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blue-jisungs · 24 days

Text

ONE SHOT

author's note. first of all thank u @kyrjnie for helping me out w the idea fot this one!!! its kinda ironic how it was one of the fics i had a plan for but it ended up being the last one lmaooo and also @eternalgyuuu w the banner<3 BUT my dudes its the last fic of the 2 year event!! thank u for sticking around - both around me and the event hehe - i'm very grateful <3 i hope you more or less enjoyed it!!!

summary. when a stranger keeps you company

warnings. its said that there was a creepy man following yn:(

word count. 1339

seungcheol has a good heart.

no matter how scary may he look or how tough may he act, deep down he always has and will have a pure heart.

he never considered it a flaw. not even now, that he is way too far from the stop where he was supposed to get off. in the middle of the week, at almost 1am.

but he can’t leave you alone, can he?

it’s not like he knows you… but on his way home at this late hour, he listened to music and just drifted away. the subway was gradually emptying, not many people going as far as him.

but there was this one girl, who must have entered before him – you were already here, dozed off, when he took the subway.

he glanced at you, subconsciously smiling at how cute you are. that was another thing about seungcheol – he was so pure. upon seeing an adorable thing, person or anything else, he’d always smile and adore it.

and today it just happened to be you. he liked to think about others – one would call it being nosy but he genuinely cared about people, even strangers.

so when he was about to approach his stop and leave, he furrowed his brows. there was this one man at the end of the subway car, eyeing you from time to time.

and seungcheol despite glaring at him and having an overall intimidating aura (especially with the freshly dyed red hair) didn’t manage to scare him off. he just had a bad feeling and decided to wait for you to wake up.

the creep must have been either stupid or stupidly stubborn since he just shrugged and relaxed in his seat.

which is why now seungcheol is 13 stops away from his house and at the end of the line.

the subway halted, announcing it’s the last stop.

he sighed and stood up, observing with a corner of his eye how the stranger left the car.

seungcheol stretched and sat next to you, hearing a muffled sound of a studio ghibli soundtrack playing in your earphones. he tapped your shoulder gently, observing your reaction.

you seemed to gradually wake up – scrunching your nose, stretching, opening an eye open, fighting a yawn and then finally, a sleepy gaze meeting his.

your eyes widened upon seeing an unfamiliar man this close to you and he immediately moved a bit further.

“sorry to wake you up, it’s just… it’s the last stop” he smiled and you noticed his cute dimples. nodding, you grabbed your purse and blinked slowly.

“um, thank you. i get off here either way but i really appreciate it” you sent him a warm smile and you two left the subway.

the weather was a bit stuffy but it was nice to catch some fresh air. you saw the stranger looking at something behind your back.

“do you get off here too?” you asked hesitantly.

you take this route everyday at this hour, after work. you should’ve recognized his face if he was a regular too – especially with his handsome face and bright red hair. he shook his head softly.

“i don’t” he smiled tenderly and his cute, brown eyes moved to need yours “i… there was a weird guy, he’s over there. i couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone. sorry if that made you uncomfortable”

you felt your stomach twist at the thought of some weirdo following you but then… the man in front of you willingly missed his stop to prevent anything from happening.

“what’s, uhm, your name? if i can…” you didn’t finish, shyness taking over you. but the redhead grinned, the cute dimples poking out again.

“seungcheol. and yours?” he asked, hiding his hands in the pocket of his jean jacket.

“y/n” you introduced yourself, unable to stop your own lips from forming into a smile – the gesture was too infectious not to do so. “seungcheol, thank you so much. you’re a real gentleman, i thought… there’s no good left in the world. but you proved me wrong

he scoffed, shaking his head.

“no problem” he grinned and hesitated for a moment, biting down on his plump bottom lip. then he whipped out his phone in a cherry case and checked the time “i still have like… half an hour before the next ride. and i would sleep way more peacefully if i knew you arrived home safe. can i walk you back?”

normally, you’d decline. but upon slightly turning around you noticed a weird man glancing at you two. besides, you had a good feeling about seungcheol. maybe you shouldn’t… but there was just something so warm and genuine about him that you agreed.

with a small nod, you grabbed his arm. turning around, you passed the man.

“i know we’re strangers but sleeping on the subway doesn’t seem like a safe idea” seungcheol said softly.

the night was peaceful, stars shining beautifully on the navy sky. a soft gust of wind blew in your face, running through your hair.

“i don’t usually do this, don’t worry” you scoffed and fixed the bag on your arm. “today was just exhausting and i made the mistake of putting some calm songs”

he smiled and took a glance over his shoulder. the man was nowhere to be seen. good.

you had a small talk with him since your walk home usually takes up to 10 minutes. upon arriving at the entrance to the staircase, you slowly let go of his arm. stepping at the stair so you’d be on his eye level, he grinned cutely at the gesture.

“i really appreciate your gesture, seungcheol. i know i said it like, five times already but… you know” you said shyly, fidgeting with a strap of your bag.

“and as i said: no problem. seriously, y/n” the man nodded and your eyes suddenly widened.

“wait here a second!” you gasped and entered the code. seungcheol only saw a glimpse of you disappearing in the hallway.

seungcheol let out a scoff and hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket, suddenly taking a deep breath.

you’re so adorable.

just when he was about to check the time, the door swung open and you appeared in them again. there was a silver package in your hand, your chest moving up and down irregularly.

“the… stairs…” you breathed out and he laughed, noticing your messy hair. “i almost… tripped…”

shaking your head, you put the item in his calloused hand.

“i made you a quick sandwich. i figured you’re hungry and to even slightly return the favour, you know?” you smiled and tucked your hands in the pocket of your jeans. he smiled sweetly, his heart melting on the spot “it’s, um, lettuce, ham and cheese. nothing crazy, sorry”

“thank you so much. i bet it’ll be delicious” he hummed and silence fell between you two.

seungcheol bit his bottom lip.

he had only one shot. he had to be casual.

“um, i was wondering–”

“hey, if you ever–”

you exchanged surprised looks when your voices merged upon speaking up at the same time. you both laughed, cute wrinkles forming around his eyes.

“you go first” you insisted.

“if you ever need like… a scary dog privilege or some help, i can give you my number” he said with a boyish smile. the words were said and now…

“even help with ordering a coffee?” you asked. seungcheol caught the hidden meaning and just nodded.

“of course” he said and you exchanged numbers, moonlight shining on his handsome face.

“and um, text me when you get home. i wanna know if my guard arrived safely too” you hummed, wrapping your arms around your torso. seungcheol saluted and slowly began to walk away back to the station.

you stood there until he disappeared from your sight and he turned around like, 3 times.

with heart thumping in your chest and a foolish smile on his face, cheol was glad he took that one shot.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

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Housewife

Part - 7

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

It was the sleepover you never had. Although there was no pillow fights and a little too much Tom Cruise, you had the best time you've had in a while. "God you sound like Billy." Sydney laid back in her bed toying with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be hateful. It's not just scary movies either, you haven't seen any classics?" Tatum snickered throwing her stuffed animal in the air, catching it as it fell back down. "Well you haven't seen any new movies. It's like for the past 6 years you've been locked in grandmas basement."

"Maybe you're right." You sat on the floor organizing your bag. "Do you have any songs or movies you like that your dad or someone else in your family doesn't like?" Sydney asked genuinely curious. You thought about it for a second but your silence answered the question for them. "You've been totally brainwashed babe." Tatum quipped in a way that made you feel a little ashamed. "Y/n there's nothing wrong with liking the things you do, but you should be doing it because you like it and not because someone else does."

"Yeah you need to take notes from Syd here. She is thee feminist. Billy and her have been dating for over a year and she still hasn't slept with him." The brown haired girl looked upset at her friend's honesty. "What'd I say wrong? I wish I could do what you do. I know If I left Stu to his own devices he would just find someone else to help him out." You looked to the floor ready to throw up at a moments notice. That's what this was. You weren't special. Billy took an interest in you because he thought you would put out unlike his girlfriend. "Y/n?"

"I should break up with my boyfriend." You said flatly, all the moisture from your mouth disappeared at the realization. "Huh?" Sydney asked confused by the switch up but Tatum however was your number one cheerleader. "Hell yeah kick that bastard to the curb! What did he do?" Dylan wasn't even that good of a boyfriend back home you weren't sure why he wanted to keep things long distance. This whole discussion though made you want to change some things. "He still lives back home and I just really want to start over now."

You rang up your boyfriend and called it quits. The yelling on the phone was a surprise but Tatum quickly took the phone from you saying something you weren't really sure you were allowed to repeat. Sleeping in a house that wasn't your's was hard especially when you kept thinking about the two men you knew a little too well. Sunday morning was a blur, it consisted of cereal, the news going on about the murders, and school gossip. Eventually you and the girls made it back to Tatum bedroom.

"Hello you must be Y/n." The cop held out his hand for you to shake, which you did. "I'm Dewy." He said. His awkward presence was somehow comforting. "Ew dipshit don't flirt with my friends." Tatum complained making Sydney crack a smile. Red sprinkled his cheeks as he tried to defend himself. "You're fine. It's nice to meet you, Dewy. So you're a cop?" You point to the badge just trying to make conversation. "Here we go." Tatum whispered and Dewy smiled. "I'm actually a deputy." He tapped his badge with pride.

"He's just like Arnold Schwarzenegger... In kindergarten cop." Tatum made fun of him again almost making you crack a smile. "I think it's cool." He looked over at Sydney noticing her quietness. "How are you Syd?" She nodded with a fake smile. "Yesterday was hard so today has to be better." Dewy nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents." Tatum's brother looked at you as he spoke. The word "grandparents" made you look up. "Oh um... Thanks." You weren't quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "I'm going to use the bathroom." You excused yourself leaving the three of them together.

"Why would you bring that up?" Tatum scolded. "What happened to her grandparents?" Sydney asked. Dewy leaned on the door frame looking down the hallway making sure you were out of ear shot. "They committed suicide together. Both of them took a handful of sleeping pills, and she found them." The two girls felt bad hearing the information. Tatum remembered a commotion happening at the house down the street but she never knew what exactly had happened. Just that you moved in shortly after.

You walked back to the bedroom once you dried your face off from the water you threw onto your skin. "Well I've got to get going. Do you girls need anything?" He asked and everyone said no. Dewy left with a wave shutting the door behind him. "Sorry he's not very socially aware." Tatum apologized but you just nodded. "It's fine. Really." They didn't believe you but they dropped the discussion anyhow.

The day went on with Tatum doing your nails and trying on half the clothes you brought over. You offered Sydney to join in but she declined. Later on you and Sydney talked about what books you had read which Tatum was not interested in at all. It was much harder keeping them two entertained than it was with Billy and Stu. There didn't seem to be much common ground between the girls. You slept much easier than the night previous. Maybe you were finally settling in.

"Wake up girls." Tatum's mom beat on the door making everyone but Tatum jump up. You groaned as Sydney went to wake up her friend. You pulled a pair of bell-bottoms from your bag along with an old band shirt. It wasn't what you'd normally wear to school but you didn't have the time nor energy to doll yourself up. "I like the grunge look on you." You felt partially offended by Tatum's compliment because there was nothing "grunge" about your look. The outfit consisted of jeans, a shirt, no makeup, paired with hair you hadn't had the chance to fix.

"You look comfortable." Sydney chirped meaning well. Their back handed compliments made you want to crawl in a hole. You sat down with the girls in the kitchen, quickly eating breakfast before Dewy came to take you to school. You offered to just get your car but Dewy refused saying he was fine to drive. The thought about skipping the day completely had crossed your mind multiple times.

The moment the car stopped at school you said goodbye to your friends. "I've got to go grab some things from my locker I'll catch you at lunch." You didn't give them time to protest. Unfortunately for you Stu was at your locker waiting patiently for your appearance. "Yo Betty Crock- Pants?" You weren't in the mood for either one of their antics. "You look lovely today." He said like a kid with a crush. Stu swayed back and forth on his heels waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. "Did I do something wrong?" You slammed your locker shut making him jump.

"I'll take that as a yes." You turned to walk away but it never did any good with Stu. "I can't fix this if you don't tell me what's wrong." You stopped, looking at him with tears stinging your eyes. "We can't do this Stu." You pulled him to the side out of everyone's way. "You and Billy are my friends." The emphasis on friends made his heart shrink a little. "I would hope so after everything-" He tried to crack a joke to make you laugh but he didn't realize you felt like the joke was on you. "Would you just listen!" You cut him off grabbing the attention of some bystanders. You waited a moment for people to pass by before speaking.

"This cannot happen. Me, you, and Billy, can no longer happen. No more hanging out at my place, no more ambushing me in public bathrooms," He smiled at that not being able to take a single thing seriously. "No more hanging around at my locker. Tatum and Sydney are sweet girls who don't deserve what we did to them. As long as they are in the picture I'm not going to be, understand?" The bottom line was you weren't a plaything and you weren't a homewrecker. Stu however took it the way he wanted to.

"I understand. I'm sorry if we overstepped." You were ready for him to get on one knee and embarrass you into forgiving him. This was a nice change. "Thank you Stu." He smiled. "Will you still hang with us at lunch?" Damnit. "No Stu, I won't. I've got to make new friends. Since day one all I've known is you and Billy. And now that I've gotten to know Sydney and Tatum, I realized I need my own thing." The bell rung ending the conversation prematurely. "See ya Stu."

"Shit, Shit, Shit," Stu repeated the word over and over like a small prayer. He walked the halls quickly finding Billy's first period class. Stu waved like a mad man trying to get his friend's attention through the window. "May I go to the bathroom?" Billy asked already getting up from his seat. "You may Mr. Loomis." The boy wasn't too happy with the sudden distraction. "This better be good." Billy started walking towards the bathroom with Stu in tow.

"Y/n is dropping us." Billy stopped in his tracks at the confession. Calmly he took a breath saving his anger for a secluded spot. He picked of his feet once again heading towards the restroom. Stu was terrified not only of losing you but also of his friends short fuse. The moment the bathroom door was locked he exploded. "What the fuck do you mean?" Billy cursed as he pushed open each stall checking for anyone. "She said it was wrong what we were doing to Tatum and Syd and as long as they were in the picture she wasn't going to be." Billy grabbed Stu's shirt by the collar. "This shit wouldn't have happened if you didn't call Sydney the other night."

