#I had a part-time job at a movie theater that I had to give up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kianely · 9 months

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”LORD KNOWS, IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Leon saves you from the unlucky predicament you found yourself in when you decided to take a rewarding vacation overseas. He ends up liking you a little too much though, and not just in a platonic way. And naturally, you’re pretty love struck by him too.

iii. CONTENT — Mostly fluff, mentions of trauma (from what the reader saw while being rescued), mentions of Leon’s survival guilt, Leon’s smitten with you, fluff, tension and kissing at end, banter, he gives you a flip phone, work gathering, motorcycle ride, he finally gets a vacation, inaccurate depictions of the government, coercion to work for the government, RE4 Leon

iv. WC — 7.2k

You knew a lot. Too much. All because you decided to go abroad as a reward for finally getting a white-collar job. Your countless years spent in post-secondary education whilst having a part-time job paid off, and before you started your new job, you decided to indulge in a trip overseas.

You never expected to get lost during one of the tours, much less to find yourself stumbling across what seemed to be a ghost town that had a few…peculiar citizens. They told you to get lost when you asked for directions, and the one time you found a map plastered on a wall, it was an outdated one that didn’t even show the modern roads, no use in that.

That’s what led to your current situation. Somehow, you were lucky enough to make it out of there with the help of a particular someone. You never expected to board a helicopter in your life, you felt your stomach churn as you glanced out the window and reflected on what you had just been through.

All the thoughts revolving in that mind of yours were the freakish events and sights you had been an unwilling witness to. Ones that would undoubtedly throw you right into therapy, and have you tossing and turning in your bed at night like a scared child with a night light thinking a monster would seep out from their closet or underneath their bed. You would never set foot into a movie theater to watch a well-done horror movie ever again, all the things you had seen in the last couple of days topped all of that.

You wished you could wash and reset your eyes after all the mutated and downright monstrous creatures that flashed through your brain now and again. Hell, you now believed that every single urban myth or legend was a complete possibility, probably lurking out there somewhere. Every moving object just made your heart drop like from when limbs had reached out to try and grab or swing at you. You wanted to curl up into a little ball and be cradled by a parental figure, to be coddled and rocked back and forth until you fell asleep with no worries on your mind.

The murky fluids carried by the bodies of water in underground tunnels that were potent with diseases and infections were the same ones that had dried up on your once damp and soaked pants. You were damn lucky you hadn’t gotten an open wound anywhere under your upper thighs, how horrible would it be for you to escape and end up dying a day later from an infection?

The heavy gunfire and explosives left your ears physically hurting, you hoped the lingering buzzing noise would eventually leave. The only soothing sound you would hear throughout your utterly traumatic experience was the voice of a certain strong agent urging you to “hurry up” and “stay close behind him.” The same one that reassured you and checked up on you whenever the two of you got a chance to relax and take a breath, he would look you in the eyes and tell you that it was all going to be okay. And you believed him.

“You doing alright?” Ah, there was that familiar voice.

Your internal response? Absolutely not. But then again, you didn’t have the heart to tell the source of the question the truth. After all, Leon had been protecting you and had even taught you the basics of self-defense and combat moves for extra measure. All out of his own generosity, too. You had picked up on why he was sent to the site. You weren’t a priority to his job, not at all. Yet, he had gone through hell just to make sure you got out alive.

So, you resorted to masking your response with some sarcasm, by now, you knew he’d appreciate it. It felt like you had known him forever. “Peachy. I don’t think I’ve ever been better, you?”

You were still in denial, accepting everything would be too hard right now and you’d crumble on the spot. You were trying to think of anything else: your first meal after all this, maybe you’d need to buy new clothes now so a fun shopping trip was in order, Leon’s perfect face — no, not that.

Leon scoffed — the corner of his lips tugged up in response to your sarcasm. “It’s okay to tell the truth, y’know. You went through a hell of a lot more than you should’ve had to. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m fine,” you insisted, slumping against your seat and scratching the nape of your neck. Your mind was all over the place, you wouldn’t even be able to articulate all your worries without stumbling over your words. “I made it out without any major injuries, thanks to you.”

The only injury you had gotten were some cuts on the palms of your hands from all the times you had toppled down onto the earthy ground or wooden floors and had to use your hands to catch yourself and dodge…whatever the hell was chasing after you. The damn bastard didn’t even have a name. Your back wasn’t doing so well either, you definitely wouldn’t be able to reach your toes or stretch properly for a good while.

Leon sighed at your stubbornness, finding himself in you, he understood you better than most people could. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me for that. You did good and made it out alive. Plus…you did well at defending yourself, that leg strength of yours is no joke.”

His dazzling toothy smile stirred butterflies in your stomach. It felt genuine, a far cry from the close-mouthed smiles he had cast your way before. You wondered how he could muster up such a smile with that job of his.

You couldn’t offer anything more than an appreciative smile of your own as you looked down towards your lap, murmuring a small, “Guess so.” His praise made you feel a little light-headed, or maybe it was the gentleness within his gaze that had that effect.

He would’ve liked to hear those same words he just told you back during the incident of 1998, maybe even a small pat on the back accompanied by a “you did well, rookie.”

His missions involved so many casualties that it pained him, he had never grown desensitized to it despite his long years in the field. He’s too human for that, the angel perked on his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to be numb to it.

But you.

He managed to save you. And that was a couple fewer pounds that could’ve been slumped onto his shoulders — the ones that threatened to snap and give out on him from the years of massive and overwhelming guilt of everyone he had watched die. It didn’t matter that the two of you were essentially strangers, it would’ve crushed him if you had died on his watch. Through the short time you guys had been together, he had learned a lot about you.

Plus, he liked you. Romantically, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the meek and weak type. No. He liked mature people, those who could challenge his witty banter, who wouldn’t be clingy, and who could understand his baggage. You. You had spunk, the same kind he found himself yearning for in a companion when he went back to an empty home. He was fond of you, it made him wonder if he would be able to have you in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, whatever God was out there would grant him some mercy and give him what he wanted for once.

The helicopter had landed, and your leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiousness. Where the hell were you even at? You had nothing, not an ounce of technology or identification on you aside from your DNA and fingerprints.

Leon was feeling tense too, not for the unknowns but because he knew. He’d been forced to kiss the government’s ass and he was familiar with their way of thinking, they’d likely interrogate you, and if you had some use for them then they’d find a way to keep you around. He felt some solace in knowing that you didn’t display the same physical capabilities that he did, otherwise, they would snatch you up, train you into a machine, and send you out into the field in a couple of years if you made the cut.

Leon was the first to get out of the helicopter, extending his arm and offering his hand to help you. He knew you were feeling uneasy, he didn’t plan on leaving you alone to your thoughts. “Was this your first time on a helicopter?”

“Yeah, first time.” You gladly accepted his assistance, feeling the calluses on his skin as you cautiously got out. “Not how I imagined it to be like, but…”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you took it like a champ, no motion sickness or anything.”

“You must be used to flying all the time, right?”

Leon nodded, letting out a sigh before sharing his thoughts on the topic. He figured some honesty could go a long way. “I’m actually kind of sick of flying — planes, helicopters, everything. But if I ever get a vacation? I’m leaving behind a cloud of dust and making a beeline for Italy.”

“Italy, huh?” You made a mental note of that, for future reference. You just hoped there would be a way to keep in contact with him after everything was said and done.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go. Never have the time though.”

There was only so much conversation that could be held until you curiously took a look at your surroundings. You took a breath, feeling a bit daunted by some of the important-looking personnel whose eyes were boring into you.

“This place looks…pretty intimidating.”

Leon’s hand hovered over the small of your back so he could keep you close and guide you inside. “You’ll be okay.”

After that, the two of you pretty much got separated. He had to give a full report about the mission, and also explain how he had strung you along. The higher-ups had to run a background check on you and were going to monitor you. But he made you a promise, he’d come to see you when he was allowed to.

Leon always told himself he’d start minding his own damn business. You were well and alive, that should be more than enough for him. He didn’t deserve to indulge in someone who could make his life brighter, that was selfish. But, he so desperately wanted to have you in his life.

Whenever he got attached to someone, it all went south. But, he knew you were alone. He’d been in your situation — alone and with unimaginable baggage, a deadly mix. He needed to do something.

On the other hand, you were taken into questioning about what you had seen, and how the state of the town you had been visiting before everything went to shit. You hated having to talk about it, stammering over your words, and taking long pauses because it was too much. Broke down sobbing after one session. The denial phase progressively diminished, it was painful. They then transferred you to a more isolated area to monitor your physical health. They didn’t give a damn about your actual well-being, even if you had been injured they wouldn’t have tended to you.

You lost track of time, a couple of weeks had gone by.

You were a pitiful sight, all alone in a room with high-quality technology surrounding you — machines monitoring you just in case anything irregular popped up in your health that was connected to the bioweapons you had been exposed to.

But alas, the day finally came, and you could leave. You relished the clean clothes they gave you in place of the gown you had been required to wear for the monitoring. You sat on the twin-sized bed, gaze cast to the floor as you thought about what the future held.

Some gentle knocks on the door made you jump a little, your eyes immediately darting over to see who it was through the glass on the door. Leon. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked concerned, the knit of his brows made that clear.

Mustering up a small and weak smile, you beckoned him to come in. If there was one person that could bring you some solace, it was him. He would’ve come sooner, hell, he would’ve visited you every damn day you were stuck here. But he wasn’t allowed to under strict orders, not until the day you were to be released.

Leon entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bag of takeout in his free hand, holding it up for you to see. “The food here is pretty bland, figured you could use this.”

The sight almost made you groan, anything sounded more appetizing than the soup and packaged food you had been given the past few weeks. “God. Yes. Please.”

He chuckled at your reaction, setting the medium sized drink by your bedside before sitting down next to you. He opened up the bag and then handed you the plastic utensils, napkins, and the container.

“I’m glad you came, I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Leon knew how deafening the silence could be, nothing good came out of being left to your thoughts.

“I owe you a meal someday,” you told him as you began eating. “You have to pick though, I don’t know any of the restaurants around here.”

“I’ll be sure to make a list then. I’m paying though.”

“What? That’s hardly fair.”

“Shh, eat your food.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something under your breath, but you knew he meant well based on the lightheartedness of his voice. So, you complied.

Meanwhile, Leon was mentally brainstorming places he thinks you would like in the area — somewhere pretty, he wanted you to have a good time.

After you had finished, Leon let out a sigh and pulled something out of his pocket. A flip phone. He gave it to you. He wordlessly handed it to you.

Woah. What?

You cast him a curious glance before reaching out for it. “Uh, what’s this?” You knew what it was, but why?

“Well, your phone broke.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I saved my number on it already, so just give me a call if you ever need anything.”

Could a man be more perfect? A flip phone was simple, easy to call and all. He knew that you’d likely get an actual smartphone in a couple of days, but he was worried. He just wanted you to be able to contact him whenever and wherever.

You laughed a little, taking a minute to toy around with the buttons on the flip phone. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much, they’re pretty cheap these days.”

With the topic of technology brought up, you had the chance to ask something you had been mulling over. “So, how come I’ve never seen you on the news before? You’re like a knight or something.”

Leon was mildly amused by the sudden inquiry, humming softly to himself as he stirred up a response.

“Well, I’m not too sure people would believe a headline about half of the things I deal with. It’s pretty much kept undercover.” There was a lot more to it than that, but he kept it simple. “Plus, I’m just doing my job — it’s no biggie.”

“Bummer,” you sighed out, “you’d have tons of fans.” It wasn’t even a stretch. A man as attractive and heroic as him? With the size of his biceps? He’d be trending every other week, and some portion of the population would definitely have posters of him. A bit unfitting considering the contents of his job, but not unlikely.

“Would I? Why’s that?” The concept was foreign to him. Sure, he’d gotten compliments on his looks, but that was about it…nobody actively tried to pursue him. And the couple of times he had tried to ask someone on a dinner date, he got a no. He wasn’t insecure about it, though — the only people he had tried to ask out were people in his line of work, all the baggage made relationships and dating tricky.

His question caught you off guard, you knew the answer but you couldn’t say it out loud. “Well…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze before immediately darting your eyes away. “You know, just…”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His voice was one of humor, spoken through a chuckle — he wanted to know.

You let out a long exhale before recomposing yourself. “You look like you could be the heartthrob of the decade. And your personality isn’t half bad either.”

He was quiet for a moment. Now it was his turn to look away, attention now on his hands as he pretended to pick at some of the calluses. Eventually, he voiced his next question. “Would you be one of my fans?”

You snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah. With pom poms and all, maybe I’d even come up with a cheer or something.”

His lips tugged into a small smirk at that, one that was barely visible — he really liked you. “I’d be sure to take a picture to make it last longer.”

“You wish.”

“A guy can dream.”

The government could have very well sent you on your way out into the world when you essentially had absolutely nothing. But, you had some close ones back in your hometown, so, if you just suddenly vanished and your family panicked when they thought you were returning from a vacation…then that would make some things more difficult. The mystery of how you ended up in DC without any of your belongings would be concerning.

Plus, they looked into your file backgrounds. Intelligent, you had the brains, and now the knowledge of bioweapons. Surely, there’d be good use in keeping you around. Possible training to become a field operations support was in your future. They could kill two birds with one stone: gain another worker, and keep you close to the headquarters just in case you tried to expose what you had seen.

It was easy for them to do through blackmail and threats to hurt your loved ones if you didn’t comply with their orders of living in DC. They made you record some bullshit lie to your family as to why you were here.

They printed out all your personal documents that you had lost so you could get a job nearby and get back on your feet, helped get your credit card replaced, and that was it. Any physical cash you had was gone, but at the very least you did have enough money in your bank account to crash at a motel while you sorted things out.

Bastards, really. Yeah, at least you had necessities now, but it was purely for their own benefit.

The prices for even renting a place in DC were just… jaw-dropping. You’d have to search for a small place, and honestly, a car was the last thing on your mind. Having a roof over your head was the most important part. The good news is that with your resume and educational background, you bagged a job fairly soon — though it was nothing compared to the job you were supposed to have.

It had been months since the whole fiasco. You managed to find a small apartment, nothing fancy of course. That was for the better, having a spacious place all to yourself would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You were still very jittery: jumping whenever there was a knock on your door even when you were anticipating a delivery, needing the television on just for the sake of not being left in silence with your thoughts, and sleeping with all the lights on even if your electricity bill suffered as a result.

You thought you would be able to muster up the courage to go to therapy, but would that even be possible? It’s not like you could truthfully talk about your experiences. Even if you did, there’s no way anyone would believe you. And again, it was too much money.

By now, you had gotten a smartphone. But you never discarded the flip phone that Leon had gifted you. You used it to give him a call on a couple of occasions, but you never kept him for over five minutes, not wanting to disturb him for too long, you knew he was busy. Sometimes he didn’t pick up, but after a couple of days, he would return the call and tell you what had kept him from doing so: another assignment, long meetings, all that jazz. Even so, those calls always left you smiling for hours afterward.

Unbeknownst to you, the man on the other side of the phone was equally as thrilled. His pearly whites were always on display whenever you called him. Whenever he got back from work, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails. No matter how battered and sore his body was, your voice alone managed to make him feel all better.

The days blended in together, and oftentimes you found yourself asking what or who was your motivation to keep up with this routine. The only answer that immediately came to mind aside from your loved ones was him. Leon.

Washing the dishes? Hm, you wonder what kind of food Leon eats. Watching TV? Leon mentioned he liked watching movies when he had free time. Struggling with opening a stubborn jar? Leon could definitely open this. Typing a text message? Would Leon use emojis? Abbreviations? Maybe he was one of those people who texted slow as hell and only used their index finger for each individual letter. You should know by now, but the two of you only ever called, and never texted.

The point is, he was flooding your thoughts.

In your mind, you justified it by thinking the only reason you wanted him in your life was to repay him for all the help he had been. But, that was far from the truth. Not when the memory of him flashing you a smile was enough to make your heart do tiny flips or the way his voice was so deeply engraved in your brain that you longed to hear it all the time. And the way you started spending more time on your appearance, just in case you happened to bump into him somewhere — slim chances, but you’d take them.

And naturally, you knew you would feel safe and content with him keeping you company. What you would give to roll your eyes and scoff at one of his puns or lame movie references, or to maybe catch the glimmer of endearment in his gaze whenever it shifted to you.

Would you ever be able to love a man who didn’t understand what you had gone through to a degree?

The sensation of your smartphone suddenly vibrating in your pocket made you flinch and snap out of your thoughts — a frown tugging on your lips as you scrambled to pull it out and answer.

