#set to Full Houses' theme song

[sheisjoeschateau]

misha's masterlists

Hi, I'm Misha. Thank you for diving into my stories and supporting my writing :)

My fanfics [+this blog] are dedicated to Steve Harrington. All fanfic series, one-shots, blurbs, etc. listed below are written by me. Do not repost or share anywhere without proper credit. Thank you.

SERIES MASTERLISTS:

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..."

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

[PART I] | [PART II] [PART III] | [PART IV] | [PART V] [PART VI] | [PART VII] | [PART VIII]

[Part IX - blurb] | [Part IX - full]

[Part X] | MORE COMING SOON

SUMMARY: WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU.

HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU...

BUT WILL HE?

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"You're there. You've always been there."

Steve Harrington x OC!fem!reader Childhood friends to lovers. Sloooowburn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Action. Told from second-person view, reader is Nicole (character from S1), different POV, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, pre-S1-S4, eventual post-S4 universe.

[PART I] | [PART II]

Summary: Steve Harrington was six years old when he met you: Nicole St. James, the girl who carries the other half of him. Since 1972, the two of you have been inseparably tethered by the soul. You give Steve a home in his big house with no parents, and he gives your introverted heart a longing for someone. The King of Hawkins High and princess of this small town, you tell each other absolutely everything...except that you are in love with each other.

Everything changes that one afternoon at school, when you catch the school's social outcast -- Jonathan Buyers -- has been stalking Steve, his posse and his girl, Nancy. Little do you both know, the monsters in your favorite fairytales are real. And you're both going to have to fight them together.

You both share the best days and worst days, through childhood and teen years, until you both find yourselves roped into the perils that exist beneath your feet in Hawkins.

But through it all, despite all the doubt, Steve knows one thing: you're there. You've always been there.

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"At the Chateau, We'll Be Alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional Inso from Joe's theater performance as in Spring Awakening. Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

[MULTI-PART SERIES] COMING SOON. Click here for a preview.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France.  This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate.  He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good.  Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise.  A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer.  The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality.  Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants.  Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical.  A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet.  Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mishas masterlists #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #eurovision #the article in full

[xxblairexxss]

Doudou (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 (Charles’s ending)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader / Lando Norris x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

Let me know what you feel and which side are you on!

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Charles explored the aisle of chocolates, scanning each brand while holding a basket that was halfway full with packets of chocolates.

“Mate, that’s a lot. You tryna get high on sugar or something?”

He turned around and was greeted by Lando, who had an amused curiosity expression on. “I never knew you were that big fan of sweets.”

“No, my sweet racks needed a restock. I wasn’t gonna finish everything in one sitting.”

“Great. I was gonna say I’m one call away if you were overdosed with all that.” Lando had realised Charles’s behavior had been more light-hearted and carefree during the winter break. He wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the break or it was you. The last time he hung out with you, you did mentioned that you bumped into Charles but didn’t go into the details of what you guys talked about.

And he didn’t ask you because he wasn’t sure if he would like to know.

“Hey, uhm, did something happen between you and Y/N?”

The question made Charles stopped looking at the rows of chocolate. Lando never asked about you, it wasn’t a topic that he would put on the table if you weren’t presence.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. You just look different.”

“I haven’t heard her voice for so long, mate. Hearing her voice was enough to lift up my spirit even if the conversation I had with her wasn’t exactly how I wished.”

Your voice was his favourite song.

“I didn’t know you were this close with her.”

Lando was taken aback. He thought he sounded casual with the conversations but it seemed like some of his true feelings slipped off along with the words he had spoken. “No, we only shared a couple of texts and phone calls. It wasn’t anything more than that.”

“Chill, I was just saying. She deserved a good friend like you, Lando. I wasn’t gonna stop you from hanging out with her or anything. I just…wanted her to be happy and I know she’s in a good hand with her friends…. and you.”

But Lando knew Charles said that because he was far off, way far off compared to what you and him had been through.

ynusername

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ynusername bb face *(*❦ω❦)*

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username la plus belleee 😍

username Your hair is cuteee

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You scrambled through the cabinet to find that one thing that had always been there when you didn’t need it but vanished when you badly needed it, like right now.

“Ah! Here it is!”

The sound of doorbell broke the silence in your apartment. You had a slept over with your friend yesterday and the house was a mess. It wasn’t that bad but messier than usual. Your friend, Lia had decided to bake her own version of cake to celebrate your first job and to make it short, the cake wasn’t edible but it was the thoughts that was counted. So now your kitchen was a mess chocolate chips was everywhere, the dishes, the batter. It was best to say that your kitchen was under construction at the moment.

“Charles? What are you doing here?” You were in an oversized hoodie, your hair was a mess, your head was throbbing and your period cramp was like cherry on the cake. Complete set.

“Hey, I brought some chocolates for you…”

“Chocolates for…?”

“Your period cravings?”

You weren’t gonna ask how he knew about it because you knew he had always set a reminder on his phone. But you didn’t expect him to still keep the reminder on.

“You still set it on?”

“I never turned it off. I am not sure if you had a new favourite so I bought some of your all time favourite and some of them are new ones. It has new flavour written on the packaging but I didn’t buy any flavour that has fruits.”

Because you hate fruits and chocolates combination.

He rubbed on the back of his neck awkwardly and was going to walk away as you took the bag of chocolates and sweets but you stopped him.

“Do you…wanna come in?”

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You just wanna dug a hole and hide your face when the reality hit. You shouldn’t have invited him in because you were only humiliating yourself. You could see the way Charles blinked as he walked into your apartment.

“Did you get rob?”

“No….Lia came over last night and we were trying to bake to celebrate my first job but it didn’t go according to plan. I didn’t get to clean up the mess because I woke up with a headache and—“

“It’s okay. Give me that.” Charles stepped closer and and took the heating pad that you had in your arms, the thing that you were looking for before he rang the doorbell. “You should go and rest, I’ll fill up the heating pad and make ginger tea for you.”

“Can you make the tea with honey and—“

“Lemon, yeah I know, silly.”

He knew you couldn’t stand the smell of ginger tea alone.

The heating pad and tea did help to soothe some of the pain but you were still feeling awful. Charles had left you alone in the living room and you could hear the thud and clunk sound from the kitchen as he cleaned up the mess and cooked a simple and the only pasta recipe he knew that would be edible even if he cooked it horribly.

After all those ruckus, you were both now sitting on the couch with some random movie playing on the screen of the television.

“You really didn’t have to buy this much chocolates. I won’t be able to finish it.” You chuckled at the bag of snacks sitting on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I would end up with a bag full of it. The new flavours were the one that sold me out.”

“Do you wanna try some of it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

After spending like half an hour rating half of the chocolates, they ended up making you feel drowsy. Charles had noticed your head kept on falling forward as the sleep tried to win you over. He took the heating pad from your hand to change the water inside before pulling you to his side which caused you to jolted awake.

“Do you want to lay down?”

“Yeah. Can you hold me….?”

“Of course, doudou.”

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You fell asleep in his embrace, the embrace that completed the missing piece of comfort in your heart after the night. You had your ear against his chest and the sound of his heartbeat was a comfort to you. You could smell his cologne and feel the rhythm of his breathing as your head moved along with his chest as he breathed. You missed everything. You missed him.

“I haven’t washed my hair.” He tittered to your sudden remark which made your heart flutter.

“Is that what woke you up? It’s not the first time I have seen you on your period. I still think you look beautiful.” His palm went back to apply light pressure on your stomach.

“At any point in your life when we stopped talking, have you ever regretted what happened to us that night?” That was the actual thought that woke you up.

“Every second of it.”

“Charles?” You looked up.

“Yeah?”

“If our story was only meant to be up until this point in our lives, how would you take it?” You could feel your throat closing up as you imagined the end of us, the life where Charles was no longer in the frame with you. It was a hypothetical question. You just wanted to know what his answer would be.

Charles believed the question, or the possibility of you not being in his arms, either of it gave him goosebumps.

“Do you see yourself being happy after it ended?”

“That’s not the answer!”

“Answer the question first. If our story was to end here, where do you see yourself?”

“What if I can’t see myself ever being happy?

“Then I am still gonna chase after you. I have never prayed for anything so bad but I would beg for the universe that somehow, in any case that it could hear me, all I asked for is a chance to fix everything, to be with you again.”

“What if I see myself being happy after our story ended?”

“Then I would feel strange.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just strange to see evidence of you changing and continuing on without me being there to witness it. But you said you would be happy. I think being given a chance to grow up with you and learn about love together was enough to shape me for who I am today so it would be selfish for me to ask for more chances to be with you when you are already happy on your next chapter of you life. So, maybe if our story was to end here, I’m gonna continue with my life, it’s gonna hurt, of course, but I’ll always go back to reread our chapter all over again and remind myself that you are happy, and that’s all that matters.”

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“I don’t think this is the right shape, Lando. Look!”

“Yeah, that one has double sided holes. But it can’t be this one.”

Lando had asked for your help and when you asked him to elaborate more, he said you should know once he came over.

He came over with a 10,000 pieces set of Lego. He couldn’t ask you out on a date because he was scared you would pulled away if you knew he liked you.

But he was very desperate to get to know you better so he came up with Lego. He thought 500 pieces would be too short so he went for 10,000 one.

“Oh, look! We did it! We did the first section. How many sections left?” You placed the small stacked up section away to start with the next one.

“I think we have….40 sections left. Yeah, 40.”

“What?! Ugh, that one took us 30 minutes because you weren’t helping.”

“Oh, yeah? I wasn’t the one helping or it took 30 minutes because you just picked everything that looked like the shape without double-checking and I had to go over the steps again to fix it back?”

“I call dibs on the first one!” You laughed. Lando couldn’t help but to smile at you, the sound of your laugh made him wish he could stop the time.

“Would you drink coffee or beer for the rest of your life?”

You straighten your back and sit up to look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, just wanted to know your answer.”

“Coffee. I don’t like to drink. I only drink when I’m with someone I’m familiar with.”

“Why?”

“Why I don’t like to drink or why I only drink with someone I’m close with?”

“Both.”

“I was born with migraine. It was genetic. Beer would trigger my migraine. As in why I always drink when I’m with someone I’m close with, it’s because I’m a woman, Lando. Isn’t it not obvious?”

He cackled in response. “Oh, yeah. I just realised about it. It wasn’t that obvious, actually.”

“Lando!” You slapped on his arm. “And it was also because when I get drunk, I just become more….affectionate.”

“Interesting. Would you rather watch sports or play sports?”

You and Lando spent another hour making different sets of legos while answering some random questions like ‘comedy club or dance club’ or ‘skiing and skateboarding’ and Lando jotted down everything you said is his mental note.

Play sports, check.

Dance club, check.

Skateboarding, check.

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“There was this one time my dad sent me to a karate class and—“ You bursted out into another fit of laughter and rolled your body on the fluffy carpet.

“And what?” Lando has no idea what you were going to say but he had already joined you laughing. “Y/N, what?”

“And the next day I came to school, I punched my friend in the face because I tried to show her what I’ve learned.”

“No way! Are you kidding? What happened then?” He guffawed at what he just heard, unable to imagine you punching someone in the face.

“She cried, of course! And I got scolded by my teacher.”

“That was amazing!”

“No, it’s not! I have never felt so embarrassed.”

“That was some hands-on training, wasn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

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You and Lando shared more funny stories without caring about the time and for some reason, the night felt so short. It was already midnight when you started feeling sleepy, and so was Lando.

“I’ll get going so you can take your beauty sleep, yeah?” He ruffled on your hair before taking all his stuffs except for the Lego box.

“Thank you for today, Lando.”

“No, I should be the one thanking you. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

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He thought you had a lot in common with the moon; it’s light, its beauty, and its distance from him.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagines

[viaoverthemoon]

Sugar daddy Leon...(death island Leon) 👀👀 like he definitely has the potential. Like one day reader has a bad day and he notices it.... Then takes her out for shopping and dining to help her feel better than late at night....... He has a personal way to make her feel really good while praising her all the time... Yk👀👀👀👀

I hear you, my love!

Sorry for the long wait, been busy, 0 Wi-Fi, yada yada.

Omg, y'all, pls forgive any old-timey speech ;-; I've been reading a lot of medieval stuff lately.

Death Island!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: You had a bad day and Leon makes it up to you <3

Tw: SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), teasing with cum, intoxication, mention of alcohol, Leon got bank, hallucinations??, PLOT TWIST

This wasn't thoroughly proofread, sorry! Lemme know if I missed anything!!

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!!

Enjoy! <3

'Vivid~'

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The minute Leon walked through his door and heard the sound he recognized as your comfort show's theme song, he knew something was up.

He'd long ago given you the passcode to his private house, so it was never a surprise when you suddenly show up at his place.

He inhales a sharp breath, preparing for the worst, before approaching the couch.

He sits on the opposite side, away from your curled up figure.

He lets you be silent for a while, observing the extra water in your eyes and the frown on your lips. Eventually, he reaches a hand out and runs it along the blanket that covers your leg.

Not in a sexual matter, but in a way that comforts you.

Your body relaxes and the blanket that covered your face falls slightly as you peek at Leon.

He smiles sweetly at you, but you can't bring yourself to hold his gaze. So you look away, prepared to ignore him again but it looks like Leon has had enough of your silence.

He's suddenly in front of you, crouched on the floor and blocking your view of the tv. "I don't like being ignored, angel."

For some reason his voice nearly makes you break down in tears.

Your lips begin to tremble, and Leon realizes your about to have a breakdown a little too late.

Before he can even get any words out, the tears are flowing and quiet sobs and whimpers are leaving your lips.

Leon sighs and before you know it, your blanket wrapped body is placed on his lap.

Once your sniffles stop and all of your tears have been wiped away, Leon gently caresses your cheek. His blue eyes scan your face, so full of concern and sadness that you might just cry again.

"What makes you cry, sweet angel?"

You wipe your eyes one more time, avoiding eye contact with him. "Nothing... I've just had a bad day, Lee..."

He nudges your chin toward him with a finger, claiming your attention again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You gently place your hands on his chest. "Oh, Leon you don't have to-" He grabs your hands and places a kiss on your knuckles.

"You're right. I don't have to, but I want to." You feel your cheeks turn red at his words, albeit you should be used to them by now.

Leon always knew the words that would travel right into your heart.

He intertwines your hands. "Hey, how about we go to that store you like? Get a few things, then we can grab dinner at that one place?"

He's well aware that you won't be getting 'a few things', and that he'll buy you anything you set your eyes on for more than 2 seconds, but you both know that fact already, so you both say nothing about it.

Your eyes light up. "Oh! You mean the place that makes those delicious --?"

Leon is pleased to see that your mood has instantly brightened, quickly nodding his head.

Your arms find their way around his neck, hugging him as tight as possible. "Thank you, Leon! I really needed this..."

And he is more than happy to give you anything you need.

❁

it's just past 1am when you stumble through the front door of Leon's house, singing an offkey version of the song that played on the radio.

Leon follows behind you, trying not to trip over his own two feet. He curses the damn alcohol in his system for his poor equilibrium.

You both had a splendid evening, shopping at multiple stores before going to your favorite restaurant. And maybe stopping by a small bar and having a couple of drinks.