He pushed his friend backwards letting Stu's back hit the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it man?" Billy didn't believe him. Stu was always doing something he shouldn't be. "We'll go back to our plan. Do everything exactly the same way just a little later than we hoped." Billy breathed out thinking of how to pull this off. "Syd's mom's anniversary was Saturday."

"You think I don't know that dipshit?" He pointed in Stu's face. Running his hands through his hair he tried to calm down. "Neil killed Casey and Steve on Wednesday night. That's when he told Syd he was leaving town." Stu just nodded along listening to Billy. "With all the publicity of the murders he wasn't able to kill anyone's else so he calls his daughter Friday night."

"How does he know she's with Tatum?" Billy paced back and forth. "Neil's been stalking her because she's his next victim. He sees Syd leave his house with Tatum. Anyway he scares the shit out of his daughter Friday night laying low till Monday. Ghostface will make a guest appearance today to meet Syd. Himbry will have to close shop because of the killer. You'll tell everyone you're throwing a party to celebrate the break. Invite Syd and Tatum since Y/n is such good friends with them now she'll have to go with them."

It was like watching a genius at work. Stu really believed Billy could pull it off. "Neil kills Himbry. They went to school together back in the day it could be old revenge. At the party I'll take care of Tatum first but you'll have to send her to the garage and make sure no one goes with her." Billy looked at Stu waiting for him to promise to do his job. "Yes Sir." Billy looked at his boots piecing together the rest of the puzzle. "Neil kills Tatum after that I show up to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend. I'll take Syd up to your room that's where you'll have to "kill" me. You'll grab Sydney and bring her to the kitchen. We'll reveal everything blow her daddy's brains out and then Syd is the cherry on top of a really fucked up cake."

It was a good plan in Stu's eyes. "Where does that leave Y/n?" Billy smiled "She's going to rescue us. Neil's dead and so is his daughter. We've been stabbed left for dead but poor Y/n comes along and calls the cops helping us live to see another day. All we have to do is hit her hard enough to keep her out for awhile. Which means before I show up late I'll need you to get her alone in a room. I'll show up dressed in black and knock her unconscious. You'll go back to the party and I'll show up fashionably late."

"I could kiss you." Stu said happily throwing out his arms. "Don't make me stab you early." Billy threatened. Stu's smile dropped. "Now I'm going back to class I'll see Syd later today just keep being your bubbly self. You got that?" Stu nodded happy everything was going to work out after all.

"It was just some sick fuck having a laugh." Tatum tried to convince Sydney. "She's right Syd I mean those assholes were running up and down the hallways with masks." Sydney shook her head at you sure of what she saw. "It was him. I know it." You walked down the steps right next to your friends. "From now on you are not to be alone. You pee, I pee." Tatum added. Stu ran up spouting some gibberish giving you and the girls a flower. "Darling, I don't know what you did Sydney but on behalf of the entire student body we say thank you!"

Tatum tapped her boyfriend with the flower. "Stop it Stu." She gritted trying to tone down his behavior. "You know I say," He picked Tatum up throwing her over his shoulder. The very cute display made you advert your eyes. You didn't know why you were upset this is exactly what you asked him to do. But it still somehow felt he was going out of his way to upset you.

"Impromptu party tonight, my house. To celebrate this little scare storm, what do ya say?" You and Sydney kept walking while Stu trailed behind. "Are you serious?" Sydney questioned the insane kid. "Parents are out of town." He smacked Tatum's ass causing her to sqeek with a laugh. "If this little vixen doesn't invite the whole world we'll be fine. Mix in with the gathering, mix in with friends." He sat Tatum down letting her talk to Sydney.

You watched Stu trying hard to convince Sydney to go. "What do you say Syd? I mean Pathos could have it's perks. Y/n's never been to one of Stu's parties." Tatum said dragging you into it. "I don't really have party clothes plus what if the killer is there?" You questioned. "I'll totally protect you. Yo I am so buff, I got you covered girl." Tatum laughed at her boyfriend. Sydney whined not liking the idea at all. "I mean come on Syd. For me? It could be fun." Stu proceeded to kiss Tatum's neck bringing back all too fresh memories. "Okay, whatever." Tatum squealed.

"Nice!" Stu said "Make sure you girls bring some food when you come over." Stu left you and your friends to go run off somewhere. "I think I'm just going to head home for tonight." Sydney piped up. "No way. If I'm going you have to go." You threw your head back with a groan. "I don't even have clothes for a party." Tatum spun around. "Now that I can help with."

You raised your hand in protest. "You're not dressing me up like a prostitute." Sydney smiled knowing exactly how Tatum would've dressed you. "You're no fun." Tatum teased as you walked back to Dewy's car. Sydney looked at the ground while you and Tatum discussed what you'd wear. Something wasn't sitting right with her but she wasn't sure what it was.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 8

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant

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augustjustice · 10 months

Text

Got You By My Side

AO3 Link

Eddie is pulled from deep, dreamless darkness by the sound of a vaguely familiar voice, speaking slow and methodical in the distance.

“Then Frodo felt himself falling, and the roaring and confusion seemed to rise and engulf him together with his enemies. He heard and saw no more.”

More acutely than any of the countless times he’s read this book in the past, Eddie feels Frodo’s pain, the memory of those interdimensional monster bats screeching and clawing and flapping the last image he can conjure before that long, silent blackness overtook him.

The sweet, soothing voice lilts on, unspooling one of Eddie’s favorite stories with all the warmth of covering him in a fluffy blanket. “Frodo woke and found himself lying in bed. At first he thought that he had slept late, after a long unpleasant dream that still hovered on the edge of memory. Or perhaps he had been ill?”

In real time, Eddie blinks his eyes open, the white ceiling overhead spinning slightly before his vision clears. Tilting his head in the direction of the sound, Eddie finds Steve Harrington sitting in an uncomfortable looking hospital chair, the battle outfit Eddie last saw him in replaced by a long-sleeve blue Henley and light wash jeans, a worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring cracked open on his knee.

Fortunately, the memories of the past few days aren’t far from the edges of Eddie’s mind, or he might think he really was dreaming.

“Harrington?” Eddie manages to call groggily, Steve’s name cracking in the middle, and, Christ, his throat feels like someone fucked it raw with a sandpaper condom.

Beside him, Steve freezes, jerking his head up to blink at Eddie with wide, startled hazel eyes. Then he’s tossing the book aside, down onto the edge of Eddie’s bed as he launches himself out of the chair.

Eddie barely has time to register the movement before Steve is throwing an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“Eddie!” Steve is so close, face pressed into Eddie’s hair, that Eddie can feel it when his warm breath tickles his neck, like he’s letting out an exhale he’s been holding in for days. “You’re awake! And about time, too, dude. We thought–we thought we lost you.”

Maybe Eddie actually did die, because this kind of overly-affectionate response from Steve totally seems like something that would be conjured up in his own private fantasy land.

Turning on a dime, the sugar-coated reverie that seems straight from Eddie’s dreams is disrupted just as quickly and abruptly as being doused awake with cold water. Because Eddie has barely had time to register the arms around him before Steve jerks back just out of reach, smacks him once lightly on the shoulder, and demands, “What the hell was that, Munson?!”

“Ow,” Eddie whines, even though Steve has done little more than jostle him, “wasn’t being mauled by demo-bats enough, man?”

“Shit!” Steve swears, and the speed with which guilt mars his expression is genuinely impressive–if a little concerning. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures him automatically as Steve smooths a hand down his arm, brow furrowing with worry as he checks Eddie over. “Seriously, dude, I’m alright.”

Steve shoots him a deadpan look.

“Yeah, kinda think the doctor might disagree with you there, buddy.”

At the mention of doctors, Eddie stiffens automatically. Right, shit, he’s in a hospital. Hawkins Memorial, a public place, with people beyond the band of heroic saviors that have formed around him the past few days.

Doesn’t exactly seem like the safest place for a wanted man.

“Uh, Steve?” Steve looks at him in question. “Shouldn’t I be, like…making a break for it before, you know. The cops bust in here and haul my ass to jail?”

“Oh, that! No, dude, don’t worry,” Steve waves a dismissive hand, “you’re totally in the clear now. Hopper and the feds did their typical scary CIA shadowy cover-up deal, so you’re good to go. All the charges against you have been dropped.”

A long beat of silence falls over the room, Eddie trying to make sense of the sentence.

“...You’re talking about the late chief of police, right? That Jim Hopper.”

Steve scratches a finger over his sideburn, tilting his head to one side as though he’s only now registering the sheer absurdity of what he just said.

“Yeah, so, turns out…not as dead as we thought, apparently.”

“Okay, well…cool. Cool, cool, cool,” Eddie mutters to himself.

The last time he had seen the police chief, he’d been giving Eddie a fairly strong warning about local speed limits and not giving everyone on the road additional white hairs. He’s too afraid of the answer to ask if Hopper had come back from the dead or not.

Clearing his throat awkwardly helps Eddie register again just how damn dry it is.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the emotional whiplash of this reunion, man, but,” Eddie rubs a hand uselessly at his Adam’s apple, “I kinda think I might be dying of thirst here.”

Steve is up like a shot all over again, quickly filling a small paper cup with water from the sink in one corner of the room. As Eddie sits up to take the proffered drink from him, he can’t help but let out a pained hiss, his abdomen burning from the sudden shift in his position.

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, man!” Steve chides.

He does that a lot, Eddie has noticed, guiding the freshmen brats, even Eddie himself through battlefields and portals and the horrors of the Upside Down with a hand hovering near their backs as if he’s going to catch them if they fall, all the time tutting like a nervous mother hen.

It’s stupidly endearing, which is something Eddie never thought he would think.

“I promised Henderson I’d watch you like a hawk,” Steve says, pressing Eddie back into the pillows with a gentle hand, “so lay back and just let me help you, okay? Jesus.”

Eddie can’t quite suppress his grin at the way Steve fusses, tutting as he helps guide the small cup of water up to Eddie’s mouth, scolding him with a quick, “You’re gonna spill that if you’re not careful, Eds.”

If the Eddie of two weeks ago could see him now, he would not believe it.

As Eddie drains the cup eagerly, Steve absently tells him to wait right there and then disappears into the hallway.

Eddie snorts, even though there’s no one around to hear it.

Yeah. Like he’s going anywhere in the state he’s in.

When Steve gets back, he’s not alone, his boyish charm having apparently summoned a nurse from whatever front desk she was manning. Eddie puts on a brave face as she checks him over carefully–vitals, flashlights shined in his eyes, the works–and compliments his progress with a genuineness he definitely wasn’t expecting to find inside Hawkins city limits ever again.

Once she leaves again with a promise to send in the doctor as soon as possible, Steve is tugging the chair right back up to Eddie’s side, now turned around so he’s sitting in it backwards. He studies Eddie, wide brown eyes shining with genuine concern that makes something inside Eddie flutter, despite how desperately he tries to tamp down the feeling.

“How’re you feeling? Seriously?”

“Kinda like somebody ran me through a wood chipper,” Eddie admits, gesturing to the gauze bandages draped all up and down his body.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve actually looks apologetic, like he’s somehow responsible.

Ridiculous, the guy is ridiculous. Eddie can’t believe how wrong he was, that he really thought Steve was just some callous, arrogant rich kid, like…a week ago.

“Looks like you’re now an official member of the ‘Upside Down bat chow’ club.”

“Well, hey,” Eddie inclines his head towards Steve’s chest, “at least I’m in good company.”

Steve makes a noise of acknowledgment, tugging his Henley up just far enough for Eddie to see the contrast of white bandages against his tan bare skin. Eddie forces his eyes not to linger, breath hitching in a way that has nothing to do with pain.

“But, you know, maybe you wouldn’t be if you’d just listened to me,” Steve points out petulantly as he drops the hem of his shirt.

Spell broken, Eddie lets out a huff of laughter.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re kinda insufferable, Harrington?”

“Takes one to know one,” Steve shoots back easily before the stern edge seeps back into his voice. “I thought I told you not to be a hero, man. Why did you do that?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?” Eddie asks, sobering slightly. When Steve nods, he takes a deep breath and barrels on. “Well, I just asked myself, ‘What would Steve Harrington do?’ and even though I would have scoffed three days ago…seemed like the most obvious answer.”

Steve lets out a disbelieving noise, rolling his eyes, which startles another laugh out of Eddie.

“I’m serious, dude! You’ve got this whole…level twelve Barbarian, tearing into bats with your teeth th–” at Steve’s confused look, he amends, “I mean, uh this…badass, action hero at the end of the world thing going for you, and, when I realized you guys still needed a distraction, I just thought…I’d channel a little bit of that, overcome my own natural cowardly tendencies to run.”

“Man, I seriously can’t believe you,” Steve is shaking his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches forward, nudging Eddie’s leg gently. “I’ve got news for you, Eddie. Cowards? Don’t do that.”

Eddie shrugs sheepishly, tugging a strand of hair up to his mouth to chew on, not quite sure how to take the compliment.

Steve smiles at him a beat longer, not saying anything. Then, his eyes seem to cloud over, expression growing distant like he’s lost in thought.

Eddie fidgets, playing with his rings as one hand taps an uneven rhythm against the blanket, feeling pinned with Steve’s eyes still settled on him. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Earth to Stevie,” he waves a hand in front of Steve’s face, watches the way he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he had just slipped into, “where’d you go, man?”

Steve bites his lip, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed about being caught.

“Just thinking.”

Eddie leans towards Steve, eyebrows raised, expression expectant.

“...about?” he finally sing-songs, drawing the word out in a needling tone, not able to take the suspense a second longer.

“I ran, too, you know,” Steve says quietly, the mood in the room sobering immediately. At Eddie’s questioning look, he continues, “The first time, with Nancy and Jonathan. That thing came out of the walls, and Nancy told me to run–that’s what I was talking about, how she almost shot me that one time–and…I did. I ran. This shit is scary as hell, man.”

