#this is continued from something I wrote in the tags of a different post

[milo-is-rambling]

I was right I was right I was right she doesn't want to be in the same room as me. l am shaking like a small dog I am angry I am all teeth I am miserable. I just want to be loved I am so broken i just want to be seen. Just look at me just see me alone in my room on my floor. I want her to see me in my element sitting here creating and singing and feel love for me somewhere. Can she love me when I'm happy? Is she only capable of loving me when I have to pull the words from between her teeth myself? She only loves me when l'm sobbing and telling her how unlovable I am. she only loves me when it will stop me from killing myself. Why can't she love me when l'm happy. I am losing my mind. I am just a project to her I am something she can fix and I don't need fixing. I need a mother. I need family. I need love. She says she loves me tonight before she goes into bed. Yes she tells me but she says it as if she’s reciting a script. Says it as if she’s forgotten what the words mean. She says it as if it’s an inside joke I’m not a part of. Everything she says is see through. She’s speaking in code. Goodnight. I love you. (dont listen to me cry when I close this door, just go to bed) goodnight I love you. (please take your meds so I can stop worrying about you) goodnight I love you. (get a job and get out of my house) good night I love you (I wish I had died and not your father) good night I love you (don’t be dead when I wake up) good night I love you (I am going to sleep and you are my child. you are a mirror of all I could have been and I hate you for it, but you are all I have now. I need you.) she tells me she loves me and I realize that I am crumbling visibly once again. She can tell I’m falling apart. But I still feel warm in my chest hearing the words. She only loves me when I’m disappointing her.

[xxchumanixx]

Hii, can you write one with reader that is Tim’s rookie, she is really flirty and an extrovert with him, but one day she sets him up, like Lucy did. He gets upset because he feels like she led him on and then he starts a full on love confession because she is the one he wants. And then smut, very sweet with her kinda dom but both of them are switch

Lead me on

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight fingering, fluff, angst, hurt

Word count: 4.545

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! Really liked the idea, and I hope you'll like how I wrote it. Im glad to find my way back to writing your requests and I hope that I'll be a bit quicker with posting again!

Now, enjoy!

Tim had noticed that you were lost in thought, for the third time this shift.

He'd seen you chew on your bottom lip, worrying about you drawing crimson, so hard you'd bitten down on the soft cushion.

It made him wonder what had you so deeply thinking, as he bit on his own lip.

"Everything okay?" he breached the silence, only then noticing how heavy it had been weighing in the air between you. Looking up from the dark display of your phone, you nodded.

"I'm just thinking about something, nothing important." you tried to soothe his worry, sending him a small smile that was meant to reassure him.

He cocked a brow, reading you like an open book. "Don't lie to me, boot."

You hated the nickname, instead wanting him to call you different names - very different ones.

Swallowing, you looked back down. You had to at least test it, see how he'd react. So you gathered all your nerves, reminding yourself, that you wanted to do this as a prank.

It was meant to be funny, after all.

"You said I could be open with you." you began, fumbling with your phone in your hands. He nodded, motioning for you to continue, as you hesitated.

"I have feelings for you."

The shop skidded to a stop on the empty street, as he suddenly slammed the breaks, the seat belt holding you firmly in place. Shock was clear as day on his face, as he looked at you, before he gathered himself enough to park at the sidewalk.

You had to be out of your damn mind, he thought, his heart - unbeknownst to him - matching the racing of yours.

The sudden movement when he stopped the car again, almost had you laughing despite everything, ruining the prank. But the shock on his face, made you swallow.

Maybe he wouldn't find it as funny as you would do. At least you hoped you would at the end of the day.

"Wait-" he asked of you, his tongue brushing over his lower lip in uneasiness. He didn't know how to react properly, you had hit him like a truck with your confession.

"Y/N-" he began, taking a deep breath, as he tried to make sense of the situation, get a hold of it. "Look, you're a beautiful woman - really you are. But you're my rookie, a-and-" he had to stop himself, biting his lip.

This had to be a bad joke.

You did the same, your lip hurting as you bit down to stop yourself from laughing, teeth almost drawing blood. Even if you actually had feelings for him, the moment he would find out you're pranking him, would still be priceless.

The silence grew tense, as the playfulness of the situation slowly faded, though.

Maybe you shouldn't have done this.

He swallowed, you heard it. "Tim-" "Y/N-" you interrupted each other, both closing your mouths.

"I'll go first." you decided before he was able to speak up again, taking a shaky breath. "It was a prank - or at least it was supposed to be one. It should have been funny, but it wasn't. I'm sorry."

He inhaled sharply, as he abruptly turned his head away from you.

That was not how you expected him to react.

Swallowing, you kneaded your hands, the phone tugged away under your thigh. Were you supposed to say something?

Before you could, though, he turned back around sharply, gaze hardened as he fumed silently, with his tongue nudging against the inside of his cheek.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he then suddenly snapped, causing you to flinch in your seat.

Yeah, you had definitely crossed a line there.

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself in case he would miss when the radio turned on - failing miserably.

"What do you mean you wanted to prank me? Telling me that you have feelings for me, practically running me over like a bus with your confession! What did you think you were doing? What did you expect?"

You were taken aback by his sudden outburst, not sure how to react. Or how to make up for it, if you'd get out of this alive in the first place.

"I-I-" you stuttered, looking down on your fidgeting hands. "I didn't mean to upset you like that, really. I thought you'd find it funny."

His brows twitched, as did his mouth. He felt like you'd just ran him over again with that damn bus.

"But it isn't." he stated, gaze fixed on you. "It isn't funny. For a moment I thought you'd mean what you said. But then you tell me it's a prank."

He almost sounded hurt, somehow.

Turning away from him, you bit on your cheek, the flesh already raw from all the biting. It was a nervous habit of yours, one you weren't able to get rid of.

Your cheeks burned, most likely turning a deep shade of red.

Honestly, you had expected a lot, but not this.

Lucy had told you how he reacted when she did it - okay, maybe it wasn't original to copy her prank, but she told you how funny it was, so you thought what could go wrong?

A lot, apparently.

But why did he react so differently now?

You were a mere inch away from leaving the car, quitting your job. It was so embarrassing, and you were sure you'd never recover from this.

The silence grew more tense the more time passed, as neither of you knew what to say.

Would he report you? Get you fired? He had your fate in his hands, after all.

"I'm sorry." you pressed out through clenched teeth, trying to not burst into tears. The fact that he reacted that way, made you even more insecure about your feelings for him.

If he'd react like this, getting angry at you, when you'd tell him honestly, you didn't know what you would do.

He forced the car to move again, angrily shifting it into drive, before you drove down the quiet street.

He didn't even react to you trying to apologize.

Breathing in shakily, you looked out at the street, straightening your posture. You had to be attentive. If you'd miss anything, it surely wouldn't help his sour mood.

For a while it was quiet, and for the first time since you drove with Tim, you were happy about your shift ending soon, as the sun settled.

When he parked the car in the garage, you hastily climbed out, opening the trunk to gather the bags and guns. He stayed in his seat, only leaving the car when you closed the trunk again.

Without sparing him another glance, you walked to the output, handing Jerry the items with a forced smile.

The old man didn't know what happened, so you tried to be as calm as possible.

Walking to the locker room, you hurried to get changed, stuffing your things into your backpack, before you slung it over your shoulder.

You didn't wait for Lucy, as you'd normally would when your shifts ended at the same time, instead walking straight towards the exit.

How would the following day get? Would he stay angry at you? Would he ask to be replaced as your TO?

You desperately hoped not, even if you'd never be able to look into his eyes again.

Wiping at your eyes, you put the backpack on the passenger's seat, slamming the door shut, before walking around the car to get inside.

"Y/N!" you heard someone call out your name, panicking as you realized it was Tim, who'd been standing at his truck, now walking towards you.

You hadn't seen him before in the darkness of the parking lot.

It was out of instinct, that you climbed inside the car, starting it, before you hastily moved out of the parking lot.

He knew you'd heard him, your eyes had found his after he'd called out to you. That you were ignoring him now, driving past him, as he stood speechless where your car had been parked, caused his heart to crack.

Had he scared you off?

He was sure he'd upset you, there was no denying it, but that you simply ignored him and chose to flee instead, made him feel all the more insecure.

His heartbeat felt cold in his chest, as he gripped the straps of his backpack tighter.

He had to follow you.

And so he did.

After a few turns, you saw his headlights behind you - his car familiar enough to recognize them. Groaning, you tried to concentrate on the street, ignoring him for the moment, as your heart picked up its pace and your hands began to sweat.

When you eventually parked in your driveway, he parked right behind you, effectively blocking your car, so there was no way for you to escape him again.

Or better yet, flee again.

Now angry, you got out of your car, walking straight towards him as he did the same.

"What do you want?" you asked, frustration seeping out of your pores. "I want to talk." he gave back just as evenly frustrated, stopping a few feet away from you. "I wanted to talk back at the parking lot, but you just drove away."

Your cheeks grew uncomfortably hot, gaze shifting from Tim to the ground beneath him. It seemed so ridiculous to you now, the way you chose to flee instead of letting him confront you.

He would have either way.

A humorless chuckle left you, followed by another. "And now?" you wanted to know, looking back up at him with crossed arms. "Do you want me to tell you I'm sorry? I already did. It was just a stupid prank, I don't even know why you followed me or what you wanna talk about."

Your self defenses flickered to life, not sure what he wanted to hear from you.

His jaw ticked, teeth gritting.

"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked, shaking his head as a look you weren't able to place passed over his features. "Did you lead me on?"

Your brows knitted together in confusion, not fully understanding him. "What do you mean, leading you on?"

He huffed, taking a small step closer, causing you to swallow at the nerves bubbling up inside you, trying to fight them.

"I mean the constant flirting, the way you talk to me." he started to explain, taking another step closer. "The way your hand would brush mine, a simple touch so irrelevant, yet so important. The way you made me-"

He cut himself off, the sentence being left hanging in the air. But you wanted to know the rest of it, wanted to know why he was saying these things.

"Made you what?" you demanded to know, head tilting as your brows furrowed even more.

The light on your porch went out, engulfing you in darkness, but with a flick of your hand it came back to life, illuminating his features in the golden hue again.

Illuminating how painfully handsome he was.

Instead of answering your question, he decided otherwise.

"I believed you, when you told me you have feelings for me." he began, swallowing, as one of his hands balled into a fist at his side. "I believed you and I hoped for it to be true. But then you tell me it's a prank - I-"

He cut himself off again, shaking his head in disappointment, as his eyes looked away. He bit his lip, tearing at the soft cushion so hard, it almost ripped.

Meanwhile, your heart seemed to have caught on fire. You didn't quite get what he wanted to say, yet, but your body grew warmer, the more he spoke.

He ignited the smallest flame of hope inside you. It licked at your heartstrings dangerously, threatening to burn you at any moment.

"I got defensive, pushing you away." he eventually continued, looking back up. The fire in his eyes seemed diminished, their light faded.

"I was angry - to be honest I still am. I wanted to wait for your training to be over, before I- Before I would ask you out on a date."

Your breath hitched in your throat, body involuntarily taking a step back, as the force of his words hit you, setting the small flame ablaze. It momentarily knocked the air out of your lungs, the blood pumping loudly in your ears.

You must have misheard him - that was the only explanation.

He had planned to ask you out on a date?

Tears welled up in your eyes, a horrible realization settling in your stomach, quickly drowning the growing flame: you had scared him off, hurt his feelings.

It was a feeling you didn't like - not at all.

You wanted to say something, but he was faster.

"All this time I thought your flirts and the things you did were intentional, had a meaning. But now I know, that I was wrong. All you did was lead me on, making me believe that you felt the same way, but I was wrong."

"Tim-" you dared to speak up, interrupting him as you took a step back towards him. The words got stuck in your throat, though.

Would he even believe you?

He shook his head, biting his cheek, drawing blood. But he didn't even flinch at the sting it brought, instead breathing it in, to distract him from the turmoil of feelings raging inside him.

"I was so excited, because I was happy that your training is over soon." he continued, breathing in through his nose deeply, as his voice shook the slightest bit. "I was excited, because the waiting would have finally been over. But - again - I was wrong. I have feelings for you, and you decided to make my heart leap out of my chest, just so you could crush it all in the same breath."

You felt like he'd slapped you across the face. His words sent a chill down your spine, knowing that he wouldn't easily forgive you, if he even would in the first place.

"Made you what?" you rasped out, choking on your tears as you demanded an answer for your earlier question. He tensed, swallowing, before he finally answered.

"Made me fall in love with you."

One of the tears spilled, followed by another and another. Eyes closing, your head hang low. His confession was what you had hoped to hear for the last months, almost a year, yet it crushed you, groping at you with iron claws.

One stupid prank had ruined everything.

Eyes opening again, you lifted them, meeting his. His gaze was glued to you, even when you hadn't been looking at him. He seemed like he demanded an answer, yet fearing what it would be.

"You are in love with me?" you choked out, hands trembling. Your heart nearly stumbled, having trouble to believe him, but he nodded.

"I'm in love with you, too." you confessed, even though it might have been too late now. "Have been for almost a year now."

Something flashed through his eyes, the light of your porch going out again, before he brought it back to life with a wave if his arm.

Suddenly, he was way closer than before, having used the moment of distraction.

"Say it again." he breathed out, hope making his eyes glitter. "I'm in love with you." you repeated, relishing in the way it made his eyes flutter closed briefly. "Again." he whispered, hands finding yours.

"I'm in love with you, Tim Bradford."

He inhaled sharply, his grip on your hands tightening. "Why did you prank me?" he wanted to know, reigniting the guilt inside you. Sighing, you looked down.

"It was Lucy's idea." you admitted, biting your tear stained lip, tasting the salt. "She told me about how she did it last year, so I thought I could test the waters with it. But you reacted so badly, that I decided to leave it as a prank, not telling you the real intention I had."

"I wanted to be the first." he spoke, tugging at your hands slightly, pulling you closer, as your eyes found their way back to his. "I wanted to ask you out on a date, tell you how I feel. I wanted it to be something special."

Swallowing, you nodded. Your eyes flickered to his lips, his breath on your own.

"Then make it something special." you said, voice husky.

You didn't have to tell him twice, as his lips found yours in an eager kiss. You inhaled him, as you kissed him back. Your hands entangled from his, finding his neck instead. His own grabbed your waist, tugging you closer.

The wood scraped against your back, as he pushed you against the front door of your house, demanding entrance with his tongue.

You greedily let him in, fumbling for your keys, as you did so, coming up with nothing.

His fingers impatiently brushed your pants pocked, eliciting a hushed giggle from you, as he fumbled for your keys.

"God damn it." he grumbled, braking apart from you, as he didn't find them either. Your brows furrowed, as he jogged to your car, ripping the door open and retrieving the key.

In your hurry to get to him, you had left it in the ignition.

Brushing the hair out of your face, you huffed as he held it up, locking your car, before he stepped around you, opening the door to let you both in.

The intensity of the situation was thick, palpable, as he closed the door behind you, not wasting any time to pull you back to him, his lips back on yours.

He blindly walked you backwards into the open living, kitchen and dining area. Your hips hit the dining table, causing the few things on it to rattle and shake. His hands gripped your thighs, helping you to sit on it.

Yours found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards, as he did the same with yours. Your arms tangled, causing you to break apart.

His eyes narrowed, as he tugged at your shirt meaningfully, but you were too stubborn to let him go first, as you tugged as well.

You stared each other in the eyes, both too stubborn and dominant to give in. His head dipped down, lips finding your neck. He began to suck, causing your eyes to flutter closed, as you momentarily lost focus.

He used the distraction to remove your hands, tugging the shirt over your head.

You huffed breathlessly, realizing how he had distracted you to go first. He chuckled, sending you a smirk that sent sparks down to your core, making your legs weak.

Removing his shirt as well, you let it fall to the floor, before his lips found your neck again, kissing downwards and over the swell of your breasts, as he pushed you down on the table.

Your breathing faltered, as one of his large hands cupped one of your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His thumb brushed over the covered nipple, making you shiver at the distant sensation.

Suppressing a moan, you pushed up on your elbows, as he unfastened your bra, throwing it on the floor, as his mouth attached to one of the hardened peaks.

His tongue swirled around it, tearing a gasp from you, the pleasure sent straight to your core.

Grabbing his shoulder, you pushed him back. He looked at you with confusion, tilting his head, but you continued pushing, until he was sitting down on the chair beside him, as realization struck him.

Chuckling in amusement, he adjusted so he was sitting more comfortably, eagerly reaching for you as you straddled his lap.  

Your hands found his bare chest, tracing over the muscles that contracted underneath your fingertips at the touch. His hands found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

His breathing hitched, as you rolled against his covered erection with your jeans clad core. His grip on you tightened, most likely leaving marks.  

He guided you, as you did it again, softly moaning at the bit of friction it gave you. Pushing down as you did it over and over again, he tried to increase the pressure, his hard-on painfully straining against the fabric of his pants.  

He liked your dominant nature, often having imagined what you’d act like in a situation like this, with unholy thoughts filtering through his mind.  

"Fuck." Tim muttered, hazy from the friction, yet unsatisfied. He tried to regain the upper hand, but you wouldn't let him. Chuckling into his ear, you teased the shell of it with your tongue, his hard-on rocking into you, as he shuddered in response.

Fuck, you were dominant, but so was he.

Letting you continue your movement, he tugged at the button on your jeans, opening it, before he grabbed your ass harshly, causing you to moan into his ear, and he temporarily lost focus at the heavenly sound.

He took you with him as he stood, causing you to yelp slightly in surprise, as he put you back on the table, pushing you down on it, so you were lying on it.

He didn't have the patience to move to another room or surface, as he unzipped your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your panties.

Gasping as the cold air hit your wet cunt, you watched him strip his remaining clothes as well.

He was gorgeous, for all he was worth. Shaped in just the right way, no matter which part of his body.

His lips found yours, as he leaned over you, his fingers parting your folds to collect some of your arousal, before he used it to rub your clit in delicate circles.

You moaned at the feeling, arching into him, as one of his fingers slipped inside you, soon followed by a second, pumping in and out of you, preparing you for his cock, eliciting beautiful sounds from you in which he bathed.

He watched your face as it contorted, teetering on the brink of your first orgasm. Just as you almost made it over the edge, he removed his fingers, using the remaining liquid on them to stroke his cock, aligning it with your entrance.

You fell down the cliff, but on the wrong side, as the build up tension slowly subsided again, leaving you deeply unsatisfied.

He teased you, brushing through your folds with the tip, barely pushing inside. It made you see stars, as you desperately pleaded for more - a stark contrast to the dominance you had emitted only moments ago.

He liked the sound of that even more.

Your pleas were fulfilled, as he suddenly pushed inside, stretching you deliciously. He slowly inched forward, groaning at how tight you gripped him.

You believed to burst, when he filled you to the brim, his hips meeting yours in a chaste kiss, as the tip of his cock lightly brushed your cervix. You moaned, not having expected him to be this big.

His lips attached to your neck, sucking, kissing and nipping, as he waited for your go, hips rutting into you the slightest bit, as he had struggle to compose himself, now that he was finally buried inside your heat.

Your fingertips brushed his nipple and he jerked forward, eyes meeting yours, as you grinned up at him. Shaking his head, he took it as his signal to finally move.

He slid out of your dripping cunt slowly, before he pushed back inside with a snap of his hips, causing you to choke on a breath, gasping afterwards.

His lips parted in a strangled moan, at the way you clenched around him, dragging him closer to the edge with each thrust. He pulled back out, but you clenched down on him on purpose, causing him to rut right back inside you, before he even had a chance to really pull out.

He shook his head at you, laughing quietly, as he smirked down at you.

Two can play this game.

His lips found your nipple, your back arching as he sucked it into his mouth, all the while slowly rocking in and out of you. The pace was brutally soft, teasing you to the brink of tears, as his tongue flicked over the hardened peak.

"Tim..." you breathed out desperately, heels digging into his back to make him move faster. He smirked against your nipple, but complied, as he picked up the pace.

Soon he was pounding into you, the tip of his cock brushing that spongy spot that made you moan his name with each thrust, believing to see stars. You were a panting and moaning mess under him, fully subjected to him.

He groaned and moaned into your ear, as he chased your releases, trying to hold back until you would be coming. His pace was relentless, as he fucked into you, the objects on the table soon tipping over, but neither of you cared.

"I'm close." you announced out of breath, though gasping, as he hit that one spot again. His lips found yours, as his fingers ghosted down your body and to where you were connected, parting your folds to find your clit.

He rubbed circles on it and you cried out, coming hard on his cock. Clenching down on him, you made it even harder for him to move, dragging him over the edge with you, as he moaned your name in bliss.

His warmth filled you up, as he stilled, harshly breathing as he tried to calm his racing heart. Yours seemed like it would never stop racing, lung desperately burning for air.

"Wow." you breathed, still feeling a bit dizzy. He smiled down at you, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Yeah."

You fell silent for a moment, as his eyes searched yours for any sign of regret. But he found none.

"I want you." he admitted, clearing his throat as he shifted his weight on top of you. "I want to go on a date with you."

His words caused you to smile up at him, the happiness spreading through you as you still glowed from your high.

He believed he'd never seen anything this beautiful before.

"I want that too." you admitted, nodding. "I want to go out with you, even if we have to hide for the rest of my training."

His face fell slightly, only then remembering your current situation, before he nodded as well, pecking your lips. "I'm willing to hide with you." he spoke, his hips connecting with yours again as he rocked forward, earning a gasp from you.

He chuckled, lips brushing over your cheek.

"And then, when your training is over and you're officially a p2, we won't have to hide anymore." he continued, kissing down your jaw and to your neck, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"I will tell everyone that you're mine."

Your body shivered pleasantly at his words, sighing in bliss. "I like that idea."