Oh boy, your time at the headquarters wasn't short-lived. And that job of yours? You’d have to resign soon. Seems like the plan to train you to become a field operations support was coming up. Your presence had been requested at a work gathering, collaboration and teamwork skills were essential. So with this event, trainees and recruits could converse with those who were more experienced, to break the ice a little bit. So you convinced yourself you had to go.

Here you were a week later — sitting inside a fancy looking room, moving your now empty cup around. You had been here for thirty minutes and you weren’t sure how much more small talk you could handle. If you were asked the question, ‘So, how’d you land this position?’ one more time, you’d feel physically ill.

Getting ready for the gathering had driven you insane, you took an entire two hours to get ready, mostly because you kept pacing in front of your closet, indecisive about what to wear. Assuming Leon was going to be there, this would be his first time seeing you in actual clothing that aligned with your fashion style, enough said.

You stood up, ready to go outside for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air from this otherwise suffocating environment. But as you looked towards the door, a certain man caught your attention.

There he was. Leon Kennedy in all his glory. When was the last time you saw him in person? A few months. So, why did it feel like you were seeing him for the first time again? You were blown away by his beauty.

He was talking to a taller man who was pretty hunky and had the body of an agent. You assumed they were good buds, seeing the way they patted each other and seemed to be having an interesting conversation rather than a forced one.

You had no idea how long you stood there, but it felt like only a couple of seconds since you were busy admiring him. Maybe he felt your eyes on him, because he eventually looked over directly at you and then dismissed himself from his friend.

Leon almost looked like a puppy as he made his way over to you, his eye-lit gaze set on you despite the plethora of other people he knew in the room. With a couple excuse me’s, he finally reached you.

You had a lot of time to think of a way to greet him, and yet your mind turned to mush the second he was near you. A simple hi, hey, what’s up? No, that wouldn’t suffice. It would feel forced.

“No offense, but this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.” You eventually told him, a sly smile forming on your face.

He placed a hand over his chest and scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Like a dagger to my heart.” After a shared chuckle between the two of you, he gave you a genuine answer. “It’s nice sometimes, gives me a chance to catch up with some people and nurse a drink. But generally? No, not really my scene.”

Before you could say anything in response, he gestured towards you with his hand. “You look stunning.”

“I’d hope so. Though, I think anything is a step up from what I was wearing when you met me.”

“Oh c’mon. You pulled off the look.”

How? He had witnessed you wearing dirty and muddy clothes with scrapes all over. You had definitely not been in the most presentable state. Though to be fair, he had been in the same boat — he did all the combat, so he ended up with ruined clothes and blood all over. Then again, his pretty face and killer body blinded you from those details.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just that charming,” You tried to come across as confident, but the giddy grin on your face in response to his compliment gave away just how much his words affected you.

Cute. Did he make you happy? Years of unsuccessful romance led him to believe that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a natural response to being complimented. But…there was a hopeful voice in his head that said otherwise. No no no, he was being silly. He saved you, he shouldn’t even be thinking about asking you to dinner. Shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look sitting across the table from him, with a glass of champagne in your hand and that perfect smile plastered on your face from the conversation at hand. He wanted to know you. And he knew he was a goner when he woke up one morning upset because he felt like something was missing — you in his arms, curled up against him.

“So, you’re a trainee now?” Leon knew you were going to be here, it was the reason he had unconsciously put more effort into his appearance.

“Yeah, it’s surreal to think about…it sounds stressful.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault. Things could be worse, I’m just glad I’m back on my feet.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Mhm. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to talk to you over your earpiece one day.”

Leon almost froze at that. The thought was appealing. Maybe he should feel selfish for thinking of this in a positive manner when the government had been responsible for the switch up in your life. Even so, he knew that his spirit would be boosted if he heard your voice giving him intel and instructions. Plus, how come you didn’t seem so upset over that?

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of my voice after all those voicemails I’ve left you.”

Ah, the same ones he replayed over and over when he couldn’t sleep. The same ones that managed to keep his post-mission loneliness at bay. The same ones that prevented him from getting a bottle of beer from his fridge and spiraling.

“I could never.” The nearly whispered answer gave away just how sincere he was. Not a quip, not even a tug of his lips.

It made your breath hitch, those three words made you melt like an ice cream left out on a hot summer day. How was it that everything blurred out except for him? The nearby chit-chatter, the blur of people moving around in the background, the clinking of plates and glasses — nothing mattered, nothing took your attention from him.

“You sound pretty confident in your answer.”

“I am.”

“How come?”

Would it scare you if he chose to be sincere? “It’s just nice hearing your voice, y’know, I don’t get many phone calls.”

No, he had to give you more, that sounded too casual. “And uh, they help me…make me feel like I’m not completely alone or lost in this world.”

“I’ll be sure to keep calling you, then.” You were being honest.

He became aware of the semi awkward conversation he had caused, Leon cleared his throat and gestured to the table with drinks. “Shall we?”

Mostly everyone had left after two hours, the only vehicle left in the parking lot was Leon’s bike. You got here through public transportation, you really had to get a car eventually. But, it was hard with your financial situation.

You let out a low whistle when you caught sight of his bike, it suited him, honestly. He took good care of it. “Sweet ride.”

It was his pride and joy, one of his only belongings that gave him a thrill and an escape. And he really wouldn’t mind letting you into that part of his life.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He could give you a ride if you were willing. He kept two helmets anyway, an older one just for nostalgia, and then a newer one. “Ever ridden one?”

“No way,” you laugh, you’re intrigued though. You meet his gaze and see that he’s smiling — and you manage to piece together what he’s offering. “No way.” You repeat incredulously as if asking: Seriously!? You’d let me?

“Way.”

He walked over to his bike and patted one of the helmets. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“What if I fall off?”

“I won’t let you fall off.”

Oh, what the hell? After all Leon has done for you, you trusted him with your life. You approached him, catching onto the subtle flame in his eyes. “Fine, I’m up for it.”

He knew the nearby layout of the area pretty well, so when you told him your address, he knew what route to take.

“Hold still.” Lifting the helmet, he made sure to put it snugly onto you, buckling the chin strap so it wouldn’t fly off or be loose. It made you feel some kind of way. He was so close. If you didn’t have the helmet as a barrier, you’d be tempted to kiss him.

He took a step back to look at you, unable to resist from mumbling out a small ‘cute’ under his breath. Somehow, you hadn’t heard.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. Why did his voice sound raspy all of a sudden? Leon then worked on putting a helmet on himself. Your throat felt dry as you idly stood by and watched, he always looked good…but the sight of him with a helmet on was something you could get used to. With his handsome face now hidden, your attention was drawn more to his body, you tried to not stare at the way his shirt fit tightly against his muscles. Then you realized your eyes weren’t all that visible due to the helmet and dark night. So…you stared.

He taught you how to mount and dismount the bike, he prefers to get on first and for passengers to get on afterward, and for you to dismount the bike before he did. Naturally, he also went over some of the rules for passengers, when to lean, to be cautious of stops, etc. He just wanted both of you to be on the same page. With some trial, error, and a couple of laughs over it, you eventually managed to get the hang of it. So here you were now, all ready to go.

“Hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to fall off or anything.” By now, he knows you’re used to his joking.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the sliver of amusement that slipped into your voice. “Very reassuring, Kennedy.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, you could feel all the muscle he had gained throughout his years of nonstop physical activity.

Leon was smiling underneath his helmet, feeling your body warmth against him. He never really thought he’d be able to have someone else on his motorcycle, especially not someone he had grown to adore so much. The feeling of your arms around him put his heart at ease. “Okay, here goes. Remember, if anything happens just tap me twice.”

At first, it was pretty steady — merely navigating out of the parking space and into the streets, stopping at some red lights, getting a kick out of the way Leon purposely revved the engine for you to hear, and the way you could feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed. It was a soothing pattern, one you’d like to feel more often, perhaps with your head resting comfortably against his stomach.

Entering the ramp to the freeway was an entirely different experience, the breeze suddenly increased tenfold as Leon sped up now that the speed limit was higher.

It felt exhilarating — a stark contrast to how you had felt when you were cooped up all alone in your apartment with nothing but silence. The loud engine of the bike roaring through the freeway drowned out any doubts or worries before they even had the chance to surface to your consciousness. It was so fast that the lights of the cars almost turned into a blur, but the nighttime made it seem so pretty. It felt good.

Honestly, it felt like you were there for hours when that was far from the true reality of a short five minute ride, your heartbeat slowed back down along with the speed of the bike as Leon cautiously drove in the lonely and dimly lit streets of your neighborhood, relying on your input to reach the specific building that had your apartment in it.

Once he finally parked, you got the chance to exhale properly — having been so caught up in the pretty night scenery and the fact you had just gotten a ride from none other than Leon S. Kennedy. You were reluctant to unwrap yourself from him but did so anyway. “Woah,” was all you could say.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Much better than the bus I take, that’s for sure. Life changing.”

With the short lessons you had gone over, you managed to dismount his bike, maybe checking him out a little as he then followed to do the same. He took his gloves off before making his way to you and working on taking your helmet off. The entirety of the situation felt oddly intimate, like a daily interaction a couple would partake in.

“You have a lot of trust in me,” he muttered that comment under his breath as if it was meant for the breeze to sweep away like a leaf. But you heard it anyway.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the guy who quite literally saved my life.”

He merely chuckled, now taking off his helmet. Leon didn’t want to delve into that topic. In his mind, he didn’t necessarily ‘save’ you, he didn’t want to take credit for your own mental and physical strength. The way you were so happy despite everything that had occurred…he admired you for it. He didn’t want you to spiral into the same loneliness and self-guilt that he had, he swore he wouldn’t let you. God, how he wishes he had met you sooner. Late was better than never, though.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” Dork. He didn’t even know which door was yours. It was sweet though, you led the way inside and up an elevator to your floor. Leon committed the way to memory, just in case he ever swung by in the future. He took a look around, making sure everything looked clean and safe, just a habit of his after his years in the force. It looked pretty cozy though, the halls were illuminated well, and everything was in great condition. Some of his worries were eased.

“Thanks for the ride, I had a lot of fun.” Honestly, you had a lot of things you could thank him for, but that would take you more than just a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to keep him since you knew he had to get home too. Internally, you hoped maybe the two of you could meet up — you liked being in his presence.

He brushed it off with a brief wave of his hand, “No worries.” He didn’t feel like you needed to thank him for anything. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched you open up your door. It was too soon. He didn’t even hide the fact he was staring at you, you turned around back around to face him, ready to say bye, and awkwardly get inside.

This was his cue to leave. In any other situation, he’d say, ‘I’ll see ya around’. But he hesitated.

You felt like you were burning up under his pensive gaze, wanting to know what thoughts were occupying that mind of his. Whatever it was, he clearly had something to say. You felt your hopes lift. “Leon?”

The fact is, he had something to ask you. Some higher entity had listened to his pleas and he had gotten a week off, his godsent vacation was finally here.

Like he had mentioned to you once, he wasn’t a huge fan of planes. Vacation or not, he tried to avoid them, there was nothing more reliable than his gorgeous motorcycle. But, he made an exception, and maybe he’d feel more at ease with you on the plane with him. Truth be told, if you said no to his offer, he wouldn’t even go on a vacation abroad, he’d probably just stay at his place.

He was feeling a tad bit doubtful. He knew that your life had been flipped since you had gone abroad for a vacation, so maybe you’d say no. Regardless, he had to ask now. He could be given another assignment at a moment’s notice despite being granted a break, and your training was going to start in a while. He couldn’t afford to not make his feelings known, not with the kind of life he led.

“Hey, listen.” Leon broke the silence that he caused — taking a deep inhale before he continued to voice his thoughts. “I’ve been due for a vacation for a while, and I finally got some time off. I’m planning on taking a short trip.”

“Ah,” you remember a similar conversation, how could you not? You practically memorized every bit of information he told you. You closed your door and leaned against it, not wanting to seem like you were in some hurry to get in. “Italy, right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling over the fact that you remembered that detail. “So, here’s the thing. I bought two flight tickets and booked a room for two. If you’re not busy or anything and if it’s not crazy for you to consider then—“

“Yes,” you responded immediately, like it was pure instinct, the word slipped through your mouth before your mind even had time to process it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline you still felt from the ride.

He grinned, letting out a huff of amusement. “I didn’t even finish—“

He cut himself off when he felt you cup his face with your hands, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin — like warm and cozy laundry straight out of the drying machine. His Adams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed thickly, feeling the tension rise when your lips inched towards his.

You were taking the opportunity, afraid it would slip from your fingers like sand if you hesitated for even a second.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes searched his. After a few seconds of keeping his arms by his side, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, coaxing you closer to him.

Leon felt weak to the knees, crumbling at the eye contact before his eyes flitted towards your lips longingly. Closer. He could feel your lips brushing against his, not a kiss just yet, but the contact was there and served as a complete tease.

“Okay,” he murmured out, warm breath fanning against your lips. He tried to keep his voice stable, but the close proximity was killing him. His hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “Consider a first-class window seat all yours then.”

“With gourmet meals and all?”

“Mhm,” he couldn’t think—he parted his lips in anticipation for yours. His gaze returned to your eyes, his own were half-lidded, looking like they might shut at any minute in preparation for the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t like being in planes?”

“I don’t,” he replied briefly, this felt like torture. His voice was low and rugged, eyes now closing and head tilting to the side slightly. “But with you by my side, it wouldn’t matter.”

God, he was perfect. You pressed your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands snaked up to gently hold the back of your head and keep you in place. He felt an influx of dopamine hit him right away, losing himself in your suave kiss — he was hooked on your taste, it felt like a drug. Like he’d go through withdrawals if he ever had to go without this sensation again.

One of your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling around the ends of his hair. It was soft, feeling like silk. Your nails brushed against his skin on the nape of his neck and he shuddered, feeling the remaining air in his lungs vanish. He could keep going though, he’d drown in your kisses and suffocate by the sweet taste and press of your lips without a single complaint.

If love was possible just by a single kiss, then Leon had just gotten struck by an arrow. It continued, kiss after kiss. It felt right. The final piece to a puzzle — the perfect fit.

Not having a death wish, you eventually pulled back for breath. His lips chased yours, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, only pausing when he heard your soft laughter, one that made his heart leap and his eyes open to meet your own. He pressed his forehead against yours, a smile ghosting his lips as he took the moment in. “We’re uh, pretty good at that.”

“Mm, I dunno.” You shrugged out, running your thumb against his bottom lip. “I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?”

It was a clear ploy to continue on with the kissing. He took the bait with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m game. Just do a countdown and I’m ready whenever.”

“Someone’s eager, here goes. One, two, three…”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil one shot #re4 x reader

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boba-beom · 6 months

Text

₊ ⊹꩜ backrow theatre | CHOI BEOMGYU, KANG TAEHYUN

⟢ sub!beomgyu x switch fem!reader x dom!taehyun

⟢ drabble; smut, little fluff

⟢ going on a date with beomgyu in an empty cinema was a plan from the beginning. what you didn't know was that you were being monitored the whole time, and turns out it wasn't just you and beomgyu wanting to have some fun.

⟢ wc: 1.1k (drabbles never drabble)

⟢ a/n: beomgyu and taehyun. the back row of an empty movie theater. smut. @junniieesbby's req for my event! MDNI. I decided I'll slowly release these drabble reqs from my event during the week days too, I feel like it'd be a lot to post during the weekend :') I received more reqs than I thought! but I am extremely thankful nonetheless! feedback would be appreciated as always ᡣ𐭩

warnings under cut

⟢ petnames;(baby, pretty girl, good boy, etc), sir kink, threesome duh, oral (m. receiving), degradation;(slut), deep throating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, somewhat voyeurism, there's some mxm moments (if you don't like that don't send hate, just don't read), unprotected sex, hair pulling, soft choking, pervy taehyun, spit kink and cum eating. lmk if I missed anything!

giving beomgyu head in the back row of an empty cinema was not part of the agenda your a first date, but you weren't mad about it. and neither was the man moaning like nobody's business. you two were the only ones in the cinema room after all.