Luckily, you hadn't consumed enough alcohol to get you drunk, only a little bit more than tipsy.

Your heels make walking a little harder, but you can't be bothered to take them off.

The alcohol in your blood relaxes your bones, making you feel like slush. Your body sways to an invisible tune, your lips humming along to it as you begin to remove your dress.

Leon, who is obviously a better drinker than you, sobers almost instantly at the sight.

He hurriedly closes the front door to keep any nosy neighbors from seeing you. "(Y/N)! The neighbors could have seen you!"

You hear his words but can't understand them, the volume of the invisible song too hard to ignore. You keep humming along, moving toward the bedroom as you continue to remove the dress.

You're so lost in the music that you don't realize Leon following you until you turn around, your song suddenly stopping short.

You gasp, looking up to see his face.

And in that moment, you're immediately sober.

Now, you're lost in a different type of music.

You stare into his eyes, a deep tide of roaring symphonies. A song so heart-breakingly beautiful that somehow, he's the only living thing in your world.

Wow. Okay. Maybe you are drunk.

Leon's soft touch to your cheek pulls you from your sappy thoughts. "You still with me, angel?"

Not entirely.

"Yes..." The answer comes out as a breathless whisper, words trembling as a shiver runs down your spine.

A sharp inhale sounds from your lips when Leon moves his hands to your bare waist. It's only then that you realize you're naked.

And so is he.

Your hands explore his chest as his map out your hips and stomach.

The atmosphere turns hot, heavy with tension so thick you can hardly breathe.

Your touches turn rough, desperate as you both claw at each other's skin. You throw your head back, allowing Leon more room as he litters your neck in love bites and kisses, hands skimming over your lower back.

A soft moan emits into the air, your back arching into him. He wastes no time in picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

Your lips land on his, hands resting on his jaw as you kiss him with eternal love. His tongue bypasses your lips, exploring every inch of you it can reach. You both battle for dominance and, in the short time it took him to walk the both of you to the bed, it would seem he won.

You flop on his blankets, cheeks warm and chest heaving.

You look up at him as he stands at the foot of the bed in-between your knees, rubbing the top of your thighs and peering down at you in wonder. "So beautiful..."

Your cheeks feel hotter, and before you can say anything in return, he grabs your ankles and throws them over his shoulder all while kneeling on the floor.

You yelp in surprise and notice that you're still wearing the white pearl covered Jimmy Choos that you wore to dinner.

Leon stares down at your weeping cunt, using two fingers to gently run them down your slit.

Your legs twitch, a short exhale heaving past your lips. You bite your lip, wishing he would stop playing with you and just fuck you already.

But it looks like you don't have to wait long.

"Are you still a little sad about earlier, sweetheart?"

To be honest, you couldn't remember what you were sad about. But just to entertain the idea, you pout your lip and give Leon a sad nod.

He sighs, nuzzling his face along your inner thigh. "Poor princess... let me make it up to you."

And, finally, he shoves his face right into your lower lips.

Your body jolts, back arching in a perfect c.

A strangled moan escapes you, hands reaching out to grip the blankets. He expertly sucks on your ball of nerves, tongue lapping every drop of liquid your pussy produces like a dehydrated man.

He feasts upon you like he hasn't eaten in ages, hands wrapped around your thighs and holding you in place.

Your body naturally writhes and wiggles in his grip, and yet, he doesn't let go.

The sensitivity is much too high, your body barely keeping up with the pleasure you're receiving. Instead of shivers of intensity, you get shockwaves. Your legs shake, lips trembling and uttering broken praise and pleas. "Fuck-! Ah- Yes, Leon..."

Your voice can hardly be anything more than a whisper, but he still hears you. He groans, pressing further into you.

The sounds of his mouth on your soaked pussy are borderline pornographic. Slurping, wet squelching, and groans of pleasure filling every corner of the room.

You can't even muster up any comprehendible sentences, only babbling incoherent words as your hands flutter around, trying to find something to do that wouldn't hurt Leon or tear his blankets.

Your hands clench into fists, you hold them in front of your mouth to keep from making any noises as your release quickly approaches. But, it appears Leon has other plans.

He reaches one hand up and shoves yours away from your mouth, all while lifting his other hand and inserting two of his digits into your cunt.

You can't control yourself this time, one of your hands flying down to his hair and tugging hard, your eyes as wide as saucers and your mouth even wider.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, desperate moans and whimpers coming from you at loud volumes.

You hardly hear him over your own voice, but you catch bits and pieces of Leon's praise. "There you go, angel. That's right, cum on my tongue and forget every other thing that has ever hurt you. Be my good girl and-"

He doesn't need to say anything more.

With a loud and choked sob mixed with a scream, you curl in on his head and cum straight into his mouth.

Your grip isn't loosening, and it takes a full two minutes to come down from the high. You aren't even sure if Leon can breathe, but his thumbs stroke your thighs as a way to comfort you.

Your body slowly stops trembling and starts to relax. You release his hair and fall back on the bed, spent and breathing heavy, but nearly satisfied.

Leon stands, and you watch lustfully as his dick rises with him, slapping against his stomach.

And just like that, the fire in your belly that almost dwindled is lit once again.

"What is it, sweetheart? Like what you see?"

He smirks down at you, the lower half of his face dripping with your slick, leaning toward you and grabbing one of your hands.

Your heart nearly explodes and your breathing accelerates when he moves your hand to slide against his girth.

You don't take your eyes off of his, and vice-versa.

He hisses when the tip of your finger runs over the slit of his cock, gathering precum. You whimper softly at his reaction.

You pull away from him, scooting back on the bed and laying down. You eye him down with mischief and reach a hand down, spreading your cunt open for him and inserting the finger cover in his precum into yourself.

His eyes glaze over, blue oceans darkened with an insatiable lust.

You whine and call out his name.

Leon's eyes snap to your face, chest heaving with every breath.

Placing both hands on the bed, he crawls toward you. The way he approaches you sends shivers down your spine, slow and analytical, much like a predator stalking it's prey.

You spread your legs wider, and he settles right in-between them. He gets so close that your chests touch.

He hands scale along your sides, thumbs gently running over your nipples. "Jesus... You're gonna be the death of me. I swear it."

The tip of his cock nudges your clit and you gasp, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he guides himself into you. "Don't worry, sweet girl. I'll make you feel so good. Whenever you feel sad, you'll think about this moment. You'll think about me."

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you sigh when he bottoms out.

He groans in relief, reaching up and intertwining your hands, placing them next to your head. Your foreheads touch, hot breaths mingling.

He takes his time, setting a slow pace that has your mouth open and soft moans emitting from it. You clench around him, wanting more.

He seems to get the messages, moaning as his hips stutter for a moment, before slightly picking up the pace.

In a way it's still excruciatingly slow, but it's deeper than before.

Your body feels like it's on fire, writhing and shaking as Leon's hips meet yours. You relish in the delicious feeling of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

"Fuck-. I can't get enough of you..."

"God you feel so fucking good."

"Jesus baby, keep squeezing me like that and I'm not gonna last long..."

The room get hotter, causing a thin layer of sweat to coat yours and his skin. He leans down and places his lips on your, swallowing your noises. It isn't long before the knot in your stomach threatens to snap.

Leon feels it too, unclasping your hands to reach down and grab hold of your hips, his pace suddenly speeding up to something somewhat brutal.

You cry out into the kiss, your hands reaching up and scratching down his back.

He only groans, pulling away from the kiss and shaking his head to rid of the hazy feeling, before desperately pounding into you like a maniac.

Your orgasm rips through you without warning.

Your back arches and your nails painfully scratch down Leon's abdomen, which seems to be the final push he needs, because he follows you right off the edge.

He pushes deep inside of you, cumming so deep his seed probably directly entered your womb.

You see stars, feeling so blissful that, all of a sudden, this feels too good to be true...

The stars in your vision get brighter and brighter, Leon's face fading away, until...

❁

Your eyes open, instantly recognizing the theme song of your comfort show.

Sitting up, you look around at your surroundings before flopping right back down. Your mood instantly sours.

Of course, it was a fucking dream.

Leon has been gone on a job for 3 days, leaving you depressed and lonely.

You cuddle back into the blankets on his couch, eyes filling with tears. You missed him so much and to not even be able to tell if he's doing okay...

Suddenly, you hear beeping from the front door, and then the door opening.

It takes everything in you to not jump from the couch.

You feel him sit on the opposite end of the couch, waiting a few moments before placing a hand on your leg and caressing it over the blanket.

You don't acknowledge him. Instead, a mischievous smile appears on your face.

You suddenly know what you're gonna do today.

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Wow, I did not plan that ending.

Anyways! Sorry, my love :( I really didn't mean for this to take so long. So much stuff is going on in my life right now and BLAHHHH y'know?

But let me know what you think!!

Hope you enjoyed! ;)

Requests are open! <3

-V💕

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #re4 leon #re4 #smut #leon s kennedy #reader insert #x y/n #x reader #resident evil x reader #leon smut #sugardaddy!leon #death island leon #viaoverthemoon

[ador3sturniolo]

Stargirl

An - omg I feel like I haven’t posted in a year what. Okay so earlier this week I went to a hockey game, and something happened while I was there and I wanted to write a fic about it. And I wanted to do Nate because I love Nate, and we need more Nate fics out there asap. And the song has nothing to do with the fic, it was the song I kept playing while writing this 😭

Paring - Nathan Doe X FemReader

Summary - You go to one of Nate’s hockey games

Warnings - Kissing, NOT PROOFREAD

Requested - Nope

ALSO YALL, I FIRST WROTE THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF OCTOBER SO THERE WILL BE HALLOWEEN THEMED THINGS HERE, SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPLOAD

I hadn’t realize how late I had slept in until I heard my alarm go off more than 30 times, most of which I had just sleep through. I check the time and see it’s a little past 3. Shit. I had so much to do and had it all planned out. I was to clean my house, get a gift for Nate, go grocery shopping, and decorate for fall. I’ll just eat some food while I’m out but right now, I need to clean up my place. I have u til 6:30 to get everything done on my list. Considering Nate’s game starts at 7.

I clean my house, lighting candles and turning on fairy lights I have setup around my house. I take a quick shower and put on my freshly clean clothes. I do a slick back bun, not trying to do anything fancy. I get into my car and make a quick stop at Starbucks to get a drink. I also did an online order for my favorite lunch place in town so it’s ready for pickup when I get there. I pickup my lunch and eat in my car as I drive to target. I put my Starbucks in the cup holder of my cart and push it too the food section.

I grab my list of food and start putting it in my cart. I decided to grab some cookie dough for me and Nate to back after his game. I go over to the floral section and grab a bag of white, blue, and purple pair and place it in my cart. I’m on my way towards check out when I spot the cutest pair of matching pj sets. There was a vampire, pumpkin, and ghost option. They were all so cute but I decided to get the ghost ones. I check out and go home to eat dinner and decorate.

I decided to make something, quick, easy, and delicious. I play my fall playlist as I grab my last year bin full of pumpkins, signs, pillows and blankets. It only takes me around 30 minutes considering I cleaned earlier. I looked at the time, with not much time left I had to get ready. I put the totes back and head to my room. I put on a pair of leggings and his hockey jersey that he gave me. I take out my hair and do two French braids. I take some face paint type makeup I have and write his number on my cheek.

I put on my shoes and grab his flowers and teddy I bought him earlier that week. I grab a blanket so I don’t get cold at the rink. I drive to the rink in only 10 minutes. I head inside and get a ticket. I’m greeted inside by the triplets. They all look over at me and walk my way.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for like 5 hours” Nick says rolling his eyes

“Nick, we got here 5 minutes ago-“ Matt chimed in

“Oh hush.” Nick says, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed.

“I’m so excited to watch my boyfriend play!” Chris says clapping his hands. Nick, Matt and I slowly turn towards Chris, giving him a confused look.

“Fine, I can’t wait to watch her boyfriend play” Chris says sarcastically but rolling his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” I say pushing Chris a little bit jokingly. We all walk to the rink, getting a rush of cold air as the door opens. I could feel goosebumps approaching my skin. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and sit down with the triplets. We sat and waited for the game to start. It only took a couple scrolls on insta before the players came walking out of the locker room and onto the ice to warmups. It wasn’t hard for me to find him, considering I had his number imprinted into my brain. Before I the warmups ended, I went to the snack bar and got myself a water and chips for me and the triplets. I head back just in time for the game to start. We all stand up and start to cheer, like the rest of the crowd. I only had my eye on one player the whole time. Every time he scored a point and I would jump up and down and scream for him. The three looked at me like I was insane but I didn’t care.

The game was over and Nate’s team won! We all wait for Nate outside of the locker room to finish up, but before he comes out I need to use the restroom. I come back not too long and see the brothers talking to a man I wanted to hug the first I saw him on the ice. He noticed me and started walking towards me. I ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“You did great tonight, I’m so proud of you.” I say giving him a peck on the lips.

“And these are for you.” I handed him the flowers and teddy bear, he then looked up at me with a smile that would make my heart melt.

“Thank you so much baby.” He said as he went to the side of me and wrapped his arm around my waist. He turned back and waved to the brothers as he started to walk with me out of the building. I help him load his things into my car, and we get inside the car after.

“So I had a really fun night planned out for us, but if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay and we can do something else.”

“It’s whatever makes you happy my love” I couldn’t help but blush at his words.

“So, my house is all decorated and I had candles going so it smells really good in there, and the house is clean so a bonus! And I was thinking we could make cookies and watch a movie together? And there’s also a surprise with that.” I say almost out of my seat from how happy I was.

“If that’s what you wanna do.” He says smiling back at me.

“Of course it’s what I want to do, but I wanted to know if u wanted to do it.” I say turning on my car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m okay with anything you want to do.” He says looking out the window. I smile as I continue to drive back to my place. I pull into my driveway and get out of my car.

“Let’s take showers first tho.” I say unlocking my front door. He nods as I unlock the door and walk in. We take off our shoes at the front and walk to my room where my shower is.

“I’ll go first, I’ll be quick.” I say as I start to take out my hair. I hop in the shower and wash my face, get out, and wrap myself in a towel. I walk out into my room and too my closet, telling him it’s his turn on my way. He gets off the small couch I have in my room and head into the bathroom. I quickly get dressed into the pajamas I just bought for us. I sit down at my vanity and start doing my night skincare. I hear the shower turn off and with Nate walking out with the towel around his waist. He points at the pair of clothes on my bed.

“What’s this?”

“It’s yours, to wear! Tonight! To match with me!” I say turning around, show I’m in the matching set. He gives me a sigh but walks with it into the bathroom to get changed. I do a little clap of achievement, as I turn back around to finish my skincare. I hear the bathroom door open and see him walk out, giving me a sigh and looking down in disappointment.

“Hey! You look amazing! Don’t give me that I hate this energy, it’s supposed to be fun!” I say putting all my things away and getting up.

“I feel so weird in this.” He says throwing his hands like a baby

“Why? You look so cute!” I say walking towards him.

“Can I just take the shirt off? It feels tight.” He says scratching his neck

“Not yet! I wanna take a picture” I say grabbing my phone out. His arm wraps around my waist as I put the mode to 0.5x and turn on the flash. We smoosh our heads together doing a kissy face as I take the picture. I look at the picture to make sure it was okay then I put my phone down.

