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ecstasyhighway · 6 days

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You & I | e. williams

chapter ii

CW: abby cheats on reader 😓 uhhhh there is no smut in this its really just a look into their lives kinda. Drinking and literally one mention of ellie being high. reader has her own friends who ive just given random ahh names and the owner of the music store ellie works at is mentioned. ermmm i think thats it if i missed anything pls lmk.

a/n: please understand that i am not a professional writer.. shit might be wrong (grammer, punctuation ect) its not really proofread but its been put through grammarly so yehah enjoysies i guess

MEN DNI I WILL FIND YOU.

wc: 2.3k ish

prologue. ch 1.

You wake up to the sun shining into your room, your phone going off relentlessly, “Man what the- who is texting me” You pick up your phone,

*45 missed messages from Abby*

‘baby cmon’

‘It was a mistake, I'm sorry’

‘y/n you are doin way too much rn just pick up baby please’

You roll your eyes at her pleads. She cheated on you with one of your best friends and she just expects you to forgive her? Hell no! She betrayed your trust. You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and began to get ready to shower.

‘Where the fuck is my speaker..’ you think to yourself as you look through your apartment, making a mess of clothes on the floor. You stop and think back to the last time you used it.. Last night! you go to your kitchen and sure enough there it is, right on the counter. You grab it and go to your bathroom, put on a playlist, and get in the shower.

Ellie couldn’t sleep, she was just too embarrassed, she still could not believe she was touching herself out in public. She thought she was cringe as fuck for that.. Whatever she has to get ready for work. She does a quick sniff test ‘Good enough’ she gets into her car and heads to the shop.

She gets to the store and notices that one of the lights on the sign has gone out. She grabs her phone out of her pocket and sends a text to Mrs. Alden,

‘Good morning Mrs. Alden, I just got to the shop and noticed that one of the lights that are on the sign has gone out. Would you like me to call someone?’

‘Good Morning Ellie. Yes, you can call someone. I will be stopping by at around 4 pm. I need to pick up something and I need to pay the bills. I will see you later Ellie.’

*Ellie liked a message*

Ellie heads inside and gets the store ready to be opened, she calls a repair company to schedule an appointment to get the light fixed. She goes to the back to do a quick restock.

“Ellie! I'm here, do you need anything?” Jesse yells from the other room, Ellie flinches at the sound of his voice and walks to where he was

“Fuck, Jesse you scared me, I dunno maybe? Not right now I don’t think. The electrician is coming to fix a light on the sign at like 12, but I might not be here so will you be able to let him in and show him which light it is? Oh also Mrs. Alden is coming around 4 so be respectful she's old and she will fire you if you are just the slightest bit disrespectful”

Jesse gives her a nod indicating that he understands,

Ellie goes to her little music room to rest as the store doesn't open until 10 and it's only 8 right now. She is nervous. As much as she loves Mrs. Alden, she scares the shit out of Ellie, she's quite old and mean, and she never comes to the shopâ€¦like ever.

Whitney Alden Is the owner of ‘Musemoon’, she started the shop in 1999 and it's been her baby ever since, she met Ellie when she was 10 and took her in, she helped Ellie understand music better and form a connection with it. Ellie is terrified of Mrs. Alden, why? Don't ask, she just is.

So Alden coming to the shop is very stressful for Ellie as she is the manager and is next in line to own the store when Whitney dies. Everything has to be perfect, no album out of place, no dust on the record players. Oh, and Ellie’s music room needs to be spick and span. So before Ellie takes a little nap she sets two alarms, one for 9:50 and another for 3:00.

The sound of the alarm jolts Ellie out of her sleep. She looks at the time, it’s 9:55, enough time for her to open up the store and do some inventory.

“Jessie, I'm gonna open up shop and do some inventory before it gets too busy in here alright”

“Okay”

The repair man had come to fix the light about 8 hours ago and Mrs. Alden left an hour ago. It’s currently 8 and Ellie is getting ready to leave, but Jessie stops her

“Hey, Ellie, Dina and I were going to go to this bar downtown with a couple of friends, you wanna come?”

“uhhh yeah, who all is gonna be there?”

“Me, Dina, Tara, Cat, Syd-”

“I’m sorry, Cat?” Ellie looked at him like he was stupid “Cat as in my ex? the girl who literally made me lose my shit for like half a year?”

“Yeah, but I thought ya’ll ended on good terms?”

“Jessie Jesus fuck of course we didn’t end on good terms I literally had to stop working for a while? She made me go insane, To her we ended on good terms but to me, she fucked me up.”

“sooooo that's a no to going to the bar?”

“no fuck you im going, I need a drink. Alden stressed the fuck out of me” She rolls her eyes playfully and gives him a lighthearted punch in the arm.

————————————

You get a call from Abby, she has been blowing your phone up all day. Why can’t she catch a hint, you’re pissed at her. You don’t want to talk to her. Ignoring the phone isn’t going to stop her. You need to talk to her. Face to face. ‘fuck’ you thought to yourself, you know if you pull up to her house and try to argue with her about this, all that's gonna happen is her hands in your pants fingering away the anger. No, you decided to stand your ground, you’re going to go to her house and talk to her like the adults you are. This will not end in hate fucking, you promise to yourself.

You get in your car and drive to her house, your phone still going off constantly. Once you get to her house your eyes fixate on a car. A car you’ve seen, shit a car you’ve rode in. What. The. Fuck. You walk to her front porch and bang on the door

“ABBY” you continue knocking but still no answer.

“ABBY MOTHER FUCKE- LET ME IN OR GOD SO HELP ME I WILL KICK YOUR DOOR DOWN”

The door swings open and you see Abby, she has a black muscle shirt on and some black and red basketball shorts. You can’t lie, she looks so fine.. But no you’re mad at her.

“Baby, baby..calm down we can talk abo-”

you cut her off mid-sentence and push past her and walk into her home. “Now why the fuck” you laugh a little in disbelief “Why the fuck is Lexi’s car in your driveway?”

“it's not what you think baby I promise”

you’re looking at her intensely, she’s bullshitting you right now,

“bullshit”

You begin to head to Abby’s room, hoping to god that it was really just a misunderstanding. But your stomach drops when she tries her hardest to stop you from going in there. You burst into her room and there you see it. Lexi Smith. Here in the flesh. Literally. She’s naked and in Abby’s bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me..?” Tears begin to swell in your eyes and your voice trembles. “are both of you being so serious right now? Lexi what? Abby, I'm used to you doing stupid shit like this. But Lexi? Really? fuck both of yall”

Lexi sits there, silent with nothing to say. You look at Abby, her arms are crossed and her head is down. You walk up to her. “Look at me,” you say sternly

She opens her eyes and looks into yours. Her eyes are looking into yours so gently, she thinks she's gonna get away with this. Not this time. You’re done. You can’t take this shit anymore.

You look in her eyes. Anger filled your senses, and before you could even process it, you slapped her, hard enough to leave a mark. “Don’t call my phone ever again. I'm done, Abby. I'm done with you” You storm off to your car, tears still in your eyes, you get into your car and just sit there. You finally let go of the anger and sadness that had just built up in your body. You try your hardest not to cry too much but it's already too late. You drive home still crying. You open the door to your apartment and dial Jillian’s number.

‘hello..?’

“Jilly”

‘sweetheart? what's wrong?’

“Can you comeover please”

‘of course my love’

You hang up the phone and lie on your couch feeling numb. Why, though? This isn’t the first time Abby’s cheated… Maybe it's because it's your best friend that she cheated on you with. You sob even harder thinking about it.

about 5 minutes pass when you hear your door unlock and open

“y/n? sweetie? It's Jill” She walks over to you confused

��what’s wrong?”

you sniff, “Abby.. a-nd Lexi” You hiccup slightly between words “they…she..” You can’t even get your words out without getting the urge to cry. But Jillian understood what you said. She just hugs you and you both sit there for a moment so you can calm yourself.

“how about we try to take your mind off them for now, let's go out! a bar, my treat, Marshall and Jean can come yeah?”

you nod at her offer. Marshall, Jean, and Jillian. The ones who have been there since day one. The ones that have never betrayed you.

Jillian tells you to go get dressed and that Jean and Marshall will be there in about an hour.

Going out feels like a chore to you, you really don’t want to leave but, Jillian always knows what's best for you so you oblige. Throwing on a beige sweater dress and some heels, you and her were ready to hit the town.

Once you both arrive at the bar, you spot Marshall and Jean, ready with open arms to talk about how they never really fucked with Lexi and how they all knew she was fake. Even though they were the ones who told you to become friends with her during your freshman year of college, but whatever you know they’re just saying what you want to hear, trying to lighten the mood.

You are about three shots into some alcohol Jill had ordered for the table when you see a familiar face. Where did you see this girl? She looks so familiar, you begin to think back a day or two but the alcohol in your system was clouding your memory. The music store, right what was her name

you were so lost in thought you didn’t even realize Jean was trying to get your attention

“Hellooo?? Earth to y/n? girl hello I'm trying to talk to you”

“shit my bad what's up”

Marshall chimes in “What were you thinking about babes? you were so out of it”

You look at him and giggle a little, “okay guys, just listen” you pause hoping you have their full undivided attention. “you see that auburn-haired girl over there” You point in her direction trying to be discreet. “I know her, I met her like yesterday at that music store I went to”

They all look “Girll what is her name?” Marshall asks, trying to get any type of information he's definitely going to look her up and do some digging for you.

“I honestly do not remember. I know it started with an E or an A. Elsie? Ally?..Ellie! it was Ellie”

“bitchhh you should go talk to her” Jean chimes in but Jillian objects

“I really don’t think you should, you had a rough day and you’re already tipsy”

Jean and Marshall look at her angrily, “which is exactly why she should go talk to her. It might take her mind off of everything” Marshall says, trying to persuade her.

Jillian just throws her hands up in defeat. “Do whatever makes you happy y/n, just know I don’t think this is a good idea”

You consider just listening to her and not even taking the chance, but after some more encouraging words from Marshall and Jean, you give in, taking another shot before walking to her table.

You walk over to her, she’s sitting there so uninterested in what's happening around her.

“Hey?” you say softly trying not to startle her, She looks up at you, her eyes glossy and slightly red, she’s high..

“oh shit hey, you’re umm that girl from yesterday, y/n right?”

“yes, I am, anndd you’re Ellie right?”

she nods and looks into your eyes, “I just wanted to say hi, I saw you from across the room”

She smiles slightly “Well hey”

You realize you’ve been just standing there awkwardly, not saying anything

“Sorry I just wanted to say hi, I’ll get out of your hair now, again so sorry for bothering you”

She looks you up and down, “noo you are not bothering me if anything you’re saving me from them” She laughs and looks at her friends who are talking amongst themselves. You smile and giggle at her, you are very embarrassed,

“You want a drink?” She asks as she gets up from her seat and puts out her hand for you to take. You accept her offer and take her hand, she leads you to the bar and orders two whiskey sours

——————————

OH! and this was inspired by “The Thought Of You” by @ap3arll !!

🏷️ @vqxen @shiimer @bready101

#—ecstasyhighway #ellie smut #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #wlw smut #wlw #ellie williams series #ellie is so hot #i need her so fucking bad #writers on tumblr #tlou smut #tlou 2

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blueywrites · 1 year

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Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, infidelity, angst, break up (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter nine : liberation (8.7k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #28.

It’s a reckoning

Only what they want

Inside my heart is a fire

It’s burning like a thousand suns

Liberation — Buzz

The apartment is dark, save for the bedside light that always illuminates the side of Steve’s face as he sits propped against the headboard beside you. Right now, there’s nothing to block its soft glow from you; it does not bounce off tousled brown waves, turning them caramel in its warmth.

You’re sitting cross-legged in bed, freshly showered, hair dried, teeth brushed. Your legs are shaven smooth, gliding easily as you refold them against the sheets, and your face is dotted with little colorful pimple-patch stars. You’d lengthened your nighttime routine to distract yourself from an alarming fact: that Steve had said he’d be home in twenty minutes no less than fifty minutes ago. And despite the two texts you’d sent him since then and the one phone call that’d gone straight to voicemail, you’ve received nothing back to explain his delay.