"ugh, shit, baby. your mouth feels so good." beomgyu sighs, placing both of his hands on either side of your temples, resisting how fast you're sliding his dick down your throat.

the dim lights only made the view of you on your knees even hotter for your date. your fingers fondle his balls while you try and take him in deeper every now and then, and he loved it indicated by his throaty moan.

in the cinema, each room is under surveillance by a member of staff; monitoring any forbidden activities such as filming the screen or in this instance, someone receiving head at the back row of an empty cinema.

the movie wasn't much of an appeal to most but it was also the first day of the viewing—at the latest time too. the member of staff huffs, adjusting his half-hard dick in under his slacks while watching the way your head bobs up and down between the legs of a man slumping in his seat. but he better do his job.

you kneel back on your legs, fisting beomgyu's cock with both hands painfully slow, twisting your fists as he leans forward to kiss you, moaning into your mouth.

light shines on the both of you, along with a stern voice interrupting.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I'm going to have to kick you guys out-"

"please don't kick us out," you squint to read his name tag, "taehyun."

blinded by his torch shining on the lewd scene of your slick hands over beomgyu's pulsing dick, you manage to see the corner of his lips curve upward.

"why shouldn't I? this is unacceptable and it's public indecency." he retorts, but his growing erection feels otherwise.

"if I let you fuck me will you let us finish and not tell anyone, sir?" you look up at him with your doe eyes, almost whining from the title rolling off of your tongue.

your boldness was good enough to keep you going, beomgyu's cock back in the warmth of your mouth and taehyun's pounding you from behind, also kneeling. the grip of two pairs of hands on your body—your head and your hips—essentially had your mind reeling, another thing added that wasn't on your agenda.

taehyun's thrusts didn't falter, fucking you hard enough until your legs are shaking, him having to hold you up.

"fucking cum, slut." taehyun grunts between clenched teeth.

your moans over beomgyu's cock doesn't help him from hold back his noises, whining your name as he feels his length throbbing against your tongue. that is, until taehyun pushes your head down, taking more of beomgyu until his tip was lodged down your throat and gargling, then pulling at your hair, stopping just when beomgyu's tip remains in your mouth.

the male above you starts grabbing on the arms of the seat, throwing his head back and mouth agape while you're moaning around his tip until he unloads his thick cum in your mouth.

"don't swallow yet, pretty girl." taehyun pants behind you, snapping his hips as he pistons into your throbbing cunt. "c'mere."

you shuffle on your knees, knowing they're bruised but the pain is nonexistent in a situation like this. taehyun sits beside beomgyu and fists his shaft, waiting for you to position yourself between his legs.

you open your mouth slowly, careful not to spill beomgyu's cum from the corners of your lips. after a couple more strokes, taehyun hunches forward, letting out his strangled groans after each pump of his white ribbons spurting out his tip and into your full mouth.

"good girl." he sighs, chest heaving while he caresses your cheek once you close your mouth. but you don't swallow. letting the bitter cum of both men mix over and under your tongue.

taehyun turns to beomgyu, a thought brewing in his head and hoping you'd be quick to catch on. he grabs your date's jaw, delicately squeezing his cheeks.

"open." is all he says, and beomgyu was quick to oblige, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out flat against his bottom lip.

taehyun looks at you, smirking and nodding his head in beomgyu's direction, a subtle smile playing on your lips. you genuinely wouldn't have taken him to be such a freak but he's so hot, and the lust in his eyes while he waits for you to move was enough to realise he was just as freaky.

getting up on your feet, your knees almost buckle as you move to hover over beomgyu, crawling over his lap as your slicked cunt makes contact with his half-hard dick. you look at him below you, whiny and bringing his hands over a loose hold around taehyun's wrist.

leaning over beomgyu's face, you part your lips, slowly letting the mixed substances fall out your mouth and into the male's beneath you. when you felt nothing left in your mouth you press your lips against beomgyu's roughly kissing him and still tasting the cum on against your tongues.

another higher pitched whine rumbles in his chest when he felt the liquids sliding down his tongue and to the back of his throat.

"that's my good boy. now swallow, baby." you coo in his ear and you feel beomgyu's cock jump beneath you, taehyun, too, found that extremely hot.

you didn't take beomgyu to be someone who would eat his own cum, let alone a stranger's, but you'd by lying to yourself if you said that it didn't turn you on.

when beomgyu swallowed the last drop of cum he opened his mouth to show you, tongue sticking out again and taehyun's hand slides down to beomgyu's throat, applying light pressure as he raises off of the seat and spits into the other male's mouth, then nods. beomgyu swallows that too, no hesitancy in sight.

"god, you take anything we give you, don't you?" taehyun chuckles, thumb rubbing beomgyu's bobbing adam's apple.

the movie was coming to an end, the credits just about to appear and the lights gradually brightens up the room while the three of you sort out your clothes and wiping down the collective mess on the seats.

you grab your jacket from your seat, looking around to find taehyun making his way to the exit of the theatre room.

"taehyun!" you call after him, also making your way down the steps to catch up to him.

he turns around, brows cocking up and his hands in his pockets.

"I was wondering," you start sweetly, "could I get your number and we can fuck again?"

he chuckles at your straightforwardness, taking his phone out for you to put your number in his contacts.

"pretty thing, I'd love to. just, not in the theatre again. you're lucky it was just me who saw." he responds firmly, but he has that stupid smirk crawling on his lips again. "and beomgyu?"

you give him a sweet smile.

"you two are hot so.." you trail, "this arrangement good?"

taehyun looks up to where beomgyu was, walking up behind you with his flushed cheeks.

"yeah, this could work." he nods, retrieving his phone from you. "see you around miss."

"see you around, sir."

taglist: @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @ahnneyong @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @itaehynz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @aprilisque @ja4hyvn @smutnoullitheorem @seolis-world @jak-ey @my313 (send an ask to be part of the taglist! here's the spreadsheet for reference!)

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headkiss · 9 months

Text

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can��t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

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jessejaredstories · 10 months

Text

Type Casting

“C’mon, let’s just give it one more go!”

“I don’t want to…”

Robert was slumped against the wall with his head in between his knees. His friend Aidan was looking down at him. Aidan let out a heavy sigh, then bent down to meet Rob at eye level.

“Listen man, I’m trying to help you out here but you’re making it really difficult.” Aidan tried to make eye contact with Rob, but he turned the other way. “What was that thing you used to say? The best actors can turn themselves into anyone they want? What happened to that energy?”

“Let’s be honest, I was just lying to myself. Even I didn’t believe that bullshit.” Rob said muffled through his hands. He then let himself fall over onto the ground, much to Aidan’s growing annoyance. While Rob was laying on the asphalt, he looked up to the sky above. The dark of night had just settled in and the first few stars had just come out.

Ever since he was a kid, Robert dreamed of being a big time Hollywood actor. He always imagined himself up on the silver screen whenever he went to the movies. Although Rob had spent most of his childhood and adolescence performing for local theater groups, he unfortunately never made it into the big leagues. He had all but given up on his childhood dream and settled for a life working in retail.

However, just as Rob was getting comfortable living an ordinary life, everything changed one fateful day when an acting agent walked into the store. The agent was in desperate need of an actor for an upcoming commercial shoot after the previous guy dropped last minute. Rob just so happened to be on the clock that day. They had a conversation, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, Rob got the part. It was a minor acting gig with only two lines, but it was enough to reignite the passion Rob had for acting. So much so that he decided to quit his day job and pursue acting full time.

But unfortunately for Rob, his good luck started as well as ended on that fateful day. He hasn’t been able to land another acting job despite having gone on numerous auditions. While Rob was already on the verge of giving up again, his best friend Aidan was still holding out hope for him.

“Bro, c’mon, they’re looking for a Filipino dude and you’re the only one auditioning. How could they not cast you?” Aidan said.

“It’s really not that simple… I can’t just be type casted into a role because of my race. They’re looking for a gym bro kinda guy, and I’ve seen cats with more upper body muscle than me. I don’t even look the part, much less act it. It’s hopeless!” Rob sighed and rolled over. They both lingered in silence for a minute.

“You know, maybe we should just call it a night. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep,” Aidan said.

“I doubt it, not unless I can somehow become a gym bro overnight.”

“Stranger things have happened, you know…”

Rob was expecting Aidan to dismiss what he just said, not go along with it. He was only kidding after all! But Rob decided not to think twice about it and just laugh it off.

Robert went to bed that night restless and miserable. Normally he had no problem falling asleep, but for some reason, he just couldn’t sleep that night. Rob was eventually able to fall asleep after enough twisting and turning, but he was plagued by strange dreams. He kept dreaming about some muscular guy entering his bedroom while he slept. The dream was extremely lifelike, Rob felt he could reach out and get a feel of the dude’s jacked bicep!

Rob tried to touch him, but when he reached out, he found himself awake in his bed. Rob blinked and rubbed his eyes as he looked around his empty room. It was just a dream, nothing more and nothing less. Rob nodded off again. As he slept peacefully, the same muscle bro came back in his dreams, albeit in a very different way the second time around.

In the dream, Rob was still just laying down sleeping in his bed. He tried moving his body, but couldn’t. His body was in a deep sleep, and all Rob could do was watch himself sleep.

At first, the dream was nothing more than him sleeping. After a couple of minutes passed, the muscular man made a reappearance. He crept back into Rob’s bedroom, except he was fully naked this time! Rob was caught off guard, but quickly found himself enjoying the view. The man was clean shaven all over his body except for three places: his thick mustache, his hairy pits, and his unruly bush of pubic hair. Rob loved the glorious sight of masculine, well-kept yet hairy man standing in his bedroom. He knew intuitively that the man’s name was Jacob. He watched as Jacob approached him on the bed. He also noticed that the dream version of himself had woken up and had begun stripping down naked. Jacob then hopped on the bed with him, placing himself in between Dream Rob’s open legs. Jacob was stroking himself while Dream Rob was feeling around his well-toned torso. He cupped one of Jacob’s pecs and felt how firm the slabs of meat on his chest were. Jacob had a cocky grin on his face as Rob worshiped him. He then bounced his pecs for Rob, which made him whimper from pleasure.

Even though it was a dream, everything Rob was feeling felt just like real life. He could feel Jacob rubbing his hardening cock against his own dick, which made him get erect too. Rob felt Jacob’s thick bush brush up against the underside of his thighs as he thrusted his hips into him while jerking off. Soft, sensual moans escaped Rob’s lips, matching Jacob’s gruff, baritone groans. Once they were both at full mast, Jacob moved onto the next step of their little “play session.”

Jacob moved up closer to Rob. He grabbed his rock hard cock and positioned it right next to Rob’s. Rob was stunned at how hung Jacob was. He had both length and girth to his junk, and with a big, pink tip too! Jacob then put their dicks together in one hand and jerked them both off. Rob let out a loud moan as Jacob pumped away at both of their cocks. Jacob’s hand had a rough feel to it, most likely due to calluses from working out. Rob also noticed how warm his hand was, which added to the warm pleasure Rob was feeling as Jacob jerked them off. It was the best feeling Rob had felt in a long while.

Precum soon began leaking from the tips of their cocks. Jacob noticed his leakage and shuffled away slightly to reposition himself. Rob was purring with anticipation. He was expecting him to put it in, but instead he got something he could’ve never guessed. Rob started stroking himself off at a rapid pace and with bated breath. Rob assumed he was about to finish, but that guess was wrong too. Instead, Jacob’s cock started growing even longer and wider. Jacob then closed the gap between them again. He hovered his cock over Rob’s junk and lowered it. Jacob’s cock then engulfed Rob’s entire dick and balls area. Rob winced. He felt a pinch when he got swallowed up by Jacob’s engorged member. Jacob’s dick was throbbing. The vein running from the base to the tip was pulsating. Rob could feel Jacob twitching due to their dicks being conjoined. Only a few more seconds before Jacob let out a primal moan from deep within. Rob had no idea what was happening, but unfortunately had no time to react.

“Ahhh… Ah!? Arghh FUCKK!!” Rob moaned. He could feel the warmth of Jacob shooting out ropes of cum. However, because his cock was inside of Jacob’s, his loads had nowhere to go except inside of Rob’s dick. Rob was squirming as he felt all of Jacob’s spunk rush through the slit of his cockhead and down the length of his member. Jacob kept shooting out load after load and all of it was getting pumped straight into Rob’s balls. Rob’s cock and balls grew thicker and heavier as a result of getting filled up. He had become hung like a horse, sporting a cool 7 inch cock with some hefty girth to match its length too. Jacob’s seed had overwhelmed Rob’s reproductive system, forcing it to produce Jacob’s DNA rather than Rob’s. All of the testosterone filled cum Jacob had pumped into Rob began transforming the lower half of his body.

The body transformation was as pleasurable as it was intense. Waves of ecstasy-like warmth spread throughout Rob’s legs and thighs as they grew exponentially bigger, forcing Rob to throw his head and moan as it all happened. The lower half of his body essentially exploded with mass. Once they finished growing, Rob’s body immediately shaped the extra mass into chiseled, muscular legs that looked just like Jacob’s.

Rob felt like his body was on fire after the explosive growth his legs went through! He was huffing and puffing for breath after that bodily experience. Rob was thankful that no more cum was getting pumped into him. It seemed like Jacob had finally been drained of every last drop. However, although his balls might’ve run dry, Jacob knew of another way to keep the transformation fun going.

Jacob let Rob’s dick wiggle out of his own. Once they were detached, his engorged cock shrunk back down to its usual size. Jacob then positioned Rob to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He then hopped on top of him, placing him in between his beefy legs. Rob was now at eye level with Jacob’s massive chest.

Rob salivated being so close to Jacob’s beefy pecs. He reached out and grabbed his left nipple with thumb and forefinger. He felt the few hairs surrounding the nipple tickling against his fingers as he gave him a light squeeze, causing Jacob to groan with delight. Rob then leaned in and planted his lips against Jacob’s succulent nipple. Rob could taste the salt of a few sweat drops as he used his tongue to flick his nipple around in his mouth. The thought of suckling a man’s juicy pecs made Rob get hard again, encouraging him to give Jacob the best service his mouth could offer.

Jacob was breathing heavily as Rob sucked off his sensitive nipples. He began running his fingers through Rob’s hair while Rob went to work. While they were both having the time of their lives, this only lasted a few minutes before Jacob decided to switch things up again. He grabbed hold of Rob’s head and pressed him against his pec. Rob didn’t think twice about Jacob’s sudden dominance; he simply assumed he wanted him to suck even harder. He proceeded to suck and lick and bite as pleasurably as he could. Meanwhile, Jacob was using his free hand to rub down his pectoral muscles. He started squeezing at the top of his chest and ran his hand down to the nipple, stimulating his pecs until they started lactating.

“Mmmm… Mmmrrngh? Mmmmm…!!”

Rob noticed there was a sudden new taste in his mouth. However, it was a sweet, slightly milky taste that he quickly grew addicted to. It didn’t deter him from sucking Jacob’s chest, it only encouraged him to go even harder. Rob drank it all like a starving kitten while Jacob was in a world of heaven due to the combined sensations of lactating and having a man’s warm mouth sucking down on his nipple.

Rob struggled to swallow all the milk. Some of it leaked out and ran down Rob’s mouth, causing an even wetter mess than before, but Rob kept at it. Jacob’s pec milk was the key to the second half of the transformation. The more of the sweet, sweet pec milk Rob drank, the stronger he was becoming. His torso began swelling up with muscle mass just like his legs did. His arms grew until he had two cannons with melon-sized biceps. His shoulders and back grew wider and chiseled. His pecs ballooned out but stayed firm with muscle, giving him a set of man tits that would put anyone to shame with their voluptuous size. By the time Jacob’s chest had finally run dry, Rob had been completely transformed into a beefy bodybuilder just like him.

Rob leaned back from Jacob’s now swollen chest and swallowed the last few drops of milk he managed to suckle out. Once he swallowed, he let out a satisfied exhale and a loud burp. He then looked at Jacob with pleading eyes, the same eyes you would see on any submissive bottom eager to please. Jacob looked down to match Rob’s gaze, then grinned. He leaned down and gave Rob a big, fat kiss on the lips. Rob kissed him back too. He then opened his mouth slightly to let Jacob stick his tongue inside his mouth. Their tongues danced together in Rob’s mouth with Jacob’s tongue taking the dominant role. They then locked lips together for one last triumphant tongue kiss. Once Jacob pulled away, Rob noticed some course hair touching his upper lip. He reached out to touch his lip and with one stroke of the finger, he realized what had happened. Jacob had bestowed upon him the finishing touch of his transformation- his thick mustache befitting of a muscle daddy like the new him.

Robert woke up in an incredibly great mood the next morning. He laid in bed with a wide smile on his face as he fondly replayed the weird yet awesome wet dream he had last night. Although he would always have the memory, he hoped the dreamy muscle man would visit him again sometime in the future.

Rob noticed his body felt heavier as he laid in bed. He took a look down at himself, then smirked. It was the kind of cocky smirk any guy with a great body would have. He was hot and he knew it!