"Good, 'cause now you'll never get rid of me again." he promised you, looking back up into your eyes.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@rookietrek @augustvandyne

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

[bizarrelittlemew]

i was hoping to make a post like this under happier circumstances, but here goes.

as some of you know, everything with the cancellation and renewal campaign has happened right on top of the worst part of my mom's cancer treatment (plus the show was cancelled on my actual birthday 💀). i won't go into details, but it's been tough. lots of ups and downs, mostly downs, luckily ending (for now) on as much of an up as circumstances allow. the whole thing has been weirdly tied to the cancellation for me, kind of amplifying every feeling. the grief got mixed up, and there was so much of it - mourning the loss of the kind of future i thought i'd have with my mother and the time we might not get, mourning the end of a show that means so much to me and is such a big part of my life. different types of grief, sure, and of different magnitudes, but in one big ugly swirl. i sort of had a breakdown right at the start of february, and it was because of news about my mom, but it morphed into my brain telling me everything i'd ever written was shit and wanting to delete it all. stuff like that, spilling over.

anyway. i was holding off on writing this post to see if the show got picked up by someone else. but i still want to say it. because what also spilled over was the support and community from this fandom, and being in this space (despite the rough times and high emotions) helped me through it, because of all of you here. whether we talk regularly, or you left a comforting reply or simply a like on one of my posts about having a hard time (i tried to keep them few), or wrote a nice comment on a fic, or said something funny or nice or insightful in the tags of a gifset, or was active here (or on twt) in any way, talking/sharing/creating stuff about the show - THANK YOU.

you all helped me through all the ups and downs, and i am so grateful. thank you for being here, listening, distracting, helping me feel some joy despite the horrors. i love you and i love this incredible show and all it has brought and will continue to bring and inspire, and although it should go without saying, i'm not going anywhere. just do me a favor and give yourself a big ol' hug from me, and know that you made a difference for some random guy on the internet (but in reality for many more, and for this fandom as a whole, just by being here and being you) 💕

[bengiyo]

BL 2023 Review

I wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about BL for this year. I was originally going to do a The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly framework for it, but that feels meaner than I actually am about it. Instead, I think I’ll just write out some sections and unpack some things I felt along the way.

I Watched Too Much Again

Last year I engaged with about 92 productions around the world. This year it was 99 (I tracked stuff I completed here). Sure I dropped 18 of them this year, but goddamn. The problem with watching as much as I did this year is that I worked full time this year and also maintained a separate hobby. I also continued my twice-weekly watch sessions with my friend Emily, so there are an additional 100-ish watch sessions in here of rewatching, plus a few other rewatches (Theory of Love and My Ride most notably).

One of my struggles at this point is I’m far too familiar with the genre, and find myself feeling impatient and irritable with shows that aren’t to my taste the way I used to. Throughout the late summer and fall I found myself increasingly grumpier about the genre, and it didn’t get better until I had a holiday and basically slept a day to get some energy back. I also found myself growing apart from fans I’ve known and followed a long time. It’s been a difficult year for me as a long-time fan because my tastes, habits, and friendships in the genre have changed even if the amount I watch hasn’t really.

I Wrote a Lot This Year

I recently converted my watch tag away from my gaming internet persona to just my shortname, so all near-1000 of my Stray Thoughts posts can be found under #ben watches now. I’ve also been going back and adding #ben writes to some of the standalone pieces that I really liked. In reviewing them, the pieces I’m happiest about are my ode to Framboise from Kabe Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to Be Recognized, my post begging everyone to watch La Pluie, my post about what it means to actually like queer men, my SBS ep 10 post that ended up being wrong, my post about the Lavender Scare and Be My Favorite, my Tokyo in April is… post about the breaking of the BL line,

However, the two posts I am most proud of is my half-joking response about why I think tagging each other back and forth across Tumblr in our writing is so important. and The Knowing: Being Queer in BL because I had so much great conversations with folks as a result of both of these posts.

Looking back at my own blog, this is probably the most active I’ve been in my entire time on this website, so thank you to everyone who interacted with me this year, because it really is people talking to me that gets me most inspired to write things down. Big shout out to @lurkingshan who will bug me repeatedly until I blog something that I said in passing.

We Started a Podcast!

After hanging out with @shortpplfedup since Bad Buddy, she got inspired and really wanted to bring something different to the BL podcasting sphere. I had time, and liked talking with her enough, so we started @the-conversation-pod. Now we’re a full year into it and planning out future stuff. It’s been so much fun being able to get things off my soul and break poor NiNi in our recording sessions.

From this year, I think my favorite episodes we did were The Moonlight Chicken Episode, the Eighth Sense episode, the ITSAY Anniversary Episodes,  The Wedding Plan episode, , and The Holiday Clip Show. Huge shout out to @ginnymoonbeam for anchoring the transcription process, and @lurkingshan for editing.

The VIIB Awards will begin airing soontm so look forward to that.

Favorite New Term: Business Gay Performance

Let’s be clear, Bump Up Business is not good. It is an obvious BL cash grab from OnlyOneOf that seeks to comment on the fake nature of BL while doing everything it can to trick the audience into believing that the BL pair is real.

Before we got deeper into this year, I was a big fan of a certain pairing, and then their fans took it too far and it affected the way I engaged with their performances and their work. I like that we have a new term for “fanservice” that communicates that you understand that this is for work. (thanks to NiNi for this comparison) I can look at the latest behind the scenes video from Last Twilight and say that I think Sea really understands the work they’re doing, and he and Jimmy have a very relaxed and mature version of BGP without feeling like I’m feeding into shipping.

Do I think they’re dating? No. Do I like the way they fake it? Absolutely!

I can look at one of @respectthepetty posts about Yin and War having personalized, color-coded mics, and we can talk about the next level BGP between the two and both communicate that we know that this is a performance.

It actually makes the extra PR work fun for me again, because now I can just shout “BGP! BGP! BGP!” and it not feel like I’m giving myself brainrot.

Thai BL Needs to Finish Stronger Next Year

Let’s get into some of the show stuff. This year was defined for me by Thai BL starting strong with good premises and then squandering them by not focusing on the details that mattered or leaning into baseless melodrama. Time for some reads. Some of these shows were generally good, but they failed at these things:

609 Bedtime Story: The world building crumpled in the back half and both endings are flat.

A Boss and a Babe: Cher is a pro gamer who worked for a gaming company and there was no plot point about this at all, or collaboration between the two groups.

Bake Me Please: Why was a show about cake so lacking in flavor?

Be Mine SuperStar: You had a real opportunity to explore a fan and idol romance and had Punn show so little growth. I hope the footage of First’s range is helpful now that Ja is out of BL.

Be My Favorite: You redid that whole amusement park date and muddled so much of what the hell happened on that day.

Between Us: You had years to make this interesting. Why are there five pairs and why is the end of this a JC Penny catalog photoshoot?

Dangerous Romance: What the fuck happened to the Sailom we had in episode 1 and 2 before that gun incident?

Hidden Agenda: Tee, what the hell was this? Twelve weeks of this?

I Feel You Linger in the Air: You may be the most beautiful show, with some of the most impressive performances of the year, but you absolutely botched this ending. Finish the goddamn season next time.

Love in Translation: I love you, but that whole kidnapping plot was so stupid at the end.

Low Frequency: I like your OST. That's about it.

My Dear Gangster Oppa: No examination about how gaming friendships become close quickly because of the combination of anonymity and teamwork (shout out to @twig-tea for this excellent summation).

My School President: Saving your gay commentary for the final episode felt like a conservative choice. I want more from you next time.

Naughty Babe: You retconned your own characters to tell a worse story. Unforgiveable.

Never Let Me Go: You didn’t know if you wanted to be a high school BL or a mafia story. It was difficult to watch.

Only Friends: I cannot believe you did Boston like that at the end. Either give Force’s character a clear personality next time, or keep him enigmatic; half measures make him and Book look worse. Sand was absolutely embarrassing. Boeing was a waste. Ending on all of them paired like that felt so unearned.

Step By Step: You forgot to ground Jeng’s external dreams at the end, so the final two episodes are just frustrating.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. We can go into the next year now.

Korea Put in the Work This Year

I really like the efforts from the various Korean studios this year. I really hope we get a Strongberry joint next year, but I want to acknowledge that we had 18 Korean BL dramas I watched this year, and at least three of them I think are must watches: Our Dating Sim, Sing My Crush, and The Eighth Sense. Beyond that, I think Love Tractor, Unintentional Love Story, and A Breeze of Love are easy recommendations.

It’s really impressive how the complaint for me this year with Korean BL is not about them using their time poorly. It’s more about normal drama concerns, where I think characterization is a little weak, or a theme doesn’t land squarely. This rapid iteration from the Korean studios is really impressive to watch, and I’m excited to see what some of the recognized players do next year.

Taiwan and The Philippines Have Been Quiet for Me

I wasn’t really able to connect with much from the Philippines this year except for The Day I Loved You. I never wrote about The Day I Loved You, but this beautiful and heart wrenching show is one of my favorites from this year. I wasn’t too keen on the Oxin Films offerings of this year, and I’m still chasing down the ones from The IdeaFirst Company.

As for Taiwan, this new BL project from the end of the year just isn’t hitting. Kiseki: Dear to Me also ended up really hurting me with the way they used Wayne Song and Huang Chun Chih. I love that angry little man with the white hair, but I’m still salty about Wayne and the general mess of that show.

Japan was Busy This Year

I watched 16 new shows, a few older ones, and a few movies this year from Japan. We haven’t gotten this much from them ever. I continue to love the Drama Shower project from MBS, and my beloved What Did You Eat Yesterday? returned this year. We had pretty stellar outings with Our Dining Table, If It’s With You, and I Cannot Reach You.

I think a third of the Japanese BL I’ve tracked on MDL actually released this year. That’s huge.

Still, I am going to side eye Minato’s Laundromat 2. You were the show that let me down the most this entire year. More than Only Friends, more than Step By Step, and even more than Kiseki. You absolutely blew it. You were telling a great story about a man with an acute case of internalized homophobia coming out of his shell and learning to love his younger partner and you blew it for stupid amnesia nonsense. I will never forgive you for this.

Where Were All the Uncles This Year?

Really, without Jim from Moonlight Chicken, and without the men from What Did You Eat Yesterday? we had an alarming dearth of older gay characters passing on knowledge and wisdom to the youngsters this year. What the hell happened?

Rare Dynamics Won: Second Chance Romance and Friends to Lovers!

We had so much second chance romance this year. It’s really my favorite version of gay romance because gays don’t always have ideal settings when they’re young. We had Our Dating Sim, Individual Circumstances, Jun & Jun, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, Be My Favorite, Love Class Season 2, and A Breeze of Love. I am satisfied.

Friends to Lovers is actually so rare in romance and we have so many to choose from this year! The best examples are I Cannot Reach You and Sing My Crush, but we also have one of the pairs in Love Class Season 2.

Gay Thoughts

I had a couple of ongoing thoughts this year about queerness in BL.

First, I want to return to my post about Sing My Crush and La Pluie, and how I assert that Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes. More than giving men grace to be righteously angry or upset about things, along with letting them express it in ugly ways, I really want to get into how we engage with these shows. I will stop engaging with moralistic reads on characters in 2024. I will no longer engage with asks, reblogs, or meta gripping the fandom where we're judging the moral fiber of the character.

The question that really only matters for me at this point is: Is this act from the character justified from their characterization, the narrative, or genre conventions; and is it interesting? Whether or not the character is good or bad reeks of the lame arguments about good and bad representation, and I am not watching BL like I’m being graded in Sunday school.

The second thing I really want to acknowledge at the end of the year is that the gay sex is finally getting better again. I watched The Novelist this year, and we have taken so long to get back to the space that show took us on the portrayal of male-male intimacy. We are in the genre about people with dicks. It should feel like it. There should be a masculine component there that feels specific to queer intimacy.

I will acknowledge 2 Cutie 2 Pie, A Boss and a Babe, Be Mine SuperStar, Bed Friend, Candy Color Paradox, For Him, I Cannot Reach You, Kiseki: Dear to Me, La Pluie, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Love Mate, Middleman’s Love, Naughty Babe, Only Friends, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, and Wedding Plan for your contributions.

Final Thoughts

I like how broad the genre felt this year, and I enjoyed how much speculative fiction is entering into the conversation. I don’t know how I feel about there being five vampire stories in the works next year, but overall I’m glad that we’re getting more experimental concepts. I’m burnt out on the college engineering BL, and would like to see more shows about working adults.

Despite how grumpy I was for at least three months, I think this has genuinely been one of the best years we’ve ever had in the genre. I made a lot of new friends in BL this year, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all for spending some of your time with me this year and I’ll see you in the next one.

[daddyfroglegs]

hii i wrote this fic a while ago but just got this app again so im gonna post it here too! hope y'all like🙂

Something's Off...

tags: fluff, lil angst, death mention?? idk lmk if i missed anything

Ever since Miguel, your husband, came back home from running errands a few days ago, you can't help but notice that something is off. He's more muscular, his dark brown eyes that now hold a hint of red are more tired than ever, and he looks at you and your daughter like it's the first time he's seen you in years. And does he have..fangs? Slight differences, sure, but differences nonetheless.

You stand in the middle of the living room, about to put something on the TV for you and Gabi to watch. Suddenly, you feel a pair of big arms wrap around your waist from behind and someone's head rest on your shoulder, kissing your neck. You shudder and goosebumps run up your arms as your heart pangs with a feeling you can't quite name.

"I missed you.." Miguel whispers into the crook of your neck, lightly squeezing you tighter and planting another kiss on your neck.

Confusion creeps upon your face as you hesitantly respond, "I missed you, too?"

The man sighs contently, his breath hitting your neck and making you shiver. "Oh, where's Gabi?" He raises his head slightly.

As if cued, Gabi skips in sporting her favorite princess nightgown, babbling about the current drama going on in her second grade class. She stops when she sees Miguel and squeals excitedly. "Papi! You're home!" She giggles, running up to her father. Miguel turns around and beams down at the little girl, scooping her up into his arms. "Ay, mija!" He kisses her face and tickles her sides, and Gabi starts laughing and telling her father to stop.

Your heart sinks as you watch your husband hold Gabi, your mind screaming that something isn't right. However small they may be, the differences keep playing in your head. You look at the father-daughter duo, uncertainty written all over your face.

Miguel continues to play with his daughter and eventually stops tickling her, letting her catch her breath. He chuckles and looks over to you, seeing your expression. "Everything okay, hun?" He notices you staring at him, your gaze filled with hesitation. His eyes widen slightly, realizing that you know something isn't right. "What's wrong?" He asks again, his voice gentle.

You shake your head and plaster a fake smile on your face. "I-nothing, just, um, tired.." You lie through your teeth. "Come on, Gabi. It's late, let's get you to bed, yeah?" You take Gabi from Miguel's arms, quickly carrying the girl to her room. You chuckle softly as she tries to protest going to bed, unaware of Miguel watching you through narrowed eyes.

You lay her down in her princess themed bed, tucking her in and leaving a kiss on her forehead. You turn on her nightlight as you exit the room, closing the door behind you. You begin biting on your fingernails, deep in thought.

You bump into something as you walk, looking up slightly. You didn't hear Miguel walk over. You turn your head, beginning to walk away before the man grabs your chin and turns your head to face him, his eyes searching yours. "Cariño, what is it? What's wrong?" You swear you feel your heart stop, your eyes widening as he leans in to study your face. You stumble back a little, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Uh-nothing! Just, I had a long day?" You continue to lie, deciding it would be best to keep your doubts to yourself, not knowing if the man in front of you is dangerous.

Miguel watches you closely, not convinced. "Hey, don't lie to me. I can tell you're nervous." He moves your head side to side, sighing. "You know, don't you?"

Now you're sure your heart stops, all the color draining from your face as you look up at him. "Look-I don't know who, or what, you are, or where you came from, but you're not him. What did you do with him?" Your voice shakes with fear as you back up again, terrified.

Miguel's eyes widen, shocked at your accusation. What did you do with him? He takes a step closer to you, trying to remain calm and make you understand. You had to know the truth.

"Hermosa, listen to me. I'm not him, it's true." His hands move to cup the sides of your face, making you look at him again. "I'm not him. But you need to understand, I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. Just let me-" You cut him off by shaking your head, struggling in his hands as tears begin to prick your eyes.

"What happened to him?" You continue to struggle. "Let go of me! Please!" A few tears roll down your cheeks as you get more worked up and scared.

Miguel removes his hands from your face, letting you go as you beg him to, tears falling down your face. The sight of you like this makes him want to cry too, all he wants to do is hold you. He takes in a shaky breath, regaining his composure. "Please, sit down. Please listen to me." He pleads with you, his voice cracks slightly as he begs you to hear him out.

You look up at him, still confused and scared. You hesitate, but slowly nod before walking into the living room and sitting on the couch. You hug yourself, your hands squeezing your elbows as you watch him sit across from you. He rubs his hands on his knees, letting out a deep breath. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to believe me when I say I'm telling the truth." He looks into your eyes with full honesty and sincerity, waiting for your response. When you look at him and nod, though still a bit skeptical, his lips curl up into a soft smile before he continues talking. "I'm..from another dimension. Your Miguel, I.." He pauses for a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase it. "I replaced him. Though you seem to have figured that out."

He looks at the ground before looking back to you. Your face contorts with confusion as many questions flood your mind. You hesitate, thinking of what to say first. "That's not-How is that possible?" Is what you decide on, looking at the man across from you with genuine curiosity.

Miguel sighs with relief as you take in the news much better than he thought you would. "I figured you would ask that. Um, my universe is..gone. Destroyed. Erased." You look even more confused but continue to listen. "I had nowhere else to go. When I found this universe, when I saw that you and Gabi were here, I.." His voice trails off and he hangs his head.

You look at the man with pity, sorry for his loss that you're not quite sure you understand. "So then-" He raises his head to look at you again. "So then, where is he? Everything else makes enough sense, I guess, but what happened to him?" You ask, referring to your husband and saving all the questions you have about there being multiple universes for later.

Miguel bites the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and sighing. "To put it simply, he's..he's dead.." He looked at you before closing his eyes. He couldn't bear to to see the immense amount of pain and shock on your face. "He sacrificed himself for the safety of you and Gabi." He opens his eyes after you don't talk for a few moments.

Your heart drops and the reality of his words sets in. You cover your mouth with your hand and place the other over your heart. You can't control the tears that start to stream down your face. You would've rather been told that he's being held captive somewhere, he's in a different dimension, just as confused as you, anything but this. "He..he's gone?" Your voice cracks and your shoulders shake as you let out a choked sob, slightly muffled by the hand still over your mouth.

Miguel gets up from the couch and walks over to sit beside you. He wraps an arm around you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "I know, I know.." He coos, rubbing your shoulder as he comforts you. "I'm here for you and Gabi. You two can count on me, I promise. I've searched through countless amounts of universes to be with you again. I know it'll take time for you to trust me, but I'll be with you every step of the way, if you'll let me.." He looks down at you crying and squeezes your shoulder lightly, letting you know he means every word.

You pause, thinking about it. This man holding you is not your husband, but he is? He feels like him, smells like him, sounds like him, and travelled to another universe just to have another chance with you. After a moment, you lean into his touch, laying your body against his broad chest as tears continue to spill from your eyes.

Miguel lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as you lean against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. He looked up at the ceiling, thanking whatever higher power for the chance to have you in his arms again, even if it had to be like this.

"Mama?" You turn to see Gabi standing by the couch, rubbing her eyes. "What's wrong?" She asks, yawning.

You sit up a little, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Oh, nothing, baby. I was just thinking of this sad movie I watched the other day." It hurts to lie to your daughter, but you decide it's best to save the true reason for another day, if that day ever comes. You pull Gabi into your lap, running your fingers through her curly hair. "What are you doing out of bed, sweetie?"

Gabi sighs and lays on your chest as you play with her hair. "I can't sleep! I told you I'm not tired." She yawns again and you giggle. You're about to get up to take her back to bed before Miguel speaks.

"You want me to get her to sleep?" He offers, looking down at you. "That way you can get some rest?" You look up at the man, still a little uncertain, then nod.

"Mhm, that'd be nice." You sit up slightly as Miguel stands from the couch and takes Gabi off your lap. "Come on, nena. Let's get you back in bed."

He places Gabi on the floor and takes her little hand in his hand, leading her back to her room and helping her get into her bed. "Want me to read you a story?" The girl sleepily nods and Miguel picks a book before starting to read to her.

You sit on the couch, alone in the living room as you take a moment to process what just happened. You sigh and get up from the couch, going to your bedroom. You stop at Gabriella's door, watching Miguel read your daughter a story even though the girl is sound asleep. Your heart pangs with sadness. You walk to your room, sitting on the bed. You run your hand over the side where your husband sleeps, or slept. He's still here, it's just..not him. You feel tears prick your eyes again.

Miguel places a kiss on Gabi's forehead and puts the book he was reading back on her shelf. He leaves the room and closes the door behind him. He walks over to your bedroom and sees you sitting on the bed with a sad expression. "Querida." He whispers and you turn around. "Come here, please." He holds his arms out as you get off the bed and walk over to him.

Miguel raises your chin to look at him before taking your hands in his. "I need you to listen to me." He says, looking deeply into your eyes. "I'm not your Miguel, I know that. I know you're confused and scared, but I would never hurt you, I would do anything for you and Gabi. I will love you if you let me, just, please.." He promises and pleads with you, squeezing your hands.

You look down at his hands holding yours, then back to him. You take a moment to look at his face, seeing the sincerity engraved in his features. The honesty and love for you rooted in every wrinkle, freckle, and perfect imperfection. You move your hands from his and step closer, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and laying your head on his chest.

Miguel gasps, his breath catching in his throat as he looks down at you. It takes a second, but the warmth of your body on his courses through every fiber and vein in his being. He wraps his arms around your body and rests his face on the top of your head, mumbling a small "thank you" into your hair.

You stay like that for a moment, embracing each other. Miguel slowly moves a hand up to your face, softly cupping your cheek. You look up at him.

"Can I, um.." He hesitates, not sure if he should finish his question.

But you nod, leaning in closer, just slightly. Not enough to close the space in between you, but enough so that he can feel your soft breaths hit his lips, enough that he can appreciate every single one of your features up close for the first time in what has been forever. Every moment spent away from you has been an eternity, and he finally has you in the palm of his hand again. You're close enough that he is reminded of how deeply his love for you travels. That if you asked for his heart on a silver platter, he would happily supply you the blade strong enough to tear through his flesh and ribs that have always been made for you. In every dimension, he is made to love you.

He leans in closer, your lips brushing against each other. He looks into your eyes, silently begging for permission.

You breathe out a laugh and close the distance left between the two of you. Your lips connect with his and he makes a noise of surprise. He closes his eyes and pulls you even closer, terrified to let you go. His lips move against yours and he hums, relishing in the feeling of your mouth on his. His tongue darts out and he tastes the flavor of your chapstick, the same in every universe.

You sigh and he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours. You move your hands up, one moving to his neck and the other moving into his hair. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck and stumble backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the bed.

The kiss breaks as you both gasp for air, but you hold each other close nonetheless. Miguel moves his hands down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up. You get the hint and wrap your legs around his hips. He carries you over to the side of the bed and places you onto it, his eyes never leaving yours. You lift the blanket and slide your legs under it as your husband walks around and crawls into the other side of the bed.

