#chris.004

[rn-zane]

TIMING: morning after feral SETTING: zane's home PARTIES: @chrisgates + @rn-zane WARNINGS: vomiting tw SUMMARY: chris and zane deal with the aftermath of their meeting in the woods

The creaking that came from the old house woke him up and when he opened his eyes, Christopher was greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. On the other end of that, the ache he felt through his bones was awfully familiar, though painful, it meant that he was alive — and that he felt like shit, too. His head hurt. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes again, but the foreign environment made that difficult. As did the hand at his wrist, limp, but it held firm despite the unconscious body it belonged to. Zane. 

Chris twisted his fingers enough to where he could feel Zane’s skin. He was cold. A flurry of panic started before he could remember all the weird stuff that happened before — the red eyes, the teeth, that whole alleyway stand-off all those months ago. That math, although it worked in the fictional sense, didn’t add up to him. He wouldn’t let it. That would mean that everything else was real and Chris didn’t want that. 

He leaned forward to take a firmer hold of Zane’s own wrist; worry became his driving force, overriding everything else. The pain would be there whether he moved or not, so he ignored it in favor of a better view of the other man’s face. There was no breath nor life to be found. “Zane?” Came Chris’ hoarse, panicked whisper. A moment of exhaustion elicited a weak sigh from him, but he gave Zane’s forearm a gentle shake with the hope that he wasn’t dead. Something told him he already knew the answer, but that didn’t stop him from thinking the worst.

—

Sometimes, there was an upside to a dreamless sleep, if sleep was even an apt word for it. Zane no longer really needed sleep but it was a good way to pass the time since being conscious for 24 hours a day, every day, was exhausting. It was a clear blessing now that no dreams haunted him in his current state of not being - they would have been filled with visions of blood and pale skin and feral eyes which could have belonged to either one of them. Because there had been two of them, hadn’t there? Yes, someone other than him, someone whose skin was warm against his cold palm, pulse thrumming faintly. A soft voice speaking his name, breaking through the haze of unconsciousness. 

Along with the groggy relief that flooded him at the sound of Chris’s voice came the pain. There was no fear or adrenaline keeping it at bay now, letting the tearing and burning sensation run rampant. Zane’s grip tightened on the wrist it held for a moment, hiss escaping through his teeth and eyes scrunching before finally fluttering open. Seeing Chris awake, still definitely pale and covered in blood but alive, was a decent distraction from the pain. “You’re okay?” he breathed, needing to hear it confirmed, not trusting his eyes to not betray him. With every second he gathered his thoughts better, ‘woke up’ in a sense and finally let Chris’s arm go. It hurt to turn, to move and sit up straighter, torn shirt sticking to raw skin and wounds and tugging at them. He needed to see his work from last night, see that the bandages had stuck and nothing was bleeding through. That the full horror of his own doing, the evidence of which was dried all over his neck and shirt, wasn’t visible. 

—

“Eh,” came Chris’ reply. He weakly dropped his head back onto the couch once he knew that Zane was alive. Relief was evident on his face — or maybe that was just the fatigue. Okay was definitely not the word he’d used, but it would do. He was alive, by some miracle. The amount of blood that had dried onto their skin and into what little clothing remained told him that at least one of them should be a goner. He was glad it didn’t come to that. A shiver overtook him then once his worry for Zane gave way. It wasn’t violent, but it was noticeable. “I’m.. okay,” he assured, though he wasn’t entirely convinced of that himself. 

Chris could see Zane’s chest a little better when he moved. He followed the mess of blood down to the wounds visible beneath the torn and frayed gashes of what little shirt remained. He couldn’t make out much detail, but his initial, woozy assumption was correct: Zane did look worse. He didn’t even know the extent of his own injuries, but he could tell he made it out with the better deal. “Are..” oh how dried his mouth and throat had become. Did he sleep with his mouth open or something? He tried to clear his throat, accomplishing little, but it was enough to get out at least one question. “Are you okay?” That was probably a stupid question considering how badly Zane’s wounds looked, but he was alive and sitting upright, which had to be a good thing.

—-

Zane would have laughed if it didn’t make his chest burn but a tired smile did form on his lips because ‘eh’ was the perfect way to describe the current situation. They were both alive, or so to speak, and at least for now, Chris didn’t seem to want to throw the blame for the giant wound on his throat. The sudden shiver didn’t go unmissed and panic rose in Zane for a second, hands instinctively moving to pull the blanket over Chris higher up. Decency hadn’t exactly been his main worry last night but as he moved the only thing currently protecting the other man’s dignity, he was acutely aware of the glaring lack of clothing. He’d need to get the other some new clothes but a shower seemed necessary first and…

His attention snapped back to Chris as he spoke, thoughts still spinning around behind his eyes, which followed the other’s gaze down to his own chest. Right. “I’ll be fine, looks worse than it is,” Zane explained quickly and, as if to prove the point, moved to stand. It did the opposite, the process filled with wincing and harsh breaths sucked through teeth but at last, he stood. “See?” he attempted, jaw still clenched from the waves of pain. “I heal fast,” Zane added after a beat. 

“I think… we should get you in some clothes,” he thought aloud, grateful to be able to focus on removing the needle from Chris’s arm as he approached the subject. “A shower first probably makes sense, there’s one on this floor so no stairs. If you think you’re up for it, might get you warm, too.” Needle discarded, Zane looked over at the other to gauge for a reaction to this plan and found himself, even in these worst of circumstances, thankful that blushing was no longer a thing he could do. Even pale and covered in grime and blood, Chris was breathtaking, especially up close and Zane really needed to get some distance between their faces right now. 

Straightening back up with slightly less effort than before - at least the distraction of these very inappropriate thoughts helped with the pain - Zane offered a hand. “Wanna give it a shot?”

—

Chris wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what his mind told him what had happened. There were flashes of images that made no sense — but they were familiar. He’d seen things like that before. He just thought that the gore that seemed to plague him was merely a figment, a fabrication of his trauma. He didn’t think it could potentially be real; no — he never wanted it to be real, so he tried his best to push it away and ignore it. But it was here again. There was no ignoring it this time. He was grateful for Zane’s helpful hands and the distraction that came from the blanket as he didn’t want to linger on those thoughts. Not right now.

Zane’s pain was another helpful distraction, even if he’d prefer not to see him in it. A lie, Chris thought as much. Did he… What could have done that? An answer blinked across his mind, but it didn’t linger. He watched with raised brows as Zane pushed through the discomfort at having to stand. “Looks.. like it feels pretty bad, too…” He coughed out; there was just the smallest edge of humor in his observation, but concern overrode mostly everything else. “Not fast enough,” If he was still standing there with gashes in his chest, then no, it definitely wasn’t fast enough. Wolverine would have been fine — Zane, not so much.

Clothes sounded great, but a shower sounded even better. The blood that coated him was no longer sticky, but it stuck in uncomfortable places and pulled at his chest hair whenever he moved. He didn’t think he could really make it, depending on how far the bathroom was from where they were, but he would try. It would be a little awkward with the misplaced footing and nudity, but this was not the first time he’d been completely naked in front of the other man. He doubted it’d be the last. 

Chris watched as Zane removed the needle from his arm without a wince to be found. It was nothing compared to the pain that throbbed from his neck. He hoped the shower would be a good distraction from the agony that found home in tender spaces — he also hoped it would be hot. He needed to feel his skin sear. He needed the water to scald him. There was no answer as to why, it just felt necessary. He gave it just a moment to think, wondering how exactly the trip would go, when he figured to just go for it. Zane was there to help, after all. (Wasn’t he?) So Chris nodded and offered him a small, but eager “yeah” and took his hand. 

—-

Zane appreciated the concern, he really did, but waved it off nonetheless. “It’ll be fine. Seriously. Healed a broken leg in just a few weeks, so…” The pain probably would have been overwhelming without the distraction of something more important, if not for the need to help someone more important. Not only was Chris just barely brought back from physical devastation but the confusion and hurt behind his eyes eluded to the war being waged inside his head. A strange familiarity had flashed behind the dual colored eyes upon looking over the gashes, quickly overtaken by something else, something dark. 

At least Zane knew what he was, even if he neither liked nor particularly wanted to accept it. 

“Yeah,” he parroted back, smiling softly as he grabbed the other’s hand. As expected, it was… a hassle and a half. Supernatural strength or not, Zane’s chest tugged and ached with every movement and Chris wasn’t exactly small, wolf or not. At least this was an improvement from last night, with the other man awake and somewhat able to stand on two feet. The blanket, that would need a very thorough cleaning once this was all through, was haphazardly secured around Chris’s waist before they moved further, allowing both of them to cling to the delusion of privacy. 

After the short but arduous journey was complete, Chris slowly lowered down to tiled shower floor, Zane heaved a sigh of relief. Leaning back against the wall, head settling back as he let his eyes close for a moment while the black edges of pain faded from his vision, a short huff of a laugh escaped him. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” he sighed, amusement tinting the words because if there was no humor to be found in this, the melancholy of it all would drag him to the ground and he wasn’t sure if he’d get back up again. 

Eyes finally opened again and he glanced down at Chris, offering another smile. “Towels in the cupboard, I’ll bring back some clothes and uh… call out if you need anything more, I guess?” Wary to leave the room in case horror struck again, Zane finally did - with the door left ajar - after one last glance at the man he had only managed to meet under the strangest and bloodiest of circumstances. 

His ears were perked the whole time as he settled for cleaning off his face and chest at the sink, not wanting to miss a shout for assistance if he jumped in one of the house’s showers. A pair of sweats, neatly folded, were placed outside the bathroom door where everything still sounded fine, Zane finally slumping back onto the couch once his own ruined pants had been changed as well. It wouldn’t do much for the healing but still, he started the process of getting some bandages on his own chest. 

—

It’ll be fine, he said. It didn’t look fine, Chris thought, but he figured there was no point to argue, not when Zane seemed so sure, and not when either of them were in no position to argue in the first place. If he didn’t do something about those cuts, though, then he’d bring it up again, but for now, he accepted the help without pushing the subject again. 

The walk sucked. It wasn’t the worst walk he’d ever have to do, but it still sucked. He was grateful for Zane, for his support and company. He made the short, yet uncomfortable trip to the bathroom just a bit better. Relief found him when they made it to the room and he was finally met with the cooled tile floor. They felt good on his angry, inflamed skin. 

Zane’s comment pulled a tired, but full laugh from Chris. “Hey, I’m not complaining,” he joked, but actually he would like for them to stop meeting like this. This was a little too traumatizing for his tastes. Their first meeting had been unusually awkward enough, but it only seemed to get worse from there. At least he was nice. “No, I’m kidding…” he had to clarify with another small laugh and held a hand up in defense. “Something more.. Normal would be nice.” For next time, but he didn’t say that out loud. What if next time ended up being worse? 

