his response.

“Unfortunately, I, uh…,” he gestures to his desk, “need to deal with this now. But I will gladly go another time.”

You pause for a few seconds. You know this work is important but he still needs some time off. You can see his eyes look puffy, even with the paint around them. “I think you’ve earned a trip out to the town for a bit.”

“I do need to finish this, caro,” he insists, while giving you an apologetic look.

You decide to try to convince him to go one more time. “Think about it. I bet you've been sitting there, trying to figure out some little detail and not able to do it, right? Your brain needs a break, Copia.”

He sighs, staring for a moment at the stack of papers in front of him. “Okay, I will go.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you a good time,” you smirk.

“Alrighty, give me a moment, hm?” He scurries out of the room after you give him a small nod.

You sit down at the desk and scan over the chaos in front of you. There are at least five different piles of papers, different bowls, plates and cutlery all stacked together and many empty juice boxes, on the desk itself and in the small trash can next to it. You hear an exasperated “damn it” and break out of your trance.

The door that Copia left through opens once again and you see him appear.

“I’m so sorry but it seems that I, eh, have no other clean clothes… I have just been so busy–“

“Oh, don’t worry, you look fine. We’re not going to the Met Gala! C’mon, we’ll be late.”

“A-are you sure? Won’t I stand out?” He asks.

“I will stand out more in my cassock than you will in a tracksuit and T-shirt.”

“Hm… Okie dokie, let’s go.” He gestures to the door, letting you leave first.

On the drive to the theater, you notice that he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly enough that the leather of his gloves is almost constantly squeaking against it, and his jaw is clenched.

“Are you okay, Papa?” you question.

“Ah, sì, sì, just worried about work,” he answers.

“Hmm. Maybe I can help you take your mind off of it?” You place your hand gently on his thigh, slowly moving it higher.

“I’m not sure what you– Oh,” he cuts off as your fingers almost reach his crotch.

“Is that alright? May I continue?”

“Y-yes, please.”

You move your hand up until it is resting over his bulge and lightly stroke. Once you notice he is getting hard, you squeeze a little as you continue your movement. A tiny gasp escapes Copia’s lips and his eyes close briefly.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Papa,” you tease. He clears his throat and straightens up a bit, composing himself.

Satisfied that he will pay attention now, you hook your thumb on the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear and pull them down, letting his cock spring out against his belly. You grasp him and run your thumb over his head, gathering his precum. You can’t stop the urge to taste his arousal and bring the drop to your mouth. Copia glances over at you for a moment as you hum at the taste. Wanting to taste more of him, you dip your head down and run the tip of your tongue directly over his slit, which earns you a shudder.

You start to lick in circles around his head while occasionally pumping your hand over his length. You can feel his toned thighs tense slightly under your other hand and hear his breathing becoming just a little more shallow and rapid. You still the hand working him and lower your head, taking him deeper into your mouth, while reaching your tongue down towards his balls. After a moment of pause, you move up, pressing your tongue against him until you reach the top once again. A low moan comes from Copia, clearly becoming more aroused while also being mildly frustrated at your slow pace. He seems to be letting go of his shy demeanor and letting lust take over.

Just as you start to pick up your pace, you can feel the car slow to a stop and a hand pressed on the back of your head.

“We’re at a stoplight now, topolino, don’t move,” Copia whispers.

The top of his LeSabre is down, so you know it would be plainly obvious to anyone around if you continued. You decide to tease him just a little bit by massaging his balls delicately, not being able to do much more with his cock down your throat and his hand restricting you. The sound that escapes him, a mix of a moan and yelp, is absolutely obscene and not at all what you expected from your gentle action. That’s when you feel his hand grip your hair and yank you off of him. He keeps you just below eye level, glaring at you, completely red in the face. You glance over to his left and see two people in another convertible staring at you with wide eyes. You grin and wave at them with the hand that just elicited that over-the-top response, your face portraying a bizarre mix of mischief and embarrassment.

The car you’re looking at starts driving and you hear a honk from behind. Copia quickly lets go of your hair, grabs the stick shift and starts driving.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He yells.

“What? We’ll probably never see those people again.”

“And what if they know who I am?”

“Then I’m sure this is not much worse than what they’ve seen from you before.” He huffs in response. “What was that reaction anyway? I barely touched you.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!”

You glance down at his crotch and see that he’s still hard.

“You wanna keep going?” You ask.

“You better finish what you started,” he replies, still clearly annoyed at you.

This time, he is much more rough once you start again. You begin with an already relatively quick pace, bobbing your head up and down while keeping a bit of suction. Whenever he doesn’t need to use it for driving the car, he places his hand on your head and shoves you down, all the while grunting and growling. You can tell from a glance at your surroundings that you’re at the part of the road where it is straight and uninterrupted for a while, and you speed up even more. Copia’s hips start to move in rhythm with you and his fingers are now threaded through your hair.

“Cazzo, Fratello–” he growls low in his belly and his hips begin to stagger at the top of his movement. You keep moving your head up and down, committing to memory the blissful feeling of having him fill your mouth up and making him unravel under you.

He tenses up and thrusts one last time as you keep your nose pressed against him and feel his cum spill directly down your throat and into your stomach. You pull off of him just in time to pump one more rope out and catch it on your tongue this time to taste him.

“Hmm, you taste so delicious, Papa,” you moan as you lift yourself up.

Copia only pants and huffs, unable to respond, all of his attention split between coming down from his pleasure and driving the car.

After a moment, you tuck him back into his clothes to the best of your ability, only seconds before he pulls into the parking lot at your destination.

You notice he is still in a dazed state, pausing for a beat too long after stopping the car.

“Everything good?” you ask, and just as you get the words out, he turns sharply towards you and pulls you into an intense kiss, grabbing the back of your neck. After you quickly adjust to the surprise, you deepen the kiss and swirl your tongue against his. As you do, he moans and pulls away.

“Sì, I suppose that does taste nice,” he smiles with a glint in his eye, “that was incredible, tesoro, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Besides, you can return the favor during the movie.”

#my fic #smut #mdni #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #copia x reader #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band smut #copia fanfiction #copia fanfic #my first fic #I have no clue what I'm doing

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waitmyturtles · 11 months

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Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I’ll cover SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS, to close out this series and the KristSingto ship.]

Listen -- I did it to myself. All in the midst of my absolute INSANITY for Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy this week, and Our Skyy 2 x ATOTS next week. I did all this to myself! My mind’s mush.

For some reason, as I was scrolling through MDL last month, I thought my OGMMTVC watchlist wasn’t complete if I didn’t finish the rest of the series of GMMTV’s first HUGE BL in SOTUS (2016). A lot of my priorities regarding learning about the history of Thai BLs have changed over the course of this project, and the watchlist has definitely expanded from @absolutebl‘s original three suggested BLs to watch to understand the old GMMTV brand of BLs. And, as I’m inching ever closer to He’s Coming To Me (2019) -- I realized that there would be quite the gap in my seeing the development of Singto Prachaya as an actor from when he first premiered in SOTUS to HCTM. I felt that, in order to be REALLY prepared to become a SUPER FAN of HCTM -- I needed to freshen up on my Singto.

What I wanted to see was -- could he save the franchise at all, simply by way of his acting? As ABL Sensei noted about the original SOTUS -- it was problematic enough to be emblematic of a style of BL that GMMTV is now moving away from.

From that point of view? I’m honestly VERY glad I finished out SOTUS as a franchise. I think it was hugely important for the OGMMTVC project, and for me to understand what GMMTV was experimenting with, and how the channel slowly developed with more expertise in making BLs and/or queer media over the course of the last eight years, particularly under the production eye of Aof Noppharnach as he took more control of GMMTV’s BL steering wheel. It was worth it for me to take the pain of dealing with Krist’s acting again, and as many of the WONDERFUL Tumblr family noted for me: SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS were by far easier to watch than SOTUS.

So -- I’m making a few assumptions, since I don’t concretely know the detailed history -- by the time SOTUS S comes out, KristSingto are an established pair. Fans are likely chomping for more (and spending more), and SOTUS S comes through as a means of continuing Arthit and Kongpob’s relationship.

Fam, all of you were right. Our Skyy x SOTUS was WAY, WAY better than either of the seasons of SOTUS.

SOTUS S was fine. It reminded me of the Korean period dramas I used to watch as a young woman when they first started airing in America, ones that I’d watch with my mom. Lots of, like, sitting at long tables with your trusted war advisors on how to take over the Goryeo dynasties. SOTUS S was like a Japanese work drama, where like, the STORY of the WORK is PART of the POINT of the drama (maybe a little like Step By Step right now? I think it’s always hard to create DRAMA around, like, a WORK PROJECT, but anyway. Minor quibble.).

Whatever. As with the original SOTUS: it took fucking FOREVER in SOTUS S to get to the meat of the story of where the relationship was landing with Arthit and Kong.

But let me give Krist a little credit. After Arthit got used to Kong being an intern at the company -- I will say that I felt Krist, in his acting, loosened up a bit. A little wink here, an actual smile there. Instead of playing defense at the baseline, Arthit/Krist started hitting some shots at the net. (I see he’s “loosening up” even more right now in Be My Favorite... yeah? I dunno, I ain’t watchin’ that.)

Did I feel like Krist’s betterment in acting was in response to Singto’s acting? Not... quite. Not yet.

Once I watched Our Skyy x SOTUS, I realized a couple of things. The style of workshopping that GMMTV BL actors go through NOW, CLEARLY didn’t exist at the time of SOTUS. I felt like SOTUS and SOTUS S WERE the workshop for these two.

And then Our Skyy premieres, and I’m like -- OHHHHHHHHHH. OH! Krist kinda has it in him to pull out some real acting!

The Our Skyy episode also had 1) great structure, 2) a CONCISE and CRISP storyline, and 3) SHARP dialogue. It didn’t seem like these guys needed to IMPROV their emotions, the way that Krist DID, and seemed to STRUGGLE to do in the first two seasons.

But most importantly, for me -- in relation to what I said about Singto earlier -- I realized something about Singto. Like I said in my review of the original SOTUS -- Krist could not catch what Singto was throwing.

I think in SOTUS S, Singto... didn’t give up, per se. He just STILL didn’t HAVE the means by which to ACT RESPONSIVELY to someone who WASN’T RESPONDING to him. I didn’t see Singto grow, at all, in his role in SOTUS S. He was still the same seme automaton. And there’s a problem with that, I think. I could not see, AGAIN, for the LIFE of me, why Kong would be ATTRACTED to Arthit -- EVEN IF Krist were playing Arthit as a very held-back, stuffy type. Kong/Singto radiated with energy and a POTENTIAL of love -- and watching them interact in SOTUS S was like watching the emanation of an incorrect math equation.

I was surprised. I thought I’d see more development, more flexibility, more comfort in the role of Kong. Both Arthit and Kong seemed to be playing their robotic TYPES.

Not so in Our Skyy. Finally. The guys seemed looser. I felt this most greatly after Kong cooked Arthit breakfast, and Arthit scoffs (as usual) away from Kong’s affections. And Singto/Kong opens his arms for a hug.

FINALLY. Wordless communication! IT WAS GREAT. And the message of the hug -- we don’t know if this will be our last hug, so let’s hug and make it count -- it was a great and meaningful message.

If I had to get through SOTUS S to get to that moment, and to see these two be able to share well-acted emotion by the time of Our Skyy -- I would argue, for my sake and sanity, that it was worth it for this project. Because that ship/pair was so important for early BL. I had to think that there HAD to be some art, AT SOME POINT, between those two, and we got just a taste in Our Skyy.