Eddie sucks in his bottom lip, mulling over Steve’s words.

“But…you came back,” he hedges, guessing, but based on everything he’s seen from Steve, he’d bet money he’s right. “I mean, total assumption on my part, but–”

He waves a hand in Steve’s direction, a silent here you are.

“Yeah, sure, I did. But so did you when it mattered. There–” Steve shoots Eddie a pained, apologetic look, “look, Eddie, with Chrissy…I know you don’t want to hear it, but there was nothing you could have done at that point. And if the cops had found you there, you probably would have ended up in jail. But you went back to distract the demo-bats. You kept them away from us when we were going after Vecna. So. Guess that makes you a hero, too.”

Steve huffs out a weak little laugh.

“Even though, like I just said, I explicitly told you not to be one.”

“What, you expect me to start taking orders now from Steve Harrington?” Eddie teases, eyes sparkling. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain, man.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, screw your reputation, no more pulling death-defying stunts like that, alright? Cuz I might not be around next time to pull you out of it. Besides, you’re way too important to the kids for that shit.”

“What, you want me to leave all the monster-hunting to the experts, Harrington?”

“No, dude,” Steve reaches over and shoves Eddie lightly, the movement careful, his hand big and warm where it wraps around Eddie’s shoulder, “I just don’t want you to die, okay?”

Those kind brown eyes are on him again, drinking Eddie in like Steve was afraid he might never see him again. It’s all too much, the feeling that this is all really just some fantasy come to life trickling in again, and Eddie has to avert his gaze, swiveling his head as he lets out a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle.

“Well, hey,” he deflects, sweeping a hand over the bandages covering his stomach and torso before tapping just below the mauled spot on his cheek, “At least I took the ‘don’t be cute’ part to heart, right, Harrington?”

Steve finally releases his shoulder, but his eyes are still trained on Eddie. Eddie thinks the scars are going to end up looking pretty badass, sure, but…there’s still an edge of insecurity lurking just below the surface of his bravado. He hopes Steve can’t see it, ferret out the cracks in his performance.

But he suspects he can.

They haven’t known each other long, not actually known each other, at least, but Eddie’s gathered in that short time, just from the easy way he fell into answering Eddie’s questions, anticipating what he needed to know, that Steve picks up on a lot more than most people give him credit for.

“Yeah, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, floppy waves falling across his forehead, “Pretty sure you’re literally incapable of not being cute, Munson.”

Something in Eddie’s chest seizes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Steve is totally flirting with him, even his faux-annoyed tone not seeming too far off the mark from a bit of pig-tail pulling.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Eddie quips back, because he’d started flirting with Steve in the Upside Down with all the devil-may-care gusto that came from knowing he might die tomorrow and now apparently he’s chronically incapable of stopping.

Steve has his arms crossed over the back of the chair, his chin propped up on them, looking irritatingly nonchalant and cool. Which…Eddie guesses is a lot better than looking like he’s seconds away from hauling off and punching him, but it’s still making him nervous.

He lifts one shoulder, a casual half-shrug, and then says, like he’s not tilting Eddie’s entire world on its axis, “Just the pretty ones.”

Eddie’s entire face heats up, flushing to the roots of his hair.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this flustered and tongue-tied. Probably not since Chrissy Cunningham deigned to smile at him, wide and sincere, at the middle school talent show, he realizes with a bittersweet pang.

“The rumors are true,” he manages to squeak out, “you’re a smooth talker, Harrington.”

Steve grins, wide and bright, looking inordinately pleased with himself. It’s the happiest Eddie thinks he’s seen him since this entire thing started.

“So they tell me,” he agrees, and then has the audacity to wink at Eddie, the bastard.

Eddie isn’t even sure where to go in the conversation from there. Usually, he’d like to think, he’s not too bad at this, can flirt and tease with the best of them. Hell, he has been flirting with Steve on and off for the past few days.

But that was before he lived, and before Steve, to Eddie’s complete confusion, started giving as good as he got, coming back with lines when previously he had been the one blushing and batting Eddie shyly away.

Fortunately, Steve cocks his head to one side, considering, and then breaks the silence for him.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft, “I was jealous of you, too.”

Eddie gawps at him like a fish, nearly as surprised as he had been by what seemed to be Steve’s undeniable flirting. When he manages to get some small semblance of control over himself again, he lets out a short, disbelieving bark of laughter.

“Steve Harrington, jealous? And of little ole me?” he presses a hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes briefly, a theatrical display to cover up the genuine shock still coursing through him. “Why the hell were you jealous, Harrington?”

The corners of Steve’s mouth turn upwards, a self-deprecating twist to them as he reaches up and runs a hand up through that infamous hair of his. Eddie tries not to let his train of thought get derailed wondering if those locks are as soft as they look, how they might feel running through Eddie’s own fingers.

“It’s gonna sound…so stupid. It’s just that…Henderson, you know, he’s a complete and total pain in my ass, but he’s also–he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a little brother. And, I don't know. I guess the kid did kind of have stars in his eyes around me when I first started looking out for him. Except, it didn't feel like it did when all those kids in high school wanted to hang around just because I was popular and I could get them status, or because I had a big empty house full of free booze. It felt like it…mattered.

“But after they started back to school this year and joined up with Hellfire, he and Sinclair and Wheeler, they just went on and on about you, man, how cool they all thought you were, how you ran their little fantasy board game or whatever and they were all super into it, and I guess I just started to worry I was being…replaced. Like they were all growing up, and they wouldn’t need me in their life now that they had found somebody better to look up to.

“And I started to remember how you were in school. You were just so–unapologetically yourself, like you never gave a shit what people thought about you. Back then, I could never do that, and I guess…I started to wish that I had. Been more like you, I mean,” Steve looks up at him then, with a soft smile that would have broken the hearts of a thousand Hankins High girls. "So, yeah. Guess I got a little jealous, Eddie. That I was being replaced by Eddie 'the Freak' Munson."

Steve winces a little on the name, looking sheepish.

"Except it turns out, Henderson was right all along. Eddie Munson? Actually a totally great guy," he claps a hand over Eddie’s knee, giving it a fond squeeze.

Eddie blinks at him, dumbfounded into silence.

“Come on, dude,” Steve says quietly, the tips of his ears going pink as he jostles Eddie’s leg lightly, “don’t just leave me hanging out on a limb here. Say something.”

“That–was the most surreal thing that’s happened to me this week. And,” Eddie holds up a finger, “I’d like to remind you, an interdimensional portal opened up in the ceiling of my trailer.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, nervous at the edges.

“It wasn’t that weird,” he protests.

“Oh, no, man, it totally was. You, Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, just admitted, out loud, that you wished you were more like me, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. That ranks in…at least the top ten weirdest moments of my entire life.”

Steve nudges Eddie again.

“Forget I said anything.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie tells him with a wide, dimpled grin. Then, he places his hand over Steve’s wrist, jostling him right back. “You come up with that pretty speech all by yourself, Steve?”

The smile Steve shoots him is lopsided.

"I had a little help from a friend."

"Oh, so," Eddie waves a hand between the two of them, "we're friends now?"

The glint in Steve’s eye turns mischievous. "Just think how much it will freak everyone in town out."

Eddie throws back his head, letting out a delighted cackle.

"Harrington, you’ve really got a way of persuading a man."

They grin at each other for a moment, soaking in their own giddiness. Eddie thinks dizzily that this must be karma’s way of paying him back for some of the worst of it, the past few days of vicious bats tearing into him and a mob on his heels. And some part of him thinks it almost makes up for it, the terror and the pain still radiating in his side, if it only means Steve Harrington’s going to keep smiling at him like that.

"Are you still jealous, Stevie?" he asks, and despite the goading edge to the words, his question is sincere.

"Nope,” Steve pops the ‘p’ with his lips, “Not anymore. If anything, it sounds kind of nice, having another pair of hands on deck to help corral those little runts when they get out of hand. It's like herding cats sometimes, I swear."

"Yeah," Eddie falters. Steve’s words concretize the promise of friendship he’s offering, conjuring up a real, solid image of that karmic more Eddie was just imagining. "I guess that doesn't sound too bad. But careful, Harrington. Might start to sound like we're married, or something."

Eddie recognizes the way Steve ducks his head, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks, from their conversation in the Upside Down woods, and he knows this time that he’s been the one to hit the head on the flirtatious nail.

“Speaking of, where are Henderson and the other munchkins, anyway?” he asks, momentarily steering the conversation back to safer waters. “Earlier, you said something about him forcing you to look after me?”

“Okay, first of all, I did not say forced,” Steve argues, his lips drawing down into that disgruntled, petulant frown Eddie has started to grow stupidly fond of. “But, Dustin…yeah, he’s alright. He was here ‘til visiting hours ended last night. Mrs. Henderson had to practically drag him away so he’d go home and get some rest.”

The memories come rushing back, Dustin limping to Eddie’s side to hold him in what he thought were going to be his final moments, and relief washes over him.

“Which is why I’m on babysitting duty today,” Steve adds.

“Well, that is your job now, right?” Eddie teases. “Babysitter extraordinaire.”

“Yeah, yeah. No TV after dinner unless you eat all your vegetables, Munson,” Steve wags a finger at him for the full effect, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “and don’t you forget it.”

“How ‘bout Team Kate Bush and the rest of the Vecna Slaying Squad…they alright?”

The way Steve’s face sobers immediately, mouth pulling into a taut, grim line is enough to make Eddie flinch in anticipation.

“I mean, everybody made it out in one piece, except…Max is in a coma. She’s a few doors down.”

Steve nods his head in the direction of Red’s room, and Eddie feels like he’s been doused in a bucket of cold water.

“Shit. Shit. Do they know when–?”

Steve shakes head, anticipating the end of Eddie’s sentence. He’s immensely grateful that he does, because he’s not sure he could have finished it.

“The doctors–they aren’t sure yet,” Steve admits, running a finger over his top lip, looking as tense as Eddie feels. “I checked in on her this morning, before I came down to sit with you, and she was…stable, pretty much the same as she has been. Lucas was there. I think he’d stay around the clock if they’d let him.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie notes softly.

The boys had told him, about Sinclair and the tough little red-head who lived just across the way, their on-again, off-again romance that was very much off by the time Eddie met them.

But he’d gotten to see it first hand, the last couple of days, the way the two were practically attached at the hip, circling around each other, getting closer and closer. He had to agree with the whispered, giggled assessment he’d overheard Nancy and Robin make during their impromptu RV road trip. They really were cute.

His chest panged at the thought of hard-headed, mouthy Max laid up in a hospital bed, silent and still. Eddie felt like he was too fucking young for this shit, so the fact that this band of brave, fresh-faced little sheepies had to deal with it? Was too unfair for words.

“But, hey. We already had one miracle today, right?” Steve pats a hand on Eddie’s leg. “You’re awake. So, who knows, maybe another one is…right around the corner.”

“You make…an excellent point, Harrington. Can’t stop believing in the impossible now,” Eddie reaches out, places a hand over Steve’s wrist for a second and squeezes. “Red’s steely. Way tougher than I am. Hopefully she’ll be back up and at ‘em in no time.”

The half-smile Steve gives him is a grateful one, and Eddie returns it easily, letting his fingers linger where they’re pressed into Steve’s warm skin, reveling in the fact that Steve seems no more eager to shake him off than Eddie is to pull away. Finally, he pulls his arm up and away, still tingling with the phantom sensation of holding onto Steve for even that one moment.

Steve’s lips part, like he’s about to say something…but then he’s snapping his fingers, a stricken expression coming over his face.

“Oh, shit, I meant to tell you already,” he runs a hand over his forehead, fingers combing up through his hair in a gesture that seems almost…sheepish, “Hop also promised the Feds were gonna loop your uncle in on…well, not everything, obviously, but on where you were, at least. I’m not sure when they’re gonna tell him. Soon, hopefully.”

At the mention of his uncle, Eddie’s heart gives a painful, hopeful little lurch in his chest.

“Christ, Uncle Wayne,” he mutters. Screwing his eyes shut as he buries his face in his hands for a moment, he feels like he’s taking that first desperate lungful of air you gulp down after you’ve been holding your breath for ages. “It’ll be…so fucking good to see him, man.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Steve agrees softly.

Eddie wonders if he just imagined it, that brief stiltedness in Steve’s voice, the stiffness of his posture, there and gone so quickly it’s impossible to tell.

“And Robin’s supposed to stop by later, her parents are gonna drop her off. She said she’d bring up some lunch. So pretty soon you’ll have more than just this handsome mug around for company,” Steve circles his face with a finger, an amused smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Aww, but I like that face of yours, Harrington,” Eddie needles, walking that exact same line between ribbing and flirtation. He’s pretty damn proud of the blush he manages to prompt across Steve’s cheeks. “Okay, so, Buckley and the shrimps are all accounted for, but…where’s Wheeler?”

Steve’s mouth draws downwards, brow furrowing.

“Oh, uh, which one? Mike, or–Nancy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and, he’s not proud to admit it, but a little ripple of envy washes over him. It’s that same spike of jealousy that had reared its ugly head in the Upside Down, when he tossed his vest to Steve to break up the burgeoning couple’s moment, stop their familiar, playful banter.

He’s the one that brought it up, but it still serves as a bracing reality check–Steve’s flirtation with him is probably little more than a distraction, something Hawkins’ resident Casanova in all likelihood doesn’t even realize he’s doing.

"Your betrothed, of course,” Eddie’s voice comes out sounding harsher than he means for it to, far more like it does when he’s pushing the buttons of the resident jocks from the top of a cafeteria table. “When's the wedding, by the way?"

Steve frown deepens, looking taken aback, like he’s been pushed off-kilter. And even though that’s usually the very reaction Eddie is looking for, in that moment, he feels kinda like he should apologize for being an asshole when Steve’s honestly been nothing but nice to him.

Steve doesn’t give him the chance.

“Nancy’s with Jonathan,” he says slowly.

Eddie wilts, feeling even guiltier than before.

