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radioactiveparker · 12 days

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The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader

Part One - These Children That You Spit On

Chapter Summary - We meet five unlikely teenagers who have to spend the next eight hours in detention together. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / Kleptomania / References to Demonianism and Satanism / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Stereotyping / Angst

Word Count - 6.6k

(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)

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Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hargrove Residence.

6:30am.

~~~~~

"Billy, c'mon, I have to go."

You reluctantly pulled away from the warm embrace of the covers, or at least attempted to. Billy kept the dead weight of his arm slung heavily around your waist, trapping you to the mattress. He released a groan of annoyance as he curled it around you and pulled you into him. You spared a few minutes to stay in his warmth and shed the sleep from your brain. The grey hues of wintry light cascaded onto the room through the gap in the curtain. The room was otherwise obscured from light, making it effortless to close your eyes and fall back asleep. You refrained, deciding to focus your ears instead. The familiar chirping of birds and the quiet hum of unfortunate morning commuters on their way to work on a Saturday morning had you sinking back into your pillow. The smell of brewing coffee reminded you to stay awake. Your eyes blinked open again, and you shuffled from underneath Billy's grasp. He groaned again, this time burying himself into your neck. You giggled, planted a kiss to his cheek, and rolled him off you.

You quickly jumped in the shower, saying good morning to Billy's little sister Max, who was making her way into the kitchen, along the way. You dressed in the bathroom, checking your watch before heading back into Billy's bedroom to say goodbye.

He lay on his front, eyes still closed, but his breathing told you that he was awake. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek again.

"Billy, I'm going now, but I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"

He said nothing. You couldn't suppress the disappointment that swept through you. You turned to leave when he softly grabbed your wrist. You smiled, thinking he was going to ask you to stay, or to give you a goodbye kiss, but his gripped tightened. Your heart dropped.

"Billy, you're hurting me."

"Where do you think you're going?" He stared you dead in the eyes.

You tried to pull away. "I told you yesterday, Billy. Mrs O'Donnell gave me a Saturday detention."

"No, where do you think you're going dressed like that."

You looked at your outfit. You wore the signature green and white of the Hawkins High cheerleading squad. A sleeveless modest style vest, worn with a turtleneck layer underneath, and a green pleated skirt with yellow striping around the hem. It rested just above your mid thigh, so you pulled your socks all the way up to your knees to keep warm. "I told my parents I had cheerleading practice, so they didn't think I had detention. You know this, Billy."

"Do I? Or are you going to see your precious King Steve again?" His grip tightened even further.

He had that crazy look in his eyes that made your entire body freeze. You stopped struggling. Your chest went tight, and suddenly, it was like trying to breathe in a sauna room.

Billy Hargrove was not fond of Steve Harrington, and last Thursday night, you had snook out to go to a party as his house. You had cancelled your plans with Billy last minute after Carol begged you to go with her (not that it took much convincing). It turned out that Billy had been invited to the party by one of his other friends, unbeknownst to you. And you made the mistake of lying to Billy and told him that you were sick.

The biggest mistake of your life.

He saw you there and started an argument that had the entire rooms eyes on the two of you. He had the same wild look in his eyes as he had now. He ended up punching Steve when he had come over to ask if everything was alright.

"I only went to that party for Carol. I didn't even speak to Steve."

"No? Because he seemed real friendly with you."

"He wasn't! Billy, please, I don't want anything to do with Steve. Just please let me go."

He released you harshly, and you immediately brought your wrist to your chest, rubbing the sore skin.

"Get out of my sight."

You scurried out the door with tears in your eyes.

Your first steps outside felt as though you were walking into the worlds largest refrigerator, though you were thankful it wasn't raining. You could do without the frozen shrapnel soaking you to the bone this morning. It had already started bad enough.

The sun had only just begun to rise, not having a chance to warm up the earth yet. Not that it would do much good. The temperature had been dropping more and more as the days went on, this morning being the worst yet. It had turned tomb-like silent outside with the exception of the crunching salt under your feet that had been newly laid to stop people from slipping on the first of winter's ice. A storm had come and gone the previous night, but the sky still hung sadly as a woollen grey shawl, bringing threat of another. The cold, however, was enough to calm you down. It felt refreshing after feeling suffocated in Billy's room.

You checked your watch again. You had twenty minutes to sneak back home and pretend that you had just woken up and got dressed for cheerleading practice.

You started running.

~~~~~

Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hawkins High.

7:55am.

~~~~~

You had made it home just in time before your parents woke up. You explained you were doing stretches in your room, which was why you were red-faced and slightly out of breath. They didn't seem to buy it, but the alternative presumption was far too embarrassing for them not to take your word for it.