“Okay, let go make some cookies” I say kissing his cheek and walking out of my room. He follows close behind me. I grab a pack a Pillsbury cookies from the fridge and preheat the oven.

“How about you put on 6, and I put on 6” I say grabbing a tray from my cabinet.

“Good with me” He says giving me a smile

“Can I take my shirt off now?” He says whining

“Fine, Stop acting like a baby” I say as I start to put on my cookies.

We both finish putting on our cookies and put them in the oven. I walk over to my couch and turn on the tv.

“What would you like to watch?” I say looking up at him.

“I don’t know, you pick.” He says sitting down next to me

“Mhm, Corpse Bride? The Nightmare Before Christmas?” I say leaning back and laying my head on his chest

“Corpse Bride, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Christmas movie.”

“No it’s not!” I say as I scoff

“It is tho!”

I shake my head and get up to go take the cookies out. I put them on a plate and organize them in a cute way. I bring the plate to the couch along with a blanket.

“Hold the plate while I put the blanket on us.” I say handing him the plate. I sit down, covering our legs and a little bit of my waist. He sets the plate down on the blanket.

“Do you like tonight?” I say putting my head on him again.

“Of course” He says kissing my head. I smile in happiness that I was able to make tonight special.

“I love you” I say lifting my head up.

“I love you more” He says giving me a peck on my lips

—————————————————————

An - OML I AM SO SORRY ML FOR NOT POSTING FOR A MONTH. I KNOW THIS ONE IS BAD BUT I FELT LIKE I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING OR I CANT FUNCTION RIGHT SO HERE IS THIS 🫶🏼

#nathan doe #nate doe #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo

[earthstellar]

Earth Music on the Lost Light: Human Music That Cybertronians Like

we know for a fact that the Lost Light has access to human media, primarily movies, TV shows, and music-- and we know they generally seem to fucking love most of it, or at least find it interesting

but what would everyone's tastes be, in regards to Earth music?

time to talk about music for a long time!!! strap in, enjoy some tunes

we already know Cyclonus has impeccable taste and enjoys some of the best jams the 80s had to offer.

I can't help but imagine Rodimus being given a media archive of Earth tunes to approve for the Earth Dance would only result in chaos

(it's not like he would say no to anything, he absolutely blanket signed it all, it's just an obligatory thing-- or Ultra Magnus tells him it is, solely to keep him away from Important Captain Things that he would rather handle himself or hand off to Megatron, lmao. the shit that really needs to get done)

and this is how Rodimus discovers the somewhat questionable yet amazing genre of "mid-90s underground techno rave mix tapes"

(somewhat related, I still think Testarossa might as well be Rodimus' theme song, although it's not a 90s track and has more of an 80s synth vibe)

Rodimus would love that "computers are the future, fuck yeah let's make Digital Cool Future Music" mid-90s shit, there is no way he would not. it has the exact energy level that appeals to him and is also cheesy and weird and chaotic. and has like 500 different sub-genres, so his selection is endless, lmao.

he would probably find it cute that this is what humans imagined to be the peak of "digital sound" at the time. like lmao this was the best humans could do when asked to create music that sounds like it was made by robots or other mechanical space future cyber lifeforms--high concept!!! he would probably find it interesting and endearing. this is what organics think non-organic music is like!!

anyone acting as DJ at Swerve's on any given night would be so, so mad that Rodimus keeps requesting shit like "DJ MASSIMO ITALO DISCO BEST RAVE TUNES LIVE FROM LONDON 1995" or "DJ ARMPIT SLUDGE FEST HOUSE-RAVE-DRUMS N BASS SET 1996" for them to play, lmao

not individual tracks. the whole album. entire mix tapes of random, somewhat questionable mid-90s techno house rave bullshit.

that having been said, that good ass early 90s trance techno might send him into a spiral depending on his mood at the time, lmao (it's been known to happen)

but at the same time I can imagine him sharing tracks like Solar Quest - Space Pirates with Drift and they'd both just sit there and jam out, but quietly, thinking about shit while sitting in a port window next to each other (this was peak sleepover party techno, Back in My Day-- many deep conversations were had while listening to stuff like this, lol)

Drift would probably find some of Rodmus' recommended stuff to be pretty good for meditation-- although once he finds out about the human drug culture involved and certain concepts of experimental consciousness etc. that surrounded techno/rave and other related genres, it might cause him to pull back a little bit

(until he finds out about kandi culture, in which case, Drift would love the idea of hand-made unique bracelets and sentimental trinkets being made and exchanged at warehouse shows purely out of Good Vibes and Love for Fellow Beings and it turns out actually he fucking loves this shit, a chill vibes based "expand your mind" kind of music subculture appeals to his Spectralist sensibilities and he likes sharing tunes with Rodimus in return)

Drift picking tracks on his own would likely lead him down more of a classic rock road, but more of the chill side of things, more of the folksy type of classic rock -- I can see Drift really enjoying Spirit in the Sky - Norman Greenbaum or California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas. or like, Incense and Peppermints - Strawberry Alarm Clock.

I mean, Drift might even go Full Earth Hippie and end up liking Green Tambourine - Lemon Pipers, lmao. in fact I am fairly certain of this.

I can see Drift loving Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension. the whole vibe would probably appeal to him.

he'd quite possibly also like I Need a Dollar - Aloe Blacc, but it hits him in a place that still hurts to think about. so it's in rare rotation.

meanwhile Ratchet would probably be fine with classic rock too, like the good Dad Rock shit, just a lot of tracks from the 70s/80s -- a couple tracks he and Drift could probably agree on would likely lean more into the experimental/psychedelic rock side of things, like White Room - Cream or something like Wheel in the Sky - Journey

Rodimus tries to troll Ratchet by recommending Old Time Rock n Roll - Bob Seger, but joke's on him because it turns out Ratchet loves it, lmao

Swerve would go all out on classic bar jams for the evening playlist. Chill, good shit like Do It Again - Steely Dan.

Megatron would love Sinnerman - Nina Simone; He'd send it to Drift in a command crew level secured data packet, and they would both feel the hell out of this song. They don't need to talk about why. They never mention it to each other.

Megs would also probably love These Old Bones by Dolly Parton (mostly due to the lyrics, rather than the upbeat tune, but he would find it relatively relaxing), as well as 9 to 5 (of course), and similar music. Country from back in the day when country music was more about the struggle of poverty and the working life of rural people. Country music from back when songs told all the untold stories. He can respect that.

He'd listen to You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive by Patty Loveless and it would get him right in the fucking spark. Megatron is the Cybertronian equivalent of an Appalachian miner, god dammit. He understands.

Megatron would also like Johnny Cash; He would overthink Ghost Riders in the Sky and it would depress him, partly because it reminds him of Seekers... sigh.

I think he'd also like Cold War - Janelle Monae. He'd be way into good lyrics; What's being said in a song matters most to him. "This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for..." Indeed.

anyway I like thinking about what jams Cybertronians might like from their available selection of Earth tunes

#long post #transformers #maccadam #maccadams #idw drift #idw 1 #idw transformers #mtmte #lost light #idw ratchet #idw rodimus #idw swerve #idw megatron

[yandereheathen]

Loving Caretaker [18+ Yandere x GN Reader] Part #2

Welp, this won the poll it makes me SO happy people wanted more. Here is a bit longer with some darker-themed Korm is a cutie <3 i wanna get art of him now. Part 1

Warnings! DARK THEMES AND VIOLANCE -Yandere obsessive Behavior -Non-con - Drugging -Gaslighting - NSFW (unprotected sex is a no-no!) - reader gets stabbed non-lethally. - Word Count: 2.4K It wasn't meant to be this painful for you to know your place. Don't worry, he will care for you.

You sighed, putting your phone back into your pocket as you took a moment in the kitchen, putting Korm's favorite jam on the toast before you. You put the knife back into the red berry jam, sighing, and run your hands through your hair in frustration as the uneasy feeling of darkness you have felt hovering over you.

You just haven't been feeling right since you missed your trip. You couldn't believe you had been almost scammed by the person you had been talking to from the city for the last few weeks. They had stolen your card numbers and everything. You weren't even sure how it happened. They seem so genuine and excited to see you. You let out a bitter laugh, setting the toast on the wooden mini table. 

Tea and eggs are already in their place. You hosted it up, and the slight pain in your core returned with the effort. Pain ran from between your legs up your back, and you winced. Thats it. You would speak to his mother after today. It could be for a weekend or even a day to get checked out yourself. You were falling apart at the seams and even had weird dreams you couldn't recall, filled with creepy moans and wet noises. At least the new tea you enjoyed was helping you stay asleep. It was part of your new routine with Korm after everything happened, and you thought he liked having something to do, and it tasted lovely, like honey.

Throughout your ordeal, Korm had been very comforting, telling you that things like this happen often and that maybe online dating wasn't in the cards for you. 

But...

You paused while walking to his room, looking at your reflection in the hall mirror.

"That wasn't just all, was it." you thought to yourself.

You had been getting weird bruising on your neck and chest the last few days, coupled with your lower pain. It could be that you needed more iron to eat better, or your body just said you needed a break. You loved your job. You did; you got paid well, and Korm was such a sweetheart. It was like you got to take care of your best friend all day. Although. You started walking again, thinking to yourself. He did get clingy; sometimes, it was hard to take a day off when his health seemed like it would get worse on the days that you did, and his mother would franticly call you back to the house saying he wouldn't sit for the doctors or take care of himself without you there.

It was odd; sometimes, the thought of it can't always be by chance. He ALWAYS got worse with you gone, as the idea popped into your head. Your stomach turned slightly. You knew you were one of a long line of caregivers Krom had throughout his life; His mother had been open with that when you asked about the oddly high pay for your lack of experience. You didn't want to believe this bad feeling. Your life is perfect right now. You didn't want to sour it with negative things that were not true.

You slapped your cheeks lightly, opening Korm's door. You both had a lot to do today.

It was Bath Day today.

Korm hid his glee as you started the water in his giant tub. It has been made with a small seat for him and a lower siding to allow Y/N to wash him more easily.

You hummed a song to yourself as you added the salts and lovely-smelling oil to the water. You were bent over while the water was still low. Korm bit his lip as you did so, your thighs and backside on full display for him. He knows you did this to tease him. Your body was a tool for his care, after all. The happy memories of your lovemaking the night before played in his mind as his cock restarted at the towel across his lap.

He had your deep sleeping body propped up on your pillows, his face between your legs sucking and licking at your sex, his face messy with his saliva and your juices. He licked his lips as he stood up, positioning himself at your entrance, hands gripping your hips. Your wonderfully soft hips and back now have hidden love markings all along your spine. He glowed at his work. His wonderful caretaker's body was slowly covered in the proof of your love. 

He trusts himself in your warm hole, letting out a whine of need and bliss. It had been an adjustment. You had saved yourself for him; after all, he needed to train your body to take his cock properly, but he sure enjoyed carving his shape into you with every thrust. Your unconscious body reacted very nicely to him. You were letting out small huffs and pained moans with every rust inside you.

"Korm, are you ready? I will look away as you get in. The bubbles will cover everything."

Your call out to him as you waved your hand in front of him snapped him out of his happy memories. He lets out an almost inaudible groan that you take as a dislike of having to go in the bath.

"Don't worry, we will be fast. I have it nice and warm for you, and it smells wonderful."

You take him in your arms. He sneaks a smell in the cork of your neck, the earth warm...lustful. The scent was so much better than the sweet smell of the oils, but she nodded quietly, allowing you to place him in but unwilling to let you go. You laugh, rubbing your hand on his back softly.

"Come on now. I told you it is warm. I can add more water if you let me go."

Your rubbing was too much for him. Your hands feel so good on his back. The last few nights had satisfied him, but it was not enough now that he had a taste of your meal. Your soft reactions were not enough. He needed to look into your eye. Your awake eyes.

 He buries his face in your shoulder, giving a whimpering whine. Your joking demeanor shifts quicks as you look at him, worry on your face. So cute. he had you wrapped around his finger, didn't he?

He pulls on your sleeve, his dark eyes pleading at you. You feel your heart melt at his pained face.

"What do you need? You look like you're in pain."

He nods and pulls you closer. His grip is firm, much stronger than you were used to. You gasped out, feeling something hard and hot in your hand. It pulsed at your touch, and Korm gave a low moan, not letting go of you.

"It hurts here, Y/N. Can you please take care of it?"

You blink half in shock and horror at what is happening. This was Korm. Sweet, kind, loving, weak Korm who you thought of as a best friend or even like a child you took care of. You were painfully aware at this moment that he was very much an adult. Had he always been taller than you? Those sweaters sure did hide his more prominent than you had thought arms. He started to buck into your hand and whisper your name, his eyes glazed back in a half-lidded, lustful stare. You just stayed frozen until you could not half-process what was happening.

"God....fuck Y/n. Your hand feels so good around me. Your fingers are so soft. I couldn't help it. You were tempting me, please. Just let me use your pretty hands a bit longer."

He bites his lip, breath getting heavier; you feel his eye moving up and down your body, as he humps into your hand, the water splashing on you and the floor.

You come to your senses after a few moments, trying to move your hand away.

"N-no, Korm, this isn't right, I don't."

He growls painfully, yanking your head back with his other hand first full of your hair.

"I. Seid. Please."

Tears silently rolled down as he moved faster and didn't let go of your hair. His lip is way too close as he lets out a shutter, and you feel a new slimy stick to your hand in the water.

He only then lets go, placing an ever-so-light kiss on your lips.

"I feel much better now, Y/N. Thank you."

He sits back, smiling, no, grinning down at you, and you sit wet from the water, both of your hands pulled to your chest after you frantingly clean the main one on your pants.

You sit in your bed, head in your hands. You already texted his mother, telling her you needed to speak with her in the morning. You didn't know what had gotten into him, and he tried to apologize after realizing what he did wrong, but he was not right. This needed to be corrected. No amount of pay and swear words would stop you. You opened your door to get some things from the restroom and almost tripped over a glass cup. You frowned; you had told Korm you didn't want tea when you set him up for bed.

"I am sorry for this."

It was written on the little post next to the cup. You threw it away and ran along to get your things. Take the cup with you and take a long sip. You would need it to sleep well tonight. However, as you walked, your head started hurting.

"what the hell-"

Your vision blurred as you collaged to the floor, the glass shattering before you.

"Naughty, aren't you. Leaving me. You were made for me; you will stay. I will make sure."

Korm giggles as your pitiful form is in front of him. He leans over, licking along your collarbone and up your neck as his needy hands are on your backside, pushing and grinding into you. You yell with a shiver, wracking through your body, trying desperately to escape.

Korm, in his sick, warped mind, seemed to enjoy the reaction he got from you and nipped at your ear, whispering into it.

"Your reactions are so much better when you are awake, Y/N. So cute, so pure, even if I have fucked up your pretty insides with my love for you already."

He moves his mouth down, leaving more marks of his love on his lips. You would be littered with them soon. Your cries and being for him to stop, to go back to how things were. He twisted in his ears, and all he could hear was your sweet noise when his lips were on you. Enjoying what he had wanted, not what he had dreamt of for so long.

You tried to move, but your hands were chained up to a spike in a hall, and no matter how hard you pulled, you wouldn't get free.