He jumped out of bed with glee and ran to the nearest mirror to check himself out. Surely enough, his reflection in the mirror matched the same beefy cupcake his own eyes showed him. Rob almost couldn’t believe he had actually transformed overnight. He had so many questions running through his mind, but standing in front of the mirror, all he could think about was how hot his new body had become.

“Fuck yeah! I’m ripped as fuckk!!”

While Rob was busy admiring his new self in the mirror, someone had been knocking on the door. Rob didn’t even notice someone was knocking. As a result, their knocks had evolved to them pounding on the door. The pounding was enough to finally get Rob’s attention. Annoyed, Rob pulled himself away from the mirror and hurried to the door. He opened it to an equally annoyed Aidan waiting on the other side.

“Where the fuck have you- Woah.” Aidan stepped into Rob’s apartment ready to chew him out but stopped after taking one look at the new him. He almost didn’t recognize him due to his new muscular physique. He had to look closely at his face just to recognize him. “Rob? Is that you!? Holy shit!!”

“I know right! Check me out bro, you like my new look?” Rob flexed his bicep for Aidan while he hyped him up. Though Aidan was happy for his friend, he remembered the reason why he came by in the first place.

“I don’t know how the fuck you managed to go super saiyan on me overnight, but we don’t have time for this right now. Your audition’s in an hour and it’s all the way across town!”

“Oh fuck!! I completely forgot about that, let’s GO!”

Rob quickly threw some clothes on and ran out the door with Aidan by his side. They barreled down the highways at dangerously high speeds, driving as fast as Rob’s car could manage. They were able to make it to the rec center where auditions were being held just in the nick of time. Rob ran into the waiting lobby just as the producer called out his name.

“Alright bro… You got this… Break… A leg!” Aidan said in between huffs, fighting to catch his breath after sprinting from the parking lot. Rob nodded and followed the producer into the backroom.

“Welcome, Robert, please feel free to take a minute to catch your breath. I know you had to run to get here on time, what happened?” the producer asked as she took a seat next to the director.

“Nothing, just traffic. You know how it gets in this city,” Rob responded.

“I see. Well then, feel free to start whenever you’re ready.”

“Actually, before I start, is it alright if I do a little improv? I have the sides down but I wanted to add my own little flair to the scene.”

“Do as you must, just be sure to show us your best performance.” The director answered with a bored inflection in her voice.

Rob nodded, then proceeded to perform the sides for the audition. He had the sides perfectly memorized, and he followed the script’s exact punctuation down to the comma too. Rob didn’t stray far from the script for the most part, but for his rendition of the scene, he decided to take out his shirt and play the character as an aloof himbo rather than just an arrogant jock.

Once he finished performing, Rob looked up to see their faces. The producer looked irritated, while the director still had the same poker face she had when Rob first entered the room.

“Well! Thank you for your time, Robert, we’ll let you know if-”

“No need,” the director waved her hand to stop the producer. “After seeing over 20 auditions today, I can say with confidence that you’re the best fit for the role. Congratulations Robert, you got the part.”

Rob was bursting with joy. He shook the director’s hand with an over enthusiastic vigor and a wide grin on his face. He then walked out to share the great news with Aidan, who was just as excited as he was. He had done it; he had landed a role in a major Hollywood production as the main character’s meathead yet lovable brother.

Epilogue

Several months have passed since Rob finished filming his last major role. His newly acquired looks granted him the confidence he needed to perform at his best. Coupled with his eagerness and passion for acting, Rob had become the total package, and other big names in the film industry agreed too. Word had gotten out on how Rob was set to become a rising star. A couple of directors had even scouted him for their upcoming projects! All in all, Rob was enjoying the new life he was only just starting to build up for himself as an actor.

However, there was one slight problem. Rob and Aidan’s friendship had taken a turn for the worse lately. While Aidan was happy for his buddy’s success and Rob was more than happy to share some of the Hollywood glamor with his best friend, the two had begun bickering a lot.

It started back when Rob first transformed into the beefy bodybuilder he was now. Rob was slowly becoming more and more arrogant ever since then. Aidan didn’t notice at first, but it was becoming more obvious with every passing day. Every other sentence Rob said had the word “bro” shoved into it. That, and if it didn’t involve his acting career, going to the gym, partying, or fucking hot dudes, then Rob simply had no time or patience for it. Even Aidan, his best friend since primary school, had been shoved into the sidelines! Rob had become the epitome of a selfish, gym rat narcissistic.

But Aidan was never the type to simply roll over and give up. He would sooner die than let his best friend go without a fight. So he decided to try and get the old Rob back, much to his dismay.

Rob was in the middle of getting ready to go out clubbing with his other actor friends. While getting dressed, he decided to take a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He made sure to keep up with the maintenance a hot, muscular body like his needed in order to be maintained. He was proud of his physique, and it was then he decided he was gonna find another hot guy to fuck all night long. It had been too long since he last got off after all, his balls were already hanging low with how full they were! All he needed was someone to drain him of his load.

As Rob was recording a new thirst trap to send out on dating apps, he got an incoming video call from Aidan. Rob grunted and declined the call. Annoyed, he threw his phone off to the side. But just as he was about to resume getting ready when he felt something strange in his chest. He looked down and bounced his pecs again. Rob noticed that it took him more effort than usual to flex his pectoral muscles. He grabbed one of his pecs, gave it a squeeze and when he did, he felt like something was about to leak out of his nipple. Something… Like milk.

Aidan called again. Rob turned to look at his phone ringing on the bed. He then looked back down at his body. It was then a brilliant idea had hit him. Rob and Aidan were going to be the best of friends again after he was done.

#male transformation

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cleolinda · 11 months

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The Scariest Movie I Ever Saw in a Theater: The Ring

I'll tell you up front that the story I'm going to tell you is about "The Ring (2002)," in the sense that it is about The Ring in the year 2002.

See, I don't know what The Scariest Movie Ever is. A quick google says that the consensus is The Exorcist (I haven't seen it, because I never felt like scheduling a day to freak myself the entire fuck out). But horror is specific, and not just to a person, but to a time and place, even. When I saw The Shining as a teenager in a well-lit living room with other people, I didn't even really flinch, but I bet it would play very differently to me now. I don’t think The Ring is at the top of anyone’s list, but twenty years ago, I had a personal interest in it—at the time, I was running a dinky little Geocities site devoted to movie news. Links curated and compiled from all the other, bigger sites I followed—basically, it was the linkspam format I have used on multiple platforms, including here on Sundays. And so, as someone who followed theatrical releases pretty closely for two or three years, I saw the trailer for The Ring, and I immediately knew it was going to be huge.

To locate you in time, this was just after three self-satirizing Scream movies and the Overcomplicated Serial Killer films of the '90s. The Ring was something completely different: chill aqua-blue color grading a good 5-6 years before Twilight; a mournful Hans Zimmer score; no jokes, no quips; and a slow, inexorable sense of doom. Grief, even, given that the movie begins with the death of the main character's niece. What immediately struck me about the first trailer was 1) the melancholy of it, and 2) how much it doesn't explain. Onscreen, you get the title cards,

THERE IS A VIDEOTAPE IF YOU WATCH IT SEVEN DAYS LATER YOU DIE

youtube

Concise! Understandable! A woman (Naomi Watts) is freaking out upon discovering that her young son has just watched it! Admirable job setting up the premise and the stakes of this entire movie in thirty seconds flat, without even any dialogue. That's all you need to know, and thus, the remaining minute of the trailer can do whatever it wants, and what it wants to do is be fucking weird. Echoing voices, TV static, a closeup of a horse's eye, ladders, a girl with dark hair, people reacting to things we don't see, drippy doorknobs, rain. Characters don't give us the whole plot in convenient soundbites of dialogue (like they do in a later trailer); we just hear lines, overlapping, murmured out of context—

did you see it in your head? she talks to you... leading you somewhere... showing you the horses... you saw it. did you see it in your head? she shows me things. Everyone suffers.

That you saw it has lived in my head ever since, and not once have I charged it rent. But the "best" part is Naomi Watts screaming at the end, because you don't hear her voice; you only hear this heartless telephonic beeeeeeep. It's 2002 and I'm watching this trailer, thinking, I have no idea what the fuck I just saw. This is going to be huge.

And it was, to the tune of $249 million on a $48M budget.

At risk of recapping what you might already know, Ringu, aka Ring, is a media franchise that spiraled out from a trio of Koji Suzuki novels into Hideo Nakata's film Ringu (1998), a landmark of Japanese horror, plus several other movies, some TV series, many comics, and even a couple of video games. The overarching story is about a murdered girl/vengeful ghost named Sadako Yamamura whose rage and pain have created a cursed video tape, you watch it and you die unless you pass the tape around like a virus, seven daaaaays, etc.

The "ring" in question is the rim of a well. Keep that well in mind.

The movie I saw is the U.S. remake, which itself had two sequels. (The iconic Sadako is now named Samara Morgan. Keep her in mind, too.) Director Gore Verbinski moved from The Ring to Pirates of the the Caribbean (!), and so Hideo Nakata himself would direct The Ring Two. I... honestly have only seen the first one. And I was right, it was huge, and it kicked off the American J-Horror Remake genre, for better or worse. But what gets forgotten about The Ring is its marketing campaign, which I followed pretty closely for my doofy little news site.

It was inspired.

The story of The Ring is partly the story of the sea change in the media landscape—how we watch movies. And the story of its marketing is a picture of the very last years before social media changed the wilderness of the internet into something that feels so big, like a billion people could see anything we say, and yet so small—only a tame handful of places to say it, owned by three or four companies, and corraled by algorithms.

Back around 1997-1998 or so, I worked at a video store (Movie Gallery, where the hits were there then, guaranteed) for about a year and a half. By the time I left, we had started adding DVDs to the VHS tapes on the shelves, but we hadn't replaced the entire stock. Video stores might have transitioned fully to DVD by 2002, I'm not sure, but people still commonly had both VCRs and DVD players in their homes. And I remember that The Ring was sold in both formats when it eventually hit home video. Which is to say—you know the analog horror genre today? Marble Hornets, Local 58, The Mandela Catalogue?

Analog horror is commonly characterized by low-fidelity graphics, cryptic messages, and visual styles reminiscent of late 20th-century television and analog recordings. This is done to match the setting, as analog horror works are typically set between the 1960s and 1990s. The name "analog horror" comes from the genre's aesthetic incorporation of elements related to analog electronics, such as analog television and VHS, the latter being an analog method of recording video.

Okay, but this is just what home media was like, and 2002 was at the very tail end of that—boxy black VHS tapes that degraded with time and reuse were just how we lived. At the same time, I'd been using CDs for music since about 1991, and all our software installs came on CD-ROM discs; a "mixtape" by that time had shifted to mean a rewriteable CD rather than a cassette tape. In college, I—well, I'll plead the Fifth as to whether I downloaded mp3s via Napster, but I was also taping Mystery Science Theater 3000 on VHS over the weekends. It was Every Format Everywhere, All At Once, and we kept half a dozen kinds of players around for them. Here in 2023, we stream and download everything invisibly, unless we choose to engage in format nostalgia. (I've already run into the problem of Apple Music deleting songs I really liked, due to this or that licensing issue, because I was really only renting them.) The year The Ring hit theaters was the edge of a last shimmering gasp of physical media where iTunes had only come into being the year before, and iridescent discs were still mostly what we used, but cassettes, both video and audio, were still viable. And so, people did not think it was terribly weird when they started finding unlabeled VHS tapes on their windshields.

Movieweb, quoting TikTok user astro_nina:

"Their marketing strategy was essentially 'let's get this tape viewed by as many people as possible without these people being aware of what this is, sort of raising intrigue," she says. One way they achieved this was by airing the tape, which allegedly marks its viewers for death within seven days, as a commercial with no context. The video would air between late-night programming "with no words, no mention of a movie, for like a month...so people would run into it and it would just go on to the next thing, and people would be like, 'what the f--k is this?'"

I remember seeing the Cursed Video as an unexplained ad at least twice, by the way. That TikTok also indicates that DreamWorks straight-up sent copies of the tape to Hot Topic stores, as well as planting them under actual movie theater seats. While running my movie site, I heard at least one story of someone finding a tape on the sink counter of a restroom at a club. Did the marketing department actually plant tapes in bathrooms—or did a freaked-out recipient leave it there, hoping to dodge the "curse"?

(I haven't embedded the Cursed Video here, by the way—but I could have. If you'd like to see the American take on it, you can watch both the full version and the shorter variant that appeared in the movie itself. A text description of what the fuck you're even looking at is here [content note for both: blood, insects, animal death, body horror, and suicide by falling]. The original version from the Japanese film is shorter, and it's eerie rather than gruesome.)

BUT WAIT, THERE WAS MORE: DreamWorks had something of an alternate-reality campaign going with a handful of in-character websites. This was only a year after Warner Bros. ran the groundbreaking "The Beast" ARG for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence: "Ultimately, fifty websites with a total of about one thousand pages were created for the [A.I.] game." (I lurked in the Cloudmakers Yahoo group.) Marketing for The Ring did not go anywhere that in depth, nor did it need to; it was both a smaller film and a smaller story. I saw at least two “personal” websites (seemingly amateur and a little tacky, like my own), but the one I particularly remember was about someone who owned/trained horses? I'm not sure if it was meant to be the actual Anna Morgan character—Samara's mother—or maybe someone who had noticed that the Morgans' horses were disturbed? I'm not even sure anyone even remembers this but me. Reddit users dug up a few other archived websites, but they're about Sadako, the curse and/or videotape; they aren't as subtle or character-oriented as the site I remember. (Honestly, I wonder if weird shit like "What Scares Me" or "SEVEN DAYS TO LIVE" were made by fans rather than a marketing department, but who knows.)

[The “About” page from Seven Days to Live on the Internet Archive.]

[The entirety of An Open Letter on the Internet Archive. “UPDATE” is a now-blank pop-up. I would bet $5 that it was originally a pop-up of the cursed video.]

I need to point out here that Facebook did not exist in 2002. It would not exist for another two years, and Twitter wouldn't exist until 2006. Even MySpace was not a thing until the next year. I didn't start my Livejournal until October of 2003. What we had, for the most part, were independent forums and blogs. We also had Creepy Internet Fiction like "The Dionaea House" and "Ted the Caver"; their use of the blog format, of people out there seemingly living their lives until something fucked up went down, gave the stories the shape of reality. And it helped that these blogs had comment sections, sure—sometimes more story unfolded there—but for the most part, an author could "abandon" a blog, and you'd just find the story there via word of mouth. Like the Ring blogs I remember, it wouldn't seem strange if no one replied to you, whereas today, you'd have to hire a writer to sit on Twitter, or Reddit, or even Tumblr, and interact with people in character. Could you do something like The Ring's mysterious, weird-ass blogs today? Would anyone even notice?

So: It's 2002, my head is full of Alternate Reality and eerie images and you saw it, and I'm hype as hell to go out and see The Ring. I'm perfectly happy to go see movies by myself, so I went in the early afternoon (best time to get a good seat). The movie ended up being a sleeper hit, and the first weekend, the public was still sleeping on it, so there were only 7-8 other people in that theater, grouped in maybe two clusters. I was off in my own little pool of darkness in the upper right quadrant. Functionally, once the lights went down, I was alone.

Despite some middling reviews at the time, The Ring is something of a horror classic nowadays. If you want a scary movie this Spooky Season, check out The Ring. Or don't, because it nearly killed me.

We're at the last, I don't know, third of the movie? And Our Heroine has tracked down the origin of the Cursed Videotape to some creepy mountain motel or whatever. SPOILER, it turns out that it was built over the Cursed Well (everything in this movie is cursed) that Our Villain was thrown into—that's why Sadako/Samara is a vengeful wet murder ghost crawling out of TVs now. While investigating this decrepit hotel room, intrepid journalist Rachel and her, who is it, her ex-husband? her kid's dad, idk, discover the well under the creaky old floorboards. And then, wouldn't you know it,

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE WELL

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE FUCKING WELL

THAT'S WHERE SAMARA'S BODY IS

youtube

[The rather slapstick moment when Rachel falls into the well. Does not include what actually happens next.]

