#also mind you in the actual story it’s only been like maybe a couple weeks ??? months since jian yi confessed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puhmpken · 2 months

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Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas

This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!

You have been warned

Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma

Alastor x Reader Oneshot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!

You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.

But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare

“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was

“charlie..”

...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?

It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.

The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor

Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring

“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room

“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”

You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy

“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around

Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.

“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”

You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.

A moment of silent filling the air before

“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”

And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.

You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.

The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.

Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.

You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.

It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.

You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel

And that’s how you end up to the present day you.

You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with

Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.

On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome

As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions

The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.

Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.

Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.

As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle

You laughed at your reflection

Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.

You walked out the house being sure to not be seen

Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”

A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise

Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.

You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.

As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking

Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,

You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.

‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together

“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV

“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head

Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office

Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers

“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it

Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”

You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al

“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door

Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter

“Alastor, Radio Demon”

Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’

“…”

‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly

!!!CREAAAK!!!

Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered

‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking

Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.

You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream

Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound

It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.

Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed

You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time

You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust

‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman

Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps

“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff

“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.

“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in

“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone

“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter

Your heart began to sped up

‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air

“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape

Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,

You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you

As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you

You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering

Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again

Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing

Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing

“Where are you~?” He said

“…”

After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then

“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?

You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head

“...”

It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up

“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.

A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth

You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.

‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.

Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away

You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.

“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.

“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.

“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.

“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.

Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.

You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.

“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.

“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air

As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh

“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself

You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words

As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”

You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise

“You should run now.”

Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head

“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.

“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension

“Al please—…”

“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly

“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed

“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run

You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around

You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you

Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—

You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air

Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under

Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned

Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.

Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.

You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second

Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.

“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.

“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey

“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips

As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge

You both arrived at another clearing?

“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him

Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you

“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground

One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth

“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.

“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”

Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered

His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.

“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”

You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held

The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again

“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”

“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture

Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”

Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him

A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him

With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs

“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see

He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy

Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out

“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”

Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …

You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”

Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side

Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants

“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you

“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you

You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard

Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears

“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back

“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust

“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor

Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune

Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”

Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”

Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”

Y/n: deadpans

Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out

Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes

Al: gasp Darling!

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gamermattsgf · 2 months

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Horror movie hot takes // Matt + Chris

Again, I’m sorry that this is not my proper writing, but don’t worry! My breeding kink oneshot is on its way, I gotchu guys ;) I’m hopefully going to be dropping it some time in the middle of the week, so this is just some light and fun reading to do until then whilst you wait - if you want of course… pls humour my stupid ideas lol.

Thank you to whoever suggested this because I’ve been dying to give u guys my breakdown. Horror is one of my FAV genres, idk why, I just love scaring myself. Also, I don’t have just one to share with u guys, but three different options each because it’s such an expansive genre with so many probable things to pick from. You guys can probably tell that I have way too much fun with these things… (Plus they’d look good in multiple different genres and I rlly wish I could add more but I don’t want these to get too long bc they’re meant to be hot takes).

Obviously, a couple of the pictures I’ve used for the visuals may be potentially triggering as they contain blood and other disturbing bits of paraphernalia, so please if you’re squeamish, proceed with caution!!

But anyways…

Matt:

First up Matt’s most likely to star in some type of rural corn maze horror. I’m thinking proper Southern gothic style, low quality, out in the sticks and with only a small population in the farming town where he resides.

I could so see the storyline following the main character who moves to this place, but very quickly gets that sinking feeling in her stomach that there’s something not right about the town, from the way the locals look at her to the way Matt speaks when she first arrives. There’s got to be that cliché plot line where something suspicious is afoot, something that she wants to unearth.

Matt’s character gives off creepy neighbour vibes, like the kind that watches the main character from behind his curtains as she unloads the moving truck. This Matt is properly country too, from the cowboy boots on his feet to his red flannel shirt and his shotgun that he randomly carries around because he’s a sheep farmer (do I envision him using his country accent, yes, yes I do).

Long story short, the rural town isn’t just a town, it’s actually a cult, and the reason the farmers rear cattle and mind sheep is so that they can conduct ritualistic sacrifices with them.

(I lowkey wish this was a movie I’d eat this kind of twisted shit up)

For his second movie I’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of putting him in a domestic psychological thriller- so proper stalking vibes. I’m thinking something like ‘You’ but almost making him a more extreme version of Joe Goldberg.

Possibly he’s maybe the main character’s co-worker, who takes the secret affection he has for her a little too far? Or even just an absolutely psychotic ex that refuses to let her go… In short this is the kind of movie that doesn’t quite give you that exhilarating rush of jump-scares, but instead tries to make you as physically uncomfortable as possible with an absolutely horrific instrumental soundtrack playing underneath it.

I’m not sure why I chose this branch of horror, but something about the way Matt looks just really did it for me, it’s so difficult to explain but his physical appearance fits the overall image of someone with an obsessive attitude towards a loved one.

Three words. Found footage horror. These kind of horror movies scare me the most because of that idea of it being ‘found footage’. Equally, ‘based on true story’ horrors also mildly unsettle me just because of that idea that it’s been reimagined from a real life event.

Matt’s found footage is giving ‘The Blair Witch Project’, I can defintely see him out in the wilderness with a bunch of his really close friends, all with camcorders in their hands as they document their time camping in the woods. Until everything goes terribly wrong. And they get lost. And are picked off one by one until Matt is the only one standing.

There is no soundtrack this time, just heavy breathing, crunching leaves underneath running footsteps, the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional blood curdling shriek of whatever is hunting them down.

(I should seriously become a director lmaoo)

Chris:

Now onto Chris… most people often think Chris would thrive in a classic 90’s slasher flick- like ‘Scream’ or ‘Friday the 13th’ which I’m not going to argue against because he really would look great in one. It fits his overall vibe of being the jock boyfriend that is one of the first ones to die after him and his girlfriend stupidly break off from the group to ‘fool around’.

HOWEVER, I personally think that a game show gore horror is more his speed, it fits his skill set better. I feel like Chris would be really versatile in this kind of high-pressure environment and I’d honestly love to see him in a franchise like the ‘Saw’ movies (I want to hear him whimpering in pain) -WHAT…? Who said that??

This Chris is just an ordinary guy who works an ordinary but depressingly mundane job that does not come with the best pay… so what happens when he gets an ad mailed through his letter box promising money to whoever volunteers to try out this new and exciting game for a reality tv show? Well it’s simple, Chris would do anything for a dollar, so he signs up- not taking into account at all about how advertisements like this aren’t normally personally mailed to a person and that quite possibly this letter had actually been specifically targeted to people who were known to be in desperate need of some spare change.

The result? A wicked sadist trapping these poor people into machines and torturing them for his own personal gain.

(Fuck I love this idea)

This next one is a bit of a curve ball but roll with me here… a deep sea horror. Fun fact about me, I have horrible thalassophobia, and a severe fear of sharks (I know, stupid) but I can’t help it lol, they terrify me. However, still rolling with the overall cocky/jock/playboy characterisation of Chris, I could definitely picture him being some form of deep sea diving protege that’s a cave diving expert.

He’s a side character in the thriller that is called in when they need help with locating whatever monster lurks beneath the waves. Due to his speciality in the field, he’s one of the best, and co-leads a team of divers through a cave to see if they can sus out its location.

This Chris likes to wear a lot of blue things, and he’s constantly either smugly chewing on gum or is biting a toothpick within his teeth with an air of superiority about him. The soundtrack helps with the overall gritting suspense of the movie and keeps you on the edge of your seat constantly with jump-scares around every corner.

And finally, who the fuck would I be if I didn’t rope Chris into a zombie/pandemic apocalypse horror? Because this kind of movie has Chris written all over it, real TWD style. For some reason, within the whole horror genre in its entirety Chris fits the branch of gore horror the best, blood, guts and big spectacles of action packed violence. You name it, Chris looks like he could be apart of it.

In an apocalypse kind of situation, Chris would definitely be either a side character who you meet maybe about half way through the series - possibly from some other rival gang that threatens to steal your weapons - or one of the original main characters that have survived thus far. His weapon of choice is definitely either a trusty crowbar, or a classic metal baseball bat, something that he can really swing and satisfy his frenzied killing needs with.

Aesthetics wise, he wear a black bandana to keep the hair out of his face, a white tank top and army green cargo shorts. Pair them with some heavy duty black boots and you’ve got yourself a mighty attractive apocalypse survivor to spend the rest of your shortened life span with.

Author’s notes: someone needs to take my phone AND my imagination away from me immediately at this point, it’s too powerful when they’re put together. I get wayyyy too carried away with this shit lol. I have such a vivid imagination it’s insane to me, I be writing whole ass screen plays for these Jesus Christ. But anyways, I wanna see those two in a horror movie so fucking bad (if you couldn’t tell hehe). Or maybe just watch a horror movie with them… like- dw baby boy I’ll hold your hand at the scary bits hahahaha.

Again, a list of people who I think would entertain my silly little ideas: @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @luverboychris @mattestrella @mattslutt @nicksmainbitch @ellie-luvsfics @orangeypepsi @sturniolosreads @sturniolowhore @sturniolosstar @imwetforyourmom @thesturniolos @strniohoeee @rootbeerworshiper @lacysturniolo @matthemunch @1800chokedathoe @asturniolos @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @mattscokewhore @stursweet @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @lovingmattysposts @bernardsgf @fake-sturniolos

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolos

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jinnie-ret · 8 months

Note

could we maybe get a part two to fallen Angel? Maybe it could have her healing process, like her physical therapy process, and the fan reaction? I just love reading your work :3

fallen angel pt 2

Stray Kids x Ninth Member!reader (Platonic)

content warnings: mentions of injuries (ankle, rib)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.2k

after suffering a nasty fall in a Kingdom performance, Y/N is eager to get back on her feet, only to feel downhearted when she receives some less than motivating news. it's a good thing she has the boys there to support her.

Thank you so much @mynameisnotlaura for this request!! I hope you enjoy! :)

As always, if you enjoy please like and reblog! And my asks are open so be sure to leave in some requests if there's anything you'd like to see!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Stray Kids' Fans in Uproar as Second Member is Removed from Kingdom: Legendary War

With just a few more weeks until the finale of the competition between six boy groups, a second member of the group Stray Kids has been removed from the show.

MNET have released an official statement saying:

"Due to faulty equipment that had not been properly authenticated by outside distributors, Y/N of Stray Kids sustained an injury that has prevented her from continuing in the competition. This is a very unfortunate situation and we wish her a speedy recovery."

However some fans have speculated that it was actually MNET's fault and that they should have checked the equipment themselves.

What do you think? Let us know down below:

Comments:

First Hyunjin, and now Y/N, this is so sad to see our group of 9 go down to 7...

It's clearly MNET's fault! You could tell Chan was angry about something before making sure Jeongin was ok

I wouldn't be surprised if Bang Chan went off at the staff, we all saw how annoyed he was in that one vlive...

Our poor maknaes, I hope they're both doing ok! Jeongin, Y/N, fighting!

I hope the rest of the boys are doing ok, now that they're down two members...

The way you can see the moment things go wrong in the performance and Y/N still manages to keep a calm face!

Okay but you wouldn't have been able to tell that Y/N got injured until they showed it after the performance.

Y/N put her phone down sighing. She was glad there was no nasty comments from what she read but she still didn't feel all too optimistic. MNET had blamed someone else for her injuries, and had also denied her requests of participating in the competition once more. Sure, she wasn't fully healed yet, but they could have let her be a part of it somehow without her dancing too strenuously. And no, she wasn't going to accept their request to just sit backstage and watch. In any other world she wouldn't mind doing so, but she knew that MNET would manipulate their footage and craft a vision that reflected badly on her own part.

It had been a couple of weeks since they filmed that performance, and a week since the episode was released, and Y/N was still on bed rest. Anytime a member saw her hobbling about they'd immediately do the thing she wanted for her, or escort her back to her room. Cutting a long story short, she felt like she was in a hell of some kind. Y/N longed for her independence, which added on top of the reasons why she was feeling so angry and upset and just... jumbled at the moment. It wasn't even like she could hang out with Hyunjin, because when the members left for practice, not before checking up on her of course, she would be left alone in the dorms. Hyunjin was spending his hiatus at home at the moment, but she was excited to see him soon after filming for Kingdom was finished.

Shuffling out of bed, and letting out a harsh breath at the pain that hit her mid section, Y/N slowly stood, now having to hobble across her bedroom floor with crutches, careful not to further distress her sprained ankle. Some say she was lucky it was only a sprain, but really it was a pretty severe one that was she lucky it didn't do any permanent damage.

"You should be in bed," Lee Know sternly said, back turned to her as she entered the kitchen.

"How did you know it was me?" Y/N pouted, letting out a groan as she leant against the kitchen counter.

"Here let me, careful, careful," Han gently supported her weight momentarily, helping her into a seat and offering a smile at her.

"Thanks, Hannie," Y/N smiled at her squirrel like member, turning back to Lee Know.

"Not hard to distinguish the difference between crutches and hobbling, to normal footsteps. Plus you normally run in for my breakfasts but you can't do that at the moment," Lee Know tapped Y/N on the nose as he put a plate of pancakes in front of her.

"Hey... don't remind me," Y/N said, shoulders feeling tense as her irritation was evident on her face.

"Yeah, you'd normally be the first one in here," Seungmin chuckled.

"Stop," Y/N slammed her fork down against the table, feeling bad for suddenly lashing out but she also felt so annoyed at the fact she currently couldn't do less.

"Sorry, sorry, we won't mention it no more, unless you want to, okay?" Felix calmed her down, one hand on her shoulder as the other ran through her hair.

"No, it's okay, I'm sorry, it's just... It's really annoying, I've ranted enough about it, you guys already know what I think about it all," Y/N waved her hand dismissively after her apology.

"Doesn't mean we don't want to hear it," Changbin reminded her, as he always did, being the great listener he is.

"Yeah, plus you know you've got our support and the fans' too, right?" Jeongin quietly pitched in, still not fully awake himself.

"I know, I know," Y/N nodded, taking a bite of her pancakes, humming in delight.

"Good?" Lee Know rose an eyebrow from across the table at her, a satisfied smile appearing on his face when she nodded enthusiastically.

Bang Chan emerged from his room just a everyone was finishing breakfast.

"Come on, time to go!"

"You missed breakfast," Changbin tutted at him, Chan only able to respond with a sheepish smile.

"You have to go so soon?" Y/N asked quietly. She could already predict how her day was going to go. Lay down, watch Netflix, sleep, repeat.

"Sorry sweetheart, got a lot of recordings to do today and we need to practice for collab stages on the show," Chan felt bad for his dongsaeng, he could tell she was feeling lonely, but they all tried their best to keep her in the loop.

"I can't even sing on the tracks?" Y/N asked hopefully, but even she knew that the answer would be...

"No, I'm sorry, you know it could make your ribs feel worse if you do. And you know you've got a physio session today, right? Seojun hyung will come round to pick you up and take you there," Chan reminded her, as she let out a groan.

"Ugh, I forgot about that. At least it gets me out of the dorms for an hour or so," she tried to see the positive side.

"See, not too bad!" Jeongin tried to encourage her, but it fell on deaf ears, knowing no one else would want to be in her position right now.

"Can someone help me to the sofa before you guys head out?" Y/N asked awkwardly. She always was awkward when doing so, feeling a guilt of some sorts that crept up on her in these types of situations.

"If we must," Seungmin playfully rolled his eyes, but was gentle nonetheless as he and Felix supported her onto the sofa.

"You comfy?" Felix double checked, shoving a pillow underneath her lower back to help with the healing of her ribs.

Y/N nodded as she took in some deep breaths, the short walk from the kitchen to the lounge leaving her a bit breathless.

"Are you sure you'll be okay, Y/Nnie?" Han bit the top of his thumb worriedly.

"I'm fine, I've got Netflix to keep me company for now, I'll see you guys later," Y/N didn't even look at them as they left, turning the TV on and hoping to block out her jealousy and irritation.

There was a knock on the door before it was unlocked and Y/N couldn't believe that she had already watched 6 episodes of Modern Family.

"Hi Seojun oppa," Y/N greeted him as he helped her stand and grabbed her crutches.

"Hi, Y/Nnie, how are you feeling today? Ready for your physio?" Seojun said warmly.

"I'm never ready, you know that," she laughed as he helped her out of the dorms and took her to the physio session.

On the way there they listened to some music, and Y/N fought deep within herself to not put her all into singing along. She couldn't make things worse. She wanted to recover as soon as possible.

Throughout the session Y/N herself felt like she was making good progress. Seojun and her physiotherapist, Soyeon, praised her as she did her exercises.

"So, only 2 more weeks left, yeah? Then it's been 4 weeks like you said and I can start working again," Y/N said with a big smile on her face. She was in a good mood from how the session went, which was soon to disappear.

"Yes, I did say 4 weeks, but I also said 4-6 weeks. Unfortunately it seems like your body is taking longer to heal than we initially expected, which isn't anything to worry about but I believe your healing process will be more in the 6 weeks," Soyeon informed Y/N, feeling bad for the younger girl.

"Right, okay, yeah, that's fine... thank you as always, Soyeon," Y/N said with a tight lipped smile and turned to Seojun with a look that said 'I want to go home now'.

And he complied. The manager felt bad, hearing the sniffles Y/N tried to hide during the journey back to the dorms. But knowing the girl, he didn't want to make a big deal of it, and simply passed her a tissue, knowing she would be thankful.

