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tan1shere · 7 days

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Baby I could slow down

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I had no idea what to do until I was talking with a friend and she helped a bit, so enjoy !!

Summary: Ellie had been your tattoo artist for a bit, you hadn't gotten many tattoos in the past and if you did it wasn't anything huge. But you decided you wanted to get a tramp stamp, til things get heated.

Warnings: smut, mdni. Mirror sex, glove fixation ??? Bit filthy 😇 soft dom Ellie DUH this is me, I'm a soft dom Ellie fanatic. And sub, but kinda confident reader-? Ok that's all 😁

Masterlist

It was becoming an addiction. One tattoo was leading to 3, 6. So on and so on. You had a few tattoos already, but you decided today was the day you got a tramp stamp, you had been wanting one for some time. Only now were you going through with it. You have been going to the same artist since your first tattoo ever. She was your favorite not only was she good at her job but she was hot. And I mean hot. Everyone who knew of her thought the same thing. But she never would look at them like you. You were thankfully a tad blinded by it. Ofcourse you felt slight tension whenever you'd go, but you'd never think much of it. Until today.

You were wearing a white shirt that was tight to your skin, thin. Alongside some black jeans. It was later in the evening and you were her last for the day, which was usually the case, you would always go in the afternoon. You step through the doors, everything was quiet and it was just Ellie there. "Knock knock." You say, soon after seeing her come into the room. "Hey you." She grins slightly. You set your things down going over to the long flat table. "So a tramp stamp huh?" You nod. "Been wanting one for awhile actually." She grabs her black gloves. And you don't know what comes over you but the way she snaps it onto her hands makes you weak in the knees. You swallow, beginning to lay on your stomach on the black leather. "Haven't been in for awhile." She states, grabbing her supplies. You look infront of you, realizing the mirror was right there.

None of the tats youd get involved laying on your stomach. Ellie comes over, taking a moment looking at your curves, the way your lower back dipped as you prompted yourself on your forearms. Her gloved hands come to your sides slowly running along them, lifting your shirt in the process. Only a tiny bit before she goes to your jeans pulling them down just a smidge as you had high rise on, to get to your lower back. "This is going to look so good on you." She compliments. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You had been just getting yourself sorted that you hadn't noticed there was quiet music going on in the background. Ellie places the stencil on your skin, making sure it was placed good. Once that was all sorted.

She begins to start the pen up, you hear the vibrations. Getting ready for the slight pinchy sting. But in all honesty, it wasn't that painful usually. Her lingering touches on your sides felt nice, in a way almost teasing. "The butterfly suits you." You bit your lip slightly. And this woman looks up for a second, into the mirror. Noticing the action. You didn't dare look back. Everything was quiet in the room, the air filled with something flirty. It was starting to drive you insane.

Eventually there was some small talk, she'd ask about life recently and you did the same. Catching up from the last time you had come in. Her hands softly touch your skin, bringing the needle into your skin. It stung a tiny bit but by now you were use to it. "Comfortable?" She asks. You nod slightly. "Yeah it's easing up the more I come." You look up and in the mirror to see her smiling, yet still focusing on the tattoo. "Glad you come back to me so often." You bit your lip a little. "Yeah course, you're the best at what you do." Her smile turns into a slight grin. "Oh yeah?" That made your heart skip a beat, the way her voice was right now. You wanted to squirm but you knew you had to stay still. Which made Ellie want to tease you even more, knowing you could do nothing. The thought rolled around her brain driving her a little crazy. Her fingers lightly brush your side as she gets a different angle.

Things were quiet, you could feel the slight tension tho. The hand that was on your side now Moves to rest on the curve of your ass. Your eyes go wide at how casually she does the action. It was hot regardless. "Don't mind my hand love, just trying to find the right position." You swallow. "No thats- fine." She lets out a slight chuckle at how rushed that came out. "Just gotta get myself comfortable y'know?" You bit your lip, harder this time. You had to stay calm you couldn't make any movements. But it's as if she was testing you. You peer at her through the mirror infront of you, until you realized the needle had stopped for a second. She was looking right back at you. Your eyes locked for a good minute, when you let out a breath. "Nervous?" She blurts out. You're silent. You're afraid if you open your mouth you might moan. That just makes you shake your head out of that thought. You needed to be the one to focus because Jesus Christ.

"No, just-" But you had no idea how to cover that breath up. Fuck fuck fuck. Was this embarrassing or what. "Going too fast?" That confused you slightly, almost making you choke on your own spit. "With the tattoo darling." Oh. Your eyes blink a few time. "Uhm, yeah just a little.." Great save. She noticed how silent you were all of a sudden. "Baby, I could slow down if that's what you need me to do?" Your eyes meet in the mirror again. "Since this is bigger than you're use to." There was a slight smirk evident on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing. Wording things in such a way. "Uhm, it's ok just new to this, yeah- bigger than what I'm uhm. Use to." She just chuckles again, looking back down at the tattoo. But her focus was more on the way your back was arched. Her brain let it travel to all these thoughts. What it'd be like to see her fucking you from behind, especially with this tattoo. But that wasn't professional, was it Ellie? You let your eyes go away from the mirror, looking down at your hands.

Fuck it. She thought. She was almost done with it anyways. "Well. Whoever gets to be the one seeing this from behind is lucky. Very lucky." - "All done." She then says, to which you move sitting up. "Too bad no one gets to." You say. Ellie was sly, making sure you weren't involved with anyone by that statement. "Huh.. Shame." Your eyes meet yet again, but not before you turn your ass slightly to get a better look at it. You smile wide. "Oh my God I love it!" You beam. "Good good." She goes to clean up, about to take her gloves off when you stop her. "Wait- keep them on." She was a little shocked at the sudden request but did so anyway. You felt bold all of a sudden. "Maybe there's one person who could enjoy looking at it.. From behind." Her smirk grew. "Oh yeah? Who might that be?" You slowly stride closer. "Maybe the one who did it." She looks up at you from her seat, lust peeking through her green eyes.

Was she really going to go through with this. I mean this is her place, she could do what she liked. And it's not like she didn't know you at all. She was still looking at you. So were you, but your eyes traveled to her hands, her own tattoo. Good lord. She soon noticed making her smirk a bit with pride. She liked the way she affected you. She subtly moves her fingers around, she had it resting on her thigh. But since you were watching why not have a little fun. Her arm shortly flexes, making her slight veins stick out. You could feel your breathing getting heavier, you needed it. Needed her. Your eyes meet hers again, when suddenly she's reaching out. Grabbing the back of your thighs and swiftly pulling you onto her lap. Your breath got caught in your throat as you weren't expecting it. Her lips were immediately on yours. This kiss was well needed and hungry.

"Ever since you first came in here I've been wanting to do that." You bit your lip again, looking down at hers. "I think you should totally do it again." And she did instantly. Keeping her hands gently on your waist. "Get back on the table." She says slightly out of breath. "Only if you keep those gloves on." You smirk a lil, making her smirk too. "Yes ma'am." You try not to giggle like a pathetic little looser as she says that, getting back on the table. Her hand came in contact with your jeans before you do, yanking them down. You turn your head to look at her. She examines your body fully. "This will be fun." You smile more getting on the cushion table again. "Everytime I come for a tattoo I always wish we could do something.." You admit.

It boosts her ego crazily. She wastes no time taking your underwear off, gently pulling your legs so you're closer to her. "Mmmm." She let's out lowly. Your head lifts, looking at her in the mirror. "Want you to keep looking into it, want you to watch your face as I fuck you." You felt yourself clench around nothing, getting incredibly desperate for this now. You watch as she undoes her pants, getting out what you've been craving. "Matches the gloves, huh." Her voice made you wetter, and the thought made you close your eyes. She moves over your body grabbing a fistful of your hair, making you reopen your eyes. "What'd I say." Her voice was soft, laced with demand. "You bit your lip even harder. "To look in the mirror as you fuck me." She hums. "Good." You could feel the tip waiting to be slipped in. She does, shortly. Painfully slow if you might add. But once it was all in, you arch your back. Begging for more of it. "Haven't even moved yet babe." But you didn't care at all. You needed this. Now.

"Please." You breath, and it makes Ellie go crazy. She begins to move and not slowly either. In fact it was faster than you had anticipated. She was just as eager as you tho, the way your back arched, the way the tattoo looked. Your curves. She was loving this all too much. You look at her through the mirror, her eyes were looking at your body until then she met yours in the mirror. "Hear how wet you are? You had been wanting this huh?" You finally let out a moan, trying not to be too loud. "God you're so fine, glad you wanted this tat you look so hot with it. Especially in this position." It was her turn to bite her lip, watching as you moved on the strap too. It was intoxicating how this was all making you feel. "I'm so close." You blab, which made her speed up. Your eyes roll back, Ellie swears she could just cum at the sight of you in the mirror. The strap moving in a way that it gets her clit nice, making her groan and speed up again. "You look so good, shit."

Moans, grunts. Whines, were all that could be heard as you both come closer to your release. "Ellie i-" you were cut off by yet another moan. "I know, feel you clenching, mph. You're getting tighter." Your eyes never leave the mirror, and now so do hers. The latex of the gloves come in contact with your hips, sending you into overdrive as this gives her a better chance at slamming into you. You let out a cry of her name as you finally cum around her, Ellie looses it at the sight, the speed hitting her clit still making her cum along with you. All to be heard was heavy breaths. "It's free." She breathes out huskily.

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams the last of us smut

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starkidmunson · 1 month

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glitter & crimson

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous.

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning.

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe.

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned.

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ‘em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.” Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile.

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot.

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

#glitter & crimson #hockey player!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #steddie au #gareth #corroded coffin #lumax #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #starkidmunson writes #tw: mention of addiction #tw: mention of rehab #if there's anything in here anyone ever thinks i should tag #just tell me pls #thanks for reading!

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felixdragonheartofficial · 3 months

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TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

#tfa #decepticons #autobots #tfa headcanons #tfa optimus prime #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #AUUUUUUGH #im gonna have a pole #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa sari #sari sumdac #sari mention

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lihhelsing · 9 months

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Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

Despite Eddie's wishes, everything just keeps on moving.

In a way, it's a little comforting to know that no matter how badly Eddie fucks up, life keeps going. It kept going when Lou almost broke him, it kept going every time he dumped someone or got dumped. It kept going when his mom passed away in the middle of the European leg of their tour.

It kept moving when he and Steve stopped walking in the same direction.

Eddie sits in his dressing room, waiting for his make-up to be finished. He barely slept during the night, a mix of anxiousness and fear of whatever was to come.

Eddie wants to talk to Steve and clear the air and explain that what he had seen the night before wasn't what he thought it was. There's nothing between him and Lou. Not anymore.

It's not like he thinks Steve still wants something with him. He's not delusional or anything, knows Steve is doing this only as a favor to him and nothing more. But he's done hurting Steve, needs to put an end to all this once and for all.

There was no time in between the band finishing up their part of the music video at around 3am and the super early call time they all had for the last day of shooting. When he got there, Eddie got dragged to wardrobe and make-up and had no time to even look for Steve.

He hoped Steve hadn't bailed because of whatever it was that he thought he saw last night, but if he had, they would most likely know by now. Probably.

But to be completely honest, Eddie doesn't even realize he's holding his breath in anticipation until the moment he lay eyes on Steve again.

Eddie gets into the studio all ready for the shooting. His clothes are a perfect match to what he used to wear back then, right before Corroded Coffin made it big. A sleeveless CC shirt with ripped skinny jeans. Always black. Chains and rings and a leather jacket on top of everything.

It feels even weirder once he gets a good look at it. The studio had been completely modified and now he can see a perfect representation of his uncle’s old trailer. The place where he made most of the music for their first album.

The place where he fell in love with Steve.

But now that Eddie is really looking at it, he can see only half of the trailer. The other half is actually the recording studio where they had made their first album.

Half and half, torn in the middle, just like Eddie had been back then. Unable to choose between life with Steve and the band.

Whenever Eddie was with Steve, his brain was thinking music and lyrics and chords. He itched to put his hands on a guitar, to take notes, to write.

Then, when he was with the band, he kept thinking about Steve, missing him, missing his touch and his kiss and-

“Hey,” Steve’s voice sounds unsure, like he had tried getting Eddie’s attention more than once.

“Hi. Sorry, it’s… Weird being back here,” Eddie says and Steve gives him a soft smile which… Don't seem like a bad thing.

“Yeah. Brings back a lot of memories,” Steve agrees and motions forward as if he’s going to touch Eddie’s arm.

But then the director is calling their names and asking if they are ready and Steve drops his hand, turning away from him.

“Can we, uh, talk? After? I really wanted to explain what you saw yesterday.”

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Eddie.”

“No, I know. But I want to. If you… Please?”

Steve looks over at him and there’s this unreadable thing about his expression that tugs at Eddie’s heart. He needs him to say yes. Needs him to listen to him. He needs to still have a chance.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve says finally and Eddie can barely react before they are being directed to their places for the shoot.

They have both the places that tore Eddie apart, and they are separated by a thick glass. Steve is standing on one side, a symbol of Eddie’s past life, the one he left behind when he started to pursue a life in music.

The other is all his dreams coming true. Everything that he ever wanted becoming real. Back then, Eddie thought Steve didn’t fit in it. Steve didn’t feel he fit in. He never made Eddie choose, but soon it became clear Eddie wouldn’t be able to balance the two things at the same time for long.

He’d be away too much. And Steve needed him near. Wanted him there and Eddie wasn’t there. They fought, screamed at each other out of frustration and heartbreak.

Eddie wanted to stay and he knew he needed to leave, but he only found courage to do it when Steve told him he didn’t see a future for them, that Eddie should put his chips on something more certain.

He realized that day he would never be enough for Steve. He was splitting himself in half for him, trying to make everyone happy, and even then he was failing. Couldn't get things right.

The day he walked away, Eddie felt like his heart was going to give in. And he feels that way again as he looks into Steve’s eyes and sings how he hates that he loved him.

There's this glass in between them and Eddie can't get through. No matter how loud he sings, no matter how much he tries, he can't have it all. He starts to wonder how much different his life would be if he had bet on his relationship with Steve.

Wonders if he would've been happy with any other job. Maybe he would have become a music teacher somewhere. Have a white picket fence house with three cats and Steve. Maybe that would've been enough for him.

Or maybe he'd resent Steve, like he always said he would. Every time Eddie missed something related to the band because Steve, he said that. Like Eddie couldn't make his own decisions.

He knocks on the glass as Steve walks around the trailer with his back to Eddie. He wants to reach him, but he can't, and suddenly there's this suffocating need to tell him everything. To tell Steve how he feels.

It's not past tense. His feelings for Steve never went anywhere, always there, always alive. He needs him to know. Even if Steve doesn't feel the same anymore, he's sure Steve has moved on from their thing a long time ago. He just needs him to know.

Maybe back then it wasn't time for him and Steve, but maybe now it can be.

#hate that i loved you #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things #rockstar AU #second chance romance #I wrote this in one sitting and never looked back #forgive me if it's awful #next part will be better I promise

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

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welp, this one has gotten out of hand (over 3k... yikes) but here we are! part 3 of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (only 2 more parts after this!)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 3: coat of many colors

Only a few weeks later, Eddie starts to slip up.

Any other day he’d wake up to the sweet, sweet sounds of his favorite Dio album, but one morning he grabs an old Johnny Cash album that Wayne sometimes listens to and puts that one on instead.

It’s nice, and even though it’s apparently recorded at an actual prison, it still feels like home (Eddie tries not to think about that too much).

On a late night when Wayne’s still at work, he fishes his old acoustic guitar from underneath his bed and starts strumming away random chords that sound like the country songs his momma played when he was little. Sometimes he still remembers the lyrics, softly mumbling them even though there’s no one around to hear them.