“Hey, man,” he stretches his hand out uselessly, his instinct to reach out with another soothing touch even though he’s not sure he deserves to. Before he can make contact, he lets his fist drop to the thin mattress, holding himself back. “I’m sorry.”

The fucked up thing is, he means it. Steve’s a great guy, and even after only a few days of getting to know him, Eddie knows, deep down in his chest, that if anyone deserves to be happy? It’s him.

Steve shakes his head, and now he’s the one looking annoyed, and, maybe, just a tiny bit frustrated.

"No–no, dude,” he slashes his hands through the air, like he’s calling a…time out, or something, as if they’re in one of his sports games. “There's nothing to be sorry for. It isn't like that."

And even if he is trying to be less of a dick, Eddie can’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at that.

“Yeah, okay, Harrington,” he says doubtfully, “I mean, I saw the two of you down there. The looks you were giving each other–that’s the kind of stuff people write songs about, man.”

“You’re seriously not listening to what I’m saying, dude.” Chin propped up on his arm, Steve gives yet another exasperated roll of his big, far too pretty eyes. But then his expression smooths out, something contemplative in the line of his mouth. “I thought about it a lot, you know, what you said. What everyone was saying, really. About signs of true love and all that. And the thing is, diving down there after me–Nancy would have done that for any of us. Robin, the kids…she’d have done it for you.”

Eddie doesn't know how to describe it, the feeling that washes over him with the realization that Steve's "us" had included him.

"Me and Nance? We’re just friends, okay? That’s all we’ve been for a long time, now. And the idea that we should try and be anything more than that…chalk it up to temporary insanity caused by demo-bat bites and the threat of the world ending. Again."

Shocked and a little chastised by the revelation, all Eddie can manage to let out is a soft, “...Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve gives him a pointed look, like he’s been a total dumbass about things, which feels…pretty fair, if he’s being honest. “Oh.” Then, in an undertone that makes it seem like maybe he’s just talking to himself, he murmurs, "Besides, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even want kids."

"...What?" Eddie asks, wondering if whatever sweet, sweet pain reliever they've got him on means he missed a step in the conversation.

"Nevermind," Steve dismisses, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck as his eyes briefly dart toward the ceiling, avoiding Eddie’s gaze, “The point is…there’s nothing going on there. Really.”

“I–yeah, I, um. Got that. Now,” Eddie assures him. “That’s…good, Harrington. I mean, just so long as…you’re alright with it, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Honestly, I am. Things with Nancy…they didn’t work out for a reason. We just weren’t right for each other, in the long run. And I do still want to, you know…to find ‘the one,’ I guess. Somebody who really gets me, who just…fits,” he steeples his fingers together, imitating puzzle pieces interlocking, “slides right into place, kinda like they’ve been there the whole time. Like it was with Robin, and the kids–only romantic, this time, of course–but, like…that feeling you get when somebody comes into your life and…you honestly can’t even remember what it was like before, without them. Does-Does that make sense?”

The way his eyes dart over to Eddie, a spark of anxiety in them, it feels like…it matters, to Steve, that it does.

“No, yeah, I totally follow you, man. That all sounds…pretty awesome, honestly.” And even though Eddie has vocally branded himself as a cynic for years now when it comes to romance, it honestly does, making something flutter in his chest at the picture Steve has painted. He ducks his head, hiding behind the sweep of his bangs as he asks, “You, uh…you got anybody particular in mind to play the starring role in your future love life?”

When he risks a glance back up at Steve, he finds himself on the receiving end of that same look so familiar to the many swooning girls of Hawkins, a confident tilt to the pink curve of Steve’s lips, the glimmer in his dark eyes knowing but sweet.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think maybe I do,” Steve leans forward on the back of his chair, conspiratorial as he lowers his voice, “Now, all I gotta do is figure out if they’re interested too.”

Twisting a strand of hair absently around his finger, Eddie lets out a nervous giggle, the sound coming embarrassingly close to a titter. “Come on, man. You’re Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. It’s pretty much a guarantee with you.”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve snorts. Then, he bites his lip, expression tetchy with a new anxious, anticipatory sort of energy. “Hey, I’ve, uh…got something for you.”

The next moment, his face disappears. Eddie attempts to lean forward, see exactly what it is Steve’s doing, but the straining feeling in his stomach won’t let him. Accepting defeat, he contents himself with tugging on a loose string on the starch white hospital sheets, trying–and failing–not to wiggle in place impatiently.

When Steve pops back up again, he’s holding a plastic War Zone shopping bag Eddie can only assume was tucked somewhere beneath the chair he’s been sitting in. After plopping the item gently in Eddie’s lap, Steve reaches inside and pulls out one denim corner, tugging the piece of clothing out to show him.

It’s Eddie’s battle vest, the one he had abandoned in the RV when they marched off into their own real life battle.

“I haven’t had a chance to wash it,” Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly at the blood stains, left behind from his own scarring over bites, “I can do that for you, if you want. Before you get out of here.”

Eddie looks from the vest–outfitted with all his painstakingly selected pins and patches–to Steve, then back again. He remembers how Steve had looked in the darkness of the Upside Down, hair wild, open wounds and chest hair barely covered underneath the denim flaps. Like some otherworldly warrior.

“You can keep it,” he says, looking right at Steve as he nudges the bag in his direction, “it looks better on you anyway.”

“No, man, come on,” Steve argues weakly, once again demonstrating Eddie’s newfound ability to fluster the Steve Harrington, a skill he’s definitely planning to continue taking full advantage of, “it’s your thing, I-I can’t–”

“Hey, man, I’m serious,” Eddie catches Steve’s hand in his own, a gesture that might be a casual, jocular exchange except that Eddie keeps his grip firm, the touch lingering, “you keep it, Steve.”

He swipes his thumb once over Steve’s pulse point, a reflexive, absent movement that draws Steve’s gaze downward. When he pulls his hand back, the fizzle of energy remains in the air around them, electrifying.

Steve ducks his head, almost shy as he tucks the vest back into the bag.

“Alright,” he agrees quietly, “far be it from me to argue with the invalid.”

“That’s right,” Eddie crows, triumphant. He snaps his fingers in the air for emphasis, letting some of his showy, over-the-top dramatics come back into his demeanor to dispel the intensity of the moment. “Patient privilege, Harrington. Besides,” he shrugs, trying to maintain a cool, casual air so he won’t choke on his next words, “now you can wear it to Corroded Coffin’s next show.”

Cocking an eyebrow at Eddie, Steve lets a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “Oh, so I’m invited to see you play now, huh? Not afraid I’ll cramp your style?”

Eddie shakes his head, earnest. “Couldn’t possibly, Stevie boy. You’ll be the most metal person there, since I’m pretty sure no one else is gonna have ripped apart a bat with nothing but their teeth. Not unless Ozzy suddenly breaks down in the middle of Bumfuck, Indiana.”

Though Steve looks mostly bemused, there’s also a faint, pleased flush of pink dusting his cheeks. “You know I still have no idea who that is, right?”

“Oh, don’t worry, big boy,” Eddie gives his arm a quick pat. “As soon as I’m outta here, I’ll teach you.”

“Alright, Eds, you’re on,” Steve agrees, dipping his head, almost coy as he looks up at Eddie through his lashes, “It’s a date.”

Despite the casual way Steve threw out the offer, like it’s no big deal, Eddie’s pulse trips into double time, racing in his chest.

“Cool,” he says, dazed, and, embarrassingly enough, he has to clear his throat when his voice cracks a little, “yeah, okay, cool. It’s a date, then, Stevie.”

Fortunately, having Steve Harrington beam at him makes sounding like a complete idiot totally worth it.

They sit in the silence for a moment after, just smiling at each other dopily. If anyone else could see them right now, their respective reputations really would be in tatters.

Eddie thinks that’s alright with him.

Despite the giddy energy in the room, however, a wave of exhaustion washes over Eddie, like the adrenaline from everything has finally gone out of him. He yawns, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth to try and stifle it.

Steve shifts in his chair, alert as he scoots a little closer, that now familiar concerned look settling over his face.

“Tired?” he asks.

“More than I thought I was, I guess,” Eddie admits, albeit begrudgingly.

“Yeah, well, surviving heroic stunts will do that to you.”

“You’d know all about it, wouldn’t ya, Stevie?” Eddie yawns again, not bothering to hide it this time, just grimacing a little when the motion stretches his side. “Besides, think maybe you wore me out, big boy, with all this sparkling conversation.”

The tips of Steve’s ears tinge, pretty and red.

“Want me to keep reading to you instead?” he offers, picking up the paperback from the edge of the bed and waving it at Eddie.

In the name of pure, good old fashioned antagonism, Eddie can’t help but tease, "I didn't know you could read, Harrington.”

"Hey, butt head," Steve smacks half-heartedly at his leg with the paperback, "which one of us graduated, you or me?"

"Point taken," Eddie laughs, light and pleased with himself, "but who said I could read?"

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth twitching, like he’s fighting back a laugh of his own. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” Eddie sing-songs, parroting Steve from earlier. Then his eyes go round, inching forward on the bed excitedly. "Will you do the voices? Oh please please pretty please tell me you'll do the voices."

Steve’s face scrunches up, adorably lost. "What voices?"

Eddie slaps a hand to his forehead, flopping dramatically back onto the thin hospital mattress as best he can.

"What voices? ‘What voices,’ he says. Oh, Steven–"

"Steve," Steve corrects automatically.

"Steven," Eddie continues, ignoring him, "say it ain’t so."

“What?” he huffs, but a smile has crept back onto his face. “Stop speaking in riddles, dude, this isn’t one of your games.”

“The character voices, man! What else?”

“Oh, right, the character voices,” Steve repeats, deadpan. “Eddie, how the hell am I supposed to do some sort of voices for a book I’ve never even read before?”

“Steven,” Eddie says solemnly, ignoring Steve’s eye roll, “it’s simply not The Lord of the Rings if you’re not doing a full, dramatic reading of it.”

“Well, jeeze, teach me how to do them, then,” Steve challenges, flipping the paperback around to hand over to Eddie.

“Alrighty, big boy,” Eddie takes it, then pats the empty side of the mattress, “hop on up, and I will.”

Steve pauses, seeming surprised, and in that moment’s hesitation, Eddie wonders if he’s going to gently brush him off. But then he’s standing, rounding the bed to the side where Eddie’s palm is still resting, and gracefully sliding in beside him.

“This okay?” he asks, careful of Eddie’s side even as he wraps an arm around his shoulders to help get them comfortable, shifting close enough the book can rest open across both their laps.

“Mmm hmm,” Eddie hums, basking in the warmth that comes from having Steve pressed right against him, the clean scent of his cologne wafting through the air.

He gestures down to the paperback with a flourishing hand.

"Now, transfix me with your magnificent storytelling skills, oh brilliant wordsmith."

Steve shakes his head, letting out a snort of laughter this time.

"You are so weird."

“Aww, but you like it, Stevie boy.”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a shrug of one shoulder, so earnest and unabashed it nearly takes Eddie’s breath away, “I do.”

Steve begins to read again then, voice loud and clear. And as the pair of them giggle and bicker over the book, Eddie interjecting corrections in the form of line readings in his particular theatrical cadence and Steve’s own performance getting sillier and more over-the-top the longer it goes on, for the first time in more than a week, Eddie knows deep down in his gut…that everything is gonna turn out just fine.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my stuff #my things #my fic

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lidiasloca · 8 months

Text

delicately (cassian x reader)

summary: when cassian meets reader, he doesn't think past her privileged life. but what if there is more behind her appearance? what if, who she really is, is meant to meet with him on a cold night at the court of nightmares for a reason?

warnings: mentions of abuse.

(angst)

part one

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You enter the revel. Music vivid and people joyous. Not exactly how you are feeling.

Your dress is thigh enough that you have trouble breathing, and your heels are making your only task to be not trip over in front of everyone. Besides, of course, your life-long task; don’t embarrass your father, and don’t put shame on your good name’.

“Walk straighter,” your father tells you, walking next to you. You obey, of course, and say nothing. Like always. “Keir is expecting me to agree to some plans of his. While I am with him, you will stay in our table. Don’t go anywhere else, and talk to only those worth our time. Understood?”

You nod.

…

You suppose a revel could be considered fun, depending on who you asked. The ones dancing, for instance, seem to know how a good time looks like. Feels like.

But as you are siting silently on your chair, with no one else around the table, you know you aren’t one of those people. You are just people watching; at least that’s how you have always felt.

You were watching as your father shouted at your mother. You were watching as he insulted you. You were watching as he decided who you’d eventually marry. You were watching as he gave you orders on how to not do anything he wouldn’t do.

You always just watched.

A loud laugh makes you snap back to the present. A very loud laugh, one that feels genuine. You turn your head to find the General of the Night Court. ‘A bastard-born’, your father had told you. ‘We want nothing to do with him,’ he had ordered.

But he had said nothing about staring. And he is… well, worth staring.

The General is still laughing at what a beautiful blond girl is saying. You recognize her to be Morrigan, Keir’s daughter. She is wearing a beautiful red dress that… shows. You hate thinking like that, judging her -or any female- for the size of their cleavage, but your father had told you… No.

You weren’t your father.

Sick of this whole place and your own mind, you stand up and start walking to the closest terrace. Remembering his orders, you can only pray your father will take longer with Keir wherever they are.

After a minute of seeking and finding the crystal door, you are finally greeted with the cold chill of the night. And the terrace is deserted, thankfully.

You go to the railing and rest your hands atop the steel, sighing. You feel more calmed now; you don’t mind the loud music, or the laughter, or the drunken shouting, but… but sometimes it feels a bit too much when you’re not part of any of it.

“Are you not cold?”

You jump at the voice, which is deep enough that it comes across as scary, at least if you’re backwards to it. You turn to it and find in front of you the General of the Night Court’s armies.

‘A bastard-born nobody. We want nothing to do with him’.

No. “Who are you?” you ask.

The male grins. “You don’t know who I am?” At the obvious cockiness in his words, you smirk shyly, moving your gaze to the floor.

“I - I do.” You looked up again, meeting his hazel eyes. “But I don’t know your name,” you replied, mustering your tone to be flat, neutral, despite not feeling like that at all.