He helped her back into the dorms and took her to bed, letting her rest and feeling slightly reluctant to leave, he eventually did, sending a text to the other Stray Kids members to let them know how she was doing.

'Y/N isn't feeling too cheery. Not a good result to the session today, she's back home now. Could do with some comfort I think.'

And with that, the boys rushed home as soon as they could, not wanting their fellow member to be feeling upset. They knew she was angry, but they hadn't really seen her sadness or tears since the day her injury happened.

"Y/N?" there was a tentative knock on the door.

But Y/N didn't answer, she was too busy being curled up warmly under her duvet, her own sobs sounding muffled to her as she listened to some sad music through her airpods.

"Y/Nnie, hey sweetheart," Chan said softly, brushing her hair out of her face and removing her airpods.

"Adele? Damn she is going through it," Seungmin muttered to himself as he put the listening device to his ear, wincing lightly when Changbin heard and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Go away," Y/N tried to pull the duvet over her head not wanting the boys to see her upset but failed.

"Hey, hey, none of that, what happened at the physio appointment today?" Chan asked worriedly, thumbs swiping away the tears that ran down her face.

"Was it something serious?" Jeongin asked frowning, hoping that it wouldn't be.

Felix sat around the other side of Y/N cuddling her behind gently, for comfort.

"I've got 4 more weeks of this. 4 more weeks of doing nothing," Y/N sniffled, Felix rubbing her stomach in circles with his hand that was draped lightly across her midriff.

"I thought it was 2 more weeks?" Lee Know wondered out loud.

"Me too, but now I'm stuck here like this for even longer. Something about not healing as they expected," Y/N hiccuped on her sobs.

"Calm down, you're working yourself up, it'll be ok, those weeks will fly by," Changbin soothed her as he patted her head.

"I just hate doing nothing. I feel like I'm making you guys do all the work and making you babysit me when I should be pulling my own weight," Y/N confessed after calming herself down a bit.

"It's not like that at all. Plus, we love babysitting our maknae," Han let her know, patting her leg from where he was perched on the bed.

"Speak for yourself," Seungmin joked, making Y/N laugh, and then stop from the pain in her ribs.

"Here, silly, take these," Lee Know handed her some paracetamol to take, shaking his head fondly at her.

"I'm not silly," Y/N sleepily muttered after taking the tablets, leaning back into Felix's arms.

"You are for thinking you're making us do all the work," Chan sighed, still smiling at the girl.

"Yeah, don't worry, there's plenty for you to do when you're up and about," Lee Know said with a devilish smirk.

"That's fine by me," Y/N yawned, eyes fluttering shut.

"She's the only person I know that can sleep so comfortably at the idea of having lots of work to do," Jeongin shook his head with wide eyes.

"Told you, works like a charm," Lee Know laughed quietly at his shocked face.

They all stayed until she fell asleep, leaving just her and Felix in the room in peace.

tagged: @oo-li

#skz #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids #straykids imagines #skz fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth member #stray kids ninth #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #stray kids x y/n

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cleostoohot · 2 years

Text

my long awaited void state success story ˘ ³˘

some of y’all may know that my #1 goal when i started this blog was to finally enter the void state. i knew i could manifest without it but for some reason i felt like it was a necessity to enter that state in order to change my life entirely. i later found many other distractions and methods that made me not desire the void state as much as i did. i was able to completely change my appearance, my relationships, personality, mental health, and much more without using that method which made me completely take it off the pedestal. but recently i entered it, here’s how it went…

how did i enter? i was meditating (per usual) and the void state entered my mind for the first time in a minute. something told me “just do it” even though i have no active desires. i tried to think of at least a couple things to manifest but i couldn’t come up with some but i was still gonna do it anyway. so i just laid in the position i usually sleep in and started affirming…

- the void state is easy to enter

- i love being in the void state

- i enter the void state effortlessly

(those are the only affirmations i remember affirming).

my intention was to wake up in the void state so i just affirmed and affirmed until i fell asleep. then boom… i woke up in the void state. i knew for a fact that i was in it when i absolutely could not feel my body. i was literallyyy nothing but my mind. that was one of the main things i never understood about the void state prior to entering it: how the hell do you not feel your body at all? but it was just like i was fully relaxed and floating. moving on, i wasn’t super excited like i thought i would be, i just felt regular.. like it wasn’t new to me. maybe that’s because i’ve known about it for so long but wasn’t obsessing over it idk. also! i heard that some people see stars when they’re in that state, ian see no damn stars everything was black as shit. and it wasn’t scary at all either so stop letting fear stop you.

okay moving on fr, since i had no desires at the moment i just decided to manifest having the best manifesting skills meaning that all i have to do is affirm once and then i have it instantly. the affirmation i used was “i have mastered manifesting”. after that i just set the intention to wake up at 8am (my sleep schedule has been really fucked up for the past few weeks so when i was setting that intention to wake up at 8am i low key assumed that my sleep schedule would be fixed so i guess you can say i manifested fixing my sleep too).

of course, at 8am i woke up and everything was normal of course. you know when you just had a long ass dream that you thought was real but wake up just to realize it’s fake and you try to comprehend everything?? yeah i was starring at the wall for like 5 minutes before i actually got up lollll. i knew the void state was real but finally entering it just felt like a huge achievement. the first thing i manifested was an ice cold lemonade to be on my dresser (the ones that they sell at chinese food restaurants! blessed) and after i affirmed i literally watched it appear on my dresser! instantly! it was sooo cool i’m happy i manifested that skill cus as someone who used to be soo impatient… i very much deserve this.

i’ve gotten into the void state over 2 weeks ago (august 31st) and since then i’ve manifested much other things. i can make another post soon but for today i just wanted to share the story. it was so easy for me to get in and it can be just as easy for you too <3.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #neville goddard #self concept #void success #void state #success story

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Steve Harrington having a stutter? maybe Eddie and Steve are in an interview after revealing their relationship to the public (kinda ties with ur rockstar eddie drabbles?) and people make fun of his stutter. Hes always had it, he just doesn't talk in public so its a surprise to everyone that he has a stutter and that they actually get to hear his voice

So I know the request said he always had the stutter, but I wanted to do something head trauma related for this because Eddie is gonna get a little overprotective and says some stuff about his very amazing husband to be. I've never written a character having a stutter before, so I hopefully made it realistic. In my head, he struggled with some hard consonants and 'th', 'ch', and 'sh' sounds. - Mickala ❤️

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

“Everyone please give your warmest welcome to Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington!”

They walked onto the stage with smiles and waves, hands clasped between them as they walked to the couch they’d be sitting on for their interview.

They chose this talk show host, Hannah, because she wasn’t pushy, asked heartfelt questions, and wanted to get the genuine stories out there.

Steve had been nervous to be on any talk show, so he was the one who made the decision to be on this one and Eddie was happy to oblige.

Her viewers may not have been his usual crowd, but if it made Steve more comfortable, he didn’t really care.

“Wow, that was a warm welcome!” Eddie exclaimed.

He wanted to keep it light; Steve’s hand in his was sweaty and shaking, and he knew Hannah could see his nerves.

“I think everyone is just so excited to have you here! You’re not our usual guest, I’ll be honest, so you’re shaking things up for all of us.” She smiled before looking at Steve. “Now, let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way first. Steve, that ring on your finger sure is a beauty!”

He glanced down at it for a moment, smiling to himself.

Eddie proposed a month ago, on their week-long getaway to Greece, and as much as they tried to hide it, it was on the cover of every tabloid and online news article within 24 hours.

They hadn’t even come out officially yet.

It caused Steve to panic, and then Eddie panicked, and then they both decided to take control of their own narrative and do this interview.

“Th-thank you,” Steve replied. “Eddie did g-good, didn’t he?”

Steve’s stutter was barely noticeable when they were in a comfortable environment, especially since they’d been together for so long. But when they were in a stressful situation, or around new people, or both, it became more obvious.

Steve had already spoken to Hannah about it beforehand, said he wouldn’t mind talking about it as long as it wasn’t the focus of the interview. She agreed and said that she would follow his lead on everything, and Eddie warned her he wouldn’t hesitate to walk them both off the stage if Steve got uncomfortable.

“He did great! Honestly, I’ll have to get you to show my husband how to pick an engagement ring. Bless his heart, he tried. Luckily, we married for love and not his ability to know what I want in a ring.”

The audience laughed, and Steve couldn’t help letting out a small giggle.

“Soooo…tell us how he did it!” Hannah continued, eyes glimmering under the stage lights.

“Um.” Steve took in a shaky breath. “We were at a p-priv-vate d-dinner on the beach-ch.” Eddie squeezed his hand once, smiling over at him as he let him lead. “He s-sang me a s-song and th-then proposed.”

“How romantic,” Hannah rested her head in her hands and sighed. “Everyone in the audience is going to show this to their significant others for them to take notes, I’m sure.”

“He left out the part where I also bought him the fancy wine he wanted only for it to be the worst thing we’ve ever tasted and we ended up giving it to a couple further down the beach,” Eddie added, playfully nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah, w-well,” Steve shrugged, blushing profusely.

“What a letdown! Hopefully the other couple liked it,” Hannah laughed.

“They didn’t complain, but honestly we didn’t stick around for too long. We were freshly engaged and had much better things to be doing,” Eddie winked at the audience.

“Oh, I bet you did!” Hannah smiled before getting more serious. “So you’ve been together for a while?”

“We were friends when we were really young, and it grew into more when Steve was supporting me and my band in the local bar scene. We’ve dated for almost four years now.”

“Awww. And you’ll be getting married pretty soon, right?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, we d-decided on next March-ch,” Steve added. “Spring is when w-we met-t.”

“Lovely! I’m sure the wedding will be quite the party.”

“We’re keeping it pretty small, just family and our circle of friends. My bandmates will be there. Just us back at home with the people who love us,” Eddie smiled.

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Hannah clapped her hands. “So, Eddie, with all this excitement in your personal life, what’s it look like for the band?”

“I’ll be on tour with them for August and September, and then we’ll be working hard on recording the next album in October and November so we can have it out next year. I won’t be doing anything else until after the wedding, though. I promised Stevie I’d help him plan everything.”

The crowd cheered, and Steve spoke up.

“He also p-promised t-to visit the loc-cation with me in Novemb-ber so we’ll see,” Steve teased, seeming to relax quite a bit more.

The interview carried on, mostly focusing on Eddie’s band and some more casual talk of the wedding and future plans.

Steve never completely relaxed, but he seemed much more at ease as Hannah focused more on Eddie for a few minutes, smiling at Steve when he decided to add something.

“Alright, that’s all the time we have boys! It was lovely to have you and we’re so looking forward to your future together!”

The audience cheered, the boys waved goodbye, and they walked back to the green room to grab some water before going back to their hotel.

Eddie stopped Steve in the hall, ignoring the people passing by, and pulled Steve against him.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he whispered against his lips before pressing a soft kiss there. “You’re amazing.”

“Eds, st-stop,” Steve blushed.

“Nope, wanna tell you all the time. You’re incredible.”

“F-fine.”

—--------------------

Steve is a lovely person, and I will not tolerate hate comments on anything related to the interview I did with him and Eddie. My team always does the best with reporting hate comments, so keep that in mind before posting something you may regret later. Any Eddie Munson fan should know that Eddie wouldn’t accept this disgusting behavior towards his fiance.

Steve could feel tears welling in his eyes as he read Hannah’s lovely public comment about some of the hate she’d been receiving in regards to their interview.

One comment in particular had hurt to see: a fan claiming that Eddie just felt bad for him and didn’t want to break up with him because Steve would run to the press with negative stories about him.

Eddie was still asleep, hadn’t seen most of what was being posted since the interview aired first thing that morning, but Steve did.

He liked Hannah’s statement and posted it to his Instagram story with a heart emoji.

He went through some responses from Eddie’s bandmates and liked them, too.

Steve is probably the best thing that’s happened to all of us, so any “fan” of ours who doesn’t see how awesome he is, consider yourself uninvited to any show. Gareth posted.

You guys better hope Eddie doesn’t hop on here and see all this or he’ll end up hunting you for sport. Jeff joked, though Steve knew that he may be more right than not.

Imagine being so jealous of someone that you decide to make fun of the one thing they’re self-conscious about. Couldn’t be me. Grant posted on all his social media profiles.

Then he saw Robin’s post and his heart stopped for a moment.

My best friend is the bravest person I know. He only has a stutter because he risked his life to protect me. If head trauma is a joke to you, then I hope you find new material soon. When Eddie sees this, he’s gonna lose his shit.

Steve let out a mix of a sob and a laugh, startling Eddie awake.

“What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat up in their bed.

“I g-guess p-people aren’t a b-big fan of me,” he said as he held his phone out towards Eddie to show him what was going on.

Eddie’s face flushed red with anger before he calmly handed Steve his phone back.

“Eds?”

Eddie silently reached for his own phone and pulled up his notes app.

Steve watched him type furiously for a few minutes, then screenshot a couple of times, and open Instagram.

“Eds…it’s fine. Not w-worth it.”

But it was too late, and Steve’s phone went off with a notification that he’d been tagged in Eddie’s post.

It was a series of pictures, the first being a picture taken of them shortly after Steve’s worst head injury, when he barely could speak at all.

The next few images were the screenshots from Eddie’s phone.

I can’t believe I have to say this, but here goes. Steve Harrington, soon-to-be Munson, is the best person I know. I am lucky to be able to wake up next to him, to call him mine, to be his. He is incredibly brave, incredibly loving, and much too forgiving. He will be much nicer than I will. He is not defined by his stutter, but it is a part of his life, and it does impact him much more than he should ever have to worry about. But that picture you just saw? That was a man who could barely even say my name. I thought I would never hear him even say my name��again. I’ve seen comments making fun of how he talks, how long it takes him to say some things, his intelligence. And I won’t tolerate it. If you have anything negative to say about him, unfollow me before I block you myself. Fame means absolutely nothing to me compared to this man, and I won’t let him suffer through the bullying just so I can make some fucking music. See yourself out or see us be happy. Up to you.

The last image was a picture of them the night before, cozy in their bed, Steve looking into the camera while Eddie looked at him, so much love passing from him it was almost a physical presence.

“Eds-” Steve started.

“I love you. I won’t let anyone let you think for a second that I don’t,” Eddie said fiercely.

“I know. I l-love you, t-too.”

They both shut off their phones for the rest of the day, didn’t care much for anything outside of their bed.

Steve called Hannah to thank her for everything the next day, and she was grateful to hear from him. He explained that he wouldn’t be doing any more interviews, but was glad he’d had a positive experience with her.

“Do you think Eddie will come back to the show someday to talk about you?” she asked.

“I th-think you’ll reg-gret asking him back. He won’t sh-shut up about me,” Steve smirked to himself.

“He shouldn’t. You’re both so lucky to have each other.”

“Yeah. W-we are.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #rock star eddie munson #modern au #established relationship

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theheartbreakprincesss · 1 month

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red lips and rosy cheeks, a criminal minds imagine

pairings: fem!reader x bau!team (platonically of course) and fem!reader x spencer reid (if you squint a little)

word count: 800ish

warnings: none i think. no use of y/n because i don’t really vibe with that. no angst, a little fluff, maybe? it’s mostly just funny i think. also not beta-read, or like we say in ao3, no beta we die like men.

author’s note: i have been binge-watching criminal minds for a couple weeks now and of course i’m obsessed with it, and this visual of spencer becoming a little flustered over seeing his crush all dressed up popped into my mind. it’s my first time writing an imagine with the reader as the main piece in the story, so idk be gentle with me? i also never wrote for criminal minds and i’m only in season 4. i just wrote this instead of sleeping or actually writing my other fics. sorry if this is terrible anyway. i’m open to feedback! thanks for reading <3

Working for the FBI could be a handful, sometimes, but the job had its benefits. You could catch criminals and help people, make a difference, you know? But something you would never expect to count as a benefit was the possibility of being called in the middle of a date.

You didn’t even want to go on that date, but your long-time friend Emma had insisted she knew a guy that would be perfect for you. Emma knew you since you both were undergraduates working on their degrees, so you had figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a chance.

It wasn’t your best moment.

Not that the guy turned out to be a psychopath or something like that. But the ice of your drink had barely started to melt when it became clear that Sean wasn’t the guy for you, and by the end of your martini, you could see that Sean was too self-centered and trying too hard to be something he was not, with the fake watch and the well-pressed but clearly cheap suit and exaggerated tales of his life. An hour into the date and you were begging to the universe to offer you a way out of that bar.

Thankfully the universe seemed to listen to your plea, and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw Garcia’s name on the screen as the phone rang. Apparently, Hotch wanted everyone at the office right that moment.

That hurry was what prompted you to go into the BAU headquarters straight from your date, thinking that a stop by your apartment to change would take too much time and that you could take the clothes out of your go bag and change out of your outfit once you got there.

“Hey there.” you greeted as you walked into the bullpen. “Is everyone here yet?”

“Rossi and Prentiss are on their way.” Morgan said from his desk. “Wonder boy is getting coffee.”

“Oh, okay.” you mumbled, moving to take off your coat and wondering if you would have time to wipe off the red lipstick before the briefing.

“Damn, pretty girl.” you heard Morgan say, that suggestive tone in his voice that annoyed the life out of you. “Did we interrupt something?”

