#Come on what about chapters 42 and 43 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pizzaqueen · 11 months

Text

Steve Harrington time stamps

For when you just want to watch Steve’s scenes

I had the idea to do this during my current rewatch thanks to @harmonictechnicality (who was very happy for me to post this) and then @al-ghoul sent me his timestamps so a HUGE thank you there!

Oh, and @faequeentitania has a supercut of all of Eddie's scenes (link is in their bio) so I didn’t add Eddie’s time stamps to this post

My original intention was to not post this until it was completely done, but I honestly don't have much energy right now, so there are only time stamps up to S04E05. But I do intend to finish it one day! (If anyone wants to help out with the remaining ones, that would be great.) You can also see where the formatting changes and that's where I stopped typing up my notes and just used what @al-ghoul sent me, but I do want to reformat it so it's uniform, and add in songs used for his scenes, but I just wanted to get this out there

And I want to say sorry if someone has already done something like this in the meantime! I tried searching but Tumblr search isn't great

SEASON ONE

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

14:54 - 16:07 Steve’s first appearance in his rendezvous with Nancy in the bathroom

37:59 - 38:42 Mike sees Steve trying to climb through Nancy’s window

41:04 - 43:12 helping Nancy study

Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street

12:26 - 14:04 asking Nancy to the party at his house (mention of his parents); the scene cuts to Nancy and Jonathan at 13:20 but you can still see Steve in the background until 14:04

38:17 - 38:37 opening the door for Nancy and Barb (song: Raise a Little Hell by Trooper*)

43:06 - 45:39 pool scene with the drinking, etc., with Tommy H, Carol, Nancy and Barb (song: I Melt With You by Modern English)

49:18 - 49:40 drying off and going upstairs

50:22 - 51:18 we see Steve and Nancy through the window from Jonathan’s POV then it cuts to inside Steve’s room

52:36 - 52:50 getting hot and heavy with Nancy (song: tiniest snippet of the opening strains of Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles)

*seems to be playing inside Steve’s house because it’s muffled and gets louder when he opens the doors

Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly

00:40 - 1:50 sleeping with Nancy, intercut with Barb being killed (song: Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner)

3:03 - 3:50 Nancy tries to wake Steve, then leaves

10:16 - 11:11 at Nancy’s locker

20:48 - 21:56 cafeteria with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy

30:07 - 32:16 confronting Jonathan about photos

36:01 - 36:43 waiting for the game in the hallway with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy; Nancy leaves

Chapter Four: The Body

13:16 - 14:30 meeting Nancy between buildings; asks her not to tell the cops about the beer (mention of parents)

Chapter Five: The Flea and the Acrobat

25:47 - 27:51 Steve shows up at Nancy’s to say sorry and invite her to the movies (mention of parents; song: Steve singing a bit of Old Time Rock and Roll)

Chapter Six: The Monster

3:29 - 4:45 driving to Nancy’s with Tommy H and Carol; sees Jonathan and Nancy on bed through window (song: Sunglasses at Night by Corey Hart*)

30:46 - 33:18 alley fight with Jonathan

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Bathtub

14:21 - 16:00 Tommy brings Steve a can of Coke and painkillers; Steve has fight with Tommy and Carol then drives off

18:40 - 19:21 offers to help scrub graffiti off cinema marquee

Chapter Eight: The Upside Down

14:42 - 17:03 comes to Jonathan’s to say sorry; gets introduced to the upside down shenanigans

18:53 - 22:00 Nancy gives Steve an out; he runs, then he comes back (it cuts to Hopper and Joyce at 21:18 for a couple of seconds)

22:27 - 23:50 following the lights with Nancy and Jonathan that Joyce and Hopper are lighting up as they go through the UD version (intercut with scenes of Joyce and Hopper)

48:01 - 48:24 epilogue snuggling on couch with Nancy in Christmas sweater

SEASON TWO

Chapter One: Madmax

12:13 - 14:02 Nancy looking over Steve’s essay in the car outside the school (song: Talking in Your Sleep by The Romantics)

20:09 - 20:38 waiting by the corner in the hallway to pick Nancy up and twirl her around by the lockers

31:38 - 33:50 dinner with Nancy at Barb’s parents

Chapter Two: Trick or Treat, Freak

15:58 - 19:22 studying in the library with Nancy/Steve is worried about the government if they talk too much about what happened and suggests going to party and pretend everything is normal (between 17:15 to 17:36 it cuts to Nancy thinking she sees Barb)

31:23 - 32:17 Tommy H and Billy come over while Steve is with Nancy at the party; Tommy H: “We’ve got a new keg king, Harrington.” (Song: Shout at the Devil by Mötley Crüe)

42:03 - 44:14 dancing with Nancy (song Girls on Film by Duran Duran)/spills drink on her/bathroom ‘bullshit’ scene

Chapter Three: The Pollywog

19:11 - 21:14 playing basketball against Billy (Song: Go! By Tones on Tail) and talking with Nancy between the buildings

Chapter Four: Will the Wise

16:23 - 17:53 basketball again (Song: Scarface (Push it to the Limit) from Scarface) and the shower scene with Tommy H and Billy

Chapter Five: Dig Dug

35:17 - 35:52 shows up to Nancy’s with flowers and is waylaid by Dustin

Chapter Six: The Spy

00:51 - 3:43 In car with Dustin (song: Hammer to Fall by Queen*) going to kill Dart with bat

12:39 - 13:06 bringing meat with Dustin

24:51 - 27:34 laying trap for Dart with Dustin (meat on the railroad tracks) and talking about girls

31:48 - 32:37 at the junkyard with Dustin

33:10 - 33:21 at the junkyard with Dustin, Lucas and Max

35:27 - 35:38 fortifying the bus/setting stuff up at the junkyard

35:49 - 36:02 pouring gasoline

36:48 - 37:01 going into the bus

37:44 - 38:24 inside the bus; flicking the lighter

40:46 - 45:06 demodogs appear; Steve goes out as bait/to fight them

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister

Doesn’t appear in this episode

Chapter Eight: The Mind Flayer

08:35 - 10:33 walking from the junk yard with kids at night, looking for Dart on the train tracks

13:27 - 13:56 in front of Hawkins lab; meet up with Nancy and Jonathan

15:15 - 15:45 in front of the lab

16:15 - 16:21 gate opens

21:58 - 22:22 waiting at gate; Hopper picks them up

23:06 - 23:42 at the Byers’

24:43 - 29:03 in Byers’ kitchen; Steve is in and out of the frame/sometimes in the background

29:23 - 29:55 duct-taping the shed with Nancy

31:51 - 32:07 finishing the shed with everyone

33:05 - 33:10 practicing with a bat at Byers'

34:32 - 34:35 blinking lights at Byers’

38:52 - 39:16 morse code

40:31 - 40:56 “close gate”

41:31 - 41:37 hearing demodogs

42:15 - 44:34 preparing to fight/El arrives

S02E09:

00:07:23 Steve (at Byers with everyone) (00:08:03)

00:09:08 Steve (at Byers backyard with Nancy) (00:10:02)

00:10:50 Steve (on the Byers porch with kids) (00:11:06)

00:15:22 Steve (putting demodog in the fridge) (00:15:57)

00:16:17 Steve (at the Byers with the kids / Billy arrives) (00:19:09)

00:19:47 Steve (fighting Billy) (00:21:02)

00:24:41 Steve (waking up in the car with Max) (00:25:54)

00:26:43 Steve (arriving to the tunnels) (00:28:17)

00:30:00 Steve (at the tunnels) (00:31:42)

