#because he was always there to join me in obsessing about bands

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i had a dream that i had one of showaddywaddy’s records in my collection somehow(i don’t actually but i want) and i was really happy about it and people were looking at it and talking about it with me in my garage even though i don’t keep them there (my records, not the people. i do not keep people anywhere, people are free to go where they choose)

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

[obsessedelusional]

Eddie ‘The Munch’ Munson

parings ✦ Eddie Munson x reader

summary ✦ Your best friend, Chrissy, confronts you wanting to know why you’ve been so distant. When you tell her it’s because you’ve been spending all your time under Eddie Munson she’s in shock, wanting to know everything. So you do exactly that, which leads to Chrissy reevaluating her relationship with Jason. Does her big mouth get you in trouble?

authors note ✦ thanks for all the love on my most recent post omg hope y’all enjoy this one too!! appreciate feedback and reblogs <3 my fav is Eddie being obsessed with eating the reader out expecting nothing in return so that’s where this came from lol

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

“I still can’t believe the reason you’ve been disappearing lately is because you’re too busy fucking Eddie Munson.” Chrissy laughs out loud which comes to an end quickly when you tell her shut up. You decided to come clean when she pulled you to side asking what was wrong and why you had been come so distant.

You two grew up together, you considered her family at this point. Chrissy and you were on total opposite sides of the social spectrum. You joined band and she became a cheerleader. That never stopped you two from being inseparable. At first you tried to hang out with her new friends but couldn’t handle it which she took no offense to. You found your own group of friends quickly but you two always found your ways back to each other. Most weekends spent at each others homes or hanging out together at the local mall. You felt like you could tell her anything and felt bad you have kept this a secret as long as you had.

“So how’d this happen?” Chrissy asks wanting to know all the details. But before you can respond the schools bell goes off signally that lunch is over. She groans annoyed, “You best believe I’ll be at your house tonight after practice and you’re going to tell me everything.” She pulls you into a hug before leaving you alone in the quiet hallway which quickly fills up with other students hurrying to their classrooms. Eddie walks by, catches you staring and shoots you a smile. You waste no time pulling out your phone to send him a text making your way to your next period.

You: my parents won’t be home tonight

Only a few moments pass before your phone dings, it’s Eddie.

Eddie: I have a drop off but as soon as I’m done I’ll be at yours

You: I’ll be waiting for you

—

You’re sat at home anticipating Eddie’s arrival. Periodically checking your phone waiting for any messages letting you know he’s on his way. Your parents would be out of town this weekend, leaving you home alone. No text from him but the music blaring out of a car stereo notifies you, he’s here. You waste no time running down stairs, to the front door to greet him. You open the door just as he’s about to knock.

“Come on, we have one hour until Chrissy’s coming over.” You grab his hand to lead him upstairs, straight to you bedroom. You push him towards your bed he stumbles backwards eventually landing on it.

“Only one hour! What ever shall we do?” He asks, putting on one of his accents, he pulls you in closer so your standing between his legs. You laugh before smashing your lips into his, he hoists you up so you can sit on his lap. His hands wander under the skirt your wearing. “No underwear?” You nod no in response, his hand grasps your ass softly before pulling away swiftly and smacking it hard enough to emit a noise out of you.

“I want to please you.” You pout, letting yourself unbutton his black skinny jeans.

“Won’t be necessary.” He lifts you up unexpectedly causing you to hold on tight before he lays you down so he could be on top. He starts peppering kisses down you neck, pulling at your t-shirt. You help him take it off, exposing your chest. “No bra either? You’re trying to kill me.” He says latching onto you nipple, sucking causing you to arch yourself forward. He let’s go and continues kissing down your body. Stopping at where you skirt starts lifting it up and using his strong hands to spread your legs. Your glistening cunt on full display for him. “One hour right?”

“Yeah,” You gulp nervously knowing what’s coming. Eddie loved nothing more then to spend an extended period of time between you legs making you finish over and over again. Half the time you’d have cum multiple times and he’d never once let you get him off. Telling you that causing you pleasure was more than enough for him.

“I wanna see how many time I can make you cum before our times up. Is that okay?” He asks, looking up from between your legs. You nod yes response but that’s not enough. “I need your words princess.”

“Yes.” Is all you can manage to get out and he doesn’t miss a beat, his tongue running up your opening landing on you clit. Your whimpers fill the silence in the room along with sounds of his fingers slipping between your folds. His middle finger enters your opening and curls it upward.

“More please.” You beg and he adds another finger, stretching you out. His tongue leaves your clit and is replaced by his other hand, running circles around your clit.

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg. So fucking needy.” His words just what you need to send you over the edge. Moans as loud as a yell leave your mouth. Eddie can feel your orgasm as your privates clench on his two fingers. He shuts you up by kissing you his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

—

You two lost track of time because before you knew it the moment is interrupted by the sound of pounding on front door, a female voice yelling for you. He pulls away from you so he can look out your bedroom window.

You rush throwing your clothes back on and finding your phone to find the time. It had been well over an hour at this point. You have several missed messages and a few missed calls from her. You shoot her a text saying you’ll be downstairs in a moment.

You look into the mirror on your vanity and quickly brush your hair and fix your makeup so it’s not as evident what she’s walking in on. In the mirror you notice Eddie sat on the bed readjusting his boner. Facing him you say, “I hate to kick you out so early but I promised her we’d hang and catch up. She’s was pretty upset because I’ve been preoccupied.”

“By what?”

“You.” He smiles and kisses you one last time before he has to go.

“Do you want me to climb out the window once you let her inside?” Eddie suggest, almost as if he’s had to do that before which makes you sad at the thought of that.

“Why would you do that?”

“In case you don’t want her to see me.”

“I don’t care if she sees you. She knows about you.”

“She does?” You nod, smile reassuringly letting know Eddie everything’s okay. Eddie follows you down stairs, watching as you open the door to let Chrissy in.

“What took you so long?” She groans annoyed throwing her backpack to the ground stopping in her tracks when she sees Eddie standing there. “Oh that’s what took you so long.” She narrows her eyes, looking between Eddie and you.

Uncomfortable by the situation Eddie excuses him self. “We’re still on for tomorrow right?” You ask before he walks out the front door.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” With that he’s gone, shutting the door behind him.

“Girl what the fuck was that?” She makes her way to your bedroom, you follow closely behind. Watching her as she sits on your bed. The bed where you just spent the last last hour being eaten out. You try to hard not to think about it. “Can’t believe you were to busy fucking Munson to let your best friend in.” She looks around your bedroom before terror strikes her, “In this bed too?” She shrieks getting up to move to the chair sat in the opposite corner.

You can’t help but laugh before apologizing, “Sorry we were—“

“Fucking.” She interrupts you.

You sigh excepting the fact that there’s no way to hide it, “Sort of.”

“Sort of? What does that mean?” She ask curiously, “and don’t spare any of the details please.”

“He was going down on me.” You admit. Figuring it was your turn to share the gory details of your sex life. Have been forced on multiple occasions to hear about Jason. The man you hated but knew if you tried to say anything it’d only push Chrissy away from you.

“Must be nice.” She says flatly, distracting herself by scrolling through her phone.

“Jason doesn’t go down on you?” You ask absolutely baffled.

“No he refuses.”

“Do you go down on him?” You ask and she nods yes, likes she’s to ashamed to say it out loud. “Girl what the fuck? Is there anything favorable about him?”

“Enough about me.” She laughs uncomfortably, “How is he in bed? How big is he?

Rolling your eyes annoyed you respond, “Amazing actually. He enjoys making me finish over and over again. Half the time I don’t even have to do anything which is shame because his uhh… is huge.”

“I didn’t think men like that actually existed.” She sighs.

“They’re out there. You’ve just been stuck on the same dick for years, expand you horizons Chrissy. Have you ever even had an orgasm?”

“Ya know they have a name for men like that?” She says completely disregarding your jab at Jason and the question you asked. Her lack of answer was your answer. “He’s a munch.”

“A munch?” You ask, you’ve never heard of it before.

“A man who gets off on performing oral. Doesn’t expect anything in return. Usually because he’s obsessed with the woman who’s receiving.” You laugh because that describes Eddie to a t.

“Sounds a bout right.” You smile.

“Instead of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson we should start calling him Eddie ‘The Munch’ Munson.” Chrissy says erupting in laughter at her own joke causing you to roll your eyes for the hundredth time since Chrissy showed up.

You two spend the next few hours catching up on town gossip and updating each other on your lives. The conversation somehow always ending back on the topic of Eddie. You didn’t mind though, it was nice finally being able to talk to someone about him. It’s getting pretty late so Chrissy decides to go home not before letting you know she’d be having a talk with Jason about how things needed to change.

—

The entirety of you weekend was spent in bed with Eddie. Waking up next to him was something you could get used to. You two would stay up supper late fucking and sleep in till the later afternoon. Sometimes being woken up in the middle of the night because Eddie couldn’t contain him self. His favorite image was you laying in bed in nothing more than underwear and oversized t-shirt. It all came an end Sunday afternoon when your mom notified you they were on your way home. Sadly you two separated making plans for Monday night at his place.

You were so exhausted from the weekend you slept through your alarm Monday morning. Waking up near noon, your parents already gone for the day. You’ve never gotten ready so fast in your life. Only time to brush your teeth and your hair before running out the door. When you arrive to school it’s lunch time, “Better late than never I guess.” You mutter your self as the lady at the front desk checks you in. Walking out the office you make your way to your locker, throwing stuff from your backpack inside.

“Where have you been?” Chrissy says as she approaches you, wearing her cheer uniform.

“I over slept.”

“So you haven’t heard anything?”

“Heard what?” You groan not in the mood for any drama right now.

“Before I tell you what happened please tell me you’re not gonna be mad at me.”

“What did you do?” Your mind racing at what Chrissy could of possibly done, shutting you locker so you can face her.

“Promise me.”

“Fine I promise I won’t be mad at you.”

“So it’s kinda your fault because you got into my head. All the talk about how good Eddie is in bed made me upset that Jason is the way he is. So after I left yours I went straight to his house and ripped into him.” She hesitates to finish her story so you tell her to skip to the part that would piss you off. “Well he wasn’t taking me seriously and I know how much he dislikes Eddie. So I told him I heard from a friend that Eddie is so good in bed, the best she’s ever had. Always going down on her.” Your eyes widen in horror, “He immediately assumed I meant one of the girls on the cheer squad. He was so mad I would even compare him with Eddie. So he went around telling his friends what I said.”

“Chrissy why would you tell him all that?”

“I’m not done yet.” Guilt spreads across her face.

“Oh my fucking god. What else could you possibly add?”

“Now all the girls on the squad are talking about Eddie and gushing over him. Talking about how who should be the one to find out if the rumors are true. I’m so so so so so sorry.” You can’t come up with a response trying to wrap your mind around all the information she just dumped on you. Out of your peripheral you can see Eddie headed you way, he looks upset.

“Please keep walking,” You mutter to yourself. Chrissy notices Eddie and apologizes again before running of leaving you alone. As you try to follow her your stopped by someone grabbing your wrist. You turn to face Eddie smile plastered on your face praying that he has no idea. Considering this is the first time he’s publicly approached you he must know.

“Care to explain why I’ve got three different cheerleaders in my DMs and Sinclair telling me that everyone on the basketball team was talking about my performance in bed?”

“Huh! That’s crazy.” You laugh awkwardly as Eddie backs you into lockers.

“Considering your the only one at this school I’ve slept with and your best friend is Chrissy Cunningham. It all leads back to you.” You quickly decide that coming clean is your only option.

“I shared details with Chrissy as you do with your closest friends.” He nods watching you attentively as you explain. He’s so much taller then you so you have to look up when you speak to him. Which doesn’t help your nerves at all, fluttering your long lashes at Eddie in the hopes that it’s enough to get you out of this situation.

“And?” Your presenting innocent didn’t work.

“Apparently Jason doesn’t go down on her. So when I told her how much you enjoy it she called you a munch.”

“A munch?” He questions, you ignore it and continue the story.

“She told Jason that he she do it because you do it and she thought because of how much he dislikes you it would make him want to do it. It didn’t. It only made him mad and he told everyone on the basketball team which obviously got passed onto the cheer squad. Now they’re all thirsting after you.” You sigh finishing your rambles.

“Could be a worst rumor going around.” He laughs, allowing you to relax knowing he’s not too upset.

“Yeah and now you can have any cheerleader you want.” You laugh back trying to make a joke of the whole situation.

“I don’t want any cheerleader.” He rejects your joke.