“Only the most boring date I have ever been on.” you scoffed, nervously fixing your dress. It wasn’t inappropriate or something, just very different from what you used to wear. It had been Emma’s idea, actually, to pair that black sleeveless dress with knee-high boots. “He spent the entire time talking about himself.” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, look at you!” Garcia exclaimed as she got into the bullpen. “You look like a million bucks, darling.”

“Thank you, Pen.” you said. “What’s the case about?”

“A woman went missing in Indiana this morning in the same way three more disappeared in the last month before they were found dead.” JJ told, walking out of her office. “Oh, hot date tonight?” she asked.

“Disappointing, actually.” you laughed. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind Penelope.

“About her date.” Garcia said. Spencer joined them as they all stood near your desk, two coffee mugs in his hands. His messy hair was the first thing you noticed, looking like he had been dragged out of his bed. He handed you the second coffee mug, the one with little cartoon kittens stamped on it, then his eyes really focused on you.

“Oh, thank you.” you mumbled, taking a sip of it.

“I– yeah, I…” he stammered, eyes moving up and down, up and down.

“Are you alright, Doc?” you asked, using the nickname you had given him a few weeks into working together.

“Ooh, I think you broke pretty boy.” Morgan laughed.

“It’s probably the red lipstick.” Garcia pointed out, joining Derek in his laughs. You waited for one of Spencer’s famous info-dumps, where he would talk about how red lipstick used to be made out of crushed beetles in Ancient Egypt or something, but he was still silent, lips parted like he meant to say something but couldn’t figure out what.

“Do you need me to reset you or something?” you were now having a bit of fun with it. It wasn’t like you were trying to be mean, but both of you had been dancing around unspoken feelings for a while now.

“I… you look pretty.” Spencer finally managed to say.

You put the mug to your lips, trying to hide the blood that was rushing to your cheeks as Morgan whistled.

“Go on, wonder boy.”

“Derek? Shut up.” then, you looked at Spencer again, who was timidly smiling at you.“Thanks.” you mumbled.

Spencer looked at the mug on your hands, focusing on the stain of your lipstick on the rim of the mug.

“Uh, did you know that the first known red lipsticks were created by crushing gemstones in Mesopotamia over 5.000 years ago?”

•

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nsharks · 1 year

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buckshot | simon “ghost” riley

words: 2.4k

plot: simon teaches you how to use a shotgun so you can protect the family while he’s gone.

tags: mostly fluff, dad simon, a small touch of smut, lots of gun talk, fem!reader

a/n: I am not pro-guns at all this is just a fic. also based on my research shotguns and hunting rifles are the only guns you can own in the uk.

“Why the hell not?”

Simon is standing in the doorway of your bathroom, arms crossed and his mask off as he watches you brush your hair.

Sharing a home with him, and now a baby with him, has made Simon the most protective person you’d ever met. Perhaps even more so in the past few months he’d been home since the birth of your son. He refused to let you do anything but rest and nurse for the first month. He’d wake up multiple times during the night just to check the locks on all the doors, and recheck them, and then check up on the baby’s room, as if someone could have snuck in and swept him away.

You’re paranoid, Simon, you’d told him a couple times. Groggy and woken up again by his nightly patrol. Sometimes you even caught him just sitting in the living room at ridiculous hours; he claimed that it was due to a bad dream, but you suspected he was trying to take “watch” while his family slept.

“Because, Simon,” you say in exasperation, seeing his irritated reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t like guns. Why would I want to shoot them?”

Simon always kept a shotgun hidden in the house.

You’d known that he had the license for it since before you. He even made you get licensed a couple years ago (in case of emergencies, he’d said). But you weren’t a fan of that sort of thing, and he hadn’t insisted on you actually using one until now.

“You don’t have to fuckin’ like them. You just have to know how to use one,” Simon says tersely. He runs a hand through his hair, an action he does only when he’s maskless around you. Even after all these years, it’s still a shocking sight to see him without the skull painted over his appearance.

Skull or not, he’s intimidating.

You don’t share his worries about your and the baby’s safety. Not when you’ve got him to scare people off.

“I really don’t want to,” you sigh, setting the brush down. Your voice is soft and careful, not wanting to fight him over something so ridiculous, especially when you’ve seen how paranoid he’s grown.

In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him with your hands placed on his bare chest, the strain of his muscles softening only slightly under your touch. It takes him a moment before his arms slide around your waist.

“Y/N,” he breathes out through his nostrils and leans over to touch his forehead to yours. “I’m… leavin’ soon. Next week. You’re not going to have me here in case… in case shit happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” you tell him in a whisper. “Not to me, not to our son.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, the notch in his throat presses against his skin as he swallows.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Can you just do this for me?” His forehead slides down to the dip in your neck, breathing in your neck like he always does, and his voice has turned hoarse. “I need to… keep you safe. Have to.”

You’ve only ever heard the story about his family and his little nephew once or twice. It’s not something you could bare thinking about when your son slept just meters away, but it crosses your mind.

Maybe Simon has a point.

It took him so long to feel safe, worthy, of growing this family with you.

You can only imagine the fear he must feel. How much responsibility he feels to make sure your fate doesn’t end up like the rest of his family members.

Hands moving to the expanse of his back, you melt into him and finally give in. “Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, okay. Show me how to use a gun, Simon.”

_____

You both feel awful saying goodbye to your son for the day.

It’s the first time you’ve asked for a nanny. Simon preformed his own “background check” on each name you listed off to him, names that had been mentioned to you by friends or family. After his thorough research, you had finally settled on someone to watch the baby while the two of you went on your “hunting” trip.

“I think he will miss you the most,” you’d pouted, watching Simon hold your son before you left.

The baby looked so small in his arms; even at three months old, Simon’s hand could cover the entirety of his little back.

“No way, love,” Simon gave a small kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You’re the one feedin’ him. He’s gonna miss the fresh meals more than his dad today.”

Now, not at home with the baby for the first time since his entrance in your lives, Simon is driving you down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. You have been awfully quiet the whole ride, equally as hesitant about the new babysitter as you are about what your husband is dragging you out here to do.

You know what he does. You’ve known perfectly well what Simon is infamous for, what his nickname is, and the long list of names of the people who have died at his hands. You’re okay with it since you never have to see it, because when it comes to violence, you are nothing like your husband. You used to catch Simon practically smirking when a gory or violent scene would come on in a movie. Meanwhile, you’d bury your gaze in his chest and grimace.

Don’t worry, pet, they’re not even showing it accurately, he’d tell you, as if that would help.

The place he stops at is a wooded area where the dirt road starts to dissipate into tall grasses. He claims to know the property’s owner so it’s fine for you to be there. He’s instructed you to wear long pants and comfy shoes for the occasion. For himself, he’s opted for black cargo pants and his painted balaclava.

“C’mon,” he says, stopping the car and eagerly getting the shotgun he brought out of the trunk.

You follow him into the woods. Something about his confidence indicates that he’s been here before, but you’ve never known him to hunt animals, especially with what his father used to do with them.

“We’re not… we’re not killing anything, right?” you ask when he finally stops walking. There’s nothing but tall trees around you and the occasional bird or squirrel causing you to flinch in surprise.

Simon’s too busy loading the gun to look at you.

“No.”

Something about his voice is different than the Simon you know. Concentrating intently, he closes the shotgun and then reaches for your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Take it,” he says huskily. Your fingers outstretch to wrap around the gun and take it from his hold. It feels… heavier than you anticipated and your grasp is awkward, the butt of it pressing into your chest.

“Well, not like that,” you can almost hear the amusement in his voice, but then it sobers, deepening with a tone of command. “Place this hand on the stock wrist.”

He’s behind your body, closely pressed against you so he can maneuver your hands where he wants them. You’re trying your best to focus since this is a serious situation, a loaded gun in your hands, but it’s hard not to feel the satisfying warmth emitted from his chest.

Once Simon seems satisfied, he asks you, “How does it feel?”

“Heavy,” you admit.

“Let’s fix your stance,” he instructs gruffly, “That should help.”

He uses his booted foot to tap against your feet, urging them further apart until they’re about shoulder-width. He shows you how to stand properly, how to bend your knees slightly and keep the gun high by your cheek as you hold it. He tells you to keep your feet planted to absorb the recoil. You’re doing your best to follow his instructions, feeling like one of his soldiers.

“Is this okay?” you ask, his hands dropping from yours so it’s only you now.

He takes a step back and inspects you with heavy eyes, the same eyes he drags over your naked body in bed. But this time, he’s not inspecting every detail of your bare skin and reveling in the beautiful sight of your curves and dips. Instead, he is inspecting the quality of your stance as you hold a weapon, and you try your best to appear confident under your husband’s experienced gaze.

“Good girl,” he finally says. The praise makes you shudder. “You’ve got a solid stance.”

“Can I shoot it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He shakes his head and leaves you to grab his backpack. He pulls out a couple of empty bottles.

“Point it at the ground, love,” he orders before he steps in front of you. You obey, lowering your aim and being mindful not to shoot him as he places the bottles on a fallen tree in front of you.

Once he’s out of the way, back by your side and wrapping his arm around your waist, you lift the shotgun back to the position he has showed you. His hot breath floods through his mask and tickles your neck.

“There’s a safety lock on it,” he mutters lowly, pointing to a little switch next to the trigger. “You need to move it if you want to shoot.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks flushing from the sound of his voice. “Should I unlock it now?”

“Go ahead,” Simon says, “The gun in the house is loaded. You just have to unlock it if you ever need it”

There’s something about the way Simon’s powerful presence envelops you that makes your head feel fuzzy. It’s time to shoot now, but your heart is thumping wildly and you can’t help but lean into him.

“Can you… can you shoot it with me? For the first one?”

“Just the first one,” he warns, but is already placing his hands over yours, touch warm and strong and reassuring. There is always safety to be found in his touch. “Don’t worry so much about aim, alright? These aren’t regular slugs. They’re buckshot’s.”

You blink. “What?”

“They have a bunch of little pellets, not a single projectile. It’ll be easier for you.”

Although you are wildly out of your element, he is comfortably in his. You’re almost certain this isn’t even the kind of gun he uses in the field, but still, it is a language he is readily able to speak no matter the weapon.

“Finger on the trigger,” he murmurs in your ear.

Your finger finds the curve of the trigger, his finger following yours so you’re not pressing it on your own. There’s not another second for you to hesitate before he’s shooting it for you, bringing your finger down with his. The shot rings out. Echoes among the wilderness along with the sound the shattering bottle.

The recoil presses you further into his hold, but he keeps a firm grip on you, taking most of it in himself.

“I’ve got ya,” he assures you, noticing the wideness of your eyes. “That was good. You did good.“

“Oh, wow,” you sputter. The strength of it, the feeling of its power beneath your gentle hands, is not what you imagined. You wonder what it feels like to have this frightening kind of rush all the time. How it must feel to watch a body take the bullet rather than a bottle.

“On your own now,” Simon huffs.

The warmth and security of his touch is lost when he steps away and leaves the gun in your hands. The weight causes your hands to falter, but you repeat everything he’s told you in your head and adjust your grip. You want to show him you can handle yourself. Ease his worries with the assurance that you’re not weak and incapable whenever he’s gone.

But you hesitate.

Swallowing, you take your eyes off the next bottle to look at him for help. “Simon, I can’t-“

“Hey, hey.” The command in his voice remains, firm yet gentle. “Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“But… but I’m not you.”

“You don’t have to be me to shoot a shotgun.” His eyes catch yours and he gives a small nod of encouragement. “It’s just for protection, yeah? Not trying to turn you into a soldier.”

With the small encouragement, your finger returns to the trigger. You widen your stance a little. Keep the gun’s stock up by your cheek. You feel his eyes watching you carefully, but for just a moment, you pretend Simon isn’t there. Because the truth is, he’s not there all the time. There are stretches of time when the only person you, and now your son, have to rely on is you, and that’s not a responsibility you take lightly.

You shoot the gun and the next bottle shatters.

The strong recoil causes your feet to dig into the dirt and your body shudders.

“Christ, nice shot,” you hear Simon say over your steady breathing. You lower the gun and beam at him, the rush from the shot filling you with confidence.

“Thanks to you, lieutenant.”

_____

Practicing until all the bottles are broken leaves you with a sense of adrenaline that Simon assures you he knows how to soothe. The sun starts to set as he gets you back to the car, but once you’re inside, he’s pulling you onto his lap and attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans against your skin and anxiously peels off your top, your pants, every piece of fabric that gets in his way. He kisses the marks that pregnancy has left behind, always supplying them with adoration. His skin is hot to the touch, just as consuming as it had been during his teachings, and when he starts moaning into your neck about how fucking hot you are, you wonder if seeing you shoot a gun is the cause of the wild lust in his voice.

“Got to reward you,” he hums low, giving you his fingers just how he knows you like them. “You were such a good girl for me.”

When you’re back home that night, finally leaving after his reward in the car, Simon is the one to put the baby to bed. Then, he joins you in your room, slipping his warm body under the blankets beside you, and sleeping through the night for the first time in months. He thinks, maybe, now he won’t be quite as worried when he has to leave you both next week.

——

a/n: ok I promise simon picked up all the glass and threw it away somewhere because he’s not a litterer 👍🏻 also I don’t like any kind of gun at all and I’d prefer if they didn’t exist but I can understand why someone like simon would feel safer with one in his house given his past

#simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #fluff #cod #tw gun

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what-even-is-thiss · 2 years

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Changing people's minds on major things is actually a very long and difficult process for both parties. I didn't actually believe that pedestrian-centric city design would be better for people that drive cars until I spent almost a year living without a car and watched hours of youtube videos explaining the issue to me. Turns out that traffic actually does go down and driving does become more pleasant if you make it harder to drive a car and easier to walk. I just straight-up refused to believe that for years. Because people just talked about it like it was obvious. But it wasn't. Because I had spent my whole life in a car-centric city going around in a car and also I was an English major in college who did not study urban planning. You can't expect me to change my entire mindset around transportation all at once. I did reach a eureka moment like two weeks ago but that was after like three years of getting exposed to these ideas periodically and living without a car for 11 months.

And yeah this post is about my big dumb animal brain accepting the science behind narrow roads and the evils of certain types of zoning laws, but it's also about stuff in general. If you don't know why someone isn't changing their mind on something, it's probably because the information they're getting hasn't reached a critical mass in their monkey brain yet. Whenever you hear stories about people changing their minds on things or leaving a certain ideology the story never goes "A person on the internet did a slam dunk on me and then I changed my mind."

It's usually a long process that happens over the course of months or years. Seeds planted here and there that coalesce eventually into a new thought or ideology over the course of years or snap together or send someone down a new path after a certain event. Same with me about pedestrian-centric cities. For me the tipping point was finding this video, which isn't necessarily super special or the best and the guy who runs the channel, in my opinion, isn't the most qualified or the most sympathetic towards every city in every situation, but it was the feather that tipped the scales in my brain to "Oh, wait. Maybe everything I thought I knew about how cities work is wrong actually." But that video alone didn't change my mind. With the amount of stuff and people that have gradually and gently been giving me information over the past couple years, something else was bound to eventually change my mind.

People on Tumblr yelling about abolishing the car, if anything, slowed down me changing my mind. Every time I saw a person saying that driving cars is stupid and that cars are bad I took a step back into my old way of thinking in defense. Because I grew up only ever using a car to get around. Rhetoric like that felt like a direct attack on my family, who I know to be loving people who care about other human beings and who drive cars literally everywhere.

And you might say, posts and videos like that aren't actually an attack on people that drive or have to drive. Okay then. Why are they phrased like that? Because that makes you feel good? Because you're angry? Alright, your anger at how it's currently impossible to get around if you don't own a car and how people who don't actually want to drive are being forced to drive is reasonable. And now I understand why it exists. I'm kind of angry too now that I get how this stuff works. However, is calling the people you're trying to convince stupid to their face and immediately bombarding them with your most radical ideas that might be completely detached from their reality and how they understand the world really the most productive way to channel your anger?

What about a guy with a knee problem that lives in rural Appalachia? Do you think he is gonna be convinced by your angry rants about bike lanes? No. He lives on a mountain that he can't climb or bike up because he's disabled and has only ever known getting around in a car. What about a person who overheats easily living in a suburb in the middle of the desert? Do you think she is inspired by your green lush pictures of trolleys running through parks in The Netherlands? No. If she leaves her house for too long without ice water she could literally die and you're going on about getting rid of, in her mind, the only thing that lets her go to the grocery store and not faint.

And again, this post is about my inability to comprehend walkable cities, but it's also about everything else you might ever want to convince someone of. The way you talk about things with your in-group that knows exactly what you're talking about should not be the same way you talk about that thing with people that you're genuinely trying to convince of something.

#roman said a thing #rant #ok to reblog

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pascalcampion · 6 months

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Under the Boardwalk.

I was at Lightbox a few weeks ago and I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. ( hey Francis! We need to do lunch) He was laughing because he said that he had just seen a trailer for this thing I did some work on years ago. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Under the Boardwalk. Movies do take a while to get done.

Anytime I see a movie in a theater that doesn’t come from Pixar, Disney, Illumination or Dreamworks, I clap my hands in my mind. It is SO hard to get to the finish line. Each movie that you see is the result of a series of small miracles.

I did a couple months of work on it. I was think it was in preproduction at the time. It was called Jersey Crabs at the time and there were only three people on it. At least, I only met three.

There was Chris Zibach, Ericka Stewart and David Soren.

I had just come off of two rather long and hard productions and I was a bit burned out about Art direction, production design or just… design in general.