00:33:40 Steve (torching the tunnels while Will burns) (00:34:43)

00:36:52 Steve (running through the tunnels) (00:36:59)

00:38:00 Steve (freeing Mike / meeting Dart) (00:39:38)

00:40:16 Steve (running out of the tunnels) (00:41:19)

00:43:40 Steve (gate closed) (00:43:44)

00:45:19 Steve (at the Barb's funeral) (00:45:27)

00:48:51 Steve (driving Dustin to the Snow Ball) (songs: Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar and Twist of Fate by Olivia Newton-John*) (00:50:10)

*both are playing inside the Snow Ball Edit: actually the Pat Benatar song seems to be coming from his car on re-watching 😅 it definitely sounded like from inside the building to me before but now it doesn’t

--------------------------------------------------------

S03E01:

00:09:15 Steve (letting the kids through Scoops Ahoy back door) (00:09:40)

00:10:46 Steve (lights go out) (00:11:01)

00:12:12 Steve (lights go back) (00:12:18)

00:24:42 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Robin, hitting on ladies) (00:26:46)

S03E02:

00:10:15 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Dustin) (00:12:34)

00:17:52 Steve (translating Russian with Dustin) (00:19:24)

00:35:27 Steve (Robin translated first Russian) (00:35:54)

00:41:26 Steve (mall after hours with Robin and Dustin) (00:43:37)

S03E03:

00:17:23 Steve (spying for spies in the mall with Dustin) (00:19:19)

00:27:12 Steve (found a sport fitness "spy" with Dustin) song: Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go by Wham!* (00:28:32)

00:29:20 Steve (with Dustin returning to Scoop Ahoy) (00:29:26)

00:30:03 Steve (Robin cracked the code) (00:30:12)

00:39:20 Steve (in the rain looking at delivery) (00:40:30)

*playing in the jazzercise class

S03E04:

00:09:04 Steve (Scoops Ahoy, devising a plan) 00:10:08

00:21:14 Steve (Robin brings Starcourt blueprints) (00:22:58)

00:24:32 Steve (bringing Erica into the plan) (00:25:11)

00:34:51 Steve (Erica goes into the vent) (00:35:05)

00:36:22 Steve (Erica got to the room) (00:37:00)

00:40:28 Steve (opening the boxes with the team Scoops) (00:42:08)

S03E05:

00:00:07 Steve (the elevator room falling) (00:01:58)

00:16:25 Steve (stuck in / getting out of the elevator room) (00:19:46)

00:25:19 Steve (walking the tunnel) (00:27:16)

00:34:40 Steve (finding the russian base / fighting the guard) (00:37:01)

00:37:21 Steve (Robin found The Machine) (00:38:21)

S03E06:

00:00:14 Steve (being apprehended by russians) (00:01:48)

00:17:12 Steve (being beaten up / questioned by the russians) (00:20:21)

00:31:06 Steve (tied to a chair with Robin) (00:35:58)

00:45:25 Steve (truth serum kicks in / Dustin saves them) (00:48:50)

S03E07:

00:06:31 Steve (Dustin is driving away through the tunnel / elevator) (00:08:45)

00:13:13 Steve (running from the mall guards into the cinema) (00:14:04)

00:14:30-32 / 00:14:41-44 (tweedldee and tweedledum in the cinema)

00:23:19 Steve (drunk with Robin in the cinema hallway) (00:25:08)

00:28:27 Steve (confesses Robin in the cinema restroom) (00:35:02)

00:39:07 Steve (sneaking out of the restroom) (00:40:03)

00:48:50 Steve (hiding from mall guards under the counter) (00:49:16)

00:49:41 Steve (El defeated the guards) (00:50:51)

00:51:09-14 Steve (El collapses)

S03E08:

00:00:36 Steve (Eleven's fucked up leg) 00:01:25

00:02:50 Steve (El pulls the Flayer out of the leg) (00:03:16)

00:04:28 Steve (everyone is catching up on things) (00:05:11)

00:06:34 Steve (hanging around while everyone prepares) (00:06:43)

00:07:40 Steve (driving away from the mall) (00:08:10)

00:13:32 Steve (driving kids to the radio hill) (00:14:42)

00:17:50 Steve (on the radio hill) (00:18:19)

00:24:19 Steve (on the radio hill, Flayer attacks Starcourt) (00:25:12)

00:26:03 Steve (on the radio hill running back to the car) (00:26:14)

00:32:54 Steve (hitting Billy's car at Starcourt, Nancy's driving away) 00:33:35

00:34:39 Steve (Flayer pursues the car, Suzie appears) (00:34:50)

00:35:49-53 Steve (in the car while Dustin sings over the radio)

00:36:28-31 Steve (in the car while Dustin and Suzie both singing)

00:38:04 Steve (in the car while Flayer goes back to Starcourt)

00:42:29-34 Steve (throwing fireworks at the Flayer in the mall)

00:43:03-04 Steve (keeps throwing)

00:44:16-22 Steve (on the radio with Dustin)

00:50:33 Steve (Flayer disassembles) (00:50:43)

00:54:58-01 Steve (at the ER car in the background)

00:56:44 Steve (arriving with Robin at the Family Video for a job) (00:58:04)

00:58:55 Steve (bumping into the cardboard figure) (00:59:12)

--------------------------------------------------------

S04E01:

00:15:24 Steve (in car with Robin) (00:16:58)

00:54:43 Steve (with Brenda at basketball game) (00:56:24)

S04E02:

00:07:56 Steve (at Family Video with Robin) (00:09:49)

00:28:13 Steve (at Family Video with Max & Dustin) (00:29:06)

00:44:58 Steve (at Family Video flirting / searching for Rick) (00:47:43)

01:01:45 Steve/Eddie (at Reefer Rick's) (01:06:14)

01:07:22 Eddie, Steve (talks about Chrissy / Vecna revealed) (01:12:30)

S04E03:

00:12:28 Eddie, Steve (receiving supplies at Rick's) (00:14:23)

00:15:14 Steve (at Fred's crime scene) (00:15:29)

00:25:29 Steve (with kids and Nancy discussing Vecna) (00:28:12)

00:38:21 Steve (outside shrink's house in the car) (00:39:28)

00:41:22 Steve (driving away from the shrink) (00:41:33)

00:42:00 Steve (driving the car while Lucas radioes) (00:42:43)

00:50:53 Steve (breaking into school shrink's office at night) (00:51:38)

00:55:54 Steve (at the shrink's office) (00:56:53)

S04E04:

00:02:09 Steve (school after Max's episode, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:04:50)

00:07:29 Steve (the Wheeler's house - Max writes letters, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:10:44)

00:17:35 Steve (Max finished the letters, wants to go) (00:20:04)

00:31:33 Steve (driving Max to the trailer park) (00:31:53)

00:34:35-49 Steve (Max returns to the car)

00:48:17 Steve (driving Max to the cemetery) (00:49:00)

01:02:32 Steve (going for Max at the cemetery) (01:03:04)

01:03:17 Steve (trying to wake Max up) (01:03:35)

01:04:58-07 Steve (with Dustin and Lucas trying to wake Max up)

01:09:01-12 Steve (Dustin brings music to Max)

01:10:45 Steve (everyone searching for the tape) (01:11:06)

01:11:50-00 Steve (Max flies)

01:13:43 Steve (Max is out) (01:14:14)

S04E05:

00:14:32 Steve (sleeping in Wheeler's basement) (00:14:38)

00:36:19 Steve (arriving at Creel's house with everyone) (00:40:06)

00:49:55 Steve (checking Creel's house with DNR) (00:52:36)

#Steve harrington #stranger things #st4 #steddie #steve x eddie #st3 #st1 #st2 #(steddie is the target audience but it's also for anyone!!)#(reblogs very much appreciated on this one!)