It isn’t like Steve to go silent on you, especially lately; he’s been extra communicative in the last month or so. And though you’d resolved to break up with him— the thought makes a little shiver of anxious anticipation skitter down your spine— that doesn’t mean you don’t care about him. Frankly, you’re worried.

You’re clutching your phone like a lifeline, hunched over the tiny screen as you try desperately to use it as a distraction. But your thoughts keep stuttering back to the what-ifs and the whys despite your attempts to redirect them with pimple-popping Instagram reels, which are utterly disgusting but also strangely satisfying. Plus, you don’t even have to scroll; they just keep coming and coming and coming—

A loud thump and a muffled curse from outside the warm glow of your bedroom have your spine jolting ramrod straight. Instantly, your eyes are trained on the amorphous gray blobs in your darkened living room: the lump of the couch, the boxy corner of the television stand. Shadows shift amid more shuffling sounds, and you’ve just drawn your knees to your chest to scoot futilely backward when a body slumps against the bedroom doorframe.

“Steve?” Panic settles into befuddlement. "What—?” The question trails off, and you abandon it once you take in the state of your boyfriend.

Steve is a mess. His brown waves are truly disheveled— not artfully— and his typically smart-pressed khakis are creased beneath a white button-up with sleeves sloppily folded to his elbows. One is slipping down his forearm, and it slides lower as Steve mashes his fingers through his hair like he’d misjudged the distance between his hand and forehead.

“Hey, babe, s’rry, m’phone died.” Steve’s greeting is a deep continuous sigh as he fixes bleary hazel eyes on you, lids sagging like he can barely keep them open. You make to move off the bed— legs uncrossing, brow creasing in concern— but Steve waves you off with a wild shake of his hand. “I’m j’s goin’ to the bathroom. ‘Kay? I’ll be right there, hon.” He draws out the word ‘right’ as he pushes off the doorframe, propelling himself toward the ensuite. You watch him flash you a wide wobbly grin and stagger unsteadily into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Slowly, you settle down into bed, pulling the covers up over your shoulder as you turn away from the open doorway Steve just disappeared through. Your stomach twists as you hear the sound of the toilet lid clunk, followed by a stream of liquid flowing into the bowl. It twists not because of the sounds— a year of living together has accustomed you to that— but because Steve is drunk.

Really, really fucking drunk.

Steve is a social drinker. Whether with you, your foursome group, at happy hour, out with his college friends, or what-have-you, Steve Harrington is always the first to buy a round for the table and clink glasses. He thrives on that atmosphere; he’s most in his element with a drink in his hand and an easy smile on his face, basking in the glow of joint looseness and fraternal bonding that alcohol facilitates so readily. But Steve is always responsible; he never gets trashed. In the three years you’ve been together, you’ve never seen him like this, and you can’t help but think that it might be your fault.

Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s because you’d just resolved to break up with him, and it’s at the forefront of your mind. Maybe Steve getting trashed tonight has nothing to do with you. But you’re thinking about the long pause before Steve’s final text to you when he reemerges from the bathroom, feet dragging as he peels off all the layers of his rumpled clothing down to his boxer briefs. You’re thinking about the length of time you spent in the back of Eddie’s van as Steve collapses into bed behind you. A wave of acrid scent wafts over you— the bite of alcohol clinging to Steve’s skin. Your heart starts to pound, shoulders tightening beneath the sheets as you imagine Steve’s hand there, pushing you roughly onto your back so he can lean over and glare venomously into your face. ‘What took you so long, hm?’

But Steve’s hand is soft as he threads his arm under yours to press it against your ribs. He cuddles up behind you, pressing needily to the length of your body and firmly pulling you back against him. You feel him turn his head and tuck his nose against your shoulder, and his breath releases in a heavy, contented sigh as he clings to you. A quiet mumble slurs against your hair.

“M’so glad you’re here, b’by. I love you.”

The tension in your body transforms into a heavy, sinking sort of sadness. Your throat goes thick as it mixes with the familiar sticky ooze of your guilt, pooling against your ribs where Steve’s warm hand cradles you. The automatic desire rises within you: the impulse to reassure your boyfriend, to mirror his words, to soothe him and make him feel better. It’s what you always would’ve done in the past. It’s what you would’ve done even yesterday.

But yesterday, Eddie hadn’t yet said he cares about you and doesn’t want to hurt you. Yesterday, you hadn’t yet cradled him after he’d revealed the pain of his past. Yesterday, your fruit had been green, small, and immature, and now it is red, succulent, and ripe.

Today, everything is different. Today, you can’t mirror Steve’s words to bring him comfort. You can’t lie.

So instead, when your boyfriend tells you he loves you, you just adjust the position of your head against your pillow, let him hold you, and say nothing.

And you don't know whether it's a mercy to you, or to him, or maybe to both of you. But when Steve begins softly snoring less than a minute after telling you he loves you, it’s a mercy all the same.

–

Unsurprisingly, you wake before Steve on Saturday morning. You’d been in and out of sleep all night, dozing and waking with that sadness, guilt, and anxiety churning within you every time you smelled citrus and sea salt mixed with the tang of alcohol. When sunlight finally begins spilling from the edges of your bedroom shades, you carefully extricate yourself from his hold, padding quietly into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The motions offer a welcome distraction. You scoop coffee grinds into the filter, fill the basin with water, and flick the switch to begin brewing. You then untwist the tie from the whole grain bread, pull two slices out, and drop them into the toaster. Finally, an uncommon addition to the routine, you creep quietly into the bathroom to retrieve the aspirin, shaking two white pills into your palm. The breakfast you’re preparing isn’t for you; it’s for Steve, to soothe the hangover you’re sure will be haunting him when he wakes. A small kindness, freely given to soften the imminent blow of a difficult conversation. Or, perhaps you’ve offered Steve this kindness just to take the edge off your guilt. You don’t examine yourself too closely, afraid to see what truly motivates you.

Coffee, buttered toast, aspirin, and a glass of water are all placed on Steve’s bedside table before he wakes, blinking blearily as he emerges from beneath the sheets. His hair sticks from his head in wild tufts, unruly from the blanket he’d burrowed himself in once you’d left the bed. There’s a pink crease on his face from where he’d squished his cheek awkwardly against the pillow.

“Hey,” you say softly, perching on the edge of the bed as Steve rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands like a child might. You maintain the gentle tone as he squints at you, the corners of his hazel eyes pinched with the force of his wince. “I made you breakfast and brought you aspirin.”

“Mmmm.” The groan is one of both acknowledgment and petulant protest against the brightness of the bedroom, and despite yourself, your lips quirk in a little smile as Steve’s brow crumples in gratitude when you drop the tiny pills into his outstretched palm. He throws them back, and automatically you pass him the water, which he gulps down before setting the empty glass back on the table.

Steve pauses for a moment before reaching for the toast, hands hanging limply in his lap as he blinks. You eye him sympathetically. “You okay?”

Despite drinking the whole glass of water, Steve’s voice is still scratchy, dragging slightly when he responds. “Yeah. We, ah, went a little wild with the pickle-backs, obviously.” He picks up the buttered toast and takes a delicate bite, continuing after he swallows it. “They hit me harder than I thought they would, and after I texted you, I ended up getting on the subway going in the wrong direction.” He meets the surprised tilt of your brow with an easy tone, fully prepared for a ribbing. “I know, I know. How long have I lived here? The city should revoke my membership, honestly.”

His good humor has you shaking your head fondly, huffing a little amused chuckle through your nose as you pat his arm. “Just take it easy today,” you tell him kindly.

Steve is already perking as he finishes his toast, hazel eyes brighter as he claps a broad palm over yours, mimicking your pats. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.” With a sudden frown, Steve cautiously lifts his arm and sniffs. Instantly, his face crumples in incredulity. “Shit, babe, you let me cuddle you like this? I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s expression is charmingly boyish as he leans away and peers sheepishly at you. “It’s okay,” you tell him, but already he’s pulling himself out of bed. He sheds his boxer briefs as he speaks, and your eyes dart away from his bare body as he drops them in the laundry basket beside the closet.

“No way,” he says good-humouredly. “I’m not subjecting us to this stank any longer.” He closes the bathroom door behind him, and his final call muffles through the wood. “I’ll be showered and out in a flash!”

“Okay,” You call back, and that is that.

In the silence that follows, you sit aimlessly before collecting the empty plate and Steve’s coffee mug. You find yourself pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, and it grinds unpleasantly against the hardwood as you scoot in, sitting across from where you’d placed Steve’s steaming coffee cup. You consider making yourself breakfast, but now that Steve’s hangover has been tended to, you find your stomach churning again, more strongly than it had throughout the night. Sadness, guilt, anxiety, fear, and dread all condense into a viscous mass, weighing you down with a feeling similar to nausea. The hollow pang of your hunger is nearly smothered by it, so you just fold your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers and running your damp palms against your thighs when that is no longer enough. Seconds tick by at a crawl as you wait for Steve to emerge from the bedroom, and your mouth moves soundlessly as you rehearse again what you plan to say to him.

You’d spent all waking hours of the night churning over how you would break the news to your boyfriend that you want to break up with him. Mostly, you’d wanted to decide exactly what to say to justify your decision; you feel, after three years of dating, you owe Steve that. As you’d poured over the memories of your relationship, focusing the most energy on the last few months since you’d started swinging, you’d begun to piece together what you wanted to convey to him. Your reasons for breaking up with Steve were like a puzzle that you’d been looking at for too long up close, fragmented bits that only gained clarity once you’d begun to slowly inch backward. And though you’d reached seeking fingers behind you, clasping a calloused hand that helped guide you, the pieces had always been there. You just hadn’t known what you were looking at.

Because of that and what Eddie told you about Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy, you’d come to a decision last night not to tell Steve you’d cheated on him.

It wasn’t easy. You already feel guilty for betraying Steve yesterday, though, if you’re truly honest with yourself, you don’t regret the time you’d spent with Eddie in his van. Plus, the thought of lying to Steve by omission makes you feel dirty; the knowledge of your planned deceit settles over your shoulders like the mockery of a royal mantle. But you’d rather weather it than absolve yourself and destroy Steve in the process, and you know, deep down, that if you told Steve you’d cheated on him— not just broken rules, but actually cheated on him— it would destroy him. Even though you’re resolved to break up with him, you know Steve Harrington doesn’t deserve that.

Your thoughts— all the words you want to say, all the words you want to avoid— scatter like a flock of birds as you see him finally stride through the bedroom doorway, moving much more briskly now. Your heart begins to race, fingers curling as you track him with your eyes, watching as he retrieves a yogurt from the fridge and plucks a banana from the bunch on the counter. Steve’s bangs curl damply over one eye as he slides into the seat across from you, and his eyes flick to yours in a subtle double-take.

“You not eating breakfast?” he asks casually, peeling the foil top from his yogurt.

You shake your head, fingers twisting beneath the kitchen table where he can’t see. “Not hungry,” you say, trying to match his casual tone.

Steve regards you closely, and automatically, your eyes dart to the table to avoid his gaze. Your heart thumps in the silence. “‘Kay,” he says eventually. And after three years of dating and one year of living together, you know Steve can tell there’s something up with you. It’s clear in how he’s peeling the banana so meticulously and spinning the spoon in the yogurt for so long. His eyes flick to you as he eats in silence, staring until you look up, and then he schools his expression into neutral pleasantness. You feel suddenly, with uncanny clarity, that Steve is often doing that— thinking something but never communicating it.

A tinge of frustration rises from that viscous mass inside you, floating to the surface to diffuse across your face in flattened lips and a creased brow. But Steve either doesn’t notice or chooses to disregard it as he scrapes the bottom of his yogurt before asking, still entirely casually, “How’s your car?”

You stare at him for a beat before replying. “I don’t really know yet. I haven’t heard anything.”

“Gotcha,” he replies, pushing out his chair as he carries the scraps of his breakfast to the trash, talking as he goes. “Well, I can talk to Eddie, see when it should be ready so we can pick it up.”