When I first got an email about this, I wasn’t sure. But I went over to Paramount to meet with all three of them.

And you know what? They were fantastic.

Ericka was the producer and she had this no nonsense approach. Tell me your price, I’ll tell you if we can do it, if not we’ll figure something out. Boom. Done. She cut to the chase and any time I had a question she would reply within the hour. Her feedback was always short and precise, and she was always encouraging. After I was gone, she emailed me a couple of times to follow up on this or that. She didn’t leave any loose ends AND, something that is absolutely remarkable in this industry, she would reply to emails. She didn’t simply reply when she needed something, but when I would ask her if I could send recommendations, or if there were any other projects going on, she would send me an email back. I think the longest it took her to reply was TWO days, which is incredible.

Chris Zibach. It wasn’t immediately clear what Chris’s role on this was. I knew he was an artist. I had met him a few years prior while visiting a friend at Dreamworks TV I think. He was quieter than Ericka. Not sure if he was shy or I was simply too aloof for him to talk to me. For whatever reason, when I saw him, I thought of Tim Burton. Maybe the genius in him? Not sure. Later, I learned he was the production designer. I was surprised because that is something I typically learn on the first meeting. I was also unsure of his role because I hadn’t seen any of his work before and he didn’t act like any of the production designers I had met before. He wasn’t bombastic or sure of himself. He wasn’t trying to win me over with his talent or past battlefield experiences. He was humble. Yes, I think that’s probably the right word. Humble. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out if it was humility or something else.

It became clear after the first few designs of his I’d seen and especially after I had done a sketch for a moment that I couldn’t quite picture. I wasn’t understanding what they were looking for and Chris did this thirty second sketch that was SO clear, SO readable and SO easy to work with, and I was. OH! Ok.. he’s the real deal.

I love Artists like him. I wish I had worked with him more actually.

And, David Soren, the director

That was such an interesting meeting.

You know how sometimes you are hesitating on a project and you meet the team and all of a sudden it all flips? That’s how it was for this. I didn’t know what this story was based on, I didn’t find crabs particularly interesting, and the story, as it was pitched, wasn’t what I gravitate toward.

But David, wow. He had this energy in the meeting, this confidence. He was good at talking but he could listen AND hear you. He could also answer questions. Any type of question regarding the art, the story, the schedule, the planning. I didn’t know much about him but I came away very impressed.

I gave it a shot and now, I feel I was lucky to have been asked because, even if I was only on this for a very short while, it was one of those candy like work experiences. All good, nothing bad. Short and sweet and really fun.

There was a moment when I was drawing this big long scene that was supposed to be in the middle of a battle and I stopped, look at it and laughed on the inside because I had just realized I was being paid to do this and THIS was SO much fun.

I don’t know what my job was, what I was supposed to bring to the project. I didn’t understand why they had me do these designs when Chris’s work was so different and so unique already, but all three did a good job at quieting those thoughts.

I was working from home and they were on the lot. If I remember correctly, they would send me emails to broadly tell me “ There is a flood there, there is a battle there, there is club, a hotel, etc etc” and I would just do some images on what I thought it could be.

They already had some character designs, and Chris had done a few images, so I wasn’t totally going from nothing.

Each time I would send a set of images, I would get an email back the same day or the next day from either Ericka or David telling me something nice. Never from Chris though. I always wondered why but now I am realizing it was because he was too busy getting the whole thing off the ground.

I would get notes sometimes but not very often. Chris would do little drawers or notes on my images and, again, they were always minimal except for that one set piece and always clear.

I don’t know what the movie is like. I was still working on this when I started with the Peanuts Special which would occupy my life for the next three and a half years.

But I do know that I remember this as a very fun, loving and carefree work experience, which have not come around very often in my career.

Thank you Ericka, Chris and David.

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#undertheboardwalk paramount pascalcampion

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paper-crab · 5 months

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To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

summary: letters to your past crushes get out and its a whole mess, based on the movie/book, yadayada

warnings: swearing, cliché, very rushed

wc: 6914

ignore any grammar mistakes it’s too long for me to reread and if it doesn’t flow smoothly i’m so sorry i rushed it so bad

Writing letters was an emotional release; something healthy to pass the time, and look back on later.

That’s why you’d written a series of letters, spanning from 3rd grade to now- senior year. They were intimate letters, ones you wrote to get your mind off of a crush you’d gained, so when you’d looked for the box to add a new letter and couldn’t find it, you freaked out.

Luckily, younger you was only able to get her hands on two addresses.

Unfortunately, those addresses were the two worst ones you could have gotten. Everybody else had either moved, or come out. They were irrelevant.

Who had gotten the letters, however, were not irrelevant: your school's player, and your best friend's boyfriend. You were fully in panic mode now, how are you supposed to recover from that? You can only contemplate your options for so long before anxiety eats at you. Maybe if you skipped a week or so of school it would blow over.

“Yeah, not happening. Rise and shine.”

You groan. “Dad, you don’t understand. This could ruin my life, I might actually die.”

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to grovel and pick up the pieces of your pride.

In order to avoid your friend's boyfriend, you need to avoid her, which means you’re walking around school alone. You know you’ll need to have that awkward conversation, telling him ‘I liked you when you were just my childhood best friend- those feelings have passed’, but you also know that you are going to avoid it for as long as humanly possible. Asserting yourself was never really your strong suit.

You had grown up next door to her boyfriend, and fell out of touch with him in middle school. While he was blossoming as a social butterfly, you lurked in the background, like a moth drawn to his effervescent light. Like the sun, the light was too hot for you to stay in, and you stopped talking until mid junior year when your friend had reintroduced you.

The other letter, the heartthrob, had been a lot kinder in middle school. You’d heard some not-so-kind stories about him recently though, and they were the exact opposite of the kid, Matt, that you knew.

You hadn’t been particularly close or anything, only exchanging a few words in your 7th grade math class, but you were infatuated with him. When you were younger, he hardly talked, but lacrosse had brought him out of his shell; the shell you’d never managed to crack- or rather the cocoon you’d never emerged from.

Matt probably didn’t know your name, even though you’d boldly signed it in your letter, so you were confident he wouldn’t find you. It’d be just another day for him, hopefully.

Your friend's boyfriend, on the other hand, was constantly with you. He lived right next door to you, and you felt like it was impossible to avoid him. You’d try to get through the school day without an encounter, then lock yourself in your room to never be seen again.

The first couple periods you had? Had gone off without a hitch. Then you hit lunch, and even if you tried, you couldn’t run from your friend forever. She found you, her boyfriend trailing behind.

“I missed you this morning!” She tells you, reaching to give you a hug. You don’t do much but nervously laugh, pulling away from her. “Yeah, I came late.” You lied.

“Ugh I wish, I’m going to get lunch, you coming with?” She says, more to her boyfriend than you. He shakes his head, “I’m good.”

“Alright, be back in a minute!”

“Can we ta-”

You cut him off immediately, nervous laughter coming back. “I have a test to study for, so I’m going to the library, sorry. We’ll catch up later. He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it himself.

After excusing yourself, you make a beeline for the library, seeking a moment of respite. The library turns out not to offer that much solace either, because you see Matt’s two brothers enter, meaning he can’t be far behind. When he rounds the corner, his eyes land on you, lighting up slightly. You see him excuse himself from his brothers, and you immediately stand and run out of there, muttering “Nope, no, no,” under your breath. The sound of you slamming the library door open definitely isn’t quiet.

You can’t help but begin to panic, packing up your things and abruptly running out of the school, through the parking lot, and jumping into your car. If studying wasn’t how you were going to escape the situation, avoiding lunch apparently was. It’s tempting, incredibly so, to skip the rest of your day, but you know you’d be in so much trouble. You can’t handle that right now.

You head back in and continue your day, just praying, wishing, dreaming that you won’t encounter the two people you don’t want to see most- but now you’re seeing them out of the corner of your eye in every passing period; and you can’t even confide in the one person you most want to.

The school day ending feels like your saving grace. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically, from running away from your friend and her boyfriend, and narrowly avoiding Matt didn’t help.

You walk out of the school, into the parking lot towards the direction of your car, ready to be done with the day.

In highschool, you’re never done.

Your friend's boyfriend is leaning against your car, looking around for you, arms crossed. You make a sharp left, in the direction of the lacrosse field and bleachers. You’re not really thinking about it when you do it, it’s just the closest shelter, other than walking back in the hellhole that is the school.

You make your way onto the bleachers mindlessly, trying not to think about the events of today. You set your backpack next to you, not realizing there’s an unexpected guest making his way up to the top of the bleachers where you sat.

“Hi.” You jump, startled by the sudden voice as he sits next to you. You recognize that voice, obviously, so you flinch before turning to him. “Y/n, right?”

You nod, not sure how to continue this. There’s a plethora of things he could say, and you’d rather not hear any of them. Matt taps his fingers on the bleachers, waiting for you to acknowledge that he’s said anything; when you realize you nod.

“Look,” he starts, and that’s never a good sign, “Your letter was really kind and whatever, but I just broke up with my girlfriend. I’m not really ready for anything serious, so if you’re looking for casual-”

“I wrote that in 7th grade.”

“Oh.” He says, scratching his head. “Why’d you send the letter then?” You look to your left, spotting your friend's boyfriend walking towards you, and you panic.

“Kiss me,”

“Okay.” He shrugs, grabbing you. His eyes are closed, but you don’t bother closing yours. You’re a bit busy glancing in the direction of your other victim, and when you watch his face fall as he turns back around, you finally close your eyes. “Not that I’m mad about it, but what just happened?”

“It’s really hard to explain, but you’re not the only one that got a letter. The other person is my best friends boyfriend,”

“Damn. That’s low of you, and I’m not special? My feelings are hurt.” He smiles a little bit, trying to ease your tense expression. “I wrote his before I ever wrote yours, and before they knew each other. I can’t talk to him, though, and if she ever finds out, it'll break her heart.”

“Okay, respect. I gotta get to practice, but I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You want to say no, but you don’t. He did just do you a big favor after all. “Yeah, see you then.”

He sticks to his words, finding you in the library the next day. His mouth twists into a grin when he sees you, and he shuffles over holding eye contact with you.

“Hey,” He says, slightly whispering. It might be lunch, but the librarian is still strict. She wants to preserve the quiet atmosphere of the room, in which you can only hear the sound of flipping pages and an occasional murmur. “Mind if I join?” He settles in next to you.

“Uhm.. listen,” You say, launching into a monologue, “about the whole letter thing, It’s, uh, not what it seems. Well it is, but it’s not. I wrote those letters a long time ago, and they don’t reflect my feelings now, and I never meant for them to get out, so, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into it, and I’m sorry you did, get dragged into it, that is.”

“If you didn’t mean for them to get out, why would you send them?” He questions, tilting his head.

“I didn’t send them.”

“Okay, uhm, who did?”

“I don’t know, but I cannot talk to my friend's boyfriend, like ever.”

He nods, a mixture of concern and confusion evident on his face, like he’s really mulling the situation over.

“So, someone sent those letters behind your back? That’s not cool, dude. Messed up, but I think we can help each other out here, take control of the situation.” A wicked grin takes over his face. If you squint hard enough you can imagine a lightbulb over his head, like he’s had an “aha!” moment. “I have an idea,”

“What do you mean, control?”

“Yeah, control. Think about it, we fake date. You need your friend’s boyfriend off your back, and I need my ex to get jealous and come back to me. Win win, and it gives us a chance to control the narrative.”

“Yeah, I mean… it could work, maybe?” You respond, uncertainty in your tone. “How would it even work?

“I don’t see how it couldn’t.”

“Okay, I guess, but I don’t see how it could be that simple.”

“Yeah, it could. Trust me, we play it smart, manipulate the situation, and we get what we want.”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

“You sure about this?” Matt asks, searching your eyes for confirmation.

“Yeah, I mean, you said it best. I can’t talk to him about this, not for a long while, anyways.”

“Sick.”

“So, uhm, what next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, rules and stuff?”

“You want rules, you make ‘em’” He shrugs. You grab out a notebook, labeling the top ‘Rules’ in neat handwriting. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“No kissing,” you start writing, and Matt groans.

“If we’re not kissing, how do you expect anyone to believe we’re dating?” You squirm a little bit.

“Matt,” you say in a hushed tone. Heat rises to your cheeks. “I don’t really kiss people,”

“Wait,” he chuckles, trying to make a joke, “was I your first kiss?”

When you don’t answer, he gasps. It almost makes him feel bad, but not enough to apologize. “No kissing then,” he confirms, trying to steer the conversation forward. “What else?”

“No couple-y social media shit,”

“Agreed. We keep it low-key.” He nods. “What about spending time together? How often do we go on dates, and are we hanging out all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe like, once a week? And I don’t wanna be around your friends all the time.”

“You don’t want to be around yours either,” he points out.

“Fair point. Once a week, I hang out with you?”

“Most days, yeah.”

“Also, no meeting the parents. That makes it too real.” You add.

“Off the table. Oh, I’m not calling you babe or any of that gross shit.” He says. You pale at the thought, literally gagging. “Please don’t, I think I’d throw up.”

“That it?” He laughs at you.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

The bell rings. “I’ll walk you to class,”

Your face morphs into confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“To make it seem like we’re really dating..?”

“Oh. Yeah,”

He walks you to class, hugging you when he drops you off. “Meet by the bleachers after school?”

“Yeah,” You say, slightly dazed by his request.

When you walk out of your classroom, you let your mind wander back to his ask, ‘what could he possibly want’ playing through your head. You walk through the front doors, taking a sharp left towards the bleachers; just like yesterday.

You’re not waiting for very long when Matt sneaks up on you, whispering “Boo.” into your ear.

You jump, caught off guard, but that’s besides the point.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

“What are you doing?”

“People are looking.” He shrugs a little. You’re eager for him to get to the point; the longer you’re away from your bed, the more cozy and inviting it sounds. He clears his throat. “I need your number,”

He’s careful to make it come out as a whisper so surrounding students don’t hear. To them, you’re already a couple.

“And your address, so I can pick you up tomorrow.”

“What?”

“As your boyfriend, I’ll be driving you to school, and home, and I need to pick you up for our date too.”

“Date tomorrow?”

“If you’re free, for the ‘spending time together’ bit,” he says, pulling his hands from your waist and doing air quotes with his fingers.

“I can drive myself,” You tell him, as he grabs his phone out and hands it to you sneakily. You proceed to put your number in, and your address, before handing it back to you.

“You can, but it’s more convincing if we come together.” He murmurs, absorbed in drafting you a message. After a moment, you hear the familiar ping of a notification.

“There,” he grins proudly, showing you the message. “Now it’s official.”

The morning sun casts a warm glow on you, making you feel cozy and relaxed, despite the nerves growing. The idea of Matt, and his brothers, coming to pick you up scares you a bit. You fiddle with the strap of your backpack as you wait on your front porch.

When you see a car pull up, you know that’s your cue to start walking down your driveway. Matt hops out, rushing to hug you and open the passenger door for you.

“Doesn’t Chris usually sit there?” You ask quietly, still smiling to keep up the charade. “Yeah, I made him move.” He whispers back before he walks to the driver's seat.

“Good morning,” Nick says, sounding completely done. Chris doesn’t even raise his head, giving you a small wave. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys.” You say softly, not wanting to disturb them. You think them going out of their way to pick you up this morning was disturbing enough.

The car ride was a mixture of awkward silence and small talk. Nick and Chris are both too tired to engage much, but Matt is trying his hardest to keep them involved.

You pull up to the school gates after a short while, Matt parks the car. You get out and he walks over to you, joining your hands while you walk in. He gives you a reassuring smile as you walk in, “Don’t worry, they’re not always like this in the morning. I promise it’s not personal.”

You nod, trying your best to offer a smile that comes out faint. “Yeah, I won’t take it personally. Thanks again for the ride, Matt.”

“Of course,”

The second you get into the school, Nick and Chris part ways with you two. You’re still holding hands, you realize, when the murmurs and glances direct themselves towards you. Matt can feel the anxious energy you radiate because of it, so he leans in to whisper in your ear, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon.”

For all the stories you’d heard about him, you hadn’t expected him to be even half as polite. Maybe it’s because you were faking, you decide.

The rest of the day seems to float by in a blur, but Matt was right; the buzz around your relationship did seem to dissipate the more people saw you together. During lunch, you find yourself next to Matt. You’re doing your best to maintain the facade with his lacrosse friends, Chris among the group.

You can feel the stare of your best friend and her boyfriend though, and it only brings back those feelings of guilt and anxiety. You’re grateful for the distraction of food, though, because it provides you an out from conversations.

You’re not used to basking in the light like this.

As the bell rings, you feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. Matt walks you to your last class, of course, offering you a quick hug before parting ways.

The class passed by slowly as you try to piece together the events of the day. In under a week, you went from a nobody with 3 friends to a somebody dating one of the most popular boys. Fake dating.

When you’re finally dismissed from the shackles of public school, you feel an odd sense of relief. You know it won’t last very long because of your scheduled date tonight, but it’s there nonetheless.

You find Matt waiting outside your classroom, as promised, a smile on his face. He falls into step beside you as you make your way towards his car. The chatter of surrounding students fades into background noise when you’re with him. A cool breeze dances through the air, making you shiver a bit. For a moment, you stayed silent, enjoying the comfort he brought you just by being next to you.

It was reminiscent of middle school; his silence made you comfortable because you weren’t alone.

“Wait, don’t you have lacrosse practice?” You interrupt.