Your father offered you a ride to school, but after that rather awkward first encounter with them this morning, you thought it best to walk. And you were glad you did because it didn't take long before they were arguing. Your mother red-faced and clutched onto the cross around her neck while your father rolled his eyes. To the outside world, it would seem that you had the perfect family, but that couldn't be father from the truth. A lot of the times when they argued, it would be over something petty, but all of a sudden, your name would be roped in, and the entire point of the argument seemed to vanish. You see, to them, you were leverage. As soon as you got a mention, they got the upper hand. They used you to get back at each other: a means to an end. Not intentionally, of course, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. It was nothing uncommon in your household, but that didn't mean you could stand to listen to it. You grabbed your coat and left as quickly as you could, neither of your parents noticing that you were gone as they continued to scream in each others faces.

By the time you made it to the schools entrance, you wished you had brought a change of clothes as ice shot through your veins and goose-pimpled your skin. You drew your coat closer to your chest, clenching and unclenching your gloveless fingers to keep the feeling in their tips.

As you bound up the schools steps like a heat-seeking rocket, the rubber tyres of a coffee brown BMW screeched to a stop. The sudden sound echoing across the empty school premises caused you to turn quickly. Through the windshield, you saw a man in a business suit at the wheel. Beside him was his eighteen-year-old son, Steve Harrington. Your heart raced when you saw him. You weren't expecting to see him here.

Billy isn't here. You told yourself in an attempt to calm your jangled nerves.

His hands gestured animatedly as he argued with his father. Their words were suppressed by the metal walls of the car, but you could surmise their level of volume by the thick vein protruding from Steve's neck. Then, their words exploded like a bullet from the barrel of a gun, piercing through the stillness of the morning as the door opened and Steve stomped out. Something along the lines of "No school's gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case!". And just like that, their poor version of a conversation seized to exist by the single slam of a car door. Almost immediately, the car sped off, swerving around the parking lot like a maniac before disappearing. You stood in shock as Steve held his two middle fingers up at the abandoning vehicle. It was not a home life you would have pictured for King Steve. It was a rather unexpected display you had witnessed, but to Steve, it seemed like any other day. He jogged up the stairs, hands in his jacket pockets and sporting a healing split lip, looking so unaffected by the argument that you almost convinced yourself that you had imagined it.

He paused on the step behind you, finally noticing that you were there, but only for a split second, barely sparing you a glance before moving straight past you and through the doors. You felt heaviness in your chest. No "hello." Even a simple smile would have done. But you supposed they were reserved for his real friends. Sure, you and Steve knew each other - you had friends from the same group, and you had been to a few of his parties, but you hadn't even held a proper conversation with the guy - just dribs and drabs of small talk here and there, but he was nice.

Thoughts of Billy flashed through your mind. It seems as though Billy's appearance at his party the other day had left him wanting nothing to do with you. You understood why, Billy had caused quite the scene over nothing. But there was no reason why you should be punished for his actions. You shook the thoughts out of your head. It was nothing that you should dwell on, so you continued on into the school.

The halls looked strange without their usual morning bustle. The squeak of your sneakers against the freshly waxed floor echoed as you made your way to the school library. You could hear Steve's fast pace ahead of you. His blue, straight-legged jeans and pristine Nike sneakers strode out of your sight until you were left in silence. The silence felt so loud that it rumbled from the high ceiling. You were so sure it was the cause of the last light flickering at the end of the hall. Continuing forward, you took the first left and proceeded straight until you reached the double doors at the end. A flimsy banner hung from the tiled ceiling, "HAWKINS TIGERS ALL THE WAY," with a decent enough illustration of the school mascot, threatened to fall. You treaded lightly as you moved beneath it, holding your breath in fear that any sudden movement would cause it to fall down on you. You released it when you made it safely to the other side.

Your fingers traced along the lockers as you walked, reading the bits and pieces of graffiti as you went; 'Fuck this shit, I'm out' in scrawled handwriting, 'I hate Mondays' with drips of black paint streaking down some of the letters, and a cartoonish depiction of a weed leaf smoking a blunt which made you chuckle. You walked past a trophy case, eyeing the splendid totems of athletic and academic prestige alike. A picture of the basketball team in all their glory on the top shelf, another of the cheerleading squad, yourself included, and a grainy image of the physics club haphazardly chucked on the bottom. Your white sneakers squeaked once more as you pivoted to the right before making a final left to the pine doors of the library.