The sudden mention of Eddie’s name has your nerves spiking sharply, adrenaline building up inside your chest as your palms go sweaty. Like the rising urgency of knowing you’re going to vomit, the words push at your clamped lips, wanting out. You need to tell him. You need to tell him now, and Steve is just wandering around the kitchen, talking about the Amazon return he plans to drop off at FedEx today. “You know,” he’s saying, “I really did think we already had an immersion blender, but I wasn’t sure, and it turns out it was in the back of the linen closet. I found it when I was putting away the towels you folded. Like, how’d it even end up back there—?”

“Steve.” You don't speak loudly, but he stops on the other side of the island and looks right at you, eyebrows perking as if he’s been startled to attention. You hold his gaze, saying slowly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

The obvious gravity in your voice makes something flash across his handsome face, a microexpression too quick for you to discern. Wordlessly, he walks around the island to sit in the chair at the head of the kitchen table to your right. A little prickle of anxiety bursts behind your sternum as his hazel eyes dart between yours. He's cautious, a little guarded. “...Okay.” Steve throws his hands low and wide, then clasps them in his lap. It reminds you of something a boss would do with his employee— sitting beside you, body angled in your direction, hands clasped low to convey a willingness to listen.

Your chest prickles again now that you have Steve’s full attention, and the prickle quickly spreads to a chilling freeze that frosts across your ribs. The words you practiced and the words you don’t want to say whip around your head in a maelstrom, and your fists clench as you fight against your sudden overwhelm. Steve looks wary but sympathetic as he watches you for a moment before saying your name quietly. “It’s okay.” Steve’s voice is smooth and reassuring, and he reaches out to squeeze your hands in one broad palm. “Just take your time.”

The kindness almost makes it more difficult, but you suck in a slow bracing breath, nodding so he’ll sit back and release you. You hold at the top of the breath for a moment, steeling yourself before you blow it out slowly, unable to keep it from trembling near the end. Finally, with a dry swallow, you crack your lips to speak.

“Things have… started to change for me over the past few months. The way I feel about— about us?” Stuttering, tentative, the ‘us’ bends up like a question, and you clear your throat to reset your voice. To be straightforward, the way you want to be. When you start again, you succeed in sounding more certain. “These past three years have been good, Steve, but… I think for me something has been missing. Something that I didn’t realize was missing until recently. And it took me some time to figure out what it was, but I think I know now. And I can’t… I just can’t ignore it. That’s not fair to either of us.”

There’s a pregnant pause as Steve stares at you, face a blank mask. His bangs curl over his eye, but you don’t feel the impulse to push them back for him; your fingers don’t even twitch.

As you speak again, your eyes dart to the tabletop. “I think—”

Abruptly, you cut off, shaking your head. No hedging now. You start again, more firmly, lifting your head to maintain direct eye contact with your boyfriend. Direct, but not unkind, not devoid of feeling. “We need to break up, Steve.”

The mask of his blankness slips then, just slightly. As you sit in silence, your words hanging between the two of you, Steve’s hazel dulls to briny mud.

“Why?”

Your brow crinkles, and your eyes go wide, darting between his. You thought you’d explained it pretty well. A little vaguely, maybe, but still. Does he really not understand?

Almost as you think that, Steve huffs an incredulous breath. His mask cracks further— his face goes wry, exasperated that you don’t seem to be getting it. “I know why,” he adds quietly as if it’s obvious. “I just want to hear you say it.”

It had taken so much just to say what you already did. What more does he want? When you’re silent, freeze crackling over your ribs as your wide eyes flit helplessly around his face, Steve’s square jaw tightens. “Tell me why you want to break up with me,” he says. It’s not loud or angry, but it’s a demand nonetheless. “I want the truth, y/n.” His chin tips down, gaze dropping to his hands as he finally mutters, “Just go ahead and say his name.”

The sorrow rises up your throat, nearly choking your words. But you knew this might happen; you’d been prepared for it. Steve wants the truth, and he deserves it. Your lips twist, eyes stinging as you prepare to oblige his request. You don’t want to whisper, but it’s all that will come out. “...I have feelings for Eddie.”

“And there it is,” he says, and it nearly echoes off the kitchen walls even though he isn’t shouting. Steve’s voice is like a fanciful flourish— brash, as if he’s figured out the murderer in a game of Clue. But it’s not an exclamation of triumph. It’s an exclamation of bitter, defeated confirmation.

After a pause, his eyes return to yours. Still dull but unflinching as he asks you a question you know must gut him. “Do you love him?”

Your chin trembles, but you admire Steve’s fortitude and match it with your own. “Maybe. I think I might,” you whisper honestly.

Steve lets quiet reign for a moment as you watch his face, teeth worrying your lip, stomach twisting as the heavy, oppressive tension in the room weighs on you. And then he grins wryly, small and crooked, ugly like a jagged scar. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Kind of saw it coming.”

You’re baffled; your questions pop out before you can stop them, tinged with distress. "What? Steve, why didn't you say anything?"

His jaw works for a moment, dark brows knit tight as his knee starts bouncing in a very non-Steve expression of tension. When he glances at you, he looks sardonic but also pained. "I learned a long time ago that accusing people of doing something behind your back… it tends to backfire. Push them away more. So I thought, maybe if I do the opposite of that—"

He breaks off to chuckle humorlessly, shaking his head. Abruptly, he rises from the chair, and you flinch away slightly, taken aback. The look he shoots you conveys his hurt that you’d jerk away from him, and you suddenly feel more terrible for it. He slowly crosses the kitchen into the living room, staring down at the coffee table for a moment before picking up the box of tissues there. Plodding steps carry him back to you, but Steve sinks back into his spot from breakfast— across from you, with the table in between. Steve places the tissue box carefully between you, and you can nearly see his clothed chest straight through the thin paper as you stare at it.

You turn Steve’s reasoning over in your mouth, examining it slowly to test its flavor. His explanation— that he’d essentially ignored the situation and hoped it would go away instead of accusing you of doing something— falls within this false choice between sweet and bitter. He seems to have forgotten, or perhaps not realized, that he could have simply talked to you. He could have discussed these things with you calmly rather than dancing around them. And if he had, who knows what would’ve happened?

For a moment, you consider the question. But only for the briefest moment, because what Steve could have done differently doesn’t matter now.

You and Steve sit quietly for a while, each staring at a different spot in the room. You stare at the thin tissue poking from the tissue box while Steve stares at the window drapery behind you, which almost makes it seem like he’s gazing through you when you finally look up at his face again. You look at him because another question is pressing up your throat, itching to be let out; a question that, while it's about the past, is prodding at you far more deeply than thoughts of what could have been.

“Why did we do this, Steve?” Steve’s hazel eyes shift minutely, refocusing on your face. “Swing with Eddie and Chrissy,” you clarify, voice quiet.

There’s another minute shift on his face, but this time, it’s a tick in his jaw, a flash of flared nostrils. “I told you,” he starts to say, voice carefully calm, “it’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

You blink, staring at your boyfriend patiently. As he sits with the weight of your expectant gaze, you begin to see little signs of tension, like how he scratches briefly at the scruff on his jaw before his hand falls back into his lap. Something tells you this is an opening, an opportunity for clarity, and if you’re careful, you can take it.

Maybe, as you’re breaking up, you can finally get Steve to tell you what he’s really thinking.

Entirely without venom, you ask, “What about Nancy?”

Steve looks at you sharply, hawkishly; his face tightens, and there’s an uncharacteristic edge to his voice when he retorts. “What do you know about Nancy?” His suspicion and mistrust are clear, making that edge of anxiety prickle in your chest.

You inhale through your nose, continuing in your careful, gentle way. “Not much, really. Just that you’d dated in high school, and… it wasn’t a good break up.” You look at him carefully, brows tugged up in a coaxing expression. When he doesn’t shutter further, you venture to ask quietly, “Was your fantasy related to that?”

Tension radiates off Steve in a thick wave as he looks away. His broad shoulders are rigid with it, jaw clenched tight as he seems to struggle with himself for a long moment. And you think maybe that anger you suspect is inside him— the anger you’ve seen in little glimpses, such as when he’d lashed out at Eddie for breaking the rules, most recently obscured by an eerie mask of impassivity— may come finally bursting out of Steve in a wave of bitter rage. You hold your breath as you wait, palms sweating, heart stuttering in your chest—

But eventually, Steve sags, scoffing and shaking his head in resignation. His reply is a half-hearted snap, weary in its bluntness. “Might as well bare my fucking soul, right? I mean, we’ve literally fucked other people in front of each other. What’s one more hard truth?”

The words make foreboding rush down your spine, and beneath the table, you fist your fingers until the knuckles turn pale. But outwardly, you hold fast. Despite the apprehension you feel, now that you can nearly taste it— Steve’s elusive openness— you don’t want to scare him off.

Steve drags both hands through his hair, letting his head hang back as he stares dully at the ceiling. “She cheated on me with this… weird kid. Jonathan. Artsy type. Liked to take photos.” You scarcely dare to breathe. It’s finally happening.

When he pauses, eyes flicking to you, you stay quiet, looking at him with an open expression. Patient. Accepting. It seems to do the trick because he rubs absently at his chest, eventually admitting, “We started arguing a lot when I went to college and she was in her senior year of high school. Really, let’s be honest: I’d start fighting with her, not the other way around. It was all just stupid shit, you know? Like accusing her of turning off her location, or lying about who she was with, like….” He chuckles despairingly, shaking his head. “Why did I do that?”

It’s hard to see Steve like this: years later, still so tortured by his own actions. Your brow crinkles; your heart pierces for him. “Steve—”

He continues as if he didn’t hear you, but not cruelly. He’s just gripped by the interminable flow of his emotion, like now that he’d let some of it dribble out, it won’t stop pouring from him. “I guess I just… I loved her so much, and I was so afraid that without me there, she was gonna forget about me. She was so smart. Just… so, so smart. And…” Your eyes are rapt on him as his jaw works until he mutters resignedly, “Wasn’t ‘til I started acting like a fuckin’ psycho that. Well.”

Steve clears his throat, sighing heavily. The apprehension you’d felt has melted almost entirely into poignant sorrow for him, sympathy that blooms bittersweet at the base of your throat. You nearly want to reach for him— squeeze his hand, offer some comfort— but you hold back. Though you may feel compassion for him, you don’t want to send mixed signals. As much as it explains some things about Steve’s behavior, clarifying why he’d chosen to remain silent despite almost certainly noticing whatever was growing between you and Eddie over the last few months, the pain of Steve’s past doesn’t change the present.

Eventually, the active contortions of pain on Steve’s face settle to vague disquiet. He glances at you and then back to the table, flashing hazel eyes still dull like briny mud as he hesitates. You can sense the shift before he begins to talk again, the change in energy that tells you what he’s about to say is, somehow, both easier and harder than what has already been said. Your heart kicks up in anticipation.

Quietly, Steve speaks to the kitchen table. “I can’t really pinpoint one specific moment that gave me the idea. I mean, Chris has always been sweet. And, I dunno. Always thought she was pretty, too.” He tosses the observation casually. “But we never went out. I was with Nance, and then she was with Eddie, so….” His adam’s apple bobs in a swallow as he glances up, holding your gaze for the first time in a long while. “But then you told me you liked the idea of being with two guys at once, and I just… I guess I started thinking about it a little more. What it’d be like to be with two girls at once, too.”

And it’s like he’s waiting for you to give him some sign of approval or acceptance. And you do understand his curiosity, how your drunken confession had awakened something in him. So you offer him a tiny nod, and only then do his eyes slide away from you to dart around the room. “And so just, like, as a joke, I brought it up in front of Chris one day. I wasn’t expecting her to actually be interested, but… she was. And what started as something totally hypothetical became suddenly possible when Eddie agreed, and then… well, you know the rest.”

You nod thoughtfully. You also understand the wondering, how something that began as a joke became something more. But then Steve sighs harshly, shrugs sharply, and looks right at you.

“You want me to be real honest?”