“Who do you want?” You grin, hoping his answer aligns with your hopes.

“Who do you think?” He playfully jokes.

“I dunno.”

“You.” He says and lowering himself to your level, can’t help yourself from blushing at how forward he’s being in such a public setting. His hand finding your face before giving you a sweet short kiss soothing any anger you had toward Chrissy for opening her big mouth. Pulling away he asks, “So are you going to explain what a munch is?” Embarrassed your hands cover your face. “Nah uh you’re gonna tell me.”

“It’s basically a man who enjoys eating pussy without getting anything in return.” You spit it out fast as humanly possible, hands still covering your face.

“Guess that makes me a munch,” he laughs, pulling your hands away from your face.

“She called you Eddie ‘The Munch’ Munson.” You can’t believe your sharing any of this.

“That’s munch better than the original version.” Eddie jokes, laughing at his own joke. When you don’t laugh he ask, “Don’t you get it? Munch instead of much?”

“Yes I understand,” You laugh burying your head into his chest, cheeks red from embarrassment. His arms wrap around you, resting his head on yours before giving the top of your head a kiss.

[sadesluvr]

Opposites Attract

You’re a self-obsessed sorority girl. He’s an enigmatic film freak. What more is there to say? (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

A/N: My first full Mickey fic! It’s loosely based off of my headcanons (linked HERE), but ofc it's not necessary to read first :) I LOVE him and this has been in the works for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! He is Ghostface in this, but it's only alluded to… 

Word count: 2.7K 

Tags: SMUT / Enemies to lovers / Oral sex, fem receiving / Flirting + Sexual tension / Safe sex! / Doggystyle / Spanking / Light choking + Asphyxiation / Allusions to murder / Relationship goals, kinda 

You and Mickey Altieri couldn’t have been more different. He was a ‘Tarantino obsessed film freak’ from a seemingly regular (if not a little shady) background with a small group of friends. You, on the other hand, were a peppy architecture student; one of the top girls in your sorority from a rich family with a lawyer father. 

In theory, nothing about the two of you should work - Mickey thought that ‘people like you’ were phoney and self-obsessed, whilst guys like Mickey were essentially ‘nothing but trouble’. Still, it didn’t stop the two of you from being ‘frenemies’, even to the point of culminating in a secret relationship.

Even though you absolutely despised each other, there was something intoxicating about how you’d bicker; how Mickey would roll his eyes and smirk whilst you would get frustrated and brush him off, annoyed yet giddy on how you got under each other's skin. 

This was one of those times. 

You’d smuggled Mickey into your room as the two of you were off to join your respective friends at a party. He claimed he ‘hated’ being around posters of boy bands and unnecessary anthropomorphic stuffed toys, but there was something in his intense, greedy stare as he watched you preen and accessorise that told you otherwise. Of course you knew he wanted you. You wanted him too, but you refused to give him anymore gratification outside of that one night —

“Pink is so not your colour,” he scoffed, shaking his head as you fixed your bolero.

“Unfortunately for you, Mickey, I don’t care about your opinion,” you said sweetly, and you could hear him mutter under his breath. You always loved to get the last word.

“I prefer the baby blue,” he continued. “It brings out the pearls,”

You shrugged him off, fixing the string of beads around your neck. Everyone in Windsor knew that pearls were your signature accessory; the fragile beads sat elegantly around the base of your neck year round, as if you were a regular Jackie-O. Mickey always teased you for wearing them (like he did with practically everything else), but he couldn’t deny how beautiful they looked on you. There was certainly something to be said in the contrast of you; the  ‘righteous, innocent’ being, just like your necklace signified, being with him, a guy with a deep, dark pastime. He wondered what the pretty jewels would look like covered in blood; not necessarily yours (at first), staining the priceless material for good so that they were forever soiled. Your daddy would probably flip.

Good. He hated lawyers.

“…Why do you need to wear pearls anyway?” Mickey said, his voice low as he got up from where he was sitting, stalking over to join you at your dresser. “This is a college mixer, not Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” he finished, eyes locked on yours through the mirror as he stood behind you, his hands placed firmly on your waist as his fingertips threatened to travel elsewhere, likely towards your ass. 

“Because they’re pretty,” you said quickly, gathering yourself as you pushed him off slightly, spinning to face him as you leaned against the surface. “Daddy got them for me on my sixteenth birthday. I love him…” you finished wistfully.

“You love the things he gives you,”

“No. I love him,” you insisted, rolling your eyes as you clipped in your earrings. “He’s a very hardworking man, putting freaks and freeloaders like you in jail,” you said pointedly.

Mickey scoffed.

“I’m a freak now, hm?” he mused, leaning over you. He was tall, and you could feel his breath on your neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. “Then why are you with me?”

“Obviously due to some kind of terrible head trauma,”

Mickey rolled his eyes for what felt like the billionth time that night, instead focusing his attention on your neck; his canines brushing against your collarbone as he nipped at you, his love bites turning into soft kisses. You fought your hardest not to fall apart under his touch as he pulled you into him, hands exploring your waist and thighs as you felt his hardening cock against your ass. His cologne; though likely nothing more than retail store bought, was intoxicating, and you forced yourself not to lose yourself into his touch. There was just something about him that was insatiable…

It certainly helped that he was a little dangerous.

Sighing, you pushed him off you to face him yet again, fixing your clothes as you flashed him a sultry look.

“How do I look?”

He paused, eyes raking you up and down.

“...Like a girl with a stick up her ass and a cock in her mou —“

“Don’t say that!” You cut him off, slapping his chest lightly before you picked up your bag.

“What?” He snorted. “That ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’ facade doesn’t fool me. You’re a slut,”

“I am not!”

“Are too,” he retorted, following you like a chihuahua. “Don’t you remember that night at the Halloween party? You were in that slutty little cat costume and you were very generous to me under the stairs —“

There was a distinct smugness in his voice, and it took you right back to the hazy-liquor induced moment; from the sloppy kiss that had united the two of you, to the cool metal of his belt on your hands as you undid his trousers, and the salty taste of his cum as he held your head to his base. A beautiful moment, yes, but one you’d agreed to never speak of again.

“And here you are hoping for round two,” you sighed sarcastically, pouting your lips and patting his cheeks affectionately. “Give it up Mickey, it’s never gonna happen,”

“Your call, Princess,” he shrugged, walking to your door and beginning to open it. “Just try not to go all ‘Single White Female’ on me when one of your little sorority sisters wants it more,”

You froze. You never considered yourself to be the stereotypical jealous girl, but as a spoiled only child you were definitely not used to sharing. Katie Lewman was one of the girls in your sorority who you knew had a definitive crush on Mickey, and had even gone as far as trying (and possibly succeeding) to hook up with him. You knew she couldn’t compare to you in the slightest, but Mickey was definitely a player and would sleep with someone if he pleased…Or to get under your skin. 

Mickey’s smirk was visible from the corner of your eye, and you slowly pushed the door back in, making sure it was locked.

You frowned.

“I hate you, you know that?”

Your lips were on each other’s in an instant, with Mickey pulling you in hungrily by your neck, barely giving you any time to breathe.

“I know…” he grumbled, voice broken as he came up for air. His gaze was focused intently on your lips, and his beautiful eyes made contact with your own, taking a moment to ogle your body.“ ‘Drives me crazy…”

Your hands found the sides of his slender waist, drawing him in closer so that you could feel his wanting cock against the thin material of your dress. Given that he wasn’t the typical ‘submissive’ guy, you were surprised when he teased you back, beginning to stumble back towards your bed.

Still kissing, you landed on top of him, and he wasted no time in assuming his position above you, hands pinned to either side of your body as he held your lower half in place with your own. He stopped and cocked his head at you, admiring the way your chest heaved and your eyes were wide. Apparently he could still surprise you.

Good to know.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as Mickey began to strip. It was undoubtedly a godly sight, but you hated the way he made your pussy ache and stomach flutter with the smallest of movements.

“Why do we keep doing this?” you whined, and he grinned, baring his teeth as he stalked over you, taking your jaw in between his hands as he angled your head to stare at him. 

You always looked so pretty beneath him.

“I like the chase,” he uttered, and you began to make out once again, this time with you peeling off your bolero, and hiking up your dress so that it sat by your knees, unsure of how exactly he was going to take you. Mickey was a natural freak, and was always down to experiment when it came to sex…It was one of the many reasons why you liked him.

“Keep the dress on,” he whispered in your ear, nudging you so that you lay flat on your stomach. “Get that pretty ass in the air…” he finished, leaving a love bite on your neck before he pulled away, rubbing his hands along the curve of your spine, teasing you with what was to come. 

SLAP! A red, stingy feeling ran through your lower half, legs peppering with goosebumps as the sensation settled in. Eyebrows furrowed, you gasped and turned to Mickey, who only gave you a shit-eating grin in response.

“Ass. Up.” 

“You assho—“

SLAP!

“Ass. Up.” He repeated simply, staring at you knowingly. Glaring, you hiked your ass up in the air and he assumed the position behind you, pulling the material up over your thighs to rest on your waist. The thin material of your panties left your hot, aching cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, a sensation that was soon replaced with Mickey’s tongue.

He had quite literally buried his face in your ass; hands spreading your asscheeks apart as he delved into your folds, tongue lapping eagerly at your folds as he explored your pussy. You gasped, beginning to moan as you bunched the bedsheets up in your fists, subtly trying to fuck his face back, causing him to stick his face deeper into you.

You could practically see his smile from behind.

“Little Miss Sorority likes having her pussy eaten, hm? What would a girl like you know about giving?” he sneered, spreading your right cheek further and massaging the skin in his hands as the other remained firmly in position. 

“S-Shut up —“ you whined, balancing yourself on one hand as you tried to pull him in, desperate for some release as he found your clit.

“Nuh-Uh, Princess,” he smirked, swatting your hand away. “You don’t get to touch me,”

You groaned and resumed your wringing of the sheets whilst Mickey revelled in your audible pleasure, adding to your stimulation as he stuck his middle and index finger inside you, beginning to move them in and out. Your juices coated him instantly, and he took a moment to lick them up, savouring the unique taste.

He had to have you.

Retracting his face from your privates, he smacked your ass again, admiring how it immediately warmed in his hands.

“…Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting your lips.

“Because I’m gonna fuck you,” he responded, taking out his cock and stroking it languidly. It was just how you remembered; peachy with a good five and a half inches in length. “This is real life, Princess, we don’t always get everything we want…” he admonished, beginning to line himself up with your entrance. His tip teased your cunt, head smearing dots of precum along your lips, threatening to penetrate.

As much as you needed it, you couldn’t let him win.

“Speaking of not getting what we want…You better wrap your shit up,”

Mickey pulled away and scoffed, his shoulders slumping in annoyance.

“Come on, Princess…” he said knowingly. “You know it doesn’t feel the same…”

You hummed in amusement, beginning to push down your skirt and gather yourself together when you heard Mickey groan, a weight slowly lifting off of the bed as he made his way over to your dresser.

“You are such a spoiled brat,”

“Then come over here and teach me a lesson,”

He slid the condom on in a quick motion and made his way back over to the bed, grabbing your neck as he kissed you, arching your back in the process. The pressure pushed the pearls of your necklace deeper into your skin, a telling reminder of who you were. Social hierarchy may have technically been dead, but the Romeo and Juliet romance would forever thrive.

With a spank of your ass, he wasted no time in entering you from behind, barely giving you time to adjust. As he began to move, you heard him mumble to himself, hands holding onto your hips as he focused on daggering you, your tight walls stretching perfectly over his cock. 

“What’d I say?” Mickey teased, another hand coming down on your ass as he watched your skin slap against his. “Doggystyle. Classic slutty position…What would Daddy think if he saw you now?”

“Fuck…” you whispered, grasping the edge of the bed as your legs tingled from the pressure and your back was being stretched out perfectly. Mickey always ran his mouth. Always. But he was so fucking good at it.

“M-Mick —-“

“That’s it, Princess. Say my name…I want the whole fucking house to hear—“ he growled, utterly feral at the way you moaned and whined for him, to the point of you being speechless. He ran his hands from the curve of your spine and up to the back of your neck, smirking to himself as he forced your face into the duvet, bringing your ass higher into the air.

His fingers played with your pearls, hooking them under his middle and index finger and tugging on them, causing the hard beads to press against your windpipe. He could’ve fucking choked you to death right there and then, and subsequently drowned himself in your screams and moans of pleasure and pain before indulging in your tight, wet cunt; burying himself to the hilt as he’d come. Sex with a condom just wasn’t the same. 