I go absolutely rigid in my seat. Naomi Watts is splashing around this dark-ass death swamp of a well and I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known anything in my life, that Samara is about to pop up in all her pasty, waterlogged glory. All the sad creepy dread, all the desperation to figure out what the fuck all that shit on the tape was and stop Samara from killing Rachel's son, all the horrible contorted victim faces, all the alternate reality I’ve been soaking in, it has all come to this. I have to leave the theater. I cannot be having with this. I have to be gone from this place. My legs do not work. I cannot feel them. I am frozen. I want nothing more in this life or any other to get up and leave this cavernous pitch-black room, and I cannot. I start praying for death. I want you to understand that I am not trying to be flippant or humorous. This is genuinely what went through my head. I was too scared to even think, "You know, you could just pray to pass out or for motion to return to your limbs or something." No, I sat there in The Ring thinking, Please for the love of all mercy just let me cease being.

You know that scene in Mulholland Drive (also starring Naomi Watts)? Winkie's diner and the EXCRUCIATING tension? It was a little like that, except I wasn't watching it, I was experiencing it, and Samara was my dirt monster out behind the diner.

Except that the jump scare didn't actually happen. I mean, yes, Rachel finds Samara's body down there, but—I don't remember exactly, please don't make me go watch it again to tell you what actually happens. It's played more sympathetically on Rachel's part, as I recall, and she and her ex get Samara's body out so that she (Samara) can have a proper burial.

And then it turns out that this is not the end of the movie. It turns out that Rachel has Fucked Up.

I think I was relatively okay through the rest of it, although the climax is Samara emerging from a TV in her full glitching swampy glory to scare [SPOILER] to death. I don't recall praying for death twice. There's a point when you're so exhausted from fear chemicals that you're like, yeah, this might as well happen. Bring it, Soggy. I did have a hard time prying myself out of that seat afterwards, though, and my mom says that when I got home, I had the classic thousand-yard stare. How was the movie?

"It was great," I said, and I meant it.

I've seen things that were objectively scarier (I watched much of The Haunting of Hill House from behind a pillow, to be honest), and it's not like I've never experienced fear in real life. But I respect when a movie that can make me feel so intensely, and there's something weirdly precious about the way horror is a safe roller coaster, as it's often been said. So I love telling the story about The Time The Ring Nearly Killed Me—a movie that actually made my body stop working—and I love thinking of how embedded in a specific time and place that movie was for me. The last gasp of VHS when the Cursed Videotape still seemed plausible; the way the internet was still wild and weird and free; where I was in my life, keeping up so avidly with all the movie news, and finding myself in such a little pool of darkness early one afternoon. It's the scariest movie I saw in a theater; that's the alchemy of circumstance.

#the ring #ringu #horror #first look on patreon #movies #long post #spooky season #halloween everyday #long post is long #gifs

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ladykailitha · 7 months

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The Harrington Pattern Part 7

Hello! It's Tuesday and that means more Steve and Eddie. And it's looking like the story will end in chapter 12. It might take one more than that, but it's definitely almost done.

So what will that mean? Well, I'll start working on working on another story to bring it back up to two, but will still only work on the others on WIP Wednesday because I'm trying to get down the amount of WIPs I have running. I have far too many.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Day two of the Fair. Will sees Steve and Steve reveals a little trick. And Steve has to be stern mom again.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve picked up his usual set and went to the Renaissance Fair. This time they were the first to arrive and they stood there waiting for the rest of them to show up.

He had left the spirit gum with Mrs Sinclair and she was able to do an even better job then he had yesterday putting the ears back on.

The bow and quiver had been left behind today because sadly the poor bow had been a mangled, tangled mess by the time they left the fair yesterday.

Max and Robin’s cutlasses had fared better because they never left their sides, but even slung over Lucas’s shoulder, the poor aluminum just couldn’t bare the brunt of the crowds. And today was going to be even busier.

Steve looked at his watch and then back at the growing crowd waiting in line.

He tapped his foot nervously when he saw the familiar van pull into the lot. And the merry band of fellows hopped out, wearing the outfits they had yesterday. The ones that made Steve green with envy on how well they were put together.

It was like they had just walked off the set of a Hollywood movie.

He was good with a needle and thread, but whoever made their costumes should be making money off it, they were that talented.

Jeff came around to the other side of the van where Steve could see him and his ears looked great too.

“Looking good, Lawrence,” Steve whistled. “The ears are vastly improved.”

Jeff bowed dramatically. “Why thank you, my liege! I had my sister help me pick out the right color and type I needed and then I did it myself.”

Gareth snorted. “After practicing all night.”

Brian elbowed their youngest member. “It’s just like trying to get a beat right, you have to practice. Don’t give him shit for that.”

Gareth grumbled, but muttered a half-hearted apology to Jeff. The older teen just grinned at his friend.

Which after how crazy yesterday was, Steve wasn’t looking forward to a repeat if Jeff took offense to Gareth’s comment.

Eddie had been unusually quiet during this conversation, so while they milled around waiting for the remaining third of their group, Steve came up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down and forward to get a better look at the metalhead.

Eddie pursed his lips, but he nodded.

“You know, I have been dying to ask...”

Eddie smiled softly. “Who’s my tailor?”

Steve cackled. “Yeah, that. God, I would gleefully sacrifice one of the teenagers for the material alone, let alone the thread.”

“Which one?” Eddie asked, coming a little bit more out of his shell.

Steve reared back his head. “What?”

“Which one of the teenagers you would sacrifice?” Eddie asked again.

“Dustin,” Steve said without hesitation. “I figure virgin,” he counted on his fingers, “check, most annoying, check, and the one who would be the biggest... ‘value’ as it were, double check.”

Eddie laughed outright. “You don’t have to sacrifice any of them. Brian’s sister works at a big theater, the kind that do plays, as their costumer.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a bit of the black velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “You guys are so lucky.”

Eddie laughed again. “Trust me, even Bri had to pay for the privilege.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, rocking back on his heels. “We had to pay for all the material and patterns ourselves, plus at least twenty-five percent of labor. These duds may be pretty, but lo they be also pricey.”

“Well, it was certainly worth it,” Steve murmured. “You guys look fantastic.”

Eddie’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Thanks. Um...mine is actually based on a character from a short story. Brian’s mom is Polish, but she loves sc-fi and fantasy so she gets this magazine, right?” Steve nodded. “So, anyway she’ll translate into English for Brian to read. It’s about this male witch and he has this minstrel friend named Jeskier...” he pronounced it strange, like yes-keer. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong. But he’s so cool.”

“So you’re this minstrel guy?” Steve asked, suddenly understanding.

Eddie hummed excitedly. “Brian even went as one of the male witches. Not the main one though. But it’s still fun, you know?”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah. I never would have thought about going as a specific character before. Maybe we can plan something for next year.”

Whatever cloud leftover that was lingering over Eddie vanished in the light of Steve’s bright smile.

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “What’s on the docket today, pretty boy?”

Steve blushed bright red, but before he could answer, Claudia’s station wagon pulled up next to them. The four kids piled out, happily chatting and laughing. Well all but Mike.

Mike had always been a reserved kid, but as he got older, the more withdrawn he seemed to get. Will seemed to do the opposite. The kid was really coming out of his shell and into himself. And maybe that was the reason for Mike’s shrinking back.

Steve just shook his head and turned to Will. “Still no Jonathan?” he teased.

Will rolled his eyes. “He said and I quote ‘I’ll see about maybe Saturday’.”

Steve winced. He couldn’t make Jonathan come, but he could see how much Jonathan coming would mean so much to Will and it made his heart hurt just a little.

“Can’t force someone to have fun,” he said with a shrug. “It really is his loss.”

Will nodded sagely, like the mature person he was forced to become far too soon. “But! He did give me the ten dollars I needed for the staff to make up for it.”

Steve smiled. All right, maybe Steve didn’t have to stop by and give the elder Byers boy a piece of his mind.

He turned to Eddie. “Hey, you want to traverse the fields of commerce with me and Will to go get his staff?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! I didn’t get to go yesterday.”

Will grinned back. He turned to El and Mike. “You going to come with me. right?”

Mike shook his head. “El wanted to see the weavers this morning, but no one else wanted to go with her and with Steve’s dumb rule...”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve said. “Just because the Upside Down is gone, doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can hurt you.”

“We’re fifteen,” Mike protested. “I think that’s old enough to go by ourselves.”

Steve looked around at the other kids and they were all looking everywhere but at him. “May I remind you that we are literally standing on the ground where human monsters were trying to open a gate? Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes and even if you think you’re safe, is El? Or Will?”

The kids looked down at their feet and mumbled their apologies.

“I just want everyone safe and having a good time,” Steve finished. “You guys can do whatever you want, but do you know who your parents would blame if something happened to you?”

Dustin raised his head sharply. “But there are other adults here, why would they blame you?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m the fucking babysitter.” He walked off to get in line and everyone just followed behind quietly, suddenly somber.

Robin fell in step next to Steve and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve just ducked his head.

“It’s just a tricky age. You remember what it was like at their age,” she murmured.

“I was getting drunk every weekend, smoking, and having sex,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t want that for them.”

Robin kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet. But they’re going to have to figure it out on their own.”

Steve’s shoulders rounded. “I just want to them to have fun and we keep having knock out drag out fights before we go in and I–” he left out a deep sigh.

“You can’t be held responsible for what they do,” she said.

He snorted. “Tell that to Joyce or Claudia. Just because I’m the oldest.”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re not anymore and you know Eddie would do anything for those kids, too. Plus, this is exactly why you told them to find any adult. Let all of us help shoulder the load, too.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I’ll try. I just keep butting heads with Mike. Always Mike. And I don’t know what to do, he’s just so prickly and even outright hostile.”

“So don’t do anything,” Robin suggested.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Eddie handle it,” she said. “He did a fine job yesterday. So let him do it again.”

Steve pressed his lips together and then nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again and went back to talk to Eddie. Steve paid again for the tickets. Well, not all of them. Thankfully Eddie and his friends were paying their own way.

He turned to Will. “You ready to go get your staff?” He smiled broadly to hide the hurt of Mike’s rebellion.

Will smiled back. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie came bounding up to them. “I’ll meet you at the shop, there’s something I need to do really quick about tomorrow. They’ve messed up the schedule and me and Jeff have to go see someone about it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just ask Jeff where the shop is, he should remember which one.”

Eddie smiled again. “You betcha, big boy.” He flounced back to Jeff and Steve watched him walk away.

When he turned back to Will, the young man was looking at him with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

Will furrowed his brows. “I’m trying to decide if you know about...” he pursed his lips trying to find a way to say what he meant without outing Steve in public. “What you feel about a certain someone?”

Steve looked back at where Eddie had melted into the crowd and then back at this all too perceptive boy. He put his arm around Will and started them walking toward the shop.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” Steve started slowly, “I’ve known I like both for awhile now. It was just easier to focus on the one. The one that was socially acceptable, you know?”

Will nodded. “I can see that. And then he came barreling into our lives and a good kind of upside down happened?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Yeah. He is so sweet. He’s everything I thought I wanted in Nancy.”

Will grinned. “You do have a type.”

He scuffed Will’s hair a bit. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked in silence for awhile before Steve spoke up again.

“I feel I should give you a heads up before we get to the shop,” he said with a wince.

Will looked over at him in confusion.

“I may have talked the merchant in to holding it for you by giving them a ten dollar deposit to hold it.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

Steve laughed. “No, not really. By I can be persuasive and he was willing to do me the favor.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will murmured. “You’ve done so much for us, I think we take you for granted sometimes.”

Steve half shrugged. “My parents suck and while some of you have actually decent parents and older siblings, I don’t mind being the babysitter the one you guys look up to and come to for advice.”

Will smiled. “Any tips on how to tell your best friend you have a crush on them?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Look, the one time I did that I was drugged up on truth serum and literally couldn’t lie. I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

“Too bad Robin bats for the other team,” he said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Nah, I think her telling me that is what made it easier for me to realize that having those feelings can’t make you a bad person. Not when she was so amazing.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “That’s fair.”

“Come on you,” Steve said, “let’s go get you this wizard staff.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “You said it right. You never say the DnD terms right.”

Steve raised a finger up to his lips and winked. “I do it because it drives Dustin up the wall and Eddie just loves explaining it to me, so I kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

As they wove their way through the crowd, Will smiled to himself. Steve and Eddie both liked boys, knew they liked boys, and were still unapologetically themselves. And maybe he could be too.

But first, he was going to get that wicked staff he saw yesterday because he had two brothers looking out for him. His biological one and Steve. Someone who cared so deeply that even when he should have walked away, he stayed.

And Will always could use more people that just...stayed.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

For those that don't know "The Witcher" was an original short story in a Polish sci-fi/magazine in 1985. I couldn't figure out if Jeskier was in the original tale, so shush if he isn't.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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munsonslove · 2 years

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Making Deals (part 2)

(18+ only)

(part 1) • (part 3)

summary: It’s been a week since that evening in Eddie’s trailer, and things haven’t gone further like you expected them to. That all changes when a movie theater employee hits on you while you’re out with your friends.

wordcount: 3.5k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!perv!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, degradation (use of whore), use of pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), jealousy, public sexual acts, fingering (f receiving), hand jobs, no use of y/n

a/n: sorry they don’t go all the way in this one, i just had this idea and really wanted to write it. there will be a part 3!!!

Last weekend you and your best friend crossed a line that you never thought you both would actually be brave enough to cross. He pushed you so close to the edge that you had no choice but to give into your desires, and you’re so glad you did. At least, would be so glad, if Eddie had finally let go of his stupid pride and just asked you to officially be his already. He hasn’t tried to go past first base since that night, which was rather disappointing seeing as you really expected things to heat up even more after such events. You were still asking for little favors from him, and he was still requesting ‘trade offs’ in return, but nothing past making out and a little feeling up over the clothes. It was extremely sexually frustrating, not to mention demoralizing. Insecurity reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie regretted what you two did together.

It was Saturday night, and you were sitting with your knees tucked to your chest on the front porch steps to your house, waiting for Eddie’s van to enter your line of sight. It was a warm summer night, and your friend group had made plans to see some new sci-fi thriller that just came to theaters. Not to sound too conceited, but you admittedly felt rather pretty in the outfit you picked out specifically to grab Eddie's attention. You cashed in a favor yesterday to borrow one of his Dio shirts (‘Why do you want it so bad, princess?’ ‘It’ll look so cute with the boots I just bought!’ ‘Well, you know the deal, lay down on the bed…’) and you’ve got it tucked into a little black skirt- the exact one that you’ve noticed makes his eyes wander whenever you wear it. Also, you weren’t lying, it really does go well with your new shoes.

Headlights spark up the dark night in front you, and when you look down the street you see a two-toned Chevy van driving up. Eddie stops right in the middle of the road, not bothering to pull to the side when it’s devoid of any other cars, and hops out to jog around his hood before opening the passenger side door. You make sure to blow a kiss and shoot him a ‘Thanks, handsome,’ as you slide into your seat, giggling at his wink in response.

As you both pull away from your house, he immediately goes into a rant about what happened at band practice earlier, jokingly laying into you about your absence. According to him, it doesn’t run as smoothly when Corroded Coffin’s number one fan isn’t there to cheer them on after every song. Rolling your eyes and rummaging through the glove department, you pull out something you know you’ll both like and insert it into the cassette player before turning up the volume just loud enough that you’ll still be able to hear each other talk.

He continues berating you good-naturedly, “Since you had so much better things to do than sit and look pretty in Gareth’s garage-”

“I had work!” you cut him off.

“- I’ve decided it’s time for you to go through with a little promise you made to me,” he finishes, ignoring the fact that you said anything.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you rake your brain, trying to think of what promise he’s talking about. Eddie dips his hand inside his leather jacket, reaching into one of the inner pockets and taking out some bunched up fabric. A gasp leaves you as you recognize the panties you were wearing during that night, and a vague memory flashes through your head.

(“I’m gonna stuff them in my mouth while I jerk off,” he answers shamelessly. “Then, when I’m close, I’m gonna rub them on my dick til I cum right in the crotch. Then I’m gonna make you wear them when we’re around our friends, so you can feel the dry crust whenever you walk or shift, and you’ll know that you have a little bit of me right between your legs. Just like I know you so desperately crave.”)

He tosses them to the side, not sparing you a glance as he keeps his eyes glued to the road. They land in your lap, and your hands instinctively go to cover them, your modesty overruling the common sense that he’s had them for the last week. You turn your head wildly to stare at him in shock, jaw dropped and eyes wide. He doesn’t actually expect you to do this, does he? Sure, at the time it was a sexy fantasy and it brought you closer to orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to make you actually go through with it…

Thinking through the moment a little more thoroughly, you can’t recall ever actually saying you would do it. “I don’t think I really promised-”

“You came, didn’t you?” he asked, interrupting your excuses.