It’s nice, it doesn’t sound as sweet as when his momma played it for him, but it still feels like home (Eddie actually thinks about it a lot this time).

And it’s not like he’s abandoned his usual music or anything. He still has his Judas Priest tapes in the van because his driving would probably even more reckless if he drove without any music (and isn’t that saying something). And he still loves his sweetheart more than anything, she just has to deal with sharing him for a bit.

Not a lot of many people notice it, at first. Mostly because he still keeps that part of himself hidden, safely tucked away in the comfort of his own bedroom.

But Wayne notices, because of course does.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, son?” Wayne asks, never looking up from where his eyes are glued to the morning newspaper.

Eddie’s halfway out the door already, car keys jingling against his rings when his uncle speaks up, turns around in the doorway. “Uh…”

He looks down at his clothes - what is he wearing anyway? Ripped jeans - all fine, nothing new. White t-shirt - okay, not his usual color but not that strange. Forest green plaid button down and beat-up leather boots that both actually belonged to Wayne at one point - yeah, that must be it.

“Yeah, I mean I know they’re yours… You want them back or somethin’?”

Wayne chuckles and closes the newspaper, leaning back in his chair. “No, no. Not at all. Just surprised you’re wearing it. Ain’t you meetin’ the kids?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie frowns. “Should I… not be wearing this?”

“Wear whatever you want.” Wayne shrugs. “It’s just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, nice. Nice to see you bein’ comfortable wearing that sorta thing again.” Wayne says. “Lord knows you wouldn’t be caught dead in it years ago.”

Eddie thinks back to when he first came to Hawkins, with an almost empty suitcase and ratty old teddy-bear in his hand. He didn’t have any clothes that were fit for the cold Novembers in Hawkins, more used to the mild Tennessee winters, so Wayne did the best he could and dressed him up in the warmest thing he had on hand at the time. A warm, blue flannel that Eddie’s small frame almost drowned in.

Not that he cared about it at that point. He only cared about how warm and soft it felt.

Which was fine up until the point that the other kids at school started caring about their clothes and how they looked and they started laughing at Eddie’s clothes. Making fun of how poor he was that he couldn’t even afford a decent sized shirt. Teasing him in the locker room about the holes in his socks.

He decided then and there to swear off all the clothes Wayne picked out for him and changed his style up completely. His classmates were gonna bully him anyway, but he’d be damned if they insulted Wayne in the process.

“Well, yeah. Guess I’m goin’ back to my roots.” Eddie shrugs.

“Noticed that as well.” Wayne is smirking now, way too pleased about the whole situation and gestures to his mouth. “Your accent, Ed. Any minute now and you’ll be talkin’ like Miss Parton herself.”

Eddie’s face heats up - if only Wayne knew what he’s been up to in his spare time “Shut up, old man. You’re gonna make me late.”

He drives a little faster than normal to the Wheeler’s house, because Wayne really did keep him a few minutes too long, but he still ends up relatively on time for Mike’s birthday party. Everyone’s already in the decorated basement (balloons and garlands and all) and Mrs. Wheeler is snapping pictures left and right, much to Mike’s obvious dismay.

Mike’s face does light up when Eddie comes stumbling down the basement, present in hand.

“Happy Birthday, mini Wheeler.” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, not fair! We were friends way before you befriended my sister.” Mike sighs.

“Eddie’s just got good taste.” Nancy smirks before turning back to her conversation with Max and El.

“She said it, not me.” Eddie laughs. “Now open your present.”

He’d bought Mike this older copy of a D&D manual. It’s a first edition that Eddie randomly found one day in a thrift store and considering the grin on Mike’s face, Eddie knows he made the right decision.

Behind them on the table there’s a bunch of already-opened presents but one sticks out to Eddie - a beautifully depiction of the Party members, including El and Max, painted onto a notebook.

“Nice notebook.”

“Isn’t it the coolest? Will made it for me.” Mike gushes. “He always knows what kind of present to get me. He’s such a good friend.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Poor Mike, so tragically oblivious to what’s staring right in front of him, bowl-cut and heart-eyes and all. But since he can’t actually laugh Mike in the face, he just smirks and pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh Michael… Bless your tiny lil’ heart.”

Mike just beams at him, once again blissfully unaware of the little back-handed compliment that just escaped Eddie’s Tennessee mouth and runs off again to join the party. Not noticing a thing.

But apparently someone does.

“What was that?” Steve asks from where he’s standing behind Eddie.

“What was what?” Eddie replies automatically. He doesn’t turn around just yet, slightly terrified to find out Steve’s reaction. Not there’s any malice to be heard in his voice, but Eddie’s learned to be careful even when everything seems to be safe.

“That… the whole bless your heart thing.”

“That’s a just saying.” Eddie shrugs.

“But the accent… where did that come from?” Steve stammers.

That comment finally makes Eddie turn around only to find Steve staring at him, jaw slacked and cheeks tickled pink. And well, isn’t that interesting.

Eddie grins as he takes a step closer to Steve, head cocked to the side. “Didn’t you know? I ain’t from around here.” He’s really laying the accent on thick this time, just to see how Steve will react.

It pays off beautifully because Steve just stares at him again, his face turning an even deeper shade of pink that contrast with the tight yellow t-shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with giddiness at the sudden power he’s holding over Steve, making him all flustered like this.

God, he really shouldn’t be flirting with his very-much-straight crush but it just feels so good.

“Where- where are you from then?” Steve clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Tennessee, baby. Born ’n raised.”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, does it a couple of times actually, like he’s a goddamn guppy. It’s, frankly, adorable and Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. He lowers his gaze, his hands moving through the air like he’s unsure what to do with that.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna talk to Robin for a sec. Be right back, okay?”

Eddie watches as Steve disappears in between the kids, sees how he frantically talks to Robin before dragging her upstairs, clearly in need some alone time.

Huh. Weird.

-xxx-

Eddie comes clean about his roots to the rest of his friends a couple days later and to his surprise, no one really seems to bat an eye. Sure, there are few laughs here and there but it’s never bad. A couple of questions (mostly from El) about where he grew up and that’s that.

Or so he thinks.

Because he also told Steve, Robin and Nancy about the fact that there’s a country bar just a couple miles from Hawkins and that he’s being going there almost every week just to feel a little at home again. And now, they obviously want to come with.

Eddie’s feeling slightly nervous about it - this is still on a whole other level than just wearing one of Wayne’s flannels and bringing out his drawl every once in a while. This is about who he is, how he was raised, and he’s not really sure how things’ll go down if his friends react weirdly about it.

Pat is surprised to say the least when Eddie strolls into the Off-Road next Wednesday with Robin, Nancy and Steve in tow. Robin swore up and down that they should dress the part even though Eddie told her it wasn’t necessary, but there they are anyway, plaid shirts and all.

It’s slightly embarrassing to be honest, but Robin seems to enjoy making him suffer (well, that was until Nancy took off her plaid shirt and tied it around her waist to show off her tight black dress underneath and Robin almost had an aneurysm. Ha, how’s that for payback?). And besides, Steve’s looking unfairly hot in that light blue flannel so who’s Eddie to complain?

“Well, well, well. Looks like you got some friends after all, Ed.” Pat grins. “Welcome y’all.”

After Eddie introduces everyone, Robin starts talking Pat’s ear off, overjoyed with the fact that she’s finally meeting another queer woman, asking her all kinds of questions about growing up queer and how she met Tish. Eddie smiles, feeling happy for his friend.

On the other side of the bar, Steve and Nancy are hunched over the jukebox, arguing about the next song to play.

“Is that him?” Tish asks as she puts down his beer - Eddie figures he might as well take advantage of the fact that Nancy’s driving tonight. She nods to where Steve is clearly losing the argument with Nancy. The way he’s bending over the jukebox in those tight Levi’s is making his ass look insane and Eddie lets out a strangled sound.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

Tish lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. You’re screwed.”

“Why, geez. Thanks for that boost of confidence, Tish.”

Tish just winks at him and disappears back into the kitchen. Eddie just sits and sulks for a bit, head rocking along to the song that Nancy picked out until Robin suddenly slides into view, eyes filled with mischief that Eddie doesn’t care for one bit.

“So… A little birdie told me you’ve been singing Dolly Parton songs here on the regular.” Robin says in a sing-song voice.

Damn Pat and her blabber mouth.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “And what about it, Buckley?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you might wanna play a song for us tonight?” Robin asks. She clasps her hands together and pouts when Eddie rolls his eyes at her. “Please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“Well… I can’t really say. Not yet anyway.” Robin smiles awkwardly. “But I promise you’ll be happy about it once it works out. Please?”

Eddie sighs - he’s never really been able to resist someone begging and he’s not gonna start now. He finishes his beer in one swig and makes his way over to the stage, taking the now-familiar acoustic guitar from the wall.

His friends sit down at a table close to the stage, staring at him with eager excitement as Eddie tries to think of a song to play. He feels strangely nervous. They had seen him play before, been to a few of Corroded Coffin gigs and he even sang the Beatles’ Blackbird for Nancy’s birthday but this still feels scarier, more intimate.

And the thing is, he can’t really go with one of the songs he played her before because one wrong look in Steve’s direction and he’d be fucked for life. Or even worse, a love song - that’d make for a real awkward evening. So, he finally settles on a song that’s neither of those, but still a song that’s very close to his heart.

“Back through the years, I go wonderin’ once again. Back to the seasons of my youth…” Eddie sings softly, though his drawl rolls out of him with full force.

He can’t help it, it’s the only way he knows how to sing this song because it’s the way his momma sang it to him every night before going to bed. Tucking him in tightly underneath the duvet, covering his face with kisses until he couldn’t stop giggling. Her voice soft and warm as she sang him to sleep.

“There were rags of many colors, every piece was small. And I didn’t have a coat and it was way down in the fall. Mama sewed the rags together, sewin’ every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors, that I was so proud of.”

He thinks of Wayne. Thinks of the clothes Wayne gave him while growing up. How he wore them to school with pride, excited to have clothes to call his own. To have a home and someone taking care of him, not because Wayne had to but because he wanted to.

“So with patches on my britches and in holes in both my shoes, in my coat of many colors, I hurried off to school. Just to find the others laughing and are making of fun of me, in my coat of many colors my mama made for me.”

Thinks of his classmates laughing at his accent, at the way he dressed, at his amazement of seeing snow for the very first time. Remembers going home to Wayne with tears in his eyes, stuffing his plaid shirts into the deepest corner of his closet and trading it for plain black tees instead. Remembers staying up late when Wayne was at work to practice his speech pattern by watching old tv-shows and repeating the lines.

Looks up at his friends. Realizes how he’s showcasing all those parts he hid away for years and is for once, rewarded for it. They’re listening intently, proud smiles on their faces. Nancy and Robin are leaning against each other, their fingers finding their way to one another.

Glances over at Steve, whose hands are folded underneath his chin as he looks at Eddie with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and almost like honey underneath the warm ceiling lights of the bar. He barely blinks, eyes glued to Eddie and Eddie only. It’s a bit distracting, if Eddie’s being honest. He feels his cheeks heat up and he almost misses a chord at one point, realizing then and there why he didn’t pick a love song in the first place.

He needs to sing, not melt into a puddle of goo underneath Steve’s gaze, goddammit.

“Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be. In my coat of many colors, my mama made for me. Made just for me…”

The song softly fades away and Eddie mumbles a quick thanks into the microphone as his friends and the rest of the the bar burst out into applause. He shuffles over to the table where he’s met with Robin and Nancy beaming at him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“That was so good.” Nancy gushes.

“Yeah, it was amazing! You should switch music genres, if I’m honest.” Robin nods. “Change Corroded Coffin’s name into Corroded Cowboy or something.”

Eddie chuckles. “Not sure if the guys are gonna like that. But thanks, girls. Means a lot.”

Steve stays strangely quiet in between Robin and Nancy’s stream of compliments, just fiddling with the coaster in between his fingers. It’s not until Nancy drags Robin to the dance floor when an upbeat song starts playing and Eddie slides into one of the empty seats they left behind, that Steve speaks up.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?”

He says it so softly that Eddie can barely hear him over the bluegrass music on the speakers. Still, it’s enough for Eddie’s cheeks to flush pink.

“Thanks.” Eddie replies, ducking his head to prevent Steve from seeing his flushed face.

“Seriously, man.” Steve says. “Think about Robin said. I mean, I love hearing you sing and scream about the world’s injustices with Corroded Coffin as much as the next person but…”

Eddie’s heart starts beating out of his chest because holy fuck, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing.

“But these songs seem to come so natural to you, y’know?” Steve glances up to meet Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You make it seem so…”

“Easy?” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles and there’s something in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher. A secret that only Steve seems to know. “Yeah, exactly. Easy.”

Eddie feels the flush on his face deepen underneath Steve’s gaze and he needs a way out before he starts doing something incredibly stupid like drag him to the bathroom just to see what happens when he calls Steve darlin’.

“You want a refill?” Eddie says quickly, gesturing towards the empty beer bottle on the table. “My treat.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

The sound of his own name rolling off Steve’s tongue almost makes Eddie stumbles as he stands up makes his way towards the bar. Smooth, Munson, real fuckin’ smooth.

“Two beers please.” Eddie tells Pat, drumming his ring-adorned hands on the faded wood of the bar.

“Here ya go.” Pat says, handing him the drinks. Eddie’s about to turn back, when she stops him. “Ed, I don’t mean to mess with your head or anythin’… But are ya sure that boy’s straight?”

Eddie snorts. “What’d you mean? ‘Course he is.”

“Well, I won’t be so sure about that, kiddo.” Pat says with a knowing smile. “I’ve been seein’ the way he looks at you tonight and well… let’s just say it’s the same way I look at Tish every morning I wake up next to her.”

Eddie looks up to where Steve’s chatting with Jack, one of the older regulars who’s an actually banjo player in his spare time. He just watches them for a minute, a soft smile playing around his lips, the one he always gets when he’s looking at Steve.

Steve looks up and their eyes meet, a bright smile appearing on his face as he wiggles his hands in the air to wave at Eddie. He seems so happy and he’s never looked more beautiful.

Christ, Eddie’s so in love with him.

“That. That look right there. No one looks at their platonic friend like that. Not when there are other feelings involved.” Pat says firmly. “You might wanna start re-thinkin’ this whole situation, Ed.” She adds cryptically and returns to where she’s drying off another glass.

A tingly feeling spreads all over Eddie’s body, a shiver running up his spine. It should feel nice, it does feel nice, but at the same time Eddie knows it’s actually the worst feeling in the world.