The skin of your ass bounced against his thighs, every bit of contact driving him to thrust deeper, wanting to hit the deepest parts of your core. He let go of your neck, snickering to himself as he heard you let out a desperate gasp for air, and began to rub your pussy as he fucked into you.

“ ‘Can’t believe you’re this wet for me,” he sneered. “Hm, if only you could see yourself!To think, this is one of the rare times I don’t have my cam…”

Your cunt clenched at the idea, and he let out a throaty chuckle. Mickey carried his camcorder everywhere; and the idea of immortalising your illicit affair on a tape filled with your sleazy, steamy antics was enough to send you over the edge. If it ever got out, you’d probably be kicked out of the sorority…Maybe even college. Whilst your father would certainly hate the infamy, there was no doubt Mickey would love them fame.

Mickey groaned as you came around his cock, your walls tightening as he began to reach his own release. Desperately wishing it were your raw pussy, he shot a healthy load of cum into the condom. His grip on your ass tightened as you teased him, grinding your hips against his pelvis so that his slowly softening cock revelled in the wet, spongy sensation.

After a few moments he pulled out of you, placing his hands on his thighs as he admired your aching, satisfied cunt. Smirking, he slapped your ass a final time before collapsing next to you, stroking your pearls and kissing you. This one was slightly different - sloppy, yet gentle. Affectionate, even.

“Whaddya say we stay in tonight, hm?” Mickey perked up, staring at your ceiling. “I’m not going to a party with this —“ he looked down at himself, “— On my dick. How about we rent a movie and get pizza…?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you turned to look at the brunette curiously, propping yourself up on your elbows. It wasn’t explicit, but you knew that this was Mickey’s way of asking you for a date - And to be fair it didn’t even bother you. You were the life of the party, it was likely that it’d be boring without you.

“Sure,” you smirked. “But I am so not paying!”

[love-bitesx]

hobie brown x photographer!reader

this is almost entirely self indulgent, because i’m a huge camera nerd, sorry everyone!

warnings: gets verryyy suggestive towards the end, that’s all, sorry folks :P

just thinking about hobie in love with a reader who's obsessed with cameras & photography. maybe you studied it at school/college, or freelance, or maybe just a bit of a camera nerd. bedroom shelves housing all types of cameras, cheap or expensive, film or digital, any and every type.

maybe reader isn't too confident in front of the lens, and hobie is just so goddamn photogenic, even when he doesn't mean to be. "wait, hobie, can you do that again?" whilst bringing the camera to your eye, waiting for hobie to move back into the position he'd been in on the couch, "lookin' pretty, love?" and you hum in response, "mhmm", the camera clicks.

polaroids of him in the back of your phone case, prints of you in his. he'd caught you off guard once, laying on top of him in your bed, slipping in and out of slumber as his large, calloused hand rubs circles along your spine. looking down at you through his eyelashes, a stream of light from the closed curtains fell across your face. reaching to a discarded film camera on your bedside table, he placed a kiss onto your forehead and snapped a picture. after you got it developed, he stole it from you, taping it to the front and center of his guitar, so he can see it whenever he played.

walking through the streets of london, you stopped and stared at the window of a vintage camera store with pure adoration in your eyes. "hobie! hobie, look, it's my dream camera." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and joined you, "is it, darlin'?" and you nodded, hands pressed against the glass, "well, we better get it then, huh?"

he'd constantly come home with pockets full of fresh film or new lenses that he'd nicked during the day. even if he didn't understand or share the same passion, he'd be your number one supporter, bending over backwards to help in anyway he can. swinging you to the highest buildings and nicest views to get a good shot, playing up to the camera whilst you shot him performing one evening at a local pub. he was your muse, and you his.

just the thought of him slowly nuzzling you out of your shell in front of the camera, because you couldn’t deny the photos he took of you were artistically excellent, and you had an eye for it all. you’re straddling his lap, innocently, and he’s laying with his head on your pillow. one of his hands is on your thigh, the other holding a cheap film camera to his eye.

“just pose for me, beautiful,” he’s showing his teeth as he smiles, “hobie, no—” you try and push the camera away, but he insists, “please?” and there’s a second you consider it, before refusing once again. within a second, his hand has come up to your chin, taking it between his fingers and running his thumb over your lips to shut you up. you melt to his touch instantly, and when he’s caught your eyes fluttering and smile forming, he snaps a picture. “perfect.”

he comes along to all your exhibitions. bringing his band mates, or pav, gwen, and miles, to see your photography hung up. as much as he hates money, and spending it, he always buys at least 8 copies, just to see the explosive smile on your face when you see someone’s bought your work.

his chin would sit on your shoulder, watching you work away at your laptop as you edit photos. he doesn’t understand any of it, but he loves to see you work. he kisses down your neck, shoulders, rubbing shapes into your hips and thighs as you edit away, mumbling a complaint anytime he tries distracting you, “concentrate, love, you got this,” he mutters as he begins to kiss you particularly low, in a particularly sweet spot, hands slipping below the desk, “doing so well, pretty.”

head over heels for this man

[aoi1dee]

Alexander (Alex) Morello :D

Ah yes here is my very handsome olnf MC

also...

HIP HIP HOORAYYY 101 FOLLOWERS tysm <3333

okay now here he is...

This is Alex in step 1 !! he is a very shy and fear filled kid. Basically anything can make him overthink and believe bad things are going to happen. He's been like this since he was just a little boy :(

His fears also causes his social anxiety. If someone looks at him the wrong way, he's already walking away as fast as he can with watery eyes because he believes that that person hates him. Because of this, he grew up having a hard time making friends + no one really wanted to be his friend. According to other kids, "he is super weird and too much to handle. I don't want him clinging onto me when he's scared"

No one (not even his own mama) knows why he is afraid of everything he doesn't even know himself. Alexander wishes that he could be able to do fun things like all the other kids and not have his brain tell him all of the things that could go wrong.

Though when he meets Qiu and Tamarack, something flips in him. Though he is still scared of doing anything, he is willing to get over those fears if either one of them wants him to do it. He wants to make his two new (and first) friends happy!

(here is the full body design)

moving onto step 2...

Thanks to his two besties (and crushes) Alex is finally able to do the stuff he always wanted to do! Like go skateboarding by himself or order himself food at a restaurant (even though it takes him a little bit) But sadly that doesn't mean that those thoughts are still there. They are.

Alexander and his Ma were finally able to put a name to why he feels like everything is out to get him.. Anxiety~ So all of those thoughts about "what if this happens" "or what if I do this" are still there but they don't affect him as much as they used to.

Because of this, Alex was able to find some things that he was into. He realized that he really loved films and wanted to make some himself! He has a current obsession with horror movies though. If you asked him how many times he has watched Scream he wouldn't be able to tell you. (because he is embarrassed about how many times he has watched it.) But he has also taken Bass guitar lessons! He carries his bass guitar around everywhere (even if he doesn't need it).

As he grew older though, certain things start to bother him. He is always comparing himself to others. While his two neighbors have perfectly clear skin, his face his covered in acne. The way he walks is weird, the way he talks his weird. Everything about him is weird according to his own mind. He's just never pleased with himself. Even after all of these years, the thoughts about wanting to be normal still torture him. Why does he have to have anxiety? Why does he still have trouble with talking to others?

All of those thoughts fly away as soon as he talks to Qiu and Tam. He still will do anything for them but those feelings when he was younger starting growing into actual teenage crushes. Every single thing that those two will do can make his face turn red. Both of them are just so pretty!

here is the full body drawing of alex...

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ah yes.. if you compared Alex when he is 18 to Alex when he was 10 there was an absolute clear difference between them.

As Alex grew even older and went through those high school years, he was finally diagnosed with an Anxiety Disorder and is taking meds for it!! Now that his anxiety is finally at bay he started to realize a couple of things.. Why should he care about what other people think? Why does he have to dress for other people? Why was he afraid to be himself?

Though it took a little bit, Alex started to actually find himself. He already knew that he wanted to go to school for film and that he liked to play bass. But! He finally got the strength to join a band as their lead singer and bass guitarist! Even though this band is only planning on staying in Golden Grove, Alex is super proud of himself that he is doing this anyways.

Because of Alex slowly growing to be more confident about himself, it started to be seen by other people too. Other people started to see how beautiful Alex really is and he started to see it to!

And something extra funny, his personality ended up being a copycat of his Ma's. After being total best friends with his Ma his entire life, he ended up becoming exactly like his Mama with the way he stands, the way he talks, just anything is exactly like his Ma. (Though he is still a little shy)

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

That's my MC!! If you made it this far tysm!! And I'm so sorry if it was difficult to read I was spilling all of this from my head to this post lol.

Byebye!!!

[fishcat480]

Go Timberwolves!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Plus size! cheerleader!reader

Description: You're a cheerleader and Elijah is in the stands. Your friend Jessica notices him first.

Warnings: none

____________________________________________________________

“Who is that?”

Jessica was looking over at the stands and toward a group of guys, all sitting next to each other. They looked hilariously out of place, all seemingly dressed for different events. The one with reddish hair and kiss-me lips was wearing a velvet jacket over a v-neck, three necklaces dangling over his heart. You’d seen him hanging around before, and recognized him as Rebekah’s brother Klaus. How many times had he been watching Caroline from the sidelines during a game or desperately offering to walk her to her car? Doubtful that Jessica didn’t know who that was, or that he was clearly obsessed with everyone’s favorite blonde.

Then there was the youngest of the three. He was dressed pretty normally for a high school football game in a t-shirt and jeans. He spoke animatedly to Klaus, who looked about as thrilled to listen as he would have been to get struck by lightning. His name was escaping your memory, but it was another K name, you were sure of it. Kyle! No…Kal?

All thoughts of K names were stripped from your thoughts the second your eyes landed on Jessica’s mystery man. 

His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. His features were angular, practically Grecian. He was wearing a suit, which was ridiculous because who wore a suit in Mystic Falls unless they were a realtor or attending a Lockwood party? Somehow, though, he pulled it off so perfectly that there was no question that he should be wearing it. 

Never had you been so struck by a stranger. His eyes scanned over the crowd, and across the field, before landing squarely on you.

You blushed and turned away, heart thundering in your chest.

Elena and Bonnie had followed Jessica’s gaze too, and gave each other knowing looks. You were friendly with Elena but not close. You and Bonnie had been good friends since middle school, though, so you felt no shame sidling up to her and joining her conversation.

“Info on Jessica’s mystery man?” you asked, spreading your legs as you sat next to Bonnie, beginning to stretch. She laughed and gave you a stern look. “He’s Klaus’ older brother. No mystery.”

You bent forward, stretching out your back and Bonnie followed suit. “Off limits?” you ask, trying to seem curious but not invested. 

“Yes.” she said quickly. Elena smacked Bonnie’s thigh. 

“Elijah is not off limits.” she said. “He’s actually the only one out of the three of them I’d say is pretty on…limits…”

Elijah....you tried the name out in your head. Yes, you decided, that was a good name.

You all giggled. “I mean, Klaus is just too in love with Caroline.” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near him.” 

You sat up and bent your neck to the side, eyeing the rest of the cheerleaders. “Hey, where is Caroline?”

“Tyler drama.” Bonnie said conspiratorially. She sat upright, finished with her stretching. “He’s leaving again.”

“Shit.” you said, finishing up yourself. “I don’t really know what she sees in him anyway. He’s always been kind of an asshole. And Klaus seems to really like her.”

“Well Klaus needs to earn her.” Elena said hastily, turning away slightly. You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but if Bonnie’s similarly agitated face was any indication, there was something going on that you weren’t in on. It wasn’t really any of your business anyway, you conceded, so you didn’t harp on it. Boy drama was so not your thing.

There was a fanfare suddenly, as the marching band began playing the introduction music for the Timberwolves. Rebekah stood and called you and the other cheerleaders into formation. 

Once the players began coming out, you’d go right into the classic Timberwolves fighting cheer. 

Just as the first player was making his entrance, a blonde head appeared next to you, startling you. It was as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

“Caroline!” you said, throwing a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She smiled nervously. “Did I?”

You just laughed and joined the rest of the girls in the Timberwolves fighting chant, shaking your pom-poms and kicking your legs up. 

The game didn’t start out super well for the Timberwolves, so you didn’t have a ton to do for awhile. You spoke to Caroline briefly about Tyler, but she didn’t want to say much, and she seemed genuinely upset about something. You weren’t close enough with her to give her emotional support, so you instead distracted her with a quick game of fuck, marry, kill between the three handsome Mikaelson boys. 

“Kill Kol, Marry Klaus, Fuck Elijah.” Caroline said confidently. Kol! That was his name.