I want to think, and to say, that for GMMTV -- that may have been a bit of a breakthrough moment, that Our Skyy x SOTUS episode. Many of those other first Our Skyy moments, like Puppy Honey and Kiss The Series/Kiss Me Again -- those were appendages to existing series where the BL aspect was secondary. I think that wordless communication, the emotion and the hug from Kong and Arthit, mayyyyybe potentially showed that, hey -- we can create a bit of a foundation of emotional art here, with this format.

Some quick other thoughts on SOTUS S and Our Skyy before I move on:

1) I liked Cherry. Yes -- a femme-ish character set up for the laughs. But Cherry wasn’t designed nearly as problematically as the femme characters of Love Sick. I think, by adding Cherry, that the writers of SOTUS were beginning to acknowledge that their brand of BL NEEDED to step its toe into queer recognition -- especially considering that other shows that had aired around the time of SOTUS (namely Make It Right) dealt with queerness so head on.

2) WHERE WAS NAMMON IN OUR SKYY??? Come awn! He and Guy Sivakorn had AMAZING chemistry! (Guy Sivakorn, y’all, great GMMTV stable guy!)

3) I REALLY LOVED SEEING KONG’S CLASSMATES in Our Skyy, even for a second. All the homies with their flashy hair. I felt total nostalgia for all of them during SOTUS S and Our Skyy.

4) Durian’s outing of Kong and Arthit was bullshit. THAT was problematic AF. Judgy and shady.

5) Oh, speaking of non-continued couples: no Earth and Tod in Our Skyy. Dang. I thought Earth would come around. (The whole SOTUS franchise REALLY left couples hanging. Remember Prem and Wad?? Wtf! Graveyard of potential!)

Anyway. Listen. I don’t really consider this review over until I watch He’s Coming To Me. I now need to see Singto in a pairing with an actor who ACTS RESPONSIVELY, who is able to CATCH what Singto is PRESENTING.

I will admit Krist DRASTICALLY improved, even from SOTUS S to Our Skyy.

BUT. I now know, from Make It Right and Bad Buddy, that few actors can hold like Ohm Pawat in BLs (but I’ve yet to get familiar with Gun, and I can’t wait to do some talent comparisons between the gold stars of GMMTV soon enough).

And that’s what I’m looking forward to watching -- the SUBVERSION of a huge ship for the SAKE of getting two damn talented actors together for what I know will be a fucking gem of a show in HCTM. I cannot wait to get to it, and it’ll be really soon.

[Alright! On to Love By Chance, with darling Perth Tanapon and my first ride with Saint Suppakong. I’ve mentioned this here and there, but many thanks to the WONDERFUL @bengiyo for filling me in on all the deets of the break-up of the PerthSaint ship. As I get closer to He’s Coming To Me, understanding Perth’s and Ohm’s reputations -- especially as I close out watching Double Savage this week, and understanding how their ship subversions affected their careers in and out of BLs -- is super helpful context.

Here’s the list as it stands. As I said last week, I’ll definitely be a touch delayed with LBC, as I’ll be likely watching and rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS (x ATOTS??) and Our Skyy 2 x ATOTS (x BBS??!?) this week and next. BUT STILL, WE PLUG ALONG! And one tiny little change: because this project is so inspired by my passion for the art and the history of Bad Buddy, I’m including a full BBS and Our Skyy 2 x BBS rewatch as a means of honoring this whole undertaking.

As always, I’ll take any input or recommendations from all of you LOVELY family!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) 7) Love By Chance (2018) (watching) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) 11) TharnType (2019) 12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review) 13) Theory of Love (2019) 14) Dew the Movie (2019) (not an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but I want to watch this in chronological order with everything else) 15) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) 16) 2gether (2020) 17) Still 2gether (2020) 18) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 19) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) 20) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 21) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 22) Not Me (2021-2022) 23) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 24) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch 25) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)] 26) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 27) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 28) My School President (2022-2023) 29) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 30) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]

#sotus s #sotus s the series #our skyy x sotus #arthit x kong #kong x arthit #singto prachaya #krist perawat #turtles catches up with the essential BLs #turtles catches up with thai BLs #turtles catches up with old gmmtv #the old gmmtv challenge #ogmmtvc #sotus

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passionateseadruid · 1 month

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update

We have a name for my “Alastor adopts a podcast Demon and ASMR demon” AU… Acoustic Affections

also I want to draw them digitally but I don’t have an app to use. So for now I’ll just have to use my sketchbook. If anyone has any recommendations for apps I can use please comment.

Just one more thing, I would like to talk about some of the dynamics Asha and Aiza have with the rest of the cast.

The hotel:

I’ve already talked about their relationships with Alastor. So I’ll skip him.

Charlie: I see Asha being appreciative of Charlie and she definitely looks up to her. Aiza respects her because of Asha. I wouldn’t exactly say Charlie is a motherly figure to them. But she’s not exactly an older sister or aunt figure either.

Vaggie: She hates them. Aiza looks up to Alastor whom we all know Vaggie despises. And as far as she’s concerned Asha is trying to take Charlie away.

Angel: They both adore Angel. Aiza and Angel definitely have a more casual relationship, drinking and gossiping. But Asha has a bit of a deeper connection. I don’t know exactly how she managed to get him to open up. Maybe she took care of Fat Nuggets when the piggy wiggled out of Angels room. Maybe she saw a bruise or a cut on him that Valentino left and she patched him up.

Husker: Aiza loves him because he has booze and gossip about everyone around the hotel, though Husk won’t admit it, it does feel nice to vent his frustrations to her. Asha enjoys playing card games with him but their friendship doesn’t really go any deeper, she’s always a good sport about loosing though.

Nifty: Freaks Asha out. Aiza adores her though. The podcaster was into all things ghoulish and creepy so her and Nifty are like two peas in a pod.

I have no clue if they come to the hotel before or after Pentious’ death/redemption

(I’m adding Luci just because I can and I feel like he’ll have a bigger role in season 2): The three do not see eye to eye. I can’t exactly tell you guys why they don’t like him because it gets into spoiler territory but I can say this; he doesn’t like them because he’s jealous that they’re immediately on good terms with Alastor after he took them in. He’s less mad at them and more angry at Alastor for having parenting come so easily to him when he’s been trying so hard with Charlie.

The Vees:

Vox: Al and Vox’s rivalry is very well known. Aiza takes on Al’s disdain for Vox because of two reasons. A. Alastor’s disdain. And B. Because Asha has a bit of a school girl crush on Vox.

Velvette: Aiza finds Velvette’s designs to be a tacky. Velvette once called Aiza pathetic for trying to emulate Alastor and the two have been trying to one up each other. Though it is very one sided on Aiza’s part. I truly don’t think Velvette cares about her unless they are within 5 feet of each other.

Valentino: Asha and Valentino were kind of thrown together to tie a nice little bow on the Rivalries but nonetheless they do not get along. Because of Asha’s feelings about Vox and her relationship with the other residents of the hotel (Angel) she despises Valentino. These two are really only fighting when they are with their respective teams though. The hate is real but they will go out of their way to avoid each other. Mostly because Val thinks Asha is a prude and a waste of time and Asha doesn’t want to bring attention to herself.

And that’s all for now.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel oc #vivziepop #hazbin fandom #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel vees

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landofzero-archive · 6 months

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Your Yorishiro - Trouble talking 3

Writer: Kanata Haruka

Season: Winter

(Location: Starmony Dorms Common Room)

(After several hours. In the Starmony Dorms Common Room)

Nagisa: …… Are you ready, Adonis-kun?

Adonis: Yes, this isn’t a studio, but we were asked to discuss your concerns as if we were recording in a studio.

………

Is it okay if I check the script for a moment?

Tsumugi: Eh? Do you have a proper script? If so, I’ll have to check it too……

Sora: It’s important to check the script~! Sora will also check it!

Nagisa: …… Calm down. We don’t have a script prepared.

Adonis: …… Now that I think about it, you’re right. When I thought this was the same as the real thing, I couldn’t help but feel like I needed to check it.

Natsume: JeEZ. Are you going to be okay if you’re like that before we even staRT?

Nagisa: …… I’m sure it’ll be fine. I hope Natsume-kun also feels free to consult with us.

Natsume: I’m not sure I’m fine with the way things are going right now, thoUGH?

In any case, it’s not necessaRY. I’m only here because Sora said he wanted to support you gUYS.

Sora: He and Hunter Onii-san said they wanted to practice counseling our worries~

Sora is also having troubles right now, so it’s perfect timing. When someone’s in trouble, we’re here to help each other~♪

Natsume: If you’re worried about somethiNG, you can talk to ME. Sora is very kiND……

I’ll hold my tongue for now out of respect for Sora's kindnESS, but don’t say anything strange to hIM.

As long as you stick to that, you can do whatever you liKE. Don’t expect any advice from me, thoUGH.

Tsumugi: Natsume-kun is acting mean again. He’s the best person to talk to about your worries……

Nagisa: …… I’d appreciate it if I could even just assess things. Thank you, everyone from Switch.

…… I wonder if Adonis-kun will also be fine soon?

Adonis: Yes. I’m fine now. Let’s begin, Ran-senpai.

Nagisa: …… Alright. Then, let’s begin, shall we?

…… Thank you for coming to our trouble counseling center today.

…… Today, the MC for the program is I, Ran Nagisa from Eden, and…

Adonis: UNDEAD’s Otogari Adonis. It’s a pleasure to…… It’s nice to meet you, isn’t it~?

Sora: Nice to meet you~! Clap clap clap☆

Natsume: ………?

Adonis: Well, let’s begin discussing your concerns right…… Let’s get started?

Nagisa: …… It seems three lost lambs have gathered here today. Shall we hear from Tsumugi-kun first?

Tsumugi: Wa!? So it’s my turn. Right~, my recent worries are~……

Ah, actually, I feel like my shoulders have been getting a little heavier lately~. What should I do about this?

Natsume: (…… He’s working too muCH. Knowing senpAI, he’s likely been falling asleep while sitting on a chaIR.)

Adonis: I see. It seems like you’re worried your shoulders are getting heavier. …… It sounds like you have a problem, huh?

I think you just don’t get enough exercise…… What do you think, Ran-senpai……?

Nagisa: …… Adonis-kun, maybe Tsumugi-kun’s condition is more serious than you thought.

Tsumugi: Ehhh!? No way, I was just looking for some light hearted advice!?

Adonis: Wh-what do you mean, Ran-senpai? Could Aoba-senpai be seriously ill!?

Nagisa: …… Indeed. First of all, I want you to calm down and listen.

…… There are two main reasons why a person’s shoulders become heavy. Do you know what those are?

Adonis: No. I don’t know at all. All I can think of is that he’s worn out from a lack of exercise……

Nagisa: …… It seems so. You have two choices: you’re tired or you’re possessed.

Adonis: …… What?

Nagisa: …… It’s fine if he’s just tired, but if he’s possessed, we need to do something right away.

…… I think we should immediately put salt in the four corners of the room. What do you think, Adonis-kun?

Adonis: ………

Nagisa: …… Adonis-kun?

Adonis: Ah, ahh…… Hm. It’s true that salt intake is important even during exercise. …… It’s important, right?

Nagisa: …… That’s right. It’s true that the purifying effect may be high if administered internally.

…… Yes. I’ve come to a conclusion. Tsumugi-kun should lick salt right now.

Natsume: (He can’t help but rush into IT. This isn’t a matter of consultation, it’s a one-liner quiz comedy (1) segmENT……)

Tsumugi: I see~. Admittedly, I never thought of licking salt. Thank you very much.

Natsume: I’m disappointed in you, senpAI.

Tsumugi: Ehh!? No way, did I do something wrong?

Adonis: Ahem. Can we move on to the next one? I’d like to hear about Harukawa’s concerns…… Right?