Hope.

tag list:

@solosnail @gothbat99 @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @henderdads @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinisthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @magpiemuseum @mightbeasleep @maya-custodios-dionach @theokatz @this-earlobe-is-naked

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #this one got away from me #i got cursed by munson family feels as i often do #also sorry to everyone i tried to tag but somehow failed to do so??#really dunno what happened there #alice's writing adventures

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cruesuffix · 2 months

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so i made this blog for the sole reason of a silly idea i had, which is:

ranking mötley crüe outfits because we get bored sometimes!!

to start: this photo

let’s start with mick:

- i love this era of mick btw (can be said about every era)

-the pants are cute ngl, like i think he really liked these cause i have a couple more pics of him wearing them. 7/10 (yo wait i’m looking at the pic again, wtf is that white stuff near his dick…i really hope he didn’t rip those jeans…)

- THE SHOES idc what anyone says those shoes are a serve frfr‼️ i don’t think he’s worn these ones a lot (imo he should of these are so cute) 8/10

-the leather jacket is nothing special imo, like very stock standard looking jacket it’s getting a 5/10

-the scarf…i’m beefing. like we could have gotten a nice chest pic right there and the old man is busy trying to be “modest”, SHOW CHEST OLD MAN 2/10

- which brings us to the shirt, very conveniently buttoned the last two buttons but won’t show us chest, like my guy tommy’s right next to you showing off his tits and here you are- you know what the shirt is still nice so i’ll give it a 6.5/10

mick altogether has a score of: 8/10

next up is tommy:

- ok i can’t exactly see his pants, but i’m pretty sure his has tassels on them, and i’m a sucker for tassels, so that’s an 8/10

- i can’t see the belt he has on so it’s getting a 3/10 sorry tommy nobody can see that

- the shirt (practically half off anyways) will get a 7/10 because you’re not a coward and will show us chest for free (unlike some people >:/)

- once again the leather jacket is the least important part of this outfit it’s getting a 3.5/10 (still more important than that nonexistent belt though)

-the earrings are a plus though, it will get a 6.6/10 they’re helping him serve (not like he needs the help)

so tommy’s outfit will give him: 7.4/10

now onto vince:

- even though we can’t really see the pants, the small part of his foot the camera captured tells us he’s also wearing leather pants…nothing special so 5/10

-he’s actually wearing sneakers, which he’s worn since like probably ‘82 or something like that, which i find funny compared to some of the things he’s worn…i’ll give that a 6/10 for the humour value

- of course, he’s only wearing a leather jacket but i’ll give him a 7/10 for the audacity…we need to start taking notes people (*cough mick *cough)

- the gloves are a bonus actually like that’s kind of a serve ngl 8/10

so vince’s score will be: 7.9/10

now onto our last subject, nikki:

- first thing you lock onto in this photo is nikki’s jacket. that is a great damn jacket my god. putting nikki in my rob list as we speak actually. i will be giving the jacket a 9/10

- the shirt is ruffled (i’m pretty sure the ruffles aren’t apart of the jacket but i wouldn’t be surprised) i actually like that kind of style…secret time: i loved nikki’s phase where he dressed like a gay pirate that only exclusively listened to queen. so that being said, the shirt gets a 8/10

-the pants are obviously leather and we know how i feel about leather pants…it’s getting a 5/10.

- the shades are actually really nice, i love circle frames you can pry that shit outta my cold dead hands- anyways those get a 7.5/10

- the bass will be counted as a part of the outfit…love it, can’t go wrong with black, especially if it fits the outfit 9/10

to complete the set, nikki gets a 8.2/10 (sorry mick this outfit just eats)

this was so much fun to do, i might do more (if that’s what you guys would like too) anyways that’s been the first instalment of “ranking the crüe fits” with your host lily!

#mötley crüe #tommy lee #nikki sixx #vince neil #mick mars #motley crue #ranking the crüe fits #side note they all look so pretty

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thelibraryghost · 2 months

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A Young Person's Introduction to Early 20th-Century Western Fashion

am i hip with the kids yet

General information Dotschkal, Janna. "1920's." FOUND. October 21, 2016. English Heritage. "Fashion Through History: Episode 3 – 1930s." YouTube. April 16, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of Standardized Sizes in Womens Fashion and Why They FAILED." YouTube. May 16, 2021. Vintagebursche. "100 Years of Classic Menswear - and what we can learn from each decade." YouTube. February 29, 2020. Zebrowska, Karolina. "1920s Fashion Is Not What You Think It Is." YouTube. May 20, 2018.

Accessories Cox, Abby. "Flappers, Y2K, & Capitalism are Why Women "Don't" Have Pockets." YouTube. January 12, 2023. Cox, Abby. "The Disappointing Truth On Why We Don't Wear Hats Anymore..." YouTube. December 18, 2022. Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of the Iconic Cloche Hat: Making 1920s Fashion." YouTube. September 18, 2022. Rudolph, Nicole. "When Hats were Illegal: Sewing a Goth Edwardian Hat." YouTube. February 21, 2021. Sheehan, Sarah. "Neo-Egyptomania." PatternVault. December 31, 2022. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Why Did We Stop Wearing Hats?" YouTube. April 28, 2020.

Cosmetics Banner, Bernadette. "Making and Testing a Victorian Skincare Routine." YouTube. April 8, 2023. English Heritage. "1930s Makeup Tutorial | History Inspired | Feat. Amber Butchart and Rebecca Butterworth." YouTube. December 18, 2018. Holland, Evangeline. "On How to Be Lovely." Edwardian Promenade. April 15, 2010. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Controversial History of Color Season Analysis." YouTube. November 4, 2023.

Fabrics Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of Elastic." YouTube. July 4, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "Wearing Overalls to Boycott Fashion Greedflation? Weird History of 1920." YouTube. March 16, 2024.

Gowns and formal wear Banner, Bernadette. "I Redesigned Mary Poppins' Jolly Holiday Dress Based on REAL Edwardian Lingerie Gowns." YouTube. February 20, 2021. Banner, Bernadette. "I Remade Mary Poppins’ Dress to be Actually Edwardian." YouTube. July 9, 2022. Cox, Abby. "Alexander McQueen & the Patriarchy Problem in Modern Fashion." YouTube. October 20, 2023. Cox, Abby. "What Makes a Gown Haute Couture (like House of Worth) in Victorian and Edwardian Eras?" YouTube. September 19, 2021. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "An Edwardian Woman's Fashion Evolution." YouTube. June 4, 2022. Oakes, Leimomi. "Terminology: what is a lingerie dress or lingerie frock? (and blouse, and skirt)." The Dreamstress. July 21, 2018. Rudolph, Nicole. "Stop Idolizing Coco Chanel: a shocking history of theft." YouTube. January 13, 2024. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Truth about the Fringed Flapper: Making 1920s Evening Dresses." YouTube. November 6, 2022. Vintagebursche. "1920s Theme Party - How to dress." YouTube. December 9, 2023. Zebrowska, Karolina. "1920s Fashion Encyclopedia, Pt 1: Daywear." YouTube. November 27, 2019.

Hair care and styling Banner, Bernadette. "I Tried Following a Real Edwardian Hair Care Routine." YouTube. May 12, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "Getting Dressed in the Edwardian Era / Gibson Girl Hairstyle Tutorial." YouTube. June 12, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "Titanic-era Hair Tutorial // Getting Dressed in the 1910's." YouTube.September 4, 2020. SnappyDragon. "Historical hair myths debunked : How often should you wash your hair—daily shampoo or no shampoo?" YouTube. August 12, 2022. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Weird Edwardian Beauty Tips." YouTube. February 11, 2017.

Laundry and starching Banner, Bernadette. "Ok but how did the Edwardians WASH these dresses?" YouTube. August 3, 2022.

Outerwear Cox, Abby. "Athleisure: Destroying Fashion & the Environment." YouTube. January 18, 2024. Rudolph, Nicole. "150 years of Masc Women causing a Moral Panic." YouTube. June 17, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of Jeans, T-shirts, and Hoodies: Time Travel 101." YouTube. March 20, 2022. Zebrowska, Karolina. "SPRING/SUMMER FASHION TRENDS REVIEW but it's 1936 (ft. original fabric samples!)." YouTube. April 22, 2022.

Shoes Rudolph, Nicole. "I Made Witchy Edwardian Shoes by Hand!" YouTube. March 14, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "Making 100 year old Comfy Slippers: Free Pattern!" YouTube. December 30, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Myth of Tiny Feet "Back Then"." YouTube. September 26, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "The True History of Stiletto Heels : the battle between Ferragamo and Dior." YouTube. August 26, 2023. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Why Is No One Talking About 1930s Shoes?" YouTube. September 15, 2020.

Undergarments Banner, Bernadette. "1903 Patented Bustle Pad Reconstruction." YouTube. June 8, 2019. Banner, Bernadette. "Achieving That Classic Edwardian Shape: Reconstructing a 1902 Bust Bodice." YouTube. April 16, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "So What are Guimpes Anyway? // Examining Antique Edwardian Guimpes." YouTube. August 21, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "They Wore Corsets in the 1920's?!" YouTube. January 29, 2022. Rudolph, Nicole. "Did Brassieres End the Corset?" YouTube. February 28, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "Dressing in Edwardian Clothing: Undergarments and Layers of 1907." YouTube. November 1, 2020. Rudolph, Nicole. "How Flappers got their Figure: the 1920s Silhouette." YouTube. July 10, 2022. SnappyDragon. "How pin-up photos fooled dress history : the making and marketing of lingerie pictures." YouTube. April 1, 2023.

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ladykailitha · 11 months

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Star Child Part 15

So, I am procrastinating writing the ending. Because I love this story so much I don’t want it end. But I also have so so many other stories waiting to be written...

Steve gets more closure and huge settlement.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Steve was back in LA and he loathed it. He knew he couldn’t stay on tour with Corroded Coffin, but he hated being away from Eddie. From all the Corroded Coffin members, if he was being honest.

But they were close to a deal with the label and then Steve could get actually writing. Real music. Music he always wanted to do. He wanted to cut his hair and get more tattoos. He wanted to wear what he wanted and not be pigeonholed into a certain look. He wanted to be able to go out in ripped jeans and a band shirt and not have TMZ talk about his ‘decline’.

But for the moment, all he could do was FaceTime his boyfriend and his band and chat with Robin. A Robin who was nourishing her own budding romance over FaceTime.

He was about to claw his hair out from cabin fever, so he called up Max and Lucas and went for a drive.

He went out to his favorite bakery for cinnamon rolls and good coffee. None of this fancy over priced stuff that everywhere else charged.

They sat out on the terrace and ate while Max and Lucas talked about planning their wedding.

“Please tell me you aren’t having it LA,” Steve begged. “You know this town is overpriced everything.”

Max blushed. “Actually we were thinking of going back to Indiana. Have the reception at Hopper’s Bar. Low key, you know?”

“That sounds amazing!” Steve said. “And have you thought about where you want to go for your honeymoon?”

Lucas opened his mouth to answer when someone called out Steve’s name.

Steve frowned and looked around. That’s when he spotted her. He turned to Max. “Any chance you can shoot me to get me out of this?”

Max grinned. “Not a chance. Eddie would kill me.”

Steve sighed and turned toward the person that had called out to him.

“Nancy Wheeler,” he said bitterly. “As I live and breath.”

She turned a bit and Steve wanted to curl up into a little ball shrivel up into nothing. Jonathan was with her.

Yup. Steve was in hell.

They walked over to the table. “Nancy, Jonathan these are my bodyguards, Max and Lucas. Guys, these are my exes. My ex-girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and my ex-bandmate Jonathan Byers.”

Both Jonathan and Nancy had the decency to wince.

“And despite what the news outlets said,” Steve continued. “She did in fact cheat on me with him. So you guys finally tie the knot or is she still holding out on you?”

Jonathan stepped in front Nancy and barked, “Hey!”

“Oh she is still holding out on you!” Steve said, voice dripping with disdain. “You guys have been together for what? Eight years now? And still no rings, no wedding bells, no martial bliss. I’m starting to think dodged one hell of a bullet.”

He stood up and threw money down on the table for the barista. Max and Lucas were on their feet in a heartbeat.

“We just wanted to talk,” Nancy said gently.

“About what?” Steve asked. “About how much what you did to me ruined my life? About how the two of you got off scot free and I had to face question after question about your relationship for months? You swan into my life again just as I get happy and I have to wonder how much of this is a coincidence and how much of this is a publicity stunt.”

“Hey, man,” Jonathan growled. “Like she said, we just wanted to see you and congratulate you on coming out.”

Nancy wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at the ground. Steve raised an eyebrow and even Jonathan looked down at her in shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jonathan growled. “First you tell me that you broke up with Steve before we had sex. And kept to that story for years even after Dustin let it slip that that wasn’t the case. And now you’re telling me that this is a PR stunt? What the hell Nancy? What did he do to you that made you this pissed at him?”

Nancy looked up and stomped her foot angrily.

Steve cocked his head. “Oh. You didn’t tell him.” A slow smile crept on his face as he realized the absolute damage he could do in that moment.

“Don’t you dare speak her name!” Nancy snarled.

“I don’t have to, though, do I?” Steve said. He turned to Jonathan. “You remember the pool accident a year into our first tour as The Kings, right?”

“She blames you for Barb’s death?” Jonathan asked, rocking his head back in confusion. “That was an accident. She slipped by the pool’s edge and hit her head. All the outlets reported that even if you guys had been on hand, she still would have died from the head wound.”

Steve’s smile turned feral. “Oh it’s way more than that. You see she wasn’t supposed to be there that night. It was just supposed to be me and Nancy. But she had to put her nose where it didn’t belong. So while Nancy and I were having sex for the first time, she was snooping around my house and my pool, trying to prove...something. Hell if I know.”

“She thought you were gay,” Nancy said to her feet.

Steve tilted his head and licked his lower lip. “And there you have it. Nancy blames me because she still thinks Barbara Holland was right about me. And if I had ‘owned’ up to it, she would still be alive.” He leaned in close. “But she wasn’t. I’m not gay. I’m bisexual and I don’t need validation from you.”

He turned to walk away when Nancy shouted, “Why do you get to be happy and I don’t?”

Steve stopped and looked at her in utter shock. “Because I paid my penance in the spiral I found myself in afterwards. I got therapy. I moved on. You should too.”

“Steve,” Jonathan began. “I am sorry. For role I played in all this, wittingly or not. And I am happy for you. For coming out. For finding someone who is over the moon for you.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, man.”

He walked away, feeling lighter than he had in years.

Steve had continued to do talk shows and radio shows talking about his coming out and the abuses he had suffered at the hands of his parents, his former manager, and the record label.

It was Monday again before Steve got the call from Erica.

“Steve!” she greeted warmly. “The label has offered a huge settlement to make it go away.”

Steve licked his lips. “How much are we talking about?”

“A three quarters of a billion dollars,” Erica replied, a feral grin evident in her voice.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, but why?”

Erica giggled. “They are already hemorrhaging artists and management. They’re hoping that if they pay you enough, it’ll stop the problem and they can go back to whatever the fuck it was they were doing before all this came out.”

“But they won’t be able to, will they?” he asked chewing nervously on his lower lip.

“No,” she said firmly. “I have also turned the blackmailing and abuse over to the LA county DAs office.”

“And they’ll actually do something?” Steve asked timidly. These guys at the record label weren’t small fry. They were men of importance and that never bode well for people like Steve.

“They will,” Erica said with another of her grins, “if Samuel Hayward knows what’s good for him. He might find himself sleeping on the sofa if he doesn’t.”

Steve huffed out a surprised laugh. “You are truly a force to be reckoned with, Erica Hayward.”

“And don’t you ever forget it, Steve Harrington.”

To say Steve was pleased that Corroded Coffin’s label Thacher Records signed him a alternative rock artist, would have been an understatement. Of the decade.

Between Erica and Robin, Steve deal was the best it could possibly be and he was excited to enter the studio for the first time since he started performing.

He pulled out all his song notebooks and all his composing notebooks and got to work. He founds some real gems amongst the dross and worked them together.

Soon he had five songs that he was really proud of and couldn’t wait to show the producer, Sam Owens.

He was just waiting to hear back on his thoughts.

Steve was so excited that he wasn’t watching where he was going and ran into someone coming out of the studio.

“Shit,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re Steve Harrington, right?” the very British voice asked.

Steve looked up to see Luke Spiller standing there. “Uh, yeah...that’s me.”

“I really loved the metal arrangement of our song,” Luke said. “And if you decide to ever get away from pop crap, have your agent give our agent a call.”

Steve huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah. That would be amazing. I’m actually working on a alt rock album right now. So if you’re in town for a bit, I’d love to work with you.”

“Killer!” Luke said. “Keep in touch, darling.”

He walked off with a swagger in his step that Steve only wished he had. He immediately pulled out his phone.

“Dustin,” Steve whispered into his phone. “Do you know how to get in touch with The Struts agent would you?”

“Uh...” Dustin replied. “I mean, I guess, theoretically. Why?”

Steve started jumping up and down, “Luke Spiller wants to do a collab with me!”

“Holy shit!” Dustin said. “When did this happen?”

“Like just now,” Steve squealed with delight.