Once you're both under the covers, Miguel doesn't waste a second and draws you close to him again. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist.

You both smile softly at the other, appreciating what's in front of you in the darkness of the room.

"I missed you.." Miguel whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I know." You smile and place a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

---

transferring this was HELL so i hope the formatting isn't too bad😭 thank you for reading if you did💓 currently working on another one whenever i got the motivation!!

[tackytigerfic]

Tagged by @wolfpants and @oknowkiss , read their truly excellent lists here and here!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Mornings After - 2.5k, Dron

This is trickier as this was a collab and @sweet-s0rr0w wrote the start, so my first line isn't the opener. Still I'll post it here, I think it was this one.

“She was alright about it,” Ron continued, matter-of-fact, hooking a finger into the elastic waistband of Draco’s underwear, “all things considered.”

Wield Me - Drarry, 10k

“You’re not an easy man to track down,” Harry said from the doorway, where he was leaning like he was meant to be there.

Fledgling - 2.7k, pre-Drarry

Harry hadn’t thought the sling thing through before he left the house, and now his whole back is aching and he keeps whacking people with the unwieldy changing bag that won’t stop slipping off his shoulder.

I Fall on Grass - 3.1k, Drarry

Harry has a garden.

Let Be, Let Be - 10k, Dronarry

The international portkey to Svishtov deposited them right beside the Danube, under the squatting legs of a cargo crane.

Howl - 9k, Drarry

Draco woke up on a Friday morning in a field hospital in Grasmere, without a single memory of how he had got there.

Take the Moon - 15k, Drarry

“I’ll do it, of course I’ll fucking do it,” Draco was saying, which didn’t make any sense, because he was supposed to be at work; maybe Harry was hallucinating him.

The Edge of Something - 1.4k, Drarry

“Well, the good news is that I’m not dead,” Malfoy said, the voice so very much his that it brought Harry out of bed and to his knees.

Far Side - 1k, Drarry

Harry has a photo on his desk; he says it’s his favourite.

Snow on Snow - 1.1k, Drarry

On the first night in the safe house, Harry was woken every hour by church bells.

Conclusion: hmmm I'm not in love with some of these tbh. I have been trying different things in the last year as my main focus is on a long WIP. So no real stylistic coherence. I'm reasonably happy with most of these fics (though not all, i say, eyeing one or two resentfully) but not sure that any of that necessarily translates into the first lines.

Tagging anyone who wants a go! And @boxboxlewis @elskanellis @fluxweeed @maesterchill @mintawasalreadytaken @myrtlefics @skeptiquewrites @sleepstxtic @stationintern @sweet-s0rr0w @teledild0nix if you fancy it?

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[so-many-ocs]

a guide to formatting dialogue (it's harder than you'd think!)

a request from instagram that i'm posting here. buckle up, because this is a long one!

if a spoken sentence ends in a period, don’t use a dialogue tag. either replace the period with a comma or replace the dialogue tag with a separate sentence indicating a related action or description.

incorrect: “I need to go.” he said.

even more incorrect: “I need to go.” He said.

correct: “I need to go,” he said. or “I need to go.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

this rule does not apply to other types of punctuation such as question marks or exclamation points.

leave the dialogue tag lowercase, no matter what. (proper nouns remain capitalized)

incorrect: “When are we leaving?” She asked. ("She asked" is not a complete sentence)

correct: “When are we leaving?” she asked. (the line of dialogue is included in the complete sentence)

when formatting dialogue, you can add natural pauses by breaking up a spoken line with a dialogue tag or an action.

correct: “Wait,” they said. “I feel like this is getting overly complicated.” (within the lines of dialogue, ‘wait’ is its own sentence, so you use a period after ‘they said.’ you can remove the dialogue tag and it would be written like this: “Wait. I feel like this is getting overly complicated.”)

also correct: “I’m running out of sentence ideas,” they muttered, shifting in place, “but writing doesn’t sleep and neither do I.” (if you wrote the dialogue without the tag and action, it would look like this: “I’m running out of sentence ideas, but writing doesn’t sleep and neither do I.” adding the dialogue tag lengthens the natural pause created by the comma. also it’s 3am while i’m writing this. “go to sleep,” you say. to which i say, “did you not read my example sentence?”)

still correct i think (probably but english grammar is a total bitch): “I am going to stop now—” Here, she began rummaging through her bag, before producing a slender vial filled with shimmering liquid, “—and show you something of great importance.” (if you removed the interrupting action, the sentence would be written like this: “I am going to stop now and show you something of great importance.” there is no comma, so the pause being added is for effect, rather than for grammatical purposes. use an em dash (two hyphens, formats like: —) or ellipses (...). additionally, the action is its own separate sentence, rather than being attached to the dialogue as a tag, so it is capitalized.)

an additional note on em dashes: if they are used in a sentence, be it for an interjection, an interruption, a pause, or a secret fourth thing, there is no space before or after the dash. here’s an example from my wip: “Now, though—and overnight, it seemed—the two were acting as a unit, leaving her on the outside.”

if, for whatever reason, a character is speaking in paragraphs, the formatting gets a bit wonky.

“This is going to be the shortest example paragraph ever, but here goes. I am going to write three sentences so this qualifies as a paragraph. Two sentences might also qualify, but I am nothing if not committed to the bit. “New paragraph,” she continued, “same speaker. Wow, look, I incorporated an earlier concept to demonstrate it in a different context. How cool is that? You should totally follow whoever is posting such great writing advice.”

there is no end quote after the first paragraph, but there is a start quote at the beginning of the second paragraph. the end quote comes whenever the speaker is finished. why? i have no idea; i didn’t invent the english language, i just work here.

you can use colons and semicolons in dialogue. it gets a bit awkward, but we’ve just covered paragraph formatting, so how hard can it be?

correct: He asked: “What on earth are you talking about?” (colon in place of a comma when a dialogue tag is placed before the dialogue)

also correct: They said, “It’s getting late, isn't it?” (comma when a dialogue tag is placed before the dialogue)

incorrect: “What on earth are you talking about?”: he asked. (the question mark functions as a comma and eliminates the need for a colon. also, as a rule of thumb, the ending punctuation does not get placed outside of the quotation marks)

still incorrect: He asked; “What on earth are you talking about?” (use a comma)

you can also use colons and semicolons within lines of dialogue (as you would in a normal sentence)

stylistic choices

you do not have to use quotation marks in dialogue, but whatever you choose to do, do it consistently.

For example, some writers format their dialogue in italics, they said. But grammatical and punctuation rules still apply.

Others don’t use italics and just hope people can spot the dialogue or action tags, she supplied. This can get a bit confusing, but I think that’s the point.

— Some use dashes to indicate the start of a line of dialogue, and, of course, the standard varies from place to place and language to language.

‘Still more use single quotes,’ he offered, ‘though I’m not sure why. Maybe it looks better.’

that's it for now! really, you could probably write a book on this topic alone, and cover every minute detail of grammar within dialogue (how would one format an interrobang, i wonder?), but here's a kind-of-basic-but-still-dense guide :)

buy me a ko-fi | what's the deal with radio apocalypse?

[ay0nha]

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (II)

SUMMARY: You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps.  The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours.

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader  

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, smoking, angst, morally gray reader, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.  

A/N: If you saw this originally posted...no you didn’t...I didn’t love the flashback I wrote, so I wrote a different one (which is semi-inspired by this post/idea because I love it, such accuracy @star-writes4​). Thank You @kalllistos for your patience with me <3 I have such a cute idea for the next chapter, so stay tuned hehehe...Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy.

PART I, PART III, PART IV

— Years prior —

“You can join me inside, you know…” You spoke to your shadow, lighter illuminating your face in the dark alley. On your exhale, you continued your invitation, “...You’ll catch a cold out here.”

After a few heartbeats of hesitation and avoiding the growing puddles, Theseus came into the dingy reflection of the neon sign. “Not convinced my kind is welcomed…”

“Like that’s ever stopped you…” Your tinted lips perked. Theseus' apparel was enough to give away his position. Always so poised. “There are some people I’m sure you’re dying to meet...”

“I’m out of my jurisdiction here.” His hands remained in his pockets, a nervous tick that seemed to run in his family. It was a deceiving behavior, as it came across as a part of his confident stature. “...and overdue for a holiday.”

“Of course.”

Theseus’ hair perked at the humidity. The gel struggled to keep the curls at bay while rain pelted the architecture. The heavy pattern created a cool draft through the outside entryways and a whistling that challenged the music emanating from within the small club.

“Don’t look so stiff, Theseus.” You teased, but he had yet to seem very receptive. “You can be anyone you want here.”

He hummed with genuine nature that briefly peeked out. “And who are you tonight?”

Your eyes were always sharp, cutting through him easily. When you were kids, it was enough to scare him off, but Theseus became fortified. Yet, you knew how he worked just as well. He had a knack for easing you into a conversation riddled with hidden questions and desires. It was as if he softened the blow for something that he knew would end poorly.  Your frown began.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Unwavering in your response, you flicked the remnants of your cigarette into the street. Theseus swallowed his scoff at the action, but it only fueled your conviction. “Add it to my list of grievances.”

His gaze was determined, dancing around something obvious. The stack of papers on his desk most likely doubled in his absence. When he saw your name, he was ready to pass it off like any of the others. It hadn’t caught his attention until it ruminated in his mind so long that he spent hours digging through files to confirm that it really was you.

He reminisced about the old school days, expecting clues to reemerge to explain your behavior. Yet, all he could remember was how you were a few years younger—your nose always pointed to the sky in hopes of finding something more interesting than what was before you. The faded memories merged together the longer Theseus dwelled on them.

“You want to know what I think?” He prodded, waiting for your hum of encouragement.  You wore a dress made for dancing, and your lips were painted a sinfully alluring shade of red. Theseus almost succumbed to the distraction. “You’re someone out of their depth.”

There it is, you thought. The pleasantries would only last for so long until Theseus tallied your faults. You knew it was part of a greater protective character, but you’d evolved, and he favored ignoring your independence.

“Oh, Theseus…” You tutted with a sore smile, arms locked together with defensiveness. “...and here I thought you missed me.”

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He moved closer to you, trying to soothe your frown. Holding back from reaching out, Theseus persisted, “If you have a time-turner—

“We’re not in school anymore.” The argument felt juvenile, but you spat your words quickly, unwilling to meet your sentence. “I can handle myself.”

The situation was ironic due to how time ruled the very encounter. It was only a matter of time until Theseus latched onto the rumor that brought him here. And there was only so much time left before his warning would become a threat. The possession of such an item had added weight to your shoulders. It was a new sensation, and the buzz of adrenaline that came with it was irredeemable. It only worsened when you learned it came easily to you. It was a genuine skill.

You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps.  The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours. But you cut him off before he could offer, clipping the argument with the truth.

“It is nice to see you, Theseus.” Just not like this, you omitted. “How’s Newt?”

“Still finding himself in all sorts of…well—you know how Newt…” His hands returned to his pockets as he shuffled slightly. “...those creatures…His creatures are doing well, I suppose…it’s always a fine way of passing time…”

Theseus wasn’t one to ramble nor participate seriously in small talk. Yet, with you mitigating the conversation, it was hard to ease back into what he had come for. Your change in topic wasn’t a distraction at all, just another dig at Theseus’ character.

“You should learn to take people more seriously.” You bit at your own defense veiled by his brother’s prospects. “Maybe then, you’d get what you want.”

The forgotten rain began to pick up. A soft spray that snuck past the protection of the awning begged for you to find warmth inside. You refused to curl into yourself. Instead, you pushed yourself off the brick wall to brush everything into the past.

“Enjoy your holiday, Theseus.”

“Look—” Stopped by your arm, Theseus paused with thought. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing.” You were softer this time, but your furrowed brow still exposed your upset. But it relaxed as Theseus's hand trailed your arm to find your hand.

“I don’t doubt that.” He spoke earnestly.

Quietness followed the slight embrace that you broke after a small squeeze. The contact allowed Theseus to speak freely, but you wouldn’t listen to more. You knew what he would say, and that was enough.

“Let me buy you a drink.” You blamed the barflies stumbling out the door beside you for your sentimentality. Theseus gave you a tentative look you knew you could break. “Just the one…And if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you what I know.” It was a promise. “I’m feeling charitably inclined tonight.”

The tips of Theseus’ fingers continued to tingle despite their loneliness.  His pockets felt cold. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve met someone.”

— Present Day —

You hadn’t believed in love, and you were ready to carry that grudge—until him.

Avery Sinclair.

It wasn’t proper love, proving your skepticism in the emotion correctly. But it was the closest you’ve ever been, would ever be. He charmed you with his intelligence but decidedly made pearl dust a main ingredient in your relationship. It ensured your vision was so muddled you were willing to sacrifice yourself for him. Avery determined your demise before you could even pick up a scent.

The auror, he had told you. Rid us of him.

To this day, the memory was disillusioned by your coerced fidelity. The memory was more of an overlapping feeling. It was like your body wasn’t your own, stepping into an event without an invitation. You could still feel the heat of the fire you started and the desperation of your scream when you were pushed to your knees. Even then, you failed to remember things coherently.

Yet, when your vision finally cleared, only Aurors surrounded you. Theseus fronted the brigade with a grimace that reflected his disdain. You hadn’t known the expression was a mix of pity and guilt due to the fact that his name would be inherently tied to your public conviction. You just felt like you could finally breathe without a struggle.

“Did you hear me?” Theseus prompted you again, pulling you out of a shared past. He noted your gaze drifting, a thousand-yard stare replacing a genuine exchange. “Listen carefully; we only have so much time until—

“This is what your promotion got you.” You observed the spacious office you’d been in. Your tone asked if it was worth it. Your value was reflected in the fine leather seats, the expensive wood desk, and the plaque that named Theseus’ higher position.

Those who transported you expected catastrophe, but you entrusted your silence. You were calculated enough to know when to hold your tongue, but once in the atrium of the Ministry, you could no longer sit so stoically.

Theseus went to say your name, imploring you to focus, but you only challenged him. He held your stare just as strongly, “You underestimate the scale of this.”

“As if that matters...” You frowned only to follow with deeply rooted sarcasm, “...in a system that is so fair and competent.”

Your words were your only defense against something so factual. Although you were in danger, it had yet to actualize and frighten you as it had Theseus. To him, you were ready to give up, engage entirely with the peril Sinclair would unleash. Your indifference only confirmed his sentiments.

Theseus began to pace. With each step, he attempted to restrain his insults. How you looked at him only provoked a wave of pent-up anger, “You have always been so cruel…”

“If I'm cruel, then what does that make you, Theseus?” You were ready for the conversation; your thoughts honed and practiced. “If I'm cruel, then you must be something much worse.”

“I'm trying to help you.” His voice was low, afraid those whispering about your presence—capture—would overhear his admission. In time, you’d learn that his words were genuine, that he was risking more than you realized.

“No.” You spoke definitively, head shaking with refutation. “What you do is selfish. You help with a suffocating hand—

“You don’t get to make this my fault. You chose him.” The silence to follow echoed his regret. You eyed his uncharacteristic agitation as he tried to rectify his mistake.

“Theseus!” A voice boomed, entering the office. Torquil Travers. “There you are, now—This is her?” With a passing look of disgust, he let out another booming statement. “Have you located Sinclair?”

“Yes, sir.” Theseus’ bluntness evaporated the previous argument. Yet, his eyebrow twitched. The micro expression revealed too much. His body contradicted his words.

You rolled your eyes at the formality. After all these years, Theseus still couldn’t shake the nickname that followed him during his younger years—Schoolboy hero.

Suck up, you thought.

“Ensure this gets done.” Travers’ attitude indicated he felt the time in Theseus’ office was already wasted. “Quietly.”

Theseus held a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, sir.”

Time, too, was his concern, and it became obvious the longer Travers remained in his office. You wanted answers of your own, but you could be patient as there were more pressing desires.

“These come off.” You said evenly, gaining the attention of those in the room. Yet, Travers looked around as if your voice was foreign and your presence was no more than a nuisance.

His posture straightened with arrogance, prompting Theseus, “Handle that.”

That. Your position was clarified. You were no longer a person, no longer a witch. You were—that. Theseus felt ill, agreeing once again to his boss’ request before he left. Theseus intentionally kept his back to you, trying to form the words that explained what he had to do—what he was assigned to do. Handling that meant telling you the cuffs were to stay on.

Emotion flooded your chest; you missed your isolation. Solitude made things simpler. Though now there was no choice. You were to be bait; you were meant to lure Sinclair in. It was Theseus’ idea, only as a form of protection and to bide time for him to figure out something more promising.

With a hand tucked in his waistband and the other rubbing across his jaw in thought, Theseus stared ahead at his desk. He seemed at a loss and could only resort to honesty. “I want you to trust me.”

You did. You had. You relied on him in the past. At one point, you would have considered him the only one that had the privilege. You thought he had understood that. Your relationship had naturally ebbed and flowed. It was required when you were such opposites, but mutual respect helped it remain.

Theseus promised he wouldn’t follow you that night, but that was the same night he was no longer a man of his word. For your own good, his own remark nauseated him. It had felt so right at the moment, a moment of long-coming justice, but it was not only a trap for you but for him.

He would never fall for it again. With a weak rasp of the knuckles to his desk, Theseus’ mind settled.  His side was chosen.

Coming close, he crouched down to your seated level. You remained still, his motions far too interesting to pull away. He began trailing your arms until he reached the metal at your wrists. “...You’re not safe with them on.”

You'd grown so accustomed to the weight of the bracelets on your wrists. They weighed you down in every way you could imagine. You learned to move with them smartly, using your magic so strategically that it felt like a chore rather than an extension of yourself. And now, seeing your wrists empty, you fought off a misplaced nostalgia.

You had never meant to become the villain. You just didn't know what else to do.

Theseus watched as your eyes welled with emotion, knowing you’d never let actual tears form. He thought to move forward and bring any sort of comfort to the situation, but you moved quicker than the thought was formed.

“No!–Don’t—”

His breath was lost, the world around him dissolving into a deep color. Your hand gripped his collar, but it felt like he was being pressed hard from all directions. The journey was nauseating and familiar. The surroundings no longer reflected the Ministry, the marble flooring was replaced by puddles, and the air was no longer crisp but heavy with humidity.

Your laugh bubbled, starting slowly with the feeling of surprise that evolved into pure joy. You refused to be tracked by your magic, so you typically abstained. The feeling of magic again was like a feeling of renewal—an electricity that scratched a phantom itch.

You glanced at a flushed Theseus, “...Remember this place?”

[radiosteve]

Something, Everything

Summary: You and Steve Harrington were best friends, and then you were more, and then you weren’t. When it seems like the world is about to end for the fourth time will you be able to set aside the past to help save your friends?

Note: I haven’t posted on here in a super long time, but I’m kind of back! This story is inspired by Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren, which I highly recommend. I’ve changed a lot of the details from the book (especially the timeline) but the basic premise is still there. I just wrote this for fun and it ended up being kinda long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Honey), smut, unprotected sex, dry humping, friends to lovers to enemies(?) to lovers, language, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, death, slowburn, naked photo.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader,  some Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 16.6k

It all started the night Will Byers went missing. Well, actually it started fourteen years ago, but that cold day in early November 1983 kickstarted the chain reaction that brought you here. Face to face with the one and only Steve Harrington. Your ex-best friend, your ex-almost, your ex-something, your ex-everything. 

When you were startled awake by a phone call from your best friend Jonathan Byers asking if you knew where Will was, you instantly knew something was up. You skipped school, sticking by his side as him and Joyce continued their desperate search for any trace of Will. So when Nancy Wheeler squeezed her way in, bringing up monsters without faces and her friend Barb, you tagged along hoping like hell for any sign of Hawkins’ missing persons. You tried to ignore the part when Nancy said Barb was last seen at Steve’s house, and where Nancy so happened to be when Barb went missing.

It wasn’t until after Will’s funeral, when Lucas pulled you aside and told you about the girl they’d been hiding in Mike’s basement, that you got split up from Nancy and Jonathan’s monster hunting. After you were all briefly reunited in the middle school gym, the new dynamic duo secretly slipped away again, carrying out their plan while you stayed unknowingly with the kids. By the time the people from the lab were taken out and the dust settled from Eleven destroying the demogorgon, and seemingly herself, Will had been found and the world felt a little less upside down. 

Jonathan caught you by the arm, pulling you into Will’s hospital room before you could join the others in the waiting room. With a quick ‘what the hell’ look and a mutter about Steve Harrington and nail bats and fire, you gladly took your seat across the room from Will’s bed until he woke up. You managed to avoid Steve again that day, something you had gotten really good at since that one day the previous year, but that bond that formed between you all that week was something that couldn’t be severed. It didn’t matter if you hadn’t seen him at all or that he only jumped into it at the last second. There was now a select group of people that understood why Hawkins was so different from other small towns and that group now contained the both of you.

When Halloween rolled around you took the kids trick or treating while Jonathan went to Tina’s stupid party. He didn’t even try to convince you to go with him. Knowing Steve would be there was enough to keep Jonathan from even thinking about asking you. But when Jonathan and Nancy came up to you with their plan to get justice for Barb, you were all in. When you all finally got back to Hawkins, noticing the romantic shift in the air between your two partners in crime, all hell had seemingly broken loose. And when none other than the devil himself came tramping out of the woods followed behind Dustin, Lucas, and the new girl Max, you knew for sure that nothing good could follow. 

Despite going to the same school, you had managed to narrowly avoid Steve the past few years. You were in upper level courses while he barely coasted by in the lowest classes possible. It was the first time you had seen each other in nearly two years and it was like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs and spilled out onto the pavement below. He looked like he was about to say something when Dustin finally opened the gate and Chief Hopper came speeding out, effectively saving you from having to talk to Steve. Even back at the Byer’s house you found ways to keep him away. When Eleven came to the rescue, Will was no longer possessed, and the gate was closed, you managed to come out of it all without exchanging a single word or even sparing a passing glance. What you didn’t know was that he pestered Dustin with questions about you on the daily and when he dropped Dustin off at the Snowball that year it took all his willpower to tear his eyes off of the glimpse he got of you through the window. 

By the summer you had gotten a job at the record store downtown, running over to the Hawkins Post to visit your favorite couple on your lunch breaks. It didn’t take long to recognize a few regulars at the record store, one of which being Eddie Munson, who so charmingly explained to you one day why he had to repeat his senior year a third time. He was cute, and a good way to take your mind off a certain hairspray obsessed boy that you heard got a job at the new ice cream place in the mall. So you and Eddie became about as casual as causal can be. He even had you pressed against the wall in the record store’s break room when Nancy came barreling in spewing nonsense about exploding rats and chemicals. 