"Strong, right? They use those to hold even strong, cute little pets."

He holds your face.

"My cute little darling."

"Why. Why are you doing this, Korm how. How are you even out of bed? W-what...WHAT DID YOU PUT IN THAT TEA?" You yelled in his face

He scrunches up his face, lighting your chin.

"Bad Pets get punished, don't they, Y/N?"

You felt a searing pain in your thigh. A knife. A knife you had used just that morning to spread his jam. You scream, but he hungrily cuts you off with a deep kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

"You are so beautiful..so delicious. I can just eat you up, Y/N. " He groaned, sliding down from your mouth into your belly, rubbing himself through his sweat pants, the knife still twisting in your leg. Sliding onto his knees, 

"Tell me you love me, Y/N, and will never leave me?" Another kiss, closer to your sex, made you want to crawl out of your skin. You try your best to remain silent.

"Because you know that I love you?" The red fluid leaking down your leg was licked off with a soft moan of glee.

"God, yes! It hurts, please, Korm, it hurts so bad. Please, please stop."

"And you love me too? TELL ME YOU LOVE ME TOO"

You scream in pain as he forces the knife deeper into your leg.

"Yes! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU KORM." 

You feel the pleasure build up as he thrusts into you without mercy, taking the knife out of your leg. His laugh and smile are filled with his love for you as he licks the blade's blood.

"So sweet. So i n t o x i c c a t i n g"

 He was in pure heaven, your cute face under him, seeing your wimpers and moan escape your mouth. He noticed the tears he pounded into your hand, groping your chest, trusting repeatedly. You felt the pressure and pain build.

"No, I'm gonna cum..I don't want to cum. Please, please stop!" You pathetically whimpered.

A wave of shame, guilt, pain, and pleasure followed your high. Tears poured from your eyes as you tried to desperately wiggle out of your binds, but he held you tighter, biting into your shoulder and drawing blood as he came to his own completion.

You let out soft cries of despair as he finishes inside of you. The feeling of his overflowing seed dripping out of you was too much for your mind. The betrayal, the pain, and you felt disgusted even thinking it, but the primal pleasure you felt broke you. You let your head limp to your chest, physically and emotionally done. You just whispered I love you, I love you repeatedly. He takes your face just like you would in his hands and massages it gently, pressing your lips together but now for a kiss.

"I love you so much, Y/N. Now you can take care of me forever! Are you happy? Tell me that you are happy."

He grabs you harder and harder, his nails digging into your tear-stained face.

"....yes...I am so happy..forever."

The darkness that had been closing in on you was here. He would never let his perfect caretaker go.

Ever.

#yandere smut #yandere thoughts #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere writing #tw: yandere #tw non con #tw: violence #yandere boy #horror smut

[raining-dreams]

Best Underrated Shows

Saving Me 

Saving Me is about a lonely old guy who invents a time machine so he can go back to his child self and fix all his past mistakes. I learned about this show from this video titled Watch THIS instead of Hailey's On It by M!n!mal M!ss Art. Despite this video, I was still very excited to watch Hailey's On It. It seemed like a story with a cool premise and cute art style (and ultimately I do really like the show) But Hailey's On It wasn't gonna be out for weeks when I came across this video and this video really sold me on giving Saving Me a try. I never would have even heard of this show without that youtube video which would have been a real shame because Saving Me is fantastic! I hope this show reaches more people and I'm dying for a season 3!!!!!

House of Anubis

Mystery is my favorite genre and House of Anubis is chuck full of it. I used to be obsessed with this show back in high school. I had so much fun coming up with theories and live-blogging my thoughts and opinions about each new episode. Some of the acting & dialogue could be a little cringe sometimes but the story is just so good that it doesn't matter. I've heard that Het Huis Anubis (the Dutch version of the show that House of Anubis is based on) is even better, though I haven't gotten around to watching it yet.

Over the Garden Wall

Those of us who have seen Over the Garden Wall seem to agree that this show is amazing! Which makes it feel a little weird to call it underrated. But it seems like so few people have actually seen it. Maybe because it was a mini series, it couldn't reach the same level of popularity as other shows of similar quality. If you like Gravity Falls, you'll likely enjoy Over the Garden Wall as well. (Wirt is even voiced by the same guy who voiced Dipper!) I would highly recommend anyone that hasn't seen it already.

Dead End: Paranormal Park

I feel like it's pretty rare for animated series to exist in the horror genre for some reason. It truly is an untapped market. But if you love horror and animation, Dead End is the show for you! (Of course it's kid friendly horror since the target audience is children) The two main characters, Barney and Norma get jobs at a haunted park and work together to fight ghosts and demons. Dead End has a super cute animation style, in my opinion, and a very diverse set of characters. I encourage everyone to watch it!

Just Add Magic

Just Add Magic is based on a children's book by the same name. It's a show about three girls who love to cook and basically discover that they can use cooking to do magic. It's a pretty interesting take on how magic works in their universe. It's very fun to watch. All of the actors are also so talented! And one of those actors is Zach Callison (the voice of Steven Universe)!

The friendship between the trio is awe-inspiring! They have so much chemistry. It's a pretty fun watch.

The Last Kids On Earth

Based on a comic of the same name, this show is about a group of kids who have to survive on their own when a zombie apocalypse breaks out. And other various creatures start to threaten them (or even become their allies) It's basically a cute found family story. The premise is pretty simplistic but that's what I love about it. The animation style of The Last Kids On Earth is so beautiful as well!

I'm still waiting for a season 3!!!!!

Code Lyoko

I remember as a kid being aware of this show and thinking it looked kind of interesting (and I always loved the theme song!!) but I never ended up watching it back then because I let peer pressure get the better of me. I remember I met someone who brought up how much they loved the show. When I heard them express that interest, I was at first excited to ask them more but before I had the chance, everyone else started making fun of him for liking Code Lyoko.

I guess it was like the nerd show or something? I don't really know why it was considered cringe to like Code Lyoko but upon seeing my peers act this way, I decided I can't like Code Lyoko if I want to fit in. So, I avoided watching it. But earlier this year, when I was flipping through channels, they were showing old episodes of Code Lyoko! I was intrigued since I remembered it from childhood and thought I'd actually give it a chance this time. And it's actually a pretty good show! It can be slow at times but overall I enjoy it.

If you're like me and avoided watching this back then due to peer pressure, I highly recommend leaving that in the past and just letting yourself enjoy this show!!

Slugterra

Slugterra is honestly pretty similar to Pokemon, except it's slugs! And the entire series takes place underground. Basically, there's a whole underground world called Slugterra, home to slugs, trolls, moles, etc. And all the slugs have cool powers so the people collect & befriend slugs so they can use them as weapons ("slugslinging"). If you like Pokemon, you're sure to like Slugterra!

Detentionaire

I discovered Detentionaire randomly while I was searching through Amazon's library of cartoons. I was looking for a new show to watch and just stumbled upon this one. It looked pretty interesting and I was surprised to see it was a show from 2011. I don't know how I missed this show back then. Idk if maybe it only aired in Canada or something? (cuz it's a Canadian show) But anyways, Detentionaire is such an intriguing show where the main character, Lee, discovers some grand conspiracy and has to try to expose it to prove his innocence so he can get out of detention. It's such an interesting concept. And, as I mentioned earlier, mystery is my favor genre, so I had a lot of fun with this one.

The only problem though is, of course, it ends on a cliffhanger. The show got canceled before they had the chance to conclude the story in a satisfying way (or any type of way) so watch at your own risk.

Catscratch

I honestly don't even remember what this show was about but I do remember enjoying this show and being excited when I saw a new episode was out. I remember thinking it was so funny. I just don't think enough people know about this show.

#saving me #house of anubis #hoa #just add magic #over the garden wall #otgw #dead end paranormal park #dead end netflix #depp #dead end park #the last kids on earth #last kids on earth #tlkoe #code lyoko #slugterra #detentionaire #catscratch #nickelodeon #amazon pride video #netflix #cartoon network #teen nick #byutv

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: You didn’t mean to catch Ransom’s attention, and you’ll do whatever it takes to lose it. 

Word Count: 8.1k

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark, Dubious Consent (Kissing, Blow Job, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Mild Degradation/Humiliation, Praise Kink), Coercion (Payment for Sex), Stalking, Fear/Paranoia, Yandere Vibes, BDSM (Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Suspension, Aftercare, Leather Cuffs), Pet Names (dear, birdie, pidge). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should continue it! Up next is A.W.A. Meeting (#2), then hopefully Lloyd. 

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

The song has been stuck in your head all day. Soft and sweet and romantic, it buzzes past your lips in a quiet hum while you end your work day by tidying your space.

“You know,” Harlan says as he leans back in his chair, contemplation narrowing his stare, “my offer still stands to make you my full-time personal assistant.”

You sigh and continue to clean up your papers, clipping them in neat packets for easy access when the research becomes relevant. “And you know I have other commitments.” You glance over your shoulder with a grin and shrug. “I can’t leave Chase hanging.” You snort at the unintended pun and continue working. Your hand brushes a spec of fuzz from the corner of your table, leaving it immaculate.

Harlan makes a noise of agreement and sits up before standing. “Well, if things ever change.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you agree. The final clip snaps onto your last packet. “Now,” you address your boss with a playfully stern finger pointed in his direction, “don’t mess this up.” You nod toward the space set aside as your desk. Pens, post-its, and papers neat in a row.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in the man’s eye, and you know you’ll be reorganizing on Monday morning, but you don’t mind. Not when Harlan’s done so much for you, and you know he’ll inevitably make your job easier somehow.

The dogs start barking outside. The front door slams and heavy steps thud toward the kitchen. No greeting, no real indication of who it might be. But you’ve worked in the Thrombey house long enough to make an educated guess.

“Looks like your grandson’s paying you a visit,” you muse while packing away the last of your belongings. “Don’t tear each other to pieces, alright? I still need this job at the end of the weekend.”

Harlan chuckles and shakes his head. He’s a good man, kind but indomitable. You admire him a moment longer. Fond warmth reflects back at you in his gaze. You’ll never forget how lucky you were he decided to take a chance on you.

“Goodnight,” you bid with a smile.

Harlan sends the same after you as you turn to the stairs, waiting for his grandson to make his surely dramatic entrance. The Go board already in hand. You wonder if he will take his grandfather up on the challenge.

Passing Marta and Fran on your way out the door, you say your farewells. And you almost make it out before coming face to face with the notorious ass—Hugh Ransom Drysdale. To think you’d been able to avoid him for so long. You should have taken the back exit through the patio.

“Who’re you?” he asks, inspecting you like a blot of dirt on his Beemer.

“Hello, Mr. Drysdale,“ you greet softly, short and professional. His head tilts and his gaze narrows at the address. “I’m expected elsewhere. If you’ll excuse me.” But you don’t wait for him to move, skirting around his broad frame before making it out the front door. His stare burning into your back the whole way. Constant, uncomfortable.

Safe and locked in your car, you’re able to shake it off. At least for a moment. When it starts to creep back up your spine while pulling out of the driveway, your hand reaches over to flick on your stereo, blasting the feeling away. You sing along, belting out any lingering unease. Getting yourself ready and letting the week’s stress seep from you.

The drive back into the city winds long, but passes quickly. Only forty minutes. But part of that convenience is negated by the absolute bear it is to find parking downtown. Another ten minutes of struggle before you get out—the urban parking gods not on your side tonight. Your car beeps with the lock and you sigh. It’ll be a longer walk.

The sun sinks behind the buildings and the orange glow of the streetlights paint the sidewalks. You bundle yourself in your jacket, shift your duffle higher on your shoulder, and start marching. One foot in front of the other. Glancing at familiar storefronts and navigating around the few passersby finding their Friday night adventure.

By the second block, you pause. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Eyes bore into you from behind. Heated, focused. You spin on your heel, but find no culprit. You swallow and breathe deep. Just your imagination, surely. Maybe.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath and turn to begin walking again. Quicker.

Your steps beat light on the pavement, though you don’t want to seem rushed. Trying to find a steady, rapid pace that doesn’t signal your distress. Still, the sensation doesn’t cease.

The evening gets darker and you see Chase’s studio in the distance. The industrial building looming and dark, intimidating. But your safe haven. The back door stands just within reach. You knock a rapid shave-and-a-haircut on the wood and wait for it to open. Phantom fingers dance along the back of your neck and you whip around. The alley stands empty save for a grimy dumpster and a few trash bags. Yet your heartbeat continues to thunder in your ears.

“There you are,” a gruff yet relieved voice exclaims. Long fingers wrap around your bicep and pull you in, the door closing behind you and cutting you off from your paranoia.

“Sorry,” you reply automatically, distracted before you shake away the adrenaline and turn to your friend. He beams brightly and lets his hand slip down to yours. With a turn on his heel, he guides you through the hallways to the back room. “Minor delay and had to find parking a few blocks away.”

“Don’t worry about it, li’l bird,” he shrugs and opens the door. “The room’s still filling out and Caleb is doing his sensation thing.”

You hum and enter behind your friend, setting your bag down in its usual place by the futon and shrugging off your coat. Your neck rolls on your shoulders, releasing any residual tension. Warm hands wrap over them and knead the muscles.

“You okay?” Chase asks, genuine concern in his voice. “You’re looking a little rattled.”

You lean into his gentle but firm touch, letting your eyes drift shut. Sinking into the feeling and focusing on it. Keeping yourself out of the instinctive loop of fright that lingers at the fringes of your mind. Chase’s hands travel down your back and over your sides—comforting, but objective in their precision.

“I’m fine,” you reply, breathy and calm. You pause, feeling his hands do the same. “Just,” you bite your lip, “maybe have the others keep a watch on the crowd tonight? I’ve had this strange feeling.”

Chase’s warm hands move back up to grasp your shoulders, reassuring in their press. “Of course.” He steps back and releases you. You spin to meet his eyes. “You know I always look out for my girl.” His lips lift in a soothing grin. “Now, let’s get you ready.”

You nod and begin to strip. Your blouse unbuttons and falls from your shoulders. Chase helps you step out of your skirt and grabs your outfit from your duffle. You change quickly from your everyday bra into the elaborate sports bra saved for these occasions. Chase helps straighten the straps, keeping them from turning on themselves and arranging them as they’re supposed to be. The bike shorts slide up your legs and sit at your waist. A quick peek in the mirror ensures you’re presentable—effortless yet alluring.

“You ready?” Chase asks softly.

You catch his eye in the mirror and nod with a small grin. “Ready.”

He offers his hand and you turn to accept it. Fingers squeeze around yours and draw you out. The crowd gathers around the elevated stage. The rig is all set up, the mats on the ground, the spotters standing on the fringes, everything waiting for you both.

Chase stops right by the steps up. He turns to you and takes your other hand in his. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately. A deep breath calms your spiking heart and the butterflies in your tummy. Displaying yourself in such a vulnerable position never stops being terrifying—or exhilarating.

“Then come along, birdie.”

The lights blare bright on the stage. Hot and revealing. You cannot look to the crowd waiting out past your line of sight. You’d freeze if you did. Instead you keep your focus on Chase—your constant, your rock, your Dom.

He brings you to the center of the stage and releases your hands. His chin dips in a bid for you to kneel. You sink the onto the floor, hands resting on your thighs, waiting. Your eyes locked still on him.