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “I’ll get right on that. I’ll let you know the details when I get them.”

“You are the best, Henderson!” Steve said.

“Only because you deserve the best, Stevie,” Dustin said, a smile in his voice.

Steve’s excitement level had entered the stratosphere. He was going to collaborate with The Struts and Corroded Coffin.

Pinch him, he must be dreaming.

***

Part 16

Tag List:

@bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @localgaydisaster @bookbinderbitch

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

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hauntedbubbles · 1 month

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They're so sassy with it 🤣🤣🤣

Graves: Watch your ass down there Soap: Aye...I'll be watchin' somebody's arse doon ther'👀 Ghost: Fuckin' 'ell

@atombonniebaby here with my secondary blog...wanted to give my cod content it's own home... HantedBubbles = SoapGhost 🧼💀

I'm also doing a one shot, where Soap didn't get the birthday he had planned, and the boys decide to drop in, unannounced to cheer him up. (or Price has the kids for the weekend)

So...I wrote a bit where Ghost is bribed into getting the above outfit when they're out getting supplies 🤣

Have a read 👇🏼 encourage me to finish it 🙌🏼

"You seen this?" Gaz holds up a t-shirt, a mix of black and neon pinks. "It's got a skull."

He should hate it. He knows he should. It's garish and loud and everything he'd usually scoff at. But fuck it all, he sorta loves it? "It's not the worst thing you Muppets have shown me..."

"With them grey jeans and this..." Gaz hands him a light grey garment, a jacket by the looks of it, trendier than he'd ever have chosen for himself. The arms look like they'd cut off circulation to his hands if he flexed too hard. "I think it could work."

"Go on, son, no point speculating, go try ‘em on." Price shoos him in the direction of the changing rooms.

He could complain or try to argue his case, but he knows this is one of those battles he won't win. With a heady sigh he makes his way to an empty cubicle, which is hardly big enough to house a fucking toddler... never mind his 6”3’ arse.

After what felt like the warm-up session from his workouts (and an hour of swearing at buttons), Ghost managed to wrestle himself into a pair of jeans that actually fit him (if you don't look down past his shins) They were just long enough that his boots might reach ‘em. (And spare him the trouble of looking a right tosser.)

They was...a little hugging. The soft, light grey denim, a far cry from his usual heavy blue work jeans and cargos... He almost hates them too, wants to, but even he can admit, his legs looked mint in ‘em, he turned then, to see how they look in the back and— yeah...not on their life... this ain’t ‘appenin’—

"You alive in there?” Price, king-of-choosing-his-moments, knocked on the door.

Fuck! The button's stuck!..."Ye...yeah..." He struggled to breathe out, trying to keep quiet while fat fingers fumbled with the bastard button. "Tha’s it! I-I ain't buyin' 'nout from 'ere— fuckin' ’ell!”

"Simon, unlock it, yeah?”

If that fucker laughed he'd kill him. With a defeated sigh, Ghost opened the door just enough for Price to slide inside the tiny space... He looks down at the captain and debates if he has enough room to hide the body.

“Just help us get these off, yeah? Fuckin' things are stuck!”

"Reign it in...take a breath." He had to give it to the Captain, that smile that nearly broke, stayed away. "They ain't bad on ya, what's the matter?”

He's more caked up than the fucking bakery isle in this here Big Tesco is what's the fucking matter. "They ain't practical, Captain. Soft as shit fabric'll fall apart after a few washes."

"Fifty quid..." Price smiled, arms crossed and smug as he opened the door. "And I'll buy 'em for ya?”

"Why?” Ghost blurted out. "I ain't got anywhere to wear 'em!"

"Because I remember the crazy shit you used to wear back in the day, and this is bloody tame... Why not let Simon have this one, eh?”

He hated the way his cheeks burned hotter... but fifty quid? Outta the Captains pocket? Fuckin' hell. "A'right, fine! But on the small chance I croak it t’night and end up a real fuckin' ghost lookin' like a knob...I'm haunting ya!”

Price laughed at that, clapping him on the shoulder. "That sounds like a yes?"

"A begrudging one."

"Then get to it. We 'aven't got all day."

Bastard.

Ghost double knotted his laces. Nothing pinched, everything fitted, felt comfortable. Fuck. He stood on a deep breath and turned to the ridiculously big mirror and tugged the scarf back down around his neck, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck's sake..."

The skull T-shirt clung a little tighter than he expected. Not quite a second skin, but enough to be noticeable. These clothes were... new and different, and he doesn't know how to process how that made him feel.

He was the kind of guy that could blend into any crowd, could fade into the background and be unnoticed. He liked being invisible. Hated being in the spotlight.

The jeans made him feel like an asshole.

The shirt made him look like a twat.

And yet, who he found staring back in the mirror was a man that could pass for an everyday bloke. One who didn't live on the fringes of society, one who hadn't done the things he had. This was a guy who could be content curled up on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea. The kind of man that had roots, who had friends and family that stood by him...had his back.

Simon stepped out of that cubicle, feeling more naked than he had when he'd stripped down. Yet, a strange sense of security washed over him as he faced his commanding officer with an apprehensive stare.

Price had that stupid, dopey grin plastered on his face, just like when he was congratulating his troops on a job well done.

"There he is," Price whispered as he reached up to ruffle his hair, and he batted the hand away, scowling as he ducked out of the changing room.

"Fuckin' hell, sir..."

"Garrick...I'm warnin' ya..." he growled, shoving the smaller man towards the exit of the store. "Not another fuckin' word."

#If you guys have seen Barry and Sam's banter on lives...I just imagine that's how the whole team are!#john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghost mw2 #modern warfare #cod ghost #call of duty mwii #kyle gaz garrick #ghost riley #cod modern warfare #mw2 #captain price #john price #mw3 #mw2 fanfic #mw3 fanfic #warzone screens

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cressthebest · 2 months

Text

Art Heist, Baby! thoughts pt. 10

chapter 28:

this is the heist chapter, so i’m just gonna make it its own post. it will be too long otherwise

1. james thinks that falling in love with regulus is the most exciting thing he’s ever done- more so than the literal heist. they’re so in love

2. hell yeaaaah babey! they even have the clothes sharing trope. regulus looks so small in james’ big t-shirt. fuck yeah

3. they’re all nervous and getting tea in the kitchen <3 they all get along and love each other. do NONE of them have melatonin tho??? babes, medically force yourself to sleep atp

4. peter swears barty’s snoring is so loud there is two people in there. 👀 evan perhaps??

5. i love mary and lily’s friendship so much. like, i love their background friendship in this fic so much. like, i cannot even use words to express how much i love it

6. remus and james fell in love with stars and it’s the most important thing about the heist to them. wait. hold up. i just.

7. “Anyone would be lucky to marry you, James Potter. Plus, I didn’t really think Regulus was the wear your t-shirt, fall asleep in your lap, dance on countertops, type either and yet, here he is.” sobbing. literally sobbing.

8. remus and james being best freinds in this fic instead of the typical sirius and james freindship is healing in ways i didn’t think would need healing. i am healed. they are forever going to be in each others lives.

9. sirius and james matching 😭😭😭. but it also raises the question of what the others are wearing. jeans and blouses? night clothes? leggings?

10. tensions are so high. i feel like i need to be clutching my pearls and holding my breath. this is so stressful. i’m so worried something will go horribly wrong. so stressed

11. i’m also concerned why they are worried about fingerprints but aren’t wearing gloves

12. oh good, they’re wearing gloves actually

13. i love that part of the way sirius’ has his pure blood character show in here is by the way he can tell the price, quality, painter, and style of a painting just by looking at it

14. i love that after the first wolfstar kiss remus got back to james and told him everything. and i love that sirius and james are bringing this up during the heist when their LITERAL LIVES ARE ON THE LINE

15. oh shit there’s footsteps. i’m so worried for sirius and james

16. thank FUCKING GOD THEY ALL MADE IT OUT ALIVE AND UNSCATHED AND SAFE OH GOD I WAS SO SCARED OH MY GODDDDDD

17. still getting a bit of a rosekiller vibe here…

18. shit fuck no shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck shit fuck holy fucking shit there’s police and sirens and holy fucking shit shit shit. stop no, i had such high hopes

19. oh no james thinking that sirius tipped the police off. (but i’m getting a bit of a feeling that this will be parallel to the peter betrayal moments in canon)

20. (not barty letting out a maniacal laugh during a fucking car chase. he’s not helping the sociopath claims)

21. not pandora playing the euphemia card.

22. also, once again, i would like to make a callback to my previous thoughts on point number 18. still thinking that. very worried.

23. god, not james saying i love you to regulus while the police have opened fire on him. i’m so worried. god.

24. it will be fine tho. there’s 10 chapters left. and james isn’t the one who dies. i will be fine.

25. james was shot 😳

26. and they’re all on the plane. they survived. end of chapter. thank fucking god.

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eddies-house · 10 months

Text

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Four - Roadkill

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - A moody car ride and muddled emotions.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.9K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, mentions of blood, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I put my soul into this chapter like I just wanted everything to be right and for things to add up. Anyway, I'm so glad to finally share it as we reveal more about their story.

Masterlist

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Hawkins High - English Class, Sophomore Year

The clock ticked by tauntingly slowly, five minutes feeling like an eternity in the stale classroom flooded with white and beige, each desk meticulously placed in their respective rows, all uniform and not one out of line as each student occupied their own. A pop quiz rested in front of every anxious student, Mrs. O’Donnell being overly unfair in springing the assignment on everyone after only going over the unit one time in the span of fifteen minutes.

Only the sound of pencils gliding across paper and the ticking of the clock were evident among the prison-like room. Just outside of the window to your right was a perfect view of the large oak tree you’d claimed as your lunch spot. Though Steve had asked you to sit with him and his friends at lunch, you declined. The mere idea of having to face all of those preppy and popular kids was terrifying and you’d rather enjoy your lunch in solitude. Steve seemed like a promising friend the deeper you got into highschool but you’d settle for sitting with him in class if it meant you could avoid the jocks he hung out with.

Stomach grumbling, you only prayed that the next two class periods would go by faster than the first period had been dragging along. It was only a week into sophomore year and you were already counting the days until summer. You thought you’d be able to avoid Mrs. O’Donnell’s dreaded English class throughout all four years but sadly in only your second year you were cursed with her name on your schedule. Everyone knew her class was the one to dodge if at all possible.

Marking your answer to the last question on the quiz, you bashfully stood to set it on Mrs. O’Donnell’s desk, noting the way she glared at you before heading back to your desk as quietly as you could. There was no pleasing the woman, she was alway miserable. Being one of the shyest students in the class, she still made it known that not even you were safe from her wrath. Just as you reached into your bag to retrieve your copy of Of Mice & Men which was assigned at the very beginning of the week, the classroom door swung open, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Donnell!” A boy’s voice sang as he sauntered through the door, skateboard in hand and backpack in rough condition barely hanging onto his lanky shoulder. It was the same boy from the ice cream social, he was wearing pretty much the same thing, black jeans with noticeable rips and a matching t-shirt with ‘Iron Maiden’ on the front. The chain hanging from his jeans clinked as he walked and his tousled brunette curls swayed with the movement. Eddie, as you recall. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a stop in front of the teacher’s desk, her face displaying a different kind of disdain for the boy in front of her, his dimples still framing his smile regardless.

“Munson, it is not polite to interrupt my class. Where are your manners?” The older woman seemed to gain more wrinkles just by engaging with him.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. You get to experience another glorious year with yours truly.” He had no fear, he was dripping confidence and from the looks of it he didn’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t having it. You were suddenly envious of his charisma, only wishing you could absorb some of the self-assurance he was possessing in the few seconds he had walked in the door.

“I’ll be the judge of that, you’re not on my roster.” O’Donnell suddenly stands, her gaze would intimidate you but Eddie only sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if this wasn’t his first rodeo with her.

“I swear, the office sent me here directly. Call them.” Before she could scold him, he had made his way toward the back of the room, tossing his backpack on the ground next to the empty desk just behind you and slumping into the chair while crossing his arms. So it seemed he was in your grade. Every other guy your age was still struggling with voice cracks and puberty mustaches but he seemed to have a grasp on things and was more mature looking than them. Or maybe he was in another grade and just in a sophomore English class. Whatever the case, he sat right behind you and it made you nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes you question if you tried hard enough on your appearance, wishing you would’ve taken more care in the mirror that morning.

Who were you kidding? Boys didn’t even look your way so what made this one any different? He wasn’t. You were just riling yourself up again only to let yourself down by setting unrealistic expectations. And all within a few seconds, that dream was discarded and you came back to reality.

Only for some reason you dared to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him. Where that sudden bravery came from, you’d never know. But you’d never forget the way his eyelashes casted perfect shadows along his cheeks even in the annoyingly fluorescent lighting of the classroom and the way a dimple peeked out at you as he offered a boyish close mouthed smile, by far the most charming smile you’d ever seen. It happened so quickly you started to question if you were daydreaming.

—

Present Day

There are a lot of things to focus on in Eddie’s van. The big gulp cup in his cup holder filled a third of the way with change, food wrappers littering the floor which he must have shoved away to make room, a few cassettes among the trash—who used cassettes anymore? There was a car parts catalog on the dashboard, a pair of headphones on top, and next to it a small box of unopened guitar strings. Among the many things happening visually in the van, it was all very Eddie from what you currently knew about him against your will. Even the lingering smells screamed his name, the hint of cigarettes, a little bit of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror, a tinge of skunk-like bitterness, and the spice from his cologne.

It was silent, not even the radio he famously blared at high volumes playing, only the sound of the engine rumbling. You didn’t dare look to your left at him, embarrassment seeping through your pores from earlier. There was no way you would talk about being that vulnerable in front of Eddie Munson out of all people. Hell, you weren’t even sure why you were riding in the passenger seat of his van and had you been coherent enough when he guided you to sit, you would’ve refused and walked home, paying no mind that it would’ve taken around thirty minutes. Now you were stuck in one of the most uncomfortable positions of your life, riding shotgun in your nemesis’ car and on shaky ground with your best friends. The more you thought about it, Steve couldn’t even look at you when you’d asked if Robin knew about his sneaky endeavors. It was as though you were subject to isolation with no reparations in the foreseeable future.

“Pull over.” You were surprised by how strong your voice had sounded despite how much you’d been crying before.

A glance your way was all you received as you watched him in your peripheral. Why was it that the most common occurrence tonight was to be unresponsive?

“Pull over.” You repeated a bit louder.

Still, he ignored you.

“Pull over or I’m going to jump out.”

The threat was lost on him, earning you no reaction however you took him by surprise when you reached for the handle, pulling and cracking the door open as the pavement beneath zoomed past and the wind sucked the breath out of your lungs, the crisp fall air felt like a punch to the face in contrast to the warm cabin of the van.

“What the fuck!? Do you have a death wish or something!?” Eddie kept a hand on the wheel while simultaneously stretching his arm across you as he reached for the handle to pull it closed but failing in his first attempt. “Shut the damn door!” Unsure of what you were trying to gain from this, you tugged the door toward you with a scoff, Eddie shifting his eyes between you and the road. What would be your next move? You hurl yourself out of a moving van and end up roadkill? It wasn’t a very well thought out plan.

“Just pull over.” You couldn’t stand being trapped within the confines of his van much longer.

Everyone and everything you knew was turning out to be a lie, straight to your face and the pressure was only building up inside. And it all boiled down to one person who happened to be sitting just to your left. “Dammit! Just pull over! I wanna walk!” You shifted, now turned toward him, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned, complete displeasure written on his face.

“Would you quit being such a fucking brat!?” There he was. This is the Eddie you knew of, a complete contrast to the one that had emerged earlier. He was unrecognizable as he played the part of the neutral party between you and Steve. And he had no right either, you would be sure he knew that.

“Then fucking pull over!”