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theapangea · 1 year

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Night Out

Chapter: Girls Night Out Pt.1

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Nancy, Robin, Max, Eleven

Summary: You and Steve have been dancing around each other for sometime now, neither of you wanting to make the first move. All your friends decide it is finally time for you both to confess your feelings.

A/N: This is probably my fav piece of writing to date so hope you enjoy! Read Boys Night out Part 1 first!!

*Also posted on AO3: Theapangea*

Part 3

Tick tock

The faint clicking sound of the slow moving clock above the door echoes within your body. Your eyes follow as the seconds hand makes its way around the face of the clock. Your heart beat mimicking each second that passes by, each second slower than the last. Your shift crawling to the end of the hour as you bite your cuticles to the bed, anxiously waiting for it to be over.

The clock was crawling closer and closer and closer to 6pm, the end of your shift. The smell of freedom was inching its way to you. You could almost feel the sign of relief when you will be off of work.

The drowning sound of Robin’s voice following you around the store for the last two hours fades as she continues to talk about this week’s crush. This interaction feeling move like torture that the shift itself. And as much as you love Robin and her daily word dumps, you couldn’t help but not want to listen today.

Pushing yourself off of your elbows and making your way to the opposite side of the counter. Leaving Robin to finish her monologue by herself.

She watches as you grab the last stack of VHS tapes that need to be returned to their place on the shelf. Her gaze follows as you make your way slowly around the small store, half-assing the shelving job knowing she will have to fix all your mistakes when you leave.

Step by step. One foot in front of the other. Dragging out the simple task of your simple job. Continuing to watch the clock as you pace your movements to match the speed of the endless dial.

12 minutes 43 seconds left

12 minutes 42 seconds left

12 minutes 41 seconds left

Your eyes only leave the countdown to follow the trail of movies on the floor that lead directly to the two girls gushing over some guy on the cover of one of them. “Don’t you two have somewhere better to be?” Pushing some of the movies with your shoe to see their selection. A quiet groan exits your mouth, one that only you would be able to hear, as you realize you will have to be the one to pick up their mess.

“Nope.” Max and Eleven say in unison as they stare up at you towering over them. Their ear to ear grin engulfing their faces.

You loudly groan now, letting them know of your distaste for what they are doing and this conversation.

“What about hanging out with your little boyfriends ?” You speak as if you are talking to a small child, kneeling down to be eye level with them on the floor. Max rolling her eyes at your remark as you continue, “I mean come on - Friday night and you two are here?”

“You’re here.” El speaks before tearing a piece of licorice with her mouth. Her comment is not meant to be a jab at you but you couldn’t help to think that Max’s sarcasm is starting to rub off of her.

“That’s because I’m forced to be here.” You specify slowly, picking up a couple of movies that they have scattered on the floor before standing up again.

“Forced but loves every moment of it because I’m here.” The voice says from behind you. Robin chiming in as she swings her arm over your shoulder.

And she was right. You love Robin, loving hanging out with her and love having shifts with her. But today was just too long and it felt like the rest of your life was waiting for you outside those glass doors that keep you prisoner to the capitalist society that you are forced to participate in as Robin would put it.

“Besides,” You shrug her off nonchalantly, “I’ve got plans later.”

“You never have plans.” Robin points out as you walk back to the center counter, the three girls following behind. All of them exchange the same curious expression of what could possibly be happening tonight.

“Well I do tonight.”

Making your way around the counter to organize the various sets of movies that you had picked up into their designated genre piles. The three girls stay on the other side, playing the part of the anxious audience waiting at the edge of their seats for your next act to begin.

“Where are you going?” El asks, resting her head on her hands. Her palms pushing her cheeks and lips together into a make-shift fish face.

Your eyes glance quickly at the clock above their heads.

9 minutes 23 seconds left

You ponder the question for a moment, wondering if you should even share the information with them. You knew they wouldn’t understand why you are going to this stupid function. But maybe this was supposed to be how you ended your final month in high school. Maybe this was supposed to be the big event that happens before you graduate.

“Jason Carver’s party.” You feel as if you have to force the words out of your month.

And then you wait.

“Why?” Robin questions, you can hear the disgust tones as she drags out the word.

And there it is.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to say anything. None of them exactly like Jason and why you should have kept your mouth shut in the first place.

At that moment you didn’t have an answer for Robin. At least not a good answer. At least one that she wouldn’t instantly dismiss knowing that you were lying. High school was ending, if everything went according to plan you would be out of this small town sooner rather than later and at this moment you wanted to be young and dumb. You wanted to go to this high school party just to say that you went. Just to experience the adoslance stupidity and underage drinking one last time. Trying to savor whatever distaste you had for the town of Hawkins.

And maybe because if the basketball captain invites you to his party personally, you don’t just not go. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about some after school makeout sessions that you had with that specific basketball captain and that maybe you were hoping for it to develop into something more. But you couldn’t possibly let Robin know that you actually wanted to go to this party and that you and Nancy have basically been talking about it for the past two weeks.

You stumble over the words as your thoughts become jumbled. Not knowing exactly what to say that would satisfy Robin, knowing nothing will at this point.

Ding

All of your heads turn rapidly to see who has stepped into the retail space. The familiar girl with short brown hair coming to your rescue, saving you from the wrath that was Robin Buckley and her opinion.

“My savior.” The whine in your tone was obvious but you didn’t care. You were just happy that Nancy was here to take you away from this conversion and this shift.

A suspicious smile rests upon her face as she comes to the small circle that you and the girls have formed. “I know something you don’t know.” She practically sings, the smile growing wider as she spreads her fingers along the counter, leaning closer to you.

“What?” Not breaking eye contact hoping that she can give it away without verbally telling the rest of the group.

“It’s about a certain boy that you like.” Her smile becomes too much to bear for her small face. You can basically see that holding in this information was visibly painful to her.

“Nancy.” You whisper in a harsh tone, you don't want anyone to know about any crushes that you may or may not have. You could feel their glancing eyes as you and Nancy share your hushed exchange.

“What boy?” El’s sweet voice echoes.

Your eyes widen as you practically beg her to remain quiet. To shut up now and forever or else .

“A boy you know.” She says without breaking eye contact. Clearly she could tell you were bluffing as she knows you would never tell a soul about any of your private conversations. Obviously Nancy wasn’t always the best keeper of your secrets, especially when it came to spilling any crush that you may have. Her motives were more childish than sinister in nature.

“A boy I know…” El whispers to herself, trying to piece the puzzle together. Counting on her fingers all the boys she currently knows.

“It’s Steve duh.” Max interjects, lightly hitting El’s arm. El’s expression reliving as the mystery is finally solved.

You instantly object to the speculation, not saying anything that is remotely audible, but you can see Nancy shaking her head yes confirming Max’s answer.

“Wait, how do you know anything about that?” You wonder out loud.

“Dude everyone knows that you like Steve.” Max adds, pushing herself onto the top of the counter. “Plus, Robin told me.”

Head whipping towards Robin, her name falling from your lips as loudly as a scream.

“I’m sorry , she got it out of me.” Robin mumbles under her breath, throwing up her hands as her last defense. Knowing that telling Max would have come out sooner or later but she was just hoping that it was much much later.

“Well it doesn’t matter be-because I really du-don’t like, I-I don’t like St-” Stumbling over your words again, trying to gain any sense of confidence to defend yourself.

“Do you want to know what I know or not?” Nancy cuts your embarrassing ramble.