“Good evening.” He addresses the crowd with all the charisma you expect from him. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves.”

As he continues, you let your mind center on your body. Keeping yourself present, but counting your breaths and feeling the steady pulse of your heartbeat. Rope uncoils. Instructions and explanations fall to a rapt audience.

Chase walks over, turning his back to the crowd to face you. He smiles. “There’s my good girl,” he says just for you. Your lips stretch, preening at the compliment.

He cups your cheeks, tilting your face up. His lips descend to press a kiss to your forehead before he finds the bite of his rope and begins.

The rope slides over your exposed skin. Each caress precise, purposeful. Chase works quickly, but pauses every so often to address the audience again or check in with you. Your arms lift. You bend and submit to the way he moves your body. The rope cinches too tight. You wince. Immediately, Chase corrects it.

Around and around, you’re bound. Your thoughts quiet, steady and calm. The last knot ties everything together and Chase steps away.

Another speech before he positions you and the hooks pull taut. You breathe deep, preparing yourself. Your body rises from the stage, suspended. Like you’re flying. It takes a moment to adjust. Chase places his hand on your side, grounding you in the way you need. Your eyes fall shut. Blissful in the darkness behind your eyelids.

Chase stays nearby. He watches. The spotters watch. The people watch. You’re used to the appreciation. Admiring the way you hang from the ceiling, the way your body contorts to the shape of Chase’s vision.

Music begins to play through the studio. You hang like a piece of art. Whispers and conversations pick up until it’s the drone of a crowd filling the high ceilings. Talk about your dedication and grace. Discussion of Chase’s skill. Various mingling. But all the buzz of the background mellows in your head. Your blood flowing through your veins and the tension of the rope on your frame.

Chase brings you down earlier than usual. He lowers the rig and starts to untie you, except for the final ring that keeps you hooked. You stay there for a few minutes until he’s certain of your stability.

All the while, he begins your favorite part. His hands pet over your limbs. The blood already pooling under your skin, creating tender contusions. He whispers words of affirmation and praise. You savor the bliss of his aftercare and feel exhaustion’s tug.

The spotters dissemble the rest of the rig and release you from the final tether. Chase’s arm wraps about your shoulders and the two of you exit off the stage to wind your way back to your room.

It’s quick, habitual work for Chase to prepare the futon for your nap. And you sink onto the bed with a sigh. The mattress dips beside you. Your Dom strokes his hand over you head. As always, he insists you drink electrolyte water and eat a little snack, each presented to your lips by his own hand.

“You did so good for me, li’l bird,” he whispers, coaxing you toward rest. “Just close your eyes for me and I’ll let you sleep for a while.”

You hum in response, knowing he’ll stay beside you until you’re under. A thought drifts toward the surface before it escapes your grasp, floating away from you until it’s gone and you’re asleep.

By Monday morning, you’ve forgotten the encounter with Ransom Drysdale, too distracted by your weekend to remember an insignificant meeting. Pleasantly fuzzy feelings and bright spirits follow you in your drive to the Thrombey estate. But it all evaporates when you turn toward the house and see Ransom standing there, leaning against one of the porch columns. A grimace twists his lips and his arms fold across his chest.

“So, you’re grandad’s research assistant,” he says with a derisive edge to his tone.

“Morning, Mr. Drysdale,” you return on a whisper, waking past him and into the house. Ignoring the derogatory sting of his remark.

His brow furrows and he follows. You take off your coat and scarf, hanging each with care in the entryway. The whole time, Ransom’s stormy presence grows increasingly agitated behind you. When your feet turn toward the kitchen for a calming cup of tea, you take only one step before finding yourself flailing and dragged backward by a strong arm clutching at your waist.

The hard wall of Harlan’s office digs into your back. But you would take that discomfort if not for the fire flashing in Ransom’s eyes.

“Your grandfather is waiting for me,” you say without inflection, staring at him and waiting for his tantrum to cease—for him to get bored and release you. “Please let me go.”

His lips screw up in disdain before he responds with an decisive, “No.”

You keep your breath even, refusing to let him get under your skin. Hoping you haven’t unintentionally gotten under his.

“Tell me how you came to be Harlan’s assistant.”

You don’t reply. The hallway clock ticks. Your nerves spike as it continues, knowing Harlan expects promptness.

“You’re being quite rude, pigeon,” he says after a tense minute, stretching his arms to brace against the wall, keeping you cornered but elongating his body in a spectacle of power. He leans close, invading your space until his breath brushes your cheek. “Why don’t you coo for me? I would hate to have to contact my Uncle Walt at the publishing company and get your position filled by someone more…friendly.”

A swallow clicks in your throat. “Mr. Drysdale, your grandfather hired me himself, and I’m not directly associated with Blood Like Wine Publishing,” you explain in clipped syllables, clinging to your calm while he looms closer.

His brow quirks in intrigue and his lips press into another smirk. Words form on his tongue. But as the stairs creak at someone’s approach, they remain unspoken.

“There you are,” Harlan calls from the stair landing, peering into his office. “Come along, dear, time to get to work.”

His eyes flash to his grandson, a sharp look challenging his obstructive position. Ransom meets it and they lock gazes for a charged moment. You take your window of opportunity for what it is, surging forward under Ransom’s left arm. In the space between his frame and the wall paneling, you squeeze through. Though your body drags against his and your balance falters, you get past. Ransom grunts in displeasure and protests, but you march your way upstairs following your boss.

“Be careful of him,” Harlan warns in a whisper as you pass him along the stairs.

You nod and continue on. A final glance over your shoulder confirms your suspicions. Ransom remains planted in place, jaw ticking and arms crossed. His attention focuses on your retreating figure, brow furrowed in thought—a glint in his eye you instinctively fear.

In. Out. You focus on breathing. A steady cadence, a calming exercise. Your safety and escape with the ropes biting into your flesh.

This week pushed your limits. Every day affected by unease—following like a burning gaze. You’ve seen little of Harlan’s grandson. Yet every time you feel yourself tipping into that unsettled state, you find your thoughts turning toward him.

In. Out. Now is not the time to think about it. Not when you don’t have to. Not in this state. Suspended above the mats. On display. In. Out. Focus. It works, mind drifting on the softy syllables of Chase’s conversation with a curious patron. Grounding you, guiding you toward peace.  

Until it returns. That burning prickle at the back of your neck. The paranoia. It sets your teeth on edge. Despite your head being supported above your heart in tonight’s position, it becomes light, dizzy. Your eyes snap open, darting from face to face. Searching for his sinister features.

A flash—brown hair, sharp blue eyes, a regal sloping nose, a tan coat. It’s just a glimpse, but you meet their eye and see the beginnings of a smirk. Your vision swims. The studio blurs. Your heart pounds in your ears. You swallow, throat dry.

A croak escapes your lips. Chase’s concern meets your panic immediately. The spotters step forward, but his form eclipses your view of the rest of the studio—the crowd, the figure hidden amongst them—first. Your Dom reaches out to you and steadies the unconscious flail of your limbs. His fingers stroke across your skin. Slowly, it calms you. Your fear receding in the surety of his presence.

“Do you need to come down?” he asks, ready at a moment’s notice to lower you back to the ground—cut you out of the rope, if need be—and sweep you away to the safety of your room.

“No,” you say after a minute and a few deep breaths. “I thought…” Your words trail off in a mumble as you shake the silliness of your concerns away. It couldn’t have been Ransom. How would he know about this? It’s your mind playing tricks on you.

Chase examines you a moment longer before conceding with a wary nod. He steps back, letting the flood of the room rush back. Your eyes close again to force your way back down to comforting darkness. In. Out. In. Out.

Yet the evening becomes soured by that one moment. Chase’s distance expands like a chasm between you as he unwinds the rope from your body and steadies your walk back to your room. His methodical aftercare lacks in a way that sears a hole deep in your belly. Though you can’t name why. You wait for his tenderness to make it all feel better, but it doesn’t.

He settles you down on your futon and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. His eyes flicker with that same concern, but he says nothing more of it. Simply feeds you your snack and tilts your water past your lips. They slosh uneasy in your stomach, but you follow your routine, praying for some solace.

His muttered praises do little to coax you toward rest. Fidgeting and turning over and over, you body thrums even as you feel the weight of exhaustion. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to give in. Chase stays a moment longer before leaving you to the sticky blackness of sleep.

Though it’s not long until you’re disturbed. Like pulling you up through tar, you find the surface. Your reluctance to awaken keeps your eyes stubbornly shut, but the figure beside you strokes their hand over your head. You sigh and a small smile twitches at your lips. The touch soothes your soul.

“Chase,” you mumble on a sleepy murmur. He makes no response, but lets his fingers trail over your cheek. Your hand reaches out, grasping his and tucking it close to your chest. “Stay with me til I’m back asleep?” A yawn punctuates your request. He says nothing but stays beside you. His legs stretch alongside your body. And he makes no protest when you half-consciously scoot closer, letting you cling to him for the first time as you sink once again.

Harlan’s warning rings constant in your mind, “Be careful of him.” But there is no careful—there’s no more safety, no escape. Because you weren’t wrong. That figure in the crowd, watching you and sending you spiraling toward panic—that was Ransom. Following you again and again to the studio. Each week struggling to find a way to bring it up with Harlan, and failing. Each weekend spent suspended with Ransom’s eyes piercing through you.

You’ve tracked his approach, stalking closer and closer to the stage with each passing week. His eyes never leaving you. Not concerned with whatever Chase says. He has his focus. And it never wavers.

He doesn’t glare or glower—his observation far from menacing. Though foreboding still blares at the back of your mind each time your gaze meets. And you cannot stop yourself. Hanging from the rigging, you always find him. Your heart always lurches before you cut away the room by closing your eyes.

You drift awake, rested from your nap. Your phone proclaims the time and you groan at the early hour before sitting up on your futon and stretching. Muscles protest in the most delicious way and your lips tilt toward a grin. With a roll of your neck, you stand to gather your belongings into your duffle so you can return home.

The door to your small room clicks behind you. A step, two, and you catch a dark figure in you periphery. Your bones jump and you gasp. Turning toward the intruder, you clutch at your heart. Your diaphragm starts spasming, hiccups bobbing up your throat.

“Who,” you hiccup, “Who’s there?”

They step forward, their head bent and hands hanging by their sides. The glint of the ring on his pinky catches the light. You lick your lips and hiccup again. A hand presses to your abdomen hoping to calm the convulsions of the muscle.

“Oh, pigeon, did I scare you?” His mirth grates on your thin tolerance. He doesn’t do anything technically inappropriate during the demonstrations, but this confrontation is.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you say with a heavy breath, trying to swallow around the hiccups. “Why are you here?

Amusement continues to dance bright in his eyes. You’re just waiting for him to start laughing at you. Like there’s a cosmic joke to which you aren’t privy. But you’re willing to wait while he explains himself. All the while starting to feel sick from the incessant hiccups—and maybe something more.

“Let’s just say I have an itch I need you to scratch,” he replies with a teasing shrug.

“That doesn’t explain much, Mr. Drysdale.”

His jaw ticks and the amused light in his eyes dims a fraction. He shifts on his feet and stands straighter. The glint of a gold watch shines in the light. You swallow at the reminder of his status and your precarious position in the hallway with him—the ways this could spiral unpleasantly numerous and beginning to swarm in your head. A thought of Chase materializes in your mind. His bedroom nearby but too far all at the same time.

“Call me Ransom,” he suggests, though even the way his head ticks to the side reads more as a command than counsel.

“Right,” you mumble with a hint of disregard—too focused on yourself, your position. Your eyes dart around the cramped hallway, looking for an escape. “What do you want?”

He hums, deep and threatening in his throat. “You.” The statement simple. Yet it rocks your world—sends you reeling and off-kilter. But he continues, “You see, I can admit you intrigued me on our first meeting. Especially after Harlan refused to tell me much about you other than your job title.” He sighs and takes a step closer. In retreat, you press yourself to the wood of the door. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since. And I need to fix that.” His arm cages you in, resting beside your head as he leans forward, crowding into you. “So,” he says, drawing out the word. His chin dips and his voice lowers to a whisper. “Name you price.”

Your chest jumps in another hiccup, voice jumping with it when you yelp, “What are you talking about?”

A smirk twitches on his lips. “I’m a very wealthy man. I need one night to get you out of my system.” His breath brushes your cheek. “Name. Your. Price.”

You sputter, mind whirring. You’re not naïve. You know for what he’s asking. You used to consider it, when the rent wasn’t adding up—before Chase, before Harlan. But not with someone like him. Your tongue swipes over your lips. His gaze continues to wander over you, examining you like a slab of meat.

“Five hundred thousand dollars?” The number, plucked from the air, grits past your clenched teeth in hopes it will deter him.

He grins and gives you a sliver more space to breathe. “Done.”

You gape in shock. Such an easy agreement. “Wait—”

“Do you want more?” His fingers tickle along your throat while his brow quirks in curiosity.

Your head shakes, vehemently against it. “No. I don’t—”

“Then, what’s the problem, pidge?” His voice husks, a moment away from descending upon you. The glimmer in his eyes hungry.

“I don’t want you,” you reply. The force of your statement knocks him back. His head tilts and his jaw ticks in irritation. His gaze narrows. “I wouldn’t want you for a million.” You push at him, but he doesn’t budge. Too strong, too firm.

His nostrils flare with his ire. A deep breath expands his lungs, pressing his chest to yours. He closes his eyes and calms himself. When he captures you again with his sapphire blue eyes, they’re softer. The sharpness dulled for his plea.

“Look, pidge,” Ransom croons. Sweet as pie but far too deadly. “It’s one night. That’s all.” He backs away, though he keeps his touch close by, ready to swoop back in and strangle you. “You’ll get one million dollars, alright? I never bother you again—never show up to this dump, never meet you at granddad’s. You’re done with me and I’m finally done with you. Got better things to do anyway.”

He lets you think. The moment stretches taut between you. Your hiccups the only disturbance.

“I’ll never have to see you again?” you ask, wary of his answer.

He grins, triumphant. As if he’s already won—which he has. A million dollars can do a lot for you. Clear most of your debt. Make your paycheck stretch further for a little while. Maybe give you a little cushion for a rainy day.

“When?”

“Oh, I knew you’d say yes.” He smirks and trails his fingertips over your cheeks. You turn your head away but he follows, ducking to catch your eye. “You made the right choice. I’m gonna give you the night of your life.”

Air expands your lungs and escapes in a steady hiss. Another hiccup interrupts the stream and you close your eyes in frustration. Lips press to your cheek. You jerk away, startled.

“I’ll text you the details, pidge.”

He leaves, his business concluded by sneaking a pat to your ass. The hallway expands around you once more and fills with your precarious relief.

The door looms too tall before you. You eye the keycard slot. Check the time on your phone. Another minute passed. You wonder if he knows you’re here. Your hand rests on your abdomen for a moment, calming your nerves. Your other reaches out and swipes the card. The light blinks green. You breathe deep, open the door, and stop right in your tracks.

There in the center of this great, grand hotel room sits Ransom cushioned by a big black leather chair. You swallow hard and glance over your shoulder. Your heartbeat flutters anxiously in your throat. You take a step back. Fingers cling tight to the doorknob. You clear your throat.