“Thanks…” went his lame ass reply of appreciation, but he really did feel grateful for what Zane did and continued to do for him. He hoped that at least it showed on his face. If not, he owed him regardless. It only seemed to get better when the door was left open — mostly likely to be able to hear for any potential accidents on Chris’ end, but having not been confined, even in the bathroom, relaxed him immensely. He knew the shower would do wonders for his aching muscles and low mood, but the act of leaving the door open, especially when most people would prefer privacy, left him feeling over the moon. It was stupid, but it made him happy.

The shower was… Well, it was nice. It felt like every other shower after a night of whatever it was he managed to get himself into. He made sure not to get the stitches wet, even though that was never instructed on Zane’s part — that was difficult, however. He wanted nothing more than to dip his whole head under the stream of water, but he’d rather err on the side of caution.

After the water was shut off, Chris stood in the shower for a bit longer than necessary. He really didn’t want to get out, but he didn’t want Zane to worry more, so after another beat, he stepped out, dried off to the best of his ability, and found a set of sweats neatly folded just outside the bathroom door. He had wondered about that initially, but he was glad Zane seemed to think of everything. Feeling clean and having clean clothes was honestly the best, and it felt like he was being wrapped up in a warm hug. He savored the feeling for just a hair longer before he figured he should probably poke his head out and find his very consistent rescuer.

The journey back to the living room made the most sense, so Chris headed in that direction to find Zane on the couch. He would have looked comfortable if it weren’t for the long cuts along his chest. Bandages, good — at least they were being taken care of.

“Hey..” he greeted softly.. Both of his hands were buried in the pockets of the sweats he wore; they messed with the soft inner fabric, a nervous habit.

—-

From the second the water stopped running, Zane’s ears were perked even further, listening for any sound of trouble. It took every inch of self control not to call out or rush in there as the silence drew on for longer and longer but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - hover uncomfortably. Plus, Chris’s sense of privacy had been abused enough for one day. The fact that he had seen the man naked, held him naked to make things even better, more often than some of the people he’d been intimate with was really a painfully ironic situation. 

Luckily for the vampire’s frayed nerves and the endless spinning of his thoughts, Chris finally appeared, now the much healthier looking out of the two of them. “Hey,” Zane breathed back, fully ignoring the warm feeling of seeing someone else in his clothes because the situation that forced it was horrendous and made the feeling bad and twisted. “I, uh… I ordered some food. Since I don’t really keep… any.” His hands fiddled with the roll of tape he was holding before he finally put it down, glancing back up at Chris. 

“Do you… I mean, should we talk about… last night?” His voice was hesitant, the words chosen carefully which ultimately just made it sound like they’d accidentally hooked up and were now trying to tread the waters of a morning after. “We don’t have to but… I’m here. If you want to.”

—

At the mention of food, Chris’ stomach grumbled as if it were waiting for that cue. Oh, right, that was something he needed to do. He remembered having lunch the day prior (was it the day prior???), but anything after that was a huge blur. Apparently, he was far overdue for a meal, but he was tickled that Zane had thought about ordering something even if he didn’t need to — really, he would have been fine if there was no mention of it but the fact that he went ahead and took it upon himself to add even more comfort to an already jarring experience made Chris feel incredibly cared for.

It was the first time in a long time and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Really? You didn’t ha...” Objection, objection, objection — to some that would be disrespectful. He caught himself before he resorted to the usual dismissal of anything good his way and instead replaced it with a look of sheepish appreciation. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t help but to feel like a burden, even now. “Thank you,” he conceded, his tone nothing but sincere. This was just another thing to add to the ‘owe list’, he supposed.

It was nice of him to add that they didn’t really have to talk about what happened the night before, but — they should, shouldn’t they? If you woke up to a neck wound that needed stitches and a friend that looked like they fought a cheese grater and won, you’d want to know too, right? Chris worried at the soft, wool-like material with his thumbs before he removed both hands and shuffled over to the couch. He settled back onto the couch heavily — he tried to ignore the blood stains — yet carefully enough to not disturb Zane too much, in case he too was still in pain.

His palms ran along his thighs and smooth the sweatpant material until they found purchase against his knees. He gave them both a squeeze, clearly uncomfortable. He needed to know. “I, heh.. I don’t really want to, but…” Chris felt a curl of hair fall until it tickled the very top of one of his eyebrows. He didn’t bother with fixing it. He couldn’t move his hands. “... What happened.. Exactly?,” he asked hesitantly, fearfully. 

—--

Ordering food, the idea of nourishment after the blood Zane had aggressively removed from the other man, had been more instinct than actual thought. He hadn’t meant for the gesture to bring that look of guilt onto Chris’s face, hadn’t even meant for it to be a gesture at all. The thought that he owed Chris a meal anyway since the other had, nonconsensually as it may have been, provided Zane with a meal, tickled at the back of his mind. A poor joke, one that thankfully stayed locked up. “It’s nothing,” he said instead, thankful when Chris decided to join him on the couch instead of running out. Maybe the promise of food was good enough to keep him here. 

Zane turned on the couch and crossed his legs, facing the nervous man and waiting patiently. It was easier to focus his gaze on the restless hands than the stray lock of hair just begging to be pushed back but even just the hands were setting off ‘Nurse Zane’s’ innate need to provide physical comfort. So he dug his own fingers into the material of the couch, glancing up once Chris finally gave permission for the story to be told. 

“I saw…” He hesitated, heaved a useless breath, and then continued. “I saw a wolf. A giant one. Disturbed it feeding so it went after me, instead.” Zane’s eyes moved down to his chest, bandaged but still aching. “I, uhm… I’m not much of a fighter but it had me trapped so I just… well, on instinct, I guess, I… bit it.” He wanted to glance up at the wound he had inflicted, now covered by bandages, just like Wynne’s, but refrained. “And then the wolf, uh… was you. Is you. Like you sort of rearranged yourself back to… normal but then you were bleeding a lot so I… I brought you here.”

—

It’s nothing. No, maybe not, but to Chris it was an incredibly kind gesture. There weren’t too many people in his life who were thoughtful like that — there weren’t too many people in his life at all, actually. Regardless, he figured it was best not to linger on that. He had other things to worry about, like the slightly confusing information that Zane just dropped onto him.

He listened to it, absorbed it, and took note of the pauses. Despite being still and mostly unreactive, his hands had clenched tightly around a clump of material at both knees, knuckles pale, revealing how he felt. Him? For years now there had been plenty of what he assumed were displaced memories of horrific things that plagued him every waking and sleeping moment. For years they were the same or similar in their blood and carnage and he always assumed that maybe, just maybe, they were manifestations from the horrors of his upbringing. He thought it was just in his head, that he was just broken.

One of Chris’ legs started to bounce. A lump started in his throat, one he desperately tried to push down to no avail. He felt his eyes sting. A breath of a small, sardonic laugh escaped him, unable to really believe what he just heard. No, no that couldn’t be. But the bite. Everything else could be explained away but the fucking bite. He could feel it throb, as if on cue, beneath the bandages that were wrapped tenderly on his neck.

He looked down at his lap. A wave of lightheadedness overtook him then and he had to let out a slow, shaky breath as he shook his head. “Um…” He swallowed. Or tried to. “Are you… Are you sure?” His voice broke just a hair at the end, inflection raised as if he were asking Zane not to be.

—

This was too much. He’d said too much, too fast and Chris looked about ready to break. Zane finally caved, one hand finding the shaking one on the shifter’s knee, giving a tight but gentle squeeze. “I wish I wasn’t,” he said quietly, his own voice breaking with hurt for the other man. “But it wasn’t… it wasn’t you. I know I don’t exactly know you like that but it was completely different from you. I don’t know if it’s just a part of you or what but you’re not someone who would hurt people willingly.”

Zane scooted closer on the couch, desperate to make sure that whatever he was saying, however little knowledge he was basing it on, was heard. “Chris… I’ve hurt people too,” he continued, voice thick. Unsure if he was making things better or worse right now. “Without meaning to, without wanting to so… if you want, I’m here. I don’t know how but I want to help, if you’ll let me.” And if he wanted to bolt out of here, never run into the vampire that only seemed to pop under the worst of circumstances, Zane would let him. 

—

The hand that found itself over his own was a comforting one, but it did little to quell Chris’ rising panic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his thumb to try and caress what skin he could reach. A part of him wanted to shake himself free of Zane’s touch, but there was nothing but care here, nothing but a tenderness that made him want to at least try to be normal despite the whirlwind of emotions. The sting in his eyes only worsened when he’d felt the hand. Tears swelled, though not quite enough to fall over the brim of his lower lashline. Monster, evil, stupid thing. “How…” He swallowed thickly before he continued with a shaky breath. “How do you know… I.. I don’t even know.. N-not anymore.”

He felt something else grow behind his distraught and growing anguish. It nestled in the pit of his stomach and churned with each thought and memory of death his mind managed to dig up. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Zane also being a potential murderer. He couldn’t pick apart his emotions or figure out where one ended and another began. It was a mess and although it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling with accidental serial killing, it made him feel sick. He killed all those people and just… forgot about it. Chose to forget about it. He still wanted to forget about it, ignore it until it ate away at him again and again. He didn’t want this hell—

“I’ll… be right-back...” Chris promised with a hurried tension. His nausea only worsened the more he continued to think and try to unthink; the only thing that really helped tether him to the present was Zane’s hand. That wouldn’t stop the knots in his stomach, so he had to remove himself from the couch, from the other man’s touch, and stiffly walked, not ran because that would have made it worse, back to the bathroom. He became acquainted with the toilet in there, although the relief was brief. The sob that escaped him echoed within the porcelain bowl and threatened to keep him fixed to the toilet, but he willed himself up to at least rinse his face in the sink. He shook with every step and even though his body reacted so viscerally, his mind continued to rebel against it.

Chris couldn’t help it — he dropped to the tiled floor and cried. The sound of his knees crashing against the floor, though covered with material, was probably audible. He didn’t care. He was too busy with his face in his hands, crying, and wondering why him.

—-

How did one know if someone was a good person? Zane had definitely put his trust in the wrong people before, on more than one occasion but… so far he hadn’t been wrong about the presence of a genuine kind soul. He thought about people like Ariadne and Jonas who simply warmed you with their presence but when that didn’t feel like the right comparison, he thought about Emilio. It would have been so easy to judge the slayer on his actions and his words, just like with Chris, but it was impossible to ignore the innate kindness. Even covered in blood and bodies. 

“Guess you’re just going to have to trust me on that,” was the only thing Zane could think to say, squeezing the hand in his tighter until he was forced to let go. 