It wasn’t until you were dragged all across Hawkins and nearly killed a few times that you ended up in the mall and saw Steve Harrington’s beaten and bruised face for the second time since sophomore year. Even you had to admit that despite the blood and vomit stains, he looked damn good in that sailor outfit. But even as Steve drove into the side of Billy Hargrove’s car, saving you all from being driven into head on, you still couldn’t let go of the pain he caused you at the end of sophomore year. And when the dust settled and Chief Hopper was thought to be dead, you couldn’t help but avoid him again, slinking away to comfort Max and El. 

Having no money meant staying in Hawkins and going to community college instead of all the out of state schools you had been accepted into. Nancy stepped up, filling as much of the Jonathan sized gap and becoming your best friend when he moved off to California. You told each other all your secrets, including both of your history’s with Steve. By the time spring had rolled around Eddie had become almost as much of a constant in your life as Nancy. Despite never saying those defining words, you somehow still found yourself curled up against him most mornings. It was because of how close you had both become that you woke up to a frantic phone call from Dustin about Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie and Reefer Rick’s. 

As soon as you opened your car door and stepped out onto the pavement, you instantly wished you never picked up the phone. You silently curse yourself for ever entertaining the idea of monster hunting back in 1983 because now you’re stuck with Steve Harrington and this time there’s nowhere to run. Your eyes trace along his figure while you close the distance between you and the others. He’s changed a lot, although you suppose that you have too. His chest fills out those dumb polos a lot better now and his arms are definitely bigger too. His hair is still the same, although maybe a bit longer, but the stubble above his lip is new. You’re pulled from your silent stare by Robin pointing to the boathouse. 

Following along quietly, you can’t help but notice Steve’s eyes flickering over you the same way you had done to him. Even as he jabs an oar into a tarp covered boat, his gaze still catches on you. It isn’t until Eddie has him pinned against the wall with a bottle to his neck that Steve snaps his focus away from you. As everyone shouts at Eddie to let Steve go, he doesn’t listen until he hears your voice.

“Eds, please let him go. We just want to help,” your calm words bring both Eddie and Steve’s eyes to yours. Eddie gives a slight nod, slowly releasing Steve. As much as you know you should rush to Eddie, you find yourself sliding in front of Steve. “Are you ok?” Steve swears that he can feel his heart stop for a second. The last time you ever spoke directly to him was now almost three years ago, and god did he miss the sound of it.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Steve finally managed to barely get out after way too long. You nodded, finally listening to the little voice in your head telling you to get the hell away from Steve and check on Eddie. It isn’t until you’ve crouched down beside Eddie, placing a gentle hand on his arm that you’re reminded of something.

“Are you ok?” your voice rang out into the roaring sound of the classroom. It was the first day of kindergarten and before you sat a red in the face, wailing Steve Harrington. He looked up at you long enough to stop crying for a minute and take you in. You were dressed in a pair of well-loved overalls with a striped t-shirt that was clearly way too big stuffed underneath them. As Steve wiped the tears from his eyes he realized that he hadn’t answered your question.

“I’ve never been away from my mom for this long. I- I miss her,” he squeaked out before fresh tears began to well in his eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed as his face turned red again. 

“Is your mom your best friend?” you sat down in front of him now, crossing your legs so that your knees just barely touched his. Steve thought about it and then slowly nodded his head. “My mommy’s my best friend too. Why don’t we let our mommies be our best friends at home and then we can be each other’s best friends here?” you shot Steve a small smile and noticed that his tears had suddenly stopped.

“My mommy calls me Stevie, so if you’re going to be my best friend you have to call me Stevie too,” Steve sniffled out, wiping his nose with his hand. 

“Well then you have to call me Honey since that’s what my mommy calls me,” you held out your hand for Steve to shake.

“Ok Honey.”

You’re dragged from your thoughts by the sound of Eddie’s unsteady voice as he explains what happened the night before. Eddie’s shaking hands find their way into yours as he tries to calm down. There’s a flicker of a frown on Steve’s lips that he quickly corrects as he eyes Eddie’s hand enclosed around yours. Despite all of Steve’s nagging and prodding, Dustin never disclosed the nature of your and Eddie’s relationship, knowing it would do more harm to Steve than good. Steve’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he hears talk of spells, curses, and Vecna.

“Who’s Vecna?” you can’t help but find his eyes as a now frightened Dustin slowly explains. And you know with each word that spills from his lips that your spring break just got hijacked by freaky monsters and gates and the Upside Down. 

After a while, the rest of the gang takes off on a grocery run, leaving you to stick behind with Eddie. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you walk around the boathouse, silently picking through everything littered around the place. You’re caught off guard when his arms wrap around your waist from behind and his nose buries itself in your neck. 

“I really wish I’d taken you up on your offer to come over and watch a movie on Friday instead. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek before you twist your way around in his arms to face him. 

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t be, but I can guarantee I would’ve been dragged into this one way or another. We’re kind of like a club now except our meetings only really take place just as the world’s about to end.”

“Sounds like a fun club,” the sarcasm drips from Eddie’s words and he leans in, slowly closing the distance between your lips.

“Super fun,” you meet him in the middle, soft lips dancing across his, making him groan as he pulls your body closer. He keeps kissing you as his hands find their way to your ass, giving it a quick slap that causes you to jump a little. Eddie pulls away slowly, just enough to see your face clearly.

“So, you and Harrington?” the question hangs in the air even as your eyebrows furrow and your head shakes side to side.

“What about me and Steve?” you search his face for any sign of what he means, but Eddie’s always been pretty good at hiding his true feelings behind those big doe eyes.

“I know you two have a history. Clearly I have no idea what actually happened because you’re very secretive,” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off. “No, no. You so are. Maybe not about most things, but you are about him. I know we’re not technically dating, but I just want you to know that I’m not the jealous type,” now you’re definitely confused. 

“What are you even talking about?” a small giggle escapes your lips while Eddie’s eyes widen into saucers.

“All I’m saying is that if you and Harrington want to make goo-goo eyes at each other from across the room it won’t bother me,” now you’re fully laughing, and Eddie pulls you tighter to him while a grin breaks out across his lips. “What’s so funny, Honey?”

“Steve and I were not making goo-goo eyes at each other. And honestly you saying you’re not jealous only makes me think that you kinda are jealous,” you manage to stop laughing but you can’t hide the smile etched across your face.

“You wish,” Eddie pulls you in again, gently cupping your cheeks in a smiley kiss that’s quickly interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open. The two of you tear apart and Eddie grabs for his glass bottle again, pulling you behind him. It only takes a second for you both to realize it’s just the others returning from the store with food for Eddie. You don’t miss the way Steve’s gaze lingers on Eddie’s protective hand on your wrist as he files into the boathouse with the others. 

Eddie goes to town munching on the food Dustin graciously handed him while they explain that the cops think he killed Chrissy. Eddie shoots panicked glances your way and Robin tries to comfort him with words but ends up making it worse. Even Steve jumps in and despite your hard glare, he and Dustin do nothing but add on to the sense of hopelessness that now fills the air. It isn’t until you all hear sirens in the distance that they finally shut up and Eddie jumps back under the tarp in the boat. You rush to the window, not noticing Steve close behind, and see the cop cars blowing past Reefer Rick’s house. As you peer up at Steve you know that there’s something else going on. 

You slide into the back of Steve’s BMW with Dustin and Max on either side and Steve hits the gas until you see the red and blue lights approaching in the distance. Being in the middle seat means you're the last out of the car and the last to notice Nancy surrounded by police officers. She offers you all a small wave as your feet carry you forward, past the police barriers, and into her arms. Nancy lets out a small sigh of relief and squeezes her eyes shut at the feeling of your embrace. The others catch up and you move your way into the trailer park, sitting at a picnic table close to Eddie’s trailer. A place you’d been a thousand times, now crossed off with police tape. 

Nancy talks about Fred, Dustin talks about Venca, and you do everything you can to ignore the lingering gaze of Steve Harrington. Your attention snaps back as Max makes the connection between Fred and Chrissy and everyone heads back towards Steve’s car. You follow Nancy as she keeps walking away from the others until you hear Steve’s voice  and turn back around.

“Where are you guys going?” Steve’s question is directed at both of you, but his eyes only flicker over to you.

“There’s just something I want to check out first,” she says pointing over her shoulder towards her car.

“And I’m not letting her out of my sight with all this going on,” you speak up next, glancing towards Nancy to avoid looking at Steve.

“No way it’s too dangerous. There’s safety in numbers. You guys need someone to…” he trails off, turning to throw his keys to Robin. “I’ll stick with these two, you guys take my car and go check out the shrink,” Steve heads over to you and Nancy before Robin chimes in about not having a license. Steve squabbles with them all before Robin makes the executive decision that she’ll join you and Nancy instead. 

Nancy explains her discussion with Wayne Munson and his thoughts on Victor Creel during the drive to the library. While you go along with Nancy’s hunch, knowing she’s usually right, Robin questions each and every detail of the theory. You can tell Nancy’s getting annoyed as you wait for the keys to the basement archives, stifling a laugh when she turns to you with ‘help me’ eyes. 

The three of you search through newspaper after newspaper and you try to tune out Robin as much as you can. She’s nice enough but she talks way more than you remember. Nancy, clearly unable to put up with anymore of Robin’s babbling, goes downstairs to look for more newspaper reels, leaving you with a curious Robin.

“So, Honey…” her voice echoes through the now silent room as you set down the book you were looking through about D&D lore and Vecna.   

“Why’d you call me that?” 

“Everyone calls you that.”

“No, my friends call me that,” Robin opens her mouth in faux shock, bringing a hand to her chest.

“Are we not friends? Wow, you’d think saving the world from a human flesh monster and burning down a mall with someone bonds you for life, but I guess I was wrong,” you can’t help the small smile that crosses your lips at Robin’s theatrics. 

“Alright, we can be friends,” a smile lights up Robin’s face and you mirror it back. 

“Good. As your friend, you have to answer all my questions. Why doesn’t Nancy like me?” your smile drops from your face and your hands start to fiddle with the pages in front of you.

“Nancy likes you just fine.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Her eyes bore into yours. “Plus, what’s that thing the kids all say to each other? Friends don’t lie?” you curse Mike Wheeler under your breath for his stupid insistence on honesty.

“She probably just doesn’t like you because she thinks you’re dating Steve and she has other ideas of who she thinks Steve should be with,” it comes out pretty hushed and embarrassed, but Robin hears every word.

“I’m not with Steve. Not in a million years. He is so far from my type. I’d rather let the human population die out before being with Steve,” Robin’s words flood out in a rush of reassurance.

“You’re not a very good wing woman, you know that?” a smirk graces your lips as Robin’s face flushes. “And you don’t have to worry, I know you’re not with Steve.” Robin raises her eyebrows silently asking you ‘how.’ “Unfortunately I know Steve Harrington well enough to know when he’s interested in a girl and he’s not interested in you.” 

“Do you know Steve well enough to know that he’s interested in you?” your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes meet hers.

“Yeah, I do,” you choke out, your mind stopping with the wisp of a memory. 

“You’re so predictable, I really don’t get how she didn’t see right through you,” Steve puts the phone down and turns to you at the sound of your giggles bouncing throughout the room. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Honey,” Steve’s tone is serious but the smile stretching his lips says otherwise.

“Stevie, please. You use the same moves on every girl. If I had a deeper voice and your dumb polo I could pretend to be you, ask a girl out, and she’d never know the difference,” Steve steps closer to you. You’re sitting on his bed folding the laundry he left in a pile on top of it. 

“Hey my polos are not dumb and I am not predictable,” he sits down on the bed next you, nearly knocking over the pile of sweatshirts you just folded. Steve grabs a shirt from the pile as you laugh at him again.

“You so are. You’ve been asking girls out the same way since third grade. We’re almost eighth graders now, you really should switch it up,” you snag the shirt from his fingers when you notice he can’t fold for shit. “Plus I can easily tell when you like a girl.”

“No, you can’t,” there’s something different about his voice now as he pulls his attention towards you. You brush it off, continuing your focus on his laundry.

“I totally can. You make up excuses to be around her, you laugh at all her jokes, especially when no one else does, you constantly nag everyone to tell you about her when she’s not there, and you get all moody when she’s with other guys.” you cross your arms over your chest and plaster on a satisfied smirk when Steve’s mouth drops open slightly. “See told you I could tell.”

“You do realize that you just described how I am with you, right?” the question hung in the air, and you found your jaw dropping just like Steve’s.

“Stevie,” it comes out as a whisper. Steve’s eyes shift from your eyes to your lips as you take a shaky breath. “Are you- do you like…” Steve silently nods, too afraid of what would happen if he tore his gaze from you. Your heart thuds in your chest and the world falls quiet around you. You’d harbored a crush on Steve ever since you figured out that boys do not indeed have cooties. It bothered you that he asked out other girls and never you, but it wasn’t your place to butt in. You were happy with as much of Steve as he was willing to give you. 

Just as Steve was about to lean in, the phone rang, filling the silence. Without tearing his gaze from yours, Steve reached behind him, grabbing the phone from the nightstand and holding it to his ear. With a quick ‘Harrington residence’ and a muffled response from the other end, Steve handed you the phone. You held it up to your ear, hearing your dad’s quiet voice through the receiver. This pulled you out of your trance, tearing your eyes from Steve, until they fell on the folded clothes before you.

“Can you come home sweetie? I picked up an extra shift and need you to take care of your mom for a little. I can leave you a little money to order a pizza for dinner,” you agreed, hanging up after a promise of being there in 10 minutes. Steve’s gaze roamed over you with a sadness you hadn’t really seen before. 

“I better get going,” you spoke softly, getting up from your place on the bed. The moment was gone. You’d both brush it under the rug like nothing happened. You wish something happened. Steve wished something happened. You collected your things scattered around the room and pulled on your shoes. Reaching out for the doorknob, you turned back, catching Steve’s sad eyes. “Bye Stevie, see you soon,” with that you left, heading downstairs and through the door, out to your bike waiting for you in the grass.

“Honey?” Robin snaps you from your trance and you jump a little in your seat. “I said, Steve never told me what happened with you two, but whatever it is, he seems really sorry. Like down on his knees pleading, crying, snot bubbles dripping down his face, sorry,” you scrunch your nose at the image.

“Are you always this descriptive?” 

“Only when I’m nervous,” Robin gives you an awkward smile as you shrink back into your chair. What the hell is taking Nancy so long?

“No need to be nervous, Robs. And no need to try getting Steve back into my good graces. Our history is, uh well, history. I’ve moved on from it,” she eyes you wearily, trying to read your expression. 

“Moved on enough to be with him again?” you shoot her a glare and she backs down. As you open your mouth to talk, she interrupts you. “I know about you and Eddie. Steve doesn’t, but I do. And I know that you're not really dating so don’t try to make any excuses. If you could just hear him out it could clear this whole thing up and you can live happily ever-” Robin’s sentence is interrupted by Nancy bursting back into the room and you’ve never been more thankful to see her. In her hand she holds the slides for the Weekly Watcher, making you even question her a bit. After scrolling through page after page, Nancy finally stops on a story titled “Victor Creel Claims: Ancient Demon Killed Family.”

“I know that I should’ve learned my lesson by now, but from this point on I’ll never question you again Nancy Wheeler,” you chime in, leaning over Nancy and Robin’s shoulders. Between the three of you, you manage to connect the dots between the ancient demon the article described and Vecna. Rushing out of the library, Robin radios to the others, finding out that they broke into the school. Nancy speeds over to the school as fast as she can and you catch up to a very freaked out Max describing her vision and her corresponding symptoms. Your hand reaches out for hers and she’s about to let you take it before a noise echoes through the empty school hallways.

Following Steve and his trusty lamp, everyone piles into the hallway, coming face to face with an out of breath Lucas Sinclair. He explains that the basketball team is on a manhunt for Eddie and Dustin. You’re all about to shuffle back out to the cars and head to the Wheeler’s when Nancy stops with an idea, grabbing Robin’s arm and pulling her back. 

“What are you doing,” you stop, turning to face them as the others keep walking. She gives you a look, one you know means that you’re not going to like what she says.

“Go with Steve and the kids. I’ve got a plan and I need Robin,” she urges you forward, and Robin shoots her a look that you can’t quite read. 

“I meant what I said, Nance. I’m sticking with you.”

“Go Honey, we’ll be fine. Plus, I think it’ll help for Max to have you with her,” you want to argue with her, but like usual Nancy’s right. You pull her in for a quick hug before chasing after the others and sliding into the back seat of the BMW next to Lucas. In order to keep your distance from Steve, you head up to take a nap in Nancy’s bed once you get to the Wheeler house. It isn’t until much later that Nancy and Robin show up in the Wheeler’s basement explaining their plan to talk to Victor Creel.  

“Please don’t leave me here with him again. Nancy, I can’t take it,” you plead, following her up to her room. She purses her lips as she roots through her closet trying to find an outfit for Robin.

“Come on, Honey. It's been three years; you need to at least learn how to be civil with him. I know he hurt you and that he’s got his flaws, but I really do think he’s changed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give him a second chance,” she pulls out a shirt, looking it over before shoving it back on the rack and continuing her search.

“Geez you sound like Robin,” you mutter under your breath and she shoots you a tight lipped look.

“Who sounds like me?” Robin steps through the door, immediately drawn to the cassettes on Nancy’s nightstand and all her other little knick knacks littered throughout the room.

“I was telling Honey to suck it up and stay with Steve,” Nancy glances over her shoulder at Robin messing with her stuff.

“Oh yeah, totally. I think he’d throw a fit if you didn’t. He’d probably complain about being stuck as the babysitter again and we’d never hear the end of it,” Robin moves over to Nancy’s music box, letting out a squeal as a tiny ballerina pops up.  

“Maybe you can find it in your heart to at least listen to his explanation of what happened. You never did give him a chance before,” Nancy’s eyes dart between you to Robin, who is still rooting through her stuff. 

“This is just because you don’t like Eddie,” Robin snaps her head up, clearly intrigued by your assertion. You feel guilty bringing him into this argument. With all the craziness surrounding you, you’d nearly forgotten about the frightened Eddie left all alone at Reefer Rick’s.

“I like Eddie just fine. It’s you that doesn’t like Eddie, otherwise you would actually be dating at this point. Although he doesn’t really seem like the type to settle down,” Nancy shrugs, handing Robin a frilly blouse and skirt that causes Robin to scrunch her nose. You open your mouth to protest but you’re quickly cut off by Nancy’s glance towards her bed. “Did you sleep in my bed this morning?” you shoot her a guilty smile before making an excuse about checking on Max and sprinting downstairs.

After Nancy and Robin leave, you join the boys in awkwardly watching Max hunch over a desk for a few minutes before she gets up to pass out her letters. Your heart breaks with each word that trickles from her lips and the feel of worn paper between your fingers. Max argues with Steve about going to the cemetery until you chime in.

“If you won’t take her I will,” all eyes shift to you, holding out your hands for Steve’s car keys. He gives you a pleading look to reconsider before giving in and heading out towards his car. You give Max a playful nudge and she flashes you a grateful smile. When you get out to the car Max slides into the back, leaving the only empty seat upfront, next to Steve. He looks at you when you get in and you swear you can see the hope in his eyes.

Following a pitstop at Max’s house, the drive to the cemetery isn’t too long, but you can tell everyone is pretty restless by the time you get there. Max argues with Steve about going to Billy’s grave alone and you, once again stick up for her before sliding back into your seat in the car. Steve opens the door, following suit while Dustin and Lucas make up an excuse about needing fresh air and get out. You’re about to grab the door handle yourself when Steve’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Honey…”

“Don’t call me that,” you stare straight ahead, almost too afraid to look at him. Steve takes a second to hide his shock, his face returning to its normal shade after its flush of scarlet at your words.

“I honestly don’t think I can call you anything else,” his voice is quiet and it makes you finally turn your head to him. You realize that he’s nervous, more nervous than you knew Steve Harrington was capable of being. Even in the face of demodogs and other dimensions, Steve had never seemed this overwrought. “I just want to talk, please. I’ve wanted to explain, tried to explain, ever since that day, but you’ve never let me. Just, please, let me,” he sounded desperate, and if you were any less stubborn, you might have actually let him. 

“Now’s not really a good time, Steve,” he shifted back in his seat, processing what you said. Steve. Not Stevie. Steve. He wondered if maybe Vecna had cursed him and all of this was just some long, drawn out nightmare. But here you are, sitting in his car, looking more beautiful than he remembered, and he knows this is real. He wants to say more, but the words get stuck in his throat. Steve feels like he’s about to choke when you look past him, eyes landing on Max, sitting stiffly in front of Billy’s headstone. “Somethings wrong,” you throw open the door, calling for the boys and running towards Max. Her haze covered eyes make you recoil back for a second before you grab her shoulders, shaking them as hard as you can.

“What’s wrong?” Lucas nearly plows into you, trying to look at Max himself. You regret not listening to Steve and letting her go by herself. Steve shouts at Dustin to radio Robin and Nancy while you keep trying to break Max out of her trance. After a minute Dustin shouts something about music and favorite songs, throwing Max’s Walkman and cassettes on the ground in front of you. Sorting through cassettes, Lucas hands Steve a Kate Bush album, clicking it in, putting the headphones over her ears, and clicking play. Everyone stops for a second as the faint sound of Running Up That Hill comes from Max’s ears. 

You think it might be working for a second until Max’s body starts to rise from the ground, no matter how hard you try to hold her down. A scream rips from your throat as you watch what could be Max’s last moments. You think back to the girl in the Mike Myers mask on Halloween a few years ago as tears brim in your eyes. Losing hope with each passing second before you hear a gasp above you and Max tumbles down from the sky. Lucas wraps her in his arms and you all reach out to hold her in some way. 

As the minutes pass and everyone’s breathing returns to normal you realize that in the chaos of the moment your hand found its way into Steve’s. With one glance his way you can tell he’s more than aware that you’re holding his hand and will do anything to keep you from letting go. It takes every fiber of your being to hold back a small smile at how easily you can read him. His hand is warm, but you remember that his body has always run on the warmer side. You can’t help but find yourself getting caught up in a distant memory.

The Snowball hadn’t originally seemed like it was going to suck, but now that you were here, it definitely sucked. Brent Majors had made a big deal of asking you to go with him in front of the whole school at lunch. So you reluctantly agreed, wishing Steve had mustered up the courage to ask you first. He ended up asking Kat Connors to go with him, and despite the fact that she would’ve rather gone with friends, she accepted.