“Well,” he hums with a twisted grin, “there you are. I guess it’s true—amazing what some people will do for a chunk of change.” He eyes your position, still straddling the threshold and clutching at the doorknob. “You gonna try to run?” His brow quirks and he stands, relaxed and unconcerned. His hands shove deep in his pockets, but his sweater sleeves sit folded up near his elbows. “I thought you were braver than that, pidge.”

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you step forward and let the door close behind you—accepting his challenge. It brings a smug grin to Ransom’s face, but you ignore it by setting aside your bag and toeing off your shoes.

“How are we going to do this?” you ask without looking at him. “Do you have some kind of contract? Or will oral negotiations suffice?” You grab a small notebook from your purse and the attached pen, releasing it from its holder and clicking the cam down.

The scoff and eye roll you receive in reply sets your teeth on edge. Ransom shakes his head and says, “we’re not going to do that, no matter how fun oral negotiations sound.”

You blink. “But—” you begin in your shock before closing your lips and clearing your throat to gather your thoughts. “I realize this is for one night only, but it’s important—”

“You’re right,” he interrupts with a wave of his hand, turning his back on you and meandering around the back of the chair. “This is only for one night. We don’t need all that boring shit. I want to fuck you, not exchange friendship bracelets.” As he comes around to settle on the cushion, he tucks something beside him you can’t catch. “Now.” He leans forward. You stare, entranced by the confidence of his movements. The way his fingers clench on the arms of the chair and his chin tilts. “Get on your knees.”

They threaten to buckle at the command, but you stand firm. Still uncomfortable with this little exchange, you’re not yet ready to start. Not like this. Your tongue lashes out to lick your lips, eyes darting about for something to prolong the conversation. Another question to ask, another point to make.

“Will you listen if I safeword at least?” you ask as your toes tap on the floor in a nervous rhythm. The notebook in your hand crinkles with your grip until you place it and the pen back in your bag.

“You have my word,” Ransom promises, hand pressed—sincere or mocking—to his chest. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not exactly.”

He chuckles and shrugs. Whether his word means anything, you don’t know. All you know is that he’s not getting any more patient. He nods toward his feet, the open place between his knees.

You take a moment to gather yourself and find that safe space in your head, taking slow steps to approach him. Watching him—wary of any sudden shift. The fluffy carpet meets your knees when you sink down. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on steadying your breath.

Ransom waits—for what, you couldn’t guess. Until he rasps, “Open your eyes. Look at me like you look at him.”

Your eyes snap open and meet his. “Like him?”

But he simply holds up a pair of padded cuffs, dangling from his index finger. “You want me to stop, you say ‘Hugh’. Understand?”

Your head bobs in a nod, keeping eye contact. “Yes, Mr. Drysdale.”

In a flash, he grips your chin with his free hand. His fingers dig into your cheeks, anger flaring in his gaze. “You. Call me. Ransom.”

You swallow hard at the abrasive grit in his tone. “Yes, Ransom,” you respond with a stilted nod.

“Good,” he hums in satisfaction, “I prefer good girls.”

The tension drips away as he releases your face. Fingers scratch at his jaw and he stretches, relaxing back into the cushion of the chair. The cuff chain clinks, drawing your attention. His follows, lips twitching toward a smirk.

“Now, can we begin?” he asks with a raise of his brow.

“Yes, Ransom,” you reply, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. Unsure of what reaction might await at such a disregard for his request, but unwilling to risk a punishment—not from him.

“Give me your hands.”

You offer them up, blood vibrating in your veins. He holds them gently despite his prickish nature. The cuffs wrap around your wrists, latching snug to your skin. Perfect—not too tight or too loose. You stare at them. The detailed leather work. The minky lining. The safety buckle ready to release at a moment’s notice. They’re quality, expensive—an indication of forethought, research, commitment.

A weight lifts from your shoulders. The nerves buzzing inside you start to disperse. With a final pat to the leather, his hands stray to explore your body. He traces the curve of your lips. He feels your pulse throbbing at your throat. He cups your breasts and kneads the flesh until your breath hitches.

“Just like that,” he purrs while toying with you. “You’re gonna sing for me, aren’t you?” He plucks at your nipples through your shirt, staring you down to drink in your reaction.

You swallow a whimper—needy and plaintive. Thoughts flurry in your head tinged by heat. Submission tempts, at odds with an insistence on remaining in control. He catches the hesitance when your teeth worry your lower lip. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, and your heart lurches.

He lets the silence settle around you both, reclining back and taking his touch with him. A minute ticks by. His attentions drift over you, searching. Only he knows for what. Your lungs draw in a steady flow of air, each calmer than the last. Your hands itch in impatience, craving contact. Your fingers flex toward him. The chain rattles.

Ransom reads something in that sound and tilts his head, lowering his lips to yours. You blink, unsure of your boundaries with such intimacy, but he swallows any protest with a kiss.

You expect it to be harsh and demanding. Clacking teeth and a suffocating intrusion. That’s not what you get. The way he kisses you like a lover locked in a forbidden embrace between the stacks of an old library—sensual, passionate, and all-consuming. Letting you taste a hint of his hunger, his desperation.

Your bound hands raise to cup his jaw. Drawn to him like a magnet. Because this is the best you’ve ever been kissed. Sure, you’ve been kissed by amateurs, by creeps, by lovers, but nothing like this. It’s addictive.

Without meaning to, you sigh your delight against his lips. His twitch toward a smirk, even as he licks into your mouth and drinks you in. His hands cradle your throat and tilt your head back. The dance between you a delicious exercise of control.

With one last brush of his lips to yours, he draws away. Your head floats, hazy with the sparks of lust ignited by his kiss. Unconsciously, you follow his retreat, leaning up to him like a flower seeking the sun.

He stands, a slow movement that breaks your hold until your falling hands rest upon his thighs. He stares down at you, a conceited pleasure glinting in his appraisal. But you’re past the point of caring or becoming peeved by his superior attitude. You just want him to kiss you like that again. It’s only for one night anyway, what does it matter if he’s proud of himself for making you his plaything—or that you think you’ll enjoy every minute of it.

“Up,” he beckons with an outstretched hand.

You place your hands in his and rise. He squeezes and saunters toward the bed. A noise of approval rolling in his throat, observing your body.

“We’ll need to fix this,” he says with a gesture. You glance down—the plain tee, the jean shorts, your socks. He steps forward, pressing his lips to your ear. “You wear something special for me, pidge?”

You swallow, but can’t answer. Voice stuck in your throat.

“That’s okay,” he coos, playing with the collar of your shirt. “I’ll see soon enough.”

Fabric falls from your body. It pools on the floor at your feet. Your gaze falls with each article of clothing. Exposed to his scrutiny, you stand in your best lingerie set. Thinking he should get what he paid for, you’d donned it but now find a seed of apprehension blooming in your belly. Another thing he’ll nitpick or tease.

“Look at that,” he rasps, hand smoothing across your waist and gripping you close. Your feet stumble over each other and you brace yourself against his chest. “So pretty and just for me.” His fingers pluck at a bow on the front of your bra.

A shock of arousal hits you at his praise, leaving your knees weak. Gripping at his shoulders, you try to support yourself, and his eyes shine with amusement.

“You like when I talk sweet to you, pidge?”

He spins on his heels and takes you with him. With another stumble and a toss, your back bounces on the mattress. You gaze up at him, eyes wide as he chuckles and undoes his belt. With a snick of his zipper, he releases himself and strokes his cock. And, god you hate to admit it, it’s a thing of beauty. You meet his eye and feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

He quirks his eyebrow and dips his chin. You push yourself clumsily to kneel before him on the soft mattress. His fingers trace your lips until your tongue licks over them. He smirks and leads you down with a firm hand.

The first tentative taste of his flesh sends a shiver up his spine and a breath puffing from his lips. You kiss his tip, eyes locked with his. His cock twitches. He growls and urges you forward until he enters your mouth and rests on your tongue. You purr around him and begin in earnest.

A few bobs of your head work him back as far as you can manage. Eyes close as you focus on your task. Head drifting on greedy waves of sensation and muscle memory, you swallow him further and further. Listening, yearning to hear how you affect him. Drool pools on your tongue, stimulating every part of him it can reach. Part of you wishes you might have your hands free, if only to feel him. Urge him further toward release.

His hips buck against your face and you gag. But he keeps you steady, a guiding hand pressed to the back of your head, gripping and massaging your scalp.

“So cute,” he muses with a brush of his fingers over your forehead. “Look up at me, li’l birdie.” Your eyes flutter open, waterline wet with the start of tears. Ransom smiles down at you and winks. You hum around him. His head falls back on his neck with a groan, abdominals flexing as he pulls you off and up. A weak noise of protest escapes your lips, plump with blood from the stretch of his cock. He pants, tongue darting out to lick over your swollen flesh. “Not bad,” he comments with a tilt of his head. “But I think I’m ready for a bit more, aren’t you?”

With a hand smoothing across your throat, his other lowers to find the apex of your thighs. A twist and pinch, a rip and your panties fall away. His fingers free to explore the most intimate part of you. You whine at the squelch of your arousal. The slickness shamefully copious as he plays with your pussy and grins. He hums in delight, but doesn’t say anything. That sound enough of a gloat to humiliate you.

“I can’t help it,” you protest, brow tilting pathetically.

“Oh,” he croons, smearing his lips across your cheek, “I know.” The gentle mocking of his words pierce through you. You huff in pitiful indignation.

His fingers pinch at your lower lips and your hips jolt. He barks a laugh, but his touch turns nicer. Stroking over your folds and swirling around your clit. Your breath hitches. The sensation curling in your belly, building your pleasure. Teeth nip at your pulse point, startling you. Ransom chuckles against your skin and begins to suck.

You’re weak with him. The prick of his teeth and the soothing swipe of his tongue mingling with the skill of his fingers. Filling your head until you can hardly think. Moans and gasps build in your chest, too persistent to ignore. Just as you reach the precipice of your climax, though, Ransom stops.

He grips your chin with sticky fingers, pecks a kiss to your gaping lips, and smirks. “Not yet.”

Once again your back finds the mattress. You stretch out, bones jelly and blood thrumming. You crave release now. More than you can say, leaving you only able to reach out as he strips off his sweater and jeans.

A chiseled Adonis he is not. Muscles flex beneath skin supple with just the slightest layer of cushion borne from a life of luxury and indulgence. So when he descends and pins you to the bed, you feel it against you—his strength and softness.

He slots himself between your thighs, pulling them up to his hips. His cock finds its place, slicking itself against your sex. You sigh and loop your bound hands around his neck.

You bite back a “please,” but he sees it shining in your eyes and denies you. Content to roll his hips. Each thrust knocking the head of his cock against your clit until you whine and wriggle beneath him.

“Don’t be like that, pidge,” he says with a mocking pout, swiping a thumb over you cheek where unbidden tears fall from your eyes. “I’ll let you have what you want.”

With the slightest shift, he prods at your entrance. Bare. You breath hitches. Hands grip at his hair.

“Protection!” you protest at the last minute, surfacing from the lusty daze with fear in your eyes.

Ransom takes it in stride, continuing his persistence. “What for?” he asks with another roll of his hips. A delicious, sparkling sensation skitters up your spine. “I’m clean, you’re clean, you’re on birth control. Right?” The drawl of his voice accompanies his descent toward your neck. Another nip and suck of your skin as you reluctantly nod. He reaches a hand down between your bodies, gripping his dick. “Then there’s no problem here, pidge.”

You whimper, “I—”

He thrusts into you. The stretch divine. His gorgeous cock filling you inch by inch until you ache. A moan rips from the depths of you, a wounded sound of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, sweat dotting your brow. How can a douche like Ransom Drysdale feel so right when he’s inside you?

He pauses, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving. “Fuck,” he hisses beneath his breath. Your own hips roll in an attempt to adjust, but his hand lashes out to stop you. His grip tight. “Squeezing me like a vice, pidge.” The husk of his voice, the strain, the need dripping from each word, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ransom,” you plead with a gentler tug at the roots of his hair, “please move.”

His eyes open, the blue tinged dark with desire. His lips part around a shuddering breath. Finding his composure, he tilts his hips, filling you just that little bit more until you gasp. “I’m gonna fill you up just right. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

There’s not a moment more to prepare yourself before he begins fucking you. The drag of his cock against your walls enough to make an endless stream of sounds dribble from your lips. You grip him for dear life. The clap of your bodies filling the room with your moans and heavy breaths.

Ransom takes and takes, filling you and grinding against you until your vision blurs. You cum on his cock, screaming your release. Your knees squeeze his sides. You cling to him. Yet no matter how he ruins you, he keeps going. To sate his own pleasure, to see you crumble just a little more, to chase some ineffable desire.

It takes him longer. The stutter of his hips, the warmth of his cum flooding you. You mewl, hips shifting at the sensation.

“Hold still,” he commands, gripping your face with one hand.

His other travels down your body. Pausing to play with the sensitive beads of your nipples. You squeak. But his true destination lay between your thighs where he keeps himself nestled. Your clit throbs with your pulse, overstimulated and tender. You tense, bracing for whatever his plans.

He plucks at the aching bundle of nerves despite your every twitter of protest. Smirk plastered on his face. His intentions clear as he rips another orgasm from you and another. Letting you milk his swelling cock with your sex.

Your tongue swipes across your dry lips. Knowing by the wiggle of his hips he prepares himself for another round—one that will surely be a delicious torment. Your head shakes, arms tightening around him. Hoping your silent pleas will be understood. Already overwhelmed by the night’s exertion.

But he starts again, pleasure gleaming in his eyes every time he knocks your aching clit with his pelvis. You reel with the sensations scourging your body. The way the pain washes over you with the sweetest hint of pleasure. That hint just enough to keep your mind searching for more. Clinging closer and rolling your hips in tandem with his.

Your head lolls on your shoulders, sure to keep your eyes locked with his. Knowing he might stop if you let them wander just a moment—both needing and dreading that brief reprieve.

“There we go, that’s what I’m looking for,” he purrs staring deep into your glassy eyes.

Sweat dampens his chest, pressed against you as he cages you in with his weight. His fingers lift, two of them prodding your lips and delving into your mouth. Your tongue tangles with them, teeth nipping his knuckles. You swallow around them and they withdraw, trailing a cool line of saliva down your throat. His wet fingers trail beneath the cups of your bra, pinching at the tender buds. A raw moan rises out of you at a particularly wicked thrust of his cock. And another. You shudder, an unstoppable wave of pleasure ripping through you and leaving you in a fit of pained euphoria.

But Ransom says nothing more. A look shining in his eyes, thoughtful and indecipherable. If you could contemplate the dawning of such a look, you might. Though, with the rush of your own orgasm flooding your head, the stutter of his hips and the spill of his cum, you’re lost. He falls off you with a grunt, sprawling across the open area of the bed.

“Shit,” he mutters to the room. Sweat glistens along his skin and musses his hair. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. A hand wipes over his face. You might have taken offense to the utter disbelief radiating from him, if so inclined.

Instead, you rise, prising through the quick release of the cuffs. Emptiness and pain halts your movement. An ache between your thighs that plucks its sweet agony. No choice but to push through it.