The relief felt when Chris didn’t gun for the door was short lived, the pained sounds from the bathroom gluing Zane stuck to the couch for a moment. He finally moved closer, slowly, taking a seat next to the door and leaning his head back against the wall. It was unfair that Chris was going through this with someone who barely knew him, someone who couldn’t even tell how to help him, if anything even would. Zane was overthinking this, he knew that, and in a way was grateful for the alarming sound coming from the bathroom that forced him into action. 

Whether it was a bad idea, whether it was violating boundaries, didn’t matter. Zane found himself on the floor right alongside Chris, arms wrapping around the shaking frame, holding the man tightly despite his chest protesting. Maybe he was crying too or his face simply wet from where it got buried in Chris’s hair, maybe he held him and murmured comforting words for minutes or an hour. There was nothing to say and the only thing he could think of was to attempt to impart some feeling of safety on the bathroom floor of all places, going through every soothing gesture he could think of as long as Chris would let him. Not even thinking about the intimacy of stroking someone’s back, their hair, holding them to his chest, as long as it seemed to be helping just the tiniest bit. 

—

Chris didn’t have a lot of trust in people, but he wanted to trust Zane. He trusted his actions, for the most part. Nothing the other man did seemed to have a lick of ulterior motive, but his words, though reassuring as they were, didn’t seem to fit in with his lived experience and the paranoia and accusations that followed him tirelessly. He just couldn’t believe them, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how confident Zane seemed to be.

As he sat on the cold floor and heaved gasping, crying breaths into both palms, he didn’t hear the bathroom door open. He didn’t hear Zane creep in, either, didn’t even know he was there in the room with him until he felt hands on him. A spark of panic initially started, tensing Chris’ body from the sudden intrusion of personal space he didn’t see coming, but his shoulders relaxed the second he realized who it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he was held like that. It had to have been with his sister, surely, but that was towards the end of their time together. Had it really been that long?

Hesitantly and with shivering body, Chris leaned into the comfort that Zane was providing and welcomed the slight chill that came from his embrace. Consolation so tender helped to alleviate some of the hiccup-like sobbing that escaped him, but it couldn’t help the small bouts of embarrassment and self-pity that tried to get him to leave. So he tried to bury himself into Zane’s arms further, as if to try to shut off those parts of his spiraling thoughts. With some time and patient, steady compassion, his tearful weeping turned into small whimpers and dry eyes. “I’m sorry…” came his voice, small and breathless, and thick with tears that threatened to fall again.

—-

After a while, his chest stopped aching, overthrown by the dull pain in his heart. Zane’s journey into the supernatural hadn’t been a nice one and even though his clan at the time had been far from perfect, at least he’d had them. At least he’d gotten some insight into what he was now. Chris’s whole world had just come crashing down all at once. At the very least, Zane hoped this might be the start to some healing instead of breaking the man completely. 

“Me too,” Zane murmured back because telling Chris he didn’t need to be sorry would fall on deaf ears. The strange embrace would have lasted for as long as the shifter needed it if not for the knock on the door. Food. With one last gentle stroke through the drying curls, Zane disentangled himself and got to his feet. “Food will be in the kitchen. Just… come on out whenever you feel ready.” Offering a sad but soft smile, Zane left to go retrieve the food, waiting patiently in the kitchen. Wondering if there was anyone he knew who might be able to connect him to another werewolf or anyone who could guide Chris through this better than he ever could. 

[drfirsnogayny]

Crossover Halloween AU at Kindergarten and at Flower Color Gram AU

I position FCG Halloween as my AU because these are not official designs, unless everyone else decides to admit it. And I'm also not sure that I would have had time to draw it all before Halloween, so that's the only way. Maybe I'll do the full versions later.

(None of this is shipping. It's just duets and trios that have a similar role or species)

Halloween AU by @gabycantart @flower-color-gram

Adonis by @cloverstar-li, Alina by @onsennnnn

Abigal by @ketchupandpickles, Callum by @juststupid882

I decided to leave the version with Austin the Pirate, because otherwise Abigal would not have had a character in the duo.

Pixy by @bebebowie, Mike by @rainrayne

Chris by @cloverstar-li

Hop by @milgoooram

Ivy by @lammy-art

Byron by me

And bonuses:

Old version + Mike as a vampire

I wanted to make full-length versions, but then abandoned this idea in favor of what I had already done.

There is also an alternative version of Mike, especially considering that he is Felix and Ted's brother according to FCG canon

And another crossover

But, since the plot of Cleavers Cult runs simultaneously with the plot of BRev (after twenty years of Kindergarten events), I raised the age for Felix and Theodore.

[flower-color-gram]

The prisoner....

You will see them soon...

Starting 20/7/24

We will post every week, prepare..

Get ready!

[sturnsflirt]

004 ────── FRATBOY!CHRIS OPENING SONNY ANGELS WITH DOE!READER

WARNINGS: none that i know of ! pure fluff, swearing

you smile ear to ear, squealing lightly as you bounce into chris' room, in which he was sitting at his desk, airpods tucked snug into his ears, blasting rap music at full volume, drowning out any interruption or sound as he carefully placed pills into small baggies. you peer over, your chin lightly grazing his broad shoulder, making him jolt, his focus on you.

"what, m'doin' something." chris grumbles, clicking his tongue against his teeth, making your smile hinder, but you continue to stay chipper. "wanna open sonny angels with me?" you chirp, profusely tapping your manicured nails against the cardboard material of the box.

"already told'ya, fawn, those lil' dolls scare the shit outta me." chris says, shooting a scathing glare at the plastic doll, perched obliviously on the top of his shelves, which was very obviously snuck into his room by you.

"well, maybe you're like, a lucky charm, and you can get me a good one!" you spoke softly, your voice full of excitement, absentmindedly twirling one of your pigtails against your index finger. chris stayed quiet for a moment, eyeing you warily, before reluctantly nodding, exhaling heavily before plopping onto the edge of his bed next to you, watching your nails excitedly tear into the plastic wrap.

"you have like, a scary obsession with these dolls," chris remarks, but can't help but crack a small smile at seeing your blissful expression, before you uncrinkle the plastic where the toy was confined, tearing it open, only to gasp loudly, eliciting a jolt from chris.

"this is the one i wanted!" you squeal, holding up the dalmatian angel. "that's it? 20 bucks for that?" chris says, sighing as he chuckled dryly, clearly poking fun at your spending habits, but groans lightly when you land a light smack to his chest.

© sturnsflirt est. october '24 | my taglist

SWEETHEARTS: @oopsiedaisydeer @xoxochrissgf @ariieeesworld @courta13 @divinesturn

[sturniodoe]

introducing…

player!chris x sweetheart!reader

sweet talk. soft kisses. angst. sharing earphones. late night calls. sweet girlfriend x lapdog boyfriend. one milkshake with two straws. she fell first; he fell harder. pinky promises.

introducing sweetheart!reader

wired earphones. vanilla scented perfume. fashion design major. people pleaser. mints. junior in college. matcha. cinnamon rolls. blush. coconut scented shampoo. sonny angels. brooke davis. strawberries. coach purse. florals.

sweetheart met chris after he approached her about being in the wrong class. she always enjoyed physics and found it interesting, so when chris questioned her she had laughed it off and gave him a warm smile before explaining herself. after that she found it hard to stay away from him even after getting a warning from her friend who knew of his ways when it came to girls.

introducing player!chris

stubble. jokes. boxers. sweethearts baking. energy drinks. junior in college. gym weights. tequila shots. fratboy. nike tech. parties. going out. engineer major. sweatpants. douche. pepsi. weed. girls. sleep. late night drives. midnight snacks. baseball caps.

when chris first saw sweetheart he was interested to say the least; not only was she cute but she was a fashion design major in a physics class with mostly engineering students. this girl had to be lost. in the end to his surprise she was in fact not lost; explaining that she actually enjoyed physics and it ended up being one of her elective courses. from that day forward he would always sit next to her in class, and try to get her attention throughout the lesson making jokes just so he could see her smile.

taglist?

series

001. out of place

002. careful

003. per your request pt. 1

004. per your request pt. 2

texts.

001. call you later

002. how many likes

au pairing creds… @leisturni

[kiemiu]

──── DEAR, MATT & CHRIS STURNIOLO🍷𓂃 ⊹

𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆: fluff(🍎), angst(🕯️), comfort(🌱), suggestive themes(🧃), headcanons(🫖), drabbles(🍵), blurbs(💫), oneshots(🌹), scenarios(🍓), reactions(🍰), crackfics(👒), smau (☎️), imagine(🥡)

ᥫ᭡ ˖ ࣪ ‹ MATT & CHRIS STURNIOLO . . . 𖦆

001. TYPES OF KISSES YOUR BOYFRIEND WOULD GIVE YOU ┊352 (🍎,🍵)

drabble of kisses your boyfriend would give you. :)

002. WHEN THEY'RE JEALOUS ┊632 (🍎,🕯️,🌱,🥡)

imagines of chris and matt when they're jealous. </3

003. DOWN BAD TEXTS┊(👒,☎️)

down bad texts from chris and matt

ᥫ᭡ ˖ ࣪ ‹ MATT STURNIOLO . . . 𖦆

001. BF!MATT HEADCANONS ┊316 (🫖,🍎,🕯️,🌱)

short headcanons of what matt is like as your boyfriend.

002. PDA WITH BOYFRIEND!MATT┊540 (🫖,🍎)

matt's subtle and not so subtle public displays of affection as your boyfriend.

003. VOICE NOTES YOUR BF MATT LEAVES YOU┊348 ( 🍵,🍎)

endearing voice notes from your boyfriend matt.

004. BATMAN!MATT HAVING A CRUSH ON CIVILIAN!READER ┊1.4k ( 🍓,🍎, 🕯️,🫖)

how batman!matt deals with his romantic feelings for reader + pursues them.

005. VOICE NOTES YOUR BF MATT LEAVES YOU PT.2┊403 ( 🍵,🍎)

more endearing voice notes from your boyfriend matt.

006. MORE BF!MATT HEADCANONS ┊678 ( 🫖,🍎,🕯️,🌱)

more short headcanons of what matt is like as your boyfriend.

007. AN AVERAGE DAY W/ BF!MATT┊1.6k ( 🍵,🍎, )

a regular day with your boyfriend matt.

ᥫ᭡ ˖ ࣪ ‹ CHRIS STURNIOLO . . . 𖦆

001. BF!CHRIS HEADCANONS┊353 (🫖,🍎,🕯️,🌱)

short headcanons of what chris is like as your boyfriend

002. TEXTS FROM PLUG!CHRIS ┊(☎️, 🕯️, 🍎, 🌱)

texts from your dealer chris, who you're lowkey in a situationship with.