Steve arrived first and was immediately ditched by Kat who got sucked into her group of friends by the punch bowl. With a sigh, Steve plops himself down at an empty table and begins staring at the clock, willing the night to end. He loses himself in the hands of the clock until he hears the gym doors slam open, you emerging behind them. Steve’s breath catches in his chest, the same way it had a million times before, as he takes in the way you sparkle in the beautiful purple dress that your mom picked out for you on one of her good days. It isn’t until his eyes find your arm linked with Brent’s that his heart drops.

When Steve finally catches your eye you shoot him a wide smile and a small wave. Brent drags you past Steve, over to a table across the gym that was already packed with Brent’s friends. After about twenty minutes you realize that Brent has no intention of dancing with you so you get up and excuse yourself. Steve is still staring at the clock, trying his best not to look over to Brent’s table, when you sit down in the empty chair beside him.

“It seems that both of our dates are absolutely against dancing with us,” you speak up, nodding your head over to where Kat still stood engulfed by her friends.

“It appears so,” Steve breathed out, leaning back in his chair. He turns towards you, finally getting a chance to look at you up close.

“It’s as if they come from a town where dancing is illegal or something,” you joke, provoking a smile to appear on Steve’s lips. His lips that you now couldn’t stop staring at.

“That would make a great movie.”

“Are you kidding? That would make an excellent movie,” you smile now, seeing Steve break out of his stupor. “Come on,” you get up, holding out your hand for Steve to take. He gives you a look before you continue. “Let’s show ‘em how to dance,” Steve rises to his feet, gently taking your hand as you pull him towards the dance floor.

The two of you dance circles around the other kids, clearly enjoying yourself way more than all the others. You’re having so much fun with Steve that you completely miss the death stare Brent sends him from across the room. As the night winds down the songs start to slow. When one slow song in particular comes on, Steve grabs your hand and pulls you close. You sway back and forth, enough room between you for the chaperones to not intervene, but not enough for you to not feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“Your hands are warm, Stevie,” a confused smile etches itself onto Steve’s lips, leaving you to scramble for words. “It’s not a bad thing. I mean all of you is warm. You’re always warm,” you feel heat rush to your face and your eyes dart around the room, landing anywhere but Steve.

“Thank you, I think,” he laughs at you now and you can’t help but join. “It’s a good thing that I’m always warm because you are always cold. You need someone to warm you up,” the smile still lingers on his lips, and you can’t help but look at them. Overcome with the closeness of the moment, you take a leap and say something bold.

“What if I said my lips were cold?” you ask, hearing Steve’s breath hitch despite the loud music.

“I guess I would have to warm them up for you,” Steve shakily breathes out, eyes shifting over you. He leans in slowly and you do too. When your lips collide it’s soft, softer than you envisioned it. And as much of a joke it had been, Steve’s lips really were warm. You find yourself lost in the feel of Steve’s mouth on yours, not wanting to ever pull away, until you hear a throat clear behind you. One of the chaperones stands behind you, clearly embarrassed to witness your kiss with Steve.

“Three inch minimum please,” the woman speaks authoritatively before turning on her heel and walking back to the side of the gym. You turn to Steve again and find him already cracking up. It doesn't take much for you to join him.

When the air settles around you and the sun starts to fall behind the trees, Max stands on shaky legs, heading back to the car. No one is in the mood to talk anymore. Even Dustin keeps his mouth shut. The only thing you hear besides the car engine is the faint sound of Kate Bush’s voice coming from Max’s headphones. 

Back at the Wheeler’s basement, Steve falls into an armchair, curling into himself and falling asleep as you sit on the floor beneath him. Nancy and Robin arrive shortly after, reading the room and quietly joining the silence. After a brief conversation about setting up shifts to watch over Max, you find your eyelids growing heavy. You lean back into the space by Steve’s legs, catching a glimpse of Robin and Nancy’s shared look at the sight. Too tired to care, you let your head lull to the side as sleep washes over you. 

Nancy’s hushed words spoken into the walkie talkie wake you a few hours later. The warmth radiating from your shoulder pulls your attention from her. Steve’s leg is pressed up against your right side and it seems as though you’d fallen asleep against it. Sitting up properly now, you shift away from Steve, caught off guard when Nancy shakes Dustin awake next to you, frantically asking about Max. Pushing yourself to your feet you quickly follow them upstairs, finding Max at the table with Holly.

With a mumble about a shower, you head upstairs making a beeline for the linen closet, and pull out a towel. You head to Nancy’s room, finding the toothbrush you left there last time you stayed over and setting it with your towel on the bed. Just as you lift your sweater over your head, Nancy’s door swings open, making you scramble to cover your chest with your arms. Steve stands in the doorway, mouth hanging open in surprise as his eyes stay glued to your chest.

“Steve, what the hell?” you shout, knocking him out of his trance.

“Shit, right. Sorry,” he blurts out, averting his eyes to the ceiling. You quickly shove your sweater back on while he continues. “Max and Nance found something so we’re leaving,” he glances back at you now that your shirt is back on.

“Found what?”

Getting out of the car you find yourself staring up at Victor Creel’s creepy ass house. Breaking in was easy, fighting the chill that runs down your spine as you walk in was not. After a look around, you break off into groups, quickly following Robin and Nancy to avoid being paired with Steve. You can hear his displeasure in being partnered with Dustin again from his voice echoing up the stairs. Exploring the house sets your nerves on edge and it’s only amplified when Steve bursts through a door beside you, running into you and mumbling something about a spider before pulling the door shut. A giggle rises in your chest when you catch sight of the array of spiderwebs littering Steve’s hair.

“You got something,” Steve quickly turns his back to you, angling his head to grant you better access to his hair. Robin and Nancy walk past you reaching to grab a spider web from Steve’s locks. They both shoot you a look while Steve tries to brush off the comment Robin makes about spider eggs.

“So, you two are like friends now?” you hum in agreement. “That’s cool, that’s cool. Maybe when this is all over Robin will finally wear you down enough to let me explain what happened,” you stiffen behind him, plucking the last spider web from his hair. Steve turns to face you, clearly a little disappointed at you shutting down at the mention of your shared past. He’s about to say something when you hear Max and Lucas call for you all downstairs.

Standing in a half circle, everyone watches the lights flicker, making the connection that Vecna must be in the house. Splitting up again you spread out trying to find where he’s moved on to next. Robin finds Vecna first but it’s Steve who’s flashlight leads you all the way upstairs to the attic. The flashlights start to pulse and shatter with intensity, scaring the shit out of everyone. Shaken and scared, you all file back into Nancy’s car heading off to finally shower and get some sleep.

In the morning Nancy drives you to your house to get some clean clothes since your car is still over parked at Reefer Rick’s house. After a quick shower the two of you head back to her house where the others are waiting. When it’s time to pile back in the car to deliver Eddie more groceries and bad news, Nancy stops you from getting in the front seat. She points to the trunk where Steve was already getting in, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching you. With a sag of your shoulders and a dramatic eye roll, you climb into the trunk with Steve, making a point to keep as far from him as possible in such a tight space. You swear you see Nancy smile to herself through the rear view mirror. Best friend my ass. 

Robin does what she does best and rambles on about all the bad news to tell Eddie, doing a bit to distract you from how Steve’s eyes haven’t left you once. Noticing that Nancy has started to slow down, you peer through the windows, seeing the news vans and cop cars. The group hops out, hearing enough of Powell’s speech to know Vecna claimed another victim and Eddie's name was released to the public as the prime suspect. Just then Eddie’s voice cracks through the static of the walkie talkie, telling you all to meet him at Skull Rock.

Back in the car your thoughts race over Eddie. Poor Eddie who’s now witnessed two of Vecna’s murders all while being chased by the police. You can’t help but shift restlessly in the trunk and it’s sure as hell doesn’t help that Steve’s leg keeps brushing against yours. Overcome by anxiety you lean up a bit to look at Nancy through the rear view mirror again.

“Nance, can you maybe drive a little-” your sentence gets cut off as Nancy takes a sharp left turn towards the woods, throwing you into Steve’s lap. Your head hits the window and you let out a moan as your hand shoots up to cradle it. “Faster,” you finish, slowly realizing you’re now practically laying on top of Steve. His eyes are blown wide looking up at you with a hint of lust and recognition. It’s then that the memory resurfaces, making you want to curse under your breath and scramble back up.

After the kiss at the Snowball, everything seemingly went back to normal. Neither you nor Steve were brave enough to bring it up, meaning that you continued to push down your feelings and stay friends. Now you sat on his bed, reading a book while he paced around the room.

“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me see you on your sixteenth birthday,” he huffs, stopping at the edge of the bed to glare down at you. You groan, placing an old receipt in between the book’s pages and closing it in your lap.

“I told you Stevie, Mrs. Byers planned out a whole thing and you don’t like Jonathan so I figured you and I could just hang out another day,” Steve, who had returned to his angry pacing, stopped again.

“I don’t dislike Jonathan,” he defends and you let out a laugh. “He just spends a lot of time with you. Time that you could be spending with me,” you roll your eyes at that, about ready to pick up your book and go back to reading before Steve starts talking again. “Why would Mrs. Byers even plan out stuff for your birthday?”

“Because I’m extremely likable ,” you shoot Steve a cheesy grin and he fake laughs in response. “And I’m pretty sure she felt bad since my parents forgot. She just wanted me to enjoy my birthday,” Steve’s face changes at your words. His eyebrows furrow, eyes growing wide and glassy while his lips part. He takes a seat next to you on his bed, offering you his hand, which you gladly accept.

“Your parents forgot your birthday?” his voice is soft and unbelieving. That’s something he’d expect from his parents, not yours. You nod slowly, feeling a burn in your throat.

“I mean, it’s not their fault really. Dad is working crazy hours to try and pay off mom’s medical bills. I don’t think he knows what day it is normally, let alone on my birthday. And with mom-” your throat clogs a bit, trying not to cry as you cast your gaze down at your lap. “With mom we’re just lucky enough if she remembers to put clothes on in the morning. I didn’t really expect her to remember,” you finally look back up at Steve, his hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize your mom was getting that bad,” you nod again, not trusting your words. A moment of quiet stretches between the two of you. The feeling of warmth from Steve’s hand comforting you as much as his presence. “You know what?” he stands up slowly pulling his hand from yours. “You’re right, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t come to the Byer’s for your birthday. You probably would’ve spent too much time doing stuff with Jonathan and I would’ve gotten jealous. I mean boring stuff too, like reading,” he reached forward grabbing your book from your lap.

“Stevie! Reading is not boring! Give that back,” you shift onto your knees, trying to get the book from Steve’s grasp. He jumps off the bed, standing just by the side opposite you and waves the book in the air. In a split-second decision, you leap from your spot, tackling Steve onto the ground where he still manages to hold the book out of your reach. Steve flips you over so you’re pinned beneath him as you continue to flail for your book.

A smirk graces his face at the sound of your giggles. He has you caged in with his limbs and despite your squirming, it’s impossible to escape. You try to move up and get the book but you stop at the feeling of your hips brushing against Steve’s. He stops too, stunned into paralysis as the book drops from his hand above you. You lock eyes with Steve, feeling your face heat up, completely forgetting the now abandoned book. As you go to stutter out an apology, Steve mimics your action, grinding his hips into yours slowly. You can feel that he’s already hard after one or two brushes against each other. A gasp escapes your lips and you close your eyes in pleasure.

“Tell me to stop,” he breaths out above you, clearly feeling as good as you are. Steve looks down at you and you peel your eyes open to meet his.

“I don’t want you to stop, Stevie,” he smiles, continuing the motion as the two of you grind against each other, fully clothed on the floor of his room. You both let out moans and gasps as Steve steadies his pace. “Faster. Please, Stevie,” Steve’s heart pounds as he picks up the pace for a few more strokes. 

“Shit, fuck,” he breaths out, quickly standing up and bolting towards the bathroom. You lay confused on the floor, still breathing heavily as you turn your head to look over at the bathroom attached to Steve’s room. Scrambling to your feet, you make your way over to the door, giving it a soft knock.

“Stevie, are you ok?” you’re met by silence when it finally clicks into place. “Shit, did you just-” the door swings open, revealing Steve wearing a new pair of sweatpants while his other pair sits crumpled up in a corner.

“Yeah,” his voice is still breathy and his face is flushed. “It was the way you said it that tipped me over the edge,” he takes you in, with your messy hair and heaving chest.

“Said what?” you ask, confusion overtaking your expression.

“Faster.”

“Shit, are you two ok back there?” Nancy’s question hangs in the air and you can hear all the others turning around to see you still laying on top of Steve. You quickly move up, retreating back to your side of the trunk as your face burns with embarrassment.

“We’re fine, Nance,” you call back, avoiding all eye contact with Steve, who can’t seem to tear his gaze from you now. After another minute or two Nancy stops the car and you waste no time in getting out. You try to ignore the sight of Steve’s deflating shoulders as you scramble as far away from him as you can. Moving deep into the woods, you hear Dustin pick a fight with Steve over which direction leads to Skull Rock. 

“You do realize that Skull Rock is like a super popular make out spot, right?” you trail a bit further behind the two of them with Nancy and Robin beside you.

“Yeah, so what?” 

“Yeah well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular,” Steve says, making you roll your eyes in response. You’re more than familiar with the rumors that spread throughout the school of King Steve taking girls up to Skull Rock. The rumors only started after you stopped talking to Steve and they only made you hurt more. Steve leads the way, much to Dustin’s dismay, and shortly after you all arrive at Skull Rock. There’s no sign of Eddie until Steve says something about Dustin being a butthead.

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead,” Eddie jumps down from a nearby rock, and you all turn to look at him. He hugs Dustin first before his eyes fall onto you. Eddie practically sprints towards you, wrapping his arms around you and spinning you into the air. A laugh escapes you when he sets you down, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Sorry it took us so long to get back to you,” your arms fall from around his neck, trailing down towards his hands.

“Don’t worry Honey, you’re here now and that’s enough for me,” Eddie pulls you back in for another kiss and you hear a throat clear behind you. Dustin stands watching you both with a face of disgust, while Steve tries to pretend he didn’t see anything. It doesn’t take a 20/20 vision to see the angry red splotches on Steve’s skin and the slight glassiness in his eyes.

Eddie dives into the bags of junk food Nancy hands him and starts to explain the previous night’s events. You can’t help but notice Dustin’s incessant pacing behind you. Nancy connects the dots between the lights in the Creel House and Vecna’s attack on Patrick when Dustin starts shouting and rambling on about magnets and a gate. He leaves it up to Eddie who, after a Lord of the Rings reference, agrees to start the search for the gate to the Upside Down.

Eddie has his arm wrapped around your shoulder the entire trip through the woods, whispering dirty words in your ear to make you giggle. The sun fully sets by the time you reach Lover’s Lake and Dustin’s compass goes crazy. Nancy determines that Vecna must leave an opening behind from his attacks, similarly to the demogorgon. Eddie and Steve pull the hidden boat over, helping Robin in before Eddie hops in offering Nancy a hand. You step over the motor, stumbling a bit and Steve grabs your back to steady you. Eddie eyes him wearily as you mutter a thanks and take a seat next to Nance. Eddie stops Dustin from getting in the boat, which doesn’t stop the flood of protests before Dustin eventually hands over his compass.

“Sorry,” Steve shrugs towards Dustin, pushing the boat away from the shore and settling in next to you. Robin and Eddie paddle out towards the middle of the lake when the compass starts to go crazy. They slow to a stop as you all peer over the edge of the boat. The kids radio out and Robin updates them while Steve starts to strip off his socks, determined to be the one that dives down. After a small fight you all give in and Steve stands, taking off his shirt. An audible gasp escapes your lips at the sight of shirtless Steve and all but Steve’s head turns your way. It’s almost too dark to see the shared smirk Robin and Nancy shoot each other, but you still notice. Eddie tosses Steve a flashlight before he dives down and Nancy counts the seconds on her watch. 

After what feels like way too long, a breathless Steve pops up grabbing the side of the boat. He rushes out words of a snack size gate as something tugs him down for a second. He grips the boat harder, sparing one last look your way before he gets pulled under. With a shout of his name, you leap in after him, pushing through the water as fast as you can until you find the glowing gate. You break through, adjusting to the dim light of the Upside Down while you look for Steve. He’s a few yards away, being attacked by a bunch of bats. You pick up an oar from the boat on the ground when you see Nancy, Robin and Eddie appear from the gate as well. Wasting no time, you swing the oar as hard as you can, taking out a bat at Steve’s side.

“Hey Stevie,” you say breathlessly, before swinging the oar again to smack another bat out of the way. Nancy, Robin and Eddie all attack the bats around you with whatever they can find as well. Eventually Steve is able to get up, tearing the bat from around his neck with his teeth. He spits out blood before meeting your eyes again, and for something that shouldn’t be hot, that was really fucking hot. Nancy starts for the woods when the bats start to swarm the gate and the rest of you follow. 

Huddling under Skull Rock, Steve starts to sway, tripping into the side of it. You reach your hands up to balance him and he tries to brush you off, claiming he’s fine despite the blood loss. You set him down and remove your flannel, leaving you in just your tank top and overalls. Robin rambles to Steve about rabies as you rip the worn fabric and tie it tightly around his waist, covering the bat bites. He stares down at you, chest heaving and eyes wide.

“Too tight?” you ask, trying not to sound as nervous as you feel to be this close to Steve.

“No it’s perfect, thanks,” he sends you a soft smile that you can’t help but reciprocate. You help him stand as Eddie and Robin throw questions at the rest of you about the Upside Down and how it works. Nancy comes to a quick conclusion that you all need to go to her house, retrieve guns, and kill the bats to get back home. Steve takes a step closer to you, reaching over to wipe some blood from the bat fight from your face. You freeze, wide eyes looking up at him as your breath hitches in your chest. The moment is interrupted by Eddie launching his denim vest at Steve’s face mumbling something about modesty. 

The ground starts to shake beneath your feet and Eddie tries to lunge toward you but Steve wraps his arms around you first, pulling your back flush against his chest. Steve backs into the rock behind him, holding it for support until the shaking subsides. The echo of the bats rattles through the air, reinforcing the idea of needing guns. Steve slowly retracts his arm from around you, letting you move away from him. Despite the distance you’ve purposefully created between the two of you for the past three years, you find yourself not wanting to pull away from him. You feel safe in his arms. The way you once did. The way you always did. You catch Eddie’s eyes on you and Steve before he quickly redirects them away.

“What are we waiting for?” Steve says, bringing out the flashlight from before and clicking it on. The rest of you follow him as he leads the way through the woods to Nancy’s house. As you all keep walking, Steve ends up falling into step with Eddie a little ways behind you, Nancy, and Robin. You can’t hear them from how far away you are, but it’s nearly eating you alive wanting to know what they’re discussing.

“What do you think they’re talking about back there?” you break through the silence the three of you created. Nancy and Robin quickly glimpse back at the boys then turn their attention back to you.

“You. Definitely you,” Nancy replies with a small smirk on her lips. 

“Oh shut up,” you give her a playful shove and she giggles.

“I’m serious though. I mean they only have two things in common. Their love for Dustin and their love for you,” you stumble over your own foot at Nancy’s words, making Robin laugh. You shoot her a glare before Nancy goes on. “And since Dustin’s not here I think it’s safe to say they’re all about you at the moment. They’re both clearly jealous of each other,” you open your mouth to argue that Eddie’s not the jealous type but Robin interrupts first.

“Seriously, Steve looked like a kicked puppy when Eddie kissed you earlier and the way Eddie threw his vest at Steve definitely had something angsty behind it,” your gaze trails over to the boys behind you, taking in the sight of Steve and Eddie’s faces while they talk animatedly back and forth. They stop walking for a minute and the ground begins to shake again. The force of the earthquake slams you into a tree, knocking you on the ground. Nancy takes off before the shaking stops, heading for the edge of the tree line where she can see her house. Eddie hooks his arms under yours, pulling you up from behind and the rest of you take off after her.

The Wheeler house, a place you’d been to a million times, looks frighteningly different, covered in vines and in such low light. Nancy rushes upstairs, followed by Robin, Eddie, and Steve in front of you. Steve stops halfway, turning his head towards the dining room, catching your attention too. You and Steve share a look, hearing Dustin’s voice echo from that direction and run back down the stairs. Steve calls out to him, progressively getting louder with each try. The others hurry downstairs and you try to explain while Steve continues shouting for Dustin like a crazy person. Nancy brings up Will and the lights, fiddling with light switches that won’t work.

“Guys,” everyone turns towards you as you point at the now shimmering chandelier. They gather around while you stick your hand into the shimmering air, igniting the air around it in a soft light. The others join in, feeling the tingling sensation that it brings when you touch the light. 

“Does anyone know Morse code?” Nancy’s question is met with a chorus of no’s until Eddie shifts to look at her. 

“Wait, does S.O.S. count?” you all turn towards Eddie, hopeful for the first time since you dove after Steve into Lover’s Lake. It only takes a minute or two for Dustin, Lucas, and Erica to notice your signal for help. Talking back and forth on Holly’s Lite-Brite, you all come up with a plan to meet at Eddie’s trailer where there will hopefully be another gate. The five of you rush outside, grabbing the bikes from the Wheeler’s garage. 

“Wait, there’s only four,” you point out, everyone hopping on a bike but you. Steve turns to look at the back wheel of his bike, noticing that his bike belonged to Mike. 

“Mine’s got pegs on the back that you can stand on. Hop on,” he motions you over and your desire to get out of the Upside Down overrides your reluctance to be near Steve. Putting one foot on the first peg, you grab Steve’s shoulders for support, lifting the other foot next. “Hold on tight, ok?” you nod and Steve lifts his feet from the ground to start pedaling as the others follow. You wrap your arms around Steve’s torso, doing your best to avoid the bat bites on his abdomen. Even bloody and shirtless in the Upside Down, Steve still radiates warmth, keeping you comfortable now that you don’t have your flannel to wear. 

Steve’s out of breath by the time you get to Eddie’s trailer, coming to a quick stop in the grass. He helps you off and drops the bike down, following closely behind as you burst through the door. The gate is bright and red as something starts moving beneath it. Suddenly, whatever it is bursts through causing you to jump back, right into Steve’s arms. He moves you behind him, slowly approaching the hole that now covers most of the ceiling. You inch up behind him with Nancy at your side. Dustin’s hat is the first thing you see, making you burst into a bright smile at the sight. You notice the others share a similar look of relief.