“Yes…” you groan knowing that none of the three girls listening intensely on the conversion are going to go away any time soon.

“Ok,” She begins, tucking her loose hair behind her ears. “I was going into the basement to tell Mike that he needed to empty the dishwasher because I did it last time and mom always asks me to do it even though Mike is perfectly capable-”

“Nanc, the news.” Interrupting her blabbering to get back on track.

“Right, right…so…as I was walking down the stairs to the basement, I overheard Steve, Mike, Dustin and Lucas talking about you .” Enunciating the last word. The melody swirls in your head as you can only hear the words ‘Steve’ and ‘talking about you’.

“Really?” Robin practically taking the word right out of your mouth. Her intonation more baffled than yours would have been. Almost as if she can’t believe that Steve would actually like you in return. A small roll of your eyes before landing back on Nancy.

You watch as Nancy nods her head signaling that her story was true. The corners of your lips slightly turn upwards when the image of Steve talking about you comes to mind. The way he would push his brown locks away from his face wondering if you actually liked him. The way his lips would speak your name into the universe, with tones of hopefulness and desire. Your name hanging onto his lips by a thread as he talks about his little crush that he has on you with the younger boys. All looking to him to set the example to go chase after the girl of his dreams.

“Well what did Steve say?” Robin questions as your mind runs loose. You’re incredibly thankful for her at this moment for being your voice as no words can make their way out of your dry throat.

“Well that was really all that I heard.” Nancy’s gaze shifts downwards as her hand falls onto yours, lightly running circles with her thumbs trying to comfort you in some way from across the counter. “I kind of ran back upstairs before I could hear the full conversion.”

“So no confirmation or anything?” Max feels a bit of an anticlimax with Nancy’s story. Though it was the best thing that has happened all day so she couldn’t complain much but still nothing like coming into the store with big news and it falls flat.

And there you were. Trapped in your own skin as your mind continues to race. Only this time the darkness begins to seep in as your heart comes crashing down from the high you were just having. Deep down inside you knew that Steve liking you was too good to be true. But there was still a sliver of hope that you tried so hard to hang onto.

Nancy studies your face as she can tell you are getting too into your head. Her hand squeezes yours to get your attention, “He could like you.” Hoping that her words would be the cure to the wash of sadness that has overtaken you.

“You don’t know that.” Your voice cracking as it feels like your world begins to break. Steve now knows that you like like him and you have no idea how he feels or what he is doing.

“Why don’t you go ask him?” The soft voice speaks again, El’s bright eyes full of a small dose of hope.

Robin practically screams with excitement over El's comment, “El’s right. He’s at Nancy’s house right now. You could tell him how you feel.” Her hands tightly wrapped around yours and Nancy’s arms, shaking them frantically.

“And say what exactly?” Trying to clarify what exactly this group wants you to do. Trying to understand how they think this is a good situation.

“Hey I like you, do you like me, like’s makeout.” Max says so casually while picking at the sole of her shoe.

Nancy interjects before you get a chance to speak, “You’re coming over to my house anyways so what’s the harm?”

“The harm is that he could totally reject me to my face and then I would die.” You try to explain to her but it feels as if none of them are listening. None of them are understanding how this could possibly ruin your whole life. If Steve doesn't end up liking you then the next few months are going to be absolute disaster.

“ It’s now or never.” Nancy emphasizes every syllable . “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Yeah, don’t you open with him tomorrow.” Robins addition hitting you like a semi-truck. This whole day and conversion totally making you forget that you would have to come face to face with him tomorrow morning. Feeling as if you don’t make the confession tonight than it will be ten times more awkward in the morning.

The loud sound of air being pushed through your nose, nothing making you relax as the anxiety begins to build as you look back up at the ticking clock.

2 minutes 15 seconds left

2 minutes 14 seconds left

Only this time, you didn’t want the time to run out. You didn’t want your shift to end anymore.

“Besides,” Nancy begins, her delicate voice lacing around each spoken word, “if he’s not at the house then we just go to the party like planned, right?”

Shaking your head in agreement as there was no going back in time to redo this day. There is no way you can avoid Steve forever is this God forsaken small town.

Nobody said anything after that. It was almost as if the room grew colder. The small glances that were being exchanged between the small group of girls trying to come up with any sort of plan other than just simply confessing was zero to none. Obviously you were going to think of the worst possible scenario because if Steve really doesn't like you then maybe it will hurt less. You know that's not true but you try with every ounce of you body to convince yourself that it is.