Sora: HaHa~♪ Finally we get to talk about Sora’s worries, right? Thank you very much!

There’re so many things Sora wants these days that Sora’s having trouble deciding how to spend his money.

Sora wants to buy a new game, but his dad recommended he save money.

Natsume: So Sora was worried about thAT. If there’s something you want, just tell ME.

Sora: HiHi~, Sora can’t keep being spoiled by Shisho~. Money management is important.

Nagisa: …… Hm. Do you save for the future or spend on recreation to satisfy yourself now?

…… This is a very difficult question. It’s generally agreed upon that it’s better to save money, but this is not necessarily the case for Sora-kun.

Adonis: …… It’s certainly difficult. Why do you want to save money, Harukawa?

Sora: There are a few reasons~. But most important is, as Sora’s dad said, to save for Sora’s future. There’s no need to worry if you’re prepared~!

Nagisa: …… Sora-kun only talked about the two options of buying or saving, but there’s also the option of “investing.”

Adonis: …… “Investing”? What’s that?

Sora: HuHu~! Sora knows. Get rich quick, or be broke. It’s a money game where you play for money~♪

Adonis: Fighting each other? I can’t let Harukawa do something so dangerous.

Nagisa: …… You don’t actually fight each other. Sora-kun’s example is more of an example used in gambling.

…… It’s true that investing has similar aspects, but compared to gambling, it’s a healthy economic activity.

…… Saving money doesn’t make the economy go around. And, if you spend it on games, it’ll disappear as a momentary pleasure.

…… In that case, it would be better for the future to increase your capital by “investing.” I’m sure Ibara would say this.

Adonis: …… Is that so? Then, would it be better to recommend investment?

Nagisa: …… No, that’s not necessarily the case. After all, investing carries the risk of failure. I cannot recommend it in confidence.

Adonis: Then how should I respond to Harukawa’s concerns?

Nagisa: …… There’s a Ouija board here that I suspect was left here by the Mystery Researchers.

…… Let’s use this to summon spirits and ask them for the best answer to Sora-kun’s troubles.

Natsume: Stop stOP. That’s enough, stOP.

The end result is that if an amateur fails to rely on spirits properly, he will be curSED. Sora shouldn’t be involved in such a dangerous thiNG.

HaaH…… JeEZ. I feel like I’m watching a manzai show under the guise of helping people with their problEMS.

---

TL NOTES:

1. A one-liner quiz segment; where the participants improvise a one-liner comedy line based on a given theme.

Previous | Directory | Next

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #nagisa ran #adonis otogari #sora harukawa #natsume sakasaki #tsumugi aoba #era: !!#type: scout

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lila-went-missing · 3 months

Text

PJO 1x6 SPOILERS BELOW!!!!!!

I love their confidence in thinking that Clarisse is the lightning thief.

The fact that the cabins are picking sides is so sad when you think about it because the oldest camper there is most likely Luke and he’s literally 19. They’re all kids, teenagers at the oldest but they still know that their parents are going to force them to fight a war that they had nothing to do with and they’ve just kind of accepted it.

“No monsters in Sunday. Medusa on Saturday. You died in a river on Monday.” ANNABETH 😭 I love her so much.

“When did you two turn into a married couple.” The way I CACKLED.

Percy asking if it was going to be safe letting the animals loose (talking about the amount of people and cars) and Grover fully believing he’s talking about animals says so much about his character and I love it so much. I love he’s getting more screen time in the show because I felt like he was really under appreciated in the movies and even in the books sometimes. I love that he’s getting more love ❤️

“How do we know which one is the Lotus Casino?” “Maybe the one with a lotus blossom.” The playful banter that follows and the way they look at each other has me giggling and kicking my feet.

“What do you think WISE GIRL?” I WOULD HAVE SCREAMED BUT I HAD FOOD IN MY MOUTH.

No Nico cameo 😢 I’ll live but it would’ve been so cool.

“Who’s Grover?” “Grover got old fast..” Percy… sweetie…

Annabeth pickpocketing the god of thieves himself and semi getting away with it was a perfect display of how sneaky and intelligent she actually is.

“I’m multitalented.” GIRL 💀

Percy tackling Augustus like a professional football player and then yelling in his face “Where’s Grover?!” I feel like it was perfect glimpse into seeing how scary Percy will seem to everyone around him in future seasons. The transition from when they first started the quest and having no clue what to do to this?!?! He went from following their lead because he didn’t what what else to do or how to fight to literally chasing a satyr through a casino, despite slowly losing his memory, and then tackling him to the ground all to defend the person he was following around three episodes earlier? I absolutely loved every second of it.

Realistically I know it wasn’t Poseidon’s fault for not being there but I still want to fight him for Percy’s sake.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #leah sava jeffries #walker scobell #aryan simhadri #lin manuel miranda #percy jackson disney+#percy series #percabeth #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #charlie bushnell #grover underwood

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frozenjokes · 4 months

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To Keep // 3

Prev/Next - Ao3 Link

“A net, huh? What for?” Doc rummaged through his things, looking unfocused. Ideal, honestly. Cub shifted his weight absently as he waited. Doc was a tad unorganized, which made sense for the start of a season.

“Just needs to be strong, that’s all. Kinda like that big one you tried to catch Merlin with, but not quite so large.”

Doc hummed, seemingly not noticing Cub’s dodge of his question, “If I remember correctly, that didn’t go so well.”

“Well I’m not looking to catch any fifteen foot long bug ghosts, so I don’t think I’ll have a problem. You managed to get a dragon with it last season anyway, I don't think your craftsmanship was the issue.”

“You sure a lead won’t work?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hm,” Doc moved a couple bags before brightening up, finding what he was looking for, “Here we are. You won’t destroy it will you? I want it back.”

“I doubt it. I’ll replace it if something happens though, or at least get you the materials. I appreciate this, thank you.”

“Well if you catch something cool, you’d better show me,” Doc flashed a toothy grin, straightening to his full height. He tossed a surprisingly heavy bag Cub’s way, causing him to stumble.

“Of course, of course. I’ll see you later.” Cub waved a lazy goodbye, and Doc nodded, turning back to the contraption he’d been busy with before Cub had arrived.

///

The net! He’d lost the net! A surge of frustration followed him just as his body finished its regeneration. He stumbled in his new form, too lost in thought to notice the revival was completed. Damn it. Cub drew a hand over his face, groaning as he went to the Spawn’s firework rocket supply. He hadn’t even had a chance to use it in his fourth encounter with Scar; he meant to set a trap since he had no mechanism to shoot the net forward, but he must have ventured too close to Scar’s new settlement. Cub bit his lip, pacing across the moonlit grass.

Maybe Scar hadn’t noticed? Maybe he’d be in such a hurry to leave before Cub came back, he didn’t bother looking through the possessions left behind after his death. Maybe if he was fast enough…

The journal entry on his fourth encounter would have to wait. It’s not like he learned much of anything new anyway, and this was more important. His mind wandered briefly to the rule he set for himself after his second encounter with Scar; don’t go looking less than 24 hours after your last regeneration. Cub brushed it off. Scar would be gone, and he wasn’t looking for him anyway. Just getting back his things.

Cub rocketed off back to his base, topped up on some basic supplies, then hurried back to the last place he saw Scar. Unfortunately, he hadn't marked the location on his map, and it was far. He knew the general direction, but finding the exact place he had died.. Ugh. This was going to be an endeavor. Not how he wanted to spend his night, that was for sure.

It was three long, frustrating hours before Cub found the general area he was looking for. Between random hostile creatures in the forest and his own mind fog making the vex magic traces more difficult to find, the whole ordeal was starting to feel like a waste of time and energy. Still, getting to the location was morale boosting enough to keep looking. He vaguely remembered an impressive tree with strong looking branches where he was considering setting his trap before Scar attacked… His confidence began to falter as he landed, surrounded by all sorts of large trees. Well, he wasn’t going back now. Cub closed his eyes, letting the traces of old magic draw him forward. Vex left magic trails in the first place so they could find each other. A lone vex wasn’t very strong; it was important for them to stay together. Absently, he wondered if the vex sharing Scar’s body tried to find any others, maybe seeking protection. It would have found out pretty quickly that it was a bad idea. The second the other vex realize you’re not actually one of them, they turn quite hostile. Cub would know , though, the vex had a good reason to fear him.

Cub thought very little about where he was going as he moved, eyes closed. It was easy to get lost in your head on the trail of magic, especially one as strong as this. Had Scar left a strong trace after killing him the last time? He hadn’t the other three times; he didn’t really need any magical assistance to get rid of Cub anyway, and typically vex spells were more useful for hiding things, covering tracks, etc, rather than for fighting. Cub furrowed his brow over his closed eyes, confusion mingling with his curiosity now. Why was the trace so strong? What was-

Cub yelped as something snapped under his feet, opening his eyes far too late as he was flipped on his back, his own net bursting up off the ground and leaving him suspended from the tree above. The net swung heftily, his mind swirling in turn until the world stopped spinning. Ah. Bastard. Cub sighed, letting his shoulders relax before attempting to resituate. This was not ideal. Doc’s nets were tightly woven and sturdy; resistant to cuts and fire. Cub might be able to tear his way out eventually with his teeth and claws, but that ruined the whole point of coming out here in the first place. In any case, this was a perfectly good net! Surely he could reach a hermit on the walkie to come and pick him up? The range might be an issue, but someone would come within reach eventually… Cub frowned. No, he didn’t like the idea of reaching out, especially when Scar was so close.

Wait. Scar? Cub closed his eyes, focusing on the traces of magic. They were fresh. Recent. He opened them, looking around. As a ghost, he didn’t have much issue seeing in the dark, but the forest was thick. He didn’t think anyone was around. Cub rubbed his face, like the brain fog might be massaged out. Though closing his eyes only seemed to invite it in further, Scar’s magic infecting his senses. He groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes so he could think properly. This felt unlike Scar. Any trap he had set before had been intended to be lethal, or at the very least, cause some sort of injury. Cub felt a prickle of foreboding in his stomach, or maybe it was excitement? Was Scar here? Did he know Cub was going to come back? (Did he want Cub to come back?) Did he know how heavily Cub relied on magic traces to find him, and that’s why he left a strong one by the base of his trap? Maybe Scar was more clever than Cub had given him credit for.

“Scar, are you here?” he tried, his voice coming through hoarse, “You got me. Did you mean to keep me alive? What do you want?” He felt himself lean into his questions, his heart racing. Was the smile on his face a nervous one, or was he excited? Every unknown wound Cub up, making his prison feel all the more confining. He pushed at the net with his legs, restlessness guiding his movement. “Scar?”

No one answered. Cub balled his fists over the net, peering intently into the woods. The small space felt suddenly oppressive in the wake of his energy. He squirmed.

“Scar?” he called, louder now.

He was here, Cub was sure. Maybe he was asleep? Yes, he must be asleep. Scar was still here, he had to be. Asleep. He was asleep. Cub could wait. He was patient. He was! Cub found himself chewing at the rope, mindless in his need to release some of this energy. He paused. He called Scar’s name. He did it again. Then again. Then again.

The sun was just beginning to rise when Cub first heard anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; there was scuffling and rustles in the bushes all night, but this was a new thing, it was big. He listened intently to its gait, but failed to identify the source of the noise. But it was steady. Slow. Heading his direction. Cub stilled.

Scar’s clothes were still dotted with dried blood, his eyes still sunken. His movement was mechanical, but he smiled when he saw Cub. Cub did not move.

“Hello there,” Scar’s eyes, or rather, eye, was unfocused. He looked similarly to the way he did crouched over the hog he had killed. Did he view Cub as prey? Scar tilted his head, appraising. “Not in the talking mood? Tire yourself out, yowling like a cat all night? That’s right, I heard you. It was rude.”