003. PDA WITH BOYFRIEND!CHRIS ┊518 (🫖,🍎)

chris's subtle and not so subtle public displays of affection as your boyfriend.

004. VOICE NOTES YOUR BF CHRIS LEAVES YOU ┊327 ( 🍵,🍎)

endearing voice notes from your boyfriend chris.

005. THINGS CHRIS DOES THAT MAKE YOU QUESTION YOUR FRIENDSHIP ┊725 ( 🫖,🍎,🍓)

moments and habits from chris that make you question if the title of best friends fits his and yours current relationship.

006. HAVING A SECRET RELATIONSHIP WITH CHRIS┊335 ( 🫖,🍎)

headcanons of being in secret relationship with chris.

007. DATING SKATER!CHRIS┊1.1k ( 🫖,🍎,🍓)

skater chris literally being the cutest patootie ever.

008. CHRIS DATING LAVISH HYPER FEMININE!READER ┊944 ( 🫖,🍎,🍓)

headcanons of chris dating a reader that's rich, lavish, hyper feminine, and a little bit of a brat.

009. MAKING OUT WITH CHRIS┊238 ( 🍵, 🧃)

010. MORE BF!CHRIS HEADCANONS ┊678 ( 🫖,🍎,🕯️🌱)

more short headcanons of what chris is like as your boyfriend.

011. VIDEOS BF!CHRIS SENDS YOU┊969 ( 🍵,🍎,👒)

[simplyiigiselle]

SMG4 x SQUID GAME 2

(Why did I do this)

I wanted to do some silly stuff and made a au of a show about the flaws of modern capitalism and add characters from a silly meme shitpost of a channel :D

(This is a lazily done concept, I might make more, btw don’t worry there are no spoilers)

I made everyone human mainly bc I can’t draw a fucking fish in a tracksuit (boopkins I’m looking at you.)

Also everyone in this au are adults, I’ll explain their info(I changed a lot into my own hcs if they were human)

(I am including people I didn’t draw)

——————

SMG4: Player 004, Lucas Lidwerchigual, Age 29

SMG3: Player 300, Jamie Esmeray, Age 27

Mario: Player 456, Mariano Mario, Age 32

Meggy: Player 012, Megan Spitzer, Age 24

Tari: Player 359, Tari Nova, Age 26

Luigi: Player 122, Luigi Mario, Age 32

Bob: Player 302, Bob Bobowski, Age 42

Boopkins: Player 238, Frank Boopkins, Age 19

Melony: Player 210, Melanie Suga, Age 25

Axol: Player 209, Axel Kobo, Age 26

Desti: Player 430, Destiny Harper, Age 23

SMG1: Player 011, Oscar Montez, Age 39

SMG2: Player 002, Trevor Gemini, Age 34

Saiko: Player 123, Saiko Itchitaru, Age 29

Kaizo: Player 124, Kaizo Koorihara, Age 28

Francis: Player 166, Francis Fron, Age 35

Box club leader: Player 301, Benjamin Vix, Age 29

Depresso: Player 290, Dexter Hag, Age 36

SMG0: Player 008, Zeke SweetHart, Age 40

Belle: Player 360, Belle Fontiere, Age 26

Whimpu: Player 321, Hinpu Mitsuda, Age 23

Rob: Player 203, Robert Corn |||, Age 37

Shroomy: Player 087, Enoki Shroom, Age 34

Hal: Player 102, Harold Moniter, Age 36

Niles: Player 100, Niles Hunter, Age 38

Fred: Player 005, Fredrick Collin, Age 41

Karen: Player 101, Karen Katphich, Age 38

Chris: Player 071, Chris Gordman, Age 45

Swag: Player 069, Swayn Markor, Age 44

Mr Puzzles: Player 001, “Winston Harlot”, Age 35

[gigiii1sblog]

KISS ME LIKE A SECRET 004

Warnings : mature content, cheating, fluff, sexual content, 2 year age gap, 18 & 20 and more

Chapter four: Can’t take it back now

Y/N:

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him — his hands on my thighs, his mouth crashing into mine, the heat of his breath whispering against my lips right before everything burned.

And it had burned. Hot and fast and way too bright.

Now the morning felt cold.

I stared at the ceiling of my room, limbs tangled in the sheets, stomach twisted in something between guilt and something worse: craving. I could still feel him — the phantom weight of his hands on my waist, the taste of weed and want on his tongue. It clung to me like smoke.

God.

I kissed Chris.

I let him touch me. I wanted him to.

And I had a boyfriend.

The thought made me curl into myself, fists bunching the blanket. I should’ve told Josh not to come for the summer but now I knew that even if I had, it wouldn’t have been about him. It wasn’t. It hadn’t been for weeks. Josh didn’t make my heart stutter like that. Didn’t make my head spin or my throat ache with things I couldn’t say.

Chris had.

Chris — who used to ignore me. Who used to ruffle my hair and call me kid in front of Nate.

Chris — who was now the one person I couldn’t be around without my body betraying me.

The morning light crept in under the curtain, too bright, too sharp.

I hated myself for what happened.

I hated how I didn’t want it to stop.

CHRIS:

I didn’t go back inside that night.

I just sat in the car long after she left. Her lip print was still smudged on my cheek. Her perfume still clung to my shirt.

Fuck.

What the hell did I do?

I knew better. She was Nate’s little sister. I was supposed to protect her, not get high with her. Not kiss her like I owned her. Not touch her like that.

But I did.

And I would’ve done more. I wanted to. I wanted her so bad it made me feel sick.

I dragged a hand through my hair and leaned my head against the steering wheel.

She’d kissed me back.

That was the worst part. It wasn’t one-sided. It wasn’t a mistake in the moment. She wanted it — me — just as badly.

And still, the second Nate’s name lit up her phone, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. And now we were stuck living in the same house, dancing around the same fire. I couldn’t even look at Nate right now. Couldn’t be in a room with him without thinking about how I’d had my hands all over his sister hours earlier.

How I still wanted her.

I hadn’t slept. My throat was raw from the joint. My chest tighter than ever.

And when I finally walked into the kitchen that morning, sleep-deprived, guilt-ridden, and pissed off, there she was.

Y/N.

Sitting at the counter like nothing happened, coffee mug cupped in both hands, dressed in one of those stupid soft T-shirts she always wore to bed. She didn’t even look at me.

And I hated that more than anything.

Y/N:

I felt him enter the kitchen before I saw him.

My body stiffened. The air shifted.

I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

Because if I did, I might remember how he kissed me like he needed it to breathe.

And how I kissed him like I forgot I belonged to someone else.

Nick glanced between us, eyes narrowing just slightly. He always noticed too much.

I sipped my coffee. “Josh texted. He’s not coming today.”

Chris said nothing.

Matt and Nate were laughing at something by the sink. The sound barely registered.

“You okay?” Nick asked me quietly.

I nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Chris leaned against the counter across from me, arms folded, jaw tight. He looked wrecked. Like he hadn’t slept. His eyes flicked to mine for a second then away.

God, this was torture.

I stood too fast. “I’m gonna shower.”

Nobody stopped me. But I could feel Chris’s stare burning into my back.

⸻

CHRIS

I didn’t sleep.

She didn’t speak.

We were back to being strangers.

But now I knew what her lips felt like.

Now I knew she wasn’t just Nate’s sister.

And no matter how hard I tried to forget…

I couldn’t.

Two Days Later:

Y/N:

I’d been avoiding him.

Two days of short answers. Dodging rooms. Slipping away just as he entered. Two days of pretending I didn’t feel the way his eyes stuck to me when I walked past. The way my chest got tight every time I heard his voice downstairs.

Because if I didn’t ignore him, I was afraid I’d do something.

Something I couldn’t take back.

I thought if I stayed quiet long enough, the fire would die down. But the silence only made it worse like oxygen fueling everything we weren’t saying.

So when I found myself alone in the driveway at midnight barefoot, hoodie zipped up to my chin, and the weight of the house finally off my chest it wasn’t a surprise that Chris was there too.

Leaning against his car.

Like he knew I’d come. hoodie sleeves pushed up, jaw sharp in the moonlight. Smoking like he didn’t care if it killed him.

Chris looked up the second I stepped off the porch. His gaze burned.

“You done ignoring me?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to.

My feet moved on their own across gravel, across the line we kept pretending didn’t exist until I stood in front of him, chest tight, fingers twitching at my sides. he looked at me like I was fire he wanted to touch anyway. Like he didn’t care how badly it might burn.

“I tried to forget that kiss,” I whispered.

Chris’s hand came up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I replayed it a thousand times.”

His fingers trailed down to my neck. My breath hitched.

“We shouldn’t—” I started, but the words died the second his mouth crashed into mine.

There was no hesitation.

No slowness.

Just hands and teeth and breath and months of restraint snapping in half like dry kindling.

His hands slid under my hoodie, palms scorching over bare skin. I tugged at his hoodie like I needed him out of it, needed to feel him, all of him. He let me. Let me pull it off and toss it to the gravel like it didn’t matter.

He kissed like he hated himself for wanting me.

And I kissed him like I hated myself for letting him.

His mouth moved to my jaw, then down my neck. I gasped as his hands found the waistband of my shorts, thumbs dragging beneath the elastic in a way that made me dizzy.

I yanked at his shirt. He pulled it off.

Our bodies pressed against the hood of his car, breathless, frantic. I felt the cold metal at my back, but I didn’t care. His hands were everywhere. My nails dragged down his chest.

He groaned. “Y/N.”

My shorts were halfway down my thighs when his forehead pressed to mine.

I froze.

He didn’t move either just held me there, breathing ragged, eyes closed tight like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, voice cracking.

He exhaled hard.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just know I don’t want to stop.”

“But we have to.”

His hands didn’t leave me. Neither did mine.

We just stood there—half-dressed, half-mad, fully broken.

“I- I have a boyfriend ,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said quietly.

I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Slowly, carefully, I stepped back. Pulled my shorts up. Tugged my hoodie down.

Chris didn’t say anything. He didn’t move either. Just stood there, shirtless, lips red and swollen from mine.

We didn’t touch again.

We didn’t speak.

I turned and walked back into the house like I wasn’t shaking.

Like my skin didn’t still burn where he touched me.

Like I hadn’t wanted to keep going.

CHRIS:

She walked away.

She actually fucking walked away.

And I didn’t stop her. I couldn’t.

My chest was still heaving, lips bruised from kissing her like I meant it which, fuck, maybe I did and I just stood there, watching the sway of her hoodie disappear through the door like the whole thing didn’t just happen.

Like I wasn’t still half-hard and completely wrecked over the fact that I almost had Nate’s little sister stripped on the hood of my car.

I dragged both hands through my hair and turned, gripping the edge of the hood like it might ground me. My heart was pounding in my throat, sweat cooling against my skin.