As Ransom recovers, you gather your things. Aftercare far from your thoughts. Willing to face any possible repercussions yourself and in your own space. You dress hastily, intuition begging for retreat. Knowing that another moment with him might cement something inside you. Something you know will only end in pain and disappointment.

Each step, each movement he follows with his eyes. They burn into you. Whether in anger or some other resentment, you don’t know—don’t need to know. Slipping your shoes on at the door and gathering your bag, he says nothing to stop you. You pause with your hand on the doorknob and glance over your shoulder. He continues to rest on the bed, body gloriously lax, and stares. Quiet and contemplative. You leave him there.

All thought of the money forgotten. No. All you want now is to escape that seductive lure he offers. You pray he’ll keep his word. That you’ll receive what he feels he owes. You’ll manage with what you’ve got until he does and start forgetting this night ever happened. Move on, work with Harlan, perform with Chase—lead your normal life.

You rush from the hotel, cool morning air slapping you in the face. You stop and tilt your head back. Your regret washes over you. Your lips press together, holding it back. Keeping it at bay.

The trek home stretches before you. Tenuous hope growing that you’ll never see Ransom Drysdale again, even as you feel the fierce burn of a gaze at your back.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfic #dark #dark fic #dub con #tw dub con #yandere vibes #attic wives anonymous #18+ #minors dni

[twopoppies]

If someone told me that we will get Harry singing You're Still The One, I Will Survive, Man I Feel Like A Woman, and Hopelessly Devoted To You ALL IN THE SAME YEAR I would not belive them yet here we are. Like-

Never would I have thought SEVEN YEARS since we last saw them together, that 2022 would be one of the larriest years on record.

Hopelessly devoted to Lou

Harry dresses as Danny Zuko for Harryween, just a few days after Louis reminds us, once again, that he played Danny Zuko in a high school production.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with not one, but three Louis cross-eyed smiley faces.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with a huge Louis cross-eyed smiley face

The peace ring returns and Harry is smug about it.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with Only The Brave on it (after doing a double take and noticing it)

Harry sings Still The One at Coachella (more details on why this is a big deal here)

Harry sang I Will Survive at Coachella (369 weeks after he last sang it on stage)

Harry randomly uses an origami fortune teller as a symbol for his song Love Of My Life. It shows the colors red and black (strongly associated with Louis these days) and blue and green (Larry colors). Louis’ album, Faith in The Future, is set to release November 11th. National origami day.

Harry quotes a song from Leonard Cohen’s album, Anthem, which has the larriest cover art ever.

Louis’ music plays at Harry’s venues before the show

The fish on the Pleasing merch at Coachella have blue eyes/thin upper lip or green eyes/full lips

Harry referenced the poet Richard Lax in his You Are Home promo. Lax has collections of poems with titles like "Love Had a Compass", "The Green Island," "The Blue Boat”, and "Circus of the Sun."

Harry doodles H L on his sneakers while on “vacation” with his beard.

You Are Home coordinates match up to a lot of Louis and Larry locations

Harry seen at Louis’ LA show (more here and here)

Harry has a blue and green moment

The You Are Home website tweets a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote about people destined to meet, 12 years to the day after Harry and Louis’ xfactor auditions.

And just in case you think Harry is the only one obsessed with Larry (like rads do):

Louis mentions Harry being at his show

Louis acknowledges a rainbow flag with a huge picture of the Larry hug on it.

Louis wears a “blue bird” colored shirt

Louis adds I Will Survive to his post show playlist the day before H performs that song at Coachella.

Louis plays Lego House as his exit song twice. The first time the day Harry’s House was announced and Harry’s first Coachella performance (where H also performed Still The One). Then Lego House again on the day Harry’s House was released and Harry performed his ONO in NY.

Louis’ merch colors match Harry’s merch colors

Louis wears Harry’s House colors the day of Harry’s House release

Louis changes his Twitter header to a photo with the Larry hug in the background.

Louis makes a point of going out for sushi right after Harry’s House drops, despite rolling his eyes in the past about the trendiness of sushi.

Despite his theme being red/black/white, Louis changes the arena lights to blue and green and he does it again and again and again and again

Louis acknowledges a larrie in a rainbow TPWK t shirt

Louis acknowledges a fan holding a poster of Harry with a rainbow flag (more confirmation here and here)

Louis acknowledged a fan holding a Sing Walls if Larry is Real sign ( more info here and here).

Louis winks at a fan holding Larry dolls (while singing the “come so far from Princess Park line)

Louis give a thumbs up to a fan holding two photos of him and Harry and points to himself while singing Too Young

Louis’ venue plays Sunflower Vol 6, Kiwi, and Sweet Creature before the show.

Louis acknowledges a fan’s I Can’t Change Tattoo

Louis adds Don’t Stop Believing and Halo to his preshow playlist

Louis acknowledges that Prada released a collection with Larry-inspired tattoos by joining a Prada Twitter space the day of the launch.

Louis uses green lights during OTB for the first time, the night Harry launches the You Are Home campaign. Not just for a moment, but during the whole song

I’m sure this isn’t everything they did this year, but it’s a lot. And some of it may be coincidence or a reach, but all of it? I really doubt it.

#2022 larry moments #2022 Larry masterpost

[nextstopwonderland]

Me: wants a Bryan and Mox sitcom style through the years fanvid set to the Laverne and Shirley theme song and culminating with bcc but doesn’t want to be the one to make it

Also me: stumbles upon this interview bit—

Also me: searches “blackpool combat club full house” —

Finds the greatest thing to ever exist:

To the person who made this: you’re a legend, and all the bcc boys know it

ETÀ: Made the damn Laverne & Shirley vid. If it ends up in the group chat, so be it

#aew #blackpool combat club #bryan danielson #jon moxley #wheeler yuta #claudio castagnoli #William regal #Youtube

[antoniosvivaldi]

Assorted Christmas playlists vol. 2 - Here is a set of four new Christmas playlists for different emotions and atmosphere of the festive season. Comes with a Christmas themed Tag Yourself meme, just like the previous instalment from 2019! (Tag yourself collab with @violets)

Companion uquiz | Assorted Christmas playlists vol. 1

Gingerbread House - Christmas crackers, practical jokes, enjoys watching anime, has an eclectic taste in music, loves to brainstorm, arts & crafts, messy handwritings, mismatched socks, comic strips, colourful flashing lights

A selection of funky songs to dance to for Christmas

{Listen on Spotify}

Silent Night - Counting blessings, candlelights, quill & ink, vintage posters, staying awake at the middle of the night, feels everything deeply, coffeeshop jazz, solving puzzle games, slow and steady to the finish line, mindfulness, ancient library

A selection of introspective songs for the winter nights

{Listen on Spotify}

Cozy Fireplace - Quality time, lovestruck, cardigans, the smell of winter berries, heartfelt letters from loved ones, romance novels, a bowl of hot soup, the smell of fresh oranges, rewatching classic films, stuffing Christmas stockings

A selection of heartwarming songs to enjoy together

{Listen on Spotify}

Christmas at the Beach - Carefree, goes with the flow, life of the party, listens to punk rock at full volume, shirts with tropical prints, street smart, dancing like nobody's watching, fruity punch, loves to be surprised, loves to surf

A selection of pop / punk songs for the summer lovers

{Listen on Spotify}

#christmasedit #aestheticedit #christmas aesthetic #tag yourself #types of people #spotify playlist #christmas #tuserella #tuserheidi #userbess #usershreyu #usertj #usercats #rogerhealey #userrobin #userisaiah #userhallie #usercossette #* #my playlist

[lurkingshan]

Since you've watched a lot of kdrama, what are common things you've seen in kdrama that have been consistently ported into K-BL, and what is your assessment of that approach?

Ooh, interesting question. So first, let's acknowledge a few things:

Korean bl is short format, with even the longest shows (Light on Me, The Eighth Sense) not even half the length of a standard kdrama (16-20 hours), and most clocking in around 2-4 hours

Kbl operates under much smaller budgets and significant constraints around casting as compared to mainstream kdrama

Kbl often draws from webtoons and manwha and mostly does not have the kind of auteur writers and directors behind it that you get in kdrama (Hwang Da-Seul is the most consistent creator in genre with Where Your Eyes Linger, Blueming, To My Star)

All that said, there are a few features of mainstream kdrama that have definitely ported over into kbl despite these constraints:

Slick production values and strong use of setting and color: even the cheapest kbls still look decent, and there is always intentionally behind the setting and use of color palettes to set the tone and feel. Korea has a very well-developed film industry and it shows. Color Rush, Semantic Error and Blueming were fantastic examples of this: even within more familiar school romances, the settings felt specific and the use of color to communicate character and themes was striking. I also think often of Our Dating Sim and Choco Milk Shake and the very effective characterization work achieved through design of the apartments.

Sound production and music on point: the home of kpop is not going to be caught sleeping on the OSTs. Nearly every production has original songs and given the leads of these shows are usually idols, they're often the ones on the tracks. And when they use music that is not original, like in The Eighth Sense, it's a very intentional choice to set mood and tone. Korea is not going to let a boy who can't actually sing take the mic (*side eyes Thailand*). To My Star is a great example of memorable OSTs even in a fairly low budget production, and Wish You and Sing My Crush showed us what kbl can do when it decides to bring the full kpop treatment to bear.

A keen understanding of the international audience: kdrama production is a big part of South Korea's explicit goals to take the global media landscape by storm, and kbl is included in that. It's not a coincidence that Korea decided to step up its game in this arena shortly after Thai bl exploded (shoutout to 2gether and pandemic lockdowns). Kbl follows trends and explicitly caters to international audiences in a way jbl does not. The Eighth Sense was basically a case study in marrying kdrama sensibilities and western aesthetics for maximum international attention.

Second leads and valorization of unrequited love: you and I have discussed this one a lot because this is a feature of kdramas that will never die and that kbls also clearly love. Korea loves a one-sided love story and culturally, there is a certain dignity afforded to owning your feelings and being honest with the object of your affection, even when there is no hope of reciprocation. Often second leads don't get the guy/girl because they hesitate or hide their feelings until it's too late: the trope is used to underline the important of honesty and effort as well as providing a catalyst for the main lead to make their move. In Korean culture, the trying is what matters much more than the succeeding. We are meant to like most second leads and see them as honorable and dignified for their sincere feelings toward the protagonist. Second lead syndrome is a thing for a reason. It's also just a cheap and easy way to create drama so you'll often see it in the lower budget kbls. Second leads showed up recently in kbls like The Tasty Florida, Jun & Jun, Oh! Boarding House, Bon Appetit, etc. We also sometimes see kbls playing with the idea of unrequited love in the main pairing that is actually requited, like in Our Dating Sim.

Love triangles: relatedly, Korea loves them a love triangle, and they are uniquely good at doing it well when they want to. Light on Me is a fantastic example of a narrative where you can legitimately see the protagonist liking and ending up with both the main and second lead. And that is rooted in the way the narrative treats Daon with dignity even as it punishes him for his hesitation in reciprocating Taekyung's feelings (see above). When you have a strong second lead who engenders real sympathy with the audience, love triangle excellence is achieved.

Workplace romances: kdrama loves workplace romances, and we have seen kbl start to move into that space recently with shows like Roommates of Poongdock 304, Love Mate, Our Dating Sim, Jun & Jun, and The New Employee. Kdrama workplace romances run the gamut, but they often feature chaebol characters paired with a "normal" aka not wealthy person, and we are starting to see that more in the bl genre as well, as we discussed a bit yesterday. I believe @nieves-de-sugui commented on your post about how the rich/poor romance fantasy trend in recent bl may be coming in from kdrama. I think there's some truth to that, but really it's a foundational romance trope that predates kdrama by literal centuries, and is absolutely rooted in heteronormative patriarchal dynamics that assume men are breadwinners and caretakers for women (translated to seme/uke dynamics in bl). Often in kdrama the chaebol character is unable to live an authentic life due to the demands of filial piety and the expectations tied to their wealth, and I do think that dynamic is ripe for enrichment when you layer on gay identity in a homophobic society. But that requires shows leaving the no homophobia bubble, which few kbls have done.

Physical intimacy squarely in the middle space: comparing to heat levels we see across the spectrum of dramas, I think kdrama and kbl are pretty consistent in that they tend to land right in the middle of the spectrum. It's rare to see straight up dead fish kisses from romantic leads anymore (though it still happens, wincing at Unintentional Love Story), but they are also not going to be serving authentic sex scenes. What you get instead is very pretty open-mouthed kissing that feels more realistic than, for instance, the pure jbl lane, but still polished and aesthetically pleasing. Think Semantic Error, Blueming, Roomates of Poongdock 304, Love Mate, To My Star 2, Jun & Jun. This seems to be where the genre is landing and I don't expect heat levels to get any higher for kbl, as this is right in line with mainstream kdrama. The Eighth Sense offered a less polished version of intimacy that felt right in line with its grittier sensibilities.

So, after that long list, on to your second question: my assessment of this approach is that kbls are doing fairly well for themselves when you consider the constraints they are operating under. Look at a show like Love Tractor stacked up against something like Hometown Cha Cha Cha. These are both based in the classic romance trope of a city slicker coming to the country and falling in love with a humble working person. But where HCCC has 16 hours to build a quasi-enemies to lovers narrative with a rich community of side characters, LT has 3.5 hours to achieve the same thing. So it makes sense that it would fall back on well-worn tropes and story beats it knows the audience will recognize to help save time. These shortcuts help the audience ground themselves and get invested in the stories quickly.

One thing I'll say is that kbl mostly stays in the romcom lane with very occasional ventures into melo, and despite what casual observers think, kdrama actually has a lot more to offer than that. It's a giant world with stories based in every possible genre, tone, and style, and Korean media is particularly adept at embedding romance plots that actually work in all kinds of stories including action thrillers, horror, crime narratives, mysteries, supernatural and fantasy epics. I'd love to see kbl try this, though of course it would require the resources and runtime to do it successfully. Here's hoping they get the chance.

#bestie i hope you wanted a dissertation #because i have zero chill on this topic #kdrama #korean bl #shan answers

[textless]

I learned lots of interesting hyena facts, which I'll mostly spare you for the moment. But did you know that hyenas make up their own distinct family (Hyaenidae), separate from dogs and cats?

Hyenas scavenge, of course, but they are also fast and very effective hunters in their own right, and they are the animal I would least like to be eaten by. You can read all about them here.

More to the point, every single time I saw a hyena during my trip, the REM song Hyena played full blast in my head. And even now, editing photos in my own house, the hyena theme song is very much a thing.

Hyena, take your role, the stage is set The town is safe again tonight

You're welcome.

#hyena #kenya #REM #Hyaenidae #photographers on tumblr #textless #amadee ricketts #face #spotted hyena #zebra

[writingquestionsanswered]

Any advice to write your own quotes that is not so common?

Learning to Write Memorable/Quotable Prose

As readers, we know there are few things better than reading a quote that hits in all the right ways...

"The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections." —Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

“Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you go on even though you’re scared.” —Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

As writers, part of the dream is to be able to craft quotes that resonate with our readers like that... quotes that will be quoted... quotes that will be remembered.

Unfortunately, learning to write quotable prose isn't something you can do immediately just by following a few tips. It requires a few thing that take some time...