Cub stared. Scar’s wings twitched.

“Tell me why you’re following me,” Scar’s voice was low. He stalked toward the net, circling it. “You don’t fight back. You just stare. I haven’t seen anyone else, so is this a secret?” Scar didn’t give Cub the chance to answer, “Or do you just want to catch me. Drag me back like a prize and show me off. I won’t let you. I’ll rip you apart.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Don’t play games. You’re at my mercy.”

Cub couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess that was a dumb question. You wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t thinking it,” he mused, pressing his fingers through the holes in the net. Scar watched his movement with narrowed eyes, only shying away when Cub met his stare. “I don’t plan on hurting you. Or humiliating you, if that’s what you're worried about.”

Scar looked wary. “Go on.”

Cub smirked. Scar was so nervous . He shifted his position in the net, if for no other reason than to watch Scar squirm. “I want to know what’s happened to you, that’s all. I didn’t think I’d get the chance to speak with you without force, hence the net. You’ve put it to good use. I’m pleased.”

“You will not get what you want from me.” Scar spoke firmly, his fists clenching and unclenching. Cub squinted at his fingers. How was it that they had gotten so sharp? Was that blood near the edges, where his digits connected to his palms? If only Cub could see his teeth..

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Cub replied, absent. He examined his own nails, but he wasn’t quite close enough to compare. “You don’t want me getting bored of you. The ghosts on the island think your old crew are safer without you around, and I’m inclined to agree.”

Scar tensed. “I won’t go down easy.”

“I didn’t say you would. But you only have one life, and I’m already dead. You can’t stop me forever. Though, I wouldn’t worry about it now. I’m having fun.”

“Fun,” Scar spat, turning to pace. He muttered to himself words Cub didn’t catch, tone dark. Cub found himself disappointed as he leaned back, not quite settling. Did Scar not agree? Cub didn’t get the chance to think too much about the fact before Scar whipped around. “I have some questions for you. If you’d like, we can trade them. A question for a question. We’re businessmen, aren’t we?”

“I’d say so,” Cub said, curiosity piqued, “You’ve already asked a question, so do I get to go?”

“That wasn’t a question. I’m going first.”

“You asked if I got tired last night. Question. The answer is no, by the way. I thought you’d know better that ghosts don’t really work like that.”

“Shut up. I’m going first,” Scar said, and before Cub could argue, “Tell me about how death works here. Why can you die, and where do you go after? I see your little spirit wander off every time, but I can’t catch it.”

“You chase me?” Cub murmured, amused. After a ghost died, their physical form would melt away, leaving a just barely visible copy in its place. This ‘spirit’ couldn’t really think or feel (or at the very least, it couldn’t store memories), only meander back and regenerate at Spawn. “You won’t be able to touch me in that state.” He rested his head in his hands, getting more comfortable.

“I know that.” Scar seethed, “Answer my question.”

Scar wanting to know about ghosts and their system of death was probably quite a bad thing, specifically for Cub, but on the other hand…

“Well, my theory is that ghosts here aren’t actually as dead as your typical spirit. We can touch and interact with things just like you can, right? Can’t turn it off, not even if we wanted to. Not here. Well, if we’re half alive, I think it makes sense we can half die. We come back at Spawn. That’s where we regenerate at least. You can’t stop us from going there, if that’s what you were wondering. My turn?”

“Your turn.”

“Can I speak to Scar?”

Scar bristled, his nails (claws?) flexing, “That is quite possibly the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me. I am Scar.”

“Well it’s not like many people spoke to you as a normal vex.”

“I am Scar!”

Cub sighed, pushing back irritation, “Maybe we’re getting confused on the semantics. I guess you must feel like Scar, given that you share a body, and vexes don’t have names that I know of. That makes sense, I’ll reword my question. Can I speak with the original host of your body? Does he still have any control, or have you taken it? I thought I saw him once with the hog you killed.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I sure would like to.”

“Well congratulations, you’re speaking to the ‘original host’ as you call it. We don’t fight like you seem to think.”

“You don’t fight? I don’t believe you. Can he hear me? Will you let him speak?”

“I don’t need to let him do anything-” Scar cut himself off with a shake of his head, like he’d caught a chill. His posture did not relax, but when Scar opened his eyes, they almost seemed clearer, more focused. Interesting. “Go fuck yourself.”

Cub blinked several times as Scar relaxed, and leaned in, “That is.. Fascinating. How should I differentiate the two of you? Name wise, I mean. No offense, but Scar came first. I could give you a new name?

“No. You already asked your question. It’s my turn.”

“No, as in ‘No, you can not name me,’ or..”

“What happens when you get injured? Do you heal on your own with time, or is the process different? Do you have to go back to Spawn?”

Ah. Now that was dangerous. Did Scar not think Cub would guess his intentions, or did he just not care? Maybe this was meant more as an explicit threat. “That’s more than one question,” Cub said slowly. Scar’s eye twitched.

“Do you have to go back to Spawn to heal?” he repeated. Cub could almost feel the tension in Scar’s limbs. Could almost feel how he held his breath. The want. Cub’s own form shook with the tension.

“Yes.” Not an entire truth, but Cub had no intention of laying all his cards out on the table. He got the sense Scar was not entirely satisfied with the answer, but still, Cub saw the pools of magic in the air twitch and buzz, as if excited. It made Cub excited too, a feeling he struggled to push away. Scar was staring.

“It’s your turn,” Scar reminded, his voice more gentle than before. Cub sat up, blinking. He had needed the reminder, apparently, with whatever strangeness was fogging up his brain. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, to sweep away the sensations that weren’t his.

“Why do I get to ask questions? What’s the point in giving me the time of day?” Cub tried to play dumb, like the question was arbitrary, like he didn’t care about the answer. He didn’t, really. It didn’t matter why Scar had trapped Cub like this, why he hadn’t harmed him, why he played silly games to draw out the time. Scar sensed his desperation (which did not exist, for the record) like a shark, snapping on it with slyly narrowed eyes.

“If you get to play a fair game, you’re more likely to cooperate, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it.”

“No? What else, then?”

“You’re filling time. You want this to last. You want me.”

Scar laughed, a shrieking, horrible thing that drew on Cub’s own lungs, that made him want to sing in similar harmonies. It was not unlike the way he’d laughed on their third encounter as he split Cub’s chest. It was dizzying, or maybe that was the pulse of Scar’s magic. Cub closed his eyes against it, the color of its influence dancing behind his eyelids.

“You’re mistaken. Yes, yes, you’re mistaken, Cub, I don’t want you at all. I only want what you can give me, understand?” Scar’s attempt at cruelty faltered slightly, and his tone darkened, laced with cool loathing, “You’ve gone and- you’ve made me sick. I’m sick and d-dy ing -” Scar’s inflection seemed to fight with itself for a moment before evening out, “You’ve gone and made me sick, Cub. Believe me when I tell you I’d rather- I’d- I would rather- I-” Again, something in his brain seemed to short circuit, keeping him from finishing the thought. For a moment, he looked catatonic. “I am going to use you. I’ll take you with me. I’ll make you miserable.”

“Ah, that’s good. I plan to use you similarly.”

Scar stared, unblinking, and Cub stared back, equally enthralled by Scar’s presence as he was sure Scar was by him. He curled his fingers through the net, excitement buzzing through his form. Scar could feel it, just as Cub could feel him.

“Enjoy your stay, then. These arrangements will be temporary, and next time, well,” Scar trailed off, tapping his lip, “You’ll just have to see, won’t you.”

“Not if I get you first.”

“True,” Scar nodded, looking thoughtful as he turned away, beginning a slow walk back into the woods, “But I wouldn’t count on it. You haven’t been so lucky in the past.” Scar said nothing else, disappearing through the brush. Cub’s chest screamed in protest, his wings fluttering in pursuit of his closeness, but Cub found the rest of himself relaxing into the net. Scar would not go far. He would not come back, but he would not leave either; he would keep Cub close.

Until Cub escaped, that would have to be enough.

Cub sighed, turning his walkie on to static. It might be a while before he could get within range of anyone. If he was lucky, some monster or animal would get him, but suspended like this, he wasn’t counting on it. Cub eyed the net, wondering if it would be worth his time to start cutting. He didn’t have a knife; he was not about to arm Scar, so he’d have to use his claws or his teeth. Cub decided he’d wait.

It was a perfectly good net. It’d be a waste. ( And that was the only reason, nothing more .)

///

“Cub.” Cleo dismounted her horse, tying it up at a nearby tree.

“Cleo. It’s good to see you.”

Cleo crossed her arms, tapping her foot with a raised eyebrow. They had really perfected the look; some mix of irritation and disappointment, always laid on heavy. Cub was impressed each time he saw it (often). “So are you going to tell me why you’ve made me schlep all the way out here?” they grunted, sizing up the net.

“Well I think you can see I’ve gotten myself a bit stuck. Doc makes a great net, did you know?”

“How did this even happen?” Cleo circled the trap, her annoyance falling to bafflement, “Remind me again why I couldn’t just send a ghost out here? Would’ve been faster.”

“I set a mean trap, Cleo. Very mean. I figured you’d get the most out of seeing me stuck in it.”

Cleo stopped pacing, pausing to stare. After a moment, they smiled, shaking their head. “So you set this? Is that right? Then got yourself stuck in it?”

“Correct.”

“Well then. You’re right. This is hilarious. Whether or not it’s funny enough to be worth trekking all the way out here on the one day of the week I get to visit Hermit Island, I have not decided. I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“Maybe I did. You’ll never know.”

“Uh huh.” Cleo moved away, following the rope keeping Cub suspended to its source. The net bounced as Cleo swung her sword at the taut rope, gouging the tree behind it, but leaving the rope intact.

“You might have to-“

“Shush.” Cleo set the blade of her sword against the rope, sawing at it instead. Cub watched intently. “Hey,” Cleo looked up as she worked, “This thing doesn’t stop you from flying, does it? Couldn’t you have worked your way up and out of this thing? Get yourself off the tree at least, then maybe with this bit loosened...” she pulled her sword aggressively across the rope for emphasis.

“I thought about it.”

“Did you?” Cleo’s voice dripped sarcasm, but Cub ignored it.

“Well he did a good job setting this up. It felt disrespectful to just disregard that. It’s a good trap. I’m honoring it.”

“What the hell? Why are you-“ Cleo pinched the bridge of her nose, “Cub. How long have you been here?”

Cub shrugged. “Three days.” The rope snapped, and Cub yelped as he fell, hitting the ground hard. The net fell away, finally releasing him from its constricting hold. Cub let out a relieved sigh, taking a moment to lay with his limbs outstretched and relishing in the feeling of freedom. When he opened his eyes, Cleo was standing over him.

“You are an idiot.”

Cub waved them off, getting to his feet. He laid the net out so he could fold it, taking great care to keep it from being tangled. Maybe he should return it to Doc before he risked losing it again. He couldn’t say he was in too much of a hurry to have something like this happen again, especially given whatever Scar had planned for him. He took a moment, considering the idea, but shook his head. No, he would much rather be the one in control. He still had questions, ones that couldn’t be answered if Scar didn’t hold still. Cub felt Cleo’s eyes burning into his back, and turned, net under his arm.

“What is it?”

“You need to stop this, Cub.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cub wasn’t worried about being found out. Not really, not by Cleo at least. He faced her, his own neutral expression unchanged in the wake of her.. It was a little difficult to tell actually. Were they angry? Concerned?

Cleo frowned. They walked forward, producing a small notebook from their jacket and pushing it into Cub’s hands. “We found this after going through Scar’s room. The Kestrels let me keep it. Take it, and leave this alone. Better yet, just kill him so you don’t have to deal with the temptation.”