Your face, along with the area between your legs, warms up. For as much as you’re resisting, the idea of only you and Eddie knowing that you’re wearing a pair of panties he made you cum in- and then masturbated with- is really turning you on. You accept his challenge, and throw the dirty pair on the dashboard before unbuckling your seatbelt. Eddie finally looks over and watches as your hands disappear under the hem of your skirt, and the forced nonchalant expression he’s attempting (and failing) urges you on with the confidence it brings you. Your fingertips hook under the lace of your current underwear, and your butt loses contact with the seat cushion as you glide the garment down your legs. When you sit back down to lift your feet and fully remove it, your skirt rides up. Velvet brushes your bare center, and embarrassment floods your system as you accept that there’s probably going to be a small wet patch when you leave the van. Once again opening the glove department, you stuff the delicate lace inside on top of some loose tapes and click it shut before picking back up the other panties.

Finally examining them, you can tell Eddie used them in exactly the way he said he would- maybe even multiple times. He smiles as he watches you put them on and rebuckle your seatbelt, then rests his right hand on your leg, his splayed fingers grazing your inner thigh and squeezing.

Upon leaving the car and walking into the theater side by side, you both meet up with your group of friends and start shooting the shit, ignoring the dirty glares given to you by the parents there with their children. The poster for the movie you’re about to see catches your eye and the tagline makes you laugh. ‘Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.’ Popcorn, soda, and candy is bought at the concession stand (your share paid for by Eddie, as he always insists) and you can’t help but feel the eyes of the boy behind the counter checking you out as he prepares your purchases. Eddie seems to notice this as well, as he instinctively moves to put his arm around your shoulder until he stops short, remembering that he’s holding two large plastic cups of cola. The employee holds out a bucket of popped kernels to you, and you take it from him.

“Nice shirt! I love Dio,” the boy says, grinning with lidded eyes, clearly attempting to flirt with no chagrin toward the butter stains on his uniform. He’s a little shorter than Eddie, with shoulder length curly blonde hair, clear skin, and a name tag reading ‘Brian’. Definitely the type most girls your age would go for, and you’d probably go for him too if a certain future rock star hadn’t already stolen your heart.

Said future rock star scoffs next to you. “It’s my shirt,” he says, and when you look over you see that he’s not even trying to mask his jealousy. An idea forms in your head.

“Oh, are you two…” Brian trails off, his pointer finger motioning between the both of you.

“We’re just friends,” you explain, and you can feel Eddie’s rage at that statement emitting off of him.

He shoves the drinks into Gareth’s empty hands and takes a hold on your lower back, manhandling you away and toward the theaters. Some popcorn falls out of the bag and you look over your shoulder to call out ‘thank you!’, but as you do you see Brian hurriedly scribbling something down on a napkin and hopping over the counter, jogging over to your little group. Eddie impatiently taps his foot as Jeff reads the ticket, searching for the room number, and he audibly groans when Brian catches up to you guys and clears his throat.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name,” he says, clearly talking to you alone.

“She didn’t throw it,” Eddie deadpans with his arm still tight around your middle, glaring at the boy with a death stare rivaling Jack Torrance.

You elbow him off and introduce yourself before stepping away and motioning for Brian to follow you with a tilt of your head. He does, of course, and Eddie watches on while silently fuming. The employee seems like a sweet enough guy, and you feel slightly guilty allowing him to think that his advances are working, but you don’t let yourself feel too bad considering he’s handsome enough that he should be able to get over it fairly quickly. He tells you he doesn’t want to keep you from your friends for too long, but you were the prettiest girl he had seen all night and he just had to say something. The conversation is short, and ends with him handing you his phone number neatly scrawled in red ink on a brown napkin. Smiling at you one last time, he says goodbye then walks back behind the counter. You turn to see Eddie standing alone and glaring at him, jean vest still on but now holding his leather jacket in his hands. You pocket the number you have no intention of using and walk over, trying to keep any hint of smugness from your face. He shoves the jacket into your hold and takes your elbow in his grasp, ignoring your cries of confusion.

“Put that on, wait until fifteen minutes into the movie, then take it off and lay it on your lap,” he orders, his eyes never meeting yours.

Although his request doesn’t make any sense, you do as he says without protest. Wearing Eddie’s clothes always made you feel fuzzy inside, so you took any chance you could get. You especially love wearing his jacket, as cliche as that sounds, but rarely actually make an attempt to borrow it because you like the way it looks on him so much better.

He opens the door for you, not returning your smile as you pass by. The two of you find the guys sitting in a row toward the middle, two seats saved between Gareth and Jeff. Eddie goes first, moving past the already situated guests and making room for you. Credits role while the crowd talks, but the room quiets down as the sound of trumpets fill the air and the 20th Century Fox opening plays on the screen. The opening scenes aren’t the most thrilling for a horror flick, but you wouldn’t be able to fully engross yourself in the film anyway. You’re far too preoccupied wondering what the boy next to you’s plan is. After what is probably sooner than fifteen minutes, you slip the leather off of your shoulders and fold it in your lap. Eddie waits approximately thirty seconds, then places his hand on your thigh under the jacket.

You understand immediately what he’s plotting, and sneak a glance to Jeff on your other side. His attention is thankfully being held by the movie, but you’re not sure that you’ll be able to keep quiet and still enough to not be obvious. Fingers creep further up your leg, slipping under your skirt and teasing the delicate, sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs. A breath hitches in your throat when his pinky brushes your pussy through the fabric of your underwear, and you hear Eddie stifle a laugh next to you. He presses firmer against your slit, rubbing it up and down, already feeling it dampen with your arousal. The fact that these particular panties haven’t been washed since being soiled with his cum has you wetter than you’d like to be this early on in the process. The tug of the cotton catching on your engorged clit makes you moan, and you have to cover it with a cough.

Your panties are pushed to the side and Eddie runs the tip of his ring finger along your soaked lips, collecting your arousal. With the way you’re sitting, he can’t easily slip inside of you, so instead he starts rubbing your clit in quick circles, not giving you time to adjust. You gasp and cover your mouth, but luckily this coincided with a rather shocking and gory shot in the movie, so your reaction went unnoticed. He doesn’t let up, and keeps massaging your clit while secretly stealing glances toward you. When you return his gaze, his pupils are dilated and his lips are moist from him running his tongue over them continuously. Your toes curl and the muscles in your calf tense as the sensations threaten to peak.

You push Eddie’s jacket (and his hand) away from you as you stand to maneuver your way down the row, whispering to Jeff something about needing the restroom. There’s grumbling from behind you, and when you turn to look you see your fellow moviegoers frustratedly lifting their knees and popcorn buckets up to make room for Eddie to follow, his jacket forgotten on the sticky floor.

He jogs down the aisle to catch up to you, and his touch meets your lower back as he urges you forward toward the exit, almost pushing you in his haste. The brightness of the theater hallway has your eyes blinking to adjust, but Eddie spares no second and simply continues leading you with his hands bunching up the fabric of the shirt you borrowed from him. He walks you past the bathroom doors, and out through an emergency fire exit at the end of the hall. It leads to the back of the building, which faces the woods and has a small parking lot that is currently devoid of cars. Outside, the air is humid and heavy, not only due to the density but also anticipation. The only light source is a flickering bulb by the doorframe, along with the dim glow from the waning moon. From the evidence of all the cigarette butts littered on the dirt it would seem that this area is only used for employee’s smoke breaks, granting you the peace of mind that the two of you have at least some semblance of privacy.

Suddenly, you’re pushed up against the wall. The thin fabric on your back does nothing to protect you from the harshness of the bricks beneath, and the rough texture digs into your skin uncomfortably. It’s difficult to care about this, however, when Eddie has your head cradled in his hand, the other on the dip of your waist, and is kissing you deeply. His lips are not gentle on yours, he’s pressing them to you firmly and with passion, and you instantly melt against him. Your arms wrap around his neck, your hands tangled in his wild hair and you hold onto him as if you’re afraid of him floating away. His tongue forces your lips open and enters your mouth, and you feel it vibrating as he moans into you.

“You thought you could just make me jealous and I wouldn’t do anything about it, princess?” he asks as he pulls away, only to yank the t-shirt you’re wearing as far down as he can and start attacking your collarbone with his teeth. “Thought I wouldn’t know what little game you were playing? I wouldn’t know that you were trying to rile me up?”

The wetness in your panties and the ache in your belly is growing more uncomfortable with every passing moment. “Eds, please, I need you,” you whine, trying your best to grind down on Eddie’s thigh.

“Oh, I know you do, sweetheart,” he replies, hiking up your skirt and forcing your panties to one side.

His middle and index finger plunge into you easily thanks to the previous (and humiliatingly public) foreplay. Your hips start bucking against his movements, desperately searching for your release. Wanting to return the favor, your hand falls from his shoulder down his front, until it reaches his jean’s zipper. You unbutton them and pull his hardening cock out, quickly wrapping your fist around it and pumping with a rhythm matching his own. It’s warm and thick, and your mind races at the thought of it inside you, his girth stretching you out and feeling so right. His forehead buries into your neck as he groans out in relief.

“Eddie,” you moan wantonly, “that feels so good…” You can’t believe this is happening here, in the dark behind your local theater, while your friends are probably concerned and curious as to where you two ran off to.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asked, his hold on you unrelenting, “To be treated like a whore? To be treated like my whore?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp out as he hits your g-spot. He must realize this as well, as he smirks and angles his hand to hit that same spot over and over again.

“Just tell me the truth,” he says, “Tell me you wanted this.”

“F- fuck, Eddie!” you whine. His fingers are now fucking in and out of you with no mercy, and your hand on his cock can barely keep up. “I- I wanted this, okay? I wanted this.”

He smiles sweetly at you. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, then kisses you softly.

Your climax crashes over you in waves, too quickly for you to even give warning. His lips continue moving against yours throughout it, even when your jaw drops and you can’t quite return the kiss fully. You feel a wet warmth hit the front of your thighs, different from the one in between them, and with Eddie grunting into your mouth you realize he’s cumming on you. While it wasn’t the first time you’ve witnessed him orgasm (he came in his pants a couple of times when your make out sessions escalated into dry humping), it was the first time his seed actually ever made contact with your skin. The feeling of him dripping down your leg and over your knee only prolongs your own orgasm, and with his fingers still massaging that spongy spot inside you it soon becomes too much to bear. Tears well up in your eyes as you try to quiet your screams of pleasure, worried about a worker inside hearing and coming to investigate.

There’s no protest from him when you let go of his softening cock and push him away from your center, too sensitive to go any longer. Instead, he eagerly assists in removing his hand and pulls away from the kiss to suck his middle and index finger into his mouth, making the most obscene slurping noise you’ve ever heard. You watch as his eyes roll back in his head and his hand on your back curls into a tight fist, his nails scratching you along the way. He moans loud and deep, and without thinking you swipe some of the semen left on your leg up with your thumb and pop that into your own mouth, desperately wanting to join him in this gratification. The salty sweet taste has your knees buckling, and you would have fallen if not for his hold on you.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers around his fingers before taking them out and wrapping his arm around you, pulling you tighter against him. “You taste so fucking good. You already tasted amazing when I was sucking on your panties, but it’s so much better from the source.”

The ridiculousness of that sentence breaks you from your post-orgasmic trance and you laugh as you shove him off of you. He stumbles back, laughing with you.

“I don’t know if you’ll want to sit through the rest of the movie. Maybe we should leave and go to my place?” he suggests, eyeing you up and down with a smirk.

“Oh?” you say, grinning wide while you think about what he’s insinuating.

“Well, I just don’t think you’ll wanna be seen like… that,” he clarifies, pointing to your skirt.

When you look down, you realize Eddie dirtied your black skirt when he finished on you. He laughs and your face flushes as you try to cover the embarrassing stains with your hands.

“Head back to the van,” he says, tossing the keys your way. You catch them midair as he continues, “I’m gonna go grab my jacket and tell the guys you were feeling sick or something.”

“Sounds good,” you nod, giving him one last quick kiss before he opens the door and leaves you alone. Making your way around the side of the building to the front parking lot, you anxiously mentally prepare for what’s in store later tonight.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

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vintageshanny · 4 months

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Waiting for Love - Part Nine

There’s No Escaping

Content: March-April 1971, some smut and a lot of fluff. There will probably be a bit of angst in the next chapter if you bear with me. 18+

I have embedded a link here and within the story to my one shot For the First Time, since Elvis is recollecting his first experience.

Catch up on the series here: Waiting for Love

Late March 1971

“So, he’s really insisting on paying for your apartment?” Roxanne’s voice held a note of disbelief. “When you first told me that, I thought for sure he was just feeding you a line.”

“No, he actually was really upset when I told him I was looking for a new job or that I could move in with you. He wants to take care of me.” A little smile spread across Vivien’s lips as she remembered their conversation in the hospital bed. Their conversation and everything that came after… She tried not to blush as she thought about the sound of his moaning as he pulsed in her hand.

“Wow. He wants you to be a kept woman and you’re not even doing the deed yet?”

Vivien could feel the blush engulfing her now as she bit down on her bottom lip and looked away.

“Wait a second! Are you kidding me, Vivien? When?” Roxanne demanded, her voice equal parts anger and curiosity.

“Um, when I went to see his shows in Las Vegas,” Vivien whispered, adjusting her glasses and twirling a strand of hair nervously with her fingers.

“Vivien! That was a month ago! I asked you how the trip was, and you looked me in the face and told me it was fine.”

“Well you had just had a big fight with Michael. I didn’t want to gloat about what a magical time I had. Plus I didn’t lie! It was fine. Veeeery fine,” Vivien sighed with a big goofy smile.

“Okay,” Roxanne said, still sounding a little miffed. “Well, Michael and I are fine now, so give me all the juicy details.”

“So, when I first got there, he had picked out this beautiful dress for me to wear to the show…” Vivien started off, her mind drifting back to that evening as she replayed the events leading up to the big moment. “...and when I told him I was ready, he was just so patient and sweet and reassuring. He said he wanted to make sure it was special for me.” Vivien beamed and looked at Roxanne.

“Vivien!” Roxanne scolded. “That was very sweet, but there was not a juicy detail to be heard. How did it feel? How long did it last? Give me something!”

“Rox, you know I don’t like to share all that personal stuff. It feels like, like I’m betraying his confidence. And he already has a hard time knowing who to trust, I can tell.”

“You’re no fun,” Roxanne pouted.

“Okay, I will tell you that it felt amazing,” Vivien compromised. “I didn’t know I’d feel so…overwhelmed with emotion. When he was inside of me, it was like I felt complete. Like a missing piece of me was-”

“Inserted?” Roxanne filled in helpfully.

“Very funny!” Vivien chucked a pillow in Roxanne’s direction. “No, it was just so magical, I don’t know how else to describe it. I started to cry afterward. And he was just so understanding about it. He told me it was really special for him too, and he looked like he was about to cry also.”

“Wow,” Roxanne responded softly, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“What? You think he was putting on an act?”

“No, Viv, no, I just wonder how many women he’s been with and said that to. I’m happy for you, but you know I always worry.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry. I have someone to take care of me now. And I want to take care of him, too. He’s everything I was waiting for.” No amount of negativity could stop Vivien from floating on cloud nine.

*************************************************

Two weeks later

“Elvis?” Vivien asked as she nuzzled her head against his soft fuzzy chest.

“Yes, baby?” Elvis sounded tired but still alert. They were finally curled up in his bed at Graceland after watching movies for half the night at Crosstown Theater. The TV was playing softly, but Vivien had already set her glasses on the nightstand, so everything just looked fuzzy.

She fiddled with the button on his pajama top as Roxanne’s concerns refused to leave her mind. “How many women have you made love to?”

Elvis leaned up a little bit and glanced down at her, but she was very focused on a tiny stray thread coming off his button. He cleared his throat and tried a casual response. “What makes ya ask that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was just curious. And maybe a little worried,” she admitted.

“Honey, ya ain’t got nothin’ ta be worried ‘bout. The past is the past. You’re here now cuz I want ya here.”

“I know. But for me, all these feelings are brand new. You’ve probably had this feeling lots of times, that someone is so special you can’t stop thinking about them. Maybe I’m just one in a long line of special girls.” Vivien swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’ve probably been making love for decades.”

Elvis tried to stifle his laughter at her nervous declarations. “Decades, huh? You’re makin’ me feel old, baby.”

“You know what I mean, though, right? How do you know your feelings for me won’t pass? Did you feel that your first time was this special?”