“Ah.” And then silence.

“Are you not going to tell me your name?”

“I asked you a question first,” he smiles, finding your confusion amusing. When you keep silent, he says. “I asked if you were cold, y/n?”

Oh. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, the sound so beautiful, so real. “Are you going to keep asking me questions before answering mine?” he jokes, shaking his head. “Didn’t your oh so rich and powerful father taught you manners?”

Taught you manners? Your father?

It’s a joke, you know it, but still… You turn to the railing again, needing suddenly something to hold you in place. He probably thinks you’re stupid, but you need to calm down, steady yourself from the memories that are appearing violently and uninvited into your mind.

“No. I’m sorry,” he tells you nervously, walking to your side. “I - sorry. I was joking. I didn’t mean it as an insult. At all.”

“I know,” you make yourself say, because you don’t want him to feel guilty, misinterpreting the situation. You definitely wouldn’t care if he talked badly about your father. You would most definitely join him.

“Oh, then what is it?”

You close your eyes against the now too cold air caressing your face. Goosebumps raise on your arms. You are cold.

“I am cold,” you finally answer his previous question, and it’s obvious for the two of you that you’re ignoring his new question.

But he lets it go. “And I am Cassian.” You move your eyes to stare at him, at how the moonlight makes the planes of his face look even more beautiful than the light of the revel did. “And I know your name because you’re quite a persona around here. Your - your father is- well, you must know who he is,” he smiles.

Oh, you indeed know who he is. You and your mother know exactly who he is.

Cassian must have seen the sadness in your eyes at the mention of him because he dares moving his hand to grab your wrist delicately. You look down to where his hand is now caressing yours, then look up when he whispers, “What is it with your father?”

“Nothing.”

You watch him watch you, his eyes assessing you. You can’t bare the intimacy of it all, the way he is reading you.

So you pretend. “You are a general, right, Cassian?” you ask him, smiling faintly.

He isn’t fooled, you know that, but at least, he plays along and returns your smile, this one less genuine. “A general?” he echoes. “Well, I’m the general and commander of the Night Court's armies, more precisely.”

You let out a laugh. Gods, he is a bit arrogant. You are to tell him so, but when you look up, your breath gets caught at the way his eyes are regarding you, as if in awe. At you?

“Are you blushing?” he teases. A bit, had you said? No, he is arrogant.

“I’m not.”

He raises one eyebrow, questioning. You turn your head to the night sky, denying him the sight of your reddened cheeks.

He chuckles, his hand moving from where he was holding your wrist up to your elbow. The caress he does across your arm makes you thank the cold for excusing the goosebumps.

“Then let me see, huh?” He pulls your arm carefully, lifting his other hand to place it on your chin. You chuckle as you resist from turning your face to him.

He laughs, taking a step to you to have the upper hand; now towering over you, Cassian turns your face as easy as breathing.

He hums with exaggerated satisfaction, then says, “liar.”

You don’t reply. Not when you’re so busy looking into his eyes, now very close to yours.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, touching the red there. “Is the cold the reason why you’re blushing?” he whispers to you. No need to raise his voice when you two are so close.

His eyes dart across every part of your face frantically, looking for your answer.

But your answer comes in form of a smile and the shake of your head.

He returns your smile. “Y/n?”

“Cassian?” you murmur.

He blinks before saying softly, “Would you-"

“Y/N!”

Father.

You quickly detach yourself from Cassian’s hold, turning to your clearly mad father, who is walking, almost running, to you.

At the sight, Cassian takes your hand again, protecting you, ready to strike if needed.

“Get away from her, you Illyrian brute!” your father shouts. You move your gaze to the general, and it breaks your heart the way he ducks his head slightly, in his eyes the weight of your father’s words.

“Father!” you bark.

But he ignores you, his eyes glaring to where Cassian hands hold yours tightly. “Stop touching her! Now!”

Cassian turns to you, silently asking. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Don’t want him to go. But your father… is better not to get him too mad. And he’s already bursting with rage.

And thinking about the consequences of this…

“Let go,” you manage to mumble weakly. And you see it in his face; you’ve hurt him. He thinks you don’t want your father to see you with him. You see it.

And when he lets go of your hand, you feel… something. Something stronger and more powerful than anything you've ever felt.

There’s a raw need to take his hand again, to follow the string between yours and his, that is getting longer with every step he takes away from you.

The string between you. The string.

Your… mate.

“Cassian” you whisper.

“Shut up!” Your father goes to grab your arm, pulling you to him. “We’re going home! Now!”

But you don’t stop. “Cassian!”

With tears in your eyes, you see him keep walking, only turning his head enough for you to make out his face profile in the obscurity, then he becomes just a silhouette in the night.

And you can do nothing as he walks away, disappearing into the dark.

You just watch.

(next part)

-Characters by Saraah J. Maas

A bit of cliché(ness) won’t hurt anybody :)). my head hurts like really bad after spending about 4 hours writing. absolutley worth it, though; i really like how this turned out. hope you liked it aswell. next thing i'll be writing will be for more than this series. k, that's it. thank you and bye bye :)).

#cassian x reader #cassian angst #cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar fic #cassian fanfic

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dazai-ritualist · 2 months

Text

SWAY WITH ME…

— a date with alastor didn’t go as he had planned… but, it wasn’t that bad after all…

hi!!! i saw this idea from @callmechito and, i didnt make the idea exactly the way specified. but, i really wanted to try :)!! it is late at night though, so i did not make it as long as i wanted it to be (sorry if it’s rushed!!)

acid rain. perhaps it would’ve been wiser to check the 666 news weather report before scheduling your date…

you stood by the window of your hotel room, wearing what you’d call your sunday’s bests. thousands of sinners’ skins burning on impact from the acidic rain pouring outside.

knock!

“s/o, are you decent? may i come in?” a static voice came from the other side of the door. “uuh, yeah! come in” you called back to him as he gently opened the door.

and on the other side of the door, you saw a different side of alastor that had never been seen before; a smitten yet small smile drawn on his face, wearing a red coat, as per usual (though this time, his coat is not tattered), and his big doe eyes shyly looking at the outfit you’d chosen for your proposed date.

alastor let out a quiet sigh, an overwhelming feeling filling his chest, making it hard to breath. “my dear! well, aren’t you stunning? i might just drop dead right now, haha!” alastor laughed, a laugh track joining along. “haha… it’s a shame that we have to cancel our date…” you smiled bittersweetly, quite honestly looking forward to the date. it must have been a millennia since your last date, not to mention how it is with alastor, hell’s most eligible bachelors if i do say so myself…

“well, who said we had to cancel our date?” he tilted his head. “i’d think the rain outside would speak for itself…” you muttered out. “we could just have our date here at the hotel! we could simply move the date to my hotel room, would you like that?” his fingers tapped against his staff.

“su-“”brilliant! let’s make haste now!” he smiled gleefully, taking his hand in yours and shadow teleporting you to his hotel room— the warm red tones of the hotel harshly contrasting with the cool blue and green tones of the forest on the other side.

alastor took your fingers in his hand and gently guided you to a table with two seats. he pulled one out and helped you into the chair. “just sit tight now, darling. i’ll have niffty whip something up for us.” he smiled before leaving the room.

minutes later, alastor came back— two delectable dishes in hand. he placed one in front of you before sitting down himself and digging in.

the two of you had spent your dinner getting to know each other better (more like just him getting to know you better…), talking about whatever came to mind.

not for one second had you ever doubted alastor tonight. everything coming from his beautifully thin lips had sounded as genuine as ever.

after dinner had ended, you wiped your mouth with the napkin on your lap. “alastor, i had a really good time…” you grinned awkwardly, blood rushing to your face. “i think i must go now, i have a busy day tomorrow…” you frowned slightly before standing up to leave.

“nonsense! come, dance with me for a while, would you?” he teasingly pleaded, placing a hand on your shoulder. you hesitated for a while, considering the consequences of staying up an extra few minutes. “ahh… i guess it couldn’t hurt..” you smiled as alastor walked to his vinyl record played, placing the needle onto the grooves of the CD.

as alastor placed a hand on your shoulder and hip, sway by michael bublé began playing. you copied his actions, placing your own hands on his hip and shoulder as the two of you began dancing to the soft music, alastor’s soft voice singing along to the tune.

you soaked in the soft sight of the scary radio demon, as docile as a doe. you rested the side of your head against alastor’s chest, feeling every vibration as he sang. alastor sighed softly, all of this simply being too much for him to act calmly.

all of these emotions were too much, alastor needed a way to release them… he took his hand off of your shoulder before gently gripping your chin. he leaned down a bit before kissing you.

his lips smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip snaking up to cup your cheek.

the kiss lasted quite long before he finally pulled away, a proud yet mischievous grin decorating his handsome face.

alastor leaned down, his mouth hovering over your ear. “would you like to know something, gorgeous?” he whispered, the hand on your chin resting once more on your shoulder. “i’d say i’m the luckiest man in hell right now, on a date with a treasure like you. i might just die, again!” he laughed. though, despite his joke— when he had said that, the radio filter on his voice was gone, letting you hear his true voice.

you looked up to meet his careful gaze as you grinned lovingly “i had a marvelous time with you… you make me happy that… im in hell.” you laughed.

as the song stopped, alastor paused, thinking to himself quietly. he dropped your hand before cupping your back. “you said you must leave, didn’t you? i wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re groggy in the morning!” he smiled, walking you over to your hotel room, just a few ways down.

“i did have an amazing night with you, my dear. i hope we could do this again, perhaps again during an acid rain shower?” he teased while laughing. a calm composure remaining on his face.

and despite that poker face, he was in the best terms; burning on the inside out. his longing for you filling all of his senses. he must stay gentlemanly though… so, for now, he’ll cherish the beautiful date he had with you tonight.

#i added so many fandom references in here lol…#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hasbin alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor

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ourmadmusings · 11 months

Text

a/n: bc anon asked for a part three, and im super cheesed about it. I wasn’t gonna post it until tomorrow, but what can I say, im a generous god.

Take me far enough to say we’ve gone -

Miguel O’Hara was also a nervous man, as it turned out. He was nervous for you, afraid of what the light in his chest had to offer when he saw you return from a successful trail-run. His bluff was called, it seemed, and you passed with flying colors, earning a wide smile from Peter B. as he dropped you off, once again in O’Hara’s main quarters. The heavy glow from all of his screens casts him in an ever-intimidating light, that seems to be his theme with you. Scary. He’d watched you with rapt attention on your little assignment, not sure why he’d anticipated the worst to happen to you - worst-case was Peter stepped in and bailed you out, but he’d informed Miguel that he hadn’t even needed to give any advice, a silent watcher, only coming down from his perch on a near building to show you how to activate the force-field device and ring in for a transfer. “Well, looks like you’ve earned a permanent position amongst our ranks, huh?” He’s mumbling a little, he seems a little deflated as he says it. “Isn’t that a good thing?” You’re raising a brow behind your ever-present mask, nary a ding on your suit. He can tell how much confidence the mission had given you, your shoulders not tilting inwards like they had the last few times he’d loomed over you. Your back was straight, and your hands pressed firmly on your hips in the shared stance every spider-person adopts when they know they’ve done well. “Of course it is, but these missions aren’t always gonna be so easy, kid.” He mirrors you, standing up straight, leaning down slightly to make his point, “there’s gonna be a mission for each of us that we can’t come back from, you know that, right?” It’s almost threatening, the way his red eyes bore into your white eye-covers. He watches your chest deflate a little at the comment, a pang of remorse runs through him for saying it in such a harsh way. Truly, he just wanted you to be aware of the risks here, the sacrifice that you may be called to make one day. Each of them was expected to lay their life down for the greater good, and he wasn’t exempt from that, either. In his mind, he was offering you an out, a second chance to save your own hide if that’s what you really wanted, before taking on such a lofty responsibility. You jump a little when you hear the door slide open behind you, “jeez, Miguel, as pleasant as ever, aren’t’ya?” It’s the Peter that came with you, “Mayday is asleep-” who? “-Why d’ya always try to scare the new kids, don’t you think she’s proved herself enough?” He looks at you with a warm smile, the kind a father would wear as their kid rounded home for the first time, “I think you killed it, kiddo, don’t let him take the wind from yer sails. I was impressed,” you feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant praise and mumble a sweet thank-you, absent-mindedly kicking a pretend pebble as he claps a warm hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, “why don’t you take your mask off and breathe a little, huh? It must feel terrible in there after the long day,” you can tell he’s being genuine when he asks, bending down to stare right into your mask with a slight tilt of the head, but you can’t help the itch on your forehead when the mask isn’t there, especially thinking about having to make direct eye contact with O’Hara. He cuts in, “she says she’s more comfortable with it on, Peter.” “Well, that sounds like a lie, she’s probably just terrified of you, chief. Especially when you go around making threats like that on a debrief.” They carry on like you’re not standing right there. “It’s not my fault if I want them to be aware of the risks, Pete.” How informal of him, using a pet-name, you think. “Yeah, well, the least you can do is thank’em for once. Not everything has to be so life and death. It’s no wonder our turnover is so bad, I have to wonder what our unemployment payout looks like.” They’re not stopping, you really consider making a quick escape while the two men, obviously very good friends based on Peter’s razzing, carry on talking over your head. “I want to think you’re joking but-” “Tax fraud is no joke, ‘El, you know that.” You’re…Uncomfortable now, he was right, your mask was kind of stifling after working so hard to have a no-loss mission, there’s still sweat dripping down the back of your neck as the two of them chirp on and on, back and forth. The heat from all the monitors has your vision swimming a little and you start to get a light headed trying to keep up, eventually heaving a heavy sigh of your own. A small, shaking hand makes quick work as you tilt your head down, hair messy as you shake your head, finally getting a good breath of fresh air from outside your protection. Both men stop mid-sentence and stare. Peter is the first to speak up, not missing a beat but teasing as ever, “there she is, as pretty as ever,” he’s smiling-still. “Feels better, right? Don’t worry about it, we all know how to keep a secret kid, you’re safe here, with us.” O’Hara just lets a heavy breath fall from his nose and turns away from the two of you, “I have work to finish, Peter, can you get some food for the two of you, please? Consider it a celebration, since you’re so keen on rewarding everyone for just doing their damn job.” Peter mumbles something as he steps behind you, guiding you with hands on your shoulders, pushing you a little from your spot in the middle, “yeah, yeah, come on.” His head snakes around to smile at you again, “not to brag, but the food here is amazing.”