Cub stared for a moment before opening the book, skimming the first pages.

Going to that island was a mistake. Maybe I should have known that given how many times Cleo mentioned the inhabitants’ violent tendencies but.. I guess I thought they’d be human. I can fight humans. I can’t fight ghosts. My scars from the Boatem crew prove that well enough.

A bonafide conman with a silver tongue who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I don’t see any reason the vex wouldn’t take to you.

That’s what he said to me.

Well jokes on you, Cub. You’ve been conned. I’m not going back. Obviously. No matter how much my ghosts pester me. He told me to keep a journal for tracking any changes to my body.

Stupid.

Well I’m doing it, but not for him. I just want to complain, mostly.

Cub looked up. Cleo’s expression was unreadable.

“I really want this.”

“I know you do.”

The two of them sat in silence, eyes locked. Cub broke eye contact first, feeling a bump under the pages and finding a pen. Had Scar used this as a bookmark? Cub was grateful regardless. He flipped to the first blank page, writing quickly before tearing it out. Cleo didn’t move as he held it out.

“I didn’t ask for an I Owe You,” she said, only glancing at the paper before continuing to glare.

“Will you take it?” Cub’s wings twitched, and he struggled not to frown. It was a helpless feeling; something desperate.

Cleo sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll take it.” She snatched the paper from his hand, tucking it into one of her jacket pockets. “I don’t think you’re making a good choice,” she paused, breaking eye contact as she thought. Cub waited quietly until she spoke again. “Have you seen him?”

“I have.”

Pause.

“How is he?”

“Physically? Unwell. He might starve to death if he doesn’t figure something out soon, though, I think he may have. It’s unclear. He also mentioned something about sickness, but I have a feeling he was talking about the possession. I don’t think the vex knows how to care for a human body. Their needs are very different from a human’s. You can read my notes if you’d like.”

“I..” Cleo trailed off, eyebrows pinched, “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s good for me.”

“That’s alright.”

The following silence was long. Cub didn’t mind. He tucked the notebook away, making sure it was secure before going to Cleo’s horse, hoping to balance the net on its back. He could always fly back, but it would probably be rude to leave Cleo to ride alone after they had come out so far.

“Is he hostile?” Cleo asked, surprising him. He turned, blinking slowly.

“Yes. Very. He does not act human, and it took a lot of time to even get him to speak with me.” Cub lost himself for a moment as he felt his own heartbeat; a heart he didn’t have. He scanned the forest, but saw nothing. Figures. But he’s here . Cub frowned as his wings flapped sporadically, betraying his internal elation, “He is hostile.”

Cub didn’t like the narrow-eyed look Cleo gave him before nodding. “I figured. That’s a shame, I’d really like to get a chance to yell at him.”

“Well if I can ever subdue him, I’ll let you know.”

“Please don’t.”

Cub chuckled, turning back to the horse, “Will do.”

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #boatemghostsau #cubfan #cubfan135 #zombiecleo #docm77 #convex #cubscar #hermitshipping #debated on tagging this as shipping but #it is to me #they r obsessed with each other <3

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spideystevie · 1 year

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♡ allie's valentine's house party ♡

hello friends from the interwebs! i wanted to do a little something, something to spread some love and celebrate, well, love! thank you guys for supporting my writing and being here letting me be insane online. kisses on the foreheads to all of you <3 now without further ado, i present allie’s valentine’s house party!!

disclaimer: the party will last from sunday, february 5th to tuesday, february 14th. writing requests will close friday, february 10th.

it’s time to pass out valentine’s! make sure you put one in each person’s mailbox (we won’t tell if you give the cutest ones to your favorite people)!

send in a 💌 emoji + your favorite fic, writer, etc to spread some love this valentine’s season. maybe even give them a little kiss on the cheek!

tired of the radio playing the same love songs over and over? take a peek at the record collection and see if you find one you like!

send in a 🎧 emoji + i’ll recommend a love song to listen to this valentine’s day (i'm also open to recommendations as well <3)

uh oh! looks like cupid’s got his arrows out and it appears that he’s aiming for you!

send in a 💘 emoji + a character and a prompt from the lists below for a blurb. p.s. blurb requests don’t require a prompt, you can send in your own idea! {one} {two} {three} {four} {five}

to my very special mutuals i ask one question, will you accept this rose?

mutuals only! send in a 💐 emoji + i’ll write a tiny love letter to you

there’s one last box of conversation hearts left, d’you wanna share?

send in a 🧸 emoji + any ol’ ask game. fmk, cast your mutuals, would you rather etc. or just stop by to chat!

i hope you’ve had a great time, make sure to snag a little treat bag on the way out!

some housekeeping as we close out the night:

when sending in a prompt, please provide the full prompt and the list from where the prompt came from.

characters i will be accepting requests for: steve harrington, hangman & rooster

while i appreciate any and all requests, please be understanding that some requests might just not speak to me! and at the end of the day i have full creative liberty to choose which ones i do or don’t do. please don’t take it personally if i do not write yours!

please be patient! i am in my final semester of school so it may take me some time to get to your ask but i promise i am working on it.

tagging some mutuals: @harringtonbf @stevebabey @callsignsaturn @almightyellie @katsu28 @familyvideostevie @sanguineterrain @stevestummy @sunshinesteviee @sunlitide

#you can start sending req's now if you so please <3 #feeling: super excited about this #haven't rlly done something like this before or in like years really soooo :D #can never think of enough ppl to tag #allie's valentine's house party <3 #📍: pinned

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therealrosebuddies · 2 years

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Good Red, Bad Red

Part three of What’s Love Got to Do with It?

Steve Harrington x Babysitter!Reader (maybe soon to be FinalGirl!Reader)

Desc: Well, Steve and babysitter!reader have finally made it to Starcourt. All they need is a dress and between the two of them, that shouldn't be that hard. That is, as long as they don't bump into any one they hate. That would be terrible.

Notes: (sorry haha) Hi, thanks again for the support on this fic, I really, really appreciate it. Also, in the flashback, the POV gets a little wonky, and I wanted to apologize for that. I'll probably fix it later, but I'm tired and I wanted to get this chapter out! It really helps to connect these upcoming parts, so I'm excited to keep laying the ground work. Also, I may start releasing separate smaller one shots for this version of Stranger things, ones connected to this story. idk though haha

warnings: violence, character jumpscare

(set between season 2 and 3!)

Part 1 Part 2

read on ao3

Breathing in the smell of soft pretzels and a clean waxed floor, Steve decided that he liked this new mall. Of course, it wasn’t just because of the smell- that would’ve been weird. No. it was the throngs of people that littered the three huge floors, the bright shapes and colors that battled for his attention. It was a far shot from what Hawkins usually was and he liked it.

He glanced back to look for you, realizing that his thoughts were directly contrasting yours.

Pressing closer than you usually cared to, you almost clung to the back of Steve’s jacket, head on a swivel. While he was excited by the mass hysteria that was Starcourt- you eyed the crowd warily, as if any one of them was going to jump you. You were acting like a skittish, traumatized baby deer, and he was the park ranger ushering you to safety.

It was quite the change of pace from how your dynamic usually went.

(Most times, he was still attempting to be a park ranger and you acted like his smarter, more competent boss.)

“How’re you doing back there Chief?” He asked, making his way toward the escalator.

You repressed a sigh, elbowing past a group of teenagers with a wrinkled nose and brow. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Steve stepped onto the revolving steps, turning to watch your feet as they followed.

“No.” Answering distantly, you place a hand on the railing, head tipping up to take in the bright signs and gaping skylight. “I just like being able to get places without…” you trailed off, jaw clenched. “…without much in the way.”

Steve’s eyes widened as he fully faced you, both hands on the railing. “Do you really think of people as things in your way?” He asked, flabbergasted.

“No!” You insisted, voice high and head-shaking rapidly as you tried to dissuade him. “No- I just… I’m used to having a plan for everything I do. And my stupid little unconscious ideas don’t usually include dodging and weaving! I just don’t like the extra-”

“Oh my god. You’re like my old next door neighbor.” He breathed, twisting his body so he was looking half at you and half at the approaching end of the escalator. “He throws things at kids as they run over his lawn.”

You gaped at him as he jumped off the escalator. “I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.” You hissed, pushing forward in an attempt to get away from him. He watched you walk past, glancing fervently around the second floor. He smirked, waiting patiently for you to turn around. He knew you were more stubborn than you liked to admit, but also knew that you hated providing evidence for that stubbornness. Which is why he stood there with a smirk, watching as you slowly turned to face him.

“Which way is it?”

Steve shrugged, rubbing his face like it was the greatest mystery in the world. You rolled your eyes at him, brows low. He just walked over to you, gesturing ahead with his hands. This way, he could still lead the way and force you to tag along right next to him. And despite your little made-up plans, you followed after, complying with his actions.

Only a few minutes pass as the two of you walk together, Steve’s head snapping back and forth to make sure he was actually leading you in the right direction. Heaven forbid if he wasn’t. Then, as he was passing a flashy athletic shoe store, you got a little distracted.

He feels more than sees you leave his side. Steve turns, neck twisting this way and that. Despite your hesitation in this place, you sure didn’t seem too nervous enough to drift into the crowd. Luckily, he caught sight of you before the annoyance took root. You had slowed to a stop next to one of the displays, transfixed by the scene inside.

A girl was standing on a pedestal, dressed in a bright white gown. She twirled hesitantly in the dress, looking at herself in the multifaceted, full-length mirror. You stood with an unreadable expression, fingertips ghosting across the glass. Your eyes, normally fire bright and present, were distant and soft, lids low. There was a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You had left him by accident, and were now a million miles away, somewhere deep in that head of yours. Steve looked quickly between you and the crème-colored shop, connecting the dots.

“You know, I didn’t take you for the wedding type of girl.” He tells you, unaware of the way it sounded. The expression that crossed over your face dunked Steve’s nerves in ice.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You inquired as you snapped out of your quiet reverie, eyes narrowing sharply. “You don’t think I’m good enough to marry?”

“No!” He refuted immediately, “No, of course not- you… you’re great! Any guy would be lucky to land you!”

Your narrowed eyes softened slightly and pulled away from him, back into the store. But that distant look was gone- overtaken by your usual blazing alertness.

“I just…” Steve continued cautiously, hoping not to stick his foot right back into his mouth. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would stop and stare into a boutique window.”

“I have my layers.” Your eyes drift slowly from the store as you take a step back. He follows, eyes trained on the way your head bobbed as you spoke. “I can manufacture a mean flamethrower and plan a wedding- they’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Okay, well for now, we aren’t here to plan for your future wedding. We’re here for Prom.” He reminded you, feeling like he needed to really stress the importance of this dance. If you could be that transfixed by a wedding dress- how hard would it be to get you excited about these ones? And, the more excited you were, the more painless it would be for the both of you.

And he needed that night to be as painless as possible.

He suddenly felt your gaze on him, burning mischievously behind innocent lashes.

“You know, with the way you talk about it, I think you’d be someone who’s planning their wedding right now.” You prodded, voice bouncy as you bumped his arm with yours. The sly little smirk that stretched your mouth was covering something- some kind of hidden motive. The thought of you trying to dig for something- some other hidden reason of his- inflated his ego. Instead of ignoring or tolerating him- you were actively trying to pull him apart like a Rubix cube. And if he was being honest- it was fun.

Playing along, Steve looked at you and shrugged, cocking his head left then right, making a show of contemplation, his eyes squinted. Your mouth popped open, brows shooting up.

“Wait- have you?”