The kids bring out Eddie’s stained mattress and you can’t help but catch Eddie’s embarrassed glance your way, knowing that you’re both very aware of how some of those stains got there. Dustin throws a rope made of tied bed sheets through the gate, finding that it defies all laws of physics and holds in place. Robin goes first, falling onto the mattress below. Eddie looks around at you, Steve, and Nancy before moving to go up next. He flops down, being pulled up by the kids. Nancy’s about to go next when she freezes up next to you. You and Steve share a look before looking back at her, seeing foggy eyes and a blank expression.

“Nancy?” you place your hands on her shoulders, trying to  shake her awake. “Nancy, come on, wake up. Nancy!” you shout panicked with Steve next to you, looking equally worried. The others start scrambling, trying to find a cassette tape in Eddie’s trailer that has a song on it that Nancy would actually know. Suddenly, Nancy gasps awake, and you pull her into your arms as her legs give out beneath her. “We’re right here, Nance. You’re ok now. It’s ok,” tears spill from her eyes and you pull her into a tight hug. When she calms down enough to climb through the gate, you help, giving her a boost from below. You go next, catching Steve staring at your ass from the corner of your eye as you climb the rope. 

Once you’re all back right side up, everyone sneaks over to Max’s trailer, not wanting to stay so close to the gate. Nancy heads for the bathroom, needing a minute alone to pull herself together after being trapped in Vecna’s mind prison. Eddie grabs your hand asking Max if he can use her room for a minute.

“As long as you don’t do anything gross in there,” she gives him a glare and he responds with a fake gasp, hand shooting to his chest. 

“When have I ever done anything gross?” Eddie asks in mock offense.

“I mean look at your mattress for one-” Max begins but you cut her off with a promise that nothing will happen in her room. Eddie pulls you in, careful not to touch anything considering how you’re both covered in goo from the Upside Down. He looks nervous, fiddling with his hands as he looks up at you. You are about to speak up and break the silence when he starts.

“No, no. I talk, you listen. Ok?” you nod, meeting his gaze. “When we started hooking up, that was all we intended for it to be. Then we became friends and started hanging out even when we weren’t looking to hook up,” he pauses, searching for the right words.

“Eds,” you begin, but he holds up a hand to silence you.

“Honey, I’m not one for relationships, you know that. And I’m also not one to get in the way of one,” you’re thrown off. When he started talking, you were sure he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend, but now he’s pulled a total 180. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve. Hell, I might never know, but I see the way he looks at you. More importantly, I see the way you look at him,” he gets quiet, eyes searching your face and waiting for your impending push back. 

“But I like you, Eds,” you choke out, not realizing that you started crying. He lets out a breathy chuckle, holding your hand in his. Eddie’s hands were always ice cold. You’d always thought it was because of those metal rings he wore, but you could never tell.

“I like you too, Honey. So much,” he breathes out a shaky breath, looking down at his shoes and you notice a tear streak through the dirt caking his face. “But you love him,” he looks back up at you and you swear your heart stops beating. “Do you even realize what you called him earlier?” you shake your head, not following. “Stevie. What you used to call him. Back when you were friends. Back when you-” Eddie stops, slowly dropping your hands. “Go get him. Go be happy again. Then I can be happy for you,” he gently cups your cheeks, pulling your head forward to press a kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone, standing in the middle of Max’s room. 

After taking a minute to pull yourself together and wipe the tear streaks from your cheeks, you step back into Max’s living room. All eyes land on you as you settle on the floor next to Robin. She notices your red rimmed eyes and places a comforting hand on your knee. Letting out a breath, you lay your head on her shoulder and she gladly lets you. Nancy emerges from the bathroom. Sitting in a chair that gives you all a good view of her. She describes what Venca showed her, putting two and two together to realize that Vecna is only one person away from fulfilling his master plan. 

Max tries to call the Byer’s, but she’s met with a busy signal again. Nancy becomes hell bent on going back in and killing Vecna, and after a rambling of protests all around Max speaks up, offering herself as the bait. Your heart breaks, realizing how much she’s grown in the time you’ve known her. She’s different now, you all are, but she’s taken more hits than some of the rest of you. Reluctantly, you all agree, forming a plan to get weapons and take down Vecna. Eddie hot-wires his neighbor's camper, throwing Steve into the front seat to drive. Nancy rushes into the seat next to him while the rest of you hold on to anything you can find. You get thrown onto the bench in the back, falling in between Max and Dustin as Steve maneuvers out of the trailer park in the direction of the War Zone. The road stretches and the boys in the back keep a steady conversation.

“I wish Will were here. He’d be able to spy on Vecna for us and make this a million times easier,” Dustin says looking at the trees passing by out the window. 

“I’m glad he’s not here. Poor kid has already been through enough. He doesn’t need to go through this shit too,” you speak quietly, looking up from your hands in your lap to find Lucas, Dustin, and Max staring back at you. “We could use Mike though. One conversation with his sassy ass and Vecna would be ready to abandon Hawkins for good,” a smile creeps onto Max’s lips, knowing her distaste for Mike’s attitude. 

“What would you know about Mike being sassy? He’s hasn’t been rude to you ever since he developed a crush on you back in third grade,” Dustin chimes in, causing your eyebrows to shoot up to your hairline.

“Wha- so just because he’s not here you’re gonna spill all his secrets? Some friend you are,” you joke, still freaked out by the idea of a young Mike Wheeler crushing on you. 

“No, I’d tell you if he were here too. Like this,” he stops talking, eyeing Lucas across the aisle. “Lucas has had a crush on you since second grade,” Dustin receives a pillow to the face thrown by Lucas.

“Dustin’s liked you since fourth grade. Ever since you started helping Will draw out our D&D characters,” Lucas smirks back at Dustin until Dustin tackles him to the floor. You look over at Max who is laughing at the two wrestling each other. Getting up, you move to the front, hanging over the back of Nancy’s seat.

“What are they doing back there?” Steve asks, looking in the rear-view mirror to see Dustin and Lucas still rolling around on the ground.

“Dustin told me that Lucas likes me, then Lucas told me Dustin likes me and now they’re fighting I guess,” you gesture over your shoulder and Nancy turns to see what you’re talking about.

“That’s weird, I’m pretty sure Mike has a thing for you too,” Nancy says, shifting back in her seat to look up at you.

“Seems like you’ve got some competition there little Stevie,” Robin calls out from her seat behind you and Steve’s face turns beat red. The War Zone appears on the right much to Steve’s luck, effectively ending the conversation. Nancy decides that you, her, Steve, Robin, Erica, and Max should all go in to pick out weapons. You file out of the camper and through the glass doors, overwhelmed by the amount of people crowding the aisles. You beeline for the crossbow section, filling a cart with a new crossbow and as many arrows as you can get your hands on. Robin runs past you as you fill your cart, Steve trying to catch up to her. 

“Is she ok?” you ask when she runs through the doors leading outside and he gives up chasing her. 

“She’ll be alright. Just saw someone she knows,” he reassures you, looking at the stuff you’ve piled into your shopping cart. You look up, eyes scanning the room to see what else you need when you spot a familiar face. 

“That makes two of us,” Steve glances towards you, finding your eyes wide. He turns to see who you’ve spotted but you grab and turn him towards you, trying not to pull the person’s attention your way. “Brent Majors,” you whisper and Steve stares at you in shock.

“No way. That asshole’s here?” you nod, glancing back over in Brent’s direction. Just then Brent’s eyes shoot up, locking with yours.

“Shit,” you try to duck behind Steve, but Brent still sees you and starts heading your way. Panicked, you pull Steve closer. “Kiss me,” you plead, Steve freezes in your grasp.

“What?” 

“Brent’s coming over here. He’s always been jealous of you, especially after the Snowball, and maybe if you kiss me he’ll get the idea and-” Steve cuts you off, slamming his lips to yours. It’s better than you remember. Warm lips encasing yours as his chest presses flush against you. Hands trailing down your sides until they find your lower back, pulling you as close as physically possible. You don’t want to pull away, but you’re also painfully aware that you’re now making out with Steve Harrington in a weapon supply store at what very well might be the end of the world. Your hands gently push his chest back when you hear a throat clear beside you. Erica stands next to you with a small look of panic on her face and Brent Majors is nowhere to be found.

“We gotta go,” she gestures over her shoulder to Jason and his basketball goons rifling through the shelves. You nod, quickly pushing your cart over to the checkout area and getting out of the store as quickly as possible with Steve following behind. Steve bursts through the camper doors helping you throw everything you bought inside and making sure everyone else is back and seated before driving off. You end up parked in a field, all the others split off into groups as you stand alone near the trees, testing out the crossbow. Aiming for the tree branches, you shoot over and over, hitting them perfectly almost every time. Your mind keeps trailing back to Steve. The feel of his lips on yours, all the soft touches from the last few days, what Eddie said earlier. Giving in to your racing thoughts, you head over towards the camper where Steve sits with Robin making Molotov cocktails.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask, Steve’s head shooting up to look at you. He nods right away, turning back to Robin.

“You’ll be alright doing this by yourself, right?” Robin nods and Steve stands, opening the door to the camper for you to step inside. He follows behind you, closing the door and sitting next to you on the bench in the back. You close the curtains, shielding the bright sun from your eyes. “Look, I know that you’re mad about everything and you have every right to be, but please let me explain,” he starts, careful to put some space between you.

“No. Not yet. I have to tell you something first,” you look at him, his soft caramel eyes searching over you.

“Ok, tell me,” he says, nodding his head. So, you do.

After the incident on the floor, something had changed between you and Steve. You weren’t quite dating, or at least no one had explicitly said so, but you also were definitely more than friends. No one really knew what was going on between the two of you, but you sort of liked it that way. It was almost as if it was just you and Steve in your own little world. He had his head resting in your lap, letting you lazily trace your fingers through his hair. There were only two more weeks left before the summer, not that you could tell based on the weather. It was too hot outside to do anything. Even the thought of walking the few feet between Steve’s house and the pool in his backyard made you sweat. So you stayed inside, enjoying the A/C and lounging around. Steve had fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, looking so peaceful and calm in your lap. You lean down, placing a small kiss to his lips, making his eyes shoot open.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake-” you’re cut off by Steve pulling you down for another kiss. This one is deeper, more passionate than the peck you initially gave him. Steve shifts beneath you, sitting up and pulling you to straddle his lap. His kisses are warm and fiery, lighting a heat in you that only his touch could bring. Steve tugs on your shirt and without a second thought you lift it up over your head, revealing your bare chest. His eyes widen at the sight and his shirt comes off next, joining yours where it now lays on the floor. You grind into his lap, chasing the same feeling you had that day on the floor.

“Stevie,” you whimper, his hips snapping up to meet yours. His eyes swim with lust and love, finally about to feel you in a way he’s wanted to for so long. 

“Baby, Honey, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” his words come out in breathy moans beneath you. Steve’s fingers coming up to play with your nipples. “I don’t wanna rush though. Wanna take my time with you,” he continues thrusting against you and you let out a loud moan.

“I know Stevie, but I need you. Need you so bad right now,” Steve stops grinding up into you, so unbelievably turned on. You sit up, removing your shorts and panties, allowing Steve to do the same. Now you sit, completely naked on your best friend’s lap. A small giggle escapes your lips at the thought, a giggle that Steve returns, feeling the exact same way as you. He pulls you closer to him, cutting off the giggles with his lips against yours. His fingers reach down to your entrance, teasing around the outside before gently dipping in. A gasping moan pulls from your chest as Steve pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times. 

“You’re so wet for me already, baby,” his lips latch onto your neck, relishing in the sound of your moans.

“Stevie, feels so good, but I need you in me,” Steve nods, slipping his fingers from you and taking them in his mouth to suck your juices off. He groans at the taste, popping them from his mouth and lining himself up with your entrance. Steve enters you slowly, sinking you down onto him as you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his. You both moan as he bottoms out, wasting little time before Steve starts to pound into you from below. 

“It’s like you were made for me, fuck,” Steve moans out and you clench around him. He increases his speed, thrusts getting sloppier, but you couldn’t care less. You’re on the edge of your orgasm, about ready to tip over. “Fuck, I love you, Honey,” Steve rushes out, giving one last hard thrust before spilling himself into you. The combo of Steve’s orgasm and his words pushes you to the edge, letting out a gasp of Steve’s name as he pulls you back a little from where you cling to his chest. His eyes watch you as you reach your peak. A whole range of emotions rush through him at the sight, but mainly lust and love.

“I love you too, Stevie,” you finally say when you’ve come down from your high. He pulls you back into him, wrapping you in a tight hug before leaning back to give you a bruising kiss. He’s still buried deep inside you as he dips his head, littering your chest with hickies. You laugh through your moans, pulling him back up after a few bruises bloom in order to kiss his soft lips again. Eventually, Steve lifts you off of him and you whine at the emptiness. He lays you on his bed about to get up to grab a washcloth to clean you up when he stops. He grabs his Polaroid camera from his nightstand, holding it up to you in a question. You give him a nod and he kneels over you on the bed, taking a picture of you in your fucked out state. Your chest littered with hickies, hair a wild mess, and legs spread out with Steve’s cum leaking from between them.

“I’m so saving this for later when you're gone,” he says, shaking the photo when it pops out from the camera.

“You gonna keep it with your stack of Playboys?” You ask teasingly and he’s taken aback.

“What Playboys?” 

“The ones under your mattress,” you pause, leaning up with your elbows. “You know, there’s the one with the picture of a girl in it that kinda looks like me? That page is super sticky by the way, you might want to get a new one,” Steve laughs at you, leaning down to press his body back onto yours.

“I’ve got my new one right here,” he waved the photo over you, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. 

“So romantic,” you respond through his lips, smiling as he gives you kiss after kiss before hopping up to go towards the bathroom. 

About a week and a half later there were only three days left before the end of the school year. Pushing through the school’s front entrance, you immediately spot Steve at his locker with Tommy and Carol. You were never a big fan of either of them but got along with them fine enough for Steve’s sake. 

“Hey Stevie,” you say, joining them at his locker. His eyes soften when he sees you and he wants nothing more than to kiss you, but he knows Tommy and Carol would tease him for it, so he doesn’t. 

“Hey Honey, was just thinking about you,” Tommy wears a shit eating grin as he speaks and you know that it can’t mean anything good. 

“Really? What a coincidence then,” you reply, trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. It’s then that you see Steve looking at Tommy as inquisitively as you feel.

“Well you see, ever since I saw this little number it’s been hard not to think of you,” Tommy holds up a Polaroid picture in his hand and you don’t even have to look at it to know what the picture is of. You reach out, grabbing the photo as quickly as you can, looking around to make sure no one else saw. “You finally came through, King Steve. After years of talking about getting her in the sack, you finally did. Kinda sucks for her though, seems like she’s developed some feelings for you,” Tommy lifts his hand for a high five and Carol belts out her witch cackle beside him. You back away, tears springing in your eyes when Steve turns to you.

“Honey, I didn’t-” Steve begins, but you don’t hear the rest. You take off down the hall and out the doors, running directly into Jonathan. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jonathan asks, seeing the tears in your eyes. You choke out a sob asking him to take you home. Jonathan’s car is pulling out of the school parking lot when you see Steve burst through the front doors, Tommy and Carol snickering behind him. Jonathan pulls up to your house, making you promise to tell him what happened when you feel better before letting you out of the car. You notice your dad’s car is still in the driveway, which confuses you since he should already be at work. Stepping through the door you hear a small sob coming from your parent’s bedroom. Your heart drops, already knowing what you’ve walked into. Fresh tears form in the corners of your eyes when you see your dad laying with his head pressed against your mom’s chest. He hears your footsteps and lifts his head.

“She’s gone, sweetie. In her sleep last night,” your dad sobs out, snot bubbles and tears spilling onto your mother’s nightgown. And that was it. It was too much. Steve and your mom, both gone all at once. After that day you couldn’t think of Steve without thinking of your mom. So, it just became easier to not think of Steve at all. You avoided him, slinking through the shadows at school. Hiding from the hurt that the memories brought you. Insisting on not seeing him again, not even a glimpse, until that night outside the lab when the world nearly ended for the second time.

Steve’s quiet when you stop talking, processing everything all at once. Taking in the information that you’ve had to sit with for nearly three years, while he’s only known it for about a minute now. 

“I didn’t know,” his voice is quiet, attention directed towards his hands in his lap. You’d both inched closer somehow while you had been explaining. “I mean, I knew your mom died, but not until a year and a half later. Not until Nancy told me. And even then, she didn’t tell me that it happened that day,” Steve’s eyes meet yours, tears brim his lashes, clearly feeling guilty in some capacity.

“We didn’t really have a funeral for her. Didn’t post an obituary either. If we did then that would’ve made it real, I guess. Dad and I couldn’t really handle that. So, we had her cremated and kept her name out of the paper,” your voice is quiet, but calm. You’ve grown with time, learned to live with loss no matter how much it still aches from time to time. Steve clears his throat, one tear slipping down his cheek. You wipe it away gently, moving your hand back down to your lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers and you shrug, as if to say ‘it’s not your fault’. “About the photo,” Steve begins, not really sure how to bring it up. “I didn’t give it to Tommy, I swear. I’m pretty sure he found it the weekend before when we had that end of the year party at my house, remember? Him and Carol went up to my room to-” he stops clearly disgusted at the thought. You let out a small laugh at the look on his face, which blooms into a smile at the sound he missed hearing so badly.

“I figured. Well, not at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew you never would've done that,” Steve nods, inching the slightest bit closer, hoping you wouldn’t notice. You did.

“And the stuff he said about me that made it sound like I only wanted to sleep with you, that wasn’t true. I loved you, so so much. I still love you, Honey,” he looks worried as the words spill from his lips, but he keeps his gaze locked with yours.

“I figured that out too. I knew you cared too much about me to just want sex and nothing more. We were practically dating at that point anyway,” you stop, knowing Steve was still waiting to see if you’ll say those three little words. Those barriers you’d built up so long ago to keep Steve out, slowly crumbling down. “And I love you too, Stevie,” Steve smiles, at what you said, at your voice, at the nickname, at your cute little overalls, at you. He surges forward, crashing his lips to yours in a kiss that could set off fireworks in the sky, burn down a brand new mall, save a boy from being possessed, fight monsters, and kill an evil wizard from another dimension. It was everything you’ve felt for the last three years and everything else beyond that. Steve pulls back reluctantly, his chest heaving and his hands on your cheeks.

“Eddie,” he breathes out. “You’re with Eddie,” you shake your head and his eyebrows furrow.

“We were just hooking up, but don’t worry, he told me to go for it,” you say, and Steve gives a small nod before pulling you back into another searing kiss. Clothes are stripped in a hurry, Steve’s hand roaming your body. 

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” Steve whimpers, pulling you on top of him, just like before. It’s better than the first time. The two of you are more experienced now since you’ve both slept with other people, but you’re still just as in love, if not more. Steve fits perfectly into you, hitting you just right with every thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to both hit your highs. Coming down in a fit of giggles when a loud knock rattles the door.

“Hey, if you two are done, we’ve got a town to save and a telekinetic to kill,” Robin’s voice filters through the shut door. You share a look with Steve, bursting out into laughter again, getting up to get dressed again. You open the door as Steve sits in the driver's seat. Everyone files in with the weapons and you take the seat across from Steve. He sends you a wink before he takes off, driving away from the field. Max, Lucas, and Erica get dropped off at the Creel house first and Steve continues driving until you get to the woods next to the trailer park. You all go over the plan again, leaving the camper to enter Eddie’s trailer and go into the Upside Down the same way you came out of it no more than 24 hours before. Once you’re all through the gate, everyone goes outside the trailer and Steve stops, giving you, Dustin, and Eddie a lecture about not being heroes. He pulls you to the side so the others can’t hear.

“I still don’t feel good about you staying behind. You should come with us, these two can handle themselves,” Steve looks worried at the prospect of leaving you.

“Are you kidding? They need all the help they can get,” you say, hearing a soft ‘hey’ from Dustin. Ok, so maybe they’re not quite out of earshot.

“It’s just, I just got you back. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, Stevie. I promise,” you pull him in by his shirt, kissing him passionately. A few wolf whistles sound off beside you, but you couldn’t care less, flipping them off before you pull away. “Good luck,” you push him back towards Robin and Nancy, the goofy smile on his face from your kiss slowly returning to his more serious expression from before. 

“Make him pay,” Eddie calls out to Steve, who nods in return, giving you one last look and setting off towards the Creel house. You, Dustin, and Eddie make quick work of boarding up the trailer and setting up Eddie’s amp. Eddie starts playing Master of Puppets by Metallica, a song he hasn’t shut up about since it first came out. Eddie’s killing it as you and Dustin both listen along, keeping an eye out for the bats. When they’re close enough, the three of you barricade yourselves in the trailer. It seems to work at first but they start to break through. Dustin jumps through the gate and you’re about to as well when Eddie takes off muttering something about buying more time. 

“Eddie!” you shout following after him as he bursts through the front door, grabbing a bike and peddling away quickly, drawing the bats away from the trailer. You take the crossbow from your back, unloading arrow after arrow into the bats swarming around him. Dustin pops up behind you, swinging his staff at the bats surrounding the two of you, protecting you both while you protect Eddie. A bat knocks Eddie off his bike and others start to swarm around him. You and Dustin creep forward as Eddie stops running away and tries to defend himself. Eddie gets pelted to the ground, a bat taking a bite out of his side before you can shoot it. You take out the others that swarm around Eddie as he keeps trying to smack them away. Suddenly in some kind of miracle they all drop to the ground. Dustin sprints over to Eddie with you close on his heels. He’s still sprawled out on the ground, but not bleeding too badly. 

“I’d offer you my flannel to cover that up, but Stevie beat you to it,” you offer him a hand to sit up which he gladly accepts, placing a hand over the wound with a slight wince.

“It’s not too bad, could be way worse,” he removes his bandanna from his head, pressing it to the wound and standing all the way up. “Is it too late for me to take back what I said about you and Harrington earlier? The sight of you with the crossbow has me all hot and bothered,” you give him a light shove as Dustin gags from beside you.

“Shut up, Munson,” the boys are about to follow you back over the trailer when the ground starts to shake. They both grab onto you, trying not to fall as the ground cracks open, right through the trailer. From then on it’s all a blur. Between Steve, Robin, and Nancy meeting up with you, explaining what happened with Vecna, going back through the gate that now stretched across town, getting Max to the hospital, and finding a better hiding spot for a now patched up Eddie, it all floods together. It isn’t until two days later, when a van with a surfboard on top pulls up in front of Nancy’s house that everything begins to clear up a bit. Out of the van comes Will, Mike, Eleven, Jonathan, and someone else that you don’t know. You wait your turn for Jonathan to hug Nancy before getting over to you. Will’s next, squeezing you tightly and you realize how much he’s grown since you saw him last. El throws her arms around you and your hands find her freshly shaven head. She laughs when you tell her that you’ll figure something out to help her hair grow out faster. Mike approaches you last, enveloping you in his long arms. 