What the fuck was I doing?

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to happen.

Y/N was Nate’s little sister. The kid who used to trail behind us on family beach trips, always sunburned and stubborn, begging to be part of everything we did. I remembered her braces. Her oversized shirts. That stupid sparkly phone case she used to carry around like it was sacred.

I remembered laughing with Matt once, swearing she’d never grow out of being annoying.

But now?

Now she was eighteen and confident and mouthy and gorgeous. With long legs and a sharp tongue and a belly piercing that flashed when she stretched. And every time she walked into the room wearing something tight or talked back to me, it was like something short-circuited in my brain.

And tonight?

Tonight, I touched her like I owned her.

Ripped her shorts halfway down. Felt the hitch in her breath when I dragged my hands over her skin. Kissed her like I wanted to leave a mark.

And she let me.

Until she didn’t.

Until we both remembered what this actually was and who she was to me.

I stared at the gravel under my shoes, heart still racing, lips still tingling from where hers had been.

This shouldn’t be happening.

But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore: I wanted her. In a way I wasn’t supposed to. In a way that made my chest tighten and my hands ache and my head spin.

She had a boyfriend. She hated me most of the time. She’d spent two whole days ignoring me, like she was trying to prove to herself that I didn’t matter.

But then she touched me like she needed me.

And the second her hoodie slid up, revealing the soft curve of her hip and the waistband of her underwear, I completely lost my fucking mind.

I pressed my fingers to my lips. I could still feel her mouth there.

Still hear the way she whispered “we can’t” even though she didn’t pull away at first. Even though she kissed me back like she meant it. Like she’d been thinking about it just as much as I had.

And I didn’t even know what the hell that meant.

All I knew was that she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because now that I’d touched her like that seen her like that, I didn’t think I could go back.

Not without losing my mind.

Not without wanting more.

Later that Night:

Y/N:

Fifteen minutes ago, I was on the hood of his car, gasping into his mouth like he was the only thing keeping me alive.

Now I was walking beside him in silence my thighs sore, my lips swollen, my hands trembling in the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

Fifteen minutes ago, Chris had pushed my shorts halfway down my thighs, hands bruising my hips, eyes wild like he couldn’t believe what he was doing.

Like he couldn’t stop.

Until he did.

Until we both did.

It was too much. Too fast. And somehow, not enough.

Now everything felt different.

The house came into view again, lit up with warm yellow porch lights and laughter drifting from the windows. I could hear Josh’s voice somewhere inside. That made my stomach twist.

I swallowed hard and stopped walking.

Chris stopped too.

He looked at me, jaw clenched, still breathing like he hadn’t come down yet.

I couldn’t look at his mouth. Not again.

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

Chris exhaled, slow. Like he didn’t know how to answer that without setting everything on fire.

“Don’t ask me that right now,” he said, voice low and raw. “Not when I can still taste you.”

I flinched. “Don’t—”

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping in closer. “I can’t go in there and act like I wasn’t just about to—”

“Don’t say it,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “God, Chris. Just—don’t.” The silence burned.

I could feel how hot his skin still was. How badly we’d both wanted it. How badly I still did.

“You’re with Josh,” he finally said. But it didn’t sound like a reminder it sounded like a punishment.

“I know that.”

“Then why’d you let me touch you like that?”

“Why’d you do it?” I shot back, eyes shining now. “Why’d you kiss me in the first place? Why’d you act like I wasn’t just Nate’s little sister?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

We both knew the answer already:

Because something snapped.

Because he saw me differently now.

Because we were already too far gone.

CHRIS:

I couldn’t stop seeing her mouth. The way she whimpered my name on the hood of my car, legs around my waist, back arched like she needed me more than oxygen.

Fifteen fucking minutes ago.

And now we were walking back into the same house with her boyfriend inside, and I was supposed to sit across the room from her like my hands weren’t just on her bare skin.

Like I wasn’t shaking from how much I wanted her.

She stopped walking. Her arms wrapped tight around herself, like she was holding everything in. Trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“What are we doing?” she asked me.

I could’ve laughed. Instead, I looked at her.

God, she looked even better now. Flushed, frustrated, mascara a little smudged, hair messy from my hands in it.

“I can’t go back in there and pretend,” I told her honestly. “I can’t look at you and act like I didn’t almost—”

She cut me off. “Don’t say it.”

So I didn’t.

But I thought it. Felt it.

And I hated that it wasn’t enough. That I’d pulled away. That I’d had her and still didn’t.

I watched her swallow down whatever storm she was fighting in her chest.

“You’re with Josh,” I said, because I needed her to say it. To mean it.

But she just looked at me like it hurt.

And I hated myself for loving that.

Y/N:

By the time we made it back, my heart had barely slowed.

The porch was filled with voices and half-dressed bodies wrapped in towels. Nate was hauling a speaker toward the hot tub, Matt was handing out cans of beer, and Nick, always observant gave me a once-over that made me wonder if I looked as wrecked as I felt. I avoided Josh’s eyes.

I avoided Chris’s, too.

The heat in the air wasn’t just from the summer night anymore. It was in my veins, crawling under my skin. I grabbed a towel from the pile by the door, disappearing into the bathroom to change.

I peeled off my clothes slowly, wincing when I saw the faint red marks on my hips from Chris’s hands. The same hands I’d let touch me like I didn’t belong to anyone.

My bathing suit felt too small. Or maybe I just felt too exposed.

I could still feel the weight of him between my thighs.

I told myself to breathe.

By the time I came back out, Josh was already in the water, drink in hand, head leaned back like nothing in the world could touch him. Chris was sitting at the edge of the tub, legs dangling in, a beer between his knees.

His head snapped up the moment I stepped out.

Red bikini. No straps. Belly ring glinting in the low light. I saw the way his jaw tightened. How his fingers curled slightly around the bottle. He said nothing.

Good. Neither did I.

I climbed into the tub across from him and let the bubbles cover my thighs. Josh slid over and put a hand on my waist, kissing my cheek like he had any idea what I’d done with someone else fifteen minutes ago.

I tried not to flinch.

Chris was watching us. I knew it without looking.

Matt sat beside him, laughing about something Nate said, but Chris’s eyes were locked on mine. And when I finally looked back…

It was a war zone.

Something dangerous. Possessive. Quietly unraveling.

And I hated how much I liked it.

CHRIS:

I hadn’t touched my beer. Couldn’t.

Y/N walked out in that tiny red bikini, and my entire body went still. My mouth dried. My thoughts blacked out.

She looked like a fucking sin.

Every guy in the hot tub noticed her. Hell, even Matt’s eyes flicked up and down before looking away all red. But me? I didn’t even pretend to look somewhere else.

She didn’t glance at me. Not once. Slid into the tub like she hadn’t just been on my car, grinding down on me like I was hers.

And now she was letting Josh touch her.

My knuckles turned white on the bottle.

Her skin was glowing, wet, golden in the porch light. I could see the faintest marks I’d left on her hips and something ugly twisted in my stomach.

I wanted to touch her again.

Wanted to pull her to the side of the tub, sink my fingers under the water, and remind her who really got to make her breathless.

I looked away. I had to.

Matt was saying something about the beer being warm. Nate made a joke about adding ice to the hot tub. Everyone laughed.

Except me.

I caught Y/N’s gaze once just once and that was enough. Her eyes were wide, glassy from whatever she was drinking, but they burned. She blinked slow. Bit her lip like she was trying not to fall apart again.

I wanted to pull her under the water and kiss her until the bubbles stopped.

Instead, I stood up.

“I’m getting another beer,” I muttered to no one.

Her eyes followed me.

Y/N:

I didn’t follow him inside.

Instead, I turned around and climbed back into the hot tub.

The water hit my skin like fire. Or maybe it was the way Chris had looked at me before he left. My head was a mess my stomach, worse but I dropped into the corner seat across from Nate and slid next to Nick, trying to play it off like I hadn’t almost gone after the guy who just wrecked me against the hood of his car.

Nick leaned close, whispering, “You okay?”

I nodded. “Just hot.”

He raised a brow, but didn’t push it.

Across from me, Chris came back. New beer. Same tense jaw. But this time, he didn’t sit on the edge. He slid right into the water.

Next to me.

My heart stuttered.

I could feel his thigh brush mine. Could feel the ripple of the water shift around us.

He didn’t look at me. Not really. Just drank from his bottle, watching Matt and Nate argue over some dumb memory from last summer. But his hand?

It found my thigh beneath the surface.

And I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

CHRIS:

told myself to stay cool. To act normal.

I was good at faking things, pretending I didn’t care. That I didn’t notice the way she kept adjusting the bikini top that barely covered anything, or the way her eyes would flutter shut every time my knee bumped hers.

But this wasn’t pretend anymore.

I slid my hand under the bubbles, slow. Casual. Like I wasn’t losing my mind.

And when my fingers found her thigh again warm, soft, still trembling faintly—I felt her inhale sharp through her nose.

No one noticed.

Not Matt, who was too busy talking about the party tomorrow. Not Nate, who was scrolling through his phone, not even Josh who had gone inside for another drink.

Just me and her.

And the water.

I let my fingers trace small circles. Lazy. Just above her knee at first, then sliding higher. Her breath hitched. Her nails dug into the foam edge of the tub.

Still, she didn’t stop me.

She never did.

I brushed under the hem of her suit bottom. Just enough to remind her what fifteen minutes ago felt like.

Just enough to remind me.

She shifted, knees closing slightly, trapping my hand between her thighs.

That alone almost made me lose it.

She leaned over then—barely an inch—her lips brushing against my ear like she was whispering something innocent.

“I hate you,” she breathed.

I smirked, eyes still forward. “No you don’t.”

Her knee pressed into mine. Her foot slid against my calf under the water.

“No,” she said, “I really fucking do.”

But her thighs didn’t move.

And neither did my hand.

Y/N:

I’d closed my legs instinctively at first.

But now?

Now I opened them again.

Not wide. Just enough.

Just enough to tell him: I’m not stopping you.

And he got the message. His hand moved again confident, slow, deliberate. His fingers finding the softest part of my inner thigh under the water and staying there.

I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

Matt and Nate were on the other side of the tub, arguing over who drank the last seltzer. Nick was leaning against the edge, head tilted toward the stars.

And Chris?

Chris was lighting me on fire under the surface.

I clenched the edge of the tub, hard. My breath caught in my throat when his fingers traced higher. The jets of the jacuzzi masked the ripples of movement, the accidental-turned-intentional contact. But I felt every inch of it.

Every press. Every pause.

I shifted, not away but toward. My skin flushed so hot it made the water feel cold. And when his hand flexed slightly, pressing in a rhythm that made my hips twitch

I almost let a sound slip.