She was speaking a bit loudly, like she wanted someone to hear her. Probably Jessica. 

You glanced up at the stands and noticed Klaus and Kol with their heads bent together. Elijah looked completely nonplussed. 

“What about you?” she asked. 

You glanced up at the brothers again. Elijah was looking in your direction now, almost as if he was listening to your conversation. He was probably just looking at the cheerleaders. He definitely wasn’t admiring you - you were the only girl on the squad who wore a uniform above a size large. 

Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about the idea of the three of them. Kol wasn’t really your type, so he was an easy kill. Klaus was gorgeous, to be sure, but something about Elijah was still singing through your veins after laying eyes on him that first time. 

“Kill Kol, fuck Klaus, marry Elijah.”

Caroline gave you a wicked smile. “Elijah, huh?”

You shrugged. “He’s incredibly good looking.”

“Poor Kol.” Caroline said, her lip pouting. 

“Rejection builds character.”

You glanced up again, and Elijah looked as if he might be laughing - Klaus too. Kol had his arms crossed against his chest. Weird….

Rebekah shrieked all of a sudden, breaking you out of your thoughts, as the Timberwolves finally scored, and the squad got on their feet to cheer. 

The game ended with a Timberwolves win which you were thankful for - every win meant half price burgers at the grill. You and a few other girls planned to go there after, and you grabbed your stuff from the locker room, hoping to get to your car and beat them there - you were not going to be the fat girl in a mini skirt sliding into a booth full of people. 

Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were all leaving together, huddled in conversation. 

“Half price burgers, ladies?” you asked, walking backwards in front of them. “A Timberwolves win is a win for all of us.” you joked, quoting your incredibly cringy gym coach.

The girls laughed, but shook their heads. 

“Homework.”

“Boy drama.”

“Tired.”

They’d all spoken at the same time, and you gave them all an incredulous look. “Ladies, I’m heartbroken. Next time if you’re going to break my heart, do it one at a time.”

You gave them a winning smile, and they returned it easily, thankful you hadn’t been upset.

“Next time I’m making you guys go!” you called, still walking backwards as you exited the hallway out of the locker room. You backed into the double doors leading to the parking lot and called a goodbye to them, turning around.

And slamming right into someone.

“Oh!” you cried, toppling towards the asphalt. The ground never came, though, because a pair of hands was holding you steady, and lifted you slowly upwards until you were staring Elijah Mikaelson in the face.

“My apologies.”he said, in a voice that hit that your ears and sent shivers straight to the apex of your thighs. Your jaw dropped, suddenly faced with his nearness. 

“Not at all!” you cried. “I wasn’t looking.” 

Not too far away stood Kol and Klaus. The former was watching you and Elijah, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Klaus, of course, had become distracted the moment Caroline had appeared. He was stalking towards her, and to your surprise, Caroline looked like she might be walking towards him too. Normally she brushed him off completely. 

You focused your attention back on Elijah. 

“Excellent job tonight.” he said, his eyes locked on yours. You felt flushed from the unbroken eye contact, but didn’t dare break it. 

“Thanks. It makes our job a bit easier when the team actually manages to score.”

He laughed, full and bright, and it made your heart soar to hear it. 

“I’m Y/N.” you said, introducing yourself. 

“Elijah. Mikaelson.”

“Nice to meet you Elijah.” 

You offered your hand and he took it firmly in yours, but rather than shake it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Ok, you were officially a puddle on the ground and people were going to have to step in you to get to their cars.

“Hi!” came a bubbly voice, and you glanced over seeing Jessica. Of course she was going to try and stake her claim. 

“I’m Jessica.” she said, sidling up next to you. “I saw you in the stands earlier. You’re a Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

Elijah nodded politely. “My reputation precedes me.”

Jessica smiled her flirty smile and pushed her chest out. “Rebekah and I are good friends. I make a point to know my friends’ families. It’s only good manners.”

You rolled your eyes involuntarily from behind Jessica, who had stepped into your space. When had she ever spent time with Rebekah outside of practice? She was clearly making her claim known, and you huffed, backing off. 

A guy like Elijah wouldn’t be interested in you, anyway. It would have been nice to at least been given a chance, though, before perfect little Jessica had to come in and do her thing. 

You sighed to yourself. That wasn’t nice. Jessica was your friend. It just sucked, sometimes, being the only bigger girl in a group of girls. Things were different for you. 

“Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” you said, and Jessica quickly told you not to wait up for her at the Grill. You smiled encouragingly at her, even though you would have rather eaten nails. Jessica did technically see Elijah first, though, so regardless, the rule of dibs was firmly in place. Elijah’s eyes met yours and he looked…disappointed? It was probably nothing. 

As you turned to go to your car, Matt Donovan brushed past you, walking fast. “Sorry, Y/N!” he called, power walking to his truck. You shook your head, laughing. You’d never seen Matt move that fast for anything, not even out on the field.

The other girls had made their way out now, and you caught up with them briefly to let them know you'd be going home instead of out. You weren't really in the mood for celebration any more. They gave you tight hugs and told you to call them in the morning, and you gave them all the finger just to get a laugh out of them.

Bonnie was leaning against her car when you made your way to yours. 

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, giving you a curious look.

“Why’d I do what?” you said, tossing your duffle into the backseat. 

“You just let Jessica take over. You were talking to Elijah first.”

“Yeah, but Jessica saw him first. Besides, I bumped into him. It’s not like we talked about anything profound.”

Bonnie sighed. “You wanted to talk to him though.”

You crossed your arms. “Yeah, so?”

“So!” she cried, placing her hands on your shoulders. “So you’re the funniest girl on the planet, and you're beautiful and talented and you deserve to be happy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true! You’re amazing.”

“I know, I just wanted you to say more.”

Bonnie shoved at you playfully. “See? Your wit is unmatched.”

“And you’re kind.” you said seriously. “And a really, really good friend.”

Bonnie looked down, her mouth quirked to the side. “Thank you.”

A laugh echoed from across the parking lot, and you stared at Caroline and Klaus standing by Caroline’s car. They were standing close together and laughing, and Klaus’ finger was twirled around a strand of Caroline’s hair.

You hit Bonnie in the shoulder and pointed. 

“Ummmmmm?” You gave her an incredulous look.

“I know!” Bonnie said, coming to lean against your car. “She said she broke up with Tyler. She said she’s done with wishy-washy.”

You smiled happily as the two continued flirting. “I’ve been dying for them to get together.”

“No, literally!” She threw her hands up in the air. “The tension was incredibly cuttable.”

You snorted. “Like, thick enough I think I’d need a chainsaw.”

Bonnie hid her giggle behind her hand. You watched Klaus and Caroline as Bonnie began asking you if you were still going to the grill.  You wished you had a guy to flirt with against your car.

“I’m kind of hungry all of a -”

Bonnie’s voice trailed off, and you tore your eyes away from the happy couple to stare at your friend. 

“Bon?”

Her eyes were trained behind you, a small smile on her lips. You followed her eyes, and there was Elijah. His nearness startled you, and you jumped a foot in the air.

“My apologies.” he said, amusement in his eyes. 

“We have got to stop meeting like that.” you responded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bonnie called, already on the other side of her car and hopping in the front seat. You gave her an incredulous look. 

“Traitor!” you called, as she began to pull out. She looked completely self righteous as she pulled out of the parking lot, Britney blasting on her speakers.

“Well..” you breathed, turning back to Elijah. “Twice in one night? To what do I owe my great fortune?”

He shrugged. “I have a thing for cheerleaders.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. But I saw you from the stands and wanted to get to know you better. So here I am.”

You couldn’t help the huge smile overtaking your face. Elijah Mikaelson wanted to get to know you? 

“What about Jessica?”

He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl. Not really my type.”

“And I am?”

He huffed. “Am I not making myself clear? Shall I fetch a plane and spell it out in the sky for you?”

I shook my head, faux serious. “It’s nighttime Elijah. I’d never be able to see that.”

He snorted - actually snorted. It was the most adorable thing you might have ever heard. 

“You’re a minx, and you know it. Now agree to go to dinner with me.”

“Half price burgers at the grill?”

He smiled wryly. “No, that won’t do. I’m a full price kind of guy. I need candles, roses, the whole chair pulling out thing. Carlo’s. Friday night. Eight o’ clock.”

Carlo’s was like, ridiculously nice. And expensive. “But that’s-”

“It’s what?” he challenged. “Because if you’re suggesting I can’t afford it…”

You shook your head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you can. But I can’t!”

Faster than you could even fathom, Elijah was backing you up into the side of your car, his hands locked on either side of you, face inches away from your own. His eyes were dark and bore into you, making your palms begin to sweat.

“I’m not in the habit of taking women out on dates and having them pay.” His breath fanned across your face. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you shivered. His presence was intoxicating. 

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked, and damn if that question didn’t excite you. You nodded, your breath hitching, and he leaned even closer to you for a moment before pushing himself away.

“Good!” he declared, and once he backed off, he took a moment to rake his gaze across your body. Your uniform did little for the imagination, and you were kind of thankful.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He called sweetly, shifting from domineering to polite so quick you had whiplash. You watched him go, a dopey smile on your face.

“Wait!” you called. “Do you want my phone number?”

He paused, then reached into his pocket for his phone. He typed for a moment, then locked the screen and placed it back in his pocket.

Your phone dinged.

Tell Bonnie I said thank you.

You smirked. Of course Bonnie had given him your number. You'd have to remember to get her a thank you gift.

As you started your car and got ready to go, movement from the car behind you caught your attention in your mirror. You struggled to see clearly what it was, but when you did, you were shocked.

There, in the pickup truck Rebekah Mikaelson had gifted him, was Matt Donovan making out with her brother Kol. 

You laughed all the way home, imagining the look on Rebekah’s face when she finds out.

[thisismeracing]

OUR BABY ANGIE | MS47

Pairing: mick schumacher x fem!reader (she/her)

Warnings: mentions of long-distance relationships; not proofread; tooth-rotting fluff.

Word count: 1k

A/n: This was written per this request. Nonny, I'm sorry for taking forever to answer you, honey! I hope you guys like it, let me know your thoughts 💜

my masterlist and my taglist * requests are open!

When you started dating Mick you knew half of your relationship would be long-distance, not only because of his racing weeks but also because you always found yourself super busy with school and work. As the saying goes, it takes two to tango, and well, didn't Mick decide he was the best dancer in the world?!

He did.

Mick Schumacher was not only the dancer figuratively speaking, but he also made sure the music would be there, and that the band would play as you two went.

It felt great to have him as a partner, to share the good and the bad of life and not be afraid of judgment. To Mick, it felt exactly the same, except although your relationship was, to some extent, new, he knew you were there to stay, or at least that he would make sure you stayed as long as possible because life after you made his heart squeeze in sadness. Everyone from his personal life loved you and loved your connection, his mom would ask about you, his sister always talked with you, and his friends would share how happier he seemed whenever you were around or the subject of a conversation,

And then there was Angie, Angie was obsessed with you, she would wiggle her tail excitedly every time she heard your name or your voice, and she went as far as stealing a pair of clothing of yours from Mick's closet to sleep with it in her little dog bed.

That was one of the reasons why Mick thought it would be a good idea to ask you to watch her during this racing week. You loved her and she loved you and he was well aware of how lonely you could get studying non-stop and getting home to an empty apartment. It was joining the useful to the pleasant, everyone would be happy.

When Mick asked if you were okay to stay with his dog for a week while he was away you were surprised and flattered because that meant he trusted you to watch over something he loved and cherish deeply. He trusted you with Angie, it is not the same as when someone lets you borrow a car or a bike, it was a dog.

His dog.

His precious dog.

It was Angie.

And you loved Angie so of course you loved the idea of having her around. When Mick left, after making sure to remind you of her diet, and the little habits you were still getting used to, Angie curled herself on your side and just chilled with one of her toys while you took notes to get ahead for an important class.

Things went smoothly during the week. She would make sure to stay around you, and sometimes it felt like she was watching you and not the other way around. You two would go for walks before you left to work and then when you got home from uni. You would eat together, her little bowl of dog food close to you while you were seating on the sofa or sometimes even on the ground beside her. Your bond just got stronger and you were starting to wish to have her around all the time. It was common to see her when Mick was around, but it wasn't the same as getting home to her or seeing her happy wiggle when you gave her a treat or let her run in the park.

When Mick got home you were laying on the sofa watching a movie after a stressful college day. Angie was laying right beside you, her little head resting on your belly while you scratched mindlessly behind her ears and ran your fingers through her soft fur.