Before you were six tables placed into two rows of three, with three chairs sitting snugly behind each one. You were surprised to see Nancy 'goodie two shoes' wheeler sat at the front table, with her perfectly permed hair and fur-lined jacket still on her shoulders. You didn't think it was possible for Nancy Wheeler to get detention, but then again, the same could've been said about you. Steve had strangely enough sat on the same table as her, despite every other seat being completely free, leaving an empty chair between them so as not to make it weird. Neither of them spoke to each other and instead opted to sit in silence, fiddling with their finger nails or a loose thread on their jumper. As you took your first foot in, a tall, lanky girl with short, dirty blonde hair sped past you, mumbling a quick sorry when she nearly knocked you off your feet. This unorthodox first impression of the girl, who you had only ever seen around the school halls, had commenced quite the distaste for her already. She was red-faced and sweaty, carrying her thick winter coat over her elbow, undeterred by the chilly weather. The whites of her eyes almost blended with her rosy cheeks, bloodshot like she was holding back tears. She had been in a rush to get here and away from whatever had made her upset. You imagined that's what you must have looked like this morning, and you almost started to feel a little sorry for her. She took the middle table on the left side, dumping her coat on one chair before hiding her face in her arms. If you hadn't known any better, it looked as though she was trying to fall asleep on the table.

You made your way to the table to the right of hers, taking the seat on the furthest side. You kept your coat on for now but dumped your bag on the chair beside you. With a huff, you rested your head in the palm of your hands, watching the back of Nancy and Steve's heads.

The heavy weight of the library door forced its hinges to fold and close impulsively, and Eddie slipped through the crack before it closed all the way, because god forbid he wasted his energy on something as measly as opening a door. The pride in his face when he reached the other side was as if beating the door was life or death. Like he was Indiana Jones rolling under a trap door to avoid being impaled by spikes. All he needed was a wide-brimmed fedora.

You tensed at the sight of him. You had heard rumours that he was a Satan worshiper and that he would do casual rituals on the weekends. You didn't believe it, of course, Eddie was all bark and no bite, but that didn't make you feel any easier around him. Eddie was not a good person. He had been caught one too many times trying to sell weed to freshman because they were 'naïve and easy to upsell' or trying to get them to join his little Hellfire Cult. He would spit and hiss at the teachers, setting up traps in unsuspecting students' lockers, or even straight up stealing their locks so their personal belongings were out for anyone to see. He was like a snake. Once he caught his prey, he was coiling around it, pulling himself into it. Constricting, suffocating, waiting to ascertain it was truly dead before taking a bite. His scales came in the form of clinking enamel badges, and his words were the venom dripping from his tongue. To put it lightly, he was one big bully - a miscreant.

His kleptomaniac fingers touched practically everything he walked by: picking up flyers and not even bothering to read them before dropping them to the floor, unhooking the phone from the receiver so it dangled limply from the checkout desk, and pocketing a few pencils that are no doubt going to end up missing because Eddie Munson has never brought a pencil to school a day in his life. He walked slowly, confidently, giving everyone in the room time to become aware of his presence. You could feel him eyeing you up when he walked by. You met his stare like an owl, following until you couldn't turn your head any further. You weren't going to let him intimidate you and you wanted him to know it. It was the first time you had seen him wearing something other than his usual hellfire shirt and leather jacket. He had the same dark, denim jeans with the holes in the knees and once white reeboks, only this time he wore a black t-shirt with a thick winter coat in a matching colour. Red, plaid fabric peaked out from the confines of his coat. Sensibly, he had worn a shirt over top as an extra layer to keep warm. His footsteps were wide and languid as he moved to his seat, dumping himself on the table behind you and untangling his scarf from around his neck.

Just as everyone settled in, Principal Richard Higgins strode in, stopping dead centre in the mouth of the passageway between the two rows of tables. You tried not to laugh. Principal Higgins was a sight to behold, swapping his usual grey suit and tie for flamboyantly bright pink t-shirt a size too small for his pot belly, a casual white blazer, a pair of jeans and bold coloured sneakers. You didn't notice until now that he had the figure of a lollipop, round on top, but stick thin on the bottom. You understood now why he always wore a suit; it evened him out a bit. Though he did confirm the rumour that teachers were definitely not normal.

He glanced at his fancy watch. "I would first like to congratulate you all for being on time." Though it sounded more sarcastic than sincere.

He seemed to be looking straight at Eddie as he said that. Eddie only responded by kicking his feet up on the desk.

"Now, it is 8:02am. You have exactly eight uneventful hours to spend in each others company." He began pacing up and down the aisle with his chest puffed out in intimidation (well, as intimidating as a lollipop shaped man could be), slapping Eddies feet down as he did.

"You many not talk, you may not move from your seats -" He stopped at the weird girl who had nearly knocked you over and slapped a hand on the desk. She shot up with a gasp. "And you may not sleep."

"Today," He continued, marching to the front, "we're going to try something different. I want all of you to - uh?"

Principal Higgins dropped a stack of notebook paper on the nearest table and then made his way for the pot of pencils on the checkout desk. He paused in confusion when he saw the pot was empty; every pencil hiding snuggly in Eddie's pocket. You rolled your eyes as Eddie snickered behind you. There was a long pause of awkward silence as Principal Higgins made his way around the desk in search of more pencils. There were a few quiet grunts of effort and then a "Ah ha" before he appeared back in front.