“I take Nick home everyday, I have time to take you too.”

You nod. As you navigate through the sea of juniors and seniors preparing to leave, Matt turns his head towards you. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, concern evident.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, offering a chuckle and a hesitant smile, “Just processing the day, you know? It’s kinda weird.”

He nods understandingly, turning his head back towards the car that Nick is already waiting at. The ride to your home feels significantly shorter when you engage in pleasant conversation with Nick and Matt.

Despite the guilt you feel over keeping up this act, the conversation flows genuinely and you find yourself really enjoying it. He pulls into your driveway, putting the car in park and smiling at you.

“Thank you, and thanks for today.”

“No problem, I’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet,” You say, waving goodbye to Nick. You walk into your house and feel like a puddle of goo, every emotion flooding your body in one go. It’s only the second day of pretending, and you’re feeling like a fly stuck in a web of lies.

Despite your conflicting feelings, you begin to get ready for your date, feeling genuine excitement. Even if it’s just as friends, Matt is really pleasant to be around.

Matt: Movie at 7:30?

You: Perfect, see you then.

The hours tick by as you prepare yourself to hang out with him. You hear a knock on your front door that makes you jump. “Dad, I'm going out!” You yell, rushing out to join Matt.

You weren’t expecting him to hug you when you stepped out. There was no one around to keep it up for, but you decided not to question it. “Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He grins, pulling away from you. “I didn’t buy tickets yet because I wanted you to choose the movie,”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You tell him, heart filled with gratitude. It was a small gesture, yet it immediately made your middle school crush on him come back.

“I feel like you know a lot about me, so I thought you choosing the movie would help me learn something about you.” He said as you pulled into the movie theater parking lot.

“Yeah, I’ll pick.” You giggle at him, hopping out. When you walk in, you’re overwhelmed by the aggressive scent of buttered popcorn. Matt glanced around, beginning to guide you to the ticket counter. “Shit, that’s my ex.”

“It’s cool, play up the pda to make her more jealous,”

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans into you, pretending to whisper something in your ear. When you walk up to the counter, he unwraps his arm for a mere second to grab his wallet.

“Movie?” He asks. You tell him and he nods. “Two tickets please, he hands his ex his card.

“Hi, Matt.” She says, smiling at him. You immediately get possessive vibes that make you feel uncomfortable, but that means the plan is working. “Oh hey,” He smiles lightly, acting nonchalant.

“Who’s this?” You can literally feel the jealousy she's emitting, and it makes you shift in his grasp. “This is my girlfriend, the tickets?”

“Oh, sorry.” She hands him the tickets, making sure to brush his hand while she glared at you. As you walk towards the next counter to buy popcorn, you start laughing. “I don’t think she liked me much.”

“Good, means the plan is working.” He says, going to fish for his wallet again.

“Nuh-uh. My turn.”

“That’s not really how dates work, but nice try.”

It feels like the hours have crept away from you. The movie comes to an end, despite you willing it to last longer. Matt offers you a hand and pulls you up, making sure to hold your hand when you exit the theater. It almost makes your heart flutter; then you remember why he’s doing it.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” He says, offering you his jacket when you step into the brisk air. You smile, feeling fulfillment while you slide his jacket on. “I liked it, thanks for letting me choose. And, um, thanks for tonight. It was… interesting.”

“No problem,” he says, sounding relaxed. “I liked it too. We make a good fake couple, don’t we?”

You continue chatting while you walk to the car, and while he drops you off. Matt gets out to walk you up to your door, genuinely surprising you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He says, offering you another hug. You slide off his jacket and melt into him before handing it back. “Thanks, Matt.”

“See you tomorrow morning?”

You nod.

You close the door behind you, feeling the weight of the day settle into your skin. You’re beginning to ease into the fake relationship; even as the facade gets increasingly complex. You sink into your bed, shifting off to dreamland.

As the week goes on, your arrangement only gets better. You avoid your friend's boyfriend, and he starts getting desperate texts from his ex. By the end of the week, you’re sure he’s close to breaking it off.

When Matt drops you off at home on Friday afternoon, you’re insanely smiley. You feel on top of the world. The day seemed normal enough, for your new normal anyways, but there was an odd air of tension everywhere you went. You knew something was wrong when your best friend landed on your doorstep mere moments later.

She was your best friend for a reason- you trusted her with almost everything, so she didn’t understand why this week, you’d suddenly gone ghost. You normally talked every second of every hour if you could, but this week, your communication had been limited to fleeting glances across the cafeteria, or in the hallway.

You open your front door to find her standing there, eyes ablaze with anger. “Hey.. what’s up?” You say, prompting her to talk and cut through the thick silence.

“Where have you been all week?”

“At school..?”

“No, I mean, where have you been? You avoided me on Monday, and you started dating Matthew Sturniolo out of nowhere; I didn’t even know you were talking! I’ve barely seen you this week and normally we spend all our time together. Something isn’t right.”

You feel like you’re shrinking under her intense gaze. Stammering out an apology isn’t really working for her, or you, because the weight of your fabricated relationship with Matt pinned your tongue. “It’s not like that..”

“Don’t give me that!” She says, glaring at you. “We tell each other everything. Why are you shutting me out now?”

You wrack your brain for an excuse, trying to think of anything to get her off your back when you remember a conversation you’d had with her about Matt. “Look, I know I’ve been unfair to you… but I know you don’t like Matt, and I really do. I’ve been caught up with him, and I didn’t want to tangle you into it because I know you don’t like him.”

“He’s a dick.” She says to you, bluntly. “I don’t think you should be dating him, much less talking to him and ignoring me for him. Haven’t you heard the shit he’s pulled with other girls?”

“Of course I have but-”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not different. He’s going to leave you in the dust too.”

Her words cut through you, sharp and painful. The truth hovered on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of secrecy still held it down. You didn’t know how to get out of this one. “He’s not like that with me,” you attempt to defend, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “People change, you know?”

“You’re being naïve, and I hate seeing you like this. Ignoring your best friend for a guy who’s going to hurt you in the end.”

You’re feeling shackled, like you’re in the ocean trying to stay above the surface, but there’s a weight tied to your ankle.

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, voice shaking “but I know what I’m doing. We’re happy together. You say, a feigned smile gracing your lips. Her harsh glare softens. “I trust you. Just, be careful. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, acting like you’re relieved, but the pit in your stomach only deepens as the web of woven lies becomes more intricate. She leaves, and you close the door behind you, sinking down to the floor.

All of this because of some letters.

The sound of a message coming through your phone snaps you out of your contemplation. You glance at it, immediately smiling when you see Matt’s name pop up.

Matt: Hangout tomorrow? Nick and Chris r asking

You: Yeah, what time?

Matt: Noon?

You: I’ll be there

Matt: I’ll pick you up

You heart the message, standing from the floor. When you retire for the night, your friend's warning re-enters your mind. You know she’s right, but the reality of your fake dating thing with Matt tugs you back into its tangled web, as it always does.

Each text from Matt, while making you smile, feels like another string of deceit weaving into a thousand more. It just deepens as time goes on. The lure of his attention and the comfort of the familiarity you feel with him vie against the guilt that gnaws at your conscience.

You’ve realized the gravity of the situation, but the truth remains locked in, barricaded by fear and the entanglements you’ve created. You want to call it off, you’ve wanted to, but you don’t want to risk falling into a chasm of more confrontations- from both your friend, and her boyfriend.

You try to shove it out of your mind so you can sleep though, preparing for your day with Matt tomorrow.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel giddy. You put more effort into getting ready than you normally would on a Saturday. Then, there’s a knock on your door and a hug awaiting you. This time, you don’t question if people are around, you just accept it with a grin.

“Nick and Chris wanted to come get you,” He tells you, pulling you down the driveway. Yet again, the front seat is empty for you. The energy of the triplets was infectious, in the best way possible. You immediately found yourself comforted by their presence, the simplicity of just being around them had an inexplicable effect on your already good mood.

The drive feels effortless as you settle into conversation with the group. It reminds you of how uncomfortable you’d been mere days ago, and how much had changed. You kind of frown at the thought, but quickly catch it. Matt’s smile never faltered though, leaving you with an odd sense of melancholy when you’re reminded that it’s all fake.

You can’t help but be surprised by your surroundings when you enter the house. You knew the outside, obviously having known the address, but the inside exceeds all your expectations. Family pictures litter the walls, candles are everywhere. It’s cute.

“Your parents aren’t here, right?” You whisper. “Nope.”

“So, what should we do?” Chris speaks up, cutting through the silence. You shrug in response while Matt and Nick go into deep thought.

“We should bake!”

“Nope.” Matt says at the same time you say “Okay.”

When Matt hears you, he turns in your direction. Seeing your smile at the presented idea, he changes his mind. “Yeah, baking sounds good.”

Nick glances at him skeptically, the switch-up being unusual. When your eyes wander towards Chris, you notice his confusion too.

“Baking it is.” Nick mumbles, leading you to the kitchen.

“Alright, what are we making?” Chris pipes in, pulling out various bowls. “Brownies?” Matt suggests, “I think we have a mix and I don’t wanna run to the store right now.”

“Wait, we’re awful at baking. Why are we baking?” Chris questions, wracking his brain to find the answer.

“It’ll be eventful,” Nick replies.

“If we mess shit up and it gets messy, I’m blaming it on you.”

Nick groans, going to grab the mix and the various ingredients listed on the box. “If you do that, I’m gonna tell mom about that time that you-”

“And that’s enough!” Matt cuts him off, grabbing eggs out of Nick’s hand. He ushers you further into the action of the kitchen, imploring you to get comfortable.

“You bake a lot?” He asks, smiling.

“Not really,” You admit, laughing at the commotion surrounding you. It’s fascinating to you how those around you have become such an integral part of your everyday life in the week you’d known them, despite only being in your circle for under a week.

You know your relationship with Matt is false- how could you not? You remind yourself constantly, but these new relationships you’d forged because of Matt? Some of the realest ones you’d ever experienced.

A crack snaps you out of your thoughts, followed by a millisecond of silence. “Chris!” Nick yells, looking at the fallen egg.

“How is this my fault?!” Matt finds himself laughing with you.

The brownies turn out so horribly burnt you’re not even sure if you can call them brownies anymore, and the mess is colossal, but even when Matt drops you off you only have good things to say about, and to, the group.

“Thank you,”

“Of course. I’ll pick you up on Monday?”

“See you then.” You say, waving to Nick and Chris.

The next couple weeks go by so smoothly, you almost forget you’re acting. They’re relatively the same as the first, save for more interactions with your friend. Being with Matt and his brothers, and even his friends, feels natural. Your weeks become more routine, and the plan is working. Matt’s ex is obviously getting more green as time goes on, and your friend's boyfriend won’t even spare you a passing glance.

By your one-month ‘anniversary’, you’re almost 100% sure you two are in the clear. You’re waiting at home for Matt to pick you up, excited to be with him, but feeling a pit on your stomach nonetheless. When you hear the now-familiar knock on your door, you can’t help but run to answer it.

“Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He smiles and reaches out to hug you, like normal, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes in the way it usually does. It’s missing its charm. He guides you to the car, sure to open the passenger door for you, but the gesture is missing its usual warmth. He takes you to this cute diner, one that you’ve mentioned in a passing conversation, but the earlier apprehension you felt only grows stronger.

When you sit down, you finally decide you can’t take it anymore. “Is something wrong, Matt?”

“Not wrong, really. My ex wants me back. She texted me the other night,”

“Oh,” Is all you can say, trying to force a smile to your face. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” He says. You’re not sure if you’re grasping at straws, but you feel like he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself too. “Do you think you’re okay to break this off?”

“Uhm, yeah. I think my friend’s boyfriend is leaving me alone.” You nod at him, looking everywhere but his face. “Should we just go?”

He can’t argue with that, so instead of getting that cute little dinner date you were promised, you’re sitting back in Matt’s car in silence as he drives you home. The atmosphere felt heavy. You’re stopped at a red light when you finally glance over at him for the first time this entire ride back. He’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic you’d never noticed before, while his eyes are set on the traffic lights.

“I’m sorry,” He finally says, the second the light turns green.

“For what?” You reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“For coming up with this idea. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t be sorry, Matt. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. It wasn’t stupid; it did what we wanted it to do.”

He nodded, but your gaze lingered on him. You could see the mixture of guilt and gratitude swirling through his eyes. “At least it’s over, right? We manipulated the situation.” You say, trying to bring up the mood. You’re trying not to make something of nothing, but his mood seems just as melancholic as yours. “At least it’s over.”

When the car reaches your house, Matt can’t find it in himself to move, to walk you to your door. He hears your seatbelt click, signaling that you’re taking your leave.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Matt.”

When you exit the car, a bittersweet realization washes over Matt. This isn’t what he wanted. He grips the steering wheel, hurriedly putting his car into reverse. He can’t linger any longer, or he’ll make a rash decision and run back to you. He wanted his ex back, and now that’s what he’s getting.

The next day, you wake up with absolutely zero pep in your step. You drag yourself out of bed, drag yourself into your car, and drag yourself through the halls in the morning. The entire world seems more quiet without Matt next to you; your steps echo in your ears. You catch glimpses of familiar faces, but today, they seem almost alien. It makes you wish you’d never left your bed. By lunch, everybody knows something is wrong. Your spot by Matt’s side has been reclaimed by his ex girlfriend. You don’t miss the pitying looks his friends give you, especially Nick and Chris.

You never realized how humiliating it’d be when people saw that Matt left you for his ex.

You settle in your old spot, across from your best friend and her boyfriend, trying to make the whole thing feel natural. It doesn’t.

The whispers and glances you’re receiving from others feel like needles pricking at your already unsettled emotions, and your friend’s compassionate eyes don’t make you feel any more comfortable.

“Matt’s a jerk. I hate him.” She tells you, and it hurts your heart a bit.

“I don’t.” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the situation pressing on you. She winces at you defending him, but rebounds. There’s a strong desire to call him every name in the book, but resorts to saying “I can't believe he would do that to you.”

You want to tell her the truth, the lies of the situation having weighed heavy on your mind, but you know that’d defeat the purpose. You thought that when you’d ended the relationship, the entanglement of fibs you’d found yourself in would unravel, but you feel as though they’d only gotten more complicated. “You told me he would.” You say, pushing your school lunch around. She winces again.

“I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

When Matt stands next to his ex, who all his friends tell him is a catch, he can’t help but feel empty. His eyes wander away from his table, landing on you. Memories flood back, a mixture of genuine and orchestrated moments swirling within his mind. He’s completely dipped out of the conversation his friends are having, his grip on his new-old girlfriend's waist weakening as he thinks of you.

He catches the slightest glimpse of your eyes, one that you immediately divert; a mixture of confusion and hurt sprinkled within. A pant of guilt hits him, but he tries to forget about it as he turns back to the conversation presented to him.

“What’s gotten into you dude?” Someone asks. Matt shrugs, trying to stay involved. His eyes wander back to you, and then over to Chris, who mouths “Get her back.” at him.

He tries to pretend like he didn’t see that. He has what he wants, his girlfriend, and you have what you want, maybe.

He knows one thing: he doesn’t like the hole your absence has left in his daily routine.

The week comes and goes, Friday night rolling around and the pain of losing each other doesn’t go away. Matt’s battling himself internally to convince himself that both you and him are happier apart; he knows that’s not true. You’re fighting with yourself constantly to not spill your guts to someone, pressure that you had shared with him before the fake, but impossibly real split, weighing on you. It’s past midnight by the time your wandering mind calms enough for you to sleep.

At this point, Matt’s drafted up about 4 text messages to you, and none of them convey what he’s truly wanted to say. He called it off already with his ex-ex girlfriend. The moment she’d started badmouthing you in front his friends put a sour taste in his mouth; that, and he’d realized he was searching for you in every one of their interactions.

He’s restless, consumed by thoughts of longing for your presence. In the silence of the night, he’s grabbing his keys and heading. You think you’re imagining it when you’re awoken by the stall of an engine, but you’re forced to confront the taps on your window.

As you slowly approach the window, pulling back the curtain, you're confronted by Matt’s anxious gaze, illuminated by the faint, cool glow of the moonlight. You rush downstairs, barely stopping to slide a hoodie and some shoes on. The mix of emotions you feel are mirrored in his expression- a blend of nervousness, vulnerability, and longing. With the weight of unspoken words hanging between you, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm hug. He’s worried you won’t hear him out, desperate to express what he wanted to tell you in his unsent messages, but his desire to hold you far outweighs his uneasiness.

“I couldn’t keep lying to myself, and you.” He says, face buried in your neck. “I’ve been lost without you, and I can’t pretend I’m happier this way. I miss us, even if it wasn’t real.” His voice contains traces of sincerity, regret, and insecurity, but he feels a sense of strong relief take over at his admission. “I know it was fake- it started out fake- but I’m in love with you now.”

His honesty resonates as his eyebrows unfurrow, his entire body relaxing, and the weight that’s been dragging you to the bottom of the ocean is shed. Rather than sinking, you’re floating peacefully above the soft waves. You pull away from him, your anxieties dissipating like mist under the moonlight. The depth of his words stir an array of emotions within you: astonishment, relief, and a spark of hope. You search his calm eyes, being practically slapped in the face by his sincere and loving expression.

You can’t help but kiss him, seeing the way the moon puts an ethereal glow on his gestures. “I missed us too,” You start, in a soft voice. The air between you is finally cleared. “and I love you too.”