Elvis quietly reflected back on his first time all those years ago as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over Vivien’s shoulder. “Naw, honey, it was nothin’ like this. I had waited a long time, or at least it felt like a long time. I was ‘bout 19 or so, and I s’pose I jus’ really wanted ta experience what it was like. All these girls throwin’ themselves at me, and I didn’t even know what it was like ta really be with one in that way, y’know. The gal, well she had been around a little bit I think, but she was sweet too. Sweeter than I thought she’d be. She musta guessed how inexperienced I was, but she didn’t make me feel bad ‘bout it.”

VIvien just listened silently as Elvis opened up to her in this way. She could tell from the start that he could be shy and sensitive, but he usually covered it up quickly with little jokes. Now, though, it was like his heart was totally exposed. She didn’t want to speak and spook him back into his defense mechanisms.

“I did feel like it was somethin’ special at the time, but nothin’ like how I feel ‘bout you, Vivien. And the other women, I mean, I can’t give ya an exact count, honey, but it’s probably not so many as people might think. There was a time in the army when I got a little wild I s’pose, tryin’ ta hide my loneliness after…” he trailed off for a second before continuing. “But it didn’t mean anything. And love-makin’ that don’t mean anything, what’s the point in that? It took me a few years really to realize how unfulfilled I was jus’ foolin’ around with whoever happened along. I need a mental, emotional connection to a woman to really be satisfied. And I ain’t never felt so connected ta someone as I do ta you, baby. Ya understand me?”

Vivien nodded, her eyes welling with tears

“Baby, feelings like this, they don’t just pass. Ya got me in your clutches, woman.”

Vivien leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face, right where the little silver roots of his sideburns were growing in. “You’ve got me in yours, too. There’s no escaping.”

Elvis smiled but remained a little bit pensive. “I got a question for you now, baby. Would ya still love me if I weren’t Elvis Presley?”

Confusion flashed across Vivien’s face. “If you weren’t you? Who would you be instead?”

“Naw, I’d still be me, but I wouldn’t be, y’know, superstar Elvis Presley. Maybe I’d be electrician Elvis Presley. Or truck driver Elvis Presley. Or washed-up entertainer Elvis Presley. Or…”

“Okay, I get it,” Vivien smiled as she put a finger to his lips.

“I’m serious honey, what if I jus' decided ta stop tourin’? Would ya still love me?”

“Of course I would. There’s no question in my mind.” Vivien answered without hesitation.

“But when ya came ta meet me, it was because I’m famous, right?” Elvis challenged. “I mean, I know ya said ya were jus’ passin’ by on your way home, but I had some trouble believin’ that,” he added with a little wink.

Vivien blushed and considered how she could explain herself. “Okay, maybe I purposely took that way home hoping I’d get to catch a glimpse of you one day,” she admitted. “But not because you’re famous. Did you ever stop and think how you got so famous?”

“Right place at the right time?” Elvis guessed humbly.

“No, it’s just not possible for that to be the only explanation. Elvis, there’s something in you that touches people’s souls. That’s why they love you. Your voice is a beautiful gift, but it’s that light in you that people are drawn to. Even truck driver Elvis would be able to capture my heart with that light. And your intelligence, your kindness, your goofiness…these are the reasons I love you. Not because they’re gonna vote to name the street after you. Although it will make it a lot easier to remember your address,” Vivien teased.

Elvis chuckled and wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Honey, ya have no idea how much that all means ta me ta hear that. It’s hard always havin’ ta question if people really like ya for yourself or cuz they want somethin’ from ya.”

“Well, I will reassure you as many times as you need to hear it.” Vivien whispered, toying again with the button at his chest.

“Baby, you’re gonna pop that button right off. If ya want me ta take my shirt off, jus’ say so.”

“Okay. I want you to take your shirt off. And everything else.”

Elvis let out the big uninhibited laugh that Vivien loved so much. “Oh yeah? Ya gonna have your way with me?”

Vivien nodded as she eagerly unbuttoned his shirt. “Absolutely. There’s no escaping for you either.” She leaned down and kissed him deeply while her fingertips traced over his exposed chest, drawing a soft moan from his lips.

Elvis pulled her nightie up over her head and let his eyes linger on her bare chest. “Baby, would ya do me a favor? Would ya get on top of me and bounce up and down on me? I wanna see your beautiful body while we make love.”

Vivien nodded shyly. “I would do anything for you.”

She pulled his pajama pants down his legs, exposing his semi-hard penis. As she made her way back up, she stopped to lavish her attention on this magnificent appendage, running her tongue over every inch, savoring the taste of his salty skin in her mouth.

“Oh, dammit baby, c’mere and take me all the way in,” Elvis moaned, reaching for her hands. He helped her balance as she straddled his midsection and slowly, carefully lowered herself onto his dick, consuming him with her warm welcoming pussy.

Vivien somewhat tentatively rocked her hips, unsure of exactly what motions he wanted her to do. She felt a little bit self-conscious as he watched her, his eyes clouding over with lust as he watched her breasts bounce with each movement.

“That’s right baby, jus’ like that.” He grabbed her hips with his large hands and helped her find the right rhythm.

“Oh, God, Elvis,” Vivien cried out as he pushed his hips upwards into her, his dick so deep inside of her she could barely handle the pleasure. Elvis grabbed her hands and helped hold her upright as her body rocked forward in ecstasy.

“Yes, baby, tell me how good it feels,” Elvis moaned as Vivien cried out his name again and again. He could feel his warm seed spurting inside of her as she came down from her high, laying her bare chest against his. “Honey, that was so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, running his long fingers through her hair.

“Mm-hmm,” she responded lazily, her lips pressed against his soft shoulder.

As she finally rolled off and back into the crook of his arm, she smiled a little bit. “Y’know, I was a little surprised that you weren’t even younger your first time. What with you being so handsome and all, every girl probably wanted you.”

Elvis chuckled and closed his eyes, thinking back on his high school days. “Naw baby, I had some dates, but I wasn’t too much of a ladies’ man. People thought I was kind of a weirdo back then.”

“Oh just back then, huh? If only they could see you now,” Vivien teased.

“Hey now woman, I don’t think ya wanna start debatin’ ‘bout who the weirdo is,” Elvis laughed, reaching over to tickle her sides. “Aren’t ya the one who likes ta give Little Elvis a goodnight kiss?”

Vivien giggled. “Oh, speaking of that, I should make sure he’s doing okay. And thank him for the ride.” She inched down to give out some sweet kisses as Elvis let out some strange hybrid noise, half laughing, half moaning.

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo

#elvis #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #Elvis x oc #waiting for love #i love this man

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headfullofpresley · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 3,8K

Series summary: Elvis has worked hard to become the successful adult movie director that he is today and all that hard work is paying off by how well the public reacts to his work and how much money is coming into his bank account, despite the fact that porn is still very much illegal. Working in the adult industry is not something you saw yourself doing despite coming from a place where it always has been out in the open, but you soon find yourself swept up and away by a certain American director and right into the heart of the porn industry. The only question that remains is... will you sink, or will you swim?

Chapter summary: Working on his newest and what he believes his biggest project yet, Elvis flies to Amsterdam to shoot most of it. Everything is going well until he's forced to fire his leading actress on the spot and there's a stop being put to his work. But as he wanders into a cafe for a much needed drink in the bustling city, faith seems to be on his side.

Warnings: porn director!Elvis, European!reader, set in the year 1970 (so some details may be a little off?), obvious mentions of sex/porn etc, mentions of prostitution, Elvis giving reader a lowkey foot rub in public (honestly, he's going to be into feet in this series bc i'm feral), mentions of soft drugs, alcohol consumption.

A/N: hi! this idea was born from an ai but mostly from The Deuce (definitely watch it!), where i took most inspiration from. i'm super excited about this series, and honestly it's giving me a lot of inspiration to write in general again! this is going to be a short series- i'm thinking around 5 parts, but we shall see, hm? no smut in this part, but obvi there will be in future parts, as well as some darker topics. hope y'all enjoy! ❤

masterlist | want to be added to the taglist? just ask!

Who ever said Hollywood was a jungle has obviously never set foot in New York City.

They’ve obviously never experienced what a real concrete jungle is like and they definitely don’t know that the Golden Age of Hollywood has seen its best days. Directors were feeling pressures from the outside – from the public that wanted something different, something more than those cringy movie kisses. The smaller movie theaters were starting to ID their customers because their movies weren’t so family friendly anymore. Establishments that specialized in peep shows were popping out of the ground like weeds. Burlesque clubs were turning into proper stripclubs and people would rather spend their money on naked girls dancing in their faces than on overpriced cocktails at supper clubs.

They didn’t know that the world was changing.

They didn’t know that even though adult entertainment was far from legal, it was one of the most produced and exported and imported products in the country.

They didn’t know. But Elvis Presley did.

Having made his start as a director ten years ago when he was in his early twenties and was nothing but a naive Southern boy from Memphis, he crawled and clawed his way through shitty jobs in New York. From parking cars, to serving drinks in sketchy bars to being a bodyguard at a massage parlor and driving around hookers to their appointments… He’s seen it all, and he’s done it all.

He worked hard to get where he currently was – being one of the most famous porn directors in New York. Everyone knew who he was and everyone respected him. Times Square was home to countless of peep shows, stripclubs and whatnot and you’ll bump into a prostitute every five steps. Elvis never used their services but he was friendly with them, greeting them as if he had known them forever. Which in some girls’ cases, was true.

Most of those girls were looking for a way out, wanting to get off the streets and into the safety of a movie studio, but Elvis has learned from a previous mistake where he hired a girl who had a pimp and the leech tried to get him to pay them more than the other actors. Since then, Elvis stuck to actors and actors only.

The director was doing good for himself, owning his own studio and brand under the name of “Presley Productions”, and living in a spacious apartment in the city, yet he still wanted more.

He wanted to make a movie so good, it would get international attention. He wanted it to be so good that theaters wouldn’t stop showing it and he wanted it to be so damn good that it would get him a shiny, gold award on his shelf.

And whenever Elvis had his mind set on something, he made sure to accomplish whatever it was that he wanted to accomplish.

It would only be a matter of time before Hollywood would get whiff of his work, and who he was, and for him to open up a second studio there. Elvis didn’t believe in “Hollywood first, the world later” though – he was going to knock everyone off their feet, from the housewives in California to the business men in Hong Kong, all at the same time.

The script he had written for his newest movie had been done for months now and all there was left to do was the casting. The process went fairly simple and easy – his main actress was Annette Haven and she was a gorgeous brown eyed brunette, but for some reason he couldn’t get used to her.

Granted, he wasn’t the one playing in the movie and her co-star seemed to have no issues with her, so perhaps he figured he was just being too picky because he was so passionate about this project. Annette was friendly during the first few weeks of filming but as they got to Amsterdam, the sex capital of the world, to shoot most of the movie, her behavior started to change.

She was cranky on set, pranced around like she was the Queen and was late for filming almost every single day. To put it mildly, she was getting on Elvis’s nerves and when she showed up high as a kite one afternoon, the director was done with this girl.

He never was a tiran on set and always made sure everyone was doing okay, but right now it was like a bomb exploded and everyone watched and were awkwardly rooted to their places as Elvis had a go at the main actress and fired her on the spot.

“Take the rest of the day off. We’ll figure things out tomorrow,” he announced to the other actors and the crew. He gave them a bitter smile before he turned around and walked out of the studio they rented, angry and annoyed at the fact he lost a full day of filming, his leading actress and money.

He needed a goddamn drink.

Amsterdam was a crowded, bustling city and in some ways, it was much like New York but it was different in so many ways too. People were a little more laid back here (and he figured the many coffee shops where one definitely was not drinking coffee but getting high at instead had something to do with that) and instead of running into a lady of the night on a street corner, they were placed behind windows in certain areas. The Red Light District, for example. It was crowded with tourists and while there was a long canal outstretched in the middle of the district, there were shops, bars, coffee shops and sexual tinted business lined up on the sides, drawing people’s attention left and right. The infamous windows were located in the alley ways, the red lights that were on indicating a girl was working at the time. While he was definitely no stranger to sex workers and what the normal citizen would call “wildness of it all”, it was like he had stepped into a different world, yet it felt a little bit like home too.

Spotting a typical Dutch brown cafe on a corner, he stepped inside and was welcomed by the loud rumbles of laughter of men shooting pool and sitting at the tables and the bar and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer. Nobody aside from the waitress even spared him a glance as he sat at a table near the window and the second he looked at the girl that came up to him to take his order, a smirk spread across his face. In the middle of August, it was only natural for the girl to be wearing a pair of shorts and he was glad this place didn’t set any strict dress codes for their employees, because Good Lord, those legs looked like they went on for days. He noticed the red heeled sandals she wore on her feet and her fresh pedicure on her toes, drawing him in even more. The way that black little apron was tied around her waist did things to him and as his eyes shamelessly moved further up and noticed the size of her breasts that were filling up the tight top she was wearing, he could only think two things – first, he needed to get his hands on those things. And second, she would be perfect for the movie he was shooting out here.

Annette Haven who?

“Hallo?!” You spoke again, waving your hand in front of the dark haired man that just sat down by the window when he didn’t respond to you the first time. Instead, he was shamelessly checking you out from head to toe and working in a bar in the Red Light District, you were used to it but it still got you a little annoyed at times. At least some men tried to hide it and most men actually spoke, with actual words. As he excused himself in English and scanned the crowd for a second, you realised he wasn’t Dutch and decided to cut him some slack.

Perhaps he really was a creep, but your boss wouldn’t be too happy if a customer walked out without being served.

Happened before, because while other waitresses accepted the bold and creepy men that came to drink almost every single day, your mother had always taught you to stand up for yourself and to not take any shit from anyone.

Besides, this was 1970. What did men expect? For you to drape yourself over their laps and beg them to take you? Absolutely not.

“A beer’s just fine, honey,”

You bit your tongue to ignore the pet name and flashed the American a smile, looking him in the eye. “Anything else? Something to eat maybe?”

Elvis grinned and shook his head, watching you walk away to get his drink. You were a very pretty girl with a very pretty body and he realised he was going to amp up his charm if he wanted to see what was underneath.

And he definitely wanted to see what was underneath.

“There you go,” you said as you came back over to his table and put his beer down in front of him. Before you could make your escape once more, Elvis spoke up.

“You know, your English is pretty good,”

At this, you almost scoffed as you stood up straight and looked at him with a hand on your hip. These Americans were always so full of themselves.

“Thanks. It’s only a language spoken in countries all over the world,” you smiled sarcastically and Elvis grinned in amusement as he leaned his arms on the edge of the table, quirking an eyebrow.

Feisty. He was intrigued.

“I been to Germany back in the day and believe me, they definitely didn’t sound as pretty as you,”

You raised your eyebrows a little at the odd compliment. Didn’t sound as pretty? That was the first time you ever heard something like that. This guy looked exactly what you imagined a pimp to look like – gold rings adorning his fingers, dressed up nicely in a velvet crushed jacket despite the heat outside – yet he used the word “pretty”, instead of something vulgar like most customers did when they’d try to flirt with you.

You knew you had probably judged him too quickly and although you were intrigued by him the same way he was by you, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

“Let me tell you a secret,” you whispered as you leaned down and closer to him a little, looking straight into his eyes, which you noticed were very blue and very pretty. “You’re not in Germany anymore, sir,”

Elvis let out a laugh as you gave his shoulder a playful pat and raised his glass, a sly smirk settling on his features.

“You got that right, honey,”

As you walked away, he didn’t fail to notice the playful smile you threw his way as you looked over your shoulder.

Elvis wasn’t planning on spending half the day in this particular cafe, but for some reason, he was already on his third beer and he just couldn’t leave.

He could say it was because he needed to clear his mind and think of a solution to fix the problem about not having a lead actress anymore, but the little voice in his head told him he was looking right at that exact solution.

You.

He knew it would be risky – you were just a waitress and you probably had never set foot on a movie set in your entire life, let alone an adult movie set, but he couldn’t stop imagining you in front of the camera, in all kinds of positions.

As he watched you move around the place, serving customers, it was almost like he was watching a movie right now. The way you moved so effortlessly on those little heels, the way you avoided customers that were a little too handsy and the way you were laughing with local customers who you’d probably served many times before.

The sound of your laugh was like music to his ears and he wondered how you’d sound while you were being fucked with those gorgeous long legs dangling in the air. Just imagining you moaning in pleasure had a shiver run down his spine.

And while you had pretended you didn’t like Elvis at all and he was just another annoying American tourist, you couldn’t help yourself from glancing into his direction every so often and making your way to his table to ask if he needed anything else.

When you did just that after talking to some locals at the bar, he looked at you and smiled.