You grab your coat and purse from the back and follow Nancy outside the glass doors that once kept you safe from the impending doom that is this night.

~~~

I'll post part 3 this weekend!! Hope you are liking the story. Thank you for reading and I love YOU!!!

Tags: @orphic-musings @shireentapestry

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington series #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington #stranger things steve #stranger things #reader insert #nancy wheeler #robin buckely #max mayfield #eleven

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atsadi-shenanigans · 8 months

Text

Fic Master List

(Banner gif done by the amazing @britonell)

My AO3 profile:

It’s all BG3!!!

Holy fuck people made art 🥹:

Drunk Batstarion by @britonell

Eleanor by @lyzelky

Eleanor and Astarion, sitting on a bench by @britonell once again 💜

Eleanors! by @shierke

Astarion is trying to flirt (critical fail) commissioned by @sasseffects and drawn/rendered/colored by @squirrelcurls and @vipermenace

Snippets:

Tiddy Cuddles - actually SFW. Batstarion never walks anywhere ever again when he can get uppies.

One Shots (All of them are rated E):

Stuffing - an entry for Wanksgiving 2023, sexually explicit. Ties into Feeding Alligators.

All I Want for Solstice - happy holidays 2023, have some fluffy smut! Eleanor tries to spread holiday cheer. Astarion tries to spread Eleanor's legs. Rated very much E for explicit sexual content. Technically a two-shot, but whatev.

Valentine’s Day Special - Roses are red, violets are blue, blah blah I’d like to fuck you. Or: Astarion bought a toy. Eleanor wants to give him a night he won’t forget. ASTARION GETS PEGGED.

You Could Just Ask - Astarion is terrible about communicating what he wants. But Eleanor is getting good at translating gremlin. ASTARION GETS PEGGED AGAIN. The man is a MENACE.

Something Full-Bodied and Red - Aunt Flo comes to visit Eleanor. Astarion is thrilled to make her acquaintance.

Feeding Alligators:

Turns out, it’s not heart disease that gets you. Not a car crash, the second coming, or even a plain old slip in the shower that removes you from this mortal coil. It’s motherfucking aliens. Your Uncle Randy would be so proud. Or: two losers cheat, stab, and flirt their way to a win.

Rated M for language, violence, and (very) eventual sexual content. Astarion/Named Tav with a backstory.

Updated every Wednesday and Saturday.

Chapter 1 - Naked and Afraid

Chapter 2 - Friendship is Magic

Chapter 3 - PANTS!

Chapter 4 - Man vs. Wild

Chapter 5 - First Blood

Chapter 6 - Skeletons!

Chapter 7 - Potion of Tongues

Chapter 8 - Mind Your Language

Chapter 9 - You're (not) a Wizard

Chapter 10 - Atelier

Chapter 11 - Murder Buddies

Chapter 12 - Hustle

Chapter 13 - Psycho

Chapter 14 - U.S. Foreign Policy

Chapter 15 - It's a Goddamn Cult

Chapter 16 - When Animals Attack

Chapter 17 - Panties!

Chapter 18 - Untitled Training Montage

Chapter 19 - Bite Night

Chapter 20 - The American Red Cross Association

Chapter 21 - I Got Better

Chapter 22 - Swamp People

Chapter 23 - Paranoia Agent

Chapter 24 - From Druids, With Love

Chapter 25 - Splitting Atoms

Chapter 26 - Gray's Anatomy

Chapter 27 - True Blood

Chapter 28 - The Art of War

Chapter 29 - Knives Out

Chapter 30 - Auntie Knows Best

Chapter 31 - The Bachelorette

Chapter 32 - Munchies

Chapter 33 - Dream Date

Chapter 34 - Fireside Chats

Chapter 35 - The Devil Wears Douchebag

Chapter 36 - Glee

Chapter 37 - Gaslight

Chapter 38 - Gatekeep

Chapter 39 - Girlboss

Chapter 40 - Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 41 - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Chapter 42 - Slaughterhouse Four

Chapter 43 - The Proposition

Chapter 44 - Dance With the Devil in the Pale Moonlight (rating went up, new warnings apply).

Chapter 45 - Walk of Shame

Chapter 46 - Not Quiet on the Western Front

Chapter 47 - Soul Jar

Chapter 48 - Astarion and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Chapter 49 - Idihwisvsga

Chapter 50 - The Smallest Ember

Chapter 51 - I Lived Bitch

Chapter 52 - Only I Will Remain

Chapter 53 - Goblintown

Chapter 54 - Get Outta My Swamp

Chapter 55 - Love Shack

Chapter 56 - This Bitch

Chapter 57 - Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

Chapter 58 - Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter 59 - Plans Within Plans

Chapter 60 - 1812

Chapter 61 - It Compels You Though

Chapter 62 - It's My Party

Chapter 63 - I'll Cry if I Want To

Chapter 64 - Gandalf's Dilemma

Chapter 65 - Into Thin Air

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #fanfic #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #astarion x tav #slow burn #eventual idiots in love #baldurs gate iii #bg3 #tav has backstory #plus size tav #demisexual tav #tavstarion #feeding alligators fic #astarion fanfic #modern girl in faerun

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kraken17 · 28 days

Text

One quote from Enid Sinclair per every chapter of Kooky Spooky in which she has been present.

(Note: She is present in Ch.6 & 7 but in a total wolf out, so she has no dialogue).

"Yeah, yeah... relax. The knife-throwing contest is still on. I already made it clear to Wednesday that she could only use volunteers as living targets. Yoko has offered." (Chapter 1)

"I think she's mine and Wednesday's daughter, but not from around here." (Chapter 2)

"Sigh... as tempting as it is I'd ask you both not to maim her just because of her bad habit of spouting occasional idiocy." (Chapter 3)

"They've captured our Friday. Let's go find her and then you'll teach me what's the most painful way to rip off the head of the person responsible." (Chapter 4)

"Sorry, I just… I don't feel like wasting time with this ceremony right now..." (Chapter 5)

"OMG! Why do I always forget this now when I return to my human form!!??" (Chapter 8)

"Holy shit, I'm a hunk." (Chapter 10)

"Aaaw, I think it's very cute. I'm sure deep down your Bruno appreciated this kind of attention." (Chapter 11)

"Are you very fond of this nightgown?" (Chapter 12)

"And I smell people, and pollution, lots of pollution." (Chapter 13)

"Gosh, you're a year older than us now. This is disconcerting." (Chapter 14)

"Wednesday, don't talk about your parents as if they were rabbits." (Chapter 15)

"I'm sorry... I..." (Chapter 16)

"You threw me against a building and caused me to terrify a family! That's very rude!" (Chapter 17)

"At least you're not a racist nutcase who would use her personal Hyde to gather bits of human remains for resurrection rituals." (Chapter 18)

"Your sister told us a little about you when we met her. Well, she told us that you liked to be thrown with catapults..." (Chapter 19)

"I'm not going to fight you! We don't have the time!" (Chapter 20)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" (Chapter 21)

"Uh, I should say something, but just for calling Tyler a dime-store Hyde I'll let you have a pass." (Chapter 22)

"Wednesday and I are keeping our names because our dimension was the one originally visited by the others... Pure convenience but it was all by mutual agreement between all parties." (Chapter 23)

"What happened to my local counterpart?" (Chapter 24)

"God, it's a little trippy to think of myself as dead." (Chapter 25)

"Principal Weems! Or maybe I should say director... uh... because of the... Yeah, I'd better shut up." (Chapter 26)

"Uh... yeah, it's something I usually do, Wednesday. You used to love to complain about it." (Chapter 27)

"For your own sake, you'd better..." (Chapter 28)

"They will have no hesitation in killing any of you." (Chapter 29)

"You're going...to pay...for..." (Chapter 30)

"Oh... erm... apology accepted my... err... my lord?" (Chapter 33)

"But wait a minute, if they're a confederation of packs how come there's a princess?" (Chapter 34)

"I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with your last name. It's just that... well, in my reality a counterpart of you is one of my best friends." (Chapter 35)

"Ok, the doppelgänger thing I can get, but what's with the homunculus?" (Chapter 36)

"And now... now I get this story that I'm some kind of... multiversal warrior who reincarnates, like a cheap copy of Avatar: The Last Airbender!?" (Chapter 37)

"Ah, ah. I already know the electricity trick." (Chapter 38)

"We're going to breach The Bright One's defenses. And we won't use magic to do it. What we need is science. Mad science." (Chapter 39)

"What do you say about finding a way to inter-dimensionally travel to a magically sealed universe to rescue Wednesday and Friday and deal with an army of supernatural monsters?" (Chapter 40)

"Six months, my love. It has taken me six months to be able to come back to you." (Chapter 41)

"It's just that if you leave me stranded in another universe I have a bad habit of trying to find my way back." (Chapter 42)

"Oops, someone's a wee bit cranky." (Chapter 43)

"It's just that… Look at her! We're not even talking about being just a MILF anymore. I'm going to be totes a GILF, for real." (Chapter 44)

“My name… is… Enid Addams.” (Chapter 46)

"Fuck, Weds, getting stabbed by a saber shouldn't feel so good!" (Chapter 47)

"Who are we? Right now and right here, we are the Addams family." (Chapter 48)

"Well...I mean...the truth is...erm...Ireallylikeyourhairandyourloosehairdoesthingstome." (Chapter 49)