1 - A Fertile Mind - A big part of being able to write quotable prose is having a fertile mind... or in other words, giving your brain all the right elements it needs to be able to produce quotable prose. Here are some things you can do to encourage a fertile mind:

-- Filling Your Creative Well ensures that your brain is full of words, ideas, and imagery that will help you think up memorable quotes.

-- Improve your vocabulary by using a thesaurus (just make sure to cross-reference with a dictionary), subscribing to Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day e-mails, buying a "word of the day" desk calendar, using a reference like The Describer's Dictionary or the Random House Word Menu, and reading as much as you can--books, short stories, poetry, magazines, blog posts, song lyrics, anything you can get your hands on. Read through lists of vocabulary related to specific things, like geography, weather, architecture, travel, etc. Keep a journal of new words and their meanings as well as words that resonate with you.

-- Bring out your inner poet by reading poetry (there's a ton of poetry available for free online), reading song lyrics, and trying to write your own poetry.

-- Fill your mind with beautiful imagery by traveling... in person, if you can, but if you can't, YouTube makes it super easy to be an armchair traveler. There are countless beautiful videos of every place on Earth you could ever want to visit. There are travel documentaries, montages of beautiful scenery, walk-throughs, and tours. You can also go to a photo site like Pexels or Pixabay and type in random imagery terms like "mountains" or "starry night" and see what images come up. Save the ones that speak to you most in a pretty folder.

2 - Practice - Even with a full creative well and fertile mind, you're still not going to be able to instantly craft beautiful prose or memorable quotes. You still need to hone this skill through lots of practice. That's going to mean trying to craft beautiful prose and memorable quotes, which is going to mean writing a lot of not-so-great ones before they get better and better. Try looking at some of those pretty images you saved and see if you can write some pretty quotes about them. Look at the list of interesting vocabulary you saved and see if you can use any of it to craft a pretty quote. Take a pretty line of poetry or a evocative song lyric and try to craft it into a memorable quote. And more than anything else... just write your stories and always try to craft beautiful prose and memorable sentences. The more you try, the better you'll get.

3 - Have a story that merits pretty prose and memorable quotes - The truth of the matter is that even if you do everything listed above, you still won't be able to craft pretty prose and memorable quotes unless your story provides you the necessary raw materials. You need an engaging plot, compelling characters, interesting themes, quote-worthy imagery in plot elements and setting, and both characters and circumstances where memorable quotes make sense.

If you do all of these things, though, you'll be writing pretty prose and memorable quotes in no time! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

[munsonsreputation]

congrats on 500!!!!! 💞💞💞💞💞

i wanna request #4 with you’re on your own, kid and steve. he grew up not having many friends / not real friends and he’s kinda had to look out for himself since he was young, but now he finally has people, including a gf who cares about him v much and makes it v known that he’s not alone anymore (and who maybe grew up similarly? ). 🫶 maybe steve kinda has a hard time with it at first tho cuz abandonment / trust issues 💔

hi j!!!!!

im so sorry that this took so long for me to complete, but i hope i was still able to to your request justice!!! i 110% believe that steve harrington is yoyok coded and if he heard this song he would have a whole ass breakdown thinking about his life.

i had such a fun time writing this and it was really really heartfelt!!! i hope you love it and thank you so much for your support!!! 🧸🌃💘

Birthdays were never easy nor special for Steve Harrington, mostly because his parents never made it a big event or celebration to be getting older.

Instead, it was treated more as a lecture. His parents would bring him to a fancy restaurant. His mother would sit quietly, bowing her head as his father went on and on about how Steve needed to be more responsible so that he could work for his company.

Steve would have to patiently sit through two grueling hours of that dinner. Poking and prodding at his steak and mashed potatoes as he pretended to listen. There was no singing happy birthday. No making wishes or blowing out candles. No surprise presents or hugs from either of his parents. Just the mere reminder that getting older meant getting more miserable.

But at some point, his parents must have gotten the hint that their idea of a birthday celebration wasn’t appreciated nor wanted by their son. So instead of trying to make up for those lost years, they stopped trying all together. Awkwardly handing him a card full of cash—not that Steve wasn’t grateful for it, but simply a hug or even a genuine smile from them would have sufficed just as much.

So yeah, Steve’s birthday was never his favorite time of the year, but he vowed to make everyone else’s special.

He went big for everyone’s birthday. Full fledge themes and decorated houses. Whole sheet cakes with an immense amount of candles. Birthday hats and noisemakers. Messily wrapped, yet jaw dropping presents that he knew his friends were dying for.

All of Steve Harrington’s friends had the best birthdays because of him.

But his girlfriend…even better.

Steve threw you elaborate celebrations ever since you two had begun dating. Your favorite one so far is when he turned his parents’ home into a huge escape room for you and your friends. Everyone dressed up in their best outfits and roamed around the house, trying to find the clues he had planted hours ago. He pretended like he didn’t have any idea, not even giving you a single hint as you squeezed his hand and begged.

Eventually, though, you all figured it out, and then he gifted you a key to his home as one of the gifts. Your favorite gifts he had ever given you. Mostly because it allowed you to drop in and visit him whenever you missed him, but especially because it got you into his home to set up a birthday celebration of his own.

You knew Steve wasn’t fond of his own birthday. All of his friends knew it was a touchy subject, so they didn’t go all out, but you were more than determined to make up for all those years. Steve had made your birthday so special and you wanted to show him how loved he was.

“He’s here!” You screeched quietly, peeking away from the living room curtains completely dimming the space where you and your friends were hiding.

In order to properly execute Steve’s surprise party, he unfortunately worked his entire shift alone. Robin had called a few minutes after he clocked in with a convincing story of how she caught the cold just the night before. She even hung up the phone without greeting him a happy birthday, and though he hated his birthday, he missed the annoying greetings that his friends would offer countless amount of times until the clock struck midnight.

The only greeting he received today was from you, early in the morning, before he had gotten up and got ready for work. Your voice dripping with sweetness and palpable slumber as you serenaded him with happy birthday and told him that you loved him a million times. You reminded him of the “plans” you had made, for him to pick you up after work and go to a fancy restaurant a few minutes into town.

That was essentially the only thing keeping Steve going for the rest of his sad twenty-second birthday. The moment for him to finally see you face to face and pretend to endure a night full of annoying happy birthdays coming from his favorite girl, when it sounded the sweetest coming from you.

You listened as the keys jingled from the other side of the door and watched as the lock turned open, before hopping up from your spot on the floor, followed by the others.

“Happy Birthday, Stevie!”

The shouting filled the room, along with the noisemakers and whistles coming from you and his friends. The entire area decorated with balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling.

You, front and center with your arms expanded, greeting him with a smile big enough to take up the rest of your face. A party hat sitting perfectly at the top of your head as he made his way over with an exceptionally big smile on his face, enough to show his appreciation for the tricks he knew were up your sleeve.

“Babe!” you screeched with a laugh, draping your arms around his neck as he hoisted you a few inches off the ground and laid a kiss on your lips, thanking you for this.

You could feel the smile seeping from his face as he continued to kiss you. The kind of smile within a kiss where you can feel his teeth and lips just rest upon yours, taking everything in before he kissed you again.

“Break it up you two!” Robin joked, stretching the elastic of a party hat over Steve’s head and snapping it in place.

He winced dramatically, as you giggled, staying by his side as all his friends took the time to give him a hug and warm wishes.

For once in his life, his heart swarmed with a whirlwind of emotions for someone other than you who could evoke such a feeling. He loved his friends, he always had, but this was something that they did not only out of the kindness of their hearts, but with taking the chance, knowing that he wasn’t fond of his birthday.

The children seemed more excited than him, thrusting a messily wrapped box in his hands as they swarmed around you and him, “Here open it!”

“You’re supposed to wait until present time, idiots!” Eddie snickered, knowing exactly what was in the box and why the kids were so excited to present it to Steve in the first place.

Dustin flashed Eddie the middle finger from behind, keeping his eyes on his dearest babysitter with a toothy smile on his face, “Open it! You’re gonna love it!”

Steve looked at you, a grin on his face as you nodded and rested your hands on his shoulders when he began shredding away at the paper with ease. The pure expression, like a little kid opening the best present on Christmas morning flashing to your eyes as you watched him realize what it was.

A pair of sneakers that he had been eyeing since the footlocker displayed the shoe a few months ago. He’d been telling you that he was going to pull the trigger and buy it one of these days, but alas he never did. Just merely admiring the leather behind the glass of the store and walking past it as he clocked in and out of work.

Originally, you were planning on buying it for Steve’s birthday gift, but the kids seemed more adamant about wanting to band together in order to purchase the special gift for their one of a kind favorite babysitter.

“Holy shit…did you guys rob the footlocker?” He sought stunned, plucking up one of the pairs and inspecting the material.

El and Max both giggled, rattling their heads as they explained, “We all saved for the last couple of weeks. Me and El babysat Holly for a few bucks. Dustin and Lucas went around mowing lawns. And Will and Mike did a few car washes.”

“And what about me?” Eddie chided in again, as if he was the savior of this plan the children had hatched out.

Dustin groaned, turning around towards Eddie then back to Steve, “And Eddie gave us a ride to the mall to pick it up.”

Looking around the room at the knuckleheads he had babysat since his junior year of high school, they’d grown so much, and really were the kindest kids in Hawkins. Sure, they loved to give him a hard time now and then, but it was out of love, and doing something as nice as this—taking up what literally was part-time jobs to get him something as sentimental as this was everything to him.

He settled the box on the ground, opening his arms as he closed his eyes and nodded his head. “C’mere…c’mon.”

“Happy Birthday, Stevo.” El whispered, being the first of the kids who settled into his side and embraced him affectionately before the others followed suit.

Your heart warmed at the sight, taking in the precious moments like this where Steve really was the kind of man who was grateful for the little twerps that made his life a little more interesting. He never grew up with siblings himself, or really any family members around his age, and part of this felt like it was healing his inner child—the little Steve who craved for family that actually cared about him.

The hug only last a few seconds, but Jonathan managed to capture a photo that would definitely be framed and put on a shelf in Steve’s bedroom. When the children pulled away, and Steve reached under him for the box, he turned towards you.

“Gonna head upstairs and put these away. Can you come with me?”

You smiled, nodding your head, taking his free hand and following him up the steps and into his bedroom where he had shut the door. You took it upon yourself to take a seat on the end of his bed, watching his back while he shuffled through his closet, trying to find space for his new kicks.

“I’m kinda impressed the kids managed to save up all that money in a few weeks.” You laughed, resting on your elbows, as Steve didn’t respond.

What you couldn’t see were the tears welling up in his eyes, but you didn’t miss the small croak he had let out in an attempt to swallow off the sob.

“Babe, what’s the matter?”

Your voice was soft and soothing, taking you from his bed right to him, where you placed a comforting hand on his back and leaned forward to see more of him.

His eyes sealed tightly and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth to fight off the urge to just cry into your arms. He couldn’t pinpoint these emotions, and the first thing he thought in his mind was being angry at himself when he should be happy because his girlfriend and his friends did this amazing thing for him.

Steve shook his head, still not uttering a word, yet following you when you took his hand and sat the two of you on his bed. He felt the silly party hat come off his head where you pulled it off and did the same to yours.

“D-did the party upset you? I’m so sorry, Steve, I just wanted to plan something special because you also do something special for everyone else’s birthday.”

He couldn’t just let you sit there, assuming this was your fault because it wasn’t. And if anything, Steve was just so elated that this was even happening, but he was also so new to this kind of thing.

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” He captured your hand and swiped away at his tears with the other.

Your eyes wandered up to his face, giving his hand a firm squeeze when you searched his teary eyes, “You can tell me what’s the matter…I’m always here to listen.”

Steve knew you were always the shoulder he could cry on and the ears who would listen to his endless thoughts. He had opened up before about birthdays and how his were always difficult to face, so it wasn’t necessarily fresh news to you.

“I—I don’t feel alone.” He stammered a little ache in his speech, but swiftly dispelled with a slight smile.

You tilted your head sideways, trying to make sense of his words, “I don’t think I understand?”

Steve nodded, swallowing and taking a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts so that he wouldn’t spend an hour with you up here, venting about everything he was feeling.

“I guess, I never viewed my birthday as something special, you know?” He said, looking at you and you nodded, rubbing your fingers across his palm, calming him.

“I’d just used to sit at home and avoid my parents because they didn’t know how to handle my birthday either…but it’s like for the first time, I was actually glad that it was my birthday, to have you, and all my friends here for me.” He clarified.

You knew that there was still more he wanted to say, as he took a deep breath and squeezed your hand back, “I—I’m just terrified of losing it or…or even believing that so many people would care enough about me to want to celebrate me.”

He let out a shaky breath, tearing his eyes away from you and staring at his floor, trying to make sense of everything in his mind.

But suddenly you spoke, reached over to grab ahold of his hand where he looked back into your sparkling eyes.

“Steve, you have no clue how much me and the rest of our friends love you—you’re the rock of our friendships and our lives, basically.” You chuckled, watching as he shook his head in disbelief.

But you nodded, eyes going a little wide, and you started again.

“Seriously, I mean it. You’re the person who always organizes and plans everyones birthday party. You force the kids to make up when they’re all fighting over stupid shit. You’re the first person I call about good news, bad news, hell, all the news because you’re my rock and I care for you so much. More than words can even begin to describe.”

Your fingers loosened from his, instead holding his cheeks in his hand where you could feel the skin lift as he smiled against you. Those teary glossy eyes turned into the pools of happiness and warmth, staring back at his person.

You knew that Steve struggled a lot with accepting love, but you also knew that there was a part of Steve that always believed in loving everyone around him. You just needed to help him see that.

“I know your parents might not have been the best, but that’s the beauty of life…” Your thumbs swept across the high points of his face, and Steve swore he could feel your the pulse in your fingertips that rested, comfortable on the rest of his face.

“Because family doesn’t always have to be blood. Family can be the ones you choose to keep in your life, so even if at one point you felt like you were alone when you were a kid, you’re not anymore. Because I’m here, we’re here, and that’s something that no one can take away from you.”

Your voice and your words were like a calm wave meeting his shore of horrible childhood experiences that he had to endure all alone. Now suddenly washing all of that away. Your eyes gawking passionately into his was like another wave, this time leaving behind him with a shore that was fresh. New shells of memories embedded into the sand and for once in his life he let go.

Steve let go of all of that pent up anger and resentment, replacing it with contentment and hope. He knew that he probably would never have the greatest relationship with either of his parents, but he had you to look forward to. He had his chosen family that he knew would always be there no matter what.

For once, he felt like a weight lifted off of his shoulders from being afraid of embracing the people he loved and the same love they held for him. That this moment wasn’t too good to be true, it was just true. A moment that he wanted to take and taste forevermore.

“I love you.” He grinned, taking his hands and pulling you close enough to connect your lips.

Everything in the past that Steve let go was a new step he was taking, one where you would always hold him and stand by.

You breathed him in, appreciating Steve and everything that made him who he was. That today was a special celebration of showing the person you loved how grateful you were for him.

“I love you too, baby.”

When you pulled away, you clutched his hand, standing up and looking towards his door, then back at him. He could face this, and he was looking forward to facing the rest of his birthdays with a smile on his face.

Steve reached for the silly party hats, placing his back on, and laughing when he put yours on.

“Let’s get this party started.”

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