You were almost sleeping when you heard the keys jiggling and the door opening. Angie was already at the door, tail excitedly wiggling for her best friend. Mick got in and dropped his luggage at the entrance before crouching down to pet and hug her.

It felt domestic whenever he decided to come straight to you from the airport instead of going to his own house. It felt like your home was his home, and you loved that. Having Angie around now only amplified the feeling.

"Hi, my angel!! I've missed you too!!" Mick scratched her ears while she tried to lick all over his face, "How was it staying with mommy this time? Did she you enough treats? Did she spoil you, Angie?"

You froze on your spot. Mick had just referred to you as Angie's mom. The mom of his dog to whom he was the dad. And you were the mom.

Your heart rate picked up and everything just combined: how much you missed him, how he was always the best boyfriend you've ever had, how he trusted you, and now, how he saw a future with you, how serious he was about it. You felt almost like crying.

"Hey, meine Liebe," you were so lost in your thoughts you did not see when Mick approached you. A huge grin on his face.

"Hi, babe," you managed to answer while getting up to hug him close to you. His arms circled your waist and smashed your bodies together.

"I've missed you so much," he breathes, distancing himself just enough to find your lips with his in a passionate and longing kiss.

"I've missed you too," you whispered, hands on his shoulders for support.

Mick didn't miss a beat before laying both of you on the couch, your body propped on top of his, his hands imprinting themselves around you.

"Did you refer to me as Angie's mom?" you blurted anxiously after some minutes of silence, too many feelings to be kept inside.

Mick studied your face for a beat, his fingers caressing your jaw and chin, "I-I did, I'm sorry if it-"

"No, no need to be sorry. I'm Angie's mom, she's my baby," you happily exclaimed and Mick chuckled.

"She's our baby," he corrected pecking your lips.

"I love you," it was a whisper, but he was watching your lips and he saw the exact second it scaped between them.

"I love you," he repeated and you kissed him one more time before making space for Angie to cuddle you two on the couch.

You couldn't be happier.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits

[ashwhowrites]

Can I request an angst to fluff Eddie story where Eddie is an oblivious little golden retriever and his girlfriend hates/loves that about him? He starts dealing to Chrissy who then starts hanging around more, starts changing her style to be more like Eddie and also his girlfriend, breaks up with Jason, and then suddenly is everywhere. Eventually the reader loses it in front of everyone when Chrissy goes a little far with her flirting and Eddie tells the reader she's being dramatic. To him that's his girl, his soul mate and he even plans on proposing after graduation. He doesn't even think of other girls. The reader is hurt he dismissed her in front of everyone and feels like he chose Chrissy, and Chrissy thinks she won because Eddie chose her. Then the next day Eddie doesn't pick up the reader for school like he usually does, instead he shows up late with Chrissy in his passenger seat. The final offense though? Is when Chrissy sees the reader looking and grabs Eddie and kisses him. Now Eddie realizes his girlfriend fears were very valid and now he's not sure if he can fix this, but he will move heaven and earth for just a shot at forgiveness.

(This got super long, and I really didn't mean for it to 😂 you can totally cut it down or change whatever you want. I don't really care I just really enjoy your angst to fluff.)

Yes, you may ask for a request!

Thank you so much for requesting and enjoying my work :)

And details are always helpful! If this is not what you wanted, let me know so I can rewrite it. ( Alternative ending in master-list - still ends with her going back so fair warning)

Master-list

Y/N has been smitten with Eddie since she met him in her sophomore year. He was confident, charming, funny, and so hot. It was very easy for them to become friends as they had a lot in common. They enjoyed the same bands and laughed at how many of the same shirts they had. They have an equal number of records all over their rooms. Both have a hidden stash of weed in their drawers. It was like they were meant for each other.

Eddie was obsessed the second she walked up to him. Her Metalicia shirt was cropped, and small bleach stains were scattered. He smiled, knowing he had one just like it in his closet. But when he started to get to know her, he was so dead. He thinks he already loves her since the first day. and just kept falling. when she asked to join DnD and was somehow better than he was. He knew he was going to marry her.

~~

During Y/N's junior year, she spent the whole time trying to make moves on Eddie. She cringed at how obvious her schoolgirl crush was, but he either wasn't getting the hint or did not like her.

Every morning when he picked her up, she had a big smile on her lips and a touch on his knee (that got higher each day): "Wow, Eddie, those jeans frame your thighs so well." She even fucking winked. He smiled and drove on, like she had not said a word.

Then, when they went to the pool, she did not bother to hide her staring. "Eds, your tattoos are always so fucking hot to see when you are on full display." She even trailed her fingers over the design. And nothing. He blushed and basically walked away.

She decided to bite the bullet and ask him on a date. If he said no, then at least she knew where he stood.

When Eddie saw Y/N walking up to him with purpose in her eyes, he had no idea what to think.

"Okay, Eds, I have the house to myself this weekend; want to rent some movies and hang out?" She twirled a piece of her hair with her finger. batted her eyelashes as she looked up at him. A smile lit up his face. "Of course, I'll go tell the group." Before she could correct him, he took off.

She signed, "I meant just us."

~~

"So Y/N has the house to herself, so movie night at her place." Eddie announced as he walked into the video store.

"She never asked me." Robin protested, and Steve agreed.

"Well, maybe she just thought I'd tell you." Eddie shrugged. 

"Well, did she tell you to ask us?" Steve said, "She always asks us."

"Well, no, but I just figured." He shrugged again. What is with the questions?

"Dude, you are telling me Y/N told you she has the house to herself, invites you for a movie night, and you think she wants us there?" Robin pipped me with an eye roll.

"Dude, she was so hitting on you." Steve smacked him on the shoulder.

"No, she is just friendly; she does not like me." Eddie responded back, but Robin was quick with an answer.

"Eddie, she does not flirt with anyone but you."

~~

When he showed up at her house that night, alone, she was confused.

"I thought you asked the group?"

"someone told me the intention was for this to be a date?" He asked with a shy smile pointed towards her.

"Yeah, but I get it. You make it quite clear you do not like me."

"Why would you say that?" He asked confusedly; he loved her.

"I flirt with you, and you ignore me. I ask you on a date, and you ask the group. It's okay, though. We can just be best friends."

"You never flirted with me." He was even more confused.

"Eddie, when a girl is touching your knee, complimenting everything you wear, winking at you, touching your chest, batting her eyelashes, and twirling her hair, you know she's into you."

That night she finally kissed him, and he finally understood the feelings were mutual.

~~

Now that it is senior year for the couple, they are more in love than ever.

Y/N was a bit more on the tough side, and Eddie was soft. She hated new people, but Eddie wanted to welcome everyone with open arms.

Being with Eddie meant watching people take advantage of his kindness. He is quite oblivious to the intentions of people around him. I mean, it took him two years to see she liked him. She loved and hated that about him.

And right now, the hating side has been flicked on.

Chrissy Cunnignham has been following her boyfriend around like a lap dog. It started with a deal. And Y/N thought that was the end of it, but she kept showing up.

 Eddie and Y/N snuck out to the parking lot to each take their lunch together in the back of the van. They sat in comfortable silence when a voice cut in,

"OMG, Eddie! "There you are; I have been looking for you." Y/N rolled her eyes at the high pitched voice. Eddie smiled at the girl, and Y/N hated the jab that landed in her gut.

"Just having lunch with my girl, what's up?" She smiled at the fact that he reminded her that he, in fact, does have a girlfriend. Because Chrissy likes to forget that piece of information.

"Huge party this weekend; I want to invite you," Chrissy said to Eddie and Eddie only. Her eyes never drifted from his brown ones.

Eddie looked over to Y/n with a question in his eyes.

"Baby, want date night at a party?" She did not want to spend her night with Eddie at a party, but if he wanted to go, she would suck it up. She gave him a nod.

"We will be there."

~~

After the little run in with Chrissy at lunch, Y/N felt a tad bit sour. She knows Eddie is hers, and Eddie only wants her, but that insecurity was settling in.

She shook it off and headed to Hellfire. She and Eddie are now partners in leading the campaigns. Her seat was always next to Eddie, so a huge scowl landed on her face when she saw a familiar ponytail sitting next to Eddie in her seat.

"Chrissy, welcome, but that is my seat." Y/N said it as nicely as she could.

"Oh well, I would prefer to sit next to Eddie." She giggled as she looked at Eddie.

Eddie was once again oblivious to Chrissy's disinterest in their relationship.

"Well, I do not care; I would prefer to sit in my own seat with my boyfriend." She did not care to be polite now.

The group was walking in behind them but stopped at the tension in the room.

"Well, if Eddie wants me to move, then I will move." Chrissy bit back, and she crossed her arms.

One thing about Eddie is that he does not like to say no to people, and he does not like to hurt people's feelings, except apparently his girlfriends'.

"Baby, don't be so dramatic; it's just a seat. The spare chair is in the closet." Eddie smiled softly, truly believing he could easily fix the situation. Chrissy cheered.

The boys gasped at his response. Dusitn went to say something, but Y/N gave him a look. With the biggest breath she could manage, she grabbed the chair and placed it next to Gareth. Her boyfriend could fuck off.

Eddie frowned in her direction, but his attention quickly returned to Chrissy when she asked questions about the campaign.

~

Y/N rolled her eyes every time Chrissy would cheer on Eddie.

"Look, if you want to cheer so goddamn bad, why not go to practice?" Y/N snapped. Dustin tried to hide his laugh.

"Babe, no need to be rude. She is having fun; if you are going to sit there and be mean, you should just go." Y/N felt steam coming out of her ears. Did he seriously just tell her to go home?

She bit back her response and clenched the dice in her hand. It was going to be a long night.

~~

It got even worse. The news that Chrissy dumped Jason traveled fast.

Y/N had her theories of why this breakup happened so suddenly, but Eddie, of course, just wanted to help.

"Chrissy You deserve so much better. You will find someone perfect for you. I know it."

Y/N felt like her eyes never stopped rolling. She shot a glare at the back of Eddie's head as he hugged Chrissy.

~~

It was the night of the party, and the couple was heading to the front door.

"We shouldn't have come. All she wants to do is flirt with you and act like you don't have a girlfriend."

"She knows we are together, and she is not flirting. She just wants a friend so be nice," Eddie warned as Chrissy opened the door with a smile and only pointed to Eddie.

Y/N felt her blood boil when Chrissy laced her hand into Eddie's and yanked him out of Y/N's grasp, dragging him into the house. Eddie's head turned quickly to his girlfriend, "Babe." He said it with a smile as he used his free hand to reach for her.

 Y/N was very close to either killing Chrissy or Eddie. She understood that Eddie had no idea what was going on. He doesn't know Chrissy has been flirting with him for days. But she wanted to scream at him for being so stupid.

~~

She was dancing with Eddie, finally having fun since Chrissy got occupied with hosting. Her hands were in his hair, their hips grinding into each other, and matching smiles took over their faces. They were lost in each other, making out in the middle of the floor. This is what she missed about Eddie—being with him in this way. He has been so busy with Chrissy that she feels like she's been pushed to the back burner.

"Can we talk?" She asked loudly into his ear. He pulled away, worried, and walked her out to the backyard.

They stood on the grass and passed a joint back and forth.

"I don't want to be that girlfriend that controls you or picks who you are friends with. But this thing with Chrissy needs to either be talked about or stopped. I am not comfortable with how she flirts with you, how she touches you, and how she always needs your attention."

"Babe, I told you there was nothing going on." He sighed

"I do not care if there is nothing going on; it is the fact that she is trying to make something happen, and you will not shut it down. I know you think everyone is just being friendly, but I am your girlfriend, and if I am telling you that I feel our relationship is being neglected, you should be working this out with me, not trying to tell me I'm making shit up. I bite my tongue a lot, but the times that it splits, you turn on me. You tell me to leave it alone and go home. Do you know how embarrassing that is? and seeing her smug smile because she's winning."

Y/N noticed her friend Robin making her way out to the yard with Steve following behind. Robin could easily sense the tension, and she knew Chrissy had been a pain in Y/N's ass, so she could imagine what was going on.

"She is not winning! There is no fight or competition. You are my girlfriend, not her. So I don't see why we are having to talk about this. Why would I want to even try with her when I have you? Just get over this insecurity and jealousy so we can move on from it."

Robin, Steve, and Y/N's mouths dropped. Chrissy once again popped up with a big smile.

"I'm feeling some tension here; maybe we should take a breather." Chrissy offered adviced as she put her hand on Eddie's back. That's when Y/N snapped.

"Get your fucking hands off of my boyfriend!" Eddie was quick to jump in front of Chrissy as Y/N marched towards her.