"Six months, Weds. I've been six months away from you. The word insatiable doesn't even come close to describing how I feel.” (Chapter 50)

“You know, if you keep calling them that they're going to end up being born with horns and wings.” (Epilogue)

#enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wenclair #wenclair fic #wenclair fanfic #wednesday netflix #wednesday #the addams family #wenid #quotes #quote #ao3 link #archive of our own #fanfiction #kooky spooky

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neutron-stars-collision · 5 months

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

#neil tenet #tenet movie #tenet #tenet 2020 #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson imagine #deadlines & commitments

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alteon77 · 1 year

Text

Updated Masterlist of Writing and Art

About the writer/artist: I like to write and paint. My current obsession is Sandman, but I enjoy most fantasy fandoms as well as anime (I think I’m on season seven billion of One Piece right now 🤣). I'm also weird as they come (and awkward, too), so just please ignore my oddball (coughTERRIBLEcough) sense of humor.

On a more personal note, I have PTSD and suffer from severe manic depressive episodes. Writing and art are my most familiar coping mechanisms, and I need them like I need oxygen. Seriously, there were times in my life that knowing I had to finish a story or a piece of art was the only thing stopping me from ending up dead. So, I don't take part in fandom drama. Having my peace and protecting my mental health are very big deals to me, and I won't risk those for anything if I can help it.

As for my writing, it ranges from short one-shots to ridiculously long novel series. I use third person POV (on longer series) as well as second person (on shorter things). I also try to always exclude physical descriptions when writing main character OCs and assign them nicknames to avoid using Y/N. I love to read Y/N fics, but writing them makes me feel like I'm at work. And who actually wants to ever feel like they're at work when they're engaging in a hobby? Definitely not me.

Lastly, there's usually more stuff on my AO3 page than I have listed here, because I forget to post it pretty often. Oops. I'll get around to moving it all over one day. Probably. Maybe.

Feel free to leave an ask if you want or just drop by my DMs. <3

Artwork links are at the bottom of this list, so if you're here for those, that's where they are.

Sandman 'Verse

All the Precious and Fragile Things (so easily do they break)

After banishing his lover from the Dreaming for her betrayal, Morpheus learns that she is pregnant with his child.

And that she’s been captured by a revenge-seeking Alexander Burgess.

What the both of them are unaware of is that this will set in motion a cascade of unfavorable events, causing a chain reaction that threatens the whole of existence itself.

PART I: All of This Past

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

PART II: These Tender, Loving Mercies

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

PART III: When It All Falls Down

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

PART IV: The Dark of War

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Epilogue

Sometimes He's Sweet

Morpheus hates the holidays.

As excited as she seems to experience the mortal holiday, he's… less so. Much less so. With the entire collective unconscious contained within him, this time of year can be wholly overwhelming, a miasma of too much red and green, too much worry, too much loneliness, too much excitement, too many similarly themed dreams, too many similarly themed nightmares, and far far too many holiday songs. It all bleeds out from the collective unconscious into his own mind, sticks there like weeping sap to a tree until he feels half-mad with the unrelenting presence of it, with his inability to get free from its cloying trespass upon his very being.

This is just a little sweet fluff for the holiday season. It takes place between chapters 19 and 20 of "All the Precious and Fragile Things". No spoilers here if you've read that far!

The Dog Debacle (or how best to sneak a dragon into the dreaming)

Morpheus' daughter gets a new dog.

Well..... kind of.

That Familiar Feeling of Family (or how Hob Gadling ended up as an uncle to his stranger's oftentimes feral children)

It's a pretty universally known thing that families are just strange. As Hob is quickly figuring out, however, this little fact is magnified by AT LEAST a billion when the family in question is Endless.

(A lighthearted story in which Hob Gadling finds out his stranger has married, makes friends with a homicidal maniac/ruler, and manages to become an exemplary uncle to a pack of magically mischievous children. Really, now all he has to do is convince everyone to stop calling his and Dream's weekly meetups "playdates", and then his life would be practically perfect.)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Maker, the Muse, and the Sundered Song

In his temple, what remains of Orpheus waits in trepidation. Something is changing. Something that he knows might alter the very fabric of the world as he understands it.

Finally freed from captivity, Calliope struggles to make any meaningful changes to the laws that saw her bound and taken in the first place. When the strange woman appears on Mount Parnassus and offers help, Calliope knows she would be a fool not to accept it. Even if she thinks that she's being lied to.

Meanwhile in the peace of the Dreaming, Morpheus grapples with guilt over his son's fate. As he basks in the love of his new children, he can't help but to regret his own failings where Orpheus is concerned.

And as for May, she's really just got a job to do. And her own traumatic issues to deal with. And if it's all hella awkward because she's having to work alongside her husband's ex-wife, she'll see it done anyway. There's even the small possibility that she might eventually admit to Calliope the truth about her identity. That is if she can ever actually work up the courage to say it aloud.

Chapter 1

Nothing in This Closet but Boots and a Boy

Morpheus is wildly protective of his daughter.

That's probably bad for the boy in said daughter's closet.

AU's and Other Stuff in the Sandman 'Verse

Of Exes, Hellhounds, and Waffle Fries

Morpheus shows up to rescue the woman he probably loves (though he won't admit it) from hellhounds and ends up getting roped into helping with her family. This is one of those extras that doesn't fit into the main story, but it's fun, so I'm posting it.

The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications

It's a tale as old as time.

Two idiots fall in love. Two idiots fall out of love.

Neither one of them is expecting a baby to come along and derail their unhappily ever after.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Original Fanart

I like to play around with different styles and to try new things with my artwork. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm still learning, and I am so far from being a professional that it's laughable. But I only post things that I think look decent or that I think others might enjoy.

The Lover's Argument (Morpheus x oc)

Oneiros (Morpheus in Grecian garb)

Because I could not stop for Death, she kindly stopped for me... (Regency era Dream and Death)

#sandman fic #morpheus x oc #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction #sandman fanfiction #sandman oc #dream of the endless #dad!morpheus #dragons in the dreaming #preciousfragilethings #PFT #bbhap #fanart #fan art #alteon77 fan art

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xxnghtclls · 9 months

Text

Permission

Chapter 43

(Chapter 42; Chapter 44)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Atonement

Sukuna’s is voice dark, but calm, echoing quietly through the whole hall, before a silent gasp is heard. Your eyes widen in shock, as you hear her name crawl over his lips for the first time.

Sayako.

“Get back on your feet.” he continues, before you hear the Bitch shift.

He remembers.

You blink and your eyes jump to her, as she stands up and rises into your vision from his right side. Sukuna’s stare is still lingering on you, his eyes carving themselves into you, as he watches your reaction. Sayako’s eyes are opened wide and glassy, as she’s taking a step in front of Sukuna, shocked, just like you. Not daring to look at her King, she looks into your face instead. After a second, her eyes drop down, noticing the kimono you’re wearing. Her breath hitches at the sight and her features are twitching in anger or fear.

You don’t know which it is.

And you just keep staring at her, the woman, who’s been tormenting you since the day you’ve arrived here. Not a hint of mercy in your eyes, as you stare into her soul.

Her heart must be racing, you think and you hope, that he uses her name only to mock her, not because he cares. Sayako lowers her gaze and turns to him.

And you look back at Sukuna, clenching your jaw and flaring your eyes, quietly urging him to go on. He flares his eyes back at you, a silent acknowledgement, before he blinks and turns to her.

“My King...” she starts quietly and without permission, raises her gaze to look at him, her eyes seeking help in his.