It’s quiet after you leave and let the door slide shut, Miguel takes a shaky breath in, and out. He couldn’t help the pang of...jealously? Remorse, maybe, that he couldn’t be the one to tell you that you were safe with them, reassure you, tease you the way Peter was so confident in doing. The way your rosy cheeks looked so pretty, like Pete had said, plays over in his head time and time again for much longer than he’s proud of. He wanted you to know you were safe with him. At the end of it all, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He’d seen you on his monitors for weeks before calling you to help them, walking around your New York in your street clothes. When Jess had caught him staring at you with such a heavy scowl, he’d said he just wanted to make sure you were keeping it above the wire, doing his due diligence to make sure he wasn’t hiring some loose-lipped kid. She only smiled at her feet, seeing right through his little lie.

He was even more curt with you after you became comfortable enough to venture the halls without your mask, usually late at night when you knew less folks were around, but pluck his eyes from his skull before he admitted to the dull ache his ability to give you comfort enough to be maskless gave. He really did try to be more inviting with you, even briefly considering taking you on a more risky mission with himself and Jess. Of course, the anxiety that bubbled dashed any hope of one-on-one time in the field. He’d ask you about your canon events, trying to find a way to connect with you. However tight-lipped he was, you were moreso. Mumbling a quiet affirmative or negative, then steering the conversation back to work, against his best efforts. He thought it must feel that way with him, sometimes, when folks try to talk with him. He found himself missing your wry jokes, not as jovial as the run-of-the-mill spider, still keeping a shred perspective on your life of sacrifice. He, of course, knew all of your canon events, he could lay them out by dates and times if he wanted, he’d spent more time than he’d ever admit to on his little…Obsession with you. It worried him, how fond of your company he’d become in the short time you were helping him. He was really trying to connect, honestly, but every time it felt like he was putting his hand on a hot-plate, and every time he was reminded of what his job meant - sacrifice. And God himself couldn’t convince him of the idea of sacrificing you for this chosen life. He, as a result, decided to pull back. Treat this as a little passing fancy, maybe you just reminded him of being young again, careless, caution to the wind and so on.

Months trickled by, trying his best to get you to smile at him despite his resolve to let it all go, to hear your laugh at least once was all he needed to get through his day, it seemed. He was embarrassed, in all reality, he was still technically your boss, no matter how informal that seemed in the walls of the citadel. “-well, at least that’s what I thought, but Hobie said she was quite the up-and-comer.” He tried to listen to you, but the way you licked your lips made his skin tingle, “I may swing by and meet her, he seems super excited.” You’re leaning over his desk while you talk, Miguel had lost the plot, though. “As excited as someone like him can be, y’know.” “Yeah, send out the welcome wagon, no?” He smiles a little, typing away at some code that needed fixing. “Ha - well, it’s not like you’re one to do it, you’ll scare her off like a wolf would a hare.” You’re staring at the screen when his fingers stop, hovering over the keys like he’d lost his train of thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to face you, eyeing you with a heavy scrutiny, as he was wont to do. “No, nothing bad, I guess. You’re just so dramatic sometimes, it’s weird until you get to know ya’.” There’s a chuckle hidden between the words spilling from your mouth, he wonders if you realize how much he loves when you tease him. It makes him feel more human, less isolated. “I’m just making sure they all kn-” “-All know the risks involved, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I think you’re just pretending so no one knows you’re a big softy.” His fingers haven't moved from above the keys. He leans back in his chair, his straight back finally relaxing a little, “and where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like that, kid?” There’s a stark lack of actual annoyance in his voice, a few months ago, you’d think he was actually offended you’d speak to him that way, but the keen look in his red eyes betrays him these days. “I think Peter is starting to rub off on you.” You laugh a little and smack his shoulder, “someone’s gotta keep you in check around here, right? He can’t shoulder all the burden of your grumpy ass!” You’re smiling down at him, having moved at some point to lean closer. He feels the tips of his ears heat up a little. “Yeah, well, tell anyone and I’ll have to do somethin’ about it, kid.” You’re a little surprised at him, in the best way. He’s got a full smile, just like the one he wore when you told him about the dryer sheet below your mask, your cheeks heat up and you move to hop off the platform, “hey” a finger pokes at his shoulder - “don’t start writin’ checks there, boss, or I’ll have to ask you to cash’em some day.” You don’t turn around to face him as you continue, “it’s our secret, I guess. For now, at least.” You pull your mask back over your head as you walk out the heavy door.

He groans a little as the door slides shut, leaving him in the soft hum of all of his monitors - he doesn’t finish the line of code before he shoves himself away from his desk and starts the long trek back to his own private room for the night.

a/n: big man said feelings are for dummys. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 4-

#across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #pt 3

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drdemonprince · 17 days

Note

don’t know if this is relevant to your ask box, but I thought you might find it interesting.

I’m a 20 yr old trans man who’s just started an ongoing thing with a new Dom, who is over twice my age. I’m currently finishing up my second year at uni, and he’s, you guessed it, also the, uh…. academic sort.

He’s a busy guy so obviously we can only meet up every once and a while, but we text almost every day. From the beginning he was always curious about my school endeavours, but recently it’s become more of a thing.

He won’t let us meet until certain assignments are done. He’s flexible and understanding, like any good dom, but holy shit this man had me at a cafe for ten hours on 40mg of vyvanse writing my final essay like my life depended on it. I didn’t even know who I was, motivated by the pure need to please and, quite frankly, desperate desire to be absolutely taken and used. This man has “cured” my ADHD (not really, but damn well is he fucking helping it).

I think the point I’m getting at here it that I can’t believe it took the motivation of my D/s relationship to get me to get shit done. Like, I’m done DAYS before the deadline for things I usually would have left last minute. I’ve been honest with my struggles with motivation and difficulties taking care of myself, and he is genuinely invested in my well-being so I know it all comes from a place of care and respect.

At the moment I’m working on my final short film for a class, and he told me to make a list of all the foley sounds I thought would help drive the narrative (he knows I love making lists, it’s also the autism), and as probably one of the best rewards for my good behaviour, he shared with me a collection of audio files (he dabbles in audio mixing) that were relevant to the list I shared. Can you believe this??!!

All these studentxprof fics are getting it wrong. Sometimes nothing comes between a teacher’s genuinely investment in student learning (if they enjoy what they do, like he does) and that is absolutely true in this case. Absolutely unbelievable this is my life right now. Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

This sounds so fucking sweet and HOT anon! I'm so glad you're having an exciting time with an older dom who cares about you and helps you meet your goals! And the phrasing of this guy making you write for hours on vyvanse is especially titilating...making it sound like an intox scene omg drool

ADHDers are generally very socially motivated, which is not rare for human beings at all. It makes sense that having the external structure that an outside observe can provide and the sense that your actions actually matter to other people and that people care about you would help facilitate you focusing on shit and getting organized! Not to mention how much fuckin easier it is to perform any kind of household task or bit of drudgery once it becomes sexual service. Shit gives boring regular life a charge of excitement, and the abdication of power gives you the discipline to actually follow through, because you're not the only one on the hook for everything and that's less scary!

I have nothing much more to say other than this rules and I hope you keep having a fun time!

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wonderatmywoman · 6 months

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Things I love about Nerdy Prudes Must Die now that I've finally finished my proshot watch

Angela, literally everything she does in this show. She's fucking hilarious, her line delivery and facial expressions are incredible and she looks so insane and evil at the end. She's just amazing

The songs. They're so catchy and we know Jeff can write some absolute bangers, but to get so many in one show? They're all great

Speaking of songs, Joey and Mariah sound so good together when they're singing If I Loved You (idk if that's the name but you know which one I mean)

Will Branner is so good as Max. He reminded me of Jim Carrey several times. I love the way he delivers all of his lines and his voice is gorgeous

Bryce Charles in her solo as the reporter??? Holy shit what an incredible voice!

Lauren Lopez, love of my life, never fails to turn on an amazing performance. I love Ruth very much and to keep that voice going the whole time is impressive

Jon's 'I'm not a loser' in Nerdy Prudes Must Die is so pure and gorgeous

Jon overall was great, I loved his portrayal of Richie and he's genuinely quite scary as Wiggly

Dirty Girl Soup - just the phrase is ridiculous and I love it

Great performance from Mariah, I love her voice, especially when she hits those lower notes it's so beautiful

Wonderful from Joey, he was definitely giving me Scrags vibes as Peter

Curt, Kim and Corey were excellent as well even though they all had smaller roles. I adore evil Corey so much, he should be a villain more often

Costuming was On Point, everyone looks amazing

'Beans cool? Excellent' did I just step into Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure??

I got kinda carried away and as you can probably tell, I loved everything about this show. I bought a digital ticket (worth it just for Angela falling off the chair and everyone breaking tbh) but it didn't really hit then for a number of reasons but this proshot is so fucking good

#posts from moi #starkid #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #lauren lopez #joey richter #angela giarratana #mariah rose faith #npmd spoilers

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abeautylives · 28 days

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Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam gvf #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fan fiction #jake gvf #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction

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themidnightghoul · 2 months

Text

Movie Night

Dew wants to braid Phantom’s hair for completely innocent reasons. Phantom is excited to watch the new scary movie they’ve been wanting to see and letting Dew play with their hair. Dew absolutely does not have an ulterior motive whatsoever and they watch a movie together. That’s all.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2341 CW: Breeding talk

Authors Note: This started off as a ficlet when @forest-rot said something about braiding hair and I got an idea. Then it evolved into…this. And by very pretty request, @sexy-sea-basss here is what I was working on, sweetheart 😘

Read below or on AO3 (coming soon)!

“You wanna braid my hair?” Phantom tilted their head, confused. Dew had to exhibit a ridiculous amount of control not to throw the little Quint over his shoulder and lock them in his room for a week. Something about their innocence just absolutely wrecked Dew and it drove him insane when they did things like tilt their head like that.

“Yeah, just, you know, if you want.” Dew shrugged, stammered his way through his words. He couldn’t think of an easy way to explain exactly why he wanted to braid their hair. At the moment, he genuinely did just want to play with their hair, run his fingers through the numerous layers. He loved the stark white chunk at the front, a beautiful contrast to the inky black and shimmery purple of the rest of their hair. He loved the way the layers that Aurora had cut into it curled after they washed it. He loved holding on to it as he-

“I’d love that, Dewy. Can we do it in my room? We can watch this new horror movie I’ve been waiting to see!” Phantom’s eyes lit up and Dew felt his heart flutter. Phantom was just so fucking cute and it drove him crazy.

“Sure, Baby Bat.” They stood from the sofa and made their way to Phantom’s room, the little Bug excitedly rambling on about the movie they wanted to watch. All Dew could think about was what he wanted to do after he braided their hair and he had to shift his walk a few times, trying to hide a different kind of excitement than the one Phantom currently had.

When they stepped in to Phantom’s room, they immediately flipped on their LED strip lights, changing the color to a dim purple color, and hopped on the bed, grabbing the TV remote and looking for whatever movie it was they wanted to watch. “Come, sit.” They tapped the spot next to them and Dew felt his stomach flip. Something in the way they said that just…did something to him.

Dew sat and immediately pulled them back into his lap. His fingers pulled through the strands to dislodge any tangles, rubbed gently over his scalp. The movie started, something about a haunted pool, and Phantom leaned back into Dew, a soft purr kicking up in their chest the more relaxed they got. Dew had gotten quite good at braiding, having practiced on himself for when he needed it up during shows and no one was able to help him, and he was able to work fairly quickly most of the time. But with Phantom, he slowed himself down, allowed himself to take his time and make sure they were nice and relaxed, their focus more on the movie than Dew.

One braid in and Phantom’s purring had gotten louder. Occasionally, they would jump a little at a particularly loud part of the movie and Dew would chuckle, gently rubbing their back and kissing the top of their head until they settled again. When he finished the second braid and tied it off, he put his arms around them and just held them as they watched the movie together. He tried to focus, really he did, but all he could think about was tugging on the now finished braids and how beautiful the sounds that they would make would be when he did. Thankfully, it seemed like they were too focused on the movie to notice Dew shifting around in an attempt to relieve the pressure on his increasingly aching cock. The more he thought about it, the worse it got. Eventually, Dew began to play with Phantom’s hands, kissing his way down from the top of their head to their face. Phantom’s purrs became soft whines, torn between wanting to watch the movie and focusing on Dew.

“Just watch the movie, Bug,” Dew whispered in their ear, gently nipping their earlobe and chuckling when they shifted their body against him in search of more contact. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” He ran his hands up and down their chest, sliding under their shirt and dragging his claws across their skin, smiling at their full body shiver as he touched them.

“Off, please Dew,” they whined, raising their arms for Dew to remove their shirt.

He couldn’t help but groan at how easy they were making this as he slid off the shirt and threw it to the side. Slowly, he kissed and nipped his way down their neck, biting just enough at their shoulder to leave a mark, and shifted his way to their front. He propped himself up on his arms and kissed each of the scars on their chest, let his tongue trace the beautiful white patches that decorated their body. “Like my own personal galaxy, you are.” He kept his focus on Phantom’s reactions to his attention and how desperately they tried to remain focused on the movie. “Doing such a good job. You enjoying the movie?”

Phantom whined louder, their hands running up and down Dew’s back. “Dewey I can’t-“

“Good boys watch the movie like they were told to do,” he whispered against their chest and reached up to tug on one of the braids, chuckling when they arched their body against him. Their response to the tug gave Dew an idea and he sat up, moving back behind them and tapping their back. “Lean forward, on all fours.”