“No! I mean, I’ve definitely thought about it.” He admitted, saying much more than he let on. If he was telling the whole truth, he'd done a lot more than thinking about it. Honestly, it was a dream of his- a life goal. He wanted the wedding, the house, the kids, and the steady job. Everything that came with it. The wedding was just part of it. Well...That, and a wedding included being legally bound to someone who really, really loved you. He wanted that kind of life- badly. He wasn’t going to tell you all that of course, not if he didn’t want to look insane. “But not to the extent of you know, what type of flowers would be on the tables or who would actually be invited.”

“Oh my god.” You breathe and Steve turns at your much less giggly voice. You’re looking up at him with a slack jaw, fingers pressing against your cheek and grazing your lips “You’re a total sap.” You laugh, the sound jumping out of your throat as you drop the hand.

“Hey! Don’t laugh.” He hisses, face burning as he's sure it starts to turn pink. Why’d he even admit that anyway? Was it just because he wanted to relate to you? Was it because he wanted you to feel comfortable? Or was it just because of the soft, easy way his words seemed to tumble out of his mouth when you were around? Either way, he was starting to regret it. He shook his hand and pointed it at you, vying for reclamation of his dignity. “You’re gonna want to cut that shit out if I’m going to be paying for both the tickets-”

“Steve- it’s not a date. I already told you that I can-” You stop in your tracks, mouth snapping shut. For a moment, Steve wonders if it’s another bridal boutique.

And then he sees what you do.

And his nose aches to think about the last time he had been this close to Billy Hargrove.

*****************************************

It was a few days after Halloween, only thirty minutes after the rest of the team had left to take care of their separate missions- and Steve’s group was left at the house.

That lucky group included you.

And you weren’t happy about it.

You had been literally benched by Hopper, grounded after you had voluntarily driven his adopted daughter off of his secret property. From what he could gather, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing you had done. But that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed about being left at the Byer’s house.

And now, there was this.

Between the two of you, Steve had assumed you were the smart one.

But oh my god, he had been so wrong.

Instead of dissuading the kids from their stupid, reckless plans to distract those weird dog things, you were agreeing with them. It was driving him crazy, watching you scramble around the house with them, trying to decipher away to fight an all-powerful interdimensional being. What were you guys even going to do? Hit it with Lucas' dinky little slingshot?

But honestly, he should've been prepared for your strange behavior. He should’ve known you'd be on board the second you showed up that night, freshly decked out in your all-black outfit, a shadowy specter cloaked in leather and Demodog blood. Oh- and Eleven, who most everyone thought had died about a year ago.

The biggest red flag should’ve been your makeshift flamethrower, a dangerous combination of hairspray and a tiny pink lighter. It was terrifying to see the distance between your fingers and the roaring flames.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t considered any of that.

You were standing next to the kids, staring over Dustin’s shoulder at the weird, pasted map. A flicker of excitement was blazing in your kohl-lined eyes, as if an unseen plan connected in your brain. “We can take my car. I still have an extra lighter left over-”

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Steve exclaimed, clapping loud enough that he finally tore your attention away from the quickly spiraling plan. The blaze faltered, your head snapping towards him questioningly “This is not happening.”

“But-”

“No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe- we promised-'' Steve looked pointedly at you, swathed in your unfamiliar cloud of coal, really trying to convince Dracula rather than the kids. If there were two ‘babysitters’ saying no, there was a much higher chance of nobody dying. You just stared at him blankly as he continued. “-and that’s exactly what I plan on doing. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

You shook your head slightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Steve, if we can help at all-”

“I said, does everybody understand that?” Steve repeated loudly, no longer asking. You stared up at him as something changed in your pointed, blown wide pupils, your stained lips forming a silent ‘o’. Your gaze flickered across his figure before you looked at the kids- and they looked at you. Once again, they were referring to your reaction, your judgment of the scenario.

He would’ve been mad about it if he hadn’t been wanting to do the exact same thing.

“I’m going alone then.” You decided, arms folding defiantly as Steve pinned you with an unbelieving look. All he was asking for was one thing. One.

You were being difficult on purpose- he was sure of it.

Yelps of resistance rose up from everyone else in the room as you placed your hands on your hips, mirroring Steve in his posture. Eyes narrowing up at him, you stood as an unwavering point of night in the yellow seeped house. You were intimidating for someone your size- but Steve didn’t care. He wasn’t letting anyone be stupid on his watch- and that included you.

“Like hell you’re-”

That’s when the loud roar of a car rips through the night, stopping all of the commotion to a dead halt. Max rushes to the window and her round pink face grows pale, blue eyes clouding over. “That’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

For a tense moment, no one moves, the sound of tearing gasoline flooding the air with anxiety. Steve looks at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. He wanted to make sure you weren’t going to run out the back door and head off on your own. But you’re just staring out the window, attention firmly set on the dark Camaro. It didn’t look like you would be moving any time soon- not with Billy Hargrove posted up in the driveway.

Steve looked at the rag-tag group, a lump hardening in his throat. He knew you were a capable person- he did. You and El had literally just taken on a pack of Demodogs- so he couldn’t rationalize that you weren’t able to take care of yourself- or the kids.

But this was a fragile situation. He wasn’t sure what Hargrove was capable of- but he didn’t want to find out.

“Everyone stay here.” Steve ordered.

You moved to follow him, pent-up emotion roaring beneath your gaze.

“Hey. No- stay with the kids.”

“Steve.”

“I’ve got this,” he assured you, pointing back at the kids on the couch. “If a Demogorgon comes in, use that can of hairspray you love so much.” Plastering a smirk across his face in an attempt to loosen your tight fists, he turned toward the door and let the cold November air swallow him up.

He could handle this. The fewer people he had to worry about, the better. As long as everyone was inside, he just needed to scare Hargrove off.

Piece of cake.

He stood expectantly at the foot of the porch, dread grinding his stomach as the reckless driver kicked open his door. Steve could smell his cigarette from there, the smoke announcing his presence.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?”

“Yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants.” Steve said, trying to move the whole thing along. He didn’t have time to put up any resistance to his shitty attitude.

And for a minute or two, Steve thought it was going well. Maybe he had it handled enough that your little group would leave this night without a scratch.

And then Billy saw the kids- and you- in the window.

Steve should’ve known it was going to come to blows. Or at least, he should’ve been ready for it, or thrown the first punch. If he had, the guy wouldn’t have been able to stomp up to the door and smash it open, coming face to face with you.

Steve groaned on the ground as Billy stomped past him, beating you to the door before you could lock it. The door slammed, sounding far away as Steve tried not to throw up across the grass.

While he did so, you had other problems.

Billy had taken one step inside the house and was looking at your little group like it was something to eat. His eyes eventually landed on you, planted firmly between him and the kids. He let out a short laugh, teeth sharp.

“Hey Gatekeeper, you in on this with Harrington?”

You kept your jaw clenched, unfazed by his jab at your Halloween costume. The Halloween costume that you had worn for the very kids behind you. The kids that were relying on you to keep them safe, some even gripping the edges of your jacket on reflex.

The act made your heart heavy, fists clenching as you stared down the teen goliath before you. If he thought he was going to get a chance to even yell at one of them, he was dead wrong.

You decide not to indulge him, face stony.

A stitch of silence passes and Billy shifts his eyes off of you- and onto Lucas.

“Sinclair.” You stretch your hand out a little farther, hovering close to Hargrove’s next target.

He makes a purposeful lunge in Lucas’s direction and you seem to make up your mind, launching forward without fear. The contact is fast- and the sound is immediate. It was like watching a forest fire colliding with a mountain. Your hand snaps out at a speed and ferocity that only the last year and a half would have given you, striking across his face like lightning across the sky. The rings that you had acquired from your recent makeover shine black on your retreating hand, explaining the fresh split in Billy’s lips. He stares at you in momentary surprise, eyes flaming as he realized what you had done.

“Okay.” He muttered, wiping the bright, sluggish blood from his growing smirk. “You first then.”

He’s on you before you can stop him, rough hands digging into your collar. You’re drug backward by pure force, sneakers dragging against the floor. You hear the kids screaming. The struggle you put up barely has any effect as Billy slams you up into a cabinet.

You honestly should’ve thought this one through a little more. He was bigger than you- and he wasn’t some kind of Demogorgon that you could light on fire. He was a human. A giant, hulking, insane human- but a guy nonetheless. If you really wanted to take him on, you needed something that was going to really hurt him- even kill him.

And you don’t think you were ready for that- physically or mentally.

The world is spinning and your head rings, reeling from the impact. Your hands fumble for purchase as he pushes into you, burning hot knuckles bruising your collarbone. He’s looking at you like you were the one who was doing this- like you were the one who deserved to get thrown into the looney bin.

“You do that again and I’m going to make sure the next place you end up is a hospital.”

You ignore his threat as you glare up at him, contempt rolling behind closed lips. He was stronger than you- there was no arguing that point. But you’d be damned before you let this guy get anywhere near those kids. As soon as he felt finished with you, he’d go straight for Lucas.

That wasn’t going to happen.

You push out your neck and sink your teeth into one of his thumbs.

Billy drops you with a scream. Falling to your knees, you scramble away, head reeling and lips smeared with blood. You hadn’t hit bone- but you know you had made a dent. The taste fills your mouth, warm and metallic. You didn’t like it. And if you didn’t get away from Billy now, you’d be tasting more of it pretty soon. That thought was enough to push you toward the table, head ringing. But before you can lift back up, one of your ankles is yanked backward, slamming you back to the ground.

There isn’t time to brace for the impact. Your jaw connects hard with the wood and stars explode across your vision. A noise squeezes through your clenched teeth. You hear a strangled laugh pierce through the blended shouts for your safety as you’re drug back across the floor. You move to fight back, but a hand fists itself in your hair, slamming your face straight into the hardwood.

Pain explodes through your nose, eyes pricking with tears. Before you can even react, you’re being raised to your knees, yanked up by the hold on your hair.

“You know what? I take it back. We aren’t going to need a hospital tonight.” Billy threatens, pointing at you with the hand you had tried to take a bite of. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you probably would’ve laughed at his bloody finger. His grip on your hair grows tighter. “You’re dead.”

And honestly, you might have been. You might have gone out against a sociopathic musclehead, splattered against the Byer’s kitchen floor.

But then you catch sight of a familiar mop of brown hair over Billy's shoulder, and your heart performs a weak jumping jack. You struggled against your aggressor's grip, keeping his eyes on you.

Steve had managed to make his way back into the house. He had stopped momentarily at the sight in the kitchen, panic shooting through his veins the way he imagined heroin would. Your limp figure was just barely visible behind Billy’s and he couldn’t see what was happening. He couldn’t see you.

Steve blinked out of his momentary hesitation and rushed forward, pushing Billy hard in the back. You dropped out of his grip, hands barely planting before you hit the ground.

Hargrove turned with wide eyes, coming face to face with Steve, a savior in blue denim.

“No. You are.”

For the second time that night, Billy was struck across the face, Steve’s fist just barely missing the spot where you had slapped him. He watched, stone-faced as Billy stumbled away, a bone-chilling cackle rising up from his throat. Steve stole a glance at you, pushing away slowly from off the floor, nose dripping with darkened blood. Dustin and Max were pulling you away from the scene, coaxing you back from the danger.

For now, you were out of harm's way.

If he had gotten there sooner, you wouldn’t have had to be in it in the first place. Your blood wouldn’t have been smeared across the hardwood floor, dark against the dinky yellow lights of the house.

Billy pointed at Steve, pulling his attention back to him. “Look’s like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” He taunted, smile full of teeth and half insane. He stepped forward as he pushed his hair out of his face, eye to eye with Steve. "I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about.”