He leaned in closer, his lips near my ear.

“You’re not stopping me,” he murmured, barely audible under the laughter and splashing.

I didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

Because he was right.

I should’ve pushed his hand away the first time.

I should’ve left the hot tub.

I should’ve thought about Josh.

But all I could think about was him.

How he touched me like he owned me. Like he already knew the places to go, how to make my body sing without ever being seen. How reckless it felt to give him this here where anyone could turn their head and see. The way he rubbed circles with his fingers right on my clit

I let my legs drift open further.

Just enough to give him more.

I didn’t look at his face, but I felt the smug smile against my shoulder.

I hated it.

I needed it.

The water sloshed faintly when I shifted again, pretending to adjust my hair but really, I was letting him get closer. Letting him explore every inch of me, slow and aching.

I bit my lip, hard. My nails dug crescents into my palm under the water, when he started to tease my enternece with his two fingers.

He was just inches from-

“Anyone want more drinks?” Matt called out, breaking the tension like a snap of cold air.

Chris’s hand slid away. I nearly whimpered.

I stood quickly, shaky and flushed, grabbing my towel with trembling fingers.

“Gonna rinse off,” I muttered.

I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. I didn’t trust myself to.

Because I knew if I stayed another second, I’d beg for more.

And if I looked back at Chris?

I’d see the same wildfire in his eyes that was tearing through me now.

CHRIS:

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

No, that’s a lie. I knew exactly what I was doing.

I just didn’t know why it felt like life or death.

She let me touch her.

After all the ignoring. After the silence. After she told me to stop an hour ago in the car…

She let me in under the water, in plain sight, with Josh in the house and her brother across from us.

She didn’t push my hand away.

She let me tease her.

She opened her legs further.

She chose me.

And that? That broke something in me.

Because this wasn’t some hookup anymore. This wasn’t teasing. This was real. This was her melting against my fingers, biting her lip, and pretending to laugh at Nick’s joke while I pushed every single boundary we’d been pretending didn’t exist.

And when I whispered to her, when I said what we were both thinking—

She didn’t deny it.

She didn’t even flinch.

Just breathed harder. Stayed still.

And I gave her more.

Until Matt spoke. Until reality snapped back. Until she stood up like she couldn’t take it anymore.

I watched the water slide down her legs as she walked away, the towel clutched tight around her. Her back was rigid. Her skin flushed. Her silence loud.

She wanted it.

She hated that she did.

And me?

I was still underwater, hands burning, jaw clenched, needing to follow her. Needing to feel her again.

I just didn’t know if I wanted her out of lust or punishment anymore.

Y/N:

I didn’t go to the bathroom like I said I would.

I went upstairs. Straight into my room. Locked the door. Dropped my towel. My skin still tingled from the heat of the water or maybe from his touch. I didn’t know anymore.

I was trembling.

I leaned against the dresser, heart hammering, eyes locked on the reflection of my flushed skin in the mirror.

Why did I let him?

Why did I want him to do it again?

There was a knock. Quiet. Hesitant.

I already knew it was him.

I didn’t answer.

The doorknob turned. It was locked.

Another knock—then a pause—and his voice. Low. Controlled. Barely.

“Y/N,” he murmured. “Open the door.”

I didn’t move.

Another silence.

Then, louder: “Open the fucking door.”

My feet moved on their own.

The second I unlocked it, he pushed inside. His eyes were wild. His hair still damp. His chest rising like he ran up the stairs.

We just stared at each other.

The room was too quiet.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered.

“You let me,” he said, stepping closer.

“That doesn’t mean I—”

“You opened your legs for me.”

I flinched. His voice was sharp, brutal, but real. And so was mine when I hissed, “And you didn’t stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

I hated him. I hated him for asking. For knowing exactly how to hurt me. For making me want more.

“No,” I breathed, barely audible.

That was all it took.

He closed the distance and crashed his mouth into mine. There was no hesitation, no slow burn now. Just pure heat. His hands found my waist, gripped tight, dragging me to him until there was no space left between us. I clung to him like I’d break without it. Like I needed his mouth, his hands, the scrape of his teeth against my lip just to breathe.

He lifted me—effortless—and sat me on the edge of the dresser, bodies flush, skin damp and burning. My legs wrapped around his waist without thought. His hand dragged up the back of my thigh, making me gasp into his mouth.

My fingers tangled in his wet hair. His mouth trailed to my neck, my collarbone, the space just under my jaw that made my head fall back, eyes shut.

Everything was too much. Too good. Too wrong.

My breathing hitched when he pressed against me there, hard and unrelenting. I arched into him, hips grinding against his, and the sound that escaped his throat was almost inhuman.

“Fuck,” he muttered, teeth grazing my skin. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

I didn’t care.

I needed him.

I tugged at his shirt, dragging it up, nails raking against his chest. He growled when I bit his bottom lip, when I moaned against his mouth like I was already too far gone.

His hands slipped under the hem of my bikini bottoms, palms gripping my ass, pulling me tighter.

It would’ve happened.

I would’ve let him take everything.

But then—I paused.

Something cracked inside me. Just for a second.

Josh.

Nate.

My whole life before this moment.

I stilled in his arms. Breathless. Dizzy.

He felt it.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

“I—” My voice cracked. “I can’t.”

He didn’t move. Just held me there, heart pounding against mine.

I buried my face in his shoulder, shaking.

He didn’t pull away.

Didn’t speak.

Just stayed.

Because even he knew, if we went any further, there’d be no going back.

CHRIS:

She pulled away.

Her breath was still warm on my neck, and her thighs were still wrapped around my waist, but her body had gone still. And I knew.

She was backing out.

Again.

And this time… I couldn’t even blame her.

I didn’t let go of her right away. I just stood there, hands still on her hips, forehead resting against hers like I was praying she’d change her mind. That she’d kiss me again. That she’d forget Josh, forget Nate, forget everything but the way I made her feel.

But she didn’t.

She slid off the dresser slowly, eyes wide and lips swollen, avoiding my gaze like it burned.

“I need to shower,” she said, barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t just the water she wanted to rinse off. It was me.

I nodded, jaw tight.

I couldn’t say a damn thing without it sounding like a beg. Like a mistake. Like I was that kid again, watching her trail after Nate with her little notebook and wide eyes, always looking at me like I was someone she couldn’t touch. But now she had.

And I couldn’t forget it.

I left the room before I said something I’d regret. Before I kissed her again and made her hate herself for letting me.

Y/N:

The water was ice-cold.

I didn’t even care.

I stood under it like it could erase the bruises his mouth left on my collarbone. Like it could wipe away the ache between my legs. The ache of almost.

I was shaking—but not from the cold.

I should’ve stopped him sooner. I should’ve pushed him away when he first touched me under the water. Should’ve slapped him when he whispered in my ear like he already owned me.

But I didn’t.

Because I wanted it.

Because I let him.

And I would’ve let it go further if my heart hadn’t screamed at me at the last second.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to cry.

He’s not yours, I told myself.

He never was.

You were just Nate’s little sister. That’s all you ever were. Until one day, you got your belly pierced and you wore a black bikini and he looked at you like you were something to touch instead of protect. And now look where it got you.

I stepped out of the shower, dizzy. Like the walls were closing in.

And when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—hair wet, skin flushed, eyes glassy—I didn’t recognize the girl staring back.

She looked like someone who’d made a mistake.

Someone who couldn’t take it back.

CHRIS:

I couldn’t sit still.

I went out back, lit a blunt, and stared into the dark. The jacuzzi still bubbled across the yard like it hadn’t just witnessed a breakdown disguised as a hookup.

Matt came outside, but I didn’t say anything. Just passed him the joint and kept my eyes low.

He didn’t ask.

And I was glad because if he had, I might’ve told him the truth.

That I didn’t know who I was when she touched me like that.

That I felt like a criminal for craving someone who used to wear friendship bracelets and smelled like florar shampoo. That watching her grow up ruined me. That now I couldn’t stop imagining her on me, under me, saying my name like it belonged to her.

I didn’t want to want her.

But I fucking did.

And I didn’t know how to stop.

@izzylovesmatt @ansteeze @amiraisafreakokaysorry @pair-of-pantaloons @sturnslux3 @riggysworld @kitty-meow-meow44 @kalel2005

[strnilolover]

the time has come!! july of 2024 is when i joined tumblr and honestly it was the best decision i had ever made! i’ve met so many great people along the way and have lost some as well. but i’m so thankful for each and every one of you!

and what better way to celebrate than posting fics throughout the whole month of july?

there might not be a set schedule as to when i’ll post them, just because i do work monday to friday’s durning the week. but i hope you guys enjoy the things i will post! for now ill hopefully post every other day starting july 1st.

i will make a separate taglist for this! comment ✨ if you want to be added!

001 - dealer!chris x soft!reader - july 1st

002 - prince!matt x maid!reader - july 3rd

003 - vampire!matt x human!reader - july 5th

004 - paparazzi!matt x famous!reader - july 7th

005 - bully!chris x sensitive!reader - july 9th

006 - tomboy!reader x skater!chris - july 11th

007 - chratt x reader - july 13th

008 - dom!matt x sub!reader - july 15th

009 - dom!chris x sub!reader - july 17th

010 - chratt x reader - july 19th

011 - sub!matt x dom!reader - july 21st

012 - sub!chris x dom!reader - july 23rd

013 - matt x reader - july 25th

014 - chris x reader - july 27th

015 - soft!dom!matt x sub!reader - july 29th

016 - fwb!chris x fwb!reader - july 31st

i will be posting fics probably in between those days possibly too!! i will also try to post before july starts too! like the rest of my requests and fics/ideas that i keep edging everyone with haha

[drfirsnogayny]

Flower Color Gram Halloween, but updated

@flower-color-gram

Adonis: Fairy 🧚

Alina: Demon 👿

Hop: Vampire 🧛

Abigal: Pirate 🏴‍☠️

Callum: Zombie 🧟

Pixy: Dead Lady 🪦

Mike: Mummy ⚰️

Chris: Ghost 👻

Byron: Priest ✝️

Ivy: Werewolf 🐺

List of changes:

Adonis: The clothes have acquired an orange hue, the sleeves and collar have become sharp, the belt and the design of the boots have been changed

Alina: the horns, tail and skin turned green, the hooves disappeared, the tip of the tail became diamond-shaped. Accessories (hairpin, patches and bracelets) were returned, patches on horns were added, a pendant similar to a hairpin, gold jewelry on the arm, right horn and tail.

Hop: Hair coloring and beret have been restored, decorations in the form of maroon bats have been added to the beret, decoration on trousers has been added, gloves have been added.

Abigal: A daisy pattern has been added to the eye patch, the color of the vest is turquoise, the color of the scarf has been changed to green, and a skirt decoration has been added.