"Seriously, you need to calm down. You are embarrassing yourself and me."

Y/N felt every piece of anger leave, filled with hurt. It was like Eddie wasn't even himself. He was replaced with the shell.

"I pour my heart out to you. I tell you why I am upset with everything going on. And you first told me I was insecure and jealous, and now you are fucking protecting her? Are you saying I'm embarrassing you? What's embarrassing is how she chases you around. how she dumped her boyfriend just to try to snag you. She's fucking wearing a Metallica shirt, Eddie! with fucking black boots. I have almost the same outfit in my closet. She wants you! Why can't you fucking see that?"

Eddie honestly did not know what to say.

"Let's take you home." Robin said as she grabbed Y/N's hand.

Y/N was hurt, but he didn't bother to say anything, didn't bother to stop her, and never bothered to follow her to Robin's car.

He just stayed; he stayed with her.

~~

Y/N took the time away from Eddie to breathe. She needed some space. So she waited until Monday to talk to him when he picked her up.

The only problem was that he never showed up. She begged Steve for a ride, and he said yes without hesitation.

She was relieved to see she made it on time. But her breath of relief hitched when she saw his van pull up with her in the passenger seat. She watched as they climbed out. Eddie looked like he was in the middle of a huge rant, then Chrissy's eyes caught hers.

If looks could kill, they would have murdered each other.

Y/N started to walk towards them, intent on calling them out, but she froze in her spot at Chrissy's next action.

~~

"Okay, I think we need to take some space away from each other because if it makes my girlfriend uncomfortable, I need to respect that." Eddie explained as he pulled up into the parking lot and getting out of his van. He tried to call his girlfriend last night to tell her he was going to give Chrissy a ride to talk some things over, but she never answered.

"Eddie I don't get it. You had a fight, and she left, and you stayed with me. You obviously just showed her that you picked me. Respecting her wishes is all out the window now." Chrissy said as she peered over at her. an idea forming in her head. This was her chance to end their relationship once and for all.

Eddie went to protest when he felt her lips crash onto his. His eyes flew as wide as they could. He cringed at the feeling of sticky gloss coating his lips. He went to pull away, but her hand grabbed the back of his head to shove him closer. When he finally got himself free, he had no idea what had just happened. He was telling her they couldn't be friends, and she kissed him? That's when he noticed it; Chrissy was twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes, and he felt her touch in his chest.

"Oh fuck, you are flirting. Look I'm in love with Y/N so this will never happen" He stated as he pulled himself away. He messed up. His girlfriend told him over and over, and she was right. Chrissy didn't respect his relationship with Y/N. And he allowed himself to disrespect it in the same way.

He was quick to head towards the school, but that's when his eyes caught his favorite ones. She stood there, unmoving. Tears flowed down her face, her hand tightly holding her backpack strap. His heart dropped. She saw it. She saw her kiss him.

He went to move, but she was faster; she ran off into the building.

"BABY, WAIT!" he screamed as he ran after her. He followed her into the girls' bathroom; he didn't care.

She was sobbing into her hands on the floor. His heart shattered. He was quick to kneel in front of her. He grabbed her hands away from her face and wiped off her tears.

"Baby, I promise, I didn't kiss her. I didn't know she was going to do that. I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. You told me over and over, and I just chose not to believe you. It's just that I'm so goddamn in love with you that I don't even notice anyone else. I didn't notice her flirting because half the time I don't even notice her. I'm thinking about you. I'm sorry I called you insecure and jealous. You aren't; you were upset, and I should have made you feel better. "I promise with everything in me that I only want you, and I only want you for the rest of my life." He didn't notice that he began to cry too. He was so scared that he'd messed this up so badly that she'd leave.

"Please don't leave me, baby. I need you. Please don't," he was sobbing into her now. His face was tucked into her neck.

"I'm not going to leave you, baby." "I love you too," she said, kissing his cheek. She knew he understood his mistake now. And she also knew he was going to fix everything he cracked.

He pulled away with a sniffle. Red, puffy eyes met each other's on the bathroom floor. He leaned in for a kiss, but she pushed him back.

"Not until you get that 30¢ gloss off of you," she teased. He took it as seriously as he should have. and began to scrub the hell out of his lips. After about three washes, he went to her with a smile.

"Now?" He asked, and she nodded.

Their lips met in a needy kiss. Every once of love and passion was sent to one another.

 

As the couple walked out of the bathroom, they were definitely late for class now. Eddie spoke up.