“Can we date, for real this time?” Matt blurts out, going to kiss you again. He feels intoxicated, your second-ever kiss not being a fraction of enough to sate his ever-growing hunger.

You might have started as a fraud, but somewhere along the way, when the tides shifted and your world changed, you emerged from your cocoon, into a glorious and charismatic butterfly.

“If you’ll have me as your girlfriend, for real this time.”

He kisses you again.

#matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

Only Now

♥ ♥ Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie needs Hawkins, needs his old friends, needs you to ground him every couple of months. And so he visits for a few days in the middle of December and lets all of you pretend you're momentarily back in '88, and it's beautiful, but it hurts. A lot.

Author’s note: Christmas came early @joejoequinnquinn! Surprise! This one's just for you as part of @quinnyfairy's Secret Santa Project; my very first (and maybe last, idk) Eddie fic ever. Hope you enjoy!!

CW / disclaimer: 18+, angsty, swearing (lots), drinking, little smutty sort of, reader celebrates Christmas (some form of it anyway) and also my very first time writing for Eddie so please bear with!

Wordcount: 9.5K

(find all other parts of this story here) God, how you wished you could slow down time. You wanted longer minutes, longer hours. Slower ticking clocks. Maybe even freeze time all together, just so you could relish his company for longer. It felt like the minutes were slipping by in record time and sleeping through them only sped them up even more. So, you laid awake instead, and mentally willed the stretch between each tick of your clock to lengthen as you stared at Eddie next to you.

You were trying to stay quiet. Not let Eddie hear you cry, because you knew if he did, he’d shake his sleep off of him and wouldn’t be able to get back to it. It was only quarter past two, which was far too many hours ‘til morning still, and Eddie needed his sleep. This was likely the last night he'd sleep in an actual bed; for the next few weeks it'd be bunkbeds on buses and couches in dressing rooms.

He looked so soft with his hair braided up and out of his face, still wet from when he’d let you wash it hours earlier. How could you not cry at the sheer sight of him? He’d never let anyone else see him like this, you knew it to be true, and those soft noises he made? The grunts, mumbles and groans his sleep let escape him? Just for you, you were convinced.

You felt a fresh tear roll over the bridge of your nose, and there was no point in wiping it away. You knew it would find your pillow or your covers to disappear into. This was exactly what Steve had warned you about, countless times. He’d said he wouldn’t allow you to slip back and do this all over again, not after the last time, but when Eddie arrived three days ago, you’d seen Steve struggle with the same inner battle. He’d missed Eddie just as much and just as easily would let himself transport back to ’87, ’88.

“He’s here!” Steve had gotten up from the picnic table you’d both been sat on outside of your apartment building as you’d waited for Eddie. Butts perched up on the tabletop, feet on the wooden bench below you, up and away from the cold ground below it, you’d been chatting, and Steve had tried to talk some sense into you before Eddie’s taxi had pulled up.

“I know you think he needs it, but ultimately, you know you shouldn’t let him,” Steve had said, placing blame with you. You shouldn’t let him. Not, Eddie shouldn’t do this.

“I know,” you agreed, but you were the one thinking all your thoughts, feeling all your feelings. Not Steve. You knew very well that you shouldn’t let Eddie come into your world and pretend you were still twenty and fresh-faced for a few days before he’d fuck off and leave you again. But what was the alternative? Have none of Eddie at all? That option seemed much worse.

“I know you know, but it’d be great if you made smart choices. Smarter choices.” Steve referenced the last time Eddie had been in town. He had visited Hawkins for six days last May, and for weeks afterwards, Steve had been busy picking up the pieces of you that you didn’t seem to be able to hold onto yourself. He had to put real effort in to put you back together, slowly but surely, until you felt like a human being again.

Steve was a good friend. It was because Steve also missed Eddie a lot, so he understood on another level, but it also meant he let his mind get cloudy when Eddie was around. Neither of you were part of Eddie’s life anymore, not like you were before he’d left, and neither of you liked that. The three of you had almost joined at the hip, and whenever Steve would hang out with Robin, you and Eddie would play house. Eddie was your not-boyfriend, and you were his not-girlfriend. For all intends and purposes, you were absolutely dating each other. But if someone asked if Eddie was your boyfriend, or if you were his girlfriend, you’d always say no. No. You were just friends. Except you weren’t. But you were.

Now, you were pieces of the puzzle of Hawkins to him, the place he would come back to every couple of months when he’d find the time in between tours. Eddie needed the place to ground himself, to feel like the person he felt he still was on the inside. He would keep that Eddie in his own pocket, but he would always lose that version of himself on stage after doing a few shows. He wouldn’t realise he’d gone missing until he’d smash another TV in a hotel room with strangers who pretended to be his friends, and girls who were only there because he was the Eddie Munson, front man to famous metal band Corroded Coffin. That’s when he’d call Wayne and he would tell him to let everyone know he’d be coming down soon. Make sure Hawkins was ready for him. Lay the red carpets out. And Wayne would chuckle, and then he’d just tell the two of you.

"Munson!" Steve called out as he walked towards the taxi that Eddie had just opened the door of, his arms already opening.

"Harrington!" Eddie called back in the same tone once he stepped out and saw Steve.

Eddie looked absolutely horrible. Like he hadn't stopped continuously drinking and hadn't slept for days. But he smiled, and when Steve jumped him, he hugged him back with strong arms and patting hands.

"Jesus, you smell like the floor of a dive bar," Steve said, and it made Eddie throw his head back with laughter.

They broke into a playful scuffle, half wrestling, half still hugging, poking fingers at each other like teenage boys who didn't know how else to express affection. Their grunting and laughing reached your ears and made you smile. You stayed put, sat on your hands on the picnic table still, not wanting to intrude on their moment together, until Eddie caught your eye over Steve's shoulder.

"You," Eddie pointed, and you saw the glint in his eyes change. Eddie looked at you different, and it made the words Steve had tried so hard to imprint onto you immediately disappear. Eddie was here. And he was looking at you.

"Get your ass over here," Eddie beckoned with wild arms as he started walking towards you himself, leaving Steve to take Eddie's duffle bag from the taxi driver.

You pushed yourself from the bench, and took small steps, but stopped when Eddie started running and looked at you the same way he had looked at Steve when he'd started wrestling him. Full puppy dog energy. You let him crash into you, lift you from your feet and swing you around, legs flailing and voice squealing. Steve was right. Eddie smelled like he'd washed his hair with beer a couple days ago and hadn't touched it since.

"Missed you," Eddie spoke into your hair before planting a kiss there and putting you down. Missed you more, you thought, but couldn't say it. You took a minute to look at him, still in his grip. Eddie looked older, like he had aged twice as fast as you had. There were more lines on his face and his eyes sat a little deeper. His hair lacked shine and his scruff eyed unruly. You wondered how long ago it was since Eddie had eaten a vegetable.

"How long are you staying for?" you asked before saying anything else. Please stay for Christmas, you thought. Please.

"Just a few days," Eddie said, and it pained you that he said it like it was good news. Like he couldn't actually wait to get out of here again. Like that didn't absolutely wreck you.

"Let's head inside, it's fucking freezing," Steve walked past you and broke your moment with Eddie, slinging a protective arm around your shoulder, ensuring that you fell into step together as you made your way inside. You feared you'd shown too much in your face. Things that Steve had definitely spotted, but somehow, Eddie hadn't.

You headed up to Steve's apartment together, Steve decided. In the elevator, Steve pressed the button for his floor, not yours, and the second of quick eye contact between the two of you said enough. Once inside, Eddie immediately asked if it was okay for him to take a quick shower. You know, because he'd been traveling so long, Eddie said. Not because the stench of alcohol really had almost become too overwhelming in the small space of the elevator, and Eddie realised just then how clean and healthy you and Steve looked compared to him, all flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and plump skin.

When Eddie locked the door behind him, you caught your reflection in Steve's hallway mirror and immediately regained your composure; you stood up straight, pulled your shoulders back and relaxed your brow. Eddie was here. You were going to have fun together. Even if it was just for a few days. Maybe even more so because of it, because now it was extra important to make every second count.

"You okay?" Steve saw. You smiled and said you were. Eddie was here now. You did a good job pushing all sadness aside and told it to not pop back up until later. Sometime after Christmas maybe. You could deal with it then. Steve accepted your smile, happy to see you still had it ready for him, but he worried about you anyway.

"Where is he?"

It was much later, and Robin used her spare key to let herself into Steve's apartment, not bothering to announce her arrival by ringing the doorbell, not willing to wait for someone else to let her in. You saw Eddie smile, mouth full of pizza still, as he immediately got up from where he was sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Robin walked in, hidden inside a heavy coat, under a wool beanie and wrapped up in a thick scarf. Whatever pieces of hair you could see were wet from the snow that had started coming down late afternoon and hadn't stopped since.

"Oh my God, it's famous rockstar Eddie Munson!" Robin shrieked and bounced as Eddie leant in to hug her tight. He lifted her up, just like he'd done with you, except Robin didn't get any spins or whispers placed into her hair. "Steve!" she called over Eddie's shoulder. "You've got someone famous in your home!"

"All right," Eddie laughed bashfully, "It's just the town's freak today, I’m afraid."

"Yea, a freak who apparently is now friends with Alanis Morissette?! What the fuck, Eddie?" Robin punched Eddie in the arm.

"I've met her once," Eddie argued as he sat back down, looking at you and rolling his eyes. It was aimed at Robin, but he made sure she couldn't see, and you giggled together.

You spent the evening chatting, eating, and drinking. Drinks that Eddie turned down with a swift, "Nah, I'm good, thanks," and you wondered if he didn't touch a single drop just because Steve had made that comment about his scent earlier.

Robin was her chaotic cheerful self and couldn't stop asking Eddie questions. It meant you got to sit back and listen, bask in the company of your friends. As the hours passed, you turned more into the people you once were, and you couldn't help but love every second of it. Steve started using pet names he hadn't used in ages. Robin made sarcastic jokes at the expense of others so skillfully, no one minded them at all. Eddie grew more theatrical in the way you knew him to be, silly, loud, enthusiastic, and stupid, just the way you liked him most. The second you'd stop giggling, someone would do or say something that would get you reared right back up again, and you'd all join in, smug faces with dumb smiles. You weren't sure if you also became more of the girl you once were, or what that even looked like, but you were having fun, and that was all that mattered.

"Where are you staying?" Robin asked Eddie, like she didn't already know. Maybe she didn't, you thought for a second, because why else would she even bring it up? Maybe it was just polite conversation as she started getting ready to go home and brace the cold once more.

"I think–" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut for a second, before cocking his head your way. "–there's a very comfortable couch made up somewhere in this building for me," Eddie smiled. You nodded because he was right. You had fashioned your couch into a comfortable guest bed, but all four of you knew that there wasn't a chance Eddie was going to use it. There was no reason for you to have gotten the extra pillows, duvets, and sheets out, but you had done it anyway. If not to fool anyone else, then at least to fool yourself.

And fool yourself you did. But only for a minute.

"I've got extra blankets here if you need them. Another pillow too, if that one's too firm," you gestured at a closet as Eddie dropped his duffle bag onto your made-up couch. He looked around a second. You'd made the couch look very cosy, and Eddie almost pouted at the effort you'd put in. But then he looked towards the hallway, and without saying anything, let his feet follow his gaze. He just walked right out. You heard him flip the light switch in your bedroom, followed by the soft sound of a thud to your mattress, and then a heavy blissful sigh.

You knew you shouldn't. But you also knew you absolutely would.

Without putting up a fight, without even trying to pretend this wasn’t what you wanted, you got into bed with Eddie and let him pull you close. Eddie hugged you, face to face, and you hugged him back, clinging. Almost as if a hunger inside you that hadn't been stilled in months finally found its satisfaction. All your senses were being fed with all things Eddie, and you reveled in his embrace. Eddie felt strong, but somehow frail too, which was a little troubling. And he smelled like Steve's shampoo, which was a lot troubling. But he was warm, and you were held. It was so very welcoming. So needed. You hugged each other like you used to do all the time, and you nuzzled into him, your nose pressing firmly into his neck. Something in your chest slotted into place, and it felt right.

"Why are you sad?" Eddie asked after a few beats of silence. It was earnest and sober. A question he'd never ask you if you weren't alone together. In the dark, together.

You hated that he'd seen it within you. But how could he not have?

"I'm not," you whispered, and Eddie didn't believe you, but pulled you closer in response. "Go to sleep, you look like you need it," you didn't want to talk anymore. One of Eddie's hands searched to find one of yours to grab onto. To squeeze. And he would've kissed you if he hadn't been so tired.

"Is it the memories?" Eddie asked the darkness that surrounded you, revealing he still knew you better than you knew yourself. Memories had their way of rearing up and sinking their teeth into your present, and you hadn't yet figured out how to not let them hurt you.

Just to put the matter to rest, and because you didn't want to lie to Eddie, you agreed. "It's the memories."

Eddie moved a little before you felt and heard a kiss close to your ear. "I'm here." And he was.

The next morning you woke up being the small spoon to Eddie's big spoon. Eddie had himself wrapped all around you, a leg slung over you up so high, its thigh covered your hip. His nose pressed into your neck where his lips were fluttering soft kisses that tickled you awake slowly. It was the best wake up call you'd gotten in a while, and you pretended you were still asleep, just so the moment would last you longer.

You wanted to take whatever you could get, knowing you would only be able to have it for a short amount of time. It would absolutely ruin you the next time you'd wake up in your bed alone, but you were too greedy for it now not to bask in it. Swim in it forever. Let it bubble around you, like in a hot tub.

Eddie let a hand roam underneath your shirt. They were slow, soft fingers, cool against your skin, but the stroke of them gratifying. Instead of going for a squeeze - which you were totally expecting, you knew Eddie - he pressed his flat palm right in the middle of your chest, catching cleavage, but mostly monitoring your heart rate.

He curled around you more, tightened his arms and pulled you in closer, using the hand over your heart to push you into him. You let him do whatever he wanted, and tried to control your breathing as best you could. He then found a spot on your neck to lick, and just like Eddie predicted, it made your heart beat faster instantly. He knew you were awake.

"Good morning," Eddie's voice vibrated impossibly low and sensual, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Eddie tilted his hips and your breathe caught and shattered. You could feel him press up against you, impossibly hard for you, and it made you want to push back into him more. You didn't move, though, and instead kept your eyes closed and your hands in place. You knew what would happen if you did push back into him; if you did let your hands wander where they were itching to go.

You took a deep breath to shake it off and you felt Eddie do the same. With his face nuzzled into your neck still, Eddie was inhaling you, and you felt him rock his hips into you once more.

You couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Because Steve was in your mind still, with important words of advice you promised you'd guard yourself with when it would eventually come down to this.

Eddie sensed your apprehension and stopped, halting everything he was doing. His hand immediately slipped from your top and his leg moved down yours a little which freed you from the death grip he'd had on you. His common sense returned too abruptly for your liking, though, and you whined at your sudden loss of him. Eddie immediately regretted the severe, quick change in his demeanor. To make it up to you, he lifted himself over you far enough to press a warm, sweet kiss onto your cheek.

"Did you sleep OK?" Eddie sounded much more awake this time.

It was a good thing Eddie got up and out of bed. Every minute you spent in Eddie's arms like that, only made you want it more. He didn't necessarily need to climb out on your side of the bed, though, but the way he had rolled over you, pushing you down into the mattress as roughly as he could whilst muttering, "oh, sorry, just sneaking past, excuse me, sorry," injected humor into your morning together.

It was only a few hours later that you were absolutely freezing your tits off, watching Eddie and Dustin who were quite literally frollicking in the park. It didn't matter how old they were, or how old they'd ever be; these boys would lay their eyes upon each other, and energy would just shoot into their legs. They were running, shouting at each other and laughing loudly. After five minutes of flinging powdery snow and trying to make one another topple over to get a full face of it, you saw the beginnings of little snowballs that they then started rolling into bigger ones.

It was so cold. You had your gloved hands tucked deeply into the pockets of your coat, your chin dipped into your scarf and your face displayed a permanent grimace as it dealt with the biting breeze it couldn't escape.

"Are they... are they seriously going to build a snowman?"

Mike stood next to you, same grimace displayed on his face, shivering even more than you were. He was still just as lanky as he'd been in high school. Tall, thin, unproportionally long limbs and barely any bodyfat at all. Mike wasn't built to keep himself even slightly warm in cold winters like this one. He was too cool for school, too. Too cool to join Dustin and Eddie in their play, so he watched them from the sidelines, just like you did.

"Do you want to go get a coffee?" you asked Mike, turning your full body instead of just your face to look at him, desperate for some warmth and for some caffeine.

"Guys!" Mike called over. "Wanna go grab a coffee?"

You smiled a small smile to yourself. You would've absolutely left Eddie and Dustin for a moment to get a coffee alone with Mike, but Mike clearly didn't think walking off with only you was even an option. It was all right. You and Mike weren't friends. You understood if Mike thought it'd be awkward.

Neither Eddie nor Dustin reacted to Mike's question. They were too busy making sure their ball of snow didn't collapse in on itself. You saw some of Eddie's wet hair strands stick to his face, mouth open as he breathed heavily, letting Dustin tell him how to use his hands in swiping motions to get the shape right. Both of their jeans had big wet patches at the knees and you wondered how cold and uncomfortable they were going to be for the rest of the day. Mike let a weird, sort of judgmental laugh escape his throat before he shook his head. You grinned at Mike. Where Dustin was so openly a fan of Eddie, Mike quietly tried to hide his - to you - obvious admiration for Eddie. You guessed Mike was secretly way more impressed with him than he let on, and desperately wanted to impress Eddie himself too. Dustin was the guy who would unashamedly pin a poster of Eddie up onto his wall, happily displaying that he was friends with Eddie Munson and was so very proud of him. Mike was the guy who thought that putting up posters was definitely not cool, but instead would try to casually name drop Eddie any time he could.