"Right, I want all of you to write me an essay of no less than one thousand words describing to me who you think you are." He began handing out paper and pencils to everyone. "And when I say essay, I mean essay. Not a single word repeated a thousand times. Do you understand, Mr. Munson?"

"Mr. Munson understands, Principal Higgins." Eddie said.

Higgins ignored him. "Maybe you'll learn something about why you're here, and perhaps you'll decide whether or not you care to return."

Silence.

"I'll be across the hall in my office. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Questions?"

You saw Steve shake his head and catch Nancy shaking hers like she couldn't believe this was happening to her.

Principal Higgins gave one solid nod to confirm that question and answer time was over before making his way towards the library doors.

"Yeah, I got a question."

He took a pause, hand clenched firmly on the door handle as he twisted around. He raised his brow at Eddie, already sick and tired of his antics.

"Does Don Johnson know that you raided his wardrobe?"

There were a few snickers, including you, trying to discreetly cover your mouth to hide your smile. Principal Higgins was undisturbed. There wasn't a thing Eddie could do or say that would insult him. At least, that's what he wanted him to think.

"You'll find out the answer to that next Saturday. Mr. Munson. Do you have anything else you'd like to say to impress these people?"

Eddie smirked, leaning across the table and clasping his hands. He accepted the challenge, staring the Principal dead in the eye. "You got any naked pictures of your wife?"

The Principal's face turned red, and he referred to him with a hateful look in his eyes. "You've just earned yourself another Saturday detention, Mister." He pointed.

His eyes scoured the room, looking for anybody else who would challenge him. "Does anybody else want to join him?

The laughing stopped.

"Didn't think so."

And with that, he left, leaving the door wide open to give him a straight view of the library through his office window. Eddie chuckled, resting his feet back on the table, clearly proud of the reaction he had gotten.

Then silence.

A lot of silence.

Eddie placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes like he was going to sleep. Nancy began fiddling with her pencil, thinking about how she was going to start her essay. Steve cracked his knuckles, and the other girl (who you had yet to learn the name of) just stared at her paper. You simply sighed, took off your coat, and began daydreaming about all the other ways you could've chosen to spend your Saturday.

The library was by no means modern, but the faculty seemed to have no appreciation for the sort of library they've been given and ungraciously added touches of their own. There was an ugly mix of deep mahogany and grey sheet-metal bookcases, a couple of fake plants collecting dust, and old academic trophies that probably haven't been touched since the sixties. There were posters, some painted, some printed, but most were horrifically Halloween themed, and a rather provocative David Hasselhoff calendar behind the front desk, which the librarian thought no one could see.

Those few times that you had actually stepped foot in the library, you noticed it was never truly quiet. There were always whisperings of students, the whirring of printers, and the clicking of keyboards and typewriters.

But today, a Saturday, with only five students bored out of their minds, it was truly silent.

The library was so quiet that you could practically hear the books ageing. The books consumed the noise, leaving you all in a suffocatingly awkward space of ineloquent glances. Broad daylight struggled to reach the room. Not that the sun was trying to, but the blinds sought out to fight against it anyway. Instead, it was the hanging lights above that lit the maze of a room. The soft lights were enough to put you to sleep. Your eyes were fluttering softly, your head drooping--

"Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

Master, master!"

Your peaceful almost-slumber was rudely interrupted when Eddie opened his big mouth to sing that god-awful song. You had never listened to it in your life, but would gladly never listen to it again if it meant that Eddie would shut the hell up. You turned around to give him a glare of annoyance, and when you turned back, you noticed that the others had done the same. He peeked out through one eye, smirking at the look on everyone's faces, before continuing, only this time he was humming instead. Thank god.

"Shit!" Eddie sprang up, feet down, sitting up straight and alert. He startled you, and you turned again. "What are we supposed to do if we gotta take a leak?"

He pretended to undo his zipper, the childish act making you roll your eyes. "If you gotta go, you gotta go."

"Oh my god." Nancy looked like she was going to throw up. She turned and shielded her eyes.

"Try it, and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor." Steve threatened.

Eddie laughed, accomplishing his mission of upsetting the others. "You know, you're pretty sexy when you're angry, big boy."

He turned his attention to the quiet girl sat adjacent to him. She shifted under his gaze.

"Hey Buckley," She turned with a look of boredom, like she was used to his antics, "why don't you go and close that door so I can get our little cheerleader here naked?"

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you turned to glare at him. "Don't even think about it asshole."

"Why you a virgin?"

"Fuck you."

"You're disgusting." Nancy added.

"Awe, I'm sorry, you feeling left out, Princess? There's plenty of me to go around. But I suppose if you don't want to wait your turn, I wouldn't say no to a three-way."

"Ugh, you're such a creep!"

"Listen, man, if you piss me off, you're totalled." Steve defended the two of you, though you felt it was more for Nancy's sake than yours.

"Totalled?"

"Totally."