That foreboding resurges, racing again down your spine as you suck in a shaky breath. This is the most open Steve has ever been with you, except, perhaps, when he’d told you about his parents. But the ache of his parents’ absence didn’t hold the same weight as all of this, because Steve hadn’t been the cause of it. None of it had come from him. And you’re a little afraid of what Steve is going to say— of how grave his stare is, hazel sharpened to desperate points that even the softness of his long bangs can’t allay— but you want to know.

You nod, sealing your fate.

Steve searches your expression for a moment as if waiting for you to waver. But when you don’t, the words fall from his lips. They are jagged, stilted, not intended to cut, but utterly sharp in their plainness. “I guess some fucked up part of me thought that like… if I let my girlfriend fuck another guy— if I wanted her to do it— it would heal the wound. Since it was my choice this time.” He laughs wryly at himself. “And Chrissy’s hot. So I got to have sex with two hot girls, too. I mean, what guy doesn’t want to have sex with two hot girls?”

His expression is creased with bitter resignation, but it isn’t a balm. Neither is his tacked-on observation as he mutters, “Kind of perverse, now that I’m saying it out loud.”

And it’s like when Chrissy sat beside you in the salon chair, sucking all the air from the room, holding the pillow to your face. But Steve isn’t smothering you. No, he’s cutting you, carving the truth deep, and your ribs tremble as his words nick bone.

It almost would’ve been better if Steve had said he’d just always had a crush on Chrissy since high school. Or that he got off on being cucked. Or that he’d always been curious about Eddie, and maybe he’d discovered he’s bisexual. But to know that, in the end, you were a device Steve had used to try to get over the pain of his ex-girlfriend leaving him for another guy…

You were a bandaid stuck over the gaping wound Nancy had gashed in Steve Harrington’s heart. And no matter what the reason— because he’d loved her so deeply, because he’d been betrayed, because he felt such shame at having, in his mind, pushed her into Jonathan’s arms— it didn’t change the fact that three years of your love and devotion hadn’t managed to stitch him up. Now, you were both paying the price.

Steve seems to be waiting for you to respond; you manage a wholly inadequate response. “Yeah,” you finally croak. “It kind of is.”

His lips tighten in the semblance of a smile. It’s the smile of someone who knows he’s getting more than he deserves. “Why did you do it?”

You follow Steve’s precedent and choose honesty again. After the admissions he’s laid bare for you, it’s easier; the words flow quicker from your tongue. “Because I thought it would make you happy,” you say, and the instant pain that crumples his face nearly makes you look away. “But, also,” you have to add, “because….” This part is harder to admit, but you do it anyway. “There was just something about him.”

Despite himself, a corner of Steve’s lips quirks in a tiny, genuine grin. “From the first moment you saw him, right?”

You sigh through your nose. “Yeah,” you agree, voice small, tender with the taste of your red fruit.

“Yeah,” Steve says, resigned. “That’s Eddie. The bastard.” It’s half fond, half wry, and it reminds you that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson have been friends for five years. They’ve been friends for longer than you’ve even known Steve; they share a kinship despite their differences. But the threads that tie them… you aren’t sure they can withstand this.

You chew your lip as the tinge of humor fades from Steve’s face, leaving it suddenly tired and sagging from the effort of providing his admissions and hearing yours. Eventually, he asks, “So what are you gonna do about him?”

You sigh heavily, fingering a loose thread on your sweater. “I’m not sure. But I’m gonna tell him we ended things, and… I think I need to be honest with him about how I feel.”

Steve just nods, jaw tight. “They’ll probably break up. Him and Chrissy,” he predicts. The implication that it’ll be your fault is clear, and your lips twist as a drop of thick, viscous guilt drips from the ribs Steve has nicked, falling onto the dark earth at the bottom of you.

You press on to distract yourself from it, asking neutrally, “If they do, are you gonna keep seeing Chrissy?”

Steve leans an elbow on the kitchen table. “If she wants to. She might. We had a good time together. Have a lot in common.”

The casualness of his response dispels some of the tension inside you. Suddenly, this feels surreally like a normal conversation, and you find yourself nodding. "I think that could be really good."

Steve’s face darkens for the first time, and he chuckles mirthlessly. "Of course you do,” he spits. “‘Cause then it means you can have Eddie. And you can convince yourself you don't have to feel bad about what you've done."

That's not how you meant it, and on some level, you know that Steve is lashing out in his hurt. He may have been the impetus for this situation, but that doesn’t mean he's emerging unscathed. It doesn’t mean he didn’t love you in his damaged way; it doesn’t mean he isn’t filled with pain as he loses you.

Your regret is clear. “Steve, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Steve’s eyes scan you, and what he sees seems to soften him. You see it then— heartbreak, spreading over his face as his hazel eyes go fragile. “I know you didn’t. That doesn’t change the fact that it did. Though I guess I have to blame myself just as much as you.”

A sense of numbness settles over you; there’s nothing you can say to that without feeding Steve falsehoods. When you don’t respond, he adds quietly, “Just kinda sucks for Chris, is all. You know?”

Steve is looking at you, and you feel your head jerking up and down, as if by its own accord. The numbness and detachment mute the next few drops of sticky guilt that splatter dark earth.

The long silence that settles between you and Steve now is no longer loaded. It’s blank and hollow, like the final glance into a childhood bedroom. Light from a bare window spills across the carpet, where indents of furniture that had once been there still press the fibers flat. Dust hangs suspended in the air, visible in the sun, kicked up in the process of emptying. What remains when two people who once loved one another— who’d inflicted hurt and been cut just as deeply— have laid themselves bare and accepted that it’s over?

Logistics, you suppose.

“Where are you gonna go?”

You’d anticipated this question. You already hadn’t wanted to stay in this apartment any longer than you had to, but now after what Steve has revealed, the thought of leaving today is even more appealing. The quicker, the better. You’d thought of your older sister’s condo last night; she lives right outside the city, closer to your job than Steve’s apartment, even, so that’s an added bonus. You haven’t talked to her yet, but you tell Steve with certainty, “Penny’ll let me stay with her. She has a spare room she uses as an office.”

“All right,” he replies. “You can have the weekend to move most of your stuff over.”

“Okay,” you accept without hesitation. It seems you and Steve are finally on the same page in that you both find the idea of drawing out this process unbearable.

After a moment, his brow tugs up slightly. “...I can help you,” Steve says, offering you one last act of generosity.

You echo yourself. “Okay,” you say, and it comes out gentle.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment you share with your boyfriend of three years, Steve Harrington. You run your eyes over Steve’s familiar features, and he is handsome. His nose is alkaline, his brows are thick and dark, and his jaw is strong, dusted by stubble. Steve Harrington works at a bank and makes a lot of money. His ex-girlfriend, Nancy, broke his heart. He is athletic, and he loves basketball. You’ve heard he’s been happier than he’d been in years since you started dating him. You lost your virginity to him. He suggested you swing because he wanted his friend to fuck you just as much as he wished Nancy had never fucked Jonathan. He’s the first boy you’d ever loved. You don’t love him anymore.

You know, despite everything— despite the position he’d put you both in— underneath it all, Steve really is just a man. A man who is damaged and trying to heal. A man who is trying to be good.

But Steve Harrington is not your man. Not anymore.

–

The practical coordination of leaving your ex-boyfriend consumes you, and you happily let it.

Penny, in her usual way, tumbles directly into big sister mode when you call her to explain that you’ve broken up with Steve and need somewhere to stay. Her shock gets foisted to the back burner as she asks you a series of questions. ‘How bad?’ ‘Bad.’ ‘When do you want to move in?’ ‘Today.’ ‘Need help packing?’ ‘Well, if you’re offering, yes.’ ‘Should I bring a shovel?’ You stifle a snort. ‘...No,’ you answer, and you can hear the smirk in her voice over the phone. ‘You sure?’

Before you’d spoken to Penny, you figured you'd just take what was necessary for now— a good chunk of your clothes, toiletries, your Nintendo Switch, and all the essential electronics like your laptop and earbuds. But when Penny marches through the door lugging trash bags and a gigantic suitcase— sans shovel— and shoots Steve a cursory nod before rolling up her sleeves and getting to work, her assistance is both a relief and a blessing. You and Penny scrub every inch of Steve’s apartment of your belongings— all your clothing, shoes, jewelry, makeup, books, and even the decor you’d bought. You leave behind the joint remnants of your relationship for him to deal with: photos of you together, mementos collected over the years, and little gifts exchanged for birthdays and anniversaries. For practical reasons, of course, but you can’t deny that leaving all of that behind and packing the rest of your life into Penny’s car feels like your soul is unshouldering a burden.

After the last bag is loaded, you face Steve on the apartment's threshold for the final time. What goodbye is appropriate between a girl who’d lost her love for a guy as she’d fallen for his friend, and a guy who’d wanted a girl to heal his wounded heart so desperately that he ended up pushing her into his friend’s arms?

There are no more words. You both settle for parting smiles burdened with loss, and that is that.

–

The weekend passes quickly as you and your sister mash your life with hers. It reminds you uncannily of when you were kids as you stand in the doorway of her bedroom-turned-office, negotiating the space.

“I need a closet, Pen.”

“I can give you half the hanging space and one of the shelves,” she counters.

“Fine,” you relent. “But the desk goes. I gotta fit a bed in here.”

She sighs heavily, already mourning the loss of the bright window it faces. “But where am I gonna put it?” she grumbles, but one glance at your face has her softening quickly. “You gonna ask mom and dad for your old bed?”

Your lips tilt half-heartedly. Your sister’s easy concession reminds you of the hole where three years had been. She’s treating you as if you’re fragile, and you suppose, in a way, you are. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Kinda sucks that it’s a twin.”

She elbows you, grinning. “Hey, you can pretend you’re young and back in college again.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her back. “Bitch,” you retort, but the tilt of your smile stretches genuinely.

There’s barely any downtime before Sunday night; you don’t allow for it. You’re resolved not to let your belongings languish in trash bags and suitcases, and you set to work immediately converting Penny’s office back into a bedroom. After sleeping the night on Penny’s couch, you spend Sunday morning dragging around her furniture until it’s arranged to your liking. Then you consolidate her belongings and carefully sort yours into the spaces you’d meticulously cleared, blasting your music as you work to keep your brain busy. You found yourself listening to one song in particular over and over: Liberation by Buzz.

There’s just something about that vocoder that does it for you.

Your parents arrive in the early afternoon, and you and Penny help your dad maneuver the bedframe and mattress into your new room. Your mom insists on helping you remake the bed; her fluttering hands tuck hospital corners as she shoots you little sympathetic smiles. You know they want to ask you what happened, but you put them off, citing a need to unwind after the stress of the past two days. They accept your excuses immediately, and each offers comfort in their own way— soft words of condolence and a soft hand on your cheek from your mom, plus a lingering bear hug from your dad.

“We’re here for you no matter what. Whatever you need. Okay?” he says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully as he claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight is a comfort.

“Thank you,” you say, and they leave their girls to explore how it feels to live together again.

Mercifully, Penny notices the weary droop of your shoulders and lets you nap on the couch for a while. But once the take-out arrives for dinner and you see the curious gleam in her eye, you heave a sigh, mentally preparing for the explanation you know she’s dying for. Truthfully, you’re grateful she’d managed to hold out for this long.

You tell her an abbreviated version of the story, minus the whole swapping partners and fucking each other part. Which, admittedly, is probably seventy percent of it, but submitting yourself to your sister’s critique over engaging in alternative sexual practices feels overwhelming when you’re already raw and hurting from Steve’s confessions and the sudden upheaval of your life. You don’t go into great detail, but Penny listens as you explain meeting Eddie for the first time, growing closer to him and his girlfriend, and developing feelings for him, feelings that led to you realizing that parts of your relationship with Steve have always been lacking. You emphasize that you aren’t breaking up with Steve just to be with Eddie, but your concern that she may judge you is unfounded. Instead, your sister wraps you in the plush of her throw blanket, cuddling you close and petting your hair as she puts on one of your favorite movies from childhood: The Princess Bride. Your ribs may be aching from the nicks of Steve’s jagged words as you finally slow down and let the numbness wear off, but Penny’s solace soothes the sting.