“Sit down,” he told you as he nodded to the empty seat across from him as he leaned back in his seat. “Doesn’t the old man give you a break?”

You chuckled softly as he nodded to an older looking, grumpy man in the corner behind the bar. Your boss. He barely did any of the work and just sipped on his beer, watching his waitresses work their asses off.

For a shitty pay, too.

“Hardly,” you admitted honestly with a soft chuckle, noticing that your boss wasn’t paying any attention to you so you sat down opposite the dark haired man that had his eye on you the entire time. “So, what brought you to Amsterdam?”

Elvis was pleasantly surprised as you asked him that. Not only would it give him the chance to keep you at his table longer, but now was also the moment where he would have to tell you what he did. And find out your reaction to it.

So, he just came clean right away. In one way, it was a good test to see how open-minded the Europeans really were.

And if you were a full blown, crazed feminist.

God… please don’t be a fullblown crazed feminist, he prayed mentally.

“I’m here to make a porno.”

A silence lingered between you two, but it only lasted for about three seconds. You nodded your head and chuckled in an amused but friendly manner.

“Are you an actor?”

Thank God.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head a little as he took a sip of his beer, licking his lips. “I’m the director of the movie,”

You leaned your arms on the table and sat on the edge of your seat, crossing your legs under the table as you swung your foot back and forth a little. Elvis looked at the way your breasts were pressed against your arms for a second before looking back at your face, an excited twinkle in his eyes.

“And why are you not directing your movie right now?” You wondered aloud, tilting your head a little.

“Well,” he let out a laugh as he tapped one of his rings against his glass for a second, looking at you. “My leading actress wasn’t as fit for the role as I thought.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as good as a director as you think you are,” you teased with a grin on your face.

At that, Elvis just looked at you with a raised eyebrow. He could tell you were pulling his tail, but perhaps far in the back of his mind… he wondered if that could be the truth. He decided not to let his insecurities get to him though, not right now, and when he felt your swaying foot hit his leg under the table, he reached a hand down and grabbed your ankle. You widened your eyes a little and stared at him as he gave you a cocky grin and removed your shoe, dropping the red heel to the floor before he put your foot in his lap.

You looked around nervously to see if your boss caught onto you slacking yet, but he was still busy with the locals at the bar. Elvis ran his hand down from your ankle to your foot and pressed his thumb against your sole, making you turn back to him and bite your tongue to hold back a small gasp.

While you certainly never let customers touch you, right now you weren’t trying to get away. Nor could you muster up a smart remark to throw at his head. You’d been on your feet all day, wearing those heels, and the little massage he suddenly decided to give you wasn’t entirely unwelcomed.

“I am a great director, sweetheart, trust me..” he grinned as he looked you in the eye, a kind but mischievous gleam in his blue orbs. This man definitely was bold and for the first time in your waitressing “career”, you were enjoying the attention of a customer. And a tourist, at that. “Some people just can’t resist the many coffee shops in the city,”

You chuckled, nodding your head as you tried to focus on the conversation and not his large hand rubbing your foot under the table.

“Ha! Bet she was A-American,” you mentally slapped yourself for the stutter (and the lame reply) but if he noticed it, he didn’t mention it. Instead he just grinned and caressed his short nails across the arch of your foot a little.

“Who said she was American?”

“Well, if she was Dutch, she could’ve.. resisted the tempting clouds of weed,” you countered back with a small, playful grin on your face.

He laughed as he cocked his eyebrow, his eyes staring intently into yours as he found your pressure point and pushed his thumb into it, making you nearly moan out loud right there in the middle of your work place.

You managed to save yourself with a small groan.

“Think you can do better?”

At this point, your face was flushed and he realised he was slowly breaking through that sarcastic façade of yours. Then again, he wasn’t exactly playing fair with the way he was shamelessly giving you a foot rub and while you had genuinely peaked his interest, he was a little desperate too.

He wanted to finish his movie and make sure it was good. It had to be perfect. And he didn’t want to get a professional actress now that he had laid eyes on you.

Porn wasn’t a strange concept to you despite never having been in a porno yourself. You lived in a city where sex was out in the open for everyone to see and consume and while porn was illegal here as much as it was in the States, it was tolerated. Perhaps it wasn’t such a strange idea for you to dip your toes into the world of adult entertainment.

“I know I can do better,” you said confidently, looking over at your boss who looked your way and you quickly pulled your foot out of Elvis’ grip, slipping it back into your heel. “Just tell me when and where,”

Elvis let out a hearty laugh as he widened his eyes at you a little. This had been easier than he expected – you were offering yourself for the job and while that was certainly surprising, he wasn’t complaining at all. You were perfect for this movie and the fact that you were inexperienced in the industry might even be better for the storyline.

After all, the lead girl was supposed to be a little naive and a whole lot of innocent.

You quickly urged him for a phone number and address when you noticed the sour face of your boss staring at you from behind the bar and Elvis quickly scribbled his contact information down on the back of a paper coaster as he realised he didn’t have any business cards on him at the moment. You grasped it from the table and shoved it in your pocket, getting up from your seat.

“Hold up,” he said after he paid for his drinks and you were about to walk off to the bar to get back to work. You felt him grabbing your wrist and you turned around, looking at him as your heartbeat sped up a little. “I didn’t get your name..”

“It’s Y/N,” You told him, gently pulling your arm out of his grip. You wouldn’t mind holding onto him a little longer but you felt your boss’ eyes burning in the back of your head.

“I’m Elvis. Elvis Presley.”

You nodded and flashed him a smile, tapping the back pocket of your shorts where you had put the coaster in. He grinned and nodded, slowly leaving the cafe, hoping you’d call him and go through with this.

A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to work in a shitty place like this.

You watched him go and the entire time your boss was giving you an earful about work ethics as you stood behind the bar, you barely heard the words coming out of his mouth. Quite frankly, you just weren’t paid enough to deal with this. You liked your co-workers but that’s all they were – co-workers. They didn’t pay your bills and neither did your shitty monthly pay that your boss gave you.

You wanted a change. No, you needed a change.

And maybe it was a naive and stupid thing to do, but for some reason, you had trusted that stupid American tourist.

Maybe he wasn’t even a director at all, but the longer your boss went on and on about your behavior, you decided it was worth the risk.

“You know what,” you interrupted him loudly, pulling your apron off and throwing it at his face. “I quit!”

Your boss threw a string of profanities to your head as you opened the cash register and grasped the amount of money he still owed you. He was too slow, and too fat, to stop you and before he could get to you, you were already halfway out the door. Though ofcourse, you didn’t leave without theatrically flipping him off.

You ran down the street, squirming your way through the crowd, and into a phone booth. Closing the door behind you, you fished the coaster out of your pocket and rang the number. You were connected to Elvis’ hotel and then put through to his room after several minutes. As soon as you heard his voice on the other side of the line, you inhaled a sharp breath of air and clenched the phone against your ear.

How bad could the porn industry really be?

The fact that you were a virgin didn’t strike you as a problem. Nobody had to know, did they? You were sure you’d be able to mask it.

Even from the director.

You stared at the people walking by the phone booth and leaned against the glass wall, your next words rolling off your tongue determinedly.

“When do I start?”

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hoosbandewan · 8 months

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THE Billy Taylor Post

I have a love/hate relationship with The Halcyon as a show overall. I don't feel like all of it is written well, but the area in which it definitely excels is Billy Taylor's story. You know, the cutie pie bellboy that Ewan plays and who is always bugging out in all of the gifs we make of him. He's young, he's sweet, and he's insanely adorable.

And his story is also the best in the entire show. In my opinion!!

I also cry whenever I think about Billy for too long but we'll get into that later, hehe.

Spoilers for The Halcyon, btw!

If you haven't seen it, The Halcyon is set at a fancy hotel in London just as WWII has come to Britain. Also, fair warning that this post is a little bit all over the place because I have SO MANY BILLY TAYLOR FEELS

At the start of the show, Billy is seventeen and working at The Halcyon as a bellboy. He's portrayed by Ewan as someone who's maybe a little bit... no thoughts, head empty. I jokingly refer to Billy as having big NPC energy when he's in the background of scenes because it looks like he has radio static going through his head whenever he's not being interacted with. And like to think that it's not because it was Ewan's first gig as an actor. I think Billy genuinely is a little bit daft. He's the baby himbo. He's the golden retriever puppy who isn't the smartest in the room but he makes up for it with hard work and dedication and pure sweetness.

I mean, he's only seventeen and he appears to be one of the higher ranking bellboys at the hotel. He's given important tasks like welcoming ~secret guests to the hotel, showing new hires where to go, and personally taking care of high ranking guests' belongings. He's clearly trusted by the management and is, more importantly, very good at his job.

But, bless his heart... Billy can be kind of a mess. He's forgetful and sometimes just plain thick. He loses the family dog of the lord and lady who own the hotel while taking it out for a walk. (Literally how does that happen. Billy.) He bungles the staff poker game by revealing his hand without realizing. He's also a silly little dumbass when he and a couple of the other hotel staff are at the movie theater and see the lady who owns the hotel (who's there on a !secret date) and he straight up points at her from several aisles back with his eyes all bugging out. Be more obvious, Billy!

Billy is young and naive and maybe not the smartest guy around, but you know what? He's good at what he does (most of the time, lol) and he's a damn hard worker.

He's also someone who knows that people are reluctant to believe in him and he clearly doesn't like that. Billy signs up to join the army the moment he turns eighteen and, although we don't see it, his mum Peggy (who works at the hotel as the telephonist aka switchboard operator) mentions to the hotel general manager that there was a bit of an argument between them over it.

“Do you know why he was so upset that I didn’t want him signing up? He thought I was saying he wasn’t good enough.”

He also gets angry with his mum when his call-up papers do arrive. I know I called him daft before, so I'm giving him credit where credit is due - he actually very cleverly notices that the letter should have gone to his family's house, but it showed up at the hotel instead. And, upon learning that he's been assigned to the Royal Artillery instead of what he wanted - the engineers - he knows it was his mum (with the help of the hotel general manager, but he doesn't know that part) who moved things around so that Billy could stay close to home.

He angrily tells her, "I ain't a child no more," and storms out of the room. Billy wants to prove himself. He wants to be a grown up with responsibilities and he wants to be believed in.

You feel for him, but you also feel for his mum, who is watching her only son grow up and enlist in the war effort. At one point, Peggy mentions that she was only 19 or 20 by the time she'd had Billy, so she was a young mother (and still is!). Her worrying and fretting over him clearly annoys him because he's a teenager, but, god you feel for her. We also learn that Billy's dad, Jim, was drafted to fight in the war so she must be out of her mind with worry. I'll get more into my Billy feels as related to his mum in a bit. But I mean... just look at this line of Peggy's after Billy's joined the army:

“I pray. I fuss. I hold him a little tighter each time I see him."

Before I move on, GOSH, Billy is such a teenager when it comes to his interactions with his mum, lol. He doesn't want her fussing over him or being affectionate. He shrugs her off when she tries to fix his collar. He's reluctant to let her kiss his cheek... but he lets her do it anyway, of course.

Speaking of his family, Billy's relationship with his little sister, Dora, is also so cute and I love them. She tells another character that she doesn't miss him once he's moved out to join the army because she thinks he's "annoying" but she really does love him, lbr. And he's clearly very close with her, too.

At one point, their family home is destroyed in the Blitz so Peggy and Dora move into The Halcyon for a while. Billy watches his sister on mornings that he can get away from his army duties. He carries her around piggyback style. He lets her wear his army hat. He calls her "squirt." They're freaking adorable.

There's also a cute little moment during one of the Blitz raids where Billy's mum and sister are in the hotel shelter and Dora is frightened. Her mum tells her to listen for the sounds of the artillery and says, “That’s our Billy. He’s protecting us.”

And he is. Billy is a protector. He's always looking out for the people he cares about. When Kate, the maid he has a crush on, is SA'd by the Count, Billy angrily confronts him and even points the Count's own fucking gun at him. AND HE PULLS THE TRIGGER. He was about to fucking murder this man for doing what he did to Kate!

Billy is a fucking real one. God, he's the best character.

I don't have anywhere specific to put this, but I wanted to mention how much I love the little detail the writers added in about Billy's handiness and interest in machinery:

He is seen chatting with one of the waiters about the guns they use in the war and is later able to correctly identify the type of German plane flying over the hotel.

Later on in the season, The Halcyon's general manager and head concierge are trying to fix the hotel generator and lamenting that Billy was the one who always maintained it before he left to join the army. (I will come back to this later because omg)

Billy himself mentions to his mum at one point that he's planning on helping a neighbor with some things she needs done in her shelter and that he expects it to be a quick job.

When he joins the army, he's put in charge of operating one of the anti-aircraft guns - directing his fellow soldiers and being the one to manually operate the machine itself.

Now that I think I've covered every other Billy feel, I have to talk about... the worst one. The saddest one. His death. /:

I don't know how to say this without sounding like a complete [Michael Gavey voice] loooser, but I can't really think about Billy and his story in this show for too long without... crying? Oof.

I think that's a testament to just how well written his storyline was in this show. They make you care so fucking much about this sweet, innocent, pure-hearted, good to a fault, daft, brave young man so much that, when he dies in the Blitz, it really fucking hurts.

I swear, thinking about Billy Taylor deals psychic damage to me every time.

And I think that, part of the reason that Billy's death hurts so much is because of how it's shown to us. We all know the famous orange scene between Billy and Kate so I'm sorry for ruining it by making it sad, lol. But that scene ends with Kate telling Billy that she'll meet him the next morning to share the orange with him. So when morning comes and the hotel staff are arriving and see Kate waiting impatiently for "someone" who hasn't arrived, your heart fucking sinks immediately.

They don't even tell us about Billy's death by showing Peggy learning of the news. We're told through Kate's POV. He doesn't show up to their meeting in the morning and, when she arrives for her shift, the staff has been gathered around by the general manager. Only then do we learn that Billy was killed by a parachute mine the night before. And we follow Kate to the same closet where Billy gave her the orange, where she's sobbing and cradling the fruit in her hands.

But what's even sadder is that Billy remains a presence throughout the rest of the show. You, as the viewer, grieve him alongside not only his family, but also the people who knew him and worked with him.

When the hotel loses power during a bombing one night and the general manager and head concierge are trying to fix the generator, they're lost for what to do and even lost for words because Billy was the one who always handled the generator. They end up fixing the thing by taking a wrench and banging the side of it because "That's what Billy used to do." And it works. The generator turns back on thanks to Billy. Thanks to the memory of him. And the concierge look up and says, "Clever lad," as though Billy can hear him.

Of course, Peggy spends the rest of the season grappling with the loss of Billy, too. The other characters mention more than once that she's "talking about Billy as though he's still here" and that it's worrying them. Eventually, the general manager sits down with her and she says that she does know he's gone but that it's so hard to believe because she wants to think that he could just walk through the door at any moment.

But, oh my god, the saddest moment of the show for me... is the moment when Peggy is walking through the hallway in the staff area of the hotel and she sees one of the bellboys walking towards her. He has his head down so his face is in shadow but he's about the same height as Billy... and you can see in Peggy's face that she's allowing herself - just for that one moment - to imagine that it's Billy. To let herself think that he's still alive. You're watching her process the scene before her and seeing her think, "Could it be him?" for those few seconds... until she sees the bellboy's face. And, oh my god, it absolutely wrecks me every single time.

Billy's death is the reason that Peggy gives up the one thing she has left - Dora - and sends her away to the countryside along with the other children who are being evacuated from London. Because she can't bear the thought of losing her last living child.

Billy is the character who shows the audience how cruel and unforgiving the war is. That it can take anyone, no matter how sweet and kind and young and good the person is.

And it illustrates the enormity of the chasm they leave behind.

Billy's loss is felt in everyone, from his family to the people he worked with to the girl he had a crush on. AND IT'S FELT IN ME, TOO, GODDAMN

This was so long and I may not have even touched upon all of my feels but thanks for coming to my Billy Taylor TED Talk. I fucking love him. The writers did an amazing job writing him. 10/10, no notes whatsoever. I cry every single time.

He's such an underrated Ewan character and, I know I haven't mentioned it much, but Ewan's portrayal of him is flawless. He's perfect at capturing all the silliness, daftness, and earnestness that makes up our sweet little Billy!

Tl;dr - Everyone should love Billy Taylor!

Aaaand here's another gif of our sweet boy to end this massive post:

#welcome to my billy taylor ted talk #this is a mixture of billy taylor observations #and billy taylor feels #this character deserves so so so much love #billy taylor #ewan mitchell #the halcyon

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