And Sukuna just smirks at her. Her lips are trembling, searching for words, while all of his four eyes keep staring, keep boring into her being, as if he’s just going to watch her crumble under the pressure of his gaze, before he squints his eyes at her and speaks, tilting his head.

“Now-”

“...remembers my name?” she blurts out, interrupting him, disrespectful as ever. Her eyes quickly jump back and forth between his, her mind seeming to be completely lost in the fact that she heard her name passing his lips.

Brat.

Sukuna just huffs mockingly her, his smirk just grows at her disrespectful interruption, but you notice that he’s scratching the armrest with his left upper hand. The colour recedes from her face as she hears his nails.

“My Ki-“

“I’ve arranged this public hearing to voice a concern.” he interrupts her in a plummy voice, while he leans back into his seat and focuses on his bottom right hand. Casually fidgeting with his nails, he’s pouting his mouth, while waiting for a reaction from her. You notice her shivering, the colour comes back into her face, as she looks back at you, frowning her brows and clenching her lips like a small child.

She’s pissed.

“Is it my King’s concern or hers?” she asks arrogantly, suddenly raising her voice and he stops his motions with his nails, looking back at her sternly.

“I think you know, what the concern is about.” he speaks dangerously low.

Relief spreads in your gut, as you hear his words, now knowing for sure, that he will keep his word and you see Sayako struggling, as her glassy eyes twitch at you. Her fingers are pressing so tight into a fist, you think she’s going to break her fingers. She blinks and presses her teeth together, every cell in her being screaming “fuck you” at his words and you.

Tap. Tap.

His impatient tapping on the armrest, make her blink, before her eyes jump between Sukuna and you. Hesitating, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, before she speaks.

“I don-“

“Tch- Tch- Tch.” Sukuna clicks his tongue, motioning his left index finger in front of her face. “Blood was shed.” he continues slowly, insistently, raising his brow at her.

Sayako’s expression grows horrified, loosing the attitude from before. She knows what he’s capable of, just never thought it would affect her, no matter how bratty she is. Because she’s a prize. His favourite.

Not anymore.

“Are you aware of this common practise to atone for an offense you commited against someone else?”

His questioning tone has her clenching her jaw, turning her mouth into a frown. Looking back to Sukuna, you notice how his bottom pair of eyes focus on her hands. She doesn’t answer.

“So?” Sukuna asks after a moment, making her blink.

“I-“ her lips tremble, as she starts searching for words, but Sukuna interrupts her another time.

“Which hand do you use for butchering?” he asks, as he reaches out his upper left hand and gently takes her right hand into his, guiding it up, mustering her fingers. “This one, isn`t it?”

You keep watching her, watch how her breath increases, how the stress grows inside her stomach like a vine, branches and roots moving into every corner of her insides, grabbing, poking, scratching. How they reach up into her throat and wrap themselves around her vocal cords, making her unable to speak.

Shocked.

“Mh?” he asks for confirmation, cocking his eyebrow at her. She swallows, before she nods. Quickly.

“Where’s that bratty little mouth, Sayako?” Sukuna smirks playfully. “Use it.” “Y-Yes, my King.” her voice suddenly trembling.

She’s scared.

So scared.

And you’re immersed in her fear, swallowing every bitter drop of empathy you might feel for her, swallowing every sour drop of jealousy you might feel for your Love remembering and using her name. Touching her without your order or permission. This is not the moment for those type of feelings. Not after what she’s done to you. Over and over again. You‘re just here to watch and stare and drown in her terrified features, that your King tickles out of her being.

And so far, you love it. Love how your King, your Love, plays this out for you. How he scares and torments her, without even physically hurting her. Not a wrinkle stirs in your face, imagining the sheer panic she must feel, not knowing what’s next, only knowing that she’s the center of attention.

Sukuna is mustering her hand, his huge fingers poke at the base of every of her fingers, before he stops as her pinky finger, pushing against it, making it stand up.

“This one.” he starts, raising his gaze at her. “Bite it off.”

Your heartbeat quickens at his demand and a shiver runs down your spine. Sayako’s eyes widen in horror and her lips start to tremble. A smirk pushes against the corner of your lips, but you fight to suppress it. Sukuna lets go of her hand and leans his head back on his fist, waiting for her to do as he said.

Badum.Badum.Badum.

She hesitates, stares at her finger in front of her face, as a tear slowly, but surely rolls down her cheek.

Silence.

She keeps staring and staring, biting down a panic attack, as her eyes grow wetter and wetter.

“It’s easy.” he comments through his teeth, almost as if he wants to motivate her.

She keeps hesitating. Sniffs. Another moment passes and Sukuna starts tapping on his armrest again.

Tap. Tap.

It gets louder, every time.

Hurts even more in your ear. Every. Time.

“Or do you want to lose your hand? Or perhaps your foot?” Sukuna mumbles, rather annoyed now.

“Her right foot.” you interrupt quietly, immersed in her terrified features, making Sukuna and Sayako look at you. “It was your right foot wasn’t it?”

The foot that stomped me.

Made me bleed.

“Fuck you!” she shouts in your face, bursting out of her quiet, struggling demeanour.

Flick!

Sukuna wordlessly swings his bottom right index finger, sending a cut across the hand she’s been holding up. In the split of a second, drops of blood form at the base of her fingers. Drops growing thicker and thicker, start to connect and flow, start to drip and drip down her hand. The cut so deep, the blood keeps flowing and crawling, making her scream in shock and pain. In the corner of your eyes, you notice, that some maids start to look up to the throne, some hide their eyes and ears behind their hands, not being able to bear it anymore.

And Sukuna allows it. Wants them to witness.

“Even easier now.” he remarks, mixing his calm voice with her screams, before his eyes start glowing and his voice hissing. “You must’ve felt that at your bones.”

Sayako’s hand is shaking, as she struggles to hold it up, staring at the bloodshed. Crying, wailing. Her left hand holds her wrist, struggling to hold up the bleeding hand, while blood keeps flowing and flowing, dripping down crimson stains and tears onto her kimono and feet.

“What about her foot?” you ask quietly, drowning in the sight of her glistening blood. Sukuna just huffs quietly in response, staring at her hand as well.

“Patience.” he mumbles, making you clench your teeth in annoyance at first-

No.

It doesn’t matter.

You love this. Your blood is pumping at the sight.

At the feeling of you standing right next to your King, being dressed like your King. At the feeling of him finally giving you what you wanted to see for so long. The sight of her suffering.

“More.” you whisper, almost being hypnotised by the view of her agonised face and the sound of her dripping blood.

Drip. Drip.

Drop.

She’s crumbling, her mind and soul, fighting every inch in her body to not just flee, to face her King and not just die.

Because everyone in this room knows she would, if she tries. Just die from her fear and a swing of his hand. Probably getting sliced in three, a pretty sight for him.

You feel Sukuna’s stare lingering on you, watching you with wide eyes, as if he wants to curse you even more, wants you to enjoy it even more. Eating up every little reaction he can tickle out of you with the cruel things he has on his mind.

Sayako is panting heavily, still staring at her shaking, bloody hand. Grunting and growling to endure the pain, she looks back at Sukuna, seeing how he stares at you and it makes her clench her jaw so hard, she almost bites out her teeth.

So much pain. Physically and mentally.

The sheer anger she feels for you is painted into her distorted face. Hatred and disdain. You can almost feel it clawing into your throat.

“Bite it off.” Sukuna orders a second time, as he turns back to her, his voice dark and sinister now.

And your lip twitches in excitement, as you squint your eyes, hoping your stare is going to pressure her even more.

Bite it off!

Badum.Badum.Badum.

“Three seconds.” Sukuna continues, tapping once on his armrest with a single nail.

Tap.

One.

Tap.

Two.

“Do it!” you whisper.

Tap.

And suddenly she cries out loudly, bracing herself, before she shoves the finger into her mouth. Teeth bite down on the wounded limb and blood smears onto her whole face. She keeps growling and crying, enduring the excruciating pain she must feel while her teeth cut through her flesh and bone.

Sukuna starts grinning, showing his teeth and his eyes wide open, about to roll back at the bloody, gory scenery, while she’s gnawing and biting on her finger.

And you keep staring too, your heart pounds so heavily against your ribcage, this horrible, amazing sight of having the Bitch at the lowest you’ve ever seen her be.