Your late afternoon nap ends up being a double-edged sword. By the time you and Penny each turn in for the night to prepare for the upcoming work week, you’re no longer exhausted enough to fall right asleep. With your room already arranged and Penny sleeping across the hall, you’re running low on distractions and left to ruminate.

And with rumination come feelings.

That ache in your ribs, the sinking sorrow, the void inside that begins to feel more and more like a chasm than an empty room— they crawl up to settle like a thick lump in your throat, and your eyelashes quiver until tears that sting like sea salt soak silently into your pillow.

You let yourself mourn your relationship with Steve— the loss of three years’ worth of familiarity and comfort, the unnoticed lack that had always been there, lurking underneath the surface. The tears are a release, the first step toward healing. And most importantly, despite the sadness, there is a notable absence of one emotion.

You feel no regret.

As the tears wane, your mind shifts focus from the past to the future. Tentatively, you imagine telling Eddie you’d broken up with Steve, and the sudden surge of sweeping emotions is enough to overwhelm you almost instantly. Maybe I should take the night off. This weekend has been hard enough already. You roll over, arm outstretching toward your bedside table for your phone, and you automatically pull up Instagram to distract you from the squirms and flutters radiating through your body.

And it just so happens that the first photo is a picture of strawberry blonde waves, bright blue eyes, and a powdery-soft smile.

Chrissy.

What possesses you to click into her profile, you don’t know. Maybe it’s a yearning for the comfort you’d felt when she’d held your hand on the plane. Or perhaps it’s some unconscious desire for punishment, like taking a too-hot shower that nearly scalds your skin— you think you’re doing it because it feels good, but in reality, the sting is nothing but self-harm. Your eyes scan porcelain limbs twisted into flexible poses on a mat; charming crooked-toothed grins squished against other feminine cheeks in happy rows of lithe, beautiful strangers; and then a photo of four familiar figures that makes your heart thump: a bright orange bodycon dress, smart light blue linen, a white-button up that flashes dark ink, and milk and honey silk, all standing outside the neon lights of a Miami nightclub. Your eyes linger on tousled brown waves and a bright white smile.

From the sorrow and the void, despair rises within you. But it isn’t the hound that had grappled with your hope in Eddie's van. No, now it’s scraggly and mangy— a desperate, starving thing, tinged with anger. Steve could've talked to you, talked about what he’d been through to someone, anyone: a friend, a therapist. Hell, he could’ve tried to talk to Nancy herself. But he didn't. He didn’t take responsibility for his feelings or his wound. Instead, he manipulated you into a situation with an ulterior motive. He tried to use you to help himself, and he didn’t think about how it would hurt you.

Selfish.

As your anger builds, it redirects toward Chrissy. You swipe through her posts, scowl growing as you’re confronted with her smiling face over and over until you pause on one. It's a photo of an aggressively-sleek electric guitar, shining red and slung around Chrissy’s body. Her hip is cocked with attitude, dainty fingers thrown high in a 'rock on' gesture, face scrunched with her tongue poking out. A sudden thought snarls. Here she is, putting on a mask for her followers, pretending she’s some heavy metal chick. She doesn’t even really like Eddie’s music. She doesn’t even go to any of his fucking shows. Acrid and bitter, the tang of jealousy is heavy on your tongue.

You indulge it for a moment, letting it burn like poison through your veins until you remind yourself that Chrissy has always been kind to you. In the months you’ve known her, she’s helped you become more confident, encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone but never pushing too hard, never judging. She’s offered you eager giggles and cuddles and warm companionship. Chrissy has always built you up, and any bitter feelings you have toward her have been borne of covetousness.

Despair snaps its maw. The whites of its eyes roll; it whines as oozing guilt sucks at its paws deep into the muck. You imagine the look on Chrissy’s saccharine face when she finds out you’d snuck around behind her back— kissed Eddie in the club, fucked him in his van. Told him you wanted all of him. You imagine her dreams of boy or girl crumbling to dust in her dainty fingers. And then, you remember what your ex-boyfriend said. ‘I just feel bad for Chris.’

The injury you know you will inflict upon your friend conjures a haunting question:

Am I really any better than Steve?

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington

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lulublack90 · 3 months

Text

Prompt 20 - Lethal

@jegulus-microfic January 20 Word count 642

I think this one is going to be a few parts. I'll link the parts together so they're easy to find.

“Party? Party? Party?” Marlene asked, pointing at her friends, who were already drinking around the table in their local pub. It did not take much persuading for the others to agree to call everyone they knew and start a party back at James’s.

“Can Reggie come?” Sirius asked. “He doesn’t have many friends, and I don’t think he’s left the house for a week.”

“As long as he doesn’t bring the party down,” Mary replied, sticking her tongue out at Sirius when he stuck his out at her.

“We need to go get some booze in and food, guys, or else the party will be a bust,” Lily told them all. Downing her drink as she stood up.

Thirty minutes later, the group was shoving bags of shopping into the back of James’s mum’s old minivan. They had left Sirius sprawled across the back seat with all their phones, texting as many people as he could.

“Budge up,” Remus said, giving Sirius less than a second to move, before lifting his legs into the air and sliding into the seat. He dropped Sirius's legs ungraciously. Sirius nearly fell on the floor.

“Hey, rude!” Sirius squawked at Remus, his bottom lip pushing out into a sulky pout. He didn’t have time to complain before Mary shoved him off the other seat so she could sit down.

“Okay, guys, let’s go!” James cried out jovially before twisting the key in the ignition. The minivan choked to life. He pressed his foot down and he sped away, causing Sirius to actually fall off the backseat and into the footwell. Remus dragged him up by the scruff of his neck and wound his seatbelt around him.

“Buckle up, dumbass.” He growled.

“Sorry about that,” James apologised over his shoulder as he pulled out of the car park and onto the main road.

“No worries, mate. Could we swing by mine so I can grab Reggie? I think if I don’t literally drag him there myself, he won’t come.

James hit the curb more forcefully than was probably good for his mother’s poor old van. Sirius jumped out and ran into the grand Georgian house he’d inherited when his parents had died. Two minutes later, he was dragging his brother down the front steps. Regulus was putting up quite a fight. Sirius pulled hard at him, almost yanking his hoodie from his body. Eventually, he bundled his brother into the back of the van and yelled at James to go, go, go!

Regulus wasn’t happy. He glowered at the car’s worn carpet, not saying a word.

At the next red traffic light, James turned as far as his seatbelt would allow him to and grinned broadly at Regulus.

“How’s it going, Reg?” He asked. Regulus looked up at him, scowling.

“That good, huh?” James laughed as he ruffled Regulus’s short curls. Regulus yanked his head away, pulled his hood up and crossed his arms across his chest.

“James, green light,” Lily said as she jabbed James in the arm, forcing him to pay attention.

They got to James’s and had to hurry to set everything up. Sirius and Remus sorted out the music, bickering over which songs to put on the playlist. Lily and Mary put food into bowls and onto plates. James set out the bottles of alcohol and mixers on the kitchen counter. While Marlene was doing what Marlene does best and creating a truly lethal punch. James looked at the concoction warily. Deciding, there and then, it would probably be best if he stayed clear of Marlene’s punch.

Regulus leant against the wall near the French windows, refusing to help with anything. He had his phone out and was endlessly scrolling. James was just about to go over to him and try to chat when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of their guests.

Next part

#January 20 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #mary macdonald #bob marley #marlene mckinnon #james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #james x regulus #regulus x james #regulus and james #lethal #james that poor van #marlene the liquor queen

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fandomanimatic-tournament · 8 months

Text

The Bracket is Finally Here!

Spotify playlist with (almost) all songs in the tournament

Remember you can leave propaganda for any of these songs in the ask box both before and during the polls

(The image kinda smushed it all together but there's a written version at the bottom)

Written matches under the cut:

(Parenthesis on the song title: Additions to the title or other titles commonly used for the song in animations and animatics) ([blank]: a placeholder for a word that might variate in the title according to the animatic, usually a character's name)

Bracket 1, Side A:

You'll be back - Hamilton Musical VS. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Set it Off

I cut myself (shaving) - Talkshow Boy VS. Curses - The Crane Wives

Kiss Me, Son of God - They Might Be Giants VS. Open Up Your Eyes - My Little Pony: friendship is magic

Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay VS. Ready as I'll ever be - Tangled the series

Sincerely, Me - Dear Evan Hansen Musical VS. Promiseland - MIKA

Wine Red - The Hush Sound VS. Once Upon a December - Anastasia (Movie)

Everything at Once - Lenka VS. Little Miss Perfect - Written by Joriah Kwamé

Good for you - Dear Evan Hansen Musical VS. Never love an Anchor - The Crane Wives

Cupid - Jack Stauber VS. The other side - The Greatest Showman Musical

Eight Wonder - Lemon Demon VS. How bad can I be? - The Lorax (Movie)

Just Take My Wallet - Jack Stauber VS. Blue Lips - Regina Spektor

Baby Hotline - Jack Stauber VS. Tongues and Teeth - The Crane Wives

Poison - Cavetown VS. I'm the Bad Guy - Wonder Over Yonder / Caleb Hyles cover

Partners in Crime - Set It Off VS. It's tough to be a God - The Road to El Dorado (Movie)

Are You Satisfied? - MARINA VS. Brave as a Noun - AJJ The Band

Me, you and Steve - Garfunkel and Oates VS. Oh No! - MARINA

Bracket 1, Side B:

It took me by Surprise - Maria Mena VS. Father - The Front Bottoms

Hayloft - Mother Mother VS. When You're Evil - Voltaire

I Know I'm a Wolf - Young Heretics VS. Ordinary - Written by Joriah Kwamé

Anything you can do - Annie Get Your Gun Musical VS. Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham

Christmas Kids - Roar VS. I Know Those Eyes / This Man is Dead - Thomas Borchert

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid VS. Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Turn the Lights off - Tally Hall VS. Boys will be Bugs - Cavetown

Ghosting - Mother Mother VS. Villain - Stella Jang

Defying Gravity - Wicked Musical VS. Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

Crossing the Line - Tangled the Series VS. Runs in the Family - Amanda Palmer

Everybody Talks - Neon Trees VS. Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

Saint Bernard - Lincoln VS. Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

The History of Wrong Guys - Kinky Boots Musical VS. Order Made ([blank]'s Order Made) - RADWIMPS

Charlie's Inferno ([blank]'s Inferno) - That Handsome Devil VS. Lemon Boy - Cavetown

Ultimately - Khai Dreams VS. Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko

The Zombie Song - Stephanie Mabey VS. When He Sees Me - Waitress Musical

Bracket 2, Side A:

Interlude IV - Zach Callison VS. Honey, I'm Home - GHOST

Little Lion Man (Not your fault) - Mumford & Sons VS. Confrontation - Jekyll and Hyde, the Gothic Musical Thriller

The Other Side of Paradise - Glass Animals VS. I Won't Say (I'm in Love) - Disney's Hercules

El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes - Jeanette VS. Feelings are Fatal - Mxmtoon

The Religion of Loneliness (Lonely Religion) - Syudou VS. Ikanaide - Soraru and Mafumafu

The Killing Kind - Marianas Trench VS. Touch-Tone Telephone - Lemon Demon

A Good Song Never Dies - Saint Motel VS. Achilles Come Down - Gang Of Youths

If you were gay - Avenue Q Musical VS. My R ([Blank]'s R) - KurageP / cover by Rachie

Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng VS. No Children (I hope we both die) - The Mountain Goats

I can't decide ([Blank] can't decide) - Scissor Sisters VS. OO is a receiver ([Blank] is a receiver) - Ura Commander-P

A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers VS. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring

Dr Sunshine is Dead - Will Wood and the Tapeworms VS. A Crow's Trial (A [blank]'s Trial) - Vane

The Riddle - Scarlett Pimpernel Musical VS. Crush - Tessa Violet

Be Nice To Me - The Front Bottoms VS. My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel VS. I do adore - Mindy Gledhill

I wish you liked girls - Abbey Glover / I wish you liked boys - Cover by Jasper Isaac VS. Like Real People Do - Hozier

Bracket 2, Side B:

Stronger Than You - Steven Universe VS. Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie

Emperor's New Clothes - Panic! at the Disco VS. Butch 4 Butch (Sweetheart's Piano) - Rio Romero

Two Birds - Regina Spektor VS. Amnesia Was Her Name - Lemon Demon

Love Like You - Steven Universe VS. Escapism - Steven Universe

Everything Stays - Adventure Time VS. This day Aria - My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

My Whole Family ([blank]'s Whole Family think they're gay) - Bo Burnham VS. Popular - Wicked Musical

The Bro Duet - Written by Alexander Sage Oyen VS. Cabinet Man - Lemon Demon

Self-inflicted Achromatic - Nekobolo VS. Welcome To The Internet - Bo Burnham

The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives VS. Dream Sweet in Sea Major - Miracle Musical

What is This Feeling? - Wicked Musical VS. There! Right there! (Is [blank] Gay or European?) - Legally Blonde the Musical

Goodbye (Look who's inside again) - Bo Burnham VS. This is Home - Cavetown

Pad Thai - Jack Stauber VS. How Far We've Come - Matchbox 20

The Mind Electric - Miracle Musical VS. The Nowhere King - Centaurworld

Rät - Penelope Scott VS. Therefore You and Me - TadanoCo / E ve cover

Fish in a Birdcage - Fish in a Birdcage VS. Devil's Train - The Lab Rats

The Game of Life - Yuzuhico VS. Dust and Ashes - Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 Musical

#please correct me if there's any mistakes!!#fandom animatic tournament #tournament info #tumblr tournament #tumblr tourney #tumblr poll #bracket tournament

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uhmprobablynot · 9 months

Text

The Playlist: Track Two

hi im back :)

Track One > Track Two > Track Three

Drive All Night

The events of what happened in the kitchen replay in your mind. Did you really just do that? Schlatt pants slightly, looking down at you. He tucks himself back into his sweatpants and offers you a hand.

"We should get you home, yeah?” Schlatt beams, helping you off the floor. His hands rest on your waist and rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter closed at the proximity. “Come on, sweetheart.” He taps your hip lightly and guides you towards the door.

You both exit his house and walk to his car. He moves to your side of the car, opening your door before you have the chance to. You smile up at him and send him a light ‘thank you’ as he closes the door behind you.

He starts the car and backs out of his driveway with practiced ease, but everything he does seems ethereal in the moment. The light glow of blue from his car’s LED display and the smile that gets wider every time he looks over at you. You feel your heart flutter, and he puts a hand on your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb. His car radio is playing a softly in the background. I wanna drive all night, I wanna be alone with you, Follow the moonlight

“Schlatt?” You whisper, he hums in response. “What if we kept driving for a bit? I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“Yeah?” He smirks. You smile at him and it turns into a full laugh as he makes a too sharp turn on to a random road.

“Where are we going?” You say between laughs.

“I dont know,” He says, joining in on your laughter. “I’m just driving.”

The two of you keep turning down random roads. Him asking you at each stop which direction to go in. “Straight, left, or right?” You hum in contemplation.

“Left!”

“Aye aye captain,” He says before moving the car left through the intersection.

Most of the streets are residential and dark. Yet, the lights in the car make it just bright enough that the two of you can see the wide smiles plastered on each other’s faces.

Time seemed frozen as Schlatt drove, the two of you two lost in each other’s company to fell the minutes ticking away. It seemed the further he drove, the more reality felt left behind, leaving only the car, Schlatt, and you in a bubble of fantasy. As if nothing but you two - and this moment - mattered.

The laughter died down and only the soft music from his radio remained. It was during this moment that you could feel the weight of Schlatt’s presence next to you - his warmth radiating through the car’s interior.

“Why YouTube?” You asked suddenly. He looked over at you and your heart skipped a beat. He simply shrugged.

“Easy money,” He joked, followed by a dry and hollow laugh. You stared at him, knowing there was more to it than that. Schlatt sighed. “I grew up watching those old Youtubers, the originals.” He ran the hand that was on your knee through his hair. “I wanted to recreate the magic they made me feel growing up for someone else, create videos that mattered to people.” You smiled gently at his confession and the rare vulnerability from him. That conversation seemed to be the catalyst for more questions to be passed between the two of you.

With every streetlight you passed, the conversation grew deeper, more intimate. You both shared random hopes, silly dreams, and fears, letting the darkness of the night become a haven.

Fatigue weighed heavy on your eyelids. You began losing the battle to sleep in the safety of his car. Schlatt drove through dimly lit neighborhoods, heading back to your place. He smiled to himself, finding new solace in you just being next to him. He thought, just for a moment, that it would be okay; just you and him against the world. His playlist repeated. The words weighing more than the first time the song played through the car and he found himself mumbling along. ’I wanna drive all night, Only me and you’

#jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #that's all folks - i have spoken

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sink-me-in-your-ocean · 7 months

Text

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 V

Spooky season edition!

No specific prompt, just random Halloween shenanigans and general buffoonery with the nameless goons ghouls

Thank you @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus for inspiration and scream laughing with me as I finished these!

No warnings; cut for formatting.

Swiss:

Once this ghoul learns about Ouija boards, no one can dissuade him from using one

You happened to have one that you had been too afraid to use

He begs and pleads to use it

Does not understand how to use it and does not want to learn

Asks WAY too intricate of questions

To no one's surprise, he gets impatient

“Swiss!” You slap his hands off the board again. “You can’t ask such convoluted questions, it would be impossible to get an answer!”

“What?” He shakes his head, “I just wanted to know how they died!”

“Yes, and that’s a rude question to ask.” He let out a huff so you continued, “Let’s just stick with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions, shall we?”

“Fine.” He grumbles, placing two fingers back on the planchette. You follow his l4ead, holding your breath as he thinks of a question. “Did you like music?”

The planchette moves to indicate yes.

“See now we’re getting somewhere.” He bites his bottom lip in deep concentration, “What’s your favorite K-pop group from the last ten years?”

You wanted to throw your hands up in exasperation, but you settled for narrowing your eyes at him, “Swiss, really?”

“I did it again, didn’t I?” His expression went sheepish.

The planchette moves on its own, guiding itself to land over yes again.

“Shit, sorry spirit!”

The two of you ask a couple more easy questions before proclaiming the session closed, moving the planchette to “goodbye”. After closing safely and packing everything up, you give Swiss a playful smack on his shoulder and he just grins at you, knowing full well he deserves to be scolded.

Phantom:

He found a box of Halloween decorations and made the executive decision that it wasn’t nearly enough

After trips to several stores for outdoor decor, he tasks you with helping to put everything up

You two even make a spooky playlist to blast while you work

The decorations look amazing, but are very scary at night

By the time Halloween actually rolls around, kids are too afraid to come up to the front door to trick-or-treat

“Where is everybody?” He’s been pacing since three in the afternoon.

You check your phone: it’s quarter past six now and well-past dark. You pat his bat wing-clad arm, “Maybe the house is too frightening, sometimes when people go overboard the little kids get too scared.”

He squishes his face against the front window, watching groups of trick-or-treaters going up and down the street, kids that pass by do so in a wide arc, you were right: they were too scared to come up.

“I’ve gone overboard!” He exclaims.

Before you can react he grabs the candy bowl and sprints out the front door, tearing down the pathway as the motion-triggered spiders drop down and animatronics all spring to life. They light up, scream, and cackle with voice lines as Phantom reaches the sidewalk and starts tossing candy out like it’s a sport.

Distantly, you hear him yelling, “I promise it’s not scary! Here’s the candy! I’m sorry!”

You cover your mouth as you smile. His enthusiasm is endearing to say the least. “There’s nothing for it now.” You say to yourself as you head out to join him.

You bring the rest of the oversized candy with you and two folding chairs. The two of you sit out front in your costumes and hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters until you run out of candy… because then Phantom starts giving away random things from the house, and that’s where you draw the line.

Dewdrop:

This ghoul wants to be an agent of chaos on Halloween

When you agree to go along with his mischievous plans, he shows you his plans

It’s basically just charcoal scribbles on a lined sheet of paper with random “X’s” on the page

He explains it’s his game plan, the map of where you’ll go to prank houses

When you ask about disguises, he is already prepared with ski masks and black gloves because he “doesn’t want to leave fingerprints”

You don’t waste your time explaining to the ghoul that his clawed fingers won’t leave fingerprints, instead nodding along with his antics

“Get back here!” A grumpy middle-aged man chases you and Dew across his lawn after you’d pelted his front door with eggs.

“Run!” You two split off into two different directions, following his plan perfectly and heading in a roundabout way towards the next victim’s house.

After stopping to catch your breath near some tall hedges, you straighten and walk briskly around the corner to find Dewdrop with his back to you. He looks on high alert, scoping out the area to make sure he can execute his pranks.

Might as well sneak up on him and have a little fun.

“Get off my lawn!” You scream and tickle his sides and he jumps, shrieking and whipping around with the most scared look on his face you’d ever seen.

You fall to the ground, holding your side from the leftover pain from running combined with your inability to breathe from laughing so hard.

“That’s - you! You’re not - ugh!” He stomps his feet, mad as a hornet, which only makes you laugh harder.

As the steam eventually dissipates from Dewdrop’s ears, you rally him to TP the last two houses on the map with you. His devilish grin returns and he cackles as he puts all his effort into throwing the toilet paper rolls over the unsuspecting person’s trees. Meanwhile, you await the ideal opportunity to sneak up behind him again.

Rain:

He is in a rare wholesome mood, asking you to go apple picking

You sense an undertone of delinquency in his request, but you go along with it

Once at the orchard, you lose Rain immediately

You find him later, and he has an entire wheelbarrow full of apples

He climbs from tree to tree like a wild animal

“Save some for everybody else, Rain!”

Your warning goes unheeded by the water ghoul, and he scrambles up the branches up the next tree, “I have to get all the best ones!”

After an exorbitant amount of money spent on apples later, you get home and make several gallons of cider and set it out in a giant punch bowl for everyone to enjoy.

You took a swig of the beverage, expecting a crisp, refreshing taste, but you were instead met with the burn of alcohol. There was only one ghoul to blame. “Rain, what did you do to the apple cider?”

“Uh,” He makes an innocent face, but is unable to meet your gaze, “nothing.”

“It tastes weird, you definitely did something.” You scowl at him, poking him in the shoulder.

He throws his hands up in defense, “Twist my arm why don’t you! I spiked it, what’s the big deal?”

You glance around the room, much to your dismay you realize that everyone is on their second or third refill of the stuff.

“The big deal, foolish ghoul, is everyone is getting lit from what they think is apple cider!”

Because of Rain’s antics you punish him by making him help you clean up the absolute mess everyone left. Hopefully scrubbing the floors of sticky sweet juice will make him think twice before pulling such an idiotic stunt again.

Mountain:

No matter if it’s hot or cold on Halloween night, Mountain wants to be outside

He happens to be a great story teller

And you happen to be a great s’mores maker

Outside + fire pit + scary stories = happy ghoul

(& happy you!)

He gets a crackling fire started in a little fire pit as you arrange the blankets and pillows you stole from the couch, making the space comfy and nice.

You set out the s'mores-making ingredients and tools, and since it’s Halloween, you have some candy to use instead of just plain chocolate bars.

Mountain tells you a scary story about a creature summoned from hell to devour unsuspecting people’s toes. You listen intently as you toast the marshmallows on long skewers, cooking them to the perfect consistency and assembling a s’more for yourself and him.

“That story is true, you know.” He takes a huge bite of his treat.

You reply with your mouth full, “What?”

“That story is about Dew.” He speaks matter-of-factly. You want to laugh but don’t get the chance before -

Speak of the devil.

“Who took my peanut butter cups?!?!” The two of you flinch as Dewdrop’s shrill screech hits your ears.

“Shit, hide the evidence!” You and Mountain shove as many candies in your mouths as you possibly can just as Dew stalks outside, surveying the area, scowling, and heading back inside.

Now you two laugh so hard your sides hurt. Once you finally stop giggling, you resume toasting marshmallows together. Of course, you have to just eat the plain roasted marshmallows by themselves since the chocolate is all gone now. But the sacrifice was well worth it if it meant saving yourselves from a fiery wrath.