"Just ignore him, Steve. Maybe he'll go away." Nancy suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him to face the front.

There was a pause. Their shoulders relaxed when they had thought Eddie had given up.

"Oh, so are you two like boyfriend/girlfriend?" Eddie teased.

No reply.

"Steady dates?"

Silence.

"Lovers?"

Nancy continued to ignore him, but Steve smouldered with anger.

"Tell me, Princess, have you two played hide the sausage yet?"

"GO TO HELL!"

"Hey, keep it down in there!" Higgins called from across the hall.

He rolled backwards on his office chair until the five of them came into view. They were all seated exactly how he left them. He rolled back out of sight.

Everybody visibly relaxed.

Eddie hid the shock of Nancy's outburst behind another annoying smirk.

"Just ignore him, guys." You advised. "He's only doing it to get a rise out of you."

"Sweetheart, you couldn't ignore me if you tried." He gave you a confident wink.

You hated that it made your cheeks flush with heat. You quickly turned before you gave him something else to tease you over.

"We gotta close them doors. How are we supposed to party with the old pinhead checking us out every two seconds?" Eddie stood from his seat and moved towards the doors.

"I don't think that's a good idea. The doors are supposed to stay open." This 'Buckley' opened her mouth for the first time since she's got here. Everybody looked at her bewildered.

It was only Eddie who didn't seem phased by this, but he still paused. "What do you mean 'supposed to'?"

"Vernon said, Dingus, and I really don't want to get on his bad side. I mean, Mrs. Clickety Clackety is already threatening me with suspension, and I can't afford that. How am I supposed to get accepted into any sort of college if I get suspended. They'll think I'm a horrible student, and I'll be one big massive reject and--"

"Whoa, Robin, slow down." Steve interrupted her breathless rambling. You were struggling to keep up with each word. She was talking so fast. Just total word vomit, like she'd been trying to keep it down since she got here and suddenly just projectiled everywhere. It didn't even occur to you then that Steve knew her name.

"So?" Was Eddie's only blunt reply.

"So, why don't you just shut up." Steve scowled. "There's four other people in here, you know? Stop thinking about yourself for once."

"Wow, you're a math wiz, Sporto. I bet you know your ABCs, too. See, I knew you were smart. You hide it well, Harrington." Steve grimaced at that. "I mean, let's face it, you gotta be smart to play basketball."

"Who are you to judge?" Steve challenged. "You don't even count. If you disappeared forever, it wouldn't make any difference. You may as well not even exist at this school."

There was a twitch in Eddie's eye. He hated how that got to him, but he recovered swiftly. "Oh? Well, maybe I'll join the basketball team or the wrestling team? Or better yet, the student council, I think you'd like some of the ideas I have in mind for this place."

He moved slowly, intimidatingly to Steve's table, stopping in front of it before leaning down so he towered over Steve. He reminded you of an adult reprimanding a little boy. But Steve wasn't a little boy. He could hold his own.

"You could try, but they'd never take you."

"Damn, I'm hurt. truly." Eddie was definitely not hurt.

"Will you just stop? If you keep this up, Higgins is gonna come storming in here. I've got a game next Saturday, and I'm not gonna miss it because of you."

"Wouldn't that be a bite? Missing a whole game." Eddie feigned sympathy.

"You wouldn't know anything about it, Freak. You've never competed in your life."

"I know, and I feel all empty inside because of it." Eddie puffed his chest as if his heart was swelling with pride. "I have such a deep admiration for guys who toss balls into laundry baskets."

"Whatever, man. You don't have any goals."

"See, that's where you're wrong, I do have goals." Eddie paused in suspense, and Steve perked up a little in his seat. "My goal is to be exactly like you."

Steve slumped back and rolled his eyes. "You're worthless."

"I compete." Robin added after a beat. All eyes turned to her. You could tell she didn't like that much, but she continued anyway. "I'm in band, and I'm on the debate team, and I'm in the Latin club and chess team. This one time, with the debate team, we had this big banquet at the Hilton and we had to get dressed up. And, uh, I didn't have any shoes so I had to wear my mom's shoes. It was kind of weird because my Nana doesn't like when I wear other people's shoes. But, yeah. It's not athletic, but I compete in a lot of stuff."

"That's not the same, Rob." Steve sighed.

"You have to be a jock to compete?" Eddie confronted.

"I was talking about athletic competition."

"What's the difference?" You questioned. Everyone turned to you this time, but you kept your attention on Steve. You could see the proud smile on Eddie's face out of the corner of your eye.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said."

Eddie's eyebrow raised in amusement, enjoying someone else putting Steve in his place for a change. If he was being totally honest, Eddie didn't really have anything against Steve. Steve's friends, on the other hand, were a different story. Eddie found himself being hounded by Steve's friends more often than not, but Steve didn't actually do anything. But he didn't stop it either. Of all of them, he was the easiest to rile up, and Eddie couldn't help but cease the moment whenever he could.