“We’re almost there, then you can do whatever the hell you want. See if I give a shit.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, a pinky tapping against it as he seemed to try and keep himself calm.

“You don’t even know where I live. Let me out. Right here, pull over.” It was a constant battle, neither of you having the slightest urge to just give it up although it looked like you were going to win when the brakes screeched, the van halting to a stop in the middle of the road. You were at a bend with nothing but forest on either side so you could either step out with your pride, also bearing the possibility of becoming a news headline in the morning: ‘Girl found dead on side of the road’, or you could let him win this one and make it home in one piece.

“Go on then. You wanted to walk? Have at it.” Eddie gestures to the open road, very clearly unwalkable from this point. You remained silent, contemplating your options. “What? I give you what you want and it's still not enough?” He huffs in annoyance, head shaking.

“You did that on purpose.” You mumble, barely audible but he catches it anyway.

“Did what? Drive you home so you wouldn’t strangle Harrington?” He was very clearly trying to push your buttons and he was going to end up being the one strangled if he kept it up.

“You know what?” The sound of your seatbelt clicking alerted him that you were about to hop out, your hand reaching for the door. “You want me to be roadkill so bad? Fine.” And with that you stepped out into the crisp fall air, a light sprinkling of rain painting your skin as you stomped down the road.

The van’s engine didn’t rumble which told you he hadn’t sped off yet, most likely watching in victory as you began your trek home. The frigid air started to bite at your skin, your cheeks and nose beginning to hurt and lose feeling. You didn’t get very far when you began to regret leaving the warmth of the van, you just had to pick this battle and now it seemed you lost in the end anyway.

It still hadn’t zoomed past you like you envisioned, only the sound of someone running behind you was heard which in all honesty only freaked you out even more. This was the worst case scenario for how the night was supposed to end. Maybe some serial killer had gotten Eddie and now you were their next victim. A new headline flashed in your brain, something along the lines of ‘Young couple found murdered near the woods in Hawkins, Indiana’ and you nearly puked as you began sprinting, the downpour of rain becoming heavier as you did. Lungs on fire, you forced yourself to keep going no matter how ridiculous the thoughts racing through your mind were. Maybe it was the quickest way to get home after all, to imagine you were being hunted for sport the whole time. The nightmare you conjured up quickly came to an end when you slammed into something firm, almost being knocked to the ground only to be stabilized by two hands gripping your arms. Your eyes were shut tight, avoiding whatever fate was awaiting you. Were you being dramatic? Yes, however it couldn’t be helped especially being just next to the woods in nearly pitch black. The basis for a classic horror film.

“Are you crazy!? Get back in the van! You’re gonna get killed out here, you can’t see shit.” Much to your relief just this once, you were happy to open your eyes and find Eddie, out of breath with his curls dripping, a few sticking to his face.

His eyes were more doe like than ever, staring down at you, the headlights from the van barely reaching the two of you allowing you to make out his features. His stare flickered between you and the road urgently. “If a car comes around the corner we’re fucked, LETS GO!” If he had any remaining patience, it was gone because suddenly his arms wrapped around your legs and waist, throwing you over his shoulder without struggle, jogging back to the van as you were left breathless. Ending up tossed over Eddie Munson’s shoulder was the last possible outcome you’d imagined tonight and yet here you were.

“Put me down!” You still protested, delivering a firm smack to his shoulder blade. If he obeyed, you had no plan so you weren’t sure what your motive was here however he continued on without so much as a flinch.

“Oh yeah, look what happened the last time I listened to you. Had to fuckin’ chase you down.” The passenger door was left open from when you took off as you glanced over Eddie’s shoulder.

“You didn’t have to! I could’ve made it home perfectly fine!” You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that but you could sell the lie. In your defense, he took a completely different route than what you had originally walked earlier in the day since you had to stop by the Byers’.

Suddenly you were placed in the passenger seat again, and not very gently either. Eddie’s intense gaze only egged you on, returning the favor as you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah? You sure about that Roadkill?”

You’d had it and there was very little if any fight left in you. Teeth chattering and hair wet, you came to the realization that your clothes were almost completely soaked and before you could huddle in on yourself for warmth, a leather jacket was tossed at you before the passenger door was slammed shut, Eddie quickly returning to the driver’s side, a displeased expression remaining on his features as he shifted into drive.

–

Rain dotted the windshield and other than that and the squeaking of the wipers against the glass, it had been silent. Five minutes had passed but it was easy to mistake it for five hours with how tense the air in the van was. Eddie released a heavy and dramatic breath every so often and if he was searching for a reaction in you, you weren’t interested in partaking. Home wasn’t far, you only needed to endure a couple more minutes in the stuffy but thankfully, warm confines of the vehicle.

Maybe you were delirious, your brain muddled in the events of tonight because Eddie had finally been silent that full five minutes and you stupidly took it upon yourself to engage in further conversation.

“Roadkill? Really?”

The green traffic lights overhead created a glow around him, painting him almost like a picture, a renaissance painting you might even say. If a renaissance painting could include a grumpy metalhead adorned in rings, tattoos, and a demonic t-shirt. So no, not a renaissance painting and yet, you couldn’t find another way to phrase it in your mind. Why?

“Roadkill. That’s all you have to say?” Offense lingered in his tone, his eyes glancing to you briefly.

Your body turned toward the door, even more than it already had been as you watched the scenery race by, deciding to go mute again. There was no civil conversation with him, only snarky comments and full blown arguments.

“Better than Socks.” A smirk graces his lips when you turn to look back over at him and there was no way to tell if it was playful or cynical.

Should you bite and comment back or should you remain ignorant? You’d started it after all. This time he wasn’t the one breaking silence to torture you, it was the other way around and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you yearned to instigate.

“I will not be called ‘Roadkill’ if that’s what you’re getting at.” It was said cruelly however just beneath the surface, if he was intelligent enough to pull at the corners of your gaze with his, he may find a seed planted deep within your depths.

Could it have been that the way he stepped in earlier was in some regard an olive branch? Extended with the means to mend what was previously shattered beyond repair, an intention. No. It couldn’t be, not even in the slightest. Because he was Eddie and you were you, this is how your stories were written and engraved into the margins of the universe. That didn’t mean you didn’t wonder why he had been so tangled up in the ball of yarn that was your life for so long if not to infinitely cause an ache from wounds slashed into your soul years ago.

“I think you’ve definitely been upgraded from Socks to Roadkill.” Though he was snarky there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Hell no. If I’m Roadkill then what are you?” Arms crossed, you shifted to turn your body further toward him, brow raised in expectancy.

“I don’t do nicknames.” It was a short and simple answer and it simply wouldn’t do.

“You can’t just go by Munson, you need some kind of…some kind of earned name for some dumb shit you would do—or have done!” You snap your fingers at him, a smile playing at your lips and he swears he hasn’t seen that kind of smile directed his way in years. It’s enough to bring a flush of pink to his cheeks that he hopes is hidden by the darkness and won’t become evident under the street lights passing by.

“What, like running into the open road in the pitch black during the rain—at a bend in the road, might I add?”

“Well…don’t—don’t even pretend I’ve done even half of the dumb shit you’ve done!” That smile still pulls at your lips uncontrollably and he’s not sure if you’ve given up trying to hold it back or if you’re so beyond tired and delusional that you’ve forgotten who you were talking to. Either way this moment would be burned into his memory, even if it would be the last time you’d offer him the upturn of your lips, even if you were sleep deprived and not in your right mind.

You continue to ramble, searching your brain as he admires to the best of his ability while driving, eyes drifting from you to the road and back. “Like—like the raccoon thing! Yeah you’re Racoon Boy!”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Really? Racoon Boy? That’s the best you can come up with? Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Roadkill.”

His criticism earned a glare from you but not the kind of glare he was so used to receiving from you. This one held some kind of spark if he lingered long enough, large eyes beaming at you if you cared to notice.

“Okay well, a raccoon becomes Roadkill, right?. If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.” You decide.

Eddie doesn’t know why he has butterflies, all he knows is that the way you incorporated him into the phrase is making his palms sweat, just like when he was sixteen. And the fact that you had even put his jacket on was something he never imagined in his wildest dreams. Nevertheless, he keeps his cool.

“And you think I’m gonna stand for being called Roadkill? You’re out of your mind. Try again.” His head shakes in disapproval.

“Oh please, would you rather be called Liar?” Just like that everything reverted back to the way it was, as it intended to be.

“Or Friend Fucker?”

He knew it was too good to be true, the way your eyes crinkled as you grinned just seconds ago, how you teetered on the brink of giggling as you attempted to conjure up a nickname for him, the sole fact that you were even trying to give him a nickname. It was all a facade put on to deliver a blow of karma that he rightfully deserved and though it may not have been a facade on your part, he knew somehow the puppet strings controlled by the universe created this moment to torture him. The air turned eerie, sour almost.

Disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Because you didn’t know how wrong you were about him and yet he kept further providing reasons for you to keep believing it.

Suddenly he’s seventeen in the stairwell of the Harrington’s basement regretting every move made that night. And you were sixteen trying to make sense of it all, asking yourself, why?

And now you were still begging the question, why? Why did Steve have to ruin everything? Why was Eddie still causing destruction even now? After all, he played just as big of a part when you’d seen them both leaving the van, so why did you offer him the courtesy of bestowing a nickname upon him as if you were old friends? As if he hadn’t taken your heart, played with it, made it beat for him all those years ago only to take a dagger to it and leave you bleeding and devoid of the ability to beat for anyone else.

Your apartment came into view, an escape from the toxic atmosphere that you’d tricked yourself into breathing in, under the illusion of sleep deprivation and wounded feelings. This wasn’t some redemption arc for Eddie as you’d begun to imagine in your deliriousness, this was you caving in at a moment of fragility and venturing to the nearest soul in hopes to cling onto some of your sanity. But what you failed to realize in your misconception was that there was not one soul to sympathize with in your agony. As the van came to a stop, you dared to glance over once more. His eyes looked almost black, the absence of sunlight keeping every brown hue hidden in the shadows which only further fed into the idea that he was cold and heartless. And as you exhaled a final time into the void created between two opposing forces, you were hoping that would be the end of it, that he wouldn’t do as he normally did and fabricate a reason to fuel a never ending war. But then again you never had faith in him in the first place.

“I’ve told you. I’m not a liar.” His nostrils flared, ringed hand tightly gripping the steering wheel once again.

“You’re not a liar?”

“Did I stutter?”

“What do you call it then when someone withholds the truth from you? You’re saying that doesn’t make them a liar?”

Your name was muttered under his breath as if it were a curse. “Dammit! When will you just let it go!?” His face contorted in anger, brows furrowed in misery. “Why do you have to fucking hold on to this thing that happened ages ago!? I never once lied to you and you keep trying to throw it back in my face!”

“Never once lied to me, right.” You laughed, however there was no humor behind it.

“Do you know how many times we’ve had this argument? Do you ever think maybe I keep fighting back because you’re wrong?”

“Oh, I’m wrong!? Was I wrong when I caught you and Steve just now in the parking lot? Was I wrong about that too? Was it my imagination when you planted one on Steve? At least I’m not a fucking liar!” Tears welled up in your eyes and you’d never forgive yourself for it but it was inevitable, the anger demanded to be poured from your eyes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I have never once lied to you.” He sucked back his lip as if trying to hold himself back, fist now clenched in his lap.

“Another lie!” You tried to stop them, oh how you tried but the tears began to trail down your cheeks one by one, sucking them back only did so much due to the overflow already gracing your waterline.

Eddie debated digging up the old box in his heart that he locked up and swore off forever, promising to never let another soul touch it. But he was Eddie and he didn’t know how to let others open him up, only knew how to push everything deeper until it was forgotten about and collecting dust. All he could do was what he did best. Shut down and push back. He regretted inheriting even a sliver of the temper his father held.

“Get out.” The demand was met with your wet eyes burning into him as he faced forward, gaze set straight ahead with no sign of meeting yours. His jaw clenched, you could see him swallow. Before you could offer any further comments, he caught you off guard. “Get out. Get the hell out.” His arm was suddenly reaching over you to open the door, his damp curls tickling your cheek briefly until he was scowling at you from the driver’s side once again. You remained sitting, not because you wanted to but because your brain simply refused to cooperate, leaving you staring dumbly at the floor of his van. “Well, I’m not lying this time am I!? Get out!”

The way his voice raised made you wince and you had that gnawing feeling settling in your stomach and your chest. Hands trembling, that random pang of anxiety began to take over and you wanted so badly to run and find some sense of comfort in your little apartment just upstairs but you were frozen. The energy of the confrontation just endured shocked your nervous system and though you’d argued with Eddie before many times, it had to have been the build up throughout the night, the betrayal you’d experienced only adding that much more strain. Everything was spiraling and it was as though a weight too heavy for anyone to carry was placed on your shoulders. And you were left to bear it alone.

Eddie stared expectantly, brow raised though he couldn’t catch your line of sight even if he tried, you were too in your head by this point and it seemed that the contents of the trashed floor was far more interesting however he was able to lower his head to catch the trace of fear—or maybe it wasn’t fear maybe it was loneliness topped off with uneasiness—either way he was able to detect it among your features and the way you were absent from the van, your mouth ajar and hands shaking in fists balled up at your sides. Maybe he’d gone too far? Or at least that was his initial conclusion but it didn’t make much sense seeing as you’d mouthed off to each other several times before and you’d both said things far worse. Whatever the case, he knew he’d be laying on his lumpy mattress tonight wondering what he could’ve done differently.

“Shit.” He mumbles while putting the van in park, undoing his seatbelt and inching the slightest bit closer to you. “You still with me?” It came out shakier than he’d intended, not really having the knowledge of what to do. Sure he knew what he’d need to do for himself for the most part if it were him but comforting others was not something he specialized in. Was it even comfort you needed? He didn’t know, but there was something wrong and your body language was telling him that you were stuck in some kind of a panic.

But before he could even make a decision on how to proceed, you’d snapped out of it right before his eyes, a wobbly breath escaping you before your eyes darted up to his wide ones. He was too close for your liking, and far too close for someone who had just yelled at you to get the hell out. It was frigid, the air from outside stinging your cheeks as the door remained open. In the blink of an eye you were gone, your feet carrying you up the cement stairs of the complex and away from him, his jacket still engulfing your frame, sleeves falling over your hands and slapping against your legs as you scurried. You hadn’t bothered to shut the door in your quick departure, raindrops finding their way onto the fabric of the seat and covering the interior. At the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you momentarily with your head in your hands before you rounded the corner and disappeared. If he never saw his jacket again because it provided you with warmth, well he figured that would be just fine.

“If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.” He muttered with his eyes glued to the ceiling.

—

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Munson, did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, what’re you looking to buy?”

“What? You brought everything?”

“Just about, what’s your poison?”

Eddie rummaged through the little black metal box full of various substances, naming each one aloud to the jock that had spotted him across the living room, the music bumping as he shouted over it. Was his name Ben? Brady? Eddie couldn’t recall and if he’s honest, he didn’t really care. The only time the guy acknowledged his existence was to buy from him at whatever party they happened to be at. This time it was Steve Harrington’s ugly Christmas sweater party, the second one in the making of an annual event. Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those nasty sweaters with bells and tinsel but he certainly had no problem with making money off of the spoiled rich kids who would pay out the ass to pop a pill and let loose for the night. And so he found himself lingering in the dark corner of the living room, awaiting those who would recognize him, giving them their fix in exchange for a fat stack of cash. They seemed pathetic in his eyes, all decorated in their multi patterned sweaters with all kinds of crap dangling off of them, fiending for a high as they kept their interaction with him as minimal as possible. It wasn’t his business though, his business was to sell and collect until his supply ran out and if he thought hard enough about it, both parties were doing the same song and dance of quick exchanges with not a smidge of regard for the other’s presence once the deal was done. That’s just how it was and he wasn’t going to complain so long as he got paid.