Phantom immediately sat up and leaned forward on their arms, their tail flicking around excitedly. Dew drug his claws down their back, reveling in the way their skin broke out in goosebumps where he touched. He tugged down their sweatpants and boxers, dragging his claws the rest of the way down the curve of their ass, over their beautiful thighs that he leaned in and nipped at, causing Phantom to let out the sweetest moan. He sat up and used one hand to trail up the scratch marks on their back, the other sliding between their legs and loudly groaning at how wet they were.

“Someone’s excited, hmm?” He slowly moved his fingers through their folds, chuckling at how easily they writhed under his touch.

They tried to push back onto his fingers and he immediately withdrew, tutting disappointedly when they whined. “Dewy please.” Their voice was so sweet, so needy, and it sent Dew’s mind into a frenzy. He almost gave in right then and there, if he was being honest with himself.

“Tell me what’s going on in the movie like a good Bug and I’ll give you what you want.” He let his hand hover back where they wanted it most, leaving featherlight touches across their skin with one hand and kneading their thigh with the other. Their frustration was palpable and it only served to drive him more insane with need. He moved his hands away and popped the button on his jeans, pulling them down just enough to relieve the pressure on his aching cock. When that wasn’t enough, he grunted in frustration and pulled himself out fully, giving himself a few lazy strokes.

“Something is in the water…” they whined, their legs shaking as they tried to hold still. “The dad is s-sick, fuck Dew please.” They turned around to look back at Dew with tears in their eyes and when Dew pulled his hand away and licked the slick he had gathered on his fingers off, Phantom fell face first into the bed and whined so loud Dew was sure their throat would hurt.

Dew reached down and grabbed both braids, tugging on them to pull their head back. “Ah ah, you’re not hiding those beautiful sounds, Baby Bat. I want to hear every noise you make, you understand?”

Phantom’s body sagged a bit and they let out another whine. “Yes, yes Dew, please will you touch me again? I need it so much.”

He let go of one of the braids and brought his hand to their mouth. “Spit.” Immediately, they spit into his hand and he swore he could feel their excitement pulsing through the air. “Such an eager little Bug aren’t you? Fuck you’re so cute.” He ran his spit covered hand up and down his length, hissing at the feeling, and slowly guided it to Phantom’s entrance. Running it up and down their slick covered folds, he tugged on the braid he still had in his hand. “Color, baby?”

“Green green green, please Dew I’m so green.”

Chuckling, he tugged once again. “Good boy, using your words for me.” He pushed the head of his cock against them and left it there for a moment, testing the little Quint’s resolve. When they didn’t move, even though Dew could tell they were desperate to push back, he finally slid in with a loud groan that he was sure the entire den would be able to hear. “Fuck, baby, how are you so wet already? I’ve barely even touched you.”

Phantom could only make unintelligible noises in response. Dew knew that praise was one of the things that they got off on the most and he couldn’t help but take advantage of them already being most of the way to being fucked completely stupid. He gripped their hip hard enough to bruise with one hand and slowly started moving, gathering both braids in the other hand in order to keep them from falling into the bed as he slid in and out of his sweet little Ghoul.

“Satanas you’re taking me so well, such a-agh- such a good fucking boy, aren’t you?” He could feel the familiar coil in his abdomen tightening, faster than he wanted it to, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. “So fucking tight, baby. Fuck you’re so-” Phantom clenched and Dew saw stars, his head falling back as a wanton moan escaped his lips. The control he normally exerted had slipped and he couldn’t stop himself from pounding relentlessly into them, his movements getting harder and faster the more he let himself go. He could feel his knot beginning to swell as he fucked into Phantom and by the sounds they made, they could feel the base of it pressing against them.

“D-dew I’m c-close please-“ a high pitched moan filled the room as Dew nailed the sweet spot inside of Phantom and he could tell that they were about to completely fall apart. The swell of pride that rushed through Dew’s body knowing that he was the one to make them feel this way had him slamming his hips against the whimpering Quint even harder.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He tugged on their braids again, his other hand smacking down on their ass hard enough to leave a mark. “You gonna come for me, Starshine?”

Phantom could only whine and nod as they shifted their hips the slightest bit to get Dew to hit the same spot again. “Y-yes!”

“That’s right, good boy, come on my cock. You can do it, baby.”

“Knot…please…” Phantom’s words were slurred but they were begging so sweetly and how was Dew supposed to deny them when they asked so politely?

“You want to take my knot, baby? Want me to fill you up until you’re leaking all around my cock?” He snapped his hips forward, his knot swelling even more at the idea of being locked inside of his pretty Quint. “Fill you up so good-“ he grunted, pushing a little more and pulling a soundless scream from their lips. “See if you catch, yeah?” Dew ran his hand down their hip to their stomach, pulling them up until their back was against his chest. “Want to see this belly full of my kits. Would you like that, baby? Want to carry my kits for me?”

Dew felt Phantom clench one final time before they came with a shout, his name on their lips. As they shuddered, Dew worked them through their orgasm, holding them up as their legs shook. He pulled the shaking Ghoul down on to his knot as it finally popped, locking them together and coming as his hand squeezed their throat. The sensation of filling Phantom was enough to make him come harder than he had in a long time and the idea of them carrying his kits? It had him weakly thrusting against them, desperately trying to keep as much of his come inside as possible.

Slowly, the two Ghouls came back down from their high and Dew lowered the drooling Quint to the bed. He gently brushed their hair out of their face, kissing their cheeks and nuzzling his face against their neck. “You okay, Starshine?” He kept his voice soft and smiled when Phantom started to purr and snuggled back against Dew.

“Never better, Dewey.” They ran their hand across their stomach almost absentmindedly.

“I can hear that brain working overtime, Baby Bat. Talk to me?” He put his hand over theirs, lacing their fingers together.

“Did you mean it?” It was almost a whisper but Dew knew exactly what they had said.

He was quiet for a moment before he pulled them against him hard and hummed, nodding his head against them. “Yeah, baby, ‘course I did. But only if you wanted me to mean it.” Phantom was snoring softly before Dew had even finished talking. He smiled, rubbed his hand across their stomach again, and laid beside them as he waited for his knot to go down. When he was able to pull himself out, he quickly cleaned up the sleeping Ghoul and put their sweatpants back on, covering them up with their bat blanket. He put their favorite horror movie on and went to clean himself up, returning to the bed and climbing in next to them when he was done.

“Love you, Dewey.” They mumbled, turning to face Dew and nuzzling their face into his chest.

Dew smiled, pressing a kiss to their forehead and holding them close. “I love you, Starshine. Always and forever.”

#midnight writes #this was supposed to be a quick little fic #and then they got into my head #and then someone else got into my head #and then it got filthy #but I’m not complaining #spicy tag #cw: breeding #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phandrop #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

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badchoicesworld · 8 months

Note

Hi i was wondering if you could do a male s/o that gets super insecure and uncomfortable when people look at his top surgery scars and he hates it when people miss gender him and Miles Morales Miles 42 Hobie Pavitr Prabhakar and Spider-Noir are there to defend or shut the people that miss gender him or glare at them to the point where the other person gets uncomfortable and stop looking at the male reader I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense i just type really fast and don't re-read it at some points

Anyways I absolutely love your writing work I really enjoy it and everything, have a lovely day or night ❤️💕

hobie, 1610!miles, 42!miles, pavitr and noir defending their transmasc partners

ok this took me a while i admit but i hope you enjoy !

established, separate relationships

warnings: i’m sleepy

pairing: hobie brown x transmasc!reader, earth-1610 miles morales x transmasc!reader, earth-42 miles morales x trans!mascreader, pavitr prabhakar x transmasc!reader, spider-noir x transmasc!reader

requests: check out the blog-guide for info !

he’s rapidly approaching

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

punk personified

you two were getting ready for a sick concert you’ve been looking forward to for a small while now, moral is high and all’s good

ofc it’s punk, and hobie will be damned if you don’t dress the part with him

he started diying you guys outfits for this specific concert a few weeks beforehand, and he’s super proud of them ! very happy to show you and he hopes you like them

you like them . because i said so

however, it did include a shirt that looks like it had been torn up in every way possible

depending on what ur comfortable with, it can either be a crop top that rides up just a little too much when you jump about and stretch OR it’s one of those tank tops where the sides of your torso simply aren’t covered, very low cut sides

so yeah, your top surgery scars are in the breeze

intentional ? who knows, this is hobie we’re talking about

maybe hobie’s tryna get you to step out of your comfort zone and feel more comfortable in ur skin in an environment where he knows you won’t be judged

perhaps he simply did not take this into consideration because he doesn’t even think twice about ur scars

regardless, they’re out, you both look sick, im forever furious that we were deprived of tank top hobie in low riders PLEASE (he exists in my dreams)

the concert isn’t the problem- don’t call urself punk if ur a bigot we all know this

it’s the walk there that really sucked

you and hobie got some intense stares from people as you walked hand in hand to this thing

naturally, hobie ate that shit up, kept his head high the whole time and doesn’t bat an eye at this people

you’re not as confident, unfortunately . catching people looking at your scars makes you feel all sorts of insecure, which is valid man

hobie also gets this, and god knows he looks for every excuse to antagonise those closed minded people so he’s very content to start a fight

cant care less when it comes to people judging him, he knows who he is and he’s proud asf, not gonna waste his breath on that

but when hobie sees his boyfriend curling in on himself because of strangers in the street that aren’t shit, that’s when he can be bothered to pay some mind to them

it’s subtle, for your sake . doesn’t wanna draw any more attention and risk getting caught up in this when you’ve both been looking forward to this concert for so long

so instead of outright starting a fight, he uses that scary privilege he knows he has and just stared them down in such a disrespectful way

the way that you’re both dressed too, i’m sure that it works

doesn’t relent either, will stare until the other people stop staring

ideally ? he wants to make them walk away and stop bothering you, but he’s alright with exchanging a scowl for the person to look away instead, preferably in shame

when they’re taken care of, that’s that . he wants you two to forget about that and have fun at this gig, sound good ? he wants to see you genuinely enjoying yourself in your own skin, surrounded by the people that make him feel more like himself too

besides, scars are nothing to be ashamed of or to hide

the walk home is a lot more peaceful

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i’m sorry u were ever hurt

you two are off to the water park (using the american word, sorry fellow brits :() together, enjoy ur youth

imagine how cool you two are rolling up in ur swimming trunks

i wholeheartedly believe that miles is an absolute sap and would wanna match- i die on the hill that he’s a born to “hi ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ” forced to “wsg”

anyway, go have fun at the baths

that’s what miles expects anyway, fun with no strings attached, as most would

but that’s not how the world works, unfortunately

some people live to be hateful and have sad, empty, boring, gloomy, pathetic, waste of space lives, and you have to go through the misfortune of enduring some really vicious stares . all because you’re a guy with a few scars on his chest

people talk, you might overhear some stuff about ur character that makes you really insecure and upset

takes miles a little minute to clock the way you’re trying to fold your arms to hide your scars, but he catches on pretty quickly that it’s because of the people around you

is immediately by your side and looking concerned as hell

initially assumed that you might be in some pain, maybe the chlorine is fucking w ur scar tissue

sympathetic and checking in on you in the gentlest way when he notices that sadness

“w-hey, what’s happenin? you good?” standing really close and tilting his head to make eye contact with you if you’re looking down or away, hands are grazing your elbows to hold you

miles cares, a lot

speak ur mind man, tell him what’s going on

looks over your shoulder and at the people making you feel uncomfortable with that determined look

ushers you away, doesn’t want you around those kind people . bad vibes, he doesn’t fuck w it

probably goes snitch to staff lmao

and that’s how much he cares, he’d get stitches for u (ﾉд`)

but miles isn’t about to let the day be ruined by transphobes- god forbid

so he’s gonna try hard to make you forget about that interaction, it’s like a switch when he suddenly becomes all energetic again and is basically dragging you back towards the water

wants to hear you start laughing real fast

if miles venom striked the pool would everyone fucking die ?

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

cat

GYM BABY

PE class gotta suck with all those bitchy teens being closed minded for no good reason and thinking it’s funny to openly judge and mock the things they don’t understand

miles is very mature and knows that bullying just isn’t cool, downright stupid and bullies should honestly be embarrassed to show their face

but because the changing rooms are so small, he can’t even attempt to ignore the comments he’s hearing, all directed at his boyfriend who’s just trying to change for class

you’re minding your own business, why can’t they mind theirs ?

is another person that doesn’t wanna give you a worse time by antagonising those freaks and picking a fight, will instead just stare over his shoulder

works, miles 42 has a mean side eye, straight up vicious

he knows that won’t resolve the issue, people are so resilient w their hate and

gets insanely irritated if someone suggests you changing somewhere else . honestly would just prefer for there to be some tension in the locker room instead of isolating you away while you changed, couldn’t stand that idea because it’s flat out not fair . on top of a number of other things

can ignore the tension, doesn’t know about you

talks to you about not backing down, you have every right ro be in there and you shouldn’t feel in any way negatively about it

don’t give those closed minded people the satisfaction of making you feel bad about yourself and accommodating to them

makes an excellent point one day

“why are you watchin’ my boyfriend change..?” says it so slowly and it got real awkward after that

won’t tell a teacher unless you want to, then he’ll be moral support and be waiting for you outside the office

anyway, man’s got a killer deadeye to keep people in line and tries to not antagonise people too much

just get changed, that’s what you’re there to do people

stop being weird abt it

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

please don’t die

i’m a huge fan of those people that see a trans flag and immediately try to pull a “you’ll never be a real woman >:C” to a trans man

like yeah, thanks man, really appreciate it

it’s happened to you once or twice in the street, you or pav have some kind of pin or smthn and you’re literally just approached by strangers who have nothing better to do with their day

the most meaningful thing abt it is talking to you two honestly, ur just that cool

i can see him reading people just to point out their insecurities because violence isn’t the answer

it’s a last resort, but imagine you two simply minding your own business and this blank slate of a person decides to make a comment on your masculinity

“it’s okay sweetie, they’re just trying to overcompensate for their lack of a personality ! (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)” huh 👁️👁️

pays literally no mind to them, pretends nothing happens and keeps walking with you

it’s like an invisible force field, bounces right off of him and somehow hurts the other person more

walking embodiment of that “i am rubber you are glue, what bounces off of me stick to you” and he probably recites that, too

but yeah, so insanely unbothered that i would maybe check up on him from time to time ? how is he always so chipper ? is bro good ?