"Just so you know, I'm marrying you."

~~~~~

Tags- @bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson

@sage-the-z0mbie

[justallihere]

Hi there! Welcome - I'm Alli (she/her). I like concerts, books, and science. My favorite color is pink and my favorite band is Fall Out Boy. At this time I'm writing fics for The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) series, but someday in the future I might expand that list. Thanks for joining the chaos!

Most of you probably know me from AO3 by the same username. Below you can find my entire masterlist of fics as well as some frequently asked questions. If there's something you'd like to know that isn't addressed below, my ask box is always open 🫶🏻

✨ masterlist:

storm in the quiet (E)

Xaden/Violet, arranged marriage AU, > 200k words, ongoing

It took only a few minutes for Violet to figure out what purpose she served. No one said it out loud—not yet, but they’d get there—but they kept throwing out words like formalizing alliances and uniting two groups, and she understood. Violet was a sacrificial lamb, and Xaden Riorson was the wolf, and her slaughter would be their marriage.

(find sitq deleted moments here, here, here, and here)

all resistance wearing thin (E)

Imogen/Garrick, one shot set in the sitq world, 7.3k words, complete

It was a dangerous thing to be alone with Imogen Cardulo.

simmer (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The night that Tairn began channeling to Violet, she didn’t stumble upon Xaden in the snow. She found someone else to take care of her, and when Xaden realized, he was less than amused.

violence in my veins (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The Riders’ Quadrant had something of an obsession with piercings. The only person Violet Sorrengail knew without any was, of course, Xaden Riorson. Or so she thought.

invisible in a violet sea (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 2k words, complete

“It’s just me here, love. Tell me what you need so badly, Violence.” There was something about the way he said the private nickname in this context, with his voice low and husky, that made it feel entirely different from every other time he called her that. Like it was reverent and special and it, like her, belonged only to him. “You,” she said. “I need you, Xaden.”

void of all composure (E)

Liam/Violet/Cam, one shot, 2.8k words, complete

Liam Mairi figured it couldn’t be that hard to keep Violet Sorrengail out of trouble. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the fact that her version of trouble was Cam Tauri, and Liam was certainly going to go down with her.

somehow i still love you more (G)

Xaden/Violet, kid fic, one shot, 800 words, complete

Xaden’s favorite time was the middle of the night, when his wife slept peacefully and he got to hold his daughter and watch the snow falling.

come together, come apart (E)

Liam/Violet/Xaden, one shot, 12.4k words, complete

Following the battle at Resson, Violet felt out of control in the wake of so many lies revealed. Xaden and Liam offered her a way to take some of it back.

✨FAQs:

Do you have an update schedule?

Nope. Fanfic is a hobby for me—I have other responsibilities and a full-time job. I write because it’s fun, and in order for it to stay that way I write and post as I’m able, and sometimes I step away for a week or two to maintain my own sanity. Unless I specifically say it, I promise my fics aren’t abandoned just because it’s been a few days or even weeks without a new chapter. Please don’t ask me about updates!

Do you take requests for fics?

I do not. I write things that I love or am inspired by. Trying to conform to specific requests kind of sucks the joy out of writing for me.

Can I write or draw something inspired by/based on/in the same universe as one of your fics?

Yes. Please just let me know once you post and link back to my work in some way!

Can I bind your fics?

Yes, for personal use only. You may not commission any third party that would make a profit off binding the fic to do the work for you. You may not sell bound copies of my fics. Everything I’ve written has been done for free, as my own personal love letter from me to fandom. Keep fanfiction safe and legal. And send me pictures—I’d love to see your finished projects.

Will you ever write your own book?

I'd love to one day! I have lots of ideas floating around at all times, even though I don't talk about them much. I promise if I ever publish any original works, you'll know.

How long will storm in the quiet be?

Right now I’m estimating about 55-60 chapters—that’s just a best guess, if it changes as we get closer to the end, I’ll update this answer.

Will storm in the quiet have a sequel?

Nope.

Are you going to kill Liam?

No. I promise. I know you’re all traumatized, but please read the tags on AO3. There’s one that says “Liam lives!” and it means he lives all the way to the end and it’s not a joke 😅

When will Xaden and Violet fuck?

Read and find out. I’m not going to give you the chapter number to skip ahead past all the good stuff. Be patient.

✨ other info:

Find some of my favorite book recs here

Some great Fourth Wing fic recs here (my own faves and a lot of other good ones that I missed in the comments)

If you’re interested in what I might be currently reading, click here

[arabriddler]

Finally sharing my ventriloquist ! ( thank you @plainiack-arts for the Arnold talk it encouraged me to finish this up)

anyways, I like both Peyton and Arnold so I thought, well, we can have both no one’s stoping us.

Peyton was the eldest siblings with three younger siblings. Her father had left many years ago and her mom took care of them, or, was supposed to, but because of a demanding job her mom was usually very very busy, and Peyton loved her and wanted to help out by taking care of her siblings and the house and everything, even if it meant she’d secretly drop off school and pretend she was accepted for a scholarship that paid off school. This is where Scarface started to show up. He came as a voice from the little sock puppet she made to entertain her siblings. ( He’s called Scarface because the sock had a hole in it ). Scarface was smart and taught Peyton how to lie. Scarface’s influence grew with Peyton and her skills with making puppets. Scarface wanted a better body and to be a ‘real man’. So Peyton developed him and kept building him better. Except the more she listened about him the more he became real in a way. Peyton was the perfect daughter and the perfect eldest sister. Her siblings loved her and trusted her, and she always encouraged them to make a nice life for themselves. Peyton had to sacrifice a lot for them, but she didn’t mind because she loved them. Scarface though was angry. He thought if he was to be tied up with someone it shouldn’t be someone as Weak and pathetic as Peyton. He’s torment her at night and sometimes he’d break her siblings’ toys and rip their homework out of frustration. Her siblings were upset even when Peyton would explain it wasn’t her it was Scarface. They started to distance themselves and Scarface grew stronger. One day, he laid a hand on her sibling, and Peyton throw Scarface away ( only to pick him up again, an obsession ).

her siblings eventually listened to her, to take care of themselves, and they left one by one. One went to college, one joined a band, and the last just slipped away, he was just 14. Peyton was proud that they’d cut her off and be better, but Scarface was furious and just very very angry. He cut her face once to prove that she’s not better than him. This war between them kept growing until Scarface killed Peyton’s mom so Peyton could just grow up, and Peyton picked up the gun and killed him. Then, she called the GCPD to report her mom’s murder, except they ended up detaining her and taking her to Arkham!

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I've been reflecting recently on why I love Bad Batch SOOOO much (no, seriously, I've been obsessed since the show first started airing and my obsession isn't fading anytime soon) while also still having some issues with the finale. And I think it's because the story reminds me so much of my own family. (Note: my ramblings in this post do get personal.)

I loved Clone Force 99 from the moment they were introduced in The Clone Wars. A band of clone misfits who are instantly recognized as different but also are close to each other and work together seamlessly with plenty of banter? Give me more! The amazingly resilient Echo is brought back and of course joins them? YES!!! So when it was announced that the Bad Batch would be getting their own show, I was thrilled! Yay for more crazy sibling shenanigans!

And then season 1 happened, with the squad almost immediately fracturing amidst all the changes occurring with the rise of the Empire. Ooof, hello reality.

I grew up in a large family with lots of siblings. We were all super close (and kinda crazy 😂) growing up; as we've become adults, however, personality differences have led some of my siblings to stop talking to each other which then bled over into them not talking to anyone else in the family. Not gonna lie, the past few years have been really hard, trying to figure out how best to navigate things so as to not push any of my siblings away but also give them their space.

Needless to say, I saw my family reflected in the Bad Batch. The Bad Batch were so close for so long, and then started falling apart. When Crosshair not only wouldn't go with his family in the season 1 finale but also seemed to be rejecting Hunter's statement that they could pursue different paths without being enemies, my heart broke even more. I know it will be a long time - if ever - that my own family members all reconcile with each other, so I really wanted this little clone family, at least, to get that chance. (Living out my hopes and dreams in fiction, I guess?)

Season 2 continued the season 1 trend of showing us both sides in such a sympathetic and nuanced way. I like to try keeping an open mind and seeing a situation from different angles/POV, both in real life and with fictional stories; so I think a big part of the reason why I adore this show is because it gave us the opportunity to consider both the main squad's AND Crosshair's perspectives, which honestly was a great exercise for me over the past few years in keeping an open mind regarding my own siblings' experiences and opinions (even if I don't always agree with them). And I was still holding out hope that this little clone family would have a chance to reconcile and be whole again.

And then Tech fell.

I'm crying right now just thinking about it.

(Tech was my favorite OG CF99 member since the moment he first stepped on screen, so his death would have been excruciatingly painful regardless; but the fact that he apparently died before the family could be fully reconciled... Well, I already know such a scenario - someone dying before reconciliation - is sadly possible with my own family, but having it happen to this fictional family just hit WAY too close to home, and I would have been equally devastated about this if any other Bad Batcher had died.)

Going into season 3, I knew there was a chance Tech wouldn't come back, much as I wanted him to. I LOVED watching Crosshair build a relationship with Omega, rejoin the family and reconcile with his other brothers, but... Tech is his brother too! With each passing episode, it was a struggle between hoping Tech would come back so the family would actually get their chance to be whole again, while also looking for any closure, any indication that Tech's memory and legacy would be acknowledged and honored by all the siblings he'd sacrificed himself for. I wanted Tech to be alive to get his own happy ending for his own sake, but if a comeback wasn't happening I wanted his life and sacrifice to clearly serve as an influence and motivation for his family. And for his siblings' sake (ESPECIALLY Crosshair's), if Tech was really dead and there wasn't going to be a full reunion, at least let the whole family heal from the loss, at least let the family honor the brother who gave everything to give them a chance to reunite.

The finale concluded, and I realized we got neither: there had been no full family reunion, and there had been no real closure/healing for the family regarding Tech's sacrifice either. (And I don't think it's at all unreasonable to have assumed the show would give us one or the other.)

Look, I'm one of those people who walked into Rogue One assuming it would have a happy ending. (Oh, those days when I was so young and naive...) So let me tell you, that ending traumatized me almost as badly as the ending of ASM2.

But, while other tragic/bittersweet endings have shaken me, it was the Bad Batch finale that literally left me feeling physically ill for days afterwards. Like, I was so relieved that everyone else lived? But it was so strange to be told it was a "happy ending" when, out of the entire family, only Omega kinda sorta maybe (if you squint) had a moment to honor their fallen brother? The family goes through all that trauma and loss and we end the show without actually resolving it, without the family actually healing? Tech's sacrifice made the Batch's eventual retirement possible, and the show won't even just say it? And to add insult to injury, after an entire season with the narrative teasing the possibility of Tech still being alive with CX2 being the forerunning explanation for it, it's all "well, we're still not going to provide any real closure on this plot point, but aren't you glad you can maybe assume Tech ISN'T CX2 since Hunter ran that sucker through without blinking an eye? Look, happy ending!"

I'm still stuck in "season 1" with my own family, so watching this story play out and ultimately conclude with this fictional family not getting full closure regarding one of their own siblings who had never been anything but supportive of all of them was... unsatisfying, to say the least. I LOVE that the clones, who were created by Palpatine to be discarded, managed to (unknowingly) strike a significant blow against Palpatine's plans. I LOVE that Omega and some of the other clones were able to choose to live peacefully on Pabu. I LOVE that Crosshair came back to his family. Still, I will never get over how Tech was handled - both the character himself and the characters he was closest to.

And I think this is part of the reason why I really hope the Bad Batch's on-screen appearances aren't completely over yet - and why, even without factoring in all the narrative ambiguity in season 3, I'm still rooting for Tech to return. Tech himself definitely deserved better, and his family deserved better too.

So there's my long-winded explanation for why there's not a single day that goes by that I don't think about this show 😅

[souryogurt64]

hey sarah do u remember the deal w whatever the fuck rivers cuomo was doing on tinder trying to find like muses or whatever? i use that factoid as a conversation starter in bars w dudes but realized i forgot the details whenever they ask more questions so i figured i'd ask u thank u sm can't wait for the video!!

YES he like joined Tinder with his wife's permission to meet girls to write songs about like muses except he never did anything physical with them and didnt meet up with a lot of them and thats what Thank God For Girls is about. And also years ago my old roommate was in a chatroom he had coded himself back in the 90s and he was also in the chatroom and would like yap in the chatroom about his daily life like tumblr mutuals and it was always batshit insane things like weighing his daily coffee intake. Anyway. One time he apparently complained that he got banned from Seeking Arrangements because they didn't believe he was the real Rivers Weezer. Also everyone in this chatroom was like at least 40 except my roommate and there was like. This one woman who would send like. Very dramatic cringy love poems about him. And they had a private channel that was just the 2 of them?????????? While this is deranged I honestly support him, it feels like he's more ethical than a lot of rockstars. Also kind of hot to be honest

It doesn't surprise me though because Across The Sea is about this fangirl from Japan that wrote him a letter and he got super obsessed with her and it's about like imagining her jacking off to him but he never wanted to have sex with her because he felt like it would be wrong.

Also recently I was on the Pretty Odd wikipedia page and there was a quote from the guy who wrote Pete Wentz's book about how Pretty Odd was like Pinkerton and I was like hmmm I like Weezer I wonder what that says so I clicked the footnote and my eyes were immediately assaulted with this article that was like "Weezer. Are the best band in the world. Because when I was fourteen and horny. They introduced me to the concept of 18 year old Japanese girls masturbating." And I was like wow. Really could have gone my entire life without reading that

[delopsia]

Harrison has SUCH alpha energy though…. raging breeding kink with that one

Ugh, you have such a good point there 😩 y'all wanna know the real reason why they call him Harrison Knott? I'll see myself out

Harrison strikes me as the kind of guy who would intentionally hide the whole alpha thing; he isn't necessarily shy or insecure about his status, but he's obsessed with the idea of falling in love with him for who he is, not his status. He's an alpha and then some. Think of a/b/o statuses as liquid in a cup. Some are fuller than others.

Harrison's is overflowing and pouring off the side of the damn table.

And he's painfully aware of it. Growing up, he found himself constantly pursued, all because of this dumb status he's found himself with. Fun at first, but it gets old very quickly. Harrison is very, very careful to scrub himself down twice a day, uses special soap, and takes medication to reduce the scent he naturally produces.

He used to love surfing with friends in more public areas, but once he'd start sweating, heads would turn, and suddenly, he had a bunch of unwanted interest. Attention that he hadn't received when he was passing as a beta. So he surfs alone or with close friends. He pays extra to access a private gym, and if he ever feels like jogging, it's in very secluded areas.

Enter, you.

A quiet omega who wandered into his place of work, looking for a CD by a band so niche that even he didn't know where to start looking for it. The owner had said they carried it, but not a soul knew where the hell it had been stashed. Harrison offered to look for it while you visited some other shops, but you'd politely insisted that you help him. It's a good thing, too. The CD had fallen behind a cabinet too heavy to be moved. Harrison couldn't reach it, but you could.

You returned a week later, looking for another, and Harrison's joke about you intentionally picking hard-to-find albums devolved into you staying long after the disc had been found. Chatting in between customers, debating on songs, challenging each other's music taste. It was settled; you'd each take the week to curate the perfect playlist and exchange them. But Harrison called in sick the day you came in, and the girl at the desk passed along a note with his phone number.

At the time, you'd found it odd that he hardly had a scent. Even betas have their own unique aroma, but with no further indication of what he could be, you presumed him to be one. Blissfully unaware and, quite frankly, didn't care what his secondary gender was. How could you? 