So he sold Ben–whatever his name was, a few grams of weed and some ecstasy. That guy would forget Eddie’s existence until the next party. That or until he wanted to buy some more weed from him at school. The guy was relatively mellow with Eddie when alone but once other senior jocks were in the equation they threw every name in the book at him and tried to make his life hell. Key word, tried. Eddie was tough and a few names were nothing, hell even the few times he’d been jumped by them in the school parking lot didn’t phase him. You learn to pick your battles when your dad is the antagonist of your life. That didn’t mean he didn’t lash out every now and then at them, cause he did. He just knew which fights were worth a black eye and bloody knuckles and which ones to surrender on, let them shove him around a little bit, maybe take a kick to the ribs and then move on. The less he struggled against them, the quicker they would get bored and call him a slur before marching off with their chests puffed out.

It was only nine, the night was still young and he had already made enough to sneak a good amount into his Uncle Wayne’s wallet with enough leftover to pay for the week’s groceries. He’d sooner just put the money into his own bank account and transfer it to Wayne’s but his old man was old fashioned and stuck mainly to cash. That cash would usually go toward utilities if Eddie already handled the groceries. By the end of the night he should have made enough of a profit to buy that new part for the van he was fixing up. He’d made a deal with the guy at the junkyard that if he could get it working and get it the hell off his lot that it was his. Sure it was an older model, a little rusty with a funky smell clinging to the interior but he could make anything work and he’d rather drive that than keep borrowing his uncle's pickup truck or hitch a ride with someone. It just wasn’t reliable and he had his own agenda though he’d never tell Wayne exactly what that agenda was. As far as he knew, Eddie was working odd jobs around town, repairing the neighbor’s sink, mowing lawns, fixing cars. It wasn’t a lie–it was just that according to Wayne it generated a suspiciously large income. Eddie always insisted his charm was a contributing factor and the moms up in the fancy neighborhoods would pay him extra for being ‘so sweet’. Which wasn’t a lie either. Those moms knew of his reputation but were reaching the point of their mid-life crisis and it seemed they were willing to do anything for a smidge of excitement while their boring husbands left for a business trip every other week. He never entertained them past telling them how wonderful they looked. But he would never admit outright to his uncle that he had been in contact with Rick who his dad had been involved with before going to prison. Now it seemed at only seventeen he was following the same path however it was to keep food on the table and the strain of all of the financials off of Wayne’s aching back. ‘This is different.’ He’d keep telling himself that but sometimes he’d look in the mirror and his father would be staring right back at him.

Becoming bored with the clientele of the living room corner, he made the decision to migrate to the hall just near the basement door. There was heavy foot traffic and a possibility that he could sell out the rest of his supply in minutes to those desperate enough for a good time. Leaning against the wall, he heard shouts from the basement, a beer pong game with high stakes no doubt. A younger kid, most definitely a freshman shuffled by with six unopened beers clinking together in his arms and without drawing any attention to himself, Eddie snatched the one that was just seconds away from toppling over onto the floor. It went unnoticed as the freshman continued down the hall toward the back door, a satisfying crisp snap filling his ears as he opened the stolen beer. As the fizzy ale met his lips, he was grateful it was cold with condensation collecting on the glass since the house was stuffy and hot despite the contrasting weather outside.

In about ten minutes he’d sold almost everything, people were drawn to him like a moth to flame, knowing he was the go to for anything good. It always sucked trying to get rid of the last of it, which made the night even longer since he just wanted to be done and leave. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and a dip in the Harrington’s pool seemed like heaven right about now even in the freezing cold snow. He was just about ready to give up and head down to the basement to start marketing his product to the rowdy football boys so he could get out of the muggy hallway when he caught someone’s gaze from the opposite end of the hall. The only person he really hoped to see at this dumb party and he was intuitive enough to know that she would show up due to her friendship with King Steve. Before he knew it she was making her way toward him, dodging other teenagers.

You kept your eyes on him throughout the several people in the way, reaching him being your only goal for the moment while Nancy and Robin–the new girl with the pretty blue eyes and freckles–rolled their eyes at your gawking and patiently waited while you wandered away. It was loud but you tuned out everything as you took in his curls, longer than they were last year when you’d first noticed him. He still seemed to be growing it out, brunette locks now covering his ears and a few hanging in his eyes as he bowed his head but still kept his focus on you. You’d seen him just last week at school but you were only now noticing the progress on his hair growth, usually too enamored in his molasses pools of eyes. He wore his standard getup, a black leather jacket, black jeans with a few holes, and some black boots. Maybe it was the single shot you’d taken with Nancy and Robin back in the kitchen but he was looking especially handsome and you feared your heart was going to leap out of your chest right in front of him.

“Thought you swore off parties.” You shouted over the bass vibrating the house.

Shaking the little metal box he held at you, you understood that he was ‘working’.

“Parties are my biggest sellers so I couldn’t really keep my word on that one.”

“Fair enough.” You leaned your shoulder against the same wall he leaned his back on, turned toward him with all of your attention solely on him right now.

“Was just about to get outta here though. I got roughly enough for one last sale, just need to find someone to bite.” Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced around for any takers but still found no success.

“Well, what do you have?” Your innocent eyes stared up at him, your ridiculous Christmas sweater being the only one he actually liked out of the hundreds he had seen that night.

“I don’t sell to children.” He teases. You were only a year younger after all.

“I am not a child! You’re a year older, c’mon! What do you have?” You whined, bouncing on your toes.

“No way, sweetheart. I have the right to refuse service and I’m refusing yours.” A smirk graced his lips as he turned his body toward you, mirroring your stance as you each leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Munson-”

“Nope, closed for business.” Tucking the little metal box under his leather jacket as if to hide it from your view, you playfully shoved at his shoulder.

“I guess I’ll just have to get my weed from some other sketchy guy.” You sighed dramatically.

“Whoa whoa, are you calling me sketchy? I’ll have you know I am probably the least sketchy drug dealer you could hope for.” He showed fake offense in the knitting of his brows and a hand thrown over his chest.

“I dunno, that sounds like something a sketchy drug dealer would say.”

His eyes squinted at you in thought and he was definitely not going to sell you drugs however he could extend you an offer.

“How about…I keep a joint with your name on it on supply and you come get me when you wanna smoke?”

Before you were able to answer, a group of jocks came tumbling into the hallway, one of them bumping into you particularly hard in his drunken state. Eddie had already intervened before you could tell him that it was okay and that you were sure it was an accident.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!”

His hand shoved the muscular guy back with no problem and had that guy not been completely wasted, a fight would’ve broken out but it seemed he couldn't register what was going on as he began roughhousing with one of his friends once again, thankfully making their way into the basement.

“I-uh-how–how much?” You stuttered, ignoring the interruption.

His plush lips tightened before his tongue darted out, one of his nervous habits.

“Share it with me and we’ll call it good.” Your heart fluttered, face heating.

It was flirting. It was in your face, outright, one hundred percent flirting and yet you couldn’t let yourself believe it. He was just being friendly. Because boys didn’t like you like that, they never have and they probably never will. Especially the one in front of you who everyone warned you against associating yourself with. It never stopped you from talking with him in the classes you shared or waving to him in the halls, him always returning the favor. Your experiences clearly indicated that he wasn’t always rough around the edges like everyone said, he was actually a sweetheart with a lot of nerdy tendencies. At least that's what you learned from your shared time at school. There were select occasions outside of school such as previous parties where he’d sell that you would approach him with a shy smile and he would be as charming as always. And there were times where he led you to think that maybe, just maybe he liked you as much as you liked him. But you’d never act on it, having never even had a boyfriend before so what experience was there to guide you? He was one of the only boys to offer you that kind of attention but it was never expected of you to cross a boundary and he let you take the lead, accounting for your bashfulness and fully realizing that he couldn’t just hook up with you and leave it at that. Because there was something else there and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was.

“Well, I have to pay. Seriously, how much?”

His arm was braced against the wall as he leaned toward you, breath fanning over your cheek, you didn’t even mind the smell of beer filling your nose.

“Your money’s no good here.” His dimples had you hypnotized.

“That’s not fair.” You breathed, your eyes sparkling while looking up at him.

“No?”

“No.”

“Alright Munson, quit hitting on my friend. You got any weed left or are you done here?”

Steve Harrington was going to get a mouthful from you later.

–

Present Day

You’d never existed in that van if anyone were to ask, not that they would. It had been the shittiest night you’d experienced in a good while. The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even call Robin or Steve to rant to them about how shitty of a night it was because they were part of the reason. Loneliness was the most debilitating illness and it was conquering you from the inside out. Sure you could probably confide in Jonathan but your brain was screaming at you to suffer alone. No one else needed to be bothered by your whining when they had their own lives to live. This was now between you and yourself.

Living in a small town had never been such an issue. Working in the same coffee shop as your best friends as well as your biggest enemy was proving to be a stupid idea but you were in no position to change jobs, not when you could barely make rent and no other jobs would have the flexibility to keep you around with your class schedule. Plus no one was even hiring, they’d already secured their seasonal hires. So back to the drawing board you went. No more arriving at work early, minimizing the chance of interaction with Steve and Robin and keeping to yourself your entire shift as a means to tune Eddie out no matter how hard he would try and press your buttons. It was going to be hell but what other option did you have at this point in time? There was always the choice to drop out of college but then that’d be a waste of a scholarship you’d received based on your low income in combination with a well written essay your senior year. Senior year you would punch you in the face if you dropped out all because of the poorly thought out actions of others. All that hard work down the drain for a couple of dumbasses? Absolutely not.

No. You were not going to alter your life just because of them. Although it felt you were being somewhat dramatic, you weren’t going to let this go. It was as if they’d isolated you and laughed about it behind your back. Left you in the dark and giggled to each other about how pathetic you were. No one should ever have to endure this pain, especially not at the hands of the people who you’d thought mattered to you most but seemingly proved that they were just like everyone else. You figured you still had the kids but then quickly remembered whose house they mainly hung out at and it left you defeated. At least you could always stop in at the Byers, that much you knew. Even so, you didn’t want to bother them with the sudden friendship politics, it seemed childish on your part and Will definitely didn’t need to hear you complain about the other two people he looked up to. That was not a road you were willing to go down, he’d had enough of seeing adults bicker to last several lifetimes and you already vowed to shield him from any more of it.

That night was honestly even more awful the second your back hit your shitty mattress. Sobs racked your body and it was nearly enough to make you throw up. Nearly. You held it down but still dry heaved, curled up in a ball like a loser while everyone else seemed fine. The cherry on top was the way Eddie clawed at old wounds, your guts may as well have left a bloody trail from the street where he dropped you off all the way up the stairs to your apartment. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that he yelled at you to get out of his van that was inducing the vomit rising in the back of your throat. It certainly contributed but what brought the taste of bile to your tongue was the way that you’d bantered for a split second just like in high school—when there was a chance. When you were naive and sadly mistaken. A love sick puppy for a boy who had only misled you and mistreated you. You suppose some of the blame could’ve been on you, letting yourself fall harder and harder each time you’d seen his contagious smile in the halls and in class. You know how they say some people peak in high school? Well you could say that you hit rock bottom which to be honest, felt far more embarrassing than peaking. All because of a stupid boy.

Was this really what you’d become? A sorry excuse of a woman muffling sobs into your pillow over some mistakenly split open feelings for a boy—now a man still taunting your everyday life? Why did he have this power over you all of the sudden? For the past few years you had felt nothing but disgust for him and now it felt like you were dealing with the heartbreak all over again, as if that night happened just hours ago.

And Steve had practically spit on the heartbreak that he’d witnessed before his eyes. That he’d helped nurse you through, drying your tears with countless tissues, lending his shoulder to cry on. That version of him was flushed down the drain the minute he stepped out of that damn van. Where you used to see kind and caring brown eyes with that sympathetic wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, you now saw betrayal in human form.

—

The smudged mirror of the public bathroom in Hawkins Community did little to enhance any beauty you may have held at some point. It only added to your dark under eyes, hues of purple beneath the skin along with a puffy redness from non stop crying. To sum it up, you looked swollen and you were sorry to anyone that had to witness the sight. The cool water you splashed on your face from the sputtering faucet didn’t do as much as the internet said it would. If anything you only looked worse but now your nerves were shocked from the temperature change. You had to get over yourself eventually, just suck it up and go to work.

With one last wipe of a gritty paper towel, your nose raw from constantly wiping snot away, you gave up the pity party and forced yourself out of the depressing, poorly lit bathroom. A push of the germy door with your shoulder has you moving on to brave the rest of the day—the hard part of the day. The part that you’d dreaded and played out in your mind like a projector on a screen. Every scenario laid out before you like a deck of cards and so unsure of which one would become your fate.

The sky looked an eerie gray, more rain expected to accompany that morning's light drizzle, casting the hallways in a darker light than they usually led on. It was beyond you that you kept leaving your umbrella at home when rain was almost always on the forecast these days. You suppose the sky reflected your mood and that was fair enough.

Stepping outside as the metal door slammed shut behind you, your skin erupted in goosebumps, wind swirling in your hair as mother nature declared its fury in thunderous echoes in the sky. It was only a fifteen minute walk, just endure the unusually strong winds and keep on, that’s what you told yourself. Things can’t get any shittier, they just can’t.

—

Slowly The Under-Ground came into view as did the downtown square where not one person lingered due to the weather. Each bench was devoid of its regular users and it seemed like a ghost town more than anything. The faint smell of chimney smoke crossed your senses and it only made you wish you’d be able to just cozy up next to a fire and forget this cursed timeline you were in. You could just imagine the families in their homes just a few blocks over, probably preparing for dinner in their well manicured kitchens while their kids enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and watched a wholesome movie. What you’d give to be in their position again. Young and free of responsibility.

Fat rain drops began to paint the pavement and you thanked whatever higher power that it had waited until you arrived at work to unleash the beginnings of what seemed to be a storm. You now only bargained with Mother Nature that it would be kind enough to let up by the time your shift ended. The Fall rain seemed to be treating Hawkins extra cruelly this year.

You’d scurried as fast as you could to the front French doors of the shop, swinging one open as the bell chimes above and a blanket of warmth cocoons you, allowing you to take in the rich, chocolatey smell of a recently warmed brownie mixed with notes of espresso. It was 4:55 PM, just five minutes shy of when your shift was supposed to start, aiming to keep it as close as possible to avoid Steve and Robin the best you could.

There wasn’t a single customer in sight, a brief whiff of bleach filling your nose as you walked by a ‘Caution Wet’ sign propped in the middle of the floor. You didn’t even give whoever was behind the counter so much as a glance as you kept your focus on the floor, making your way toward the back to hopefully avoid everyone so you could set your things in your locker and prepare yourself for your shift. The typical jazzy music played over the speakers and you could just barely hear a whisper of what had to be Robin’s voice directed at Steve. Something along the lines of ‘fix it, right now’. If she was referencing what you suspected, she was naive to think that Steve could just ‘fix it’ right here right now. In your eyes she was practically telling him to slap a band-aid onto a bloody gash that would actually require a severe amount of stitches.

Your gaze remained glued to the dark tiled floor, the grout interesting you more than the hushed conversation between two traitors. The hope was to ignore any and all attempts to make amends at this point in time on Steve’s part. And to dodge any reasoning Robin tried to sprinkle on top. But hopes are often lost and before you could reach the back, Steve’s scuffed Adidas forced their way into your line of sight. Your name fell from his tongue like an apology that you were far from accepting.

“Listen, can we-can we talk?” He sounded as if he was begging for his life and you were too mad to look into his eyes to further read him.

All you offered was a scoff as you tried to push past him however he stood in your way, a bold move for someone on such thin ice.

“Please?” His head ducked down in an effort to meet your eyes, succeeding for a mere second where you caught that stupid sympathetic wrinkle in between his eyebrows and his apologetic stare. It didn’t work this time.