Despite how much he wanted to kick his ass, Steve knew they had bigger problems to deal with. The sooner they got rid of Billy, the better. He was wasting their time, and he wanted him gone. “Get out,” Steve ordered simply, contempt straining against his steady words. He didn’t want to waste more breath on this guy than he had to.

And apparently, Billy felt the same way. At this point, words were useless.

Which is probably why he swung at him.

And for a while, Steve was doing pretty good. He landed a few punches and kept his head down and for a few moments, it seemed like the two guys were on common ground.

That was, until Billy smashed him overhead with a plate.

That was when everything went downhill.

Steve had ended up with his back against the floor, mirroring your situation a few minutes earlier- except he was getting punched over, and over, and over. The contact rained down repeatedly, his face beginning to feel like a tenderized piece of meat. He probably would’ve been a goner if you hadn’t keyed Max onto the syringe next to you. She had plunged it into his neck without so much a flinch, injecting him with the strange tranquilizer.

Everything sounded underwater as Steve lay on the floor, lights dancing across his eyes. He only really registered what was happening when you appeared over his head a few minutes later, head haloed by the yellow light.

“Hey.” You slapped his face lightly, Steve barely feeling it. “Hey, Steve, you need to stay awake. I think you’re going to have a concussion.” You informed him, hands now planting firmly on his shoulders and shaking. But his head felt like cement. Even if he had understood a single word you had said, nothing but a groan would have passed his swollen, bloodied lips. “Come on. You did pretty good. If he hadn’t had the plate, my money would’ve been on you.”

You were lying, but he appreciated it anyway, even through the fog.

Steve spit up a weak chuckle and you flinched, dodging the spray of blood. “Sorry.” he mumbled between split, swelling lips, trailing your movements as you pushed up his coated, sticky bangs. Your hand was warm.

He wondered if you were always this warm.

In the back of his punch-drunk brain, he registered the jangling of keys and pieces of the conversation between you and the kids. He’d feel you shake him every few moments, right as his vision would start to fuzz, growing black at the edges. Eventually, you were pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him out of his steadily growing puddle, hands and face streaked in red.

“Steve…” you sounded far away. “We need to go. And we can’t leave you here… not with all this blood…” He watched your lips move but didn’t really understand what you were saying. Go where? And why did the blood factor into his need to tag along?

When he didn’t respond, you just sighed, a strange sort of pity hanging across your face. He blinked lazily, watching as you turned away from him, obviously talking to the kids. He would’ve liked to hear what you were saying, but it was too late for him then.

He had already begun drifting off.

********

“Huh. I see you took my advice.” Billy called out, stopping the both of you in your tracks. He was standing a few feet away from you, accompanied by some of his block-head cronies and rim-lit by the turquoise lights of a nearby store. Pushing away from the pillar he leaned against, he began walking towards you, smile dangerous.

Usually, Billy stayed out of Steve’s way. After last October, he had seemed to give everyone Max was friends with a wide berth, holding fast to his promise. Steve didn’t think he would be the type of guy to honor a sister’s wish, but so far it had looked that way. Until now, it seemed.

He hopped down the two small stairs, hands dug deep in his pockets as he came to stand right in the way. Steve would’ve groaned if he hadn’t known better. Billy’s razor-sharp gaze flickered your way as Steve felt the weight of you at his side. He almost sneered, a hand twitching reflexively, as if cowering before your bared teeth. “And look at that- it’s Max’s new mommy.” he looked at Steve. “That must make you Dad huh?”

“We’re friends.” You answer, harsh and hatefully hot. Steve realizes then that as much as you like to argue with him, he was nowhere close to the level of dislike you had for Billy. You looked at the leather-bound prick in front of you like he was a Demogorgon. Not a human- a monster that you needed to get rid of. In your hate, you beat Steve to the punch, poison dripping from your tongue. “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

Billy tilted his head at you, pink lips curling over blinding fangs.

“I forgot you were the ones with the balls in this relationship.” His gaze tracked you up and down, a little huff leaving his mouth. “Did you have fun cleaning up after me and your little boyfriend?

This time, you didn’t flinch.

“Not as much as kicking in your nose.”

Oh. Yeah, Steve had forgotten about that.

Before you had left the house that night, and even before you had gotten him in the car, you had recruited Max and Lucas to help drag Billy out to the garbage. The literal garbage. The three of you had left him propped up against one of the cans, keys dropped into his lap. As little as you had wanted to help him out, you had wanted him gone as soon as you could.

Then, after Max had gone back inside, you kicked him square in the nose.

You had thought it poetic- and payback for you and Steve’s matching injuries.

Billy let out a terse little chuckle, strain rolling in his darkening eyes. Steve had been ready to jump in, to say anything. But you had beat him to it- reminding Billy exactly why he had been staying away for the last few months. When it came back down to it, you were all friends- and shared a deep dislike for Billy, one that went deep enough to cause violence. So if he ever tried something, he knew there were plenty of people waiting to get back at him in return.

Steve was one of those people. If it ever came to a head like that again, he wouldn’t be going down this time. Especially not when there were no plates around.

Air tense, Steve tore his gaze from your rocksteady stance, ready to back you up. If trading insults was the agenda today, he could do that with you.

But that’s when he saw it.

While you absolutely loathed Billy- he found you entertaining.

It was the searing heat in his eyes as he had looked up and down, smirking close-mouthed and taunting. He had been much too pleased by you jumping into the conversation, forcing yourself between himself and Steve. He had seen this look before. It was the one guys would throw at each other after passing a girl on the street- or talking about someone in the locker room.

The flash of panic hit Steve in the chest, throat closing up like a crushed coke can.

He didn’t deserve to look at you like that- he didn’t deserve to look at you in any way besides apologetically. From like- the bottom of a six-foot grave that the two of you had dug.

Or something like that.

Either way, he wasn’t going to get to be around you anymore. From what Steve was gathering, Billy wanted you to take a bite out of him.

But you didn’t seem to realize this- probably focused on every way you’d like to hurt the mulleted barf bag in front of you.

Steve took a chance and caught your shoulder. “Okay, back up.” He advised, coaxing you back as Billy leared closer. Luckily for him, you didn’t fight back, letting him step in front of you. If he hadn’t, you probably would’ve lasted a few more moments before trying to tear into him. Billy scoffed, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from you before stabbing them into Steve.

“Yeah. Put that new bitch of yours on a leash.”

The rush of anger that punched through his throat came so fast and so hard that it almost knocked him off his feet.

Okay.

Maybe you couldn’t do anything violent.

But Steve hadn’t made any promises about himself.

He pushed forward, intent on getting Billy to apologize. Whether it was through words or fists, he wasn’t really sure. But before he could even open his mouth, a toddler burst between the two men, laughing maniacally. Following quickly after was his mother, offering quick apologies after she raced past.

Steve looked at the gap caused by the interruption, blood quieting in his ears. Whatever tension was there before had snapped, dissolving into the commercialized air. Billy seemed to figure that out too. He looked up at Steve, blue eyes narrow before relaxing into a cocky nonchalance. The guy threw his arms out wide, shrugging at himself- as if daring Steve to resume what he started. He was trying to make it look like he was inviting a fight- like he wasn’t concerned about the aftermath it would bring.

Luckily, Steve knew better.

And, he had an errand to run.

He let out a dry chuckle, nudging the back of your jacket. “Let’s get out of here. We’re wasting our time.”

You nodded, never keeping your eyes off of Billy. Steve held his tongue, knowing he couldn’t tell you to stop glaring. That would just open up a whole can of worms.

Hargrove watched as the two of you passed, smirk unflinching even as Steve turned his back. He could feel the burning sensation as you walked away, drilling into his back. And then it was gone, replaced by the carefully controlled air conditioning of the mall.

“God, that guy is a dick.” You groaned, knocking Steve out of his paranoid thoughts.

“I dunno, I think he was pretty pleasant,” He tried joking, the words feeling forced on his tongue. He grimaced at that, annoyed that he still felt Billy’s presence. He swallowed, trying to banish the dry scratchiness in his throat. ”But in all seriousness, I was worried he was going to swing at you.”

“Aw, you were worried about me?” You asked, the pitch of your voice rising in mock flattery.

Steve just blanched at your funny, but clueless reaction. “Yeah. I was a little bit worried about you. I mean, you were the one who almost bit his finger off.” He answered, completely honest. “I thought I was going to have get another concussion.”

“Defending my honor?”

“Saving your scrappy ass.” Steve corrected, smothering the brief moment of vulnerability a few seconds earlier, hoping his humor did the job. You hadn’t seemed to notice his admission, but he just wanted to make sure.

He didn’t need you getting any ideas.

You laughed, and the tension left in his shoulders evaporated. Whatever had just occurred minutes earlier- or even months ago- was now completely out of your head, replaced by his own clever jokes. He would’ve patted himself on the back if it hadn’t made him look stupid.

The remaining walk to the store was short, filled with relative silence or little comments on items that stuck out in the windows. By the time you made it, Steve had five more solid reasons why he liked the mall.

Stepping into the department store, Steve was immediately hit by the flowery perfume, face scrunching.

“Dress first?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you drifted over to one of the display racks, fingers ghosting over the fabric. Steve shook his head, mostly to get rid of his reaction to the perfume and partly to answer.

“No. I already have a suit.” He answered easily, still focused on taking in the advertisements and strange decorations.

You spun on him, dress quickly forgotten. “ You already have a suit? Then what are we matching with?”

“The tie and the corsage.” Steve answered easily, passing you and heading over to what he thought was formal wear. You stared at him, for a moment refusing to move. He looked over his shoulder at you, miming confusion. “You coming or not?”

“I can’t believe-” You stared, but quickly cut yourself off, eyes closed as you took a deep breath through your nose. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” you decided, eyes flashing open to stare at him. “If we aren’t looking for a suit, you’re going to be at my every beck and call.”

Steve had just laughed at that, unaware of how serious you had been.

You made good on your promise, quickly getting the gist of the department store before he did. You swept through the isles quickly, grabbing dress after dress. He followed your lead, throwing in a few of the dresses you had passed by. If he was going to be here, he might as well join in on the fun. He preferred the ones with lots and lots of sequins. You hated them. Around thirty minutes later, the cart Steve pushed was piled high, threatening to topple over.

Conceding the need to empty the cart, the two of you found the dressing rooms, connected to a wide, mirror-lined hallway. Steve stopped the cart in one of the first open rooms, watching as you disappeared behind a curtain.

The first dress you tried on was a disaster. It had been one of the ones Steve had pulled- the one with huge, arcing frills that seemed to make up the straps. He had seen plenty in the store like that- so he had just assumed it was what girls were wearing to prom. He didn’t claim to know much, but he could see all of the mannequins and the other girls in the store carrying dresses around that were just like it.

But when he threw it over the dressing room door, all he heard was a groan.

“No way.”

“What?!” Steve asked, genuinely confused. It was pink- you liked pink. Hell, your nails were painted pink. “What’s wrong with that one?”

“I just- I don’t like it. Give me a new one.”

“But you were the one who set it in the cart.” He reminded you, eyes wide and pointed at the wall. There was a door between the two of you, but he still saw the perfect picture of your reaction in his head. You had most likely rolled your eyes, all haughty and annoyed, arms folding as you crinkled the dress in hand.

“I was distracted!”

“Listen, if you try it on and don’t like it, you don’t have to try on any of the other dresses I picked out.” Steve promised, a smirk on his face. Of course, he meant it if you didn’t like it. But you were going to love it. He knew that. As a guy who really didn’t care that much about fashion, he still had excellent taste- so the promise wasn’t going to matter.

At least, that’s what he thought until you actually pulled back the curtain.