Steve scoffed but bowed out of the conversation. "You're all fucked."

"Hey man, watch your mouth. There's ladies here remember? They don't appreciate you using a word like FUCK! in front of them." Eddie gestured to you. "I don't know if you know this, big boy, but her mother is a nun!"

It was true that your mother was a religious person, but she was certainly not a nun. "No she isn't."

"Sorry," He turned back to Steve. "Her father is a nun!"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped your lips. The sound caused a mischievous glint in Eddie's eyes. You hated it.

"Higgins is leaving." Nancy proclaimed suddenly.

Eddie paused with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, not wanting to get caught out of his seat. Everyone looked down the hall in time to see Principle Higgins exit his office, not even sparing them a glance. Eddie proceeded to the doors, peeking his head out to watch Higgins drink from the water fountain at the other end of the hall.

Eddie came back in the room. "We gotta move fast, the scumbag's just filling his tank."

Steve sent Nancy an annoyed look that said 'why did you have to tell him that?', causing her to shy away. She was already thinking the same thing herself. Eddie pulled a chair to the door, stood on it and took a guitar pick out of his pocket. With the guitar pick, he removed a screw from the door spring assembly. He jumped off the chair and the door closed behind him.

"That's not funny, man. Fix it."

"Please fix it." Robin pleaded.

"Am I a genius?" Eddie asked, though it was more of a brag than a question, as he quickly pushed the chair back to its rightful spot.

"No, you're an asshole."

There was a muffled "Hey!" from behind the door and everyone rushed to act as casual as possible. Eddie quickly took his seat, only this time he sat next to you. You tensed uncomfortably, smelling the faint cigarette smoke on his coat. You wanted to smack him for being so stupid. You just prayed that Higgins wouldn't notice he swapped seats.

The door busted open.

"Why is this door closed?" There was fury in his eyes.

Everyone remained silent, avoiding meeting his eyes. Steve turned to look at Eddie as if deciding the best way to rat him out.

Eddie jumped in before he could say anything. "How should we know, we're not supposed to move, right?"

Higgins singled out Steve, obviously noticing how he had looked at Eddie. "Why is that door closed?"

Steve looked to Eddie once again. You were cringing at how obvious he made it. You could feel Eddie shaking his leg under the desk. A nervous habit? Perhaps Eddie was afraid to get caught. Or he was just furious at Steve for even thinking about being a snitch. He lowered his eyes at Steve, a glare that said, 'Go on, I dare you'. Steve backed down.

"We were just sitting here. Like we're supposed to." Nancy answered for Steve, who was taking a suspicious amount of time to reply.

"The wind must've blew it." Robin added.

"It just... closed, Sir." Steve reluctantly agreed.

Principal Higgins eyed Eddie anyway and pointed a thick sausage finger. "This looks like the mindless sort of crap you'd find amusing, Munson."

"I think a screw fell out of it. I heard something that sounded like a screw falling out." Eddie tried to persuade.

"Yeah, right. Give me the screw."

"I don't have it."

"Am I going to have to turn you upside down and shake you?"

"I don't have it, Sir. Screws fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place."

"Give it to me, Munson."

He smiled suggestively. "Where do you want it?"

"With all due respect, Principal Higgins," you interrupted before he made things worse for himself. "Why would somebody steal a screw?"

Eddie looked at you in surprise, but you made it clear to him that you didn't do it because you liked him. Higgins walked back to the door.

"How do your parents put up with you, Munson?"

"They gave up on me a long time ago, Sir." He said it with such sincerity that your heart actually ached for him.

Higgins opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He realised how pointless it was to go after him. Instead, he went to the door, trying his luck at opening it and hoping it stayed that way. It didn't. He tried again, this time grabbing a chair to hold it open.

"That won't work. The door is way too heavy."

Higgins ignored Eddie. He pushed the chair against the door and let go. It threw the chair across the room, and the door slammed with an echoing bang. There were a few gasps of surprise and snorts of laughter.

Higgins fumed, eyeing the room for a solution. "Harrington, get up."

Steve unwillingly got up from his seat as the Principal directed him to grab one end of a bookcase.

"How come he gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up. It'll be anarchy!"

You elbowed Eddie's side to shut him up. He wasn't making this better for himself, which would no doubt end up with all of you getting punished. The two of them heaved together, and Steve actually ended up doing most of the work. The odd book fell to the floor, nearly tripping them up as they hefted it along slowly. They struggled for a few more minutes to slide the bookcase over to the door. Only when they finally got it in place did Eddie open his mouth again.

"That's very clever, Sir. But what if there's a fire?"

Higgins hadn't thought of that, but he didn't let it show.