"Well," Mike said. "At least they're having fun," and it didn't sound like a comment Mike would make, but more like he thought it was a good thing to say in the moment. To fill the silence he didn't know how else to fill. And in a desperate attempt to keep conversation with you going, Mike's mind came up with a question he asked before his brain had even thought of what your reaction to it could be.

"What's it like having your boyfriend back?" Mike asked, and you felt your chest tighten, but were incredibly quick to respond. It was like you'd kept the answer ready in your mouth, because you anticipated someone saying something along the lines of what Mike just said.

"Eddie's not my boyfriend."

You'd said the same thing so many times in your teens that you instantly felt transported back in time a bit. You always fully believed yourself when you said that you and Eddie weren't dating, wholly trusted that you were speaking the truth. But it also always hurt you. It was a sentence that scratched at your insides with long, sharp nails that could puncture your flesh if you weren't careful.

"Ex-boyfriend, sorry," Mike corrected himself like he knew what he was talking about.

"Not that either."

You wondered if Mike thought it had been weird when you and Eddie had walked up holding hands, especially if he also thought that you used to date a long time ago. What kind of ex-lovers held hands still?

You hid yourself into your shoulders a bit more and felt how you had lost complete feeling in your toes. Mike frowned at you in confusion. He'd been around you when you were younger. He looked up to Eddie then, and still did now, and where ever Eddie was, you would be too. Robin would shout inappropriate jokes about you in public places all the time. Mike remembered how Eddie had ran after you once, just to squeeze your ass with both his hands, and you'd just turned around and smiled at him. You had let Eddie stop you, even though you were late for something already, and Mike had heard how Robin softly said to Steve that you were definitely fucking each other, which had made Steve scoff loudly. "No, they're not!" Steve had exclaimed. But then they all saw how you looped fingers through a belt hoop on Eddie's jeans to pull him closer into you, and Robin had given Steve a look that said, see? And Steve had stared for a moment before stuttering, "Oh, so, maybe they are...".

"We've never dated," you stated, sensing Mike's confusion with your eyes back on Dustin and Eddie who had now seemingly found themselves in a snowball fight. Dustin hid behind what was starting to look like a snowman, but seemed abandoned now. They wouldn't finish it, you knew it, and that was okay, because numbness was starting to creep up your ankles and you really wanted coffee.

"Eddie!" you called. You saw him freeze and perk up to look at you, like a startled meerkat, big brown eyes locked right onto you and awaited what you were going to say next.

"Coffee!" you beckoned him with your whole upper body, unwilling to take your hands from your pockets, and Eddie came running immediately, under loud protest of Dustin and Mike. Because Dustin didn't want coffee. And Mike was so annoyed that Eddie hadn't listened to him when he called them over earlier.

You started walking and your numb feet felt weird in your shoes, but the movement in your legs was very welcoming. You fell into step with Mike and let Eddie and Dustin catch up with you. When Eddie got close, all wet hair and wild eyes, he latched onto your back and let out a shaking breath as he shivered up against you. He tried to sneak his hands into your pockets alongside yours, shoving them in, bunching up the sleeves of his coat as he did, and finding warmth there. He squeezed your hands through your gloves, and then you walked together like that, like that didn't make you love Eddie more than you already did.

"You can hold Mike," Eddie smiled when you felt Dustin's peering eyes burning holes into the two of you, and a short silence followed before Mike took off running. "Come here, Mike! Cuddle me!" Dustin shouted, as he chased after him and Eddie took the moment to sneak a kiss onto your temple as you laughed and let it fill your chest with pure love for him. Eddie was here.

That evening, you met Steve outside Wayne's trailer before all three of you headed in and enjoyed Wayne's cooking together. The trailer hadn't changed much – some obvious things were different, of course. There was no more fold-up bed in the corner of the living room. It wasn't as messy without all Eddie's things slung about. And it also wasn't as smelly inside – Eddie was never allowed to smoke indoors, but Wayne made long hours, and rules never really stopped Eddie. It was good that the trailer felt different, you thought. It made it feel less like you were a teenager still. Less like you'd traveled back in time.

You sat together, and ate Wayne's homemade meatloaf. "It's the only thing I can make that's decent enough," Wayne undersold his signature dish, like he always did. "Please tell me you have more that I can take with me," Eddie said through a mouthful, and with every bite he took, you thought Eddie looked better. Healthier, with more colour to his cheeks and more life in his eyes.

You ate until you couldn't anymore, you reminisced and you laughed. You didn't think you'd ever seen Wayne laugh the way he did when he told the story of how he once caught Steve sneaking out, trying to climb out of a window unsuccessfully, high as a kite, whilst the door right next to the window was wide open. Wayne laughed so hard, it squeezed tears from his eyes and he could barely make it through the story.

You saw Eddie lean back in his chair, his grin wide, love swelling his chest and flaring his ribcage as he looked at his uncle. He almost looked drunk with love and admiration, and for a second you thought Eddie had just invited you over for dinner at Wayne's because he knew that Wayne loved traveling back in time just as much as he did.

You all helped clean up before Wayne had to leave for his shift at work, and just before he walked out the door, Wayne spoke to you like you were all 16 and about to stay the night over at Eddie's.

"You let your parents know you're here?"

You and Steve looked at each other with stupid smiles, and then both nodded. "Yes, Mr Munson."

"There's pop in the fridge, and there's microwave popcorn, but don't let Eddie touch it, or he'll burn the place down."

There was still a black scorch mark in the kitchen from when Eddie had literally nearly burned the place down. All of your eyes found it, and you saw Eddie grin with a little guilt hidden underneath. It was nice to be at an age where you could joke about things Wayne had been so angry about at the time that they had happened, you could feel it bubble in your stomach and saw Steve almost burst from the strain of barely withheld laughter.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," these were words meant just for you, because Wayne knew they were rendered useless on Eddie and on Steve.

"And boys, look after her." and those were words meant just for Steve and for Eddie, because Wayne knew your parents and he always worried what they thought of you being over in his trailer without adult supervision.

"We will." Steve and Eddie spoke in unison, their tones entirely different from each other. Wayne smiled the smallest of smiles, having greatly enjoyed stepping back into the little routine, and left the three of you alone.

"Movie?" Steve then asked. "For old time's sake?"

And it was so stupid. Because sat on the couch together, it felt like nothing had changed in over ten years. You stared at Wayne's little old shitty TV that he still had, "Still works fine, don't need to replace things that aren't broken," and you picked a movie from a stack of tapes that still held exactly the same titles it did ten years ago. No new additions, everything the same, just labels more faded. You'd sat down in a corner of the couch and pulled your legs up, only for Eddie and Steve to immediately protest.

"I'm not middle-seating it,"

"Move,"

And so you were pulled and pushed into the center of the couch, one boy either side of you, and you sat through a full movie, not paying attention to a single thing that happened in it. Because you were sat next to Eddie, and it was freezing outside, but Eddie was warm - he was all you could feel and all you could think about. And at one point, Eddie's hand that was resting over the back of the couch fell onto your shoulder. And when Steve wasn't looking, Eddie used it to pull you into him and you snuggled up. But then when Steve did look, he didn't even seem fazed. Didn't even mention it. Because this was what it had always been like, and Steve loved his friends all the same, whether they were touching each other, or not.

That's when you felt her take over; your teenage self. You were her, all open, unrestrained and naive in all the best ways. You sighed and sunk into yourself, because you'd missed her. And you knew that she would fight adult-you if you were to deny a kiss from Eddie. Because that was how these nights always ended, didn't they?

Except this night, it didn't, because you weren't actually your teenage self with endless pits of energy within you, and you'd had a long day. It didn't help that whatever you were watching didn't interest you at all, and Eddie's breathing was rhythmic and deep. The last thing you remembered was Eddie and Steve make soft conversation over you as you'd let your eyes close. They said things about the movie. There was small talk about Wayne. You tried to stay awake, hoped that maybe you'd catch them exchange words about you, but you drifted off faster than you could grasp in the moment.

You stirred awake when you felt someone pull you upright by your arms and then guided them to sling over their shoulders. Then there were arms that wrapped around your waist, and a soft restricted groan close to your ear as you got hoisted up off of the couch.

"Mmhm?" So tired.

"Come on, we're getting you into the car," Eddie whispered, and you heard Steve huff a tiny laugh through his nose.

You moved your legs to walk, because you absolutely could walk, but strong hands underneath your thighs held you up and in place. A coat got draped around you, over you, covering you as best it could.

"Tie my scarf," Eddie softly instructed Steve. "So it won't fall," and you felt how something tied around the back of your neck that pulled with Eddie's movement, and you imagined the woven wool tied the two of you together. When Steve opened the door, a cold gust of wind ruined every little bit comfortability and you tightened your koala-grip around Eddie.

"Steve started the car 5 minutes ago, it'll only be cold for a second."

The next morning you woke up on your couch with your face pressed into Eddie’s back. Your made-up couch, where Eddie had placed you down onto the cool sheets after insisting that he also carried you into your apartment when Steve had driven you all back to your building. You’d accepted every touch and every hold with your eyes closed and your limbs slack. Steve had whispered good night when you got out of the elevator at your floor, and Eddie had suggested you could have breakfast together the next day.

“Why are we on the couch?” your voice, thick with sleep, spoke into the dark morning.

You obviously remembered going to sleep on the couch, but only just now wondered why exactly Eddie hadn't taken you into the bedroom, where you'd probably both be much more comfortable, would have a lot more space.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste,” Eddie’s voice was gravelly, like he’d been screaming into a microphone on a stage all night, or like he had a really bad cold. "You made it look very nice."

You pressed your lips against Eddie’s shoulder blade over his T-shirt. It wasn't a kiss per se, but a nice place to just rest your mouth for a little bit. You inhaled Eddie, his scent unmistakably him and you felt him snuggle backwards a little into you more. Confusion struck. You knew this fabric. You smelled your own laundry detergent in the mix of all things Eddie and leant back to get a better look at what he was wearing.

“Are you… are you wearing your old hellfire club T-shirt?”

“Mmh, found it in your pajama drawer,”

Eddie had caught a glimpse his old T-shirt and hadn’t hesitated to put it on, dressing himself in nostalgia, knowing it would fill his cup all the way up to the brim. How could it not? He had just watched a film in the trailer with you and Steve. He had spent the day fucking around with Dustin and Mike. And now, wearing his old T-shirt to bed? This is exactly the type of shit he went to Hawkins for. The type of shit he needed. That grounded him. It pulled him off his pedestal and forced him into his authentic self.

After pulling the T-shirt over his head, he had slid onto the couch next to you, and made sure he positioned himself lower than you, pressing his head underneath your chin. Let you hold him. Made him feel smaller. Younger. Like his old, teenage self.

"Is today your last day?" you loved Eddie in his hellfire club T-shirt. It transformed him more into the Eddie that you knew, inside and out.

"Alive? I hope not," Eddie was quick witted, but you didn't appreciate the joke and stayed silent. Eddie picked up on it immediately.

"They're picking me up tomorrow, yea,"

Eddie said it too neutrally. No emotion or feeling behind his words. You wondered which end of the scale he was on; was he ready to get out of here, or did he maybe wish he could have a little more time? It was probably the former, you thought, and you let it hurt your chest, regretting even thinking about it in the first place. You tightened your hold on Eddie. Pressed your cheek into his back more. You needed to burrow; disappear into everything that was overwhelmingly Eddie for as long as he would let you.

"Do you want to get up?" Eddie asked after a while, his voice suddenly normal, no trace of sleep left at all.

"No," you muffled into his T-shirt, and you felt his body shake with silent laughter.

"Come here,"

You were already there, you thought, but Eddie started shifting to turn around and maneuvered you underneath the covers until you were practically on top of him. He hugged you tightly to his body and you laid like that for a while. Eddie would sometimes kiss your head, swirl his nose into your hair and you could feel how your breathing started syncing up. Like you locked together, somehow. They were blissful moments of nothingness, just the two of you, and you wished they could last forever. You tilted your head and looked up, and without permission or the right, Eddie stole the chance to press kisses to your cheek, creeping closer to your mouth with every single one he planted onto you. You felt yourself at the far end of a bridge, and with every millimeter Eddie got closer to your mouth, you could envision him take big steps across it. You held the power to halt him, make him stop somewhere midway, but he was running, and you really wanted him to crash into you.

Eddie kissed you. It was slow and lazy. It felt dangerously familiar in all the right ways and all the wrong ways at once. Morning kisses turned into morning making out and you felt flutters all throughout your lower stomach that you tried very hard to ignore. Until you couldn't anymore, and you caught yourself, smiled into your kiss and forced it to break.

"Eddie, I don't think..." you started, but breathed as you looked at his mouth. Words faltered you entirely, because Eddie's mouth was there, and it wanted to kiss you, and God, wasn't that exactly what you yearned for?

"I know," Eddie knew exactly what you meant, not needing to hear the words to understand them. "I know."

When you heard a key turn in your front door, Eddie and you were still wrapped up in sheets together. "Steve." Eddie warned, and you knew he was right, immediately shooting up from the couch and scurrying into the kitchen. You pretended you were making coffee when Steve stepped into your living room. Steve was dressed, but the bedhead on him revealed he'd not been awake long at all.

"Breakfast?"

You made toast, and you scrambled some eggs – even parted some oranges for Eddie and Steve. Breakfast was enjoyed mostly in silence, and it was comfortable, just the three of you chewing, sipping, occasionally yawning and stretching. You all shared tired eyes and eventually talked about your plans for the day. Steve said Robin had time to hang out, and Eddie said he wanted to be outside. Go for a walk. See Hawkins in the snow some more, because it looked so nice, all dirt and grime covered up by thick blankets of shimmering white.

When Eddie went to the toilet, Steve eyed you for a second and then sighed loudly. He was annoyed with a capital A and his frown translated it loud and clear.

"It's worse this time, isn't it?" he scoffed, having observed you long enough to know he was right. "Why did you let it get worse?"

You were quick to shoot him down, not wanting to get into it right now. If you did, you'd argue, because it felt unfair for Steve to keep shifting all blame onto you when it was never just you, was it?

"Stop. Everything's fine," you actively gaslit him, and you were very aware of it too.

"Your bed looks extremely untouched in there, you're not fooling anyone," Steve pointed in the direction of your bedroom, having seen your pristine made up bed from the hallway when he'd walked in. Steve could deal with the two of you sharing a bed, but the couch felt different. The thought of you sharing a big bed left Steve the chance to at least pretend you both kept to your own sides of it with your backs towards each other. Finding Eddie untangling himself from the sheets on the couch, and your pajamas all twisted up around your body made him put two and two together. It's wasn't a hard puzzle to solve.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," you got up and started clearing the table, desperate for this chat with Steve to end.

"Yes, we will, when I come over to peel you from your bathroom tiles, crying shell of a person," Steve seemed angry with you, spat his words with venom. You understood it was just worries from a friend, but all you wanted to do was get angry in return, even if it made no sense.

"Steve, I-" you hissed, but stopped yourself when you heard your toilet flush. It was just glares from the both of you then, eyes shooting daggers, calling each other names that couldn't reach Eddie's ears.

That afternoon, Robin had picked the three of you up and parked somewhere close to Lovers Lake. It had completely frozen over. You were about to say you should've all brought ice skates, but Robin was already on the ice. She took slow steady steps, unsure, and a little shaky. Steve followed, a lot more confident, and when the ice didn't crack when he jumped to demonstrate how thick it was, you and Eddie stepped on too. You held onto Eddie on the slippery ice and slid quite far out together, following Steve and Robin who figured out they could run without slipping or falling. They were laughing, chasing each other, and spinning in circles around you. Robin slid over and almost bumped into you, "I've not figured out how to stop yet," and took hold of both of your hands before she started running backwards, speeding up as she dragged you along. The thrill had you shrieking, and it was fun, even though there wasn't a single second you didn't think you were going to fall and hurt yourself.

When Robin slowed down a little, it gave you a chance to look over your shoulder, and you could see Steve and Eddie talk. You were too far away to hear them, too far away to even read their faces properly, but Steve seemed sad as he spoke, and Eddie seemed annoyed as he listened.

You asked Robin if she knew what they were talking about, and she giggled, "Probably confessing their undying love for each other," making you laugh. When the four of you joined each other again with flushed faces and cold fingers, you started on your way back to get off the ice, and Eddie seemed more distant.

Eddie didn't grab a hold of you the way you would've wanted him to. Eddie didn't reach for your hand to hold, even though his legs still seemed just as unsteady and wobbly. Eddie didn't wrap an arm around your shoulders as you walked back through the woods to where Robin had parked her car. And Eddie didn't want to sit in the backseat with you, calling shotgun and running the last few steps to the car to ensure his place in the front.

There was only one thing you could conclude; Steve had tried to be a good friend to you, had tried to let Eddie know to back off a bit, maybe. And you loved your good friend Steve, but could strangle him in the moment. All you had were glares for him from your spot in the car behind Eddie, which Steve pretended he didn't see, and Robin caught in the rearview mirror.