“You know,” you say when he pulls back. “A little birdie told me you’ve got a thing for me. Better not let El find out. I’d hate to see what she’d do to you now that her powers are back,” his smile falls and his face is overcome with anger.

“Dustin!” he shouts, going over to the boy, berating him loudly. You laugh while watching them argue back and forth. Steve comes up next to you, slinging his arm around your shoulder and letting out a chuckle. 

“You had to tease him about it?” Steve smiles over at you and you place a hand on his chest.

“Will looked a little upset and I can guarantee he’s the reason why, so he kinda deserves it,” Steve laughs, rolling his eyes and placing a kiss on your lips. When the reunions are done, you pile into the car with boxes full of donations. You, Steve, Dustin, and Robin enter the high school gym, quickly dropping off the donations and finding places to help out. Robin is making pb&j’s and Dustin is talking to Wayne Munson while you and Steve sort through clothes. You hear Robin talking to a girl at the sandwich station and it all clicks.

“Oh,” you breathe out, Steve’s eyes following yours. “I get it now,” you grab for the shirt Steve is trying, and failing, to fold.

“Get what?” 

“A few days ago at the library. Robin kept going on and on about how you’re not her type and that she’d rather let humans die off than be with you,” you nod your head towards her and the other girl. “I get it now and you definitely aren’t her type.”

“She really said that? Some wing woman she is,” Steve mutters and you chuckle at him, pulling his face towards you to place a soft kiss on his cheek. It’s then that you hear murmurs erupt over by the big windows. You wander over with Steve and Robin close behind you. What looks like snow falls from the sky, but you’ve seen this stuff enough to know it’s not snow. Steve’s hand finds yours, squeezing it tightly in his warm grasp. You look at him and he looks back at you. His expression says all the same things that you're thinking. That whatever’s next, you can make it through. Together. You can do anything as long as you have Steve beside you. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your something. Your everything.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

handcuffed - jim hopper

you REALLY dont wanna get arrested right now.

cw/tags: DUBCON. DUBCON FOR DAYS. uhh, very bdsm-y, obvious power dynamics, degradation kink, handcuffs, obviously. timeline debatable, age difference but thats what makes it hot!, he spits in y/ns mouth. cums in her panties if thats a kink? what would i call that? y/n is canonically a bit of a slut but thats okay! mutual pining if u squint.. maybe enough lore for multiple parts. hopper is lowkey a prick whoop whoop.

havent posted in a while but i wrote this (shitty) gem from a few weeks ago.

<3

Surely, this would be a good day. Surely.

Well, that is what I was thinking before I was sprinting down the road, trying my best to avoid the cops. Needless to say, now I’m restrained by an all-too-familiar chief of police and he’s hauling ass to his cop car, which would now be 50 or so feet from where I’m currently standing.

I’m trying to break free so I can sprint in another direction and pray to god it works. Maybe into the woods, break line of sight. We’re by the backroads, so there’s not a lot of people, though maybe losing face in a crowd would be what I need.

I seemed to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was near Billy’s shithole of a house, just when the cops showed up, and of course, they had to assume I was to blame. Now, at a worse place at a worse time, I’m harshly pressed into the hood of Jim’s car, and he’s struggling to keep my arms in place to put them into a pair of handcuffs. His body is tightly holding me into place, but god damn, I am not getting arrested right now.

“Let me go, Hopper!” I shout, trying to pull my arms out of his grip so I can use them to push him off. I try to move any of my limbs in any direction as an attempt to get him off me.

“Stop struggling.” He says, as he meets my face, feeling the stubble of his moustache brush my ear. I freeze for a moment; before continuing anyway.

“I wasn’t even at that stupid Hargrove’s house! You already arrested all of the assholes there, why are you harassing me!”

He lets out a few grunt, and then I hear a click and feel cold metal around my wrists, so I struggle more as he tries to stand us both up, still pressed against him as he tries to not let me escape him.

“Get the fuck off me, Jim.”

“Watch it.” He breathes out, “You’re about to get us both into somethin’ you don’t wanna get into.”

“I don’t wanna get arrested by some pig! Not over some shit I didn’t do!”

He finally brought some distance between us as he turned me around, looking at me face to face, though still trying to keep me in place with a hand firmly on my shoulder. I was trying to analyse the situation, there was one, semi-large, semi-hard, glaring problem.

Maybe all that struggling was not the wisest idea I could’ve had.

“Are you hard right now?” I said, with a bitter taste on my tongue, deciding to get rid of that taste by spitting right in his face.

“I told you to stop struggling.” He said through gritted teeth as he wiped the saliva with the back of his hand. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He gestured towards the backseat.

“What? This, or you?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/n.”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m telling the truth this time, promise!” He began to shove me, before I tried to intervene once again, desperation levels rising to a shameful amount. “Hey! Hey! Maybe we can work something out!”

“I’m taking you in and if you don’t stop talking, I’ll find some way to shut you up.” He seemed unphased despite the half-mast tent in his pants. He glared at me, speaking sternly. “And don’t fucking spit at me again.”

“I’m not friends with Billy, I’m sober as a judge here, Hop!” I furrowed my eyebrows, “Plus, it’s not like you can walk into the station with a boner, can you? Or are you willing to bet it’ll go away by then?”

“You’re right. I can’t. I know what you’re implying, I also can’t..” He hesitated for a moment. “..Act on it with someone under my custody.”

He could sense the sardonic attitude behind my voice. “Why not?”

“Don’t play that game with me.” He said, pushing me again towards the backseat, though I crashed into the side-mirror of his car, letting out a moan of pain which made him, and his buddy, a bit more rash.

“Help me, help you?” I said with a fake grin, trying to push his buttons, either as a tease or a genuine way to get into his pants. “C’mon, what d’ya got to lose?”

“My job.”

“I won’t tell no one. C’mon, I’ll help you out and you can think about letting innocent ol’ me go, how’s that?”

Is it bad that through the numerous times Chief Hopper has thrown me in jail, I’ve always thought, ‘might as well go out with a bang, right?’, he’d been on my ass for years, either for underage drinking or hanging around pot, he’d find some way to get me in handcuffs. I was old enough to do both of those now, and for once, I was completely innocent.

“If you’re so innocent, why’d you run?”

“Look, I was just at the wrong place, wrong time. I saw sirens comin’ at me, what d’ya think I’m gonna do?” I could feel the tension; sexual or not, it was thick in the air. He was clearly sexually frustrated, and look at him, of course he would be. Sure, he was hot, but it’s not like the chief of police gets many weekends.

“I’ve heard you use that excuse before.”

“I’m telling the truth here! What have I got to lose? You’re hard and I’d fuck you to get out this time. I’m not sitting in a drunk tank with Billy!”

“Why’d you run?”

“Fine! I got pot on me! But it’s not from Billy!”

“Where?” He said sternly, trying to pull it off me. I didn’t want to admit it was in my bra, so I tried to avoid eye contact. “Where.” He repeated, louder.

“It’s in my bra..” I said, still avoiding eye contact. He looked at the buttons to my white and green shirt, deciding if he should or not. I rolled my eyes at him, almost to urge him to just hurry up and get on with it.

He quickly began unbuttoning the shirt, it was probably not his best choice, but once it was unbuttoned, he tugged it out of my jeans and tried to push it as best he could off my torso. He took in the view for a moment, but only a moment.

“Where?”

“Left side.” He raised his large hands to put his hand on my right; “MY left.”

Granted, I hadn’t exactly prepared for this moment, so my bra was an off-skin tone, and wasn’t exactly ‘sexy’. He put his hand in the cup of my bra, feeling it for a moment, his fingers grazing my nipple, before he pulled his hand away, with a small baggie of mix in his hands.

“Look, I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong, okay?.. I’ll do anything, I just.. Please don’t bust me for this.”

He looked at the bag, and he exhaled sharply, you could see the cogs turning in his brain, like clockwork, deciding. Weighing his options, even.

“Anything?” He spoke almost silently.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He said, “I’m serious.”

I hesitated for a moment, before simply nodding, and he let out a shaky sigh before grabbing my face, he was still rightfully so, very angry at me, so he firmly pried my mouth open.

“Swallow it.” He spoke sternly before spitting in my mouth.

I swallowed it immediately, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

It took me by surprise how quick the tables had turnt, and his breath shook, and he quickly opened the backseat door, pushing me towards it, though I still stood upright. He had full control, so it seems he wasn’t just going to bend me over and fuck me. At least, not right away.

He pressed his mouth on mine, one hand holding me in place by the waist and the other holding onto the roof of the car. Slowly, he moved his hands down, playing with my belt until he could tug down my jeans so they rested around my knees.

“Hop, c’mon.” I breathed, pulling away though his mouth chased mine slightly. He peaked down, eyeing white panties with a small bow on the elastic.

He pulled away fully, then fiddled with the belt of his own pants, before unbuttoning them and leaving it open like that. I tried to open my legs for him though I was restricted, he pressed our clothed crotches together, a sigh escaping him as he did.

“Can you.. unbutton your shirt?” I asked, a little more timid than I would’ve liked. He gave a short nod, before unbuttoning his shirt so I had a decent view. He was fit, though obviously rockin’ a bit of a dad bod. A good amount of hair and honestly, I could be mad about the last screw I might have for a while, yet I’m not.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Please.” I responded softly, leaning towards him though he simply pulled away. He seemed proud of himself, devolving me into almost begging for it, yet also unsatisfied. “Sir? Please?”

“You’re so smart, such a fast learner.” He said, though it somehow sounded like he was degrading me, and yet, it was driving me crazy.

“I.. I want to touch you.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“C’mon, Hop. Don’t tease me.” I pleaded with him, and it must’ve worked.

Almost like a switch went off; it was quick, but not harsh, he turned me around and bent me over the back seat.

“Beg for it.”

“I’m not begging for it.”

He took a fist of my hair and pushed my face into the seat, speaking sternly. “Don’t act like you’re not a slut. I’ve heard the stories. Beg.”

“Shit, please.” He pushed my face further; “Please, sir, please!”

“For such a fast learner, you’d think you’d know how to keep out of trouble.” He said, alongside rustling of fabric, I assume pulling your pants down with only one hand isn’t easy. “Last time. Were you at Hargroves or not?”

This was probably the most evil form of interrogation.

“No! I swear it, I hate his guts; him, and his shitty weed. What do I gain from lying to you right now!”

“You do whatever you can to get your kicks out of me. I know you get around. The amount of drunk-tank ramblings about the vixen behaviour you get up to, who knows, this is just another way to fuck with me.”

“Tough talk coming from you.”

“Quit acting like a brat.” He snarled, “You want this, you need this.”

“I don’t.” I lied, and he could tell.

“So if I just pulled up my pants and undid those handcuffs, you wouldn’t kneel and beg about how you need me? I see how you look at me.”

Shit. He played into exactly what I meant and he’s still got me caught.

“No, I mean, yes, I dunno!” I cried with urgency.

“Say you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jim, please.”

“Exactly. Look how wet you are.”

He pulled down my panties, soaked beyond any chance of denial, or even dignity I could possibly have left. He shakily breathed, lining himself up to my entrance to only grind against the slickness, teasing.

“Jim, please, I’ll be good, please. I’ll stop getting into trouble, just—”

Almost like a heaven-sent miracle, he began slowly pushing himself deeper, one hand the chain of the handcuffs, and the other still tightly in my hair.

“Oh, shit.” He groaned, bottoming out in a smooth movement.

He began at a slow pace, just to feel the way he felt as he moved. It wasn’t fast enough to build any pleasure.

“Faster, my god.” The pace was agonisingly slow.

“I bet you like it rough, huh?” His grip on my hair tightened, almost stinging.

“Shut up—”

“The rumours are right, aren’t they?” He grunted.

“No, ‘m a good girl.” I panted, “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Are you? How long have you wanted to fuck me?”

“If I tell you, will you fuck me like you mean it?” I pleaded, “C’mon, fuck me real hard, please — I’m good for it.”

He rolled his eyes and began thrusting, the sound of wet slapping sound quietly echoing through the woods.

“You really are just a slut, look at you.” He laughed, letting go of my hair and reaching around and grabbing my throat, pulling me upright. “Answer my question.”

“So long, Jim, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re such a little bitch? Why you’re on my nerves all. the. fucking. time?”

“Yeah, ‘m sorry, please.”

“Stop getting into so much fucking trouble.” He cursed, finally letting go of the loose chokehold and grabbing both hips to fuck into me harder, though completely stopping instead.. “All this so I’ll fuck you? Huh?”

“Yes! I’m better than the other dumb whores you fuck, god, shit.”

“Yeah? You want me all to yourself? Say it.”

“I want you, now fucking move!”

He began thrusting again, I went limp and slumped over, he was groaning and only now beginning to lose his composure. I was drooling over the carseat, my eyes were rolling back into my skull, all over some stupid cop with an amazing dick.

“Y’re so nice aren’t you, you’re so good, you’re gonna let me cum right? ‘m your good girl, please, touch my clit, ‘m so close, please, you’ll let me—”

“Look at you, so needy.” He panted, reaching down to toy with my clit. “God, I’m so close, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please!” I began chanting as I unwound on him, “Oh, fuck, I’m—”

I clenched around him and felt the rush of the orgasm hit me like a wave, he shuddered and kept fucking into me until my orgasm rode out.

“Feels so good, y’so good..” I mumbled tiredly, feeling him pull his still-hard cock out. “What? What are you doing?”

“I’m not cumming inside you.” He said, stroking his cock to completion.

“Please. Want your cum, please.” I mumbled into the carseat.

“Fine, I’m gonna..” He groaned in annoyance though it could also pass as pleasure.

“Thank you, sir.”

He kept jerking himself off, “Ugh, Y/n, fuck, I’m—” He grunted as he came on the panties still bunched around my knees.

“Can you.. help me.. get dressed?” I mumbled. He sighed, pulling up my panties and jeans before rolling me over to do up the button and zip. “I can feel your cum, s’warm.”

“Yeah. It is.” He sighed, buttoning up the tshirt and scooting me into the car fully.

He got into the driver’s seat and began turning on the car, talking into his walkie talkie about something or other. “Are you goin’ to take me home?”

“No, Y/n. I have to take you to the station for the pot.”

I groaned tiredly. “Oh, fuck off, Hopper.”

[gremlin-bot]

Gremlin's ABC'S chapter fic project!

Background:

Some people in the DpxDc server and I came up with the idea for a fic that has every chapter in alphabetical order! We added to this concept by saying what If every chapter was written by a different author. This is how this project started!

project details:

I want to invite people to create a fic that each chapter title will be in alphabetical order and have a different author.

Participants will be able to read all chapters before their own and any tags that have been added to the fic. They may also write however much they want in their chapter but they only get one chapter. Everything in that chapter is up to you including style, character, chapter title and new plot. Just remember that this is a continuous fic! All I encourage you is to have fun!

Chapter titles could look like this for example:

Chapter 1: Anything could happen Chapter 2: beatboxing to happiness Chapter 3: cinders Chapter 4: Don't look into the water, the bodies aren't there.

If beneficial we can have a shared Google planning doc with any important information to remember being written into it! If we do this no planned future plot can be written in it! That being said I wouldn't discourage anyone from reaching out to the authors that wrote before or after you! 

This will be a long term project with no set end date. All participants will get any and all the time they want or need, this is for fun after all!! I plan to post this on Ao3 with everyone as co-authors. If you don’t have an ao3 but still want to participate I can credit you in your chapter in the beginning notes and link to your social of choice, or if you think of something better tell me! 

Dm me for sign up or any questions and concerns!

{fic found here, spots still open}

[historicallyaccuratecheese]

Well, I guess I’m continuing to make these now! Here’s the next part of my thoughts on every Magnus Archives episode! Now, last time I said that I was planning to write about episodes 21-40 in the next post, but as it turns out, the hyperfixation has set in and my thoughts are a LOT longer (so buckle up if you want to read this), and I also reached the tag limit. So, I’m only going to be covering episodes 21-30 here, and then I’ll write about episodes 31-40, and this 10 episode trend will probably continue for the rest of the posts, but that just means I’ll be able to put them out faster.

Also, unlike my first post, where I wrote all of my thoughts after finishing episode 20, all of these ones were written right after I finished the specific episode I talked about, so my thoughts are a lot more clearly documented. Finally, there’s a link to my masterpost, which will contain all the post’s detailing my thoughts on every episode before and after these ones.

Once again, no spoilers for future episodes please, and for anyone who hasn’t watched up to episode 30, spoilers are under the cut, so I recommend turning away until you’ve caught up. :)

- Episode 21, Freefall 🪂

Statement of Moira Kelly, regarding the disappearance of her son Robert.

WHAT THE FUCK??!! MARTIN??!! DAMN, I guess the horrors did get to him! Well, it’s nice to finally meet him, even if his first line was dropping shit on the ground. Either way, I get the vibe I’m in for a wild ride for this second half. ….What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the actual statement. Anyways this one upset me. Not only did it bring out my fear of heights pretty well, but the portrayal of a grieving mother who can’t comprehend what happened to her son was really heartbreaking. The line “The sky ate him” was kind of comedic at first, especially with Jon’s following reaction (love this guy btw, he’s such a loser), but then it became really horrific when I realized how it was just Moira desperately trying to make sense of the impossible horrors she just witnessed. The plot thread set up with Simon and Harriet Fairchild is also very interesting, and the whole sky thing kind of reminded me of Dominic’s visions in Ep. 4. Overall another one of many fantastic episodes, but HOLY SHIT I’M SCARED.

- Episode 22, Colony 🔦

Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a close encounter with something he believes to have once been Jane Prentiss. Statement taken direct from subject.

….aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Ok let’s start from the top. Firstly, I’m really happy we finally got to meet Martin in this episode, and he’s great! Honestly he comes off as more dorky than stupid, and just comes off as a real sweetheart, so Jon’s distaste for him (outside of very different personalities), gets more mysterious. Though all things considered, after what he experienced, I don’t think that the bullying is his biggest worry anymore… Alexander J. Newall does a fantastic delivery, as much as I love Jon’s readings, you can really feel how terrified Martin is here (also “Blackwood” is a sick as fuck last name, and I related to him trailing off about spiders…) Outside of Martin himself, we have Jane Prentiss (or what remains of her) and…well, let’s just say that I don’t find the sex worms nearly as funny anymore. Jane and the worms inside her are absolutely terrifying, and while I would say I’m excited to learn more about her, I wouldn’t be complaining if the institute staff never had to deal with her again. Also the text episode made me, if you’ll excuse my language…squirm. Honestly, this might just be my favorite episode so far. The way that the plot threads from previous episodes connected here was extremely satisfying, and needless to say, I’m very excited and horrified to see where the show goes from here.

- Episode 23, Schwartzwald 🇩🇪

Statement of Albrecht von Closen, regarding a discovered tomb near his estate in the Black Forest.

Worst episode ever because Jon didn’t do a German accent, smh. Ok but in all seriousness, I really liked this one! It wasn’t the strongest in terms of complex themes in my opinion, but it had a great vibe, and was still very interesting, entertaining, and decently creepy. Having a “statement” written before the archives was founded is a really cool idea that’s executed perfectly here, and while we didn’t learn that much about Jonah Magnus, I still found it cool to get a first glimpse of the archives’ history. (Also, given the eye imagery that appears both in here and in other episodes, I can’t help but feel like Albrecht’s wording of Jonah having “good eyes” or something like that is a little weird…) And…now that we have the instance of something that isn’t a statement, but is important being in the archives, I absolutely agree with the idea that Gertrude Robinson organized these poorly on purpose, so that Jon would get the knowledge he needed to have. Regardless, this whole episode had the vibes of a classic ghost story, which while not as weird and off-putting as some of the other horror here, was still a nice change of pace overall. The descriptions of The Schwartzwald were really well done and added to the atmosphere, and I just like the fact that we have another historical episode, that’s also set outside of The UK. Also, the way that they played with the time period at the end was amazing, I already had my suspicions due to the eye imagery, but the reveal of Mary Keay (and therefore Gerard Wa- I mean Keay) being a descendant of Albrecht was still really cool. I also do wonder if the Arabic book was eventually found by Jurgen Leitner in the future…eh, food for thought. Lastly, I loved Martin jumping in out of nowhere, it was both funny, and a grim reminder about how fucked the archives supposedly are, yippee!

Wow, these are a lot longer than my previous thoughts. This, my sweet children, is a phenomenon called “brain rot”.

- Episode 24, Strange Music 🪆

Statement of Leanne Denikin, regarding an antique calliope organ she possessed briefly in August 2004.

Jon, honey, are we not going to elaborate on the fact that one of ✨the horrors✨is literally inside the institute? Like, HELLO? That’s not terrifying at all! Anwyays, this episode continues the trend of making me scared of things I’m not initially scared of, yippee! It had great vibes as well, the weird shit in the attic was made to be as creepy as possible. Initially, I didn’t find this one to be too scary, and figured it was going to go in the direction of “music makes people feel kind of weird”. AND THEN JOSHUA GETS KILLED AND TURNED INTO A DOLL HELLO??!!! Like, I know he was kind of a toxic boyfriend, but DAMN, whatever was behind the calliope and the dolls did NOT have to go that far. (Also until the end I thought he might be Joshua Gillepsie, and like, I don’t care how toxic he is, but you do not dump a guy who bested an evil coffin with his freezer.) Outside of that, It was really cool to meet Sasha! I like her voice, and the introduction was quite funny. (Also, even as someone who has lived in England for over two years, and has a family that is 90% British, nothing hurt more that Jon’s “Americans”.) Lastly, I have a theory, which I like to call “Ringmaster? More like cult leader.” Because I’M SORRY, but you cannot convince me that a CIRCUS, called THE CIRCUS OF THE OTHER, which possessed a HAUNTED CALLIOPE ORGAN, is anything but a cult. (Watch me when I’m inevitably wrong lmao.)

I guess now is a better time than any to say that I’m kind of wondering if there’s an in-universe reason for the music in the background? I mean, considering that the whole framing device is Jon recording these statements, I have to wonder if there’s a reason for the noise we hear, especially with the worms in Ep. 22 and the music in Ep. 24.