"I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children is unwise at this juncture in your career, Sir." Robin chimed in and then sunk back in her seat under the Principal's stare.

Higgins turned back to Steve. "Alright, what are you doing with this? Get this outta here, for God's sake! What's the matter with you? Come on!"

Steve wanted to kill Eddie for opening his big mouth and then Robin for supporting him. The two of them struggled again to move it back to its original place. Once done, Steve sat back down with bated breaths.

Principal Higgins started towards Eddie, sweat dripping from his forehead, despite barely lifting a finger. "You're not fooling anybody, Munson. The next screw that falls out will be you."

Eddie muttered under his breath. "Eat my shorts."

"What was that?" Higgins barked.

"Eat. My. Shorts."

"You've just bought yourself another detention, Mister."

"Ugh, I'm crushed." Eddie faked a wince.

"You just bought yourself another."

"Well, I'm free the Saturday after that."

"Another."

"Hmm, beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar."

"Another."

You looked at Eddie fearfully. He was getting absolutely slaughtered by Principal Higgins. Although, no matter how much you dislike him, you couldn't help but be moved by his defiance.

"Cut it out." You whispered to him.

He ignored your plea, keeping up his front. He wasn't going to let this scumbag of a Principal break him. Not in front of the others, and, for reasons Eddie didn't quite understand yet, certainly not in front of you. He dared Higgins to give him another.

"Okay, Munson, your ass is mine for the next two months."

"I'm thrilled."

"You sure would like everybody to think that, wouldn't you? Maybe if you spent more time trying to do something with yourself and less time trying to impress people, you might be better off." Higgins brought his attention back to everyone else. "I'm not gonna put up with any more crap from any of you. Next time I have to come in here, I'll be coming to crack skulls."

He set his threat with a hard, angry glare and finally left the room.

The silence set in once again.

~~~~~

<<<Masterlist // Next>>>

~~~~~

Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #mini series #cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #the breakfast club #the breakfast club mini series #the breakfast club fanfic #stranger things x the breakfast club #enemies to lovers

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babygazette · 1 day

Text

FOX ON THE RUN!

pairing : rockstar!rafe x troublemaker!reader

synopsis : set in the 70s, rafe cameron was a singer for a world-famous rock band. what happens when he gets involved with a girl and spots her pretty face on a missing person section in the newspaper?

warnings : rafe calls reader “kid”, choking, manhandling, smoking, kleptomania

author's note : fox on the run by sweet is the theme song 😇 also just wanna add that i absolutely love @ghostofwriting ‘s kildare split au, it’s what inspired me to write rockstar!rafe <33 please check it out it’s so good

📠 📰 ────────*𑁍༘⋆ ────────

music blasting through the loudspeakers. passionate cheers. bright lights. that was the life of rockstar rafe cameron.

and that was the life you weaseled your way into. one day, you’re attending one of his band’s concerts and the next he’s got you in his hotel bed. you had him very charmed and now it’s been a week since rafe cameron has invited you to join him on tour as his plus one.

────────*𑁍༘⋆ ────────

the sheets over top of your naked bodies shuffle as rafe reaches over to grab his cigarette and lighter. “rafe.” you whine, rolling over onto your stomach, “gimme one.”

“yeah, yeah.” the singer grunts while grabbing another one, letting the two smokes dangle between his lips while he lights them both, handing you the other one. you blow the hot air onto rafe’s face making him roll his eyes at you before you slide out of bed. rafe eyes your naked body as you roam around the room with the cigarette settled between your two fingers.

“gonna get decent or..?” his words purposely trailing off, his eyebrow raised at you. “why, can’t handle what you see?” you let out the smoke to the side, lips curve into a cheeky grin as you look over your shoulder. rafe chuckles and licks his lips at your show.

“not gonna be able to handle what i’d do to you if you keep walking around like—“ your gasp cuts him off as you crouch down to your now empty little magazine stack. “rafey, i ran out of my magazines!”

“so?” rafe understands but couldn’t care less. “so? so we gotta get more.” you’ve already put your cigarette out and flicked it away, pulling at rafe’s arm to get him out of bed. he groans and drags you on top of his body. rafe holds your jaw tightly to keep your head in place while he smokes his cigarette, tilting his head down to blow it into your mouth, giving you a long kiss after to shut you up. “chill, kid. we’re going back on tour in two days. you can handle two days without your little magazines, right?”

…”no.”

────────*𑁍༘⋆ ────────

the bell rings as you enter the gas station store, you instantly beeline towards the magazines. new 70s fashion, trends, ooo celebrity drama! you pick all the ones you want before making your way back to the front.

“girl missing if you see—“ you stop listening to what’s playing on the tiny television sat on top of the back counter when you see something that catches your attention.