Cirrus:

Not-so-secretly watches you making stuff in the kitchen before asking to join you

After you taught her the basics she is basically a sweet treat expert

She doesn’t mind getting her hands sticky, but you do give her your black apron so she can protect her clothes

She is currently obsessed with making the perfect Halloween cookies

After already having created a plethora of treats, Cirrus now refuses to leave the kitchen, staring at the oven with the light on to intimidate the dough inside. “These ones are going to be the best out of all of them.”

“You said that about the last batch, Cirrus.” You grin at her.

Ding! The timer goes off on the little pumpkin-shaped timer next to you and you get up to take the cookies out of the oven.

The heat blasts your face but you’re a seasoned baker, Cirrus, on the other hand, keeps her distance. She hasn't liked the “evil” oven ever since she got a little tiny red burn on her thumb from a baking tray. A burn you promptly treated and covered with a Hello Kitty bandage.

You set the tray on a little potholder on the counter and glance around. Popcorn balls, rice cereal treats, caramel apples, Oreo spiders, and chocolate pretzels all sit on the counter staring at you waiting to be wrapped up.

“I think we should get these cleaned up before everyone gets home, what do you think?” You ask.

“Yes! I can’t have them gobbling up all the goodies like the greedy goblins they are.” She promptly gobbles a fresh cookie to emphasize her point.

Cirrus helps you package up everything nicely, using Halloween-themed containers, sneaking samples of every item at least once as you clean up. You both have to lock everything up so the rest of the siblings don’t come home and tear through all the snacks before you get a chance to have seconds.

Cumulus:

This ghoul has so much creativity and she has to get it out

You two decide to go to a pumpkin patch to find the ideal pair of pumpkins to carve

Cumulus picks out matching outfits for both of you, perfect for photo opportunities

With a couple of sweet fall drinks, you load up in the car ready to go

She drags you along to the patch of overpriced pumpkins

“Hurry up! All the good ones will be gone!” She calls your name over her shoulder and skips quickly ahead of you into the fray of kids and young adults scrambling over pumpkins laying about on hay bales.

After much deliberation, Cumulus has chosen a perfectly round pumpkin for herself and a nice, tall one for you.

Later.

You’ve barely got the pumpkin guts out and your hands are covered in slime, wrists weak from the effort as Cumulus asks you if you want to see her creation.

“You’re finished already?” Disbelief coats your tongue.

“Well, yeah!” She pivots the orange pumpkin to face you, and you see the intricately carved cat and moon she has free handed. “This was so fun! Can I help you with yours?”

“I’d love that, actually.” You fling your hand to remove some of the sticky seeds.

You need not dwell in despair for long, as Cumulus will surely help you with the carving of your pumpkin. They look amazing all lit up on the porch at night, and you take a cute selfie with her to commemorate the occasion.

Aurora:

It’s a mistake to bring Aurora with you to the store when all of the Halloween candy and decor is out

She wants everything

Good thing you have Papa’s credit card…

Sooner rather than later you have a cart full of stuff and she’s still not satisfied, filling her arms full of goodies with as much as she can carry

“Oh can we get these too?” She holds up a pack of 50 cellophane bags, each printed with pumpkins, bats, and skulls.

“Put it in the cart.” You’d given up at this point on telling the sweet ghoul “no”.

Finally satisfied with her menagerie of candies, snacks, decorations, Halloween themed pencils and miscellaneous items, you push the cart to the check out.

The cashier looks you up and down and sighs, being forced to scan all of the things Aurora picked out apparently is the bane of their existence.

She puts on the aux in the car, and you listen to “This is Halloween” from the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack for the ninetieth time today while you shove the bags inside the trunk.

You two drive back home and lay everything out all over the floor, making a huge mess. It will all be worth it though.

Aurora shines as she hands out the goodie bags to all the trick-or-treaters on Halloween night. You smile widely until you hear Papa yelling from the other room as he discovers how much money you two spent.

I hope these make you ghesties laugh as much as I did ○( ＾皿＾)っ

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gordonstanheight · 12 days

Text

masterlist of my f1 lists! :)

below can be found various playlists, letterboxd lists, and serializd lists of songs, movies, and tv shows that the drivers have discussed! they are all constant works in progress, and i always welcome help <3 i try to have sources for everything, especially the letterboxd lists!

honestly this is more of a passion side project to get recommendations for new medias than anything else LOL there's some really good hidden gems in here IMO

i also just really wanted it all in one place !! so without further ado --

—————

playlists:

‘: ☆ NR6! — sounds to make you feel like you can beat god himself in equal machinery

‘: ☆ SP11! — the mexican minister of defense and his sounds

‘: ☆ LH44! — what does a 7x wdc listen to?

‘: ☆ GR63! — background noise for powerpoint night (which is every night)

‘: ☆ CS55! — the sounds of a smooth operator

‘: ☆ CL16! — what it means to be il predestinato

‘: ☆ LN4! — to play for all occasions (becoming a dj, golf player, race car driver, twitch streamer)….

‘: ☆ LS18! — fortune favors the bold. המזל מעדיף את האמיצים

‘: ☆ SV5! — musik für den sonnenschein

‘: ☆ FA14! — what to put on when you’re conspiring el plan

‘: ☆ PG10! — this playlist was liked by pierre gasly

‘: ☆ E031! — what is estie bestie listening to?

‘: ☆ AA23! — tfw “we bought a zoo” is a movie about your life and also you just died (via appendicitis)

‘: ☆ YT22! — this is what plays softly over the speakers at yuki's restaurant

‘: ☆ ZG24! — how to get in the mood for a runway walk before a fashion show

‘: ☆ VB77! — what plays during cups of coffee and bike rides with the one you love

‘: ☆ MSC47! — what you'd listen to if you were a golden retriever turned into a human boy for a day

‘: ☆ KM20! — what is kmag listening to?

‘: ☆ MV33! — what plays in mad max’s head on loop during his casual sunday cruises as everyone else fights for their life

‘: ☆ DR3! — drs zone activated (daniel ricciardo supremacy)

—————

film (letterboxd) lists:

': ♡ SP11! // no. 1 man on fire (2004) fan

': ♡ LH44! // official letterboxd top four: coming to america, trading places, six degrees of separation, scarface

': ♡ GR63! // no. 1 the gentlemen (2019) fan

': ♡ CS55! // average quentin tarantino fan

': ♡ CL16! // can't stop rewatching harry potter

': ♡ LN4! // class clown says he mostly just watches comedies i said oh i'm sure

': ♡ LS18! // filmbro taste with a bleeding heart

': ♡ SV5! // prefers films made before 2010

': ♡ FA14! // he doesn't like film or music apparently he just stares at a wall all day

': ♡ PG10! // currently rewatching harry potter with charles

': ♡ EO31! // always on that marvel grind

': ♡ AA23! // no jokes just his letterboxd would be insane

': ♡ YT22! // jason statham's biggest fan

': ♡ VB77! // this is literally just someone's dad

': ♡ MSC47! // what the letterboxd of a guy who is actually scared of the nun (2018) would look like

': ♡ KM20! // he just likes the shawshank redemption a lot

': ♡ MV33! // no. 1 fan of the hangover trilogy

': ♡ DR3! // unofficial letterboxd top four: dumb & dumber, friday night lights, ace ventura: pet detective, talladega nights

—————

television (serializd) lists:

': ❀ SP11! ~~ dad taste real

': ❀ LH44! ~~ in his own words he doesn't really care to watch much tv so be disappointed but not surprised by his list

': ❀ GR63! ~~ sitcom type of guy

': ❀ CS55! ~~ grid king of binge watching like only one guy here would be on that grind during surgery

': ❀ CL16! ~~ he "doesn't have the patience" for a lot of tv but he likes to stay up with the trends

': ❀ LN4! ~~ mostly just watches what carlos recommends

': ❀ LS18! ~~ will always be seated for a sports docuseries

': ❀ SV5! ~~ not huge on tv but likes an easy watch

': ❀ FA14! ~~ dad taste and also his own freakin' show

': ❀ PG10! ~~ only watches the trends

': ❀ EO31! ~~ he likes to be thrilled and he likes to laugh

': ❀ VB77! ~~ recently likes two wheels more than four

': ❀ MSC47! ~~ tries to reject the trends, but sometimes they hit idk

': ❀ KM20! ~~ self-admittedly used to be more of a tv guy than he is these days

': ❀ MV33! ~~ loves a good action show

': ❀ DR3! ~~ his favorite hobby might be consuming media

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starflungwaddledee · 5 months

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answering a couple of strike-outs from my top 100 music asks in a batch! i highly recommend this first one especially, but the rest will go under the cut!

55- the shade by Metric (asked by @trainerbob23) a strikeout; this is actually for one of my original projects (currently on the backburner) but i love it so i listen to it a lot

HOWEVER... that project is also a sci-fi story about escaping into space on a boat, so i could make it about magicapple or starstruck dee quite easily.

With eternal love, the stars above, all there is and ever was I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it all A blade of grass, a grain of sand, the moonlit sea, I'll hold your hand I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it a l l

42- phenomenon by JVNA & LICK a semi strikeout. 🕰️ while this is technically on my clockwork heart playlist, it's for the vibes only. the lyrics don't really click for me

When every hope inside me dies You take my hand, show me the light With you I feel like finally living on You're one phenomenon

84- haven by Novo Amor strikeout. just a song from Life Is Strange 3, which we played at the beginning of the year and i was very emotional about and subsequently binged the entire album a lot!

I'll be late, but I could make it all up to you I'll count down the days, don't say that you wouldn't too 'Cause I heard the rain, as I felt you coming loose And I heard my name, it broke my head in two

99- once in a while (ft. alina renae) by Corticus (asked by @pick-a-number-star) cw: some swearing in this one, couple of f-bombs strikeout. technically this is a song for me myself to relate to, so i could try to put it onto starstruck dee, but... she doesn't have the same life experiences i do in the slightest, and i really feel it's about that 😂

Don't get me wrong, yeah, my head is spinning And sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind I love my life and everyone in it But sometimes I feel like they're missing these signs And I'm done doing this shit, I'm so over it

#a lot of folks have asked for numbers in the lower half which surprised me!#i will admit that a lot of the AU heavy stuff is actually closer to the top 👍#music #starstruck dee #my art #<- only that one picture of starstruck dee there though #only got one more of these to go (but i need to do art for it) so if anyone wants to send in a few more i'd be happy to answer!!

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teddy-bear-baby · 7 months

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Their Deadly Flower - Ten

(A/n: Chapter Ten as promised. Enjoy, my Lovelies!)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Here - Eleven

The drive to the meeting point was long and awkward. Beside you in the passenger seat König was quietly seething while Ghost sat in the back staring at you in the rearview mirror. Only two hours in and you had subconsciously chewed no less than three holes in the inside of your cheek.

You found out as you were tossing your things into the car that Ghost had requested to be part of your little mission. Price, not seeing any harm in it, had agreed to allow Ghost to head out early with you and König. Silent panic had set in almost immediately as you hadn’t had time to tell König about the interaction you’d had with Ghost yet. You had hoped to have that conversation alone with him on the way there, which wasn’t quite possible now. Thinking about it though, maybe it was best you hadn’t gone through with that plan. König was a large man, and while you didn’t think he’d ever get violent with you, you couldn’t be sure. You’d seen him angry only a few hours ago and that was not something you wanted directed at you.

The tense silence had begun to annoy you slightly. “You guys want to listen to music or something?” You peer over at König and then in the rear view mirror at Ghost, neither spoke as they glanced at you. “Ok…” You keep your eyes trained on the road as you think through your options; You could just blurt out that you had mostly made up with Ghost, but the thought of König losing his shit right next to you dissuades you. You could just leave the situation as is, but the silence and odd air in the vehicle was distracting, and that alone was dangerous. You could stop the car and tell them to hash out their problems before you get there, but you don’t really want to deal with cleaning up the fallout of them pummeling each other.