He's always so sweet, fetching the door for you, distracts you and pays the bill when you two go to a local diner. Takes you dancing, covers your drink with his palm when you leave it unattended, and drives you everywhere, no matter the distance. He takes you on a day trip to a niche record shop with a CD you've been hopelessly searching for. Leaves you weak in the knees when he walks you up to your door after, hesitantly leans in, and kisses you right then and there, under the pale outdoor light. 

For a while, it's not spoken of. It's as if that kiss never happened; he's busy with work and figuring out his schooling, and you're suddenly hosting a friend who, without warning, was broken up with and cast out of her apartment. Between being a shoulder to cry on, helping her settle in, and other life events, you lose track of your dates.

When Harrison invites you to join him on a trip upstate, saying something about getting accepted into two schools and not being able to decide unless he saw them in person. It's a welcome escape and an adventure all wrapped into one. Your friend can have her time alone and watch over the place while you're gone, and you can go and blow off responsibilities with a pretty-faced beta for two or three days. 

Your face feels oddly warm that morning, but your friend says you look fine, and it seems to go away once you step out into the cool morning air. Harrison is two hours into the drive when he tilts his head and asks if you're feeling alright. You don't get why he's asking; nothing relatively seems off. In fact, you're well enough to walk to every place he wants to see. The record shop, the beach, the actual school itself, and all of the niche little places around it, looking for something, anything to help him decide.

Until you're standing in a convenience store, and someone—an alpha, approaches you. You don't understand his heavy flirting until he mentions your heat. And then it hits you. Your heat was due to start today. You're stumbling back, all too warm, muttering an apology as you turn to walk away, but this guy is persistent, grabbing hold of your shoulder before you can get too far. 

Or at least...he tries. 

Harrison comes out of absolute nowhere. Shoving himself between you like a brick wall, and he's arguing, saying something, but you can't hear it. There's a new scent in the room. Faint at first, but it follows you as he guides you out to the car, promising to come back with your chosen snacks. Something akin to pineapple and a fresh ocean breeze, like you've been transported straight to the beach. 

Harrison thinks you've figured out that he's an alpha. 

You just think he smells good. 

It's hard to recall how things escalated after he carried you back to the hotel room. Whether it be the moment your pained plea for help met his ears or when his kind, inexplicably dark eyes met with yours. But one way or another, you find yourself gasping at the feeling of his scruffy mouth against your lips, cradling your face between his big hands, promising he'll take care of you; he'll make it stop hurting. 

He eats you out like a man starved. Works you through two long-winded orgasms, has a sheen of sweat clinging to his flushed skin when he comes back up to kiss you again. It's still not enough, but you can't even think about it because something has just occurred to you. 

He's an alpha. 

And he's just shocked to the core that you didn't realize until now. But maybe that's also what makes him so eager to please you; it's everything he's craved. To be wanted, regardless of his status, and hear you are, mid-heat, begging for him for the sole reason of it being him. 

Regardless of the reason, it's a wonder you can even walk when he's done with you. Hiking your legs over his broad shoulders, biceps bulging as he fucks you nice and proper. Makes you beg him to knot you, to breed you nice 'n full, make a complete mess of your poor pussy. Shushing and kissing you as it catches, grunting prettily into your ear and filling you so full that your head spins. 

The trip is only meant to be two days. It extends to five because he can't keep himself away from you. Rubbing his scent all over you, nipping at your soft skin with his teeth, and grumbling into your neck. The closest thing he can get to a contented purr. He bends you over the sink, fucks you into the mattress, and guides you to ride him on the couch, never once misses the chance to sink in deep and let your bodies tether. Grows annoyed when he can't keep his cum from leaking out and down your pretty thighs. 

And when you do head home, you can only press pause for so long. Fighting the temptation to pull over and tangle in the back seat, only held back by the fear of being caught. Your friend isn't home when you tumble through the door, and you're so thankful that she isn't because your shirt is off before you make it into your room. Luggage long forgotten because you can only focus on the warm, oversized alpha squeezing you in his big arms.

In fact, you keep him there for the night. And the one after that. 

Over the course of a short trip, Harrison goes from passing as a beta to going without the medications and washes, shamelessly rubbing his scent all over you and bugs you to do the same 'cause he needs everyone to know he belongs to you. The deciding factor on schools is you; he wants to be fifteen minutes away rather than a couple of hours. And then your friend gets back on her feet, finds a place of her own, and one day, Harisson quits leaving your home. 

This man loves to watch you mosey about the house, gathering up his softest clothing and situating it all into one big nest on the bed. Harisson isn't the biggest on scenting things that aren't you, but if you hold something up to him and ask for it, he'll gladly rub the side of his head against it until you deem it suitable. Always waits for you to invite him inside of it, too; it's such an intimate space, and he'd hate to upset you by intruding. One of his friends accidentally opened the bedroom door on you while looking for the bathroom, and Harisson damn near lost his mind. "This is a cute bedroom." "Yeah, it is; now shut the damn door."

There is rarely a day when a head doesn't turn Harisson's way; classmates, coworkers, friends, and strangers alike hit on him, but he's only got eyes for you. If you'll let him, he'll parade you around every chance he gets, showing you off to the world; grows possessive when anyone takes that as an invitation to touch you. It's a wonder it takes him so long to mark you as his because he sure is eager to ensure everyone sees the healing scar on his pretty neck.

Everything you want, you get. He spoils you to no end. He supports the whole independence thing, but once he gets on his feet as a doctor, he's too happy to let you become a stay-at-home omega if that's what you want. Because there is nothing this man loves more than walking through the front door of his house and being greeted with your chirps and kisses. 

...well, he might enjoy the sound of you begging him to knot you a little bit more, but that's neither here nor there. 

[theoldoor]

churin in that new hoyofair thing + fenrir I LOVE MY MANNN

OHHH GOD THEYRE SO STUPID TOGEHTERRR

Nothing much here today just post-talia content.

ure aventurine imagine giving u a new family for like 2 years and it was revealed to all be a scheme set up by ur colleague (obsidian) to fetch back her little gems that talian thieves stole and now you watch that said family gets fucking obliterated two fold ur trauma and spent the following time beating urself around and them boom the said family came back as prisoners to the ipc just so they can meet you and all the time u spent grieving they weren’t even dead they were just goofing around (running as refugees) with a new name and causing up shits

but its cool now cuz theyre all safe and you guys can get back into being dumbasses together.

im so obsessed with that star rail disco thing HOW TF DID AVENTURINE MANAGE TO CONVINCE SUNDAY AND DR RATIO TO JOIN THAT SHITTT LMFAOAO ok fenrir too but he will piss and shit about it, like he always does but still do it anyways. look at how cute he is in that shirt that aventurine kinda pressured him into cutting that titty window out to match his unbuttoned shirt HAAHAHAHHH IM SO SIICCK THEYRE LITERALLY SO OLDER BROTHER X HIS BROMANTIC BEST FRIEND

+ no angsty shit cuz theyre happy and goofy now so let them be. just two dudes being teenagers again despite being an elite scary guy in the business and have probably been indirectly and direcrly responsible for thousands of death and the other guy is a dude who manipulated 34 people to sacrifice themselves for a weird ritual because he had to get rid of the vampire larvae in him so that he wouldnt become swarm jr - cuz theres still humanity, even in destruction

they’d start a garage band together tbh, fenrir being the bassist + vocalist while aventurine being lead guitarist OOOHHH VOCALIST X GUITARIST IM FUCKING SIIICCCKK … also sparks me an idea icp ipc au LMFAO imagine if the IPC were juggalos that’d be funny as shit + fenrir probably introduce them to icp

ive been fanonizing fenrir so much i kinda forgot he’s canonically intimidating

bonus tiktok thing </3

[justanamesstuff]

Didn't mean to hurt you baby - Matty Healy x f!reader

Matty is drunk and hurts her feelings with his words.

A/N: Had this in my drafts for a few weeks. I'm working on Chapter 8.5 but I needed a break from it. Hope you like it!! Reblogs, comments and all of that it's always welcomed ♥♥♥

Warnings: drunk rambles, mention of alcohol and weed, angst, hurt feelings, comments about bodies, Matty's a boob man, typos.

Word count: 1.8 K

Blog MASTERLIST

“Come on, sweets.” she said, trying to get Matty out of the car. After a night out with the rest of the band and their partners, saying that he was just drunk was very far from the truth. He was almost passed out from all he drank. 

“Mmm.” Matty mumbled. 

Answering to her commands, Matty leaned forward and almost meet the floor, tripping with his own feet. Y/n catch him by sneaking an arm around his waist, and passing his right arm to rest on her shoulders.

“Watch out, Matty.”

“Mm- sorry.”

She turned to look at his face, saying, “Can you walk or do you want me to help you?” 

“I can…” he answered, drawing out his words. Y/n nodded, so they started the short–but long with him in that state– trip towards the bed upstairs. Matty spoked again when his girlfriend managed to open the front door while holding his body, “Y’know what I’ve been thinking?”

“No, you want to tell me?”

“Boobs.”

Y/n suppressed a laugh, “Okay?” 

“Your boobs.” he clarified. 

“What about them?” 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, Y/n breathed loud, trying to gain enough force to push him up without him falling down the stairs. 

Matty and Y/n touched the first step. 

“They’re perfect.” Matty let his free hand touched the intricate patters on her shirt under her left boob. 

Y/n went to thank him for the compliment, “Thank you ba-“

But Matty interrupted her, “Not perfect perfect, but perfect for me…”

She couldn’t help to feel hurt after hearing his words. Y/n thought he liked her body and usually felt like he was obsessed with her breasts. Always sneaking his hands under her shirts and hoodies to touch her skin but especially the soft skin of her boobs. ‘Don't him love me any more?’, the question popped inside her head.

“Let’s get you in bed.” she didn’t acknowledge his words out loud.

Y/n felt like the stair had more steps than she remembered. 

Matty couldn’t seem to let go the topic, “They could’ve absolutely perfect if they were a tiny bit smaller….although I love them, I love you.” he talked directly to her chest.

“Are you talking to my breast, Matthew?” 

“I’m just in love with her, y’know?” his words making less and less sense.

“I can see that.”

Y/n managed to drag Matty to their shared bedroom. Matty fell on the mattress with a loud sound. 

“Okay, sleep. Now.” Y/n instructed him.

She took his clothes, leaving him to rest with only his boxers on. Matty closed his eyes when she tugged him in. Y/n quickly went through her night routine and joined him.

Matty felt her get under the sheets, “I love you.” he breathed out into her chest.

With his words still in her mind, Y/n hesitated to replied,  “I love you, Matty.” because she mean it, although her heart was swelling. 

……………………………………..

Matty woke up the next day. His head was hurting, his limbs weight more than usually, and his mouth was dry. Even though, her first realization that morning was the empty space beside him. 

Y/n wasn’t in bed.

The singer huffed and groaned more than necessary, letting the world know he was in pain and craved the touch of his girlfriend. He wondered where she went, or she had mentioned having to do something that morning. He couldn’t recall anything.

Y/n was seated on the kitchen table, the sun touching her factions, while she read something on her phone. She was perfect.

“Hi, baby.” he let his hands rest on her shoulders, approaching his face to her neck, breathing her in. 

“Hey.” she dryly said. 

“You weren’t in bed.” Matty pointed out, hugging her from behind.

“Had to do some laundry.” Y/n moved forward, feeling nervous in his embrace. “I’m going to run some errands now. We’re out of milk…” she moved away from him. Matty felt his stomach twist.

He looked at her moved around the kitchen, leaving her mug on the sink, “Okay, do you want me to go with-“ he started to offer. 

Y/n cut him, “No, it’s fine. Be right back.”

The sound of the door closing down let behind a very confused Matty. She hadn’t kissed him or even hug him. He felt hurt.

The frontman tried not to think too much into it. He walked towards the fridge. Looking for some eggs to cook, his hand found something. Milk. Matty stared at it, deeply puzzled. She lied? What’s going on?

——————

Late after lunch, Y/n made her way inside the house. The sound made Matty rushed out of his studio, startling her. 

“Hi!” Matty shouted. 

“Shit- Hey, you scared me!” Y/n brought a hand to her racing heart. 

Matty looked down at her hand. They were empty. 

“Sorry. Did you forget the milk in the car?” he wondered.

“What? Ah- Um…yeah, I’ll-“ Y/n started to turn around, avoiding his eyes.

“Y/n?” Matty asked.

“Yeah?” she reached for the handle, having him her back. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, why?” Y/n quickly answered. 

Matty started walking, stretching the space between them, “Baby…” 

“Fuck.” she said under her breath, feeling her eyes watered. “It’s…nothing.” While inside, she debated to tell him or not.

“It’s not nothing if you hide from me, and run out when I’m around you.” Matty accused her from a few steps behind her.

“I’m not-“

“Y/n, please tell me. I’ll help.”

“I- This is stupid.” Y/n let a hand ran through her forehead. She turned around, taking him in. She went to say something but closed her mouth. Matty waited. With one more look to his eyes, Y/n sighed loud, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

He tried to think, but his mind was blank. 

“Not really, babe.”

“Mhm.”

“What did I do?”

“Why you think you did something?” Y/n let her hands touched the cold door behind her.

“Because you’re running away from me, my love.” Matty’s face softened, feeling like this was indeed a big deal. 

“You- It’s nothing major, you just made some comments.” She avoided his eyes.

“About?”

“Me.” Y/n choked a little.

Matty felt instantly bad, “What did I say?”

“You don’t really remember?” she almost pleaded. 

“I swear to god…” Matty approached her fully, taking her chin in his hand, forcing her to look to his eyes. “Even though I’m an atheist.” He tried to joke. “George brought this weed seed…that blown my mind, and it was a mistake to mix it with alc-“

“Matty.” she interrupted, exhausted with his long speech. 

“Sorry, sorry…I don’t remember, I swear!”

“Okay, I believe you. Thing was…” she looked everywhere around his face, but not his eyes. “You made some comments about my body, about my…breasts.” Y/n finally admitted. 

“Y/n, just tell me.” Matty tried to found her eyes. 

“Do you find me attractive? Like be the most superficial about it right now.” she dared to ask.

“Y/n? Baby…”

“Abstain yourself, answer my question.”

“I do! You’re the hottest chick out there…I- I don’t even know where to start without sounding like a total douche.”

“What about my breasts?”

“You mean my girls?” he wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Matty…”

“I adore them, you know that. If you allowed me, I’d have my hands and…or…my mouth there all the time. I’ll do it without skipping a bit. I thought you knew that.” Matty let his hand fell to his side.

“I thought I did…”

“Tell me what I said.” he requested.

“‘They are perfect…’”

“See?” Matty smiled wide.

She continued, “‘Not perfect perfect but perfect for me’ well, you…you know.” Matty went to interrupt himself, Y/n held a finger up. “They would be perfect perfect if they were a bit smaller.” 

“Y/n.”

“So now you know why I was avoiding you.” she stated, feeling her eyes stung.

“Baby.”

Her lip was quivering when she said, “You can’t comment on my body like that, Matty. I don’t care how stoned or drunk you were, are…you just can’t. Because over all morality, you hurt my feelings.”

Matty took her face in his hands, “Y/n, I'm so, so sorry, baby.” She didn’t say anything. “I’m a fucking asshole, a twat….fuck, I don’t deserve you, I really don’t. Please forgive me.” He approached his face really close to hers. 

“It was horrible to hear it from your mouth.”

“I know…I understand.”

“I’d never do that to you. You’re perfect in my eyes, Matty. Even when perfection is impossible.” Y/n moved uncomfortable on her spot.

“You’re perfect perfect in my eyes, baby.” he hid his face on her neck, sneaking his arms around her waist.

“Apparently I’m not.” her words made him leaned backwards. 

“Y/n…”

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about how you probably fancy another girls more than me…and you’re around models all the time-“

“Y/n, stop.” he begged. “I don’t want anyone the way I want you, I need you…body and soul. You’re my everything. I want to worship you, your body, for the rest of my fucking life. Please tell me how to fix this.” Matty dared to peck her lips softly.

“Don’t lie to me, Matty.”

“I’m not lying! I swear, I’m sorry- I just- please believe me when I tell you…”

“Matty-“

“Let me show you then.” he urged her.

“No, I’d be self-conscious.”

“I can beg.”

Y/n kept her silence. Matty stared at her eyes. She felt like he was sincere and continued fighting was a waste of time. Although she wanted to take the advantage she had at the moment. 

“Can you?”

Matty instantly dropped to his knees, without breaking the eye contact.

“Please, Y/n.”

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty.” she whined, instructing him silently to move back up.

Matty kissed her fully. He felt completed once more after one long day of not having her. 

“I love you…I’m sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend.” he apologized.

“You're not shitty…there are things you have to learn, me too.” Y/n explained. 

“And I want you to teach me.”

“Sure.” she smiled.

Matty took a step back, looking down at her body, “I’m sorry girls.” going to press his face on her chest. The scene made her laugh, and Matty’s insides fluttered. 

“Such a weirdo.” she chuckled. 

“I love you too.”

“I love you. Next time I’m dumping your ass though.” she warned him.

“Yes, ma’am! There’s not going to be next time, I promise!” Matty left a trail of kisses reaching her neck.  

“Ok…although, there’s a lot of reassurance you have to do, Healy.” Y/n took her hand, leaving the entrance of their house. 

“With pleasure, my beautiful, drop dead gorgeous girlfriend.” Matty said, trailing behind her.

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, “Don’t push it.”