- Episode 25, Growing Dark ⛪️

Statement of Mark Bilham, regarding events culminating in his visit to Hither Green Chapel.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I LOVE BEING RIGHT!!! I saw the episode title and immediately assumed this would continue the lore of Episode 9, and I WAS SO RIGHT!!! (Also, I now just noticed that the PCOTDH’s symbol is a closed eye, while The Keay Family’s symbol is an open eye…my cult theory thickens…) Anyways, this was another very enjoyable episode! Firstly, even though it’s far from the first piece of media to do so, I though the way they portrayed a cult brainwashing someone when they’re most vulnerable was very well handled and pretty depressing. I also really enjoyed how the episode isn’t the most weird and paranormal on it’s own, but the knowledge of the connections to Ep. 9 makes us know that it DEFINITELY is, even when the characters in the story don’t. The episode was certainly very spooky, the description of the spinach and the dark church definitely got me. (Also my mom came into my room briefly and when she left she accidentally turned off the light and I nearly screamed.) There were also some really interesting plot threads set up here, like the chanting of the northern most human settlement in the world, the mention of “three hundred years waiting”, and I also wonder if “Mr. Pitch” is an alias for “Detective Rayner.” then…the ending. Holy shit. You know, maybe I DON’T need to know what happened to Gertrude….

Episode 26, A Distortion ☕️

Statement of Sasha James, assistant archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a series of paranormal sightings. Statement taken direct from subject.

I…what…I don’t even…we are so fucked. Ok, there’s a LOT going on here, but I’ll try my best to formulate my thoughts as clearly as possible. Firstly, this episode easily scared me the most so far, I agree with Jon when he says that the horrors being somewhat friendly is scarier than them being antagonistic, like HOLY SHIT this one was unnerving. But with that out of the way…uh…let’s talk about Sasha! She’s really cool, I like how her character gives us a lot more insight into what working in the archives is like for a fairly regular person (i say this because Jon is weird as fuck and Martin is too nice to be normal, and I mean that as kindly as possible). But…while I don’t necessarily doubt her status as the most level-headed person in the archives, I don’t think that’s saying much. Like, she saw a creepy guy with weird-ass hands who spoke in riddles and knew too much about her and her coworkers, and followed him into a dilapidated building, also she works at the council of ghost stories despite not liking horror. Like, no offense, I’m sure she’s overall an intelligent person, as are most people in the archives, but none of them are beating Joshua Gillepsie anytime soon (yes I’m still thinking about him.) But mentioning the guy with fucked up hands, WHO OR WHAT EVEN WAS THAT??!! I have very little ideas as to how this “Micheal” even connects to the greater picture. I know some people connected him to the mentions of the man with bones in his hands in Episode 8, but that honestly reminds me more of the Leitner in Episode 17. Outside of that, his name is quite interesting, I initially thought that he might be Micheal Crew, but given that Sasha doubts it being his real name, I have my suspicions (although it would give us a connection between this, the words in Episode 8, and The Boneturner’s Tale….hm….) However, I could absolutely see him being Micheal Keay, as he gives off enough ghost vibes to pass as him (and I’m assuming that if Gerard’s dead, Micheal is as well.) Also he is not described as having a Lichtenburg figure on him so…yeah. Lastly, we have the return of THE SEX WORMS. And as happy(?) as I am to see that The Magnus Archives, a podcast developed by RustyQuill.com, that is also licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, is continuing it’s message of staying abstinent, all things considered, that was absolutely terrifying. I just LOVE the knowledge that the worms are a hive-mind and that Jane might not be the source, I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. In conclusion, I am probably going to sleep with a fire extinguisher tonight, and I am very scared for what the next 14 episodes have in store for me.

Also I guess I’ll mention Tim (the archival assistant, not the dead guy) here because why not. So far I’m getting major bastard energy from people’s descriptions of him, which means I will either love or hate him. Also I found it very funny but also kind of sad that Jon said he only trusts Tim to not prank him in Episode 11, and then he pulled a prank shortly before this statement took place.

- Episode 27, A Sturdy Lock 🔑

Statement of Paul McKenzie, regarding repeated nocturnal intrusions into his home.

Ok, after everything that happened in the last episode, it was nice to get a short and sweet one here. Well, as sweet as an episode of a horror podcast can be. Overall, this one isn’t my favorite, I thought it was a little bit under the standards of creativity for the show as a whole, but that’s obviously not saying much, as it was still pretty damn good in its own right. I think it was definitely very effective with its storytelling, and credit where credit is due, it certainly brought out my fear of weird noises in the middle of the night. And even if I can’t personally resonate with this aspect of it, I do really appreciate how it tackled the idea of mental illness at old age, and while I’d be surprised if the statement wasn’t real, considering where the show seems to be going, it did a very good job at planting seeds of doubt in my mind. But still, it was genuinely pretty crushing how Paul had no proof throughout the entire thing, along with how the cops treated him. It really did make me thing about what would have happened if he hadn’t washed the blood off his hands. It still had a creepy atmosphere, and the reveals at the end were pretty interesting, I hope they show us Marcus’ statement soon enough. Also, the aspect of loneliness in this one did remind me a lot of what happened in Episode 13, so I wonder if there’s some connection there. (Also, I love how I’m 27 episodes in and Jon is STILL roasting Gertrude’s organizational skills.) So while this one isn’t the most interesting for me, I still enjoyed it, and it was nice to have a slightly lighter one after Episode 26. I hope Sasha had a good few days off, she deserves it.

- Episode 28, Skintight 📷

Statement of Melanie King, regarding events at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital during filming in January 2015. Statement taken direct from subject.

WHOA THAT WAS SO GOOD!!! Ok, I feel like I should start off with my thoughts on the basic premise, as while those episode is certainly…not the most humorous in its execution, the premise itself kind of is. I don’t know why, but I just thought the idea of there being an in-universe competitor was a really fun concept that was executed perfectly here. It kind of reminds me of something like Hatchetfield and Clivesdale (I don’t know how many people reading this will understand that, but there seems to be overlap between TMA fans and Hatchetfield fans, and also like, shut up, let me indulge in my hyperfixations.) The bickering between Melanie and Jon was great, as was Melanie herself, I’d love to see her again as I think she oddly brought a lot to the world of the series. Although I will say that, while it doesn’t make me like him any less, Jon’s reluctance to buy into statements is a lot more frustrating when there’s another person in the room. I also absolutely love the fact that there’s an in-universe spooky podcast mentioned by name, like, come one, that’s genuinely hilarious. But comedic value aside, this one was definitely pretty creepy. In a similar vain to what Episode 23 was doing, the whole “young people enter creepy abandoned building to film stuff and then get genuinely scared” concept felt evocative of other classic horror stories, and the way they spun it into the context of the show was great. The atmosphere was definitely very creepy as well, as I have mentioned, hospitals creep me the fuck out. And lastly…oh my god, THE CONNECTIONS. So, I’ll start off by saying that all of the skin shit reminded me of what happened in Episode 18 (which I hope is true because I think some connections to other things would make me like that episode more). But that pales in comparison to the fact that we have stuff on THE ANGLERFISH, HOLY FUCK THE ANGLERFISH. I’m SO glad that they didn’t throw it away just because it was in the pilot episode. In retrospect, I think that the story of Episode 1 isn’t quite my favorite. It doesn’t really have to be, as I think the main draw of the episode is getting a first look at the framing device and general vibe of the entire podcast, but the stories didn’t really grab me until Episode 2, which is still one of my favorites. But MAN, this episode really made me appreciate the setup at the beginning so much more, and the knowledge that the people who walked into the alley didn’t necessarily die, meaning that all of those names could potentially come back, is SO exciting to me. In fact, when you consider that Sarah was kind of going through what looked like a possession, I wonder if The Anglerfish is a figure of worship in a cult, if that theory is to be true. (Also I have relatives that live in the same area as Sarah so…maybe I should tell them to watch out for their neighbor lmao.) So yeah, this…this show is just really freaking good.

Note: I have discovered the Leitner rant, and therefore I have achieved true enlightenment.

- Episode 29, Cheating Death ♟️

Statement of Nathaniel Thorp, regarding his own mortality.

I should start off by saying that I love the episode title for this, like, it’s not even metaphorical, the guy literally cheated in a game against death. Well, anyways, the main thing that caught me about the episode was how it absolutely blindsided me. While I was right about the soldier being the same as the statement giver, which I think was supposed to be obvious, everything else in those last six or so minutes left me with a wide-open jaw. (Also, can I just say that I love how poetic this guy just…decided to be? Like, I just love it when the statements really show of personalities with the way they’re written, and it comes with a cool framing device.) Regardless, I initially assumed that it was going in a very traditional line. Nathaniel cheats death, becomes immortal, and regrets it in modern day because he’s lived longer that he really should have. That, combined with the fact that “Death” didn’t seem like the one of the more creative horror monsters in the show so far, had me so prepared to just write this one off as one of my least favorites (once again, not like that’s saying much.) And then the twist comes and HOLY SHIT I WAS WRONG. The idea of there basically being multiple grim reapers at the hands of some unknowable power, who have to gain successors to finally die themselves is absolutely terrifying and extremely clever. I tip my hat to you Rusty Quill, you did a great job at fooling me. Kind of funny considering how this is a story about being punished for your hubris (which seems to be a recurring theme???) I have a few other small thoughts as well. Firstly, I can’t help but shake the feeling that Nathaniel Thorp was an actual revolutionary war soldier, but I can’t find anything online other than the character from this episode. Also, the fact that his fate remains unknown makes me think he’ll show up again, as it seems weird to NOT end the story with confirmation of his death, given the themes. Secondly, a lot of the…less than pleasant imagery here definitely reminded me of Piecemeal and The Boneturner’s Tale. I don’t remember the story inside that Leitner very well, but I might check just in case there’s any parallels between it and this statement. (Update: Not really.) And finally, I was just a little bit intrigued by the fact that we learn no one who was working at the institute in 1972 works there anymore. It’s probably nothing, but given the mysteries surrounding Gertrude’s death, I’m just a little suspicious, both in general, and of Elias because he’s still around. Overall this episode went hard, I’m still kind of stunned by what it pulled off.

Jane Prentiss statement…save me…save me Jane Prentiss statement…

- Episode 30, Killing Floor 🍖

Statement of David Laylow, regarding his time working at an industrial abattoir near Dalton.

You know what, Jon is right, there’s a lot of meat in this show. Not that I’m complaining, I mean, it does fuel my obsession with connecting the dots between statements. Regardless, while this isn’t among my favorite episodes so far, I still had a good time with it. The reason it’s not one of my favorites is purely personal, as I don’t do too well with animal violence. Like, as much as I do really appreciate how viscerally Jonny Sims can describe the statements, I will admit that the opening minutes describing the slaughter house made me more uneasy than the actual horror, and not in a particularly fun way, but it was overall fine. Speaking of the actual horror, that was actually pretty good. The endless hallways lined with doors that lead to precarious situations also kind of tapped into a personal fear of mine, but in a more fun and digestible way. And while the idea of “imagine humans being slaughtered like animals” is something I’ve seen many a time before, it was still much more well executed than many other interpretations of the idea (*cough cough*, peta) and there were also plenty of other interesting themes and ideas, like how the episode touched on the inherent horror of working in a job as gruesome as the killing floor, being enslaved to said job, and the idea that maybe we’re all just walking sacks of meat in the end, and nothing more. As for some other thoughts, I was definitely creeped out by Tom Han, I’m not sure whether or not he’s someone who spreads ✨the horrors✨or someone affected by ✨the horrors✨, and his sudden disappearance was certainly…odd. On top of that, it’s admittedly haunting to know that there’s still creepy stuff going on at the slaughter house, and that this isn’t something that happened to David, and only David. Overall, a pretty good episode, I don’t have much to say about it, but it was a fun time overall.

Tim…save me…save me Tim…

Well, if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Genuinely means the world to me when there are people willing to listen to me ramble about my horrible (affectionate) interests lmao. I should have my thoughts on the final episodes of Season 1 out in due time, and while I’m sure it’s obvious, I’m absolutely hooked on this podcast. It absolutely has the potential to become one of my favorite things ever if the overarching plot becomes more involved and this is coming from someone who up until now, wasn’t all that gripped by podcasts. While I’m a little sad that I’m as late to the party as I am, then I remembered “oh yeah, I was in elementary school when this horrifying series came out”, and I’m also hopeful that I’ll be able to be around for The Magnus Protocol while it’s airing (I know it premieres in like a week but still.) Anyways, thanks for reading and hopefully you’ll be around for my thoughts on the next batch :)

[thedemonscrawler]

When the dust settles

You know how the AO3 tag is "I wrote this instead of sleeping"? Yeah, well, I literally went to bed and then wrote a 1.5k oneshot instead of falling asleep the other night 8'D

Set in the same continuity as my recently posted oneshot Charade, where Sun and Eclipse are forced to work together and have developed a begrudging camaraderie over it.

This is much later in the timeline where Sun and Eclipse have gone from Enemies to Friends That Are Still Enemies to I Think We're Just Friends Now. Killcode (who was not nice) had the star and was defeated, Eclipse had the star briefly but was talked out of changing things (which he didn't even really want to do by this point), everyone is tired and came back from the final showdown and passed out. 

-----

He comes online to an empty room. 

He's an animatronic, so there's no wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, and so it's his sluggish processor that delays recognition. Dimmed lights strung over the walls, a playhouse meant for children on the floor. The surface under his cheek and hand gives slightly when he presses on it, fabric made colorless without light. 

The Daycare. He was in the Daycare, curled up on one of the couches.

A shudder runs through his frame and he curls tighter under the piece of fabric covering his body. Blankets weren't the smartest thing to toss over a robot, given the risk of overheating, yet the fabric doesn't feel like a blanket, and his internal temperature isn't in the red. 

It's green–  but green only meant 'not running hot', and he isn't. He feels cold. 

Shaking fingers run over the edge of the cloth, trying to ground or distract himself. The fabric feels soft and slippery, like the satin of the Daycare Attendant’s ribbons. Raised edging outlines a design in some material that doesn't catch, yet has enough lift to be felt. 

His cape. That's right, he'd made a cape with the star’s power. He'd been wearing it when he'd followed the Daycare Attendants home, too tired and stressed to think about anything, and he'd gone to sleep still wrapped up in it. 

He's still tired and stressed, but he's not asleep anymore. 

Soft static crackles in his chest, and dim golden eyes peep out into the dark room. The dark, empty room. That hadn't bothered him so much when he was asleep, but it does now that he's awake and aware. The longer he sits here curled under his cape, the more tense he becomes, until to his exhausted horror a chirp escapes him. 

Like a bird trapped in a cage. Like a lost child calling for help.

Disgust wells up in his chest and he sits up, and almost immediately regrets it when something like nausea washes through him. He'd only held the star for a couple of hours at most, yet there hasn't been nearly enough time for his systems to recover from both that and the considerable strain of the ordeal preceding it. The cold settles over the disgust, smothering it, seeping into his limbs, and he shudders again, clutching the cape tightly around his shoulders.

No good. He's still too cold.

Another chirp rises in his throat, though this one he's able to swallow back down. He knows what he wants– who he wants. A habit of mutual comfort and cooperation couldn't be forgotten in only twelve hours, even if the situation was different now, and with a shaky exhale he forces himself to his feet. One hand holds the cape close at his throat, the other presses against the wall for balance as he slowly makes his way to the door at the side of the room. 

He knows this is Sun's room; it isn't as if the Daycare has gone through any kind of massive renovations in the past six or so months, so this has to be Sun's room. However, when he pokes the flat disk of his head in past the doorframe, all he sees are two furry lumps curled up on the recharge pad. At the sound of the door the lumps sprout heads, then paws, and his exhausted mind only barely reacts in time to close the door before Sun's cats escape. He stares at the painted wood in fuzzy incomprehension, hearing a couple of plaintive mews and scratching before silence returns.

Another shudder persists as a faint shivering, and his gaze slowly drops to the floor. The cold knots in his chest and the base of his throat, emotions that he's too tired to sort through, only feeling their painful tug at his core. Sun… wasn't here?

No, no. Don't panic, think. This was Sun's home, he'd followed the Daycare Attendant back here. Sun had been here when he fell asleep, so if he wasn't in his room then…

Slowly he turns around, staring at the dark mouth of the tunnel across the room. Belatedly he realizes that it makes sense, that Sun would want to stay near the brother he hasn't seen in months, rather than sleep alone. It was a similar feeling as to why he was shuffling back the way he'd come, focused despite the haze settling over his mind and the cold wracking his body.

(Something must be malfunctioning. It wasn't normal for an animatronic to get cold, let alone feel like they were freezing. The cape helps, but only just.)

The tunnel presents its own challenge. Carefully, slowly, he manages to get down to his knees without disaster–  but the tunnel itself is narrow, too narrow for his rays, and they knock against the curved ceiling painfully. Crawling without accidentally catching the cape is a challenge, too, one that he fails so that his hand catches and he overbalances, hitting the plastic with a muffled thud.

It doesn't exactly hurt; his right hand aches, of course, but it already ached. What's new is the ache in his shoulder and hip, and he lays where he is for several minutes, venting hard, trying to fight back the exhaustion that drags at him to just go back to sleep where he is no matter how cold and alone he might be. 

"Eclipse?"

It takes him another handful of seconds to realize someone has spoken, voice suitability quiet for the late hour. He doesn't recognize it exactly, but it's proof that there's someone at the other end of the tunnel, and that's all the encouragement he needs to scramble onward, until he emerges in Moon's room. 

It's even darker in here than the main room, given the lack of any windows or doors, though the walls are covered in fake stars. The converted arcade cabinet is on, and its screen adds a little light. While he sits on the floor collecting his bearings, the same quiet voice speaks up, and this time he recognizes it. 

"Oh, good. For a moment we thought you had passed out," says the Computer. 

He huffs quietly, drawing his cape a little tighter around his shaking shoulders. His vocalizer feels raw somehow, and it's a struggle to keep his voice between a whisper and inaudible. "Not… yet. Though the tunnel has.. never been that tempting.. before." 

The Computer’s screen flickers briefly. "Why are you awake?"

"Something's malfunctioning, temperature regulation is off… don't think it's serious. Maybe." He brings a hand up to cover his face. "Just… don't want to be alone.. right now."

"...understood." His head feels like it's full of mush, but the Computer almost sounds nice. Maybe he's in worse shape than he thinks if Moon’s Computer is pitying him. "We'll run a scan while you're asleep."

"Thank you." And he means it. 

It's a small mercy that Moon's bed is more of a nest of pillows on the floor rather than anything he'd have to stand up to get onto. As expected both Daycare animatronics are curled up together, colors faded by darkness so that the only way to really tell them apart was Sun's rays and Moon’s hat, and he spends a long moment just staring at them. Something pricks at him under the cold, a different kind of pain settling in his core. 

He doesn't belong here. Not in this room, not in the Daycare, not in the Pizzaplex. Hell, considering he's a backup, he doesn't even really belong in this world anymore. He doesn't regret giving up the star, exactly, but the uncertainty of what he's supposed to do with himself is just as agonizing now as it was earlier.

A soft sound catches his attention, movement and bells. One of the disk-shaped heads rises out of the pillows, rays drooping with exhaustion as Sun peers around for the source of the voices. Shivering at the mouth of the tunnel with his cape around his shoulders, he's impossible to miss even in the near-darkness. 

"Clip?" Sun's voice is as rough as his own. After a moment or two the Daycare Attendant holds out a hand, offering. Inviting. "C'mere."

It's a little embarrassing to literally crawl over to his counterpart but he's too tired to care. All he seeks is the warmth the other brings, the contact and comfort of not being alone. Sun turns so that he's on his back and able to hold both Moon and his counterpart close, and in the darkness Moon doesn't look as much like Killcode, so it's easier to wrap his arms around the other, burying his face in Sun’s neck. 

"Feel better?" asks the quiet warble from near his head, and in response he just nods and offers a soft chirp. He's finally warm again.

Though, after a moment of thought he shifts a little, letting go long enough to grab the edge of his cape and try to drape it over the three of them. It… seemed right to share, even if Moon probably wasn't getting more than a corner.

Maybe he doesn't belong here, but there's a space carved out for him anyway.

Sleep claims him again soon after.

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts,

Thanks for continuously posting helpful advice.

I just wanted to know— how does someone go about getting to the point in their writing where they are not so precious with words in hopes of taking off the pressure when drafting?(in reference to a previous post)

i remember a few years ago, there was this very well known and popular fanartist whose name i won't give because they're no longer on tumblr or even going by their handle anymore. they received an ask much like this one in which they said something to the effect of, they could spend hundreds of hours on a piece of art and be willing to throw it away, because (and this is from memory because i can't find the original post) there will always be more art.

i remember being aghast about that. how could you spend so much time working on something and just...not do anything with it? scrap it and start over? maybe even delete the file?

and more importantly, i remember wondering how an artist could even reach that point.

maybe everyone gets there in a different way, but for me it was the emergence of a bigger picture, that i don't write to be read or seen or understood, but so i can explore things that can't otherwise be explored, and live experiences that can't be lived. for me, the value is in the process, not the product. and, to the artist's point, there will always be more words.

more concretely, it was also spending an entire year working on a novel, only to realize that what i wanted it to be was not what fit in the market, and that to make it marketable i would've had to have made revisions that would've changed the thing i wanted it to be. so i realized publication isn't endgame; it's happenstance. a few things i write may be marketable, but probably only a fraction of them, and only if what i write overlaps with what is being sold. a venn diagram of "stories that will be published" and "stories that i enjoy writing" are often two circles about a mile apart. whether or not a story is marketable doesn't affect my personal opinion of it.

the same is true for fanfic. if i finish a fic, i post it for the sake of archiving it. i don't pay much attention to traffic (but i do read comments), and it's been a long time since i've written consistently in a popular fandom. in fact the last fic i posted only had one other fic in the ship tag. the point of writing fic, for me, is to get it out of my brain and onto a page, and if someone eventually comes upon it and enjoys it, great.

i'm definitely not at the point where i can just straight-up delete work, but i can write something for a very long time and be satisfied even if no one ever looks at it. it does bum me out when i care about something so much and nobody else does or will, but that's the nature of writing, and art in general. nobody cares as much as you do, and even if you write something that's wildly successful, read and loved by millions, award-winning, adapted to screen--still, all those people will have their individual, private relationship with the thing you wrote, will perceive it in their own unique way, and even if it changes their life, the story can never give them what it gave you.

i don't mean for that to be depressing or deterring. what i hope you take from it is that your feelings toward your work are more important than anyone else's feelings toward it, and not everything has to be seen and admired in order to be worthy enough to exist. sometimes you have to take the risk of being unseen to create your best work.