“Move.” You were stern as you bit your lip to keep from showing any kind of emotion.

“We have to talk about it—“

“We don’t have to talk about anything.” You snapped bitterly.

Robin seemed to understand to keep her mouth shut in this instance, she knew this wasn’t some dumb disagreement that you’d end up laughing about at the end of the day. This was grounds for a possible severed bond. So there she stood, wide eyed as she pretended to clean the already sparkling countertop, blue polish chipping from her nails as she gripped the rag with apprehension.

And Steve seemed to know his place as he stepped aside, comprehending that he would not make much progress with you right now and that you may not even forgive him ever. It terrified him but what could he do? He fucked up and he was suffering the damages, a far greater loss than his selfish needs were worth. Respecting your boundaries was the most he could do right now and it gutted him from the inside out.

You were lucky that only a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheek, your skilled ability to not cry in public proving very useful in the moment. Wiping it away with dignity, you proceeded to the back room, only wishing to have a minute alone to recover before having to put on a facade. Your locker was your only target but you’d fumbled as your mind worked quicker than your legs, bag flying off of your shoulder and spilling out a tube of mascara, a half eaten bag of chips, and a few papers from an assignment you’d tried to work on last night to take your mind away from the endless sobbing. It felt as though the dark clouds outside were following you and wreaking more havoc than could handle. Quickly, you scooped up each item and shoved them back in your bag, a few curses uttered under your breath and when you were about to push yourself up off the sticky ground, you were met with a pair of abyss-like brown eyes.

He was tying his decked out apron around his waist, looking down at you with concern. You hadn’t even seen him upon first walking in, his presence residing in the corner of the room where it seemed he placed his helmet on the window sill farthest from the door. He was early. And he was never early. Without a word between you, his hands were up in surrender as he spun back around towards the window, back facing you as he pulled a pen from the apron and seemed to scribble on something. The interaction seemed strange as he didn’t offer some insult about how clumsy you were. And you didn’t snap at him the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seeing him still made you beyond upset but the tension in the air carried something far more complicated that you couldn’t distinguish. So you left it, swinging open your locker and snatching your apron before shoving your bag inside, the metal clanking noisily as you did. A breeze brushed past you while you secured your apron to your satisfaction and when you finally glanced behind you, Eddie was no longer in the room.

Patting at your pockets dumbly for your phone before departing out to the front, you were having trouble locating the device. You double checked your bag but no success, even feeling around the inside of the locker just in case. It wasn’t until you turned around that you realized you must have abandoned it on the foldable break room table in your uncoordinated walk earlier. And there it was sitting atop the table—with a steaming to-go cup next to it? Surely that wasn’t there before, you would have definitely knocked it over with how close it was to your phone and how ungraceful you were in your movements. You were starting to question how insane you were going with everything swirling around in your brain since last night, did you make yourself a coffee in the midst of Steve trying to coax you into a conversation? That must have been it.

Except as you further inspected, there was some kind of writing on the side of the cup. Scribbled in black sharpie was a single word. And realization hits you like a train when you read it.

“Roadkill”

~end~

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #st fic #eddie fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson fics #the under-ground

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sweetesttarot · 2 years

Text

Channeled Messages - Traits Of Your Soulmate!

Piles: 1-2-3 4-5-6

Disclaimer:

this is a general message so not all that is mentioned may apply to you/your person, take what resonates!

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ ° pile one

I feel like your soulmate is someone from your past. This doesn't only apply to your current waking life, this may be someone you know from a past life or someone from the dream realm. Your soulmate has the most angelic energy. They bring peace wherever they go. I'm getting the message that some of you who picked this pile may work with the Greek God Apollo or are interested in astral travel or shifting. Your person has a bright yellow aura. I also feel that your person may be into foreign music or they may be a polyglot! rainy, dazed, free, child, ship, sail, ghosts, young, journal, kite, fromis_9, love, sleepy, frog, turtleneck, president, frame, glasses, brick, country, india, tulum, minneapolis, highway, plus, notes, music, sticky, gold, ice cream, wales, four leaf clover

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ °pile two

I feel like like your soulmate is the physical version of a chai latte! I know that may sound weird but they have a calming, magnetic, cozy energy. They may wear beige often. I also feel like your soulmate is very clumsy, I'm seeing ink bottles spilled on paper. This person is also a huge animal lover! They may have a pet turtle or a pet named turtle. I also think that this person looooooves pasta so much that they literally eat it multiple times a week.

whales, plaid, plisse, open, knit, wool, maple, orange tabby cat, kristen, california, brazil, pierce, slay, jumping, airplane, drives, dust, flowers, sushi, kintsugi, novels, poetry, virgina woolf, museum, kryptonite

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ °pile three

I feel like your person loves the snow. As a kid they may have wanted to be in the winter olympics. This person is super outgoing but they may use their outgoing personality as a shield. They may really like sonny angel toys and may have a large collection of them! This person could also love watching daily vlogs or healing vlogs. They're also very studious and math may be one of their favorite subjects! cloudy, snow, peace, green, jumbo, lights, blink, rose, waste, glasses, vision, braid, mosquitoes, mountains, sled, porsche, nantucket, lima, yellow, surfing, corners, ikea, polka dot, grapes, beabadoobee, posie

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ °pile four

I'm immediately feeling that this person loves the color pink. They may have or may have had multiple cats. Some people may judge this person because outwardly they may look immature but they actually have so much depth and are extremely intelligent! This person may use really sweet, sugary perfumes similar to sweet like candy by ariana grande. I'm also seeing that this person is an avid gamer and may really like dungeons and dragons or street fighter!

stuffed animals, suede, long, juice, stay, socks, nothing, frost, yes, dungeon, prom, violets, fraises, france, ghost, garden, keep, lock, race, seaside, tyler, chrome, seasons, popcorn, like or like like, lovely, music, chasing

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ °pile five

Your person has total Rory Gilmore vibes regardless of their gender. They may wear striped long sleeve shirts and flare jeans a lot. They also really like the marauders from harry potter. Their favorite food is soup, more specifically clam chowder? This person loves going to concerts/movies and they may keep their concert/movie tickets pasted in a red journal. pancakes, sociable, snakes, ring, right, map, facing, dress, horse, turkey, love, tidal, cross, breathe, mantra, west, vibes, running, salon, juniper, resting, also, miso, yogurt, chambers, register, wash, above, charlie, tiger

. ♡ ° . . • . ♡ °pile six

Your person loves taking selfies lol. They are always taking pictures and they may even be an influencer. I'm also feeling that they love having quiet time, they find being alone and being quiet so relaxing. This person may collect vintage items and may have a vintage scarf that they tie to their bag. This person also really loves brownies lol. They have a very calming presence and they'll help you learn how to reflect inwardly! holding, four, poles, moist, jungle, ranch, halsey, notion, falling, number, erase, data, samsung, princess, quality, cyan, random, coarse, hiding, shiba, lemon, pricy, bait, madison, wisconsin, logic, bread, pumpkin, lavender

If you enjoyed this reading please reblog!

#pick a pile #pick a card #channeled message #love reading #tarot reading #pick a picture #future spouse #pick a pile reading #pick a card reading #tarot community #general tarot reading #pac reading

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supercyberlife · 1 year

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The Girly Guide to dressing like a Doll

Hello dolls!!! I’ve been neglecting this blog so bad recently but it totally isn’t on purpose. I’m in like my last month of school so everything has been going by really fast and I just haven’t had the time to write. I like to think of it as a good thing because now I have a whole bunch of ideas and drafts for the future ^_^. Today's post is about how to dress like a doll. It's not really gonna be very specific on how to dress a certain way but instead give you an idea on how to use cute doll-like elements in your wardrobe to help you achieve that cute dolly look. I’m going to include some pictures of what I'm going to talk about to help get a better picture of the concept as a whole. I post on my tiktok a lot and always get comments about my style and how I just put together my outfits in general. So here's a way to start dressing like the you really want to be.

1. Know what colors you like and what colors you don’t like.

I know it sounds simple but it can be quite complicated if you only wear one color. Personally I stick to 3 or 4 colors I know I will always look good in: pink, purple, white, and black. These are my signature colors that make up most of my wardrobe. If you can pick a few colors you know you will wear that will make it easier when you’re actually trying to find clothes you like.

2. Don’t limit yourself to one style/aesthetic

I had this mindset at first that I would only stick to one style for the rest of my life and would never change it ever. That works well for some people but not me. There are so many styles and fashion elements to try out and just sticking to one is kind of limiting in my opinion. Of course it's fine if you want to stick to one style or aesthetic but before deciding on one i highly suggest trying out different ones.

3. Have staple pieces in your wardrobe.

Sure statement pieces are beautiful and amazing to have but staple pieces are just as if not more important. I suggest having 2 or 3 regular t-shirts in the colors you like, 2 pairs of jeans/pants, 1 or 2 skirts, and a dress. These pieces are more than enough in the realm of simple and fabulous especially if you accessories them the right way. Plus you can easily mix and match them with statement pieces.

4. Shoes, shoes, SHOES!!!

At first I didn't understand the importance of shoes but god do I now. I love shoe shopping. When I first started my deep dive into fashion I focused on the clothes instead of the shoes and that was kind of a mistake lol. Shoes can elevate any outfit from a 5 to a 10. I like to have a pair of white and black shoes in my wardrobe at all times. Also as I got older I started to add heels and platforms into the mix because a casual look can also be super cute with a great pair of heels or platforms. Starting out I suggest a pair a black and white sneakers and if you like heels and pair of black heels

5. Have an inspo for how you want to look like

I know above I said don’t limit yourself but sometimes having an inspo or guide for the look you’re going for is really helpful. I personally have so many (i’ll include a few). This by no means mean copy a persona to the t but take aspects of their style and incorporate them into yours to help it develop into a style you like. Personally my inspo is monster high, alternative fashion, video vixens from the early 2000s, a lot of megan fox characters (jennifer check, carla santini, mikeala baens), vampires, elle woods, barbie, london tipton, sharpay evans, harajuku fashion, girly anime/video characters, 2000s horror movies, Mariah Carey, Nicki Minaj, Megan Good. As you can see it's a pretty good mix or like preppy pink and alt fashion and there is nothing wrong with mixing them together.

6. ACCESSORIZE!

God do I love accessorizing, it is my second favorite part about getting dressed (other than doing my makeup). The first thing I think you should do is pick which metals you like, by this i mean gold or silver. I personally love silver jewelry and only wear silvery. Due to this most of the jewelry I buy is silver, pink, and black. I also have quite the bag collection, mostly black and white (I just bought a new pink bag that I'm so excited about). I wouldn't say have one bag for every occasion but do have like 2 or 3, personally i love a little baguette or crossbody bag. Also invest in some sunglasses. They’re sups cute and protect your eyes from the sun.

7. Makeup can be a literal lifesaver

Makeup is literally my favorite thing ever. I love getting dressed up and doing my makeup. It's just so therapeutic to me. If I don't like the outfit that I'm wearing, I can just do my makeup and I'll feel so much better about it. I have a post on some of my makeup favorites as a starting point if you have no clue about makeup. I can also recommend some youtube videos if you guys want.

But most importantly have CONFIDENCE! Confidence is the key to looking and feeling amazing as long as you work to be the best version of yourself and stay true to yourself. That's all it really takes to be a doll. I plan on making more posts like this soon because I really enjoy sitting down and just writing helpful little posts like this. If you guys have any question pls don't hesitate to comment or message me i’ll always answer. Bye Bye lovelies!!!! XOXO Dolly

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smittywing · 7 months

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Ficbit 9: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

So I hear the fandom chatter is on discord these days. Is there a Jay/Tim channel I should look into?

In the meantime:

Tim turned 18 on a Wednesday. Jason sent him a text message and did not stalk the marina.

The party was scheduled the following Saturday and Jason tried one last-ditch effort to convince Roy that they needed to go off-planet. When that failed, he put on the jeans with the least blood and his nicest black t-shirt, and delivered himself to the Manor.

He was exactly on time for Tim’s party but he entered through the kitchen and lingered there, secure in Alfred’s quiet presence.

“Your own birthday is in less than a month,” Alfred observed, spacing candles on Tim’s cake. Alfred remembered everyone’s birthday but Jason always remembered Alfred’s because it was the same date as his own. “Have you thought about how you would like to mark the occasion?”

He had not, but he did now, because it was a delay to thinking about the current day and the birthday celebration that he would have to bear. “I think I would like to go to high tea at the Intercontinental Hotel,” he suggested. “With my birthday twin.”

“Birthday twin.” The corners of Alfred’s eyes crinkled. “I quite like the term. And appreciate the company even more.”

Jason smiled. He watched Alfred set the candles aflame on the chocolate-frosted mocha cake, and lift the tray. His respite in the kitchen was fast coming to an end. “Shall we?” Alfred suggested, and Jason had no recourse but to stand and follow him into the sitting room where the party was underway.

The balloons were black and silver and everything looked extra polished. Tim was wearing black skinny jeans and a band t-shirt and had a ridiculous cone-shaped hat on his head, pink and purple, with a silver pom-pom on the top. He was wedged between Bernard and Stephanie and Jason wasn't entirely sure which of them was responsible for his condition.

Duke and Cass were arm-wrestling, but instantly called a truce when they saw the cake. Dick struck up a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” that everyone save Damian joined to some degree, and Jason peeled out of Alfed’s shadow and lurked at the edge of the room with Barbara.

“Two social events in six weeks,” she commented while Tim was blowing his candles out. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Bruce said pretty please,” Jason said, which wasn't actually a lie. Barbara snorted anyway. “Doubting my veracity?”

“Doubting your auditory comprehension,” Barbara said. Which was probably fair. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Same,” Jason said, suddenly awkward. He accepted a slice of cake from Alfred to cover. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Time for gifts!” Steph announced to the room.

Jason was glad he’d had Tim’s gift sent to the mansion. It was big and bulky and there was no way he’d have been able to take the motorcycle to Wayne Manor with that on the back. Of course, because he did not come over early, it wasn’t wrapped, but someone - Alfred, of course it was Alfred - had pinned a large red bow on it and placed it with the other packages and gift bags.

“I gave Tim his gift on Wednesday,” Bernard piped up. “It was personal.”

“Thanks, dude,” Steph shot back. “We didn’t need to know you got Tim a dildo.”

Jason felt the back of his neck go hot and itchy. He wasn’t a prude for fuck’s sake, but the thought of - yeah, no. Tim’s sex life with anyone else was definitely off-limits. He glanced anywhere in the room but Tim, and saw Bruce close his eyes and shake his head slightly. At least *someone* was in more mental pain than Jason.

“Well, clearly I didn’t need to tell you,” Bernard returned, which was a somewhat decent comeback if you knew Steph well enough, but it wasn’t an emphatic denial, which was the only thing Jason was willing to process.

“Perhaps this package from Master Damian,” Alfred suggested, ignoring the inappropriate conversation around him, and handing Tim said package. Tim handled it gingerly, like it might start leaking poison or explode. Jason didn’t judge him.

Tim ripped off the paper and frowned at the box in his hands. “You got me an ant farm?”

“Now that you have reached the age of majority, you may be required to care for less capable beings,” Damian explained. “Ants are very persistent creatures. You would find it very difficult to fail in your caretaking duties.”

“Ants,” Tim said.

“There is a certificate enclosed which authorizes you to order the ants online,” Damian said helpfully.

“I’m not going to *order ants*,” Tim said. Bernard reached over and squeezed his knee. He tucked his head against Tim’s shoulder and said something in his ear.

Jason looked away.

“Thank you, Damian,” Tim said awkwardly. “I will make sure their habitat is appropriately set up before I send for them.”

Jason ate another piece of cake while Tim worked through his prodigious stack of gifts. Finally, he hit the sizable box on the bottom with its red bow.