Callum: Skin color was changed to purple and pink, the patch on the eye was returned (I also replaced the closed eye with an empty socket, but I won't show it), the color of the trousers was changed to white and the color of the scratch

Pixy: Added a skull to the hat.

Mike: The color of the jewelry and bandages turned purple, an earring was added.

Chris: No change.

Byron: A broken halo has been added

Ivy: Finger lines and pockets on the vest have been added, the collar color has become white

[mattslolita]

psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( intro. )

in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.

ghostface!chris x black!fem oc

warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc

"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ��ˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

𝒁aria 𝑺imone as 𝑪harmaine 𝑰rie 𝑬vans

The Final Girl. I Did Something Bad.

𝑪hristopher 𝑺turniolo as 𝑯imself

The Boyfriend. Disturbia.

( everyone else as themselves! )

playlist :

( 001 ). psycho killer - talking heads

( 002 ). in my room - insane clown posse

( 003 ). all-american bitch - olivia rodrigo

( 004 ). pacify her - melanie martinez

( 005 ). all i wanted - paramore

( 006 ). favorite crime - olivia rodrigo

( 007 ). i did something bad - taylor swift

( 008 ). disturbia - rihanna

( 009 ). na na - trey songz

( 010 ). heaven - julia michaels

( 011 ). friends - chase atlantic

( 012 ). gasoline - halsey

( 013 ). starboy - the weeknd

( 014 ). tag, your it - melanie martinez

( 015 ). heads will roll - yeah yeah yeahs

( 016 ). heathens - twenty one pilots

( 017 ). daddy issues - the neighborhood

( 018 ). dollhouse - melanie martinez

( 019 ). doin time - lana del rey

( 020 ). kill bill - sza

( 021 ). criminal - britney spears

( 022 ). serial killer - lana del rey

( 023 ). mad hatter - melanie martinez

( 024 ). brutal - olivia rodrigo

( 025 ). pumped up kicks - foster the people

( 026 ). woo - rihanna

( 027 ). stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey

( 028 ). sippy cup - melanie martinez

( 029 ). smooth operator - sade

( 030 ). cake - melanie martinez

( 031 ). ready for it? - taylor swift

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱

💌 lil

this fic was on my burner wattpad acc but i missed her, so here she is for y'all to enjoy !😜 most chaps were pre-written, so expect pt. 1 soon😏

for my baes : @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @guccifrog @e1ias3 @mrssturnioloo @prettiest-poision @mattsivy ❤‍🩹

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[asukaindetroit]

DBH Prompt 004: DPD Helps With Android Salvage (Angst Ahead!)

[[TW: Canon-typical android gore and abuse. Do I even need to tag that in this fandom? This is literally Violence to Androids: The Game.]] I've seen a lot (and I mean a lot) of post-revolution stuff where Connor and Hank (or Nines and Reed, etc.) get deployed to investigate android homicides (androidicides?) and all a few weeks after the revolution, and now-androids-are-murder-victims and all, but I feel like we're collectively forgetting something: There's an entire hellscape salvage yard full of semi-functional androids just sitting in Detroit. Maybe more than one. Dead and dying androids who are being granted rights, who are need of immediate emergency aid. The civilian repair technicians have evacuated from the city… and regular EMS isn't going to be able to help. Which usually means the task gets funneled to police and fire services, and volunteer search & rescue. So, you got a whole bunch of emergency services workers who are either benched because Detroit is under martial law, or otherwise being voluntold/deployed to the scrapyard to help Connor's army of AP700s in an emergency triage/parts salvage operation to save as many of those androids as possible, seeing as they're now, like, actual citizens that need saving. Cue robo body horror, existential angst, DPD officers with anti-android sentiments (looking at you, Gavin) getting traumatized by the sheer volume of android gore (a million groaning, glitching, half-deactivated horror stories waiting to be cataloged, triaged, reassembled with the spare parts of their permanently lost brethren), humans tasked with sorting limbs into piles while androids scan bodies and processors for the possibility of reactivation and scramble to save as many as possible… nobody comes out of that emotionally well. You'd have to be a psychopath to not empathize with all the sad androids.

It's ugly, awful work. Chris is tormented over guilt for contributing to the pile a few days earlier. Gavin starts out being an ass because he's Gavin, but as the day wears on he has to admit there's Big Feelings happening. Tina is crying because she just found a YK model pleading for its human owner-parent to come back. Wilson (the one that Connor saved on the rooftop) is determined to help as many androids as he can since an android saved him when it didn't have to. He's trying to embody the boy from the starfish parable. Everyone is overwhelmed and tired and hurting and surrounded by dying androids people that days ago they would have tossed in a scrap heap themselves. Jericho sends over a news crew to document the salvage efforts and to try and drum up more volunteers, but they're also processing the bodies that were decommissioned in the camps for usable parts, too. AP700s are having emotional breakdowns because they've been deviated for like a day and now have to deal with all this, there's no one else available.

I mean, if you reclassify an android as a person with rights, you can't just ignore the giant screaming piles of bodies in the scrapyard. Right? Somebody's gotta do something about the mass casualty event that's casually chilling on the street corner.

[kiemiu]

──── STURNIOLO ROMANCE TROPE DUMP PT. 1 ˎˊ˗

synopsis this is honestly just a few cute romance ideas that i've thought of and would love to see implemented into some sturniolo fics :> these are completely free for taking just provide credit if you happen to get inspired! <3

001. 7 days | pathetic!chris sturniolo x brat!reader | the pursuit trope |

all chris wants is 7 days to prove to you that he can be the man for you. and if that means spending all the money on his card or embarrassing himself in the process, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to get you to fall in love with him.

002. unfortunate events | matt sturniolo x reader | soulmate trope |

you and matt can't seem to stay away from each other. always bumping into each other in the most unfortunate ways. accidentally spilling coffee on you before a job interview, him nearly running over you on one of your morning jogs, getting trapped in an elevator together, crashing into each other while riding bikes,, you think this is all just unlucky coincidences but what if he's actually seeking you out with the worst approach?

003. he's all that | outcast!chris sturniolo x popular!reader | makeover magic trope |

your biggest challenge yet relied in the form of chris sturniolo. obnoxious, loud, and a bit gross, he was everything you found icky about boys despite dating the biggest asshole on campus. with prom only being a few weeks away, will you be able to transform him into everyone's dream guy while simultaneously falling in love, or will you fail?

004. kiss me already! | student council!matt sturniolo x cheerleader!reader | grump x sunshine trope |

you, the pretty, popular, cheerleader suddenly interested in him—the nerdy, uptight, student council president? matt doesn't understand your sudden obsession with him, and frankly isn't very fond of it. yet, his constant disdain for you doesn't stop you from asking him out on dates and flirting with him, will his insecurities stop him from pursuing you, or will he finally fall into your charms?

005. love letter | jock!chris sturniolo x nerd!reader | secret admirer trope |

chris has a hard time expressing his feelings verbally, so he resorts to writing poetry. the depth of his work only increasing when he finds a muse. you're quiet, shy, always having your nose in a book, and completely in tune to your own world. nothing like him, yet he wants you so badly. afraid of his friends making fun of him, he decides to keep his poetry a secret, and his identity hidden from the heartfelt letters he leaves in your locker.

006. glass onion | matt sturniolo x reader | forced proximity trope |

the two of you, complete strangers to each other, decide to bind together after a series of tragic murders occur at the fancy resort you're both staying at. the killer is still at large, and could possibly be the man you're partnering up with...

007. secret potion | gryffindor!chris sturniolo x hufflepuff!reader | hogwarts au |

on the cusp of losing the girl he's hopelessly in love with, chris creates a love potion to lure you back into his arms.

008. somebody else | townie!matt x rich!reader | forbidden love trope |

his parents hate yours, and your parents hate his. growing up with a high profile lifestyle and always being in the public eye for one thing or the other, your parents had laid out very strict ground rules for you to follow. the main one being stay away from the sturniolo's. but you were never one to follow rules.

009. p power | playboy!chris sturniolo x playgirl!reader | enemies to lovers + fake dating trope |

chris has to convince his parents he's officially settled down to avoid being forced into a marriage with a woman he doesn't want. to keep playing the field and get his parents off of his case, he decides to make up a fake girlfriend. and who better to use as a scapegoat than one of his old hookups?

010. mine all mine | nerd!matt sturniolo x nerd!reader | friends to lovers trope |

it's obvious to anyone with two eyes that you and matt have feelings for each other, you're both just too shy to take it a step further. with the help from his friends, will he finally confess his feelings to you before it's too late, or will another guy swoop in and take you?

[eclipsethemagic]

25 days to Christmas mini-series

001: 10 days to Christmas |MYG||M|

| One day you get a random friend request from a guy you don't know, lives across the ocean, and can play the piano. But what happens when the person you have been talking to isn't in the pictures?

002: Just best friends? |Lee Felix|

| Felix loves being friends with you so much that he doesn't want to lose you.

003: Welcome home |Choi Soobin|

| Soobin has been gone for months, and just to think he wasn't coming home for Christmas. well, that is what he told you.

004: kiss me |JJK|

| You and Jungkook have been together for quite some time now, but you haven't made your relationship public. So what happens when he kisses you under the mistletoe.

005: Snowed in |KNJ| |M|

| Being roommates with Namjoon has always had its ups and downs, but being snowed in with him? well maybe it will be fun

006: Chrismas baby |Im Chang-kyun|

| Giving birth is one thing, but giving birth on Christmas when I.M isn't here is another.

007: My gift to you |Bang Chan| |M|

| Chris has everything he ever wanted, a wonderful career, and a beautiful girlfriend who he loves dearly, but he wants to give you more, his virginity and why not do it during the biggest time of the year?

[gigiii1sblog]

DORM-ROOM DEVIL 004

Warnings: mature content, fluff, sexual content, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sexual content.

Chapter four: ALTITUDE

Y/N POV:

Today was the party.

And I was going to make sure Chris saw me.

Not just glance. Not just smirk in passing like he always did with that lazy frat-boy charm, like he had a hundred girls in rotation and didn’t care if I was one of them or not. No. Tonight, he was going to watch me. And remember it.

I’d been his roommate for a week now. Seven days of brushing past each other in the kitchen, pretending not to look too long when the other was wearing small clothing or shirtless or half-asleep or bent over digging through a drawer. Seven days of tension thick enough to cut with a knife and no one acknowledging it.

But I wasn’t the type to sit still.

Not when I saw what he brought home last night after he asked me if I was coming to this party.

Some girl in a tiny top, giggling through the hallway, her lipgloss smudged and his hoodie half on her shoulders. I didn’t sleep. Not because I cared. But because I wanted to be the one he couldn’t brush off. The one who ruined all the others after her.