After thinking on it for a while you decide to put your playlist on and just let it run until you reach your destination. It does very little to ease the tension between the three of you, but you try to push that out of your mind, quietly bobbing your head to the music. Neither Ghost or König seemed to mind, so you kept driving, turning it up a little hoping to drown out the thoughts running through your head.

You’d been on the road for nearly 4 hours now, still listening to your music, paying no mind to the two brooding men in the car with you. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel as you sing along to your ever-playing list of songs.

Your voice dies in your throat as the music cuts off abruptly. You turn your head to look at the center console, finding your phone missing from its previous location. “What the hell?” You glance over at König, finding your phone in his large hands. It looked almost like a toy as he thumbed through your playlist. “Oh..” You move your eyes back to the road as you wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing.

A light hum comes from the hooded man next to you. “What is ‘Guy.exe’? What the hell is ‘Superfruit’?”

You laugh through your nose as you glance at him. Confusion flashes through his eyes as he stares at you. “It’s a song, if you’re that curious you can play it.” You nod at him and watch as he taps the glowing screen. You sway in your seat a bit as the song begins. You flick your eyes to the rearview where Ghost stares straight ahead awkwardly. You sing along, glancing between the road, König, and Ghost. “Six feet tall and super strong.”

A devilish grin graces your face as you hear Ghost choke on his own saliva. You snort as you catch his wide eyes staring at you, laughing outright when you see König side eyeing you deviously. The tension in the car starts to dwindle as you all begin laughing.

All hard feelings are put aside and replaced with light banter as both men start critiquing your music taste. You can’t help but laugh and play along, not wanting this little bonding moment between them to end. You enjoy the way they get along in the moment, anger and animosity left behind for the time being. They take turns playing songs from your playlist, requesting you to sing for them.

“What do I look like, a karaoke professional?” You roll your eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

König looks at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. “Come on, Maus. Bitte, just one more.” He glances back at Ghost for a moment as he speaks. “Back me up on this one, ja? It’s a beautiful sight.”

Ghost hums at König’s words. “It is. He’s right.” He leans forward, one hand on either seat as his head pokes in between the front seats. “One more, Love? We’re almost there, what’ll it hurt?”

You blush a little as the nickname falls from his lips so naturally. “My pride?” You try your best not to look at either of them. You can feel their eyes still on you as you bring the car to a stop at a red light at the edge of the city. You take your chances, glancing over at the two of them. That was a mistake, both stare at you expectantly. Your heart feels as though it’ll beat out of your chest, heat making its way to the tips of your ears.

You start second guessing all of the fantasies from before. You could barely handle both of them staring at you while you were fully clothed, you’d surely die of a heart attack before they even touched you. You groan internally as the conjured images come flooding back to you. That coiling heat begins to grow between your hips as you impatiently wait for the light to turn green.

With a huff you relent, finally speak again. “Fine, but I get to pick the song.” You glance between the two men who smile at you with their eyes. A sigh falls from your lips as you silently plead with yourself, hoping that the fire in your belly will die down before you get where you’re going. “Play ‘Bound To You’ by Christina Aguilera.” You watch as König’s thumbs tap at the screen for a moment before the soft strings and piano begin spilling from the speakers.

You focus all of your energy into driving and singing along. You direct every word at both of the men in the car with you without either of them knowing. Your mind swiftly drops the lewd images, instead replaying some of your happiest memories with them. Your secret serenade seems to capture their full attention, neither of them speaking as you continue belting out the words. “Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall?”

You inhale deeply, the song comes to a close as you make the last turn of your drive. You slow the car a bit, keeping your eye out for the designated parking lot. You spot a small lot, empty aside from a man leaning against a motorcycle. “This is it, right?” You nod toward the lot as you bring the car to stop.

When you don’t get a response you glance over, to see if they’d fallen asleep or something. You’re surprised to find that both of them are still staring at you, an awestruck look in their eyes. Your stomach does back flips as you blink at them. “Guys?” You wave your hand in front of them. “What’s wrong with you two?” You put the car in park and turn the ignition off before opening your door and climbing out.

They both come out of their dazes and follow suit, climbing out of the car and checking their weapon holsters. You keep your back to the parking lot as you slide your mask over your head before walking cautiously to meet with the man standing in the parking lot. You keep a few paces back from König and Ghost, turned toward the street as they have a hushed conversation with the man. You keep your eyes peeled, insuring you weren’t being watched or followed. Your hand resting on the pistol holstered on your hip, ready to pull it free at a moment's notice.

The sound of light footsteps alerts you to the end of the conversation. You peak over your shoulder seeing Ghost and König walking up to you, shoulder to shoulder. You catch the end of their quiet conversation as they stop by your side.

“It’ll have to do. May not be huge, but it’s something.” Ghost glances down at you as he finishes speaking to König. “I’ll drive, it’s not far.” He holds his hand out, silently asking for the keys. “Small abandoned house just north of here.”

You pull the keys from your pocket, placing them lightly in his palm as you start walking back toward the car. “How small is small?”

Both men chuckle as they follow you to the car, but neither answers your question.

~~~~~

You grimace a bit as you stare at your new home away from home. In front of you stands a quaint family home long since abandoned. Mint green paint cracked and peeling, vines have overtaken the whole right side. The windows are boarded and shuddered, broken glass scattered across the overgrown path to the side gate. The front door hangs crooked on its hinges, one harsh gust of wind away from ceasing to exist. “Cozy.” Your sarcastic remark is rewarded with a small chuckle from the men on either side of you.

Ghost pats your back lightly as he begins walking up to the door. “We’ve slept in worse.”

You stifle a laugh as you think back to the old rickety cabin he was referring to.

You and Ghost had been separated from the rest of your team during a torrential downpour. If it hadn’t been for him grabbing your wrist and tugging you along, you’d probably have been completely lost and alone through the six hour storm. With radio contact cut due to the storm and no way of navigating through the blinding rain, you were forced to take shelter wherever you could.

You were soaking wet and freezing cold when you finally found an old, stand-alone cabin. There were no windows and the door didn’t latch but it was shelter. The whole building swayed with the wind as the foundation groaned. The floor bowed beneath your weight, creaking with each step.

“I think I’d rather brave the storm than risk this collapsing in on us.” You scan the building's interior with your NVGs while Ghost jams the door closed with one of his knives. The building consisted of two rooms; The main room, which held a small pull out couch with a dusty blanket draped over the back and a wood furnace with a small pile of lumber next to it, and a small, showerless bathroom that connected in the far back corner.

Ghost grumbles a bit as he walks across the small space to the furnace. He squats and hunches over as he places a few logs in. “Strip.” His voice is serious and demanding.

Shock overtakes you and you stand there gawking at him. “I’m sorry, Lt. What?”

Ghost stands to his full height as small flames begin lapping at the inside of the furnace, shedding the smallest amount of light around the room. “Did I stutter, Iris?” He doesn’t even bother glancing at you as he begins stripping off his gear.

You watch as each layer falls from his god-like body. First is his vest and holsters, piled neatly in the corner. The next to go is his overcoat followed by his shirt. The flickering gold light of the fire only accentuates the dips and curves of his muscles as he continues peeling the clothing from his body. You force yourself to look away as your mouth practically waters at the sight of him nearly naked.

He lets out an aggravated huff as his bare feet thud across the floor. “That was an order Sergeant. Unless you rather hypothermia take your limbs.” He works quickly, removing your vest and holsters. You swallow a moan as his hand brushes your inner thigh, his fingers working deftly at a buckle between your legs.

You step back once you’ve been rid of all your gear. “I- I think I can take it from here, Simon. Thanks.” You shift awkwardly as you pull at the cuffs of your jacket.

“Are you sure?” Simon’s voice is husky as he rakes his eyes down your body. “I wouldn’t mind helping.” He gives a half shrug as continues to stare at you.

Your face begins to burn as you continue to pull your jacket from your arms. “No, I think I’m more than capable of stripping myself.”

“Suit yourself, Sweetheart.” A mischievous glint flashes through his gaze as he turns and walks to the couch.

You shed everything but your undergarments as you watch him unfold the couch and toss the cushion up to the top. Your heart races as you slowly walk over and sit on the edge of the bed with your back to your lieutenant. You rub your hands up and down your arms attempting to produce some sort of heat. You nearly jump out of your skin when two arms wrap around your midsection, pulling your back flush against the culprit’s chest.

“We’ll have to share the blanket.” Ghost pulls you down to the bed as he brings the blanket around you both. His head comes to rest in the crook of your neck as you drift peacefully into sleep.

~~~~~

The house has three bedrooms and one bathroom, along with a kitchen, living room, dining room and a half basement. None of which had furniture. Ghost explained over ‘dinner’ how each room would hold two people, the dining room would hold four more and the rest would squeeze in wherever they could. The basement would be turned into an armory of sorts, while it wouldn’t be stocked as well as the one back at the main base it would hold all of the necessities.

You’d each set up a small area to sleep in, each of you claiming a bedroom to occupy until the others arrived. You’d thought for a moment about sleeping in a room with one of them, but decided it wasn’t a good idea. They’d gotten along so far and you didn’t want to ruin the peace. Your mind drifted between the two as you fell asleep. Dreams filled with the two of them holding you close, like some weird love triangle.

You woke up to the sound of light footsteps in the hall outside of the door. The sun shined bright through the window, nearly blinding you as you opened your eyes. You groan as you consider rolling over and going back to sleep. You’d been up almost all night driving and could really use a bit more rest. You lay there for what feels like hours without sleep taking you back into its comforting arms. You give in and with a heavy sigh you pull yourself out of bed.

When you finally make it down the stairs you find Ghost and König sitting on the kitchen floor. They sit against opposite walls, each with an empty MRE next to them. You wonder for a moment if they’d allowed each other to see their faces.

“Good morning Maus. Breakfast?” You nod slightly and König nods back as he slides a bottle of water and ‘breakfast’ across the floor.

As you finish off your food you look to Ghost, hoping for some answers about what you were supposed to be doing. “What’s our next move, just wait for the others?” Your curiosity had been slowly rising all morning. You knew nothing of the rest of the mission, just that you were to secure the safe house and wait.

Ghost shrugs his shoulders a little as he stares at you from across the kitchen floor. “Yea, far as I’m aware.” He brings himself to sit a bit straighter. “Could use something to sit on while we wait for them.”

You snicker a bit at the thought of the three of you traipsing around a furniture store in your field gear. You could just imagine the confused stares you’d get from the civilians around town. “I’m not sure we can just walk around town furniture shopping Lt. I mean,” Another small giggle escapes you as you look between the three of you sitting on the cold linoleum. “Look at us. At the very least you two would stick out like sore thumbs.”

Mischief twinkles in Ghost’s eyes, voice lilting with amusement. “Does that mean you’re volunteering to go for us?”

“Definitely not, no.” You set your face seriously, honestly not wanting to think about how troublesome it would be to buy furniture for men as large as they are. “I think it’d be best if the two of you went. I might accidentally buy a normal sized chair and that would be a disaster.” Your voice drips with sarcasm as your eyes move to König, his shoulders shake slightly as if he’s holding back a laugh. “I mean, it would give you guys time to work on this little act.” You gesture between the two, a devious smile creeping onto your features. “You know, a grumpy old man and his anxiety riddled wife. The kind that bicker over nothing.” You stand, moving to leave the kitchen. You knew there would be backlash for that comment, and the more distance you could get the better chance you had of survival.

“What was that, Sweetheart?” Ghost’s voice came out dangerously low, but still playful. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You glance over your shoulder as you round the corner into the dining room. You squeal as you catch sight of both König and Ghost already on their feet, stalking toward you. You break into a sprint, making your way to the stairs. “Wherever you’re not, that’s where I’m going.” You can’t help but laugh as you rush for the stairs.

“Run all you want, Liebe, there’s nowhere to hide.” The dark tone of König’s taunt sends chills up your spine.

The thought of them hunting you down in an old, empty house had your mind racing. A whirlwind of lewd images passing through your mind as you rush up the stairs. König was right though, there was nowhere to hide. You settled instead for locking yourself in the bathroom, bracing yourself against the door.

(Don’t forget to ask about joining my tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing)

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