“I love it,” Tim said, staring at the pile of metal inside the cardboard box. “What is it?”

“It’s a Webasto FCF unit. It’s AC for your boat,” Jason said, when Tim and Bernard both looked at him blankly. “So you don’t die in the humidity.”

“Oh, sweet,” Tim said immediately. “Thanks, Jay. Will you help me install it?”

Bernard cleared his throat.

“I mean,” Tim said with a glance back at his boyfriend. “Of course you’re going to help, too. But neither of us has done this before.”

Jason hadn’t actually done that before either and he wasn’t entirely sure Tim thought he did, but he was smart enough not to say anything this time. Bernard looked like he was going to ask, but changed his mind at the last minute and shrugged.

“It’ll be nice to be able to go below without boiling,” he admitted.

“Mine next!” Cass insisted with timing that made her Jason’s favorite sister. (It was a short list and Stephanie was no longer on it.) She’d gotten Tim a scarf, which, did Tim actually *need* any more scarves?

Jason skulked around the edges of the room as Tim unwrapped some video games from Duke and a new tablet from Barbara. Was it late enough? Had he been here long enough? Could he leave?

“Hey.” It was the birthday boy himself, released from the pile of gifts and nudging his way into Jason’s space. “Thanks for the AC. That was really cool of you. Ugh.” Tim rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “The puns are totally Dick’s thing.”

“Nice try,” Jason said. “Being Robin means punning against your will.” He turned his drink in his hand. “So listen, I don’t actually know how to install that thing so I think you and Cannon Fodder are on your own there.”

“Really?” Tim asked, his face falling. “You don’t even want to help?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” Jason said. “Your boyfriend does not want me within a hundred feet of that boat. Or you.”

“Oh,” Tim said. He looked awkward. “Okay. So, um. Been to any new clubs lately?”

“Ha!” Jason barked out the laugh before he could stop himself. “Yeah, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Haven’t really been back.”

Tim nodded. “Does that mean you, um, you know. You found what you were…looking for?” he asks, and suddenly Jason’s patience, already threadbare, wore through.

“I think I’m going to go,” he said stiffly. “Happy Birthday, Tim.”

Tim looked like Jason had slapped him, but Stephanie, who had been in earshot, was right there, pulling him away. “Tim,” she snapped. “A <i>word</i>?”

“Hey, it’s been a great party,” Jason said, generally to the room, but really to Alfred. “I just, I have to go.”

And he goes, as fast as meets the minimums for decorum. Maybe faster.

He’s on the motorcycle with his helmet on when the door opens and Dick comes jogging toward him with one hand raised. Jason twists the key, hoping to peel away before Dick gets in shouting distance, but the engine turns over and doesn’t catch - today of all days? - and claps a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason shrugs it off but then Dick says,

“Hey. Tim was out of line.”

Jason pauses. Everything is always his fault, he’s the one who does everything wrong, and he can’t help but be tempted by the idea that Tim has fucked something up. “He’s just trying to - “ To what? See if Jason’s gotten laid? If Jason’s found someone else? If Jason’s done his experimenting and is over it now? If Jason’s over Tim? “How many of you are going to ambush me today?” he asked instead.

“Just me,” Dick said. “Be grateful, I told Bruce not to come out, and Tim is getting an earful from Steph right now.”

An earful from Steph is no one’s idea of a good time and Jason actually wonders if Tim’s going to be okay before he scolds himself for caring. “He’s always been a nosy fucker.”

“Yeah, and it’s always been a problem,” Dick admitted. “He doesn’t do this shit on purpose but his parents taught him even fewer emotional skills than B. He doesn’t always focus on things in the healthiest way.

“Yeah,” Jason blurted out, pulling off his helmet. Guess he was staying a while. “What was that? Like a test to make sure I’m over it? I’m fucking trying. But it’s not like I feel like this…ever.” To his horror, the lawn blurred in front of him and he looked away. “It’s gonna take a while. And I tried backing off! But I keep running into him. I don’t fucking know.”

Dick took his helmet and set it on the ground. Goddammit, how was he going to roar off in a fit of rage now? At least his eyes had cleared. “I think it’s maybe the opposite,” Dick suggested gently. “Tim has hang-ups about being wanted by anyone at all. He doesn’t know what to do with multiple cute guys wanting to kiss him. You didn’t see him with that other girl and Steph back in the day. He’s a mess. That said,” Dick continued, “it’s okay for you to enforce whatever boundaries you need. Your heart matters just as much. To all of us. Tim, too. And you did a good job with that today. I just wanted to let you know.”

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thank you for the gold star,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah, well.” Dick shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his hair out of his face. “You should come out to Bludhaven some time. We can punch bad guys. I’ve got enough to share. It’ll be fun.”

Jason huffed out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “I could do that.” In fact. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, I would, too,” Dick said. The next few beats were awkward and then Dick scooped up Jason’s helmet and handed it to him. “Thanks for sticking around for that. I know I’m a pain in your ass.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, taking the helmet and looking down at it. “You are. But that’s what big brothers do, right?”

Dick smiled and Jason fitted the helmet back onto his head. “I’ll text you,” he said.

Jason revved the bike again and the engine turned over and caught. “Do that,” he said, barely audible over the roar of the engine. He pulled out onto the road and didn’t let himself look back.

#batbrats #jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #jason todd/tim drake #red hood/red robin #red hood #red robin #jason todd's potty mouth

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

Text

Deep In Her Heart, The Thunder Rolls

♤ Next Chapter | Blue Jeans Masterlist

♤ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Y/n "Tilly" Tillerson

♤ Word Count: 2.2 K

♤ Warnings: Fluff, Cuddly!Rhett, Horny!thots, Angst..

♤ A/n: It's just a blurb, a bit of setup for part 3...

♤ Library | Main Masterlist

To say that Rhett Abbott was sweet on you, was the understatement of the century. You left Wabang for college a year and a half ago, and though you “broke up,” the two of you remained faithful to one another.

I wasn’t that you had promised each other that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone else. No, you just could never find anyone that seemed better than Rhett. You were still in love with the man, and the fact that he came up to Bozeman at least once every 6 months, kept you more than satisfied.

The both of you had decided to keep your situation on a need-to-know bases, as in no one else needed to know. It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no it was more the fact that you were just both very private people, especially when it came to each other. Rhett had come up with an array of excuses to tell his family about why he was constantly going to Bosman.

From circuit business, to needing a new Stetson, to events, nothing was off the table when it came to seeing you. You thankfully had your own dorm room, meaning that no matter when Rhett showed up, he always had a place to stay. His appearances became so regular, that the dorm building security guard had come to know Rhett by name and would hold a conversation every time he visited.

Most of the time, Rhett’s visits ended with the two of you locked in your room for the whole weekend. Only ever coming out when you’d ordered food, or to go on the occasional date night. It wasn’t that you were to sex-crazed individuals, which you were, but the deep need that you both had to just be in each other’s presence was overwhelming.

You and Rhett were like a part of each other’s souls, as if at one point you’d been so deeply intertwined, that when you parted it was as if you could barely breathe. You had etched your mark on each other’s souls, and there would be no removing it.

…

Rhett was coming up for the weekend, and while you hadn’t seen him in two months, you talked every day. You had been working through your assignments, wanting to have everything finished and turned in before he showed up. The massive write-up for econ, had been time-consuming. The actual writing of the paper had been easy enough, though the hours you spent researching the economic downfall in the 1930s had been studious and mind-numbing.

You loved school, really, but between the tutoring and honor society, you were more than ready for a chill, relaxing weekend with Rhett.

Clicking submit on the paper, you glance at your phone, and two unread messages flash across the screen. One from Rhett stating that he was just pulling into the dorm parking, and the other from Daniel, a guy that you’d been “helping” in classes.

Hey T, did you finish up that chemistry assignment? It's due Sunday.

Alright, so maybe you weren’t just helping, but Daniel was a busy guy and paid you well for the work you did.

Yeah, I emailed it to you this morning, but my venmo isn’t working. I need cash.

You type out the message and hit send, throwing your phone back onto your bed as a knock sounds at your door. You're up and moving without a second thought for the outfit you're wearing, the booty shorts barely peeking out from under one of Rhett’s oversized hoodies. Your hair in a clear mess atop your head, barely being held up by the claw clip.

You pull open the door swiftly, only to find Rhett talking with your neighbor, the bitch. Every time Rhett was over, she made goo-goo eyes at him. Clearly trying to get in his pants, you’d think she would have gotten the message after hearing you scream Rhett’s name during every visit.

Rhett turns to you when you open the door, though your eyes are focused on Danica. Your hand grasps at the shirt Rhett is wearing, and tug him harshly into the room. Your eyes never leave Danica as she glares at you, a fake smile plastered on your lips before you rudely slam the door in her face.

“Tilly, that wasn’t very nice.” The teasing, yet cocky tone in his voice has you rolling your eyes.

“I don’t like sharing, Abbott.” Your voice clipped and harsh, as your eyes soften when looking up into his own.

One hand settles to rest on his abdomen, as the other wraps up around his neck. You deliver a harsh tug, pulling Rhett down and slotting your lips against one another. You can feel Rhett’s smile against your lips, his hands drop down around your waist, slip beneath the hoodie and tap your ass, signaling you to jump.

You waste no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, both arms curling around his neck. One slipped up to grasp the Stetson atop his head, pulling away from the kiss for a second and tossing the hat onto your desk. The idea of your lips being apart is clearly displeasing to Rhett. As one of his hands slips from underneath your ass, to grasp your cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger, pressing his lips back against yours.

Your lips work against each other, hot needy kisses pass between you. Your tongues work in tandem against each other, pushing and pulling in a network of want and passion. You don't even notice that the pair of you have moved until Rhett has you pressed against your mattress.

The pressure of his belt buckle against your cunt has you bucking your hips, and a wanton moan slips past your lips.

“Hold on, sugar.”

Rhett pulls away, his hand slips up to cradle you face, thumb brushing against your swollen bottom lip.

“Just let me look at you.”

Your face nuzzles into the palm of his hand, kissing it gently. The blue in Rhett’s eyes shines bright, and the small specks of green peek out from behind his iris. His stare makes you blush, it was always like he could see right into your soul. Moments like this were always more vulnerable than any other time, even in moments when you were naked and exposed.

“I missed you.”

The comment slips past your lips, so quiet and gentle. Though it causes Rhett to smile, before pressing a small against your lips. Foreheads resting against one another, the weight of his body settles against your own.

“I missed you, Til.” Noses bopping against each other, before Rhett is standing. Slipping the button-up off his shoulders, the clank of his buckle releasing sounds, as he pushes his pants to the floor. He motions towards you to sit up, his hands reach for the bottom of the hoodie, slipping it from your form.

“Think this is mine, darlin’.

“Did you bring me a new one? It doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

He laughs slightly at your question, reaching to tug your shorts off. Leaving the both of you in your underwear and pulling you to lay on his chest as you settle on the bed.

“Don’t I always?”

Your head nods against his chest, knowing that every time Rhett came up, he brought you a sweater that he’d been wearing. You told them that the smell of his aftershave had comforted you and had made you feel like you weren’t so far apart.

The warmth of his body seeps deep into your bones, and your eyes start to drift off. The stress of the week fades from your hold, as Rhett runs a single hand up and down your spine.

“Sleep Tilly.”

The last thing you remember is a soft kiss being placed against the crown of your head, both yours and Rhett’s breath settling out into a slow rhythm, encased by sleep.

…

The loud knocking at your door wakes you and Rhett up, stretching up to place a sweet kiss against Rhett’s lips, you slowly move from the bed. Though Rhett reaches out, holding on to your waist, as he whines into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles you and you can’t help but to giggle.

Your bubble is once again, popped as the knocking ensues again. Rhett finally releases you, so that you can pull on the hoodie and shorts. Glancing back over your shoulder you laugh at the sight, Rhett laid out on your bed, arms tucked behind his head, in nothing but his boxers. The sight makes your toes curl in want, your eyes racking up his form. To find a wide smile directed at you, his baby blues shimmering with mischief.

“Y/n, open the damn door.”

Daniel's voice has you moving again, grasping the handle of the door and ripping it wide open. Had you ripped it open so wide, in hopes that Danica would once again be lurking and see an almost naked Rhett spread out? Yes, though your hopes are dashed away when you see it’s only Daniel.

“Hey D, come on in.”

His eyes move behind you, settling against Rhett who waves a hand slightly. Not moving an inch from his spot, clearly comfortable in his skin.

“Baby, this is Daniel.” You motion between the two, eye’s finding Daniel’s. “D, this is Rhett.”

Each of them exchanging pleasantries, though nothing more. You push off the door, where you had been leaning, and reach under your desk in search of the chemistry binder from last year.

You find the worn binder and toss it to Daniel, eyes tracing to see if you have anything else that might help him.

“That’s all my notes from Granger's class last year. More than enough to help you pass tests and I can finish out the papers. But I want extra for the final, I’m gonna have a packed schedule with just my work.”

Rhett silently watches you, his sweet girl is hard-assing this massive guy and making demands. He always liked it when you were bossy, he thought it made you look hot. That fire in your eyes, always set him a light.

Daniel slips two crisp hundred dollar bills in your palm and glances back to Rhett, who only smiles wider. You laugh at him, your eyes rolling, and then look back toward Daniel.

“That’s fine,” He shakes the binder at you slightly, with a grateful smile. “Thanks, for this too.”

You give him another smile, and move to open the door for him. Trying to be polite, but more than ready to be back in bed with Rhett.

“Alright, it was nice meeting you.” Another wave passes between the two men, then Daniel is out the door. Calling a ‘thanks again’ over his shoulder as he leaves.

You turn around on your heel, and a smile spreads across your face seeing Rhett in your bed. Before he has time to react, you’re moving for the cowboy, jumping up in his lap and snuggling up against his neck.

“Quiet the criminal, aren’t you?” his teasing tone has you laughing in his neck, arms, and legs wrapping around him like a koala.

“Daniel doesn’t have the time, and I like the extra cash.”

Rhett hums against the crown of your head, his arms wrapping around you in a tight grip.

“Long as you’re being careful, baby. Don’t think I missed the tattoos, I’m not stupid darin’.”

A heavy sigh is released from your chest, you pull away from Rhett so that you’re sitting in his lap. His hands automatically find home on your hips under the hoodie, gentle circles from his thumb rubbed into your hip bones.

“Look I know. Daniel is into some shady stuff, but he’s always been nice to me and if I called him for anything, he would be there.” Your fingers spin in your lap, a nervous habit. “It’s just nice to know that without you here, I have someone else that has my back. I don’t trust guys in general, but especially on campus.”

Rhett notices your slight nervous nature, and the tone you have when you mention the guys living on the campus. He’d seen them enough and known right away that they were douchebags, but you had never mentioned having trouble.

“There something I need to know about baby?”

The term of endearment has you glancing up, loving how sweet the tough cowboy could be with you.

“I had some problems when I first moved in, but Daniel ended them almost instantly. I didn’t wanna worry you, you already have so much going on.”

Your eyes causally avoid Rhett’s, already feeling bad that you’ve kept it from him. Rhett moves you sit up, and pulls you so your flush with his chest. So close that your eyes can’t help but to look at each other.

“Tilly, I don’t care what is going on in my life. You tell me from now on, please?”

It was rare to hear Rhett ask anyone ‘please,’ and the tone in his voice makes your stomach clench in pain. The thought of hurting him, even if it was on accident, was the worst possible thing you could think of happening. He was your person and you’d only ever kept it from him because you thought you were protecting him.

“I’m sorry baby, never again.”

The placement of your lips against his is out of the pure need to express your love, to prove how much he really meant to you.

“Promise?” The question whispered against your lips.

“I promise.”

…

I was a promise that you kept,

until you couldn’t.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbot x reader #blue jeans universe #outer range #outer range fic #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott blurb

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