Sayako starts crying, tears paint trails into the blood of her face, as she keeps struggling to find the courage to bite through the bone.

Clack!

Sukuna bites down loudly on his teeth, making you and her flinch.

And it makes him giggle. This sadistic giggle that sends another shiver down your spine. You look over to him, see that his eyes have now rolled back.

“Keep going.” he growls loudly, smirking so widely.

White, empty eyes now staring at the brutality in front of you. Bloodlust gurgling up in his chest and mind, as he shifts amused in his seat. Giggling and chuckling.

“Easy. Like a carrot.” he hisses, his grin so wide and terrifying, as he leans forward.

Demonic.

And seeing him like this... it turns you on. In such a fucked up way.

The lips between your thighs are tingling, seeing those white eyes, this sadistic grin on his lips. Those eyes he showed you shortly before he kissed you on the battlefield. When he fucked you so hard and good while Akiko watched, while he sent you into sweet nirvana and back.

I love you.

Sukuna’s lips twitch and Sayako‘s eyes scream horrified into his demonic ones, making you wonder if she’s ever seen him like this before. Wonder, if she’s gonna crumble. But she doesn’t. She gnaws and chews and cries and...

crack.

Her bone breaks between her teeth and your heart is pounding in your throat, staring at her with wide eyes. Sukuna gasps proudly, huffing loudly, before he starts chuckling, laughing.

“Keh Keh Keh Keh!”

The adrenaline pumping in your veins make you feel more numb and numb with every second passing by. You don’t know how and what to feel. There’s something boiling in you, something between joy and shock and diabolical intent.

“There we go.” he growls, after he calmed down, blinking his red orbs back into vision, as the shaking Sayako lets the finger fall into her left hand. Strings of spit and blood are connecting the finger to her mouth. Shivering and trembling, she looks back to Sukuna. Oh, if her eyes could kill.

I bet she’d kill the both of us.

Sukuna’s right upper hand shoots forward and grabs her harshly by her chin, yanking her closer to him.

So close. Only a few inches between their faces.

His gaze on her grows softer, almost proud at what and how well she did it. She calms down, relaxes in his hold, as if his gentle expression is enough to cure her of any pain she feels.

And you know, you know exactly, that it’s true. This grip he has on your soul. So powerful and menacingly soothing.

Divine.

My Love.

“Now. A gift is a gift, isn’t it?” he coos into her tired face.

“Y-Yes, my King.” she responds, too exhausted to fight back in any way.

He pats on her cheek twice, before letting her go. With swollen eyes, she turns to you. Full of blood and spit and hurt and anger. Her lips press together, trembling, fighting the tears, before she holds out her hand, offering you her finger.

And you watch how it lays on her bloody skin. This small, curled up finger, the crimson flesh being ripped at the bottom, the bone being broken, sticking out.

I don’t want it.

You watch with disgust, pondering and after a moment, you look back into her eyes with a monotonous expression.

She can stick it up her-

“Eat it.”

“Bitch!” she spits back at you, with such force, some blood drops land on your cheek.

“Tch. Tch. Tch.” Sukuna clicks his tongue again, shaking his head in the corner of your eyes and you don’t know which one of you he rebukes.

And you don’t want to know, you just want her to eat it. Her tiny, useless finger. So you keep staring. Pierce your eyes right through her being and soul.

And she stares back.

If I’m stepping out of my line, so be it.

“My King, I apologise. Please.” Sayako turns to Sukuna, pleading with a jittering, exhausted voice.

You notice Sukuna raising his head, moving his upper left hand to his face. Peeking at him, you see him scratching his chin, pouting. He’s taking his time, staring at the hand and the finger, that Sayako is still holding out for you, before his eyes jump between her and you.

And then they stop.

On you.

Crimson fire in his eyes burns through your soul, as he keeps pondering.

And you raise your chin and squint your eyes at him.

Stand proud.

Sukuna’s eyes keep lingering and lingering, until the flame in them start to engulf you, wrapping you in his warmth and...

longing.

Heartache.

“Do it.” he whispers, before he turns back to Sayako.

And your heart skips a beat. Excitement spreads in your body, as he supports your wish and you look back to her as well. As if her life crumbles in front of her very eyes, as if the last breath slips out of her lungs, her expression turns empty.

And she looks back at Sukuna. So heartbroken and sad. So betrayed and used. However, she still can’t seem to hate him. She looks like she wishes to hate him, wishes she wouldn’t care.

But she does. For her King, her God, she does.

And you know it’s the truth, that she misses him. So much. Because you would feel like her. Exactly. Like. Her.

Another bitter drop of empathy is swallowed by your throat, as you keep watching how she musters her hand, looking at the finger like a life- and mindless slave. Sukuna’s eyes are looking at her intently, as she picks up the finger and opens her mouth.

Your King chuckles quietly, as Sayako bites into the bottom part of her finger, the flesh seems chewy, blood is being pressed out of it. You focus on how the flesh squeezes between her teeth, before you quickly peek to Sukuna. He notices and turns to you, eyes you up and down with half lidded eyes, scraping his teeth against each other, enjoying how you keep being immersed by what’s happening. Turning back to Sayako and watching the blood being squeezed out of the finger, he swallows, looking...

hungry?

Moaning in agony, Sayako manages to rip off a piece of her own flesh. Sukuna and you watch and watch, every second of her movement pushing the adrenaline in your blood, as she starts to bite and chew. Drops of fresh blood start to pool at the corner of her mouth.

“Such a good girl.” he praises her, with such a sweet, sweet voice, it makes her snap back into reality. Makes her snap back into the hatred she feels for you, for putting you into this position. The position of being forced into cannibalism, forced to eat her own flesh, instead of being touched by her King. The touch she’s been longing for, since he claimed you.

Life comes back into her eyes and she frowns at you. Hating you, opens her mouth to say something, before she suddenly starts to cough, as if she had choked on a drop of spit or blood or flesh. Not moving a muscle, you just stare and stare.

Is she gonna...?

Your eyes widen, thrilled, as she bends and coughs in agony, letting go of the gnawed finger. Sukuna chuckles amused, as he catches it midair, grinning widely, before he casually bites off the upper half of it.

Like an apple.

Crack!

The scrunching sound of his teeth bursting through the bone mixes with the sound of her coughs and retches, as she spits out blood and shreds of her flesh.

“There, there!” Sukuna giggles with his mouth full, patting her on her back, making her slowly calm down, instead of choking to death.

Your heart sinks and you throw Sukuna an unamused side eye. He winks at you, before he gathers the chewed mush of her finger in his mouth and spits it on her right foot. The sight of the bloody, chunky pool of bones and flesh and spit makes you want to gag.

Disgusting.

But you endure it. This is what you wanted, after all.

Sukuna throws away the remaining part of the finger. You turn and watch how it falls down into the abyss, behind the hill of his throne. Sayako just watches, breathing heavily, exhausted and broken. You turn back to her and your eyes meet.

A pause.

Her lip twitches, as if it wants to curl into the hint of a proud smile. Proud, that she kept standing in front of her King. Proud, that she didn’t crumble in front of you. Still standing in front of the woman, who dared to torment her like no one else before.

You.

Before you can make out a definite smile on her lips, Sukuna gently takes her chin back into his upper right hand.

“Now, you’ll need your feet.” he coos, while circling smooth circles on her bloody skin. “Walk down these stairs.“ he orders, before leaning closer. “And you won’t walk them back up.”

Your breath hitches and you press your thighs together at his words. The way he said them, as he raised his eyebrow at her, making her eyes widen. Her heart visibly fills with sadness, her mind must be racing at his words.

And your heart keeps skipping beats.

It’s my place now. Next to him.

Mine alone.

Badum.Badum.Badum.

“I-“ she starts, but interrupts herself, before she quietly continues, while looking at him, still with devotion in her tired eyes. “Understood, my King.”

Her voice gives in.

Anything for her King. As long as she lives.

“Good.” he smiles back at her, before letting her go.

Sayako throws you a last hateful glance, before she turns on her heels and carefully, slowly, starts to walk down those stairs. Many maids are watching her go down, step by step. Eyes on her like they were lingering on you so many times before.

And you watch, from up above, with your head held high, how she descends further and further.

Into the abyss beneath your throne.

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