“I look like a half-eaten cotton candy stick.” You bit out, bare feet smacking against the linoleum as you spread your arms out wide. The bright pink material was poofy and wide, the curved sleeves sticking out and digging into your jaw, while the shorter skirt rode up your thighs with every small step you were taking. It was... it was a terribly awful dress.

But the thing that broke him was the fact that you were in it, all edges and blazing personality, stuffed into a pink, oversized, paper mache finger trap.

“No! No, you look…” Steve tried his best to keep it together- to keep that stiff smile firm upon his lips. But one look at your smoldering expression broke him. He ducked his head down toward his feet as the laugh burst from his nose. “Yeah, yeah the cotton candy thing is really accurate. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologized, watching with a rising, weakly sympathetic grin as you snatched the next dress from the cart- one he hadn’t picked out.

Fair was fair he guessed.

But, there wasn’t much luck on the next one either. It was a color you had liked- shimmery, iridescent turquoise. Steve had insisted was going to make you look like the little mermaid, but you didn’t care.

You had shuffled out, holding the skirt high along with your hopes. Those quickly came crashing down as you had to admit to him that he was right. The dress did look a little like Ariel’s seashell bra.

So, that dress hadn’t worked.

No biggie.

You had a huge pile of them in the cart next to Steve, so you weren’t running out of them anytime soon.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

Morbidly wrong.

You tried on dress after dress, but none of them really worked. Sometimes it was the fit, the color, the way it made you look like a cartoon character- nothing was working out. Steve had handed you each dress, knowing that this would be the one.

It never was.

You kept throwing them back at him after changing out of them, your frustration quickly beginning to be taken out on him. At one point, Steve felt like he was drowning in fabric, choked by colorful skirts and sleeves. He had let you do it though, knowing a sarcastic comment offered by him would’ve been met by more crankiness.

And honestly, he was starting to worry that you were going to give up. The huge pile the two of you created was down to its last few dresses. And the odds of any of them working out? Dismal.

Steve’s feet ached, having tried a million ways to stay on his feet. But after as long as you had been inside that partition, he couldn’t take it anymore. He slid down to the floor, finding heaven on the cold, squeaky floor.

“Steve.”

He grunted in response.

“Throw me one.”

Without much of a complaint, Steve got up onto his knees and slid one of the dresses from the cart, balling it up and throwing it over the top of the curtain. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve pumped it fist as an excellent show of marksmanship. He slumps back against the wall, resigning himself to sit and agree with whatever you veto next. After a minute or two, the curtain rod shrills at the drag of metal. Steve drops his head to look at you and…

Huh.

You looked really good.

Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes wide as his gaze traveled from the very edge of the skirt, up to the off-the-shoulder neckline. You had shoulders- and a collar bone. He had never seen those from you. He swallowed slightly, stomach burning with something like indigestion.

The red of the dress stood out like a firecracker against the unoffending beige of the hallway, punching through the unerring boredom. It followed your curves like a car on a track. Your hands follow those curves, a scarlet vision straight out of fiction. He straightened up slightly, eyes blown wide.

“Hey- that looks-”

“It’s too much.” You muttered, a hand smoothing up and down your bare arm as you looked at yourself in the mirror. “It’s tacky. None of the other colors are half as loud as this one.”

Steve faltered, eyes landing on the curve of your butt. He cursed silently, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

This was you.

You were his friend- a surprising gorgeous one- so the fact that he had looked was an accident. One he definitely would not be thinking about later.

He cleared his throat, re-engaging you as he moved to stand. “Even the cotton candy dress?”

You didn’t answer him, lost in your own head as you turned this way and that, nose wrinkling and brows forming their familiar concerned curves.

On one hand. You were right. Most of the dresses in the store- or just in general- were pastel-colored, light and unoffending, or just slightly off-color. He couldn’t even remember a time a girl had worn a dress that bright and distracting- he would’ve remembered it.

“It fits you,” is what he finally manages to offer. He had moved closer behind you, now visible in the changing room mirror. The fluorescents overhead burn his eyes and are giving him a headache, but he sucks it up anyway. The picture of you in the mirror makes eye contact with him, frown jagged. Steve returns that expression. “You don’t like it?”

How didn’t you like it?

You held your tongue for a few moments, your fingers swinging slightly in the loose fabric.

“I like how it looks on me. I’m just worried people will think I look stupid,” you admitted. “Is that a totally ridiculous thing to worry about?”

You.

You of all people were worried about looking stupid.

Through his exhausted haze, Steve felt the deep sickness of confusion. He watched as the person who had stolen a police chief’s gun worried about what would happen when you settled on the wrong dress. He didn’t think you felt fear. You had never shown it before. Maybe the closest he had seen was annoyance or uncomfortability- but even in the face of monsters and sociopaths, you kept up a defiant image.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he had asked you.

Deep down, Steve had been too scared to show up to a stupid high school dance alone. And you? He thought you wouldn’t have broken a sweat.

But here you were, greying and panicked over your slim dress options.

For every time you had saved his ass, he owed you this one at least.

The thick confusion starts to dissipate as he makes up his mind and he’s back to quickly answering your concerning, but albeit endearing question. “(F/n). Look at who you’re asking,” He joked, warmth curling in his chest as you heave out a barely audible laugh. You turn over your shoulder to look at him and he continues. “Honestly, I think that’s the first dress that’s worked for you- and I’m exhausted. We’ve been here for two and a half hours.” Steve whined slightly, making a show of his sagging and weary bones. You narrowed your eyes at his act, lips pursing to keep back what he knew was a smile. Encouraged, Steve shot out one of his arms, ready to wrap it up. “And, just for a little more incentive, I’ve already got a tie that matches the dress.”

Your eyes widened, mouth breaking open with curved corners that you didn’t care to hide. “You just want to spend less money!”

Steve just shrugged, prideful in the way you had seemed to blaze back to life. “Finally figured that out huh?”

Gracing him with a biting, forced laugh, you ruffle up your hair and turn back to the mirror, hands atop your hips. Steve was starting to get used to how you looked, chest loosening. You were still your over-critical, annoying self. It put him at ease to see those familiar expressions crossing your face, returning you to normal. Everything about you was the same- you were just wearing a dress.

The soft worry that had filled your face was gone, replaced by serrated caution of the red garment. You were weighing your options. Lip pouted slightly, you took another spin, head on a swivel as you made sure to capture every angle of the dress.

Steve would’ve teased you for being so meticulous, but he knew how long it took him to do his hair. Instead, he just offered a soft roll of his eyes, folding his arms.

“Shut up.” You muttered, grabbing two fistfuls of the dress and lifting. Walking in place, your focus was solely on the wily fabric.

Thinking he was going to be stuck in this department store for decades, Steve let out a played-up groan, gaze finding the ceiling.

“Do you really think this works?” You ask finally, now facing him instead of the mirror.

That momentary shock of emotion flooded his system, limbs tensing. Steve loosened his jaw- repeating the same phrase over and over: she’s annoying, she’s annoying, she’s annoying. Steve nodded reassuringly, the confusion gone. “You look great.”

“Are you sure?

He took a deep breath, knowing that he could handle it. He could just tell you the truth. No big deal. “(F/n), if I didn’t already know how much of a nightmare you are, and I saw you in that dress, I’d be asking you out.” As it rolled off his tongue, cheeks slightly pink, the pressure he’d felt on his chest lifted.

“A nightmare?” You gasped, eyes wide as you spun to face him.

“Hey- that was a great compliment. I was basically calling you hot.” He pointed, correcting you for your own benefit. Then he winced, tilting his head. “Platonically.”

“Good.” You nodded matter of factly, turning to look at yourself in the mirror, smile growing as blinding as your eyes. “Platonic is the only option.”

With that out of the way, you hopped back into the dressing room. After a few minutes, the dress was off and situated, and the two of you dumped the discarded dresses back into the cart. It was a high stack- the ladies at the desk hadn’t been exactly happy when you brought it back.

But that didn’t matter.

Because you bought the dress.

After those long few hours, you were done. And Steve couldn’t be happier. Until you forced him to carry the long plastic bag that is, almost skipping along as the two of you left the heavily flowered store. He couldn’t complain though. Well, he could, and he did- but there was no real emotion behind it. He liked spending time with a friend- and right now, you were one of the few he had. Even if it was holding your bags or almost falling asleep on a department store floor.

On the way out of the mall, the two of you stopped and grabbed Chinese food- because by the time you had finally finished, it was time for dinner. Steve had wanted a burger- and you had wanted tacos.

You had met somewhere in the middle- somehow.

Eventually, dinner was eaten in the parking lot, sitting atop the hood of Steve’s car, sharing the chow mein and two sides meal.

You pushed away from him as he grabbed at your box.

“Hey!” You yelped, watching helplessly as Steve was able to snag a wonton from your grasp.

He shrugged, making a sort of ‘duh’ face at your expense.“We’re supposed to be sharing.”

“You said you didn’t like wontons.” You reminded him, repeatedly stabbing your chopsticks into the box, glare weak.

“Well, I didn’t love how they looked.” Steve explained, shoving his stolen food into his mouth and pushing it aside. “But now I know they taste great.”

He watched as you shook your head at him, tugging your bent legs closer into your body. Your silhouetted hair shook as you did so, drawing his eyes to the mellowing red sun.

“You’re like a little boy,” you grouch, shoulders hunched as you eat your own wonton.

Glee rising in his throat and stopping from swallowing his food, Steve coughs slightly, barely avoiding choking.

Beside him, you smile, red light reflecting in your eyes. “Gag.”

Steve snapped back to look at you, eyes blown wide. “What?!” He asks, trying to sound shocked and hurt- but can’t help the delight driving up the pitch of his words. “Did you just tell me to gag- so I would drop dead?”

You looked at him over your cup, mixing your chow mein slowly. “Yeah.”

“That’s it,” Steve began, slapping his own box down next to him and turning towards you. “I’m taking all of the wontons.”

“No-” You cut yourself off as you let out a scream, pushing out with one arm and extending the other, far away from him as he reached over. You caught him sharply in the chest and he barely grunts, reaching in a display of desperation. He can feel your breath bursting against his collar as you wind up for another yell. “You don’t even like them!”

“Stop complaining- just hand them over-”

“(F/n)?”

Steve freezes, ice-cold fear running through his bloodstream. Throat drying, his gaze dropped from yours, panic overtaking his motor functions. You take his momentary stillness to jab him with your elbow, pushing him off your shoulder and turning toward the voice.

He knew who it was before having to turn around.

He heard that voice... saw her face whenever he closed his eyes. She was the one person he wanted to see the most, and the one person he couldn’t talk to. And- she was the only reason you were going to the prom with him. If had had the choice, he would be with her in a heartbeat. He loved her- and it was sucking the life out of him.

The relaxed air he had felt sitting beside you caught in his chest, easily swept away by the girl approaching.

“Nancy?” You ask, grin growing wide as you recognized your friend. But as you actually took a second to look at her, a good forty feet away, you were able to get a look at her face. She was walking toward the two of you at a brisk pace, expression unreadable. Typically, you would’ve received a swift smile back.

That couldn’t be good.

Usually, she would offer him an awkward smile- even a wave if they somehow crossed paths. But the two of you got neither.

“Steve.” You turn to look at him, brows low and expression confused. “You told Nancy about us going to Prom- right?”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Now he knew why she was walking so fast, an uptight vision of pale purple hurtling straight for the car. The realization grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, threatening to stop the flow of oxygen to his brain. He’d really screwed up and his own body knew it before he did.

But what could he do?

He just inhaled through his teeth, shoulder’s raising apologetically.

“Damn it, Steve.” You groaned and turned back to Nancy’s ever-approaching figure, ready for the worst.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #x reader #reader insert #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #y/n #fanfiction #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #x you

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