but it’s infectious, so you can’t let it get to you either, it’s hard to feel sad around pav

he will somehow coincidentally always find something to immediately take ur mind off if it

after a shitty interaction with someone talking about pronouns and how theirs are an inanimate object, he miraculously spots a food stand you guys haven’t tried yet

does that Σ(ﾟロﾟ) face of his while gasping and drags you over, no questions asked

interrupts the person with the longest gasp, one would assume he hadn’t had a breath of fresh air ever

“look look! we have to try it!” pointing like that fuckin Soyjaks meme and ur gone, bigot is left in the dust

i’ve heard food is great therapy, and he believes so too

so scran down on some good street food while pavitr looks like a beam of sunshine despite just ruining a persons self esteem for the rest of their lie

it’s deserved though, so you can both sleep well

yknow what else slaps ? some chai, go home and have some w his aunty who thinks you’ve a very handsome young man

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

why the fuck is he so broad hang on

she/her a he/him and get shot, idk mans got a whole firearm for a reason

it’s takes him a little while to understand trans slander, but eventually it becomes like a fine art to him because i think he has a tendency to hyperfixate on things until he understands them in violent detail (autistic. he’s violently autistic coded. cant read a room, hyperfixated on his favourite colour, struggles to express himself through his tone.. yknow)

so if one day someone happens to catch sight of your scars and starts to talk shit in whatever 30’s slang from his dimension and modern slang from your own, he is so ready to give this speech on discrimination

theres a power point slide too but he doesn’t know how that works

gives up not even half way because he got frustrated and started cursing them out instead

“look, you seem like lovely people- no, no you don’t”

he has anger issues

there’s a lot of “and my boyfriend!” followed by a compliment, he managed to throw a few in there for good measure

says something about the colour purple at one point, i don’t know how that happened

please steer him away before someone gets shot over colour theory (surprised it hasn’t happened yet, ammarite fellow artists ? 😀 )

apologises for getting carried away, has to stop himself from talking about colours again he’s just such a peter and so unserious

“i’m sorry i- that must have been hard for you” clearly it was harder for u dear god

is likely the most insistent on doing anything and everything to make you feel better, is open to suggestions and is basically begging for them

while everyone else is low-key for ur own sake, this man’s about to buy you the world with his 4 dollars which is pretty impressive in his dimension

insists on doing your favourite things, is suggesting this and that, left right and centre

is convinced it’s the end of the world, this is reinforced since you seemed so upset and uncomfortable being misgendered by some people on the street

if you’re plenty happy to settle doing something, he’s thrilled and is giving it his 110% just for you

go watch a movie, careful not to point out the colours of noir will then realise that movies are no longer in black and white and starts asking you if everything is purple

“what a lovely purple :]” pan to like a whole pyramid

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

anyway, can you tell that hobie is easiest for me to write for and that i was running out of ideas ?

let me know how you feel about it !

if this flops i’m gonna have to go on a long stroll

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 months

Note

i hope this isn't a weird ask, but i'm looking for some hope. i consider myself really fucking stupid. i don't think i have good "critical thinking" skills, or even good reading comprehension. do you think it's possible to get better at those things?

as i mentioned earlier, my answer is yes. as i also mentioned, i genuinely think that the fact that you are less than confident about your skills in these areas is itself valuable and not as common as it probably should be. i have worked with a fair number of kids, both in the elementary school classroom and in the upper grades for test prep stuff, whose reading comprehension isn't great, but who genuinely do not seem to notice there is anything off about their reading until they have to answer questions about it. they're in the habit of just glossing by a lot of stuff and not noticing. i have met kids who would swear to you they love to read who cannot accurately recount what actually happens in the scene they just read, but who seem pretty confident that what they're doing is reading. so if you're going around reading stuff and thinking, "hey, that's confusing" - congratulations! you are great at self-assessing your own comprehension. this is REALLY HARD for a lot of people to do.

i also think it's actually important to NOT think of either reading comprehension or critical thinking as a binary on/off switch, where you're either good at it or bad at it. both of these things are spectrums. in addition, both of these things are context dependent. there are a lot of things i have pretty good reading comprehension for. there are also types of text where my reading comprehension is straight-up bad: scientific papers published for other scientists to read; philosophy or literary theory of any kind; poetry. i tried to reread laura mulvey's original "male gaze" essay because i suspected people were using the concept wrong both in its favor, and i couldn't meaningfully follow its argument (although i think i am probably right because i don't really believe that many randos are so much better at interpreting freudian film theory than i am, lmao). these are all examples of texts where i don't have a lot of background knowledge in the subject area or a lot of experience reading this kind of thing. they are also mostly things i don't care enough about to put in the time and effort to get better at. (sometimes i think about trying to do this with poetry, but i have not prioritized this yet, to say the least.)

critical thinking also depends majorly on familiarity with a topic or at least with a field. i'll give you an example. on the podcast maintenance phase, the hosts attempt to apply critical thinking to common perceptions of scientific research. some of their points are good, and many of them sound convincing to me, a person who doesn't know a lot about science. but i soured on the podcast over time largely because on the subreddit for the show, an attempt at a scientific deep dive often brought at least one person who was like, "i have some expertise in this field and they are wrong." sometimes this is about interpreting a specific study (or, uh basic factual shit like the definition of a word), but a lot of times it's about big picture stuff that is hard to think about if you don't have experience in the field. one recent example that interested me was regarding a study done on ozempic. the hosts mentioned that in the trial, (iirc) two people died. sounds scary and not great! someone on reddit pointed out, though, that this was a very large study that recorded deaths for any reason - it's probably not statistically anomalous that two out of however many people died, and there's no evidence to indicate that ozempic had anything to do with it. i appreciated this science-minded redditor because i definitely listened to the episode and was like, wow! scary! but when i read that explanation i was like, oh, okay, yeah.

i am not any kind of expert, and i guess you didn't technically ask for advice, but here are some things that may or may not be helpful.

with regard to reading comprehension:

struggle is a normal part of reading, especially of reading complicated texts. if you are struggling with a text, it does NOT mean you "have bad reading comprehension" or are fucking up. it indicates you have good self-awareness about your own level of comprehension.

i don't have research on this one. this is speculation. but my hunch is that for people who have a certain baseline level of reading comprehension, reading things that are challenging to understand over time increases the amount of stuff you can read easily. i was definitely better at reading books by historians at the end of my history degree than i was at the start. and honestly, i was also better at it after i spent like a year obsessively reading books about new york city history than i was when i graduated!

related to that, it's okay to understand something mostly but not all the way!

it's also okay to determine your own goals for understanding, and spend your time appropriately! i have a terrible visual imagination so to really fully "comprehend" any passage in any novel that describes the layout of a room, i would have to get a notebook out and draw it. i'm not gonna do that. (weirdly, though, i often love reading that shit anyway, haha.)

there is a lot of research out there emphasizing the importance of background knowledge to comprehension. (natalie wexler has written a book about this i haven't read, along with some articles i have read.) the scary way to look at this link is, "oh no, how can i learn all the things i need to know?" the awesome and exciting way to look at it is, every time you learn something, it widens the circle of things you can read, which means it widens the circle of things you can learn about, which means you can keep leaning.

you can also google stuff. one time i was confused by a book's explanation of a government policy so i googled and found some articles that covered it in more detail. (and also discovered that the specific example the book had used had been phased out of the law by the time it was published, lol.)

there are some strategies that have been found to increase reading performance, but the research around these is mostly around them as teaching strategies. my favorite reading guy timothy shanahan has speculated that the thing the strategies all have in common is they're ways of getting kids to actually pay attention when they read. the main strategy i think has value for people who want to get better at reading on their own is summarizing. every so often, take a moment to put into your own words what you've just read. how often will depend on what you are reading and how challenging it is. every paragraph is a often a good benchmark for something dense, especially as you are getting used to reading like this. every page or every chapter might be more appropriate for something like a novel. there have been times when i've done this sentence by sentence because something was really fucking dense! (a general note: this can also help people who feel their reading comprehension is mostly fine but have a lot of trouble remembering what they read. when i started doing this kind of thing consciously it improved my recall a lot, and i had a decent memory for textual information to begin with.) (if you REALLY want a power-up, taking notes is great, but most people understandably don't want to do this for their recreational reading.) over time there is also a good chance that you'll start doing this more fluidly and automatically as you read and not have to choose to do it consciously as much. but if not that's ok!

a strategy that is not always a natural fit for reading on your own but can be useful for certain kinds of reading is setting yourself questions to answer and then seeing if you can answer them. obviously, this typically makes more sense as a teaching strategy because how can you know what a text will contain until you read it? but there are times you can make a pretty educated guess, or stick to a really basic thing like "what is [thing this is promising to explain]?" i once picked up a particular NYC history book because it had been cited somewhere else as containing an account of the consolidation for the five boroughs. it was a really dense book and i decided that while i probably wouldn't retain many of the details its covered, i really wanted to learn from this book the author's answer to why the boroughs became one. four years later i still remember most of the reasons he gave! (harbor maintenance; economic competition with other large cities; a belief in some quarters that brooklyn would be a good influence on the manhattan political machine; i think there was one or two more but i'm 95% sure those were the ones cited as being most important.)

look up words! honestly tutoring has made ME realize how many words out there i "sort of" know but can't provide great definitions for, lol. a site i always recommend for my students doing vocab is learnersdictionary.com, which is by the encyclopedia britannica people and aimed for kids. it's a pretty full dictionary, but the definitions, while still accurate, are a lot more "user-friendly" than most dictionary definitions, which can be technical in a way that makes them less than illuminating.

for critical thinking:

honestly at LEAST half your battle is won. the main error i see people make in the realm of critical thinking is believing they are qualified to assess information they are not in fact qualified to do. the name of the game is humility.

i think my own critical thinking skills have really benefited from times when i've been able to read multiple perspectives on a fairly narrow topic. when i was in my NYC history era (i really gotta get back on that train), one thing i did was that every time i finished a book, i popped over to JSTOR to see if any scholars had reviewed it. i specifically wanted scholarly reviews because those are the people who can point out things i would NEVER have thought of because i did not have their years of expertise. for example, i read this one jill lepore book that was... fine... but there was a review of it that was like, "it's weird that based on her sources she didn't consult the largest and most important archive related to this place during this period, and as a result is mistaken about how common or uncommon certain things she describes are." i have never heard of that archive so i am glad someone pointed that out!

you can't always do that, obviously, and also sometimes you don't want to. but i think doing that regularly for a while helped me increase my intellectual humility and build the habit of filing things i read as "interesting if true" while leaving room for the fact that maybe they're not. (honestly the maintenance phase subreddit felt like a podcast version of this, lol, and i appreciated it a lot!)

idk. there is a fad these days for teaching "critical thinking skills"; as i mentioned in the post i assume prompted this, there is also debate about whether this is even a thing. in grad school, i felt like i saw a lot of people who had learned to mimic what they thought of as critical thinking by asking things like, "what about kids who belong to [a particular underrepresented group]?" or "how does the author have bias?" and those are good questions to ask, but knowing to ask those questions is not the same as thinking critically. if i were to try to give a shorthand question that guides my own attempts to think critically, it would be something like, "how does this person establish that what they claim to be true is actually true?" the sources they use are part of this, yes, but, again, asking "what about the sources???" is not, in and of itself, critical thinking. you also have to think about things like, "they go from this idea to that idea, but does idea 2 actually follow from idea 1?" and the number one bias you have to watch out for is your own.

i want to state again here that this is not a binary and the goal is not to be good at it, it's to keep getting better. years ago, i read an article in the atlantic by a professor of math education about the importance of counting on one's fingers in early math. i was like, wow, that's so cool and interesting. i had a first grader who was really struggling with some very basic stuff, and i did some exercises from the article with him because i thought they might help. maybe three years later, if that, i came across the article again, because i had just looked up something else by the author and been like, "wait, what? this seems blatantly not factual?" i remembered that i had liked this thing she had said about finger-counting, and i went back to try to figure out if that one had been better or if i had been mistaken, and i was, like, horrified that the atlantic had printed this and that i had once read it and nodded along like "so true bestie." the article was full of leaps in logic that sounded good but weren't actually supported at all. i'm sharing this story because if you feel like you are bad at critical thinking.... like, me too, sometimes!!!!! everyone is!!!!! if someone tells you they are super awesome at critical thinking all the time, that person is a fucking idiot and you shouldn't trust them for shit!!!!!

one other thing i can't not address: i once not too long ago made a post to the effect of "my life got a lot better when i accepted the possibility of being stupid," so i did not want to harp on this off the bat or too strongly for fear of being a hypocrite, lol, and i don't want to argue with you, a total stranger, about your perception of yourself, because i am allergic to people doing that to me. however, i would feel wrong not to mention that the specific phrasing and language you use in your ask suggests to me that when you think of yourself as "really fucking stupid," there is likely a significant emotional component in that belief and the emotions that it brings up in you, and i would be pretty surprised if it were not at least partly a reflection of your general relationship with yourself. i am telling you this because it reminds me of the way that i used to think about myself in my brain. i reliably performed well academically when i wasn't having a nervous breakdown, but i thought of myself as deeply stupid until mid twenties. there are a couple of factors i can point to regarding why i don't feel that way anymore, but by far the biggest, i think, is just that i don't hate myself the way i used to. thinking of myself as stupid in the particular vitriolic way your ask reminded me of was never actually about my smarts or lack thereof. it was just a manifestation of my deep and painful self-loathing. so i encourage you to cultivate a way of being kind to yourself, of forgiving yourself, of letting go of the shame you might be carrying about your skills or about other things that might seem unrelated. my final answer to your question is that there's hope for your capacity to grow, but it's also okay for you to be where you are. this is about reading, but it's also about everything else.

finally, if you are confused about anything i've written here, feel free to ask for clarification. i am good with words and i've tried to be clear, but one of the writing-related skills i suck MOST at is being able to gauge whether or not i have written something in a needlessly confusing way, lmao.

#askbox

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