So yeah.

Tonight?

I pulled out the black mini dress.

The one that was all legs, cleavage, and a single slip away from scandal.

Strappy black heels. Winged liner. Glazed brown lip lined lips. Hair done to ruin people.

I didn’t knock on his bedroom door when I passed it on my way out. I didn’t say a word. But I knew he’d catch a glimpse from the corner of his bed where he was sprawled, phone in hand.

Let him wonder.

Let him follow.

By the time I got to the frat house, I was glowing with tequila, music, and attention. Every guy that looked my way made it obvious — but I didn’t stop for any of them. Not yet. Not until the dare started. Not until someone said:

“Y/N, give someone a lap dance.”

And I smiled.

Because they didn’t know they were playing my game.

I didn’t even hesitate. I walked straight toward the kitchen. Toward him.

Chris.

His jaw clenched when he saw me.

Black jeans. Hoodie half unzipped. Chain glinting under the light.

Eyes dark.

I stopped right in front of him and smirked.

“Hi, roomie,” I said sweetly.

“What,” he muttered, looking me up and down, “the fuck are you wearing?”

I grinned.

“You like it?”

He didn’t answer.

So I straddled his lap.

Gasps. Laughter. Cheering behind us.

But all I heard was the music:

“Altitude” by Montell Fish.

A slow burn beat. Heavy, intimate. Like temptation given sound.

I rolled my hips slow. Torturous. His hands gripped the edge of the counter behind him, refusing to touch me. His jaw locked. His breathing uneven.

My fingers trailed up the side of his neck. Over his chain. Down his chest.

“You can touch me,” I whispered in his ear. “Or are you scared?”

Chris didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But his eyes said everything.

When I ground down again — full contact, nothing held back — I felt him break beneath me. Just a little. Just enough.

“I should stop,” I whispered.

“Then why don’t you?” he rasped.

“Because I like the way you look at me when I don’t.”

CHRIS POV:

She was driving me insane.

Seven days of this.

Seven days of pretending she wasn’t crawling under my skin every time she wore those little shorts around the apartment. Every time she leaned over the sink brushing her teeth in a tank top that was see through. Every time she walked around like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

But tonight?

That black dress?

Game over.

The moment she walked through the party doors, I knew. She wasn’t dressed for fun. She was dressed for war. Hair glossy, lips shining with a tint of brown, that fucking dress clinging to her like a threat.

And when the dare came?

I already knew who she was walking toward.

She dropped into my lap like she owned me.

And maybe, for the length of that song, she did.

The way she moved? Calculated. That wasn’t a drunk girl grinding for attention. That was precision. A lap dance made of slow circles, teasing pressure, and eye contact that dared me to flinch.

My hands stayed glued to the counter, fists clenched.

If I touched her, I wasn’t letting go.

If I kissed her, I was going to ruin it.

If I spoke, I’d say something I couldn’t take back.

But she?

She was flawless.

Her perfume drowned me. Her lipgloss smudged when she leaned in. Her voice slid into my ear like sin.

“You don’t scare me,” she whispered, hips brushing mine again.

I couldn’t help it.

I tilted my head, just slightly, until my lips grazed the curve of her jaw.

“Maybe you should be scared of me.”

She laughed.

Dark and amused and entirely in control.

“Maybe you should be scared of me, Chris.”

And then she was gone.

Back into the party. Smirking like the devil. Like she hadn’t just set my blood on fire and walked away without a scratch.

Y/N POV:

I could still feel the way Chris’s thighs tensed under me.

The way his breath caught when I whispered in his ear.

The way his hands didn’t touch me—like if they did, he’d lose control and never get it back.

Good.

But I wasn’t finished yet.

Because the game wasn’t over.

So I walked away. Not far. Just far enough to make him watch.

I spotted Matt Sturniolo leaning against the far wall, red cup in hand, wearing that shy smile that never quite reached his eyes. The quiet one of the triplets. The polite one. The one who watched everything, and rarely said much.

Until I gave him a reason to.

“Matt,” I purred, stepping up beside him, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. “This party is so loud. You hate this kinda thing, don’t you?”

He blinked, a little stunned, but smiled back. “Not my scene, nah.”

“You also don’t like girls in short dresses grinding on your brother in front of everyone huh?” I teased, feigning innocence.

Matt choked on his drink.

“Jesus.”

“What?” I asked, leaning in so he could hear me over the music. “Too much?”

“Nah,” he said, voice low. “You’re just not what I expected.”

“Is anyone?” I smiled. “Wanna dance?”

His eyes flicked over to Chris—fast, barely noticeable, but I caught it.

Matt hesitated. Then nodded.

And I grabbed his hand and led him to the floor.

CHRIS POV:

She was doing it on purpose.

Y/N was dancing with Matt.

Not just dancing — full-body, close, smiling like she meant it, laughing like they were sharing some little secret.

I took a long drag from my blunt, eyes fixed on the way her black dress rode up her thighs when she moved. The way her fingers curled around Matt’s neck.

It wasn’t jealousy. It was principle.

She was my roommate. My problem. My war to lose.

And now she was dragging Matt into it?

Nah.

That was a move.

I watched Matt try to keep his hands respectful. Like he didn’t want to step on toes. But she leaned in anyway. Whispered something in his ear that made him freeze up.

“Yo,” Nick nudged me, “you good?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your jaw’s tight as fuck.”

“Shut up.”

I tossed the blunt. Grabbed a beer. Didn’t even taste it.

Because she turned around mid-dance and looked straight at me.

Eyes locked.

Lips parted in a smirk.

That look said: You want to stop me? Do it.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And fuck me, it was working.

Y/N POV:

Matt was sweet.

But he wasn’t the one I wanted.

Not really.

I let his hand rest on my hip as we moved to a slower song, but I kept my eyes over his shoulder—on Chris.

Chris, who was now glaring daggers into the side of his beer bottle. Chris, who looked like he wanted to rip me off the dance floor. Chris, who hadn’t said a word but looked like he was about to crack.

So I leaned in a little closer to Matt.

And for good measure?

I giggled.

I didn’t even hear what Matt said. I was too focused on the tension simmering across the room like a fuse waiting to be lit.

And sure enough…

It exploded.

CHRIS POV:

I didn’t remember crossing the floor.

One second I was leaning against the kitchen counter. The next I was behind them.

“You good?” I asked, real casual, real calm, staring directly at Matt over her shoulder.

Matt tensed. “Yeah, bro. Just dancing.”

Y/N turned around, smile sweet like sugar, eyes devilish.

“Didn’t know you cared, Chris,” she said, voice silk.

“I don’t,” I lied. “Just wouldn’t want my brother thinking he could catch something that already ran through the house.”

Matt flinched. Y/N’s smile dropped for half a second.

And then?

She stepped closer. Chest to mine. Breath hot against my cheek.

“You jealous, roomie?”

I didn’t blink. “You think you’re that important?”

“I know I am.”

Her voice was velvet. Her dress brushing my thigh like a sin.

“You don’t even know what I could do to you,” I muttered.

She leaned up, lips nearly at my ear.

“Then show me.”

And just like that, the fire turned to smoke.

She backed away. Swayed back to the crowd like she hadn’t just lit me up from the inside out.

And I stood there. Burning.

⸻

I needed to get out of that house before I did something stupid.

So I dipped outside, slipping past the crowd of drunk freshmen, grinding girls, and guys holding drinks too high like trophies. I didn’t say goodbye, didn’t tell Nick or Matt where I was going. I just needed air. Space.

And a smoke.

I pulled the half-used blunt from my hoodie pocket, fingers twitching with leftover adrenaline. Lit it. Inhaled. Let the burn slow me down.

But it didn’t help.

All I could see was her.

Y/N.

That black dress. That fucking dress. Thin straps clinging to her shoulders, that tiny slit showing way more leg than necessary. The way the fabric hugged her waist like it had been sewn onto her body. Her lipstick dark, a shade somewhere between cherry and brown. Her lashes like knives.

And her eyes?

They were fire.

And she was dancing with Matt.

My brother.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and that made it worse. Because she was playing me without ever touching me.

And fuck if I wasn’t letting her.

I heard the door open behind me, expected it to be Nick or some girl trying to get in my space.

It wasn’t.

It was her.

Y/N POV:

I found him outside. Hoodie on, cigarette glowing between his fingers. Head down. But I knew he heard me. He always did.

“You ran away,” I said, like it didn’t matter.

“I don’t run.”

“Right,” I said, leaning on the porch rail beside him. “You just leave when shit gets too hot.”

Chris exhaled smoke, slow and unbothered. But I noticed the way his jaw shifted.

“Didn’t know watching you crawl all over my brother counted as ‘shit getting hot,’” he muttered.

“Oh, now you care?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he took another drag and handed the blunt to me without looking. I took it, letting our fingers brush just long enough to feel something spark.

I inhaled. Deep.

And silence stretched between us. Not awkward—just thick. Heavy with all the things we weren’t saying.

“You didn’t like it,” I finally said.

He glanced at me. “You think I give a shit who you dance with?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

Another beat.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he said, tone low. “Flirting with Matt just to get to me.”

“You think you’re subtle? Watching me like you’re starving?”

His head snapped toward me then, blunt forgotten, lips parted like he had something to say.

But he didn’t say it.

So I did.

“Seven days,” I said. “It’s been seven days, Chris. And you still look at me like you want to ruin something.”

He laughed, bitter and breathy. “You think I haven’t already?”

“Try me.”

There was heat now. No music. No crowd. Just us, in the dark, with shadows cutting across the porch and tension curled in the air like smoke.

He leaned in. Not close enough to touch me, but close enough for me to want it.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “You walk around in that tiny little dress, acting like the world owes you something—”

“I never said it owed me anything,” I snapped, stepping closer. “But I take what I want.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing dancing with Matt?”

I tilted my head. “Maybe I just like attention.”

“Bullshit. You wanted me to see you.”

I smiled slowly. “Did it work?”

Chris moved so fast I barely saw it coming—his hand on the railing behind me, trapping me there, eyes locked on mine.

“You wanna play games, roomie?” he breathed, his voice scraping low against my nerves. “You don’t get to start fires you can’t put out.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just tilted my chin up and let my lips part, barely.

“Then burn with me.”

That moment? It nearly cracked.

He was close. Close enough to kiss me. Close enough to push me against the porch wall and do all the things he’d been thinking about since day one.

But Chris?

He backed away.

Took a step back like it hurt.

Then laughed, dark and under his breath.

“I’ve got someone waiting for me inside,” he said, tone cold. “Someone who doesn’t need to play games.”

And he turned around.

Walked back into the party.

Leaving me out there with a heartbeat in my throat and between my legs, the taste of his smoke still on my lips.

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