That evening, around 8pm, you all stepped into The Hideout, and you were a little shocked at the welcome you got. The welcome Eddie got. There were maybe 15 people, and the place had seemed quiet, people minding their own business, but when eyes landed on Eddie, everyone seemed up on their feet and he was hauled in like the super star he was.

Eddie was given drinks by strangers, talked to by everyone, all at once, and asked by the young band playing that night to sign their instruments. Random men patted him on the back, acted like they were long lost friends, and talked to him like they knew Eddie - talked to him like Eddie knew them.

It was overwhelming to witness, let alone be the guy who has to take it all in, and you sighed a breath of relief when you saw Steve had been able to grab a little table a bit further into the back for the four of you. Away from the bright lights that surrounded the bar. Away from the band who had already pulled Eddie up on stage and had pressed a guitar into his hands, "One song, Eddie! Come on!" and who was he to deny these young boys a little bit of fun?

When he stepped off stage after playing three, four, maybe even five songs, you touched Eddie's arm and pointed out where you were sat. Eddie just handed you the two drinks he'd already been handed by strangers and told you he'd be there in a second. Eddie took his time talking to anyone that wanted to talk to him. This was rockstar Eddie. Famous Eddie Munson. Eddie who lived somewhere high up on a pedestal. You admired him, because he was everything Eddie would've looked up to when he was younger, and now he had made it.

You admired him, were so proud of him, but you weren't sure if you necessarily liked him.

When Eddie eventually joined you, the four of you chatted, laughed, flipped coasters off the edge of the table and tried to catch them after just one rotation. Robin could stack several up and flip them all together, catching them all in one swift move, and you all tried to see if you could too, but made coasters fly instead. Eddie dared Steve to get on stage, sit behind the drumkit, give a dumb ba-dum-tss as if someone had just told him a bad joke. Steve called bluff on Robin when she said she was going to order a shot and try to get a girl's phone number. You went and got more drinks for all of you, and the bartender gave them to you for free, waved at Eddie in the back and made you wish you'd ordered more expensive drinks instead of just four beers.

The night was all giggles and pure joy, and you loved every second the four of you spent together so much, it made you forget that Eddie was leaving the next day. Eddie was there now, and that was all you really had, and all that really mattered.

Steve ended up being the first to leave and Robin dipped out not much later. It was only just past 11 when Eddie asked the owner to call a taxi for the two of you, and you finished your drinks in silence, Eddie's hand on your thigh, smiling stupid smirks and catching stolen glances. You knew where the night was headed, and you gladly let Eddie lead the way.

You made your way into your apartment by the sheer sense of intuition alone. You hadn't broken from one another since stepping into the elevator, and letting yourself into your apartment was a messy, fumbling, frustrating task, because Eddie wouldn't stop kissing you, and you liked how he pushed you up against the door too much.

Getting to your bed eventually, you let Eddie push you back onto your mattress. A knee pressed into the springs in between your legs and he hovered over you with his hair cascading down, giving you tunnel vision. All you could see, feel, smell, hear and taste was Eddie.

"Let's get you what you need,"

You moaned as you let him, taking all of what he was willing to give you in the moment. Eddie was all soft, caressing fingers with a caring mind that searched for a condom before getting himself anywhere near you. All attentive eyes and thoughtful lips. Until he wasn't. Until he grew rough. You could feel him slowly shift into the guy who you'd seen hold a guitar that night. The man he turned into when he stepped on stage. All confidence, all ego. You knew he wasn't just giving you what he thought you needed. Eddie was taking from you what he wanted and asked no permission, because he knew he already had it.

Eddie went for a shower after, and you hadn't hesitated to join him, unwilling to leave his side during these last few moments that you had with him. Eddie let you wash his hair, let himself melt under your massaging touch and the hot stream of water. He let you charge the last little bit of his inner battery, unaware he was draining yours simultaneously. You asked if you could braid his hair after combing it with him sat on the floor, one of your knees on either side of his shoulders, and he had just hummed, drowning in the bliss of having someone touch him like this. You french braided his hair out of his face and made sure his curl pattern would look nice when he'd undo them. Eddie curled his arms around your legs, and you knew it was the last bit of past Eddie you were going to get from him. Come tomorrow morning, he'd see one of his band members and he'd take the foot he still kept in the past and would scrape it along gravel towards his future. You had only now.

And now... here you were.

It was just past two in the morning, and Eddie was asleep in your bed whilst you were staring at him with tears escaping your eyes, willing time to slow down until it stopped entirely. You honestly really didn't mean to wake up him. You didn't. But you couldn't help the small sob that escaped you, even though you really tried, and you held your breath right after in hopes of the silence compensating it enough.

But Eddie had heard you. Caught you, eyes blinking open and meeting the worst version of you. It was the wrong time and the wrong place to meet this version of you, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. Thick, salty tears had left your face wet, and when Eddie cupped your cheek with his hand, he felt what he hadn’t already been able to see in the dark.

The adult in you didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to wake Eddie up any more than you had already done. The adult in you wanted Eddie to live his life for himself, the way he had been doing for the past however many years, chasing dreams he had never been able to shut up about when you were younger. The adult in you wanted success for Eddie in every single form he would accept it.

But your teenage self kicked your adult self in the shins and shouted, "Fuck what you want, what about what I want?". You wanted to argue. To talk, at least. Be selfish in the moment and let go of what you held trapped in your heart, even if you knew Eddie wouldn’t know what to do with it – wouldn’t even really like it.

"Stay."

Eddie didn’t hesitate, not even in this state of being half-asleep half-awake, and said, "I can’t stay."

"Please, stay. Stay for Christmas." You sniffed loudly, almost doing it on purpose to manipulate him into feeling sad for you. To show you some empathy and to indulge you in your need for him.

"You know, I can’t stay, baby." Eddie made it sound softer that time, added a pet name, and hummed right after.

You knew he meant he didn’t want to stay. Hawkins wasn’t Eddie’s present, or future for that matter. It was Eddie’s past; the past where he would step one foot back into every couple of months. The past he had to revisit in order to keep his future bright as he would stare at it up ahead. The second the mental image of his future started dulling, Eddie dove head first into his past, into you, until the sun would come back out. Then, he’d be off again.

"That’s okay, I don’t want you to."

You sent mixed signals, but you meant them. Both were true. If Eddie didn't want to stay, you didn't want to keep him there. Eddie frowned with a type of confidence you didn’t appreciate.

"Lies."

"I want you to stay if it’s not going to hold you back. I want you to stay because you want to stay. Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t..." You paused and tried to let your mind find the right words.

"Anymore." You added.

"This." You finished.

Eddie let the silence linger for longer than you liked, and the confidence you had seen in Eddie's expression faltered slightly. Just a little. Just enough for you to have seen it in the dark.

"You know I love you right?" Eddie tried saving it, but you didn't know if Eddie even knew what he was trying to save exactly.

"That doesn’t change anything. Love doesn’t make you stay for Christmas."

"I’ll stay for Christmas." Eddie moved in closer to you, pulled you into him to cuddle, to hold you as you cried. He wanted to give you this fantasy for a moment if it would get you through the night in one piece.

"You can’t." you protested, already ripping at the seams.

"I can’t." Eddie sighed.

Overnight, Eddie had changed from the guy who held you as you cried, to the guy who left your apartment with all of his things without waking you up to say goodbye.

Eddie had been there, jammed up high, all the way up in all of your senses until, very abruptly, he wasn't anymore.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken your teenage self with him, leaving you hollow, empty, barren, bleak, and lifeless.

Eddie was gone, and you let your hands reach for him across your mattress, feeling sharp pains in your chest when you didn't feel him there, your apartment was quiet.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken every trace of himself, like he had never even been there to begin with. Except for one thing. You knew it would be there. He always left one, and why would this time be different? You reached up for it without even opening your eyes, letting your fingers find it on the pillow where he'd rested his head before he'd walked out on you.

A little note.

A small message to leave you with. A message that was meant to hold you over until you'd see him again. But would you? See him again?

You cracked open eyes that were already wet and let them adjust, blink into focus, to read what words Eddie felt would excuse his absence.

"Merry Christmas x"

Eddie was gone. And so were you. Read the sequel: Over Now

-----

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#secret santa project #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie imagine #fanfiction

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photogirl894 · 1 month

Note

Hi Morgan!

I don’t know if you’re taking more than one request per requestee for your 1000 follower celebration, so if you are, you can disregard one of mine, I just thought I’d submit another because I love your writing! I thought of this story: Hunter/reader, what if reader gets amnesia from something that happened to her so she doesn’t remember Hunter. It can be a relearning to fall in love and or/big memory reveal like they’re in the rain or something and that sparks her memory. Could do the forehead touch from your prompt list?

Thanks again for all your stories and sharing your talents <3

You know I love getting any requests from you, my dear 🥰 Especially if it involves our beloved Sergeant, as well 😍

"Muscle Memory"

1. Forehead touches

Pairing: Hunter x fem reader

***

Everything about your world was a haze right now.

You could only remember up to a certain point in time: waking up on a ship with a group of men you didn't recognize. Anything before that...was just darkness in your mind. You didn't know why you couldn't remember anything else at all. One of the men on the ship, who wore goggles and was called Tech, informed you that you had taken a bad fall, suffered a blow to the head, had been unconscious for a few days and now, seemed to be suffering a case of amnesia. You weren't sure what scared you more: the fact that you had amnesia or that you were doing something dangerous enough to make you fall and get a bad blow to the head.

The men tried explaining things in a way that would tell you who you were before without overwhelming you. They were a squad of Clones fighting in a war and you were also a trained soldier who had joined up with them. On their latest mission, an unexpected explosion had happened and had sent you flying over a steep hill, which was where things had gone wrong.

Wow...you were a soldier? Fighting in a war? That was definitely not what you were expecting to hear. They made you sound pretty badass. Even though you couldn't remember any of that, you were determined to get your memories back somehow and the Clones were willing to help in any way they could.

The others' names were Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo and Hunter. Though, of all of them, Hunter seemed to be avoiding you the most and you weren't sure why for a while. He seemed sad and closed off whenever he even looked at you. You would try to talk to him and his responses would be brief before turning away or walking away. Later on, you were told by Echo that you and Hunter had actually been an item before your accident and that it was hard for him at the moment being around you when you didn't remember any of that. You couldn't help but feel an ache in your heart for him. He was handsome, for sure. You wished you could give him back what he'd lost, but it didn't feel right when you couldn't recall anything about him.

Maybe one day.

A couple weeks passed and only tiny details would return to your mind every so often, but nothing really substantial. The Clones had suggested, once you seemed okay enough, to maybe try your hand at your combat skills to see if maybe that would awaken anything in you. You tried shooting a blaster and, even though you managed to land a couple shots, it didn't seem to work. However, Wrecker suggested sparring with Hunter. Apparently, you were better at hand-to-hand combat before and Hunter was the one who had taught you. You blushed immensely at the thought of trying to fight him and Hunter looked pretty uncomfortable, too. Though, the rest of the Clones pushed for it, too, and eventually, you both relented. With that, the two of you went outside, thinking the sparring might not last very long as the sky was getting dark with rain clouds.

"I'll uh...I'll try and go easy on you in case you don't remember how to fight," Hunter said to you timidly.

"I appreciate that," you replied, bringing your hands up to a defensive position. Hopefully, this wouldn't end too badly.

After taking a moment to psych himself up, Hunter stepped forward and went to throw a punch. For a split second, you panicked, but then your arm moved of its own accord and blocked Hunter's oncoming attack. You both stopped and looked at each other in astonishment.

"How did I...?" you asked aloud.

"Looks like your muscle memory might be kicking in," Hunter observed. "That's something."

That got you almost excited in the moment. "Come at me again," you told him.

Hunter gave a nod and went for a couple more punches and your body kept reacting before your mind could process things and you blocked both hits. A smile slowly crept up on your face. Your memories might not be coming back, but this was still progress. Your body hadn't forgotten the training instilled in you. You decided to take a chance and went for a hit at Hunter, going to fight back. He blocked and parried your hits and things began to heat up between you as your sparring increased. Punches and kicks were being thrown about at each other and parried with ease on both sides.

At one point, you could see a pleased grin on Hunter's face and strangely, it brought butterflies to your stomach...which felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. That small distraction was enough to give Hunter the upper hand and, getting too caught up in the moment, he swept his leg into yours, knocking you onto your back and suddenly, he was above you, pinning your wrists to the ground. His face was only inches away from yours, the two of you breathing heavily and fanning each other's faces with your hot breath. Along with that, you could feel a sprinkling of rain drops starting to fall on your skin from above. His brown eyes looked down upon you with an intensity that made your heart race...and the feeling of him above you, his face so close to you...this was something you thought you had experienced before...

There was a bang in your head and you let out a pained cry.

Hunter had pinned you down to the ground in your first sparring match and you groaned in frustration at him beating you. You had felt so confident that you'd best him. He had your wrists pinned down and he was only inches away from your face, his eyes gazing into your very soul.

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," he taunted you, his nose brushing yours.

Determined to not let this be the end, you decided to play along and said, "All right, fine. You win."

When you felt his grip on your hands loosen, you pulled them free and pushed back on him, flipping him over onto his back and you moved to straddle him, a cocky grin on your face. His eyes were wide in shock for a moment, but then his lips curled up in a smirk at seeing you on top of him like this. The flirtatious look in his eyes made your breath catch and finally, after keeping your feelings to yourself for a long time, you couldn't wait any longer. You bent over, took his face in your hands and kissed him firmly for the first time. After a brief, stunned moment, you felt him kiss you back and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight like he'd never let you go.

Suddenly, your mind was flooded intensely with a wave of various memories in almost an instant.

Meeting the Bad Batch for the first time. Your first mission with them. The first time Hunter ever complimented you. Getting drinks with the boys at 79's. The first time Hunter held your hand. Crosshair teasing you about staring at Hunter from across the ship. The safety you felt with the boys. Them telling you that you would always be one of them. Hunter admitting to you that he had wanted you since the moment he met you. Your first night of passion together where you both ended up confessing your love for each other. The last mission you and the squad had gone on and then the explosion that had sent you falling....

A sharp, heavy gasp escaped you and your body convulsed, causing Hunter to rear back in shock.

You remembered...you remembered everything!

Fearing he had accidentally hurt you, Hunter asked with worry, "(Y/N), what's wrong? Are you okay?"

After taking a second to catch your breath, you gazed up at him, all-consuming joy overtaking you at remembering the man who held your heart, the man who cared so much for you, the only love of your life. You then decided to do the same thing you'd done in the first memory that had returned to you: you pushed him over onto his back and moved on top of him. Just as Hunter was about to question what you were doing, you took hold of his head, leaned over and crushed your lips against his. For a moment, he didn't move, but then you felt him relax and his arms wrapped tightly around your back. There, on the ground in the middle of the rain, your lips and his engaged in a dance you knew well that you'd thought you'd forgotten forever and it felt heavenly to be kissing your Sergeant again. Your back was getting cold from the rain that was now drenching you, but you couldn't have cared less.

Finally, Hunter broke the kiss and stared up at you, eyes wide with both surprise and relief as a hand came up to trace your cheek. "Sweetheart?" he asked, a trace of hope in his voice.

You nodded and exclaimed, your voice breaking, "I remember! I remember everything!" Then you leaned down and touched your forehead to his, your hands resting on his cheeks. "I remember you, Hunter, and I love you! I love you so much!"

He tilted his head up and kissed you once more. "I love you, too," he replied before flipping you over, putting himself on top this time. "Welcome back, my love. I missed you terribly." Then he resumed kissing you again, overjoyed at having his love back.

Back in the Marauder, the others were about to call out for you and Hunter to come back in because of the rain when they saw the two of you kissing passionately on the ground.

"Well...I think it's safe to say that the sparring idea worked," Crosshair remarked.

"I think we should just leave them. They'll come in when they're ready," said Echo, ushering the rest of them away.

They all were glad your memories had returned and you were yourself again, but at that moment, it was Hunter that needed you the most.

Photogirl894's Physical Affection Prompts

Photogirl894's 1,000 Followers fics

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #bad batch prompts #hunter x reader #photogirl894 1000 followers

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended.

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be.

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person.

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look.

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left.

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth.

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say.

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more.

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point. “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil.

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now.

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion.

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering.

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway.

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner.

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here.

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member.

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway.

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath.

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything.

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now.

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it.

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body.

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say.

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze.

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room.

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now.

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way.

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking.

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen.

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw.

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin.

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to.

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too. Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone.

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way.

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it.

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole.

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem.

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them.

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening.

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out.

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame.

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you.

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time.

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place.

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own.

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing.

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak.

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you.

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again.

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you.

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer.

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side.

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds.

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth.

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh.

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him.

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right.

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want.

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat.

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises.

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver.

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too.

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down.

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back.

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you.

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants.

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust.

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst.

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace.

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy.

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust.

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through.

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls.

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it.

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt.

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace.

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt.

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you.

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure.

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly.

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling.

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking.

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle.

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation.

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack.

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that.

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side.

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek.

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear.

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck.

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter.

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.” If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point?

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout.

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs.

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm.

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself.

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body.

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back.

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him.

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open.

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut.

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone.

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello.

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit.

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising.

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle.

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

#joel miller #fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #bless this mess #the last of us #tlou #we likey?#exhibition kink #enemies to lovers #dark!joel miller

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