you glance at the cashier who’s busy reading a newspaper and then at rafe outside with his sunglasses on, pumping gas into his cadillac. your sneaky hands stuff a tube of lip gloss and a lollipop into your bra; rafe wouldn’t let you get it on top of your magazines so you did what you had to. whoops!

rafe comes back in with his hands in his pockets, walking up to you who wandered back to the magazine section, “got everything?” he looks down at you from the top of his sunnies and you check just in case before nodding. rafe’s hand instantly collects everything in your hands, before he freezes when he sees something on the shelf that was hidden by the magazine you just picked up. rafe quickly grabs the paper before manhandling you into the store bathroom.

“rafe— what’re you—“ he quickly shuts you up, locking the door behind him, squeezing your shoulder to keep you still. “what the fuck is this?” he shouts, shoving the newspaper in your face. that’s a good picture of you!

“you’re— what— missing and wanted?!” he questions, looking confused and pissed as ever. rafe turns the paper back to him to read the description. “you stole money??”

you throw your hands up lazily while rolling your eyes at him, “rafe, you’re being over dramatic!” it was nothing to you since this wasn’t the first time this has happened.

“i’m being— for fucks sake! i can’t be seen with you, people are gonna think i kidnapped you! i— why the fuck are you on this newspaper?” rafe pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes before he does something. his hands grip your shoulder tighter, he slams you against the bathroom wall and looks you right in the eye. “kid, why are you on this newspaper?” he asks slowly with a condescending but calm tone.

“rafe, it’s a family thing. just ran away and ended up with you.” you mumble causing rafe to exasperatedly throw his hands up in the air. “are you— that doesn’t explain the money, kid. please tell me you have one reasonable thought in that brainless head of yours.”

you pout at his mean words and actions, wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t invite you backstage, just saying. “i did steal money but they’re only reporting me cause they want me back home!” your rich parents were crazy but i guess that’s where you got it from.

“m’taking you back.” rafe grumbles, tugging you towards the door, you instantly protest. “no, no! rafe you can’t! it’s sooo boring there! what if they make me marry some old man and it’s all gonna be your fault!” your words somehow convince him, rafe groans and stops.

“fine, fine!” he shouts, running his hand down his face before turning back to face you, wrapping his hand around your throat. “listen. there’s a pay phone outside and you’re gonna call your parents, alright? i’m gonna watch you do it so don’t you dare try anything.”

when you don’t respond, his jaw clenches in annoyance and his hand tightens around your neck. “huh?” he repeats in a more firmer tone, only letting go when you let out a choked “yes.”

he sighs, shooing you off meanwhile he collects himself in the bathroom for a second before he follows behind you. how did rafe get himself involved with an insane family? and how the hell did he manage to fall head over heels for a psycho upon first glance?

he can imagine the headlines already; rafe cameron, bigshot rock singer, kidnaps rich heiress. jesus christ.

#rockstar!rafe #troublemaker!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe cameron imagine

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nerdestiwrites · 2 months

Text

predator and prey (a hazbin hotel reader insert)

It had been just under a year since you died and ended up in Hell. It was a shock, at first, how could it not have been. You didn’t think Hell existed in the first place and yet you had woken up in a dark alleyway with the sky above a dark shade of red. The ground underneath you was wet in a liquid that reeked and there was trash of all kinds scattered above from beer bottles, empty chip bags, used needles, bags with unknown substances in it, and even gun shells.

It hadn’t been the red sky or the putrid smell of sulfur that made you realize where you were, it wasn’t even how you felt *different*. It took you stumbling out of the alleyway like a drunk, stumbling onto the street and seeing the residents of your new afterlife. They weren’t human, none of them were. Even the *human* looking ones had something fucked up going on with them. Horns, long claws, some were tiny while others towered over everyone. It was Hell, you came to realize, but Hell seemed scarily familiar to what you had just left.

What got you into Hell took a few days figuring out. You weren’t exactly a *good* person, but you hadn’t been *evil* either. You had been a drug user, dabbling in harder substances at parties but never an active user other than weed. You drank, more than you’d like to admit, it was easier to drink and hide everything than it was to face lifes never ending problems. You participated in corporate greed but only because it was forced upon you, if you didn’t you’d been homeless and dead sooner. Then there had been the kleptomania you had. It came in spurts. You’d steal things, sometimes without even thinking about it, other times it’d be purposeful. Sometimes you’d go months, even years without an incident. Perhaps you could’ve been less selfish, maybe less prideful, had less anger issues, but that was just part of being human, right?

The crimes seemed to stack against you, the more you thought about it. On top of not believing in God, you nearly checked every sin box there was and had your fair share of regrets. However instead of wallowing in self pity for ending up out of the frying pan and into the fires below, you decided to take this as a second chance. After all, as you had noticed quickly, Hell wasn’t all that different from the worst cities up on Earth anyway.

Getting to understand the hierarchy of Hell took all but one day to understand. After attempting to get a phone for yourself to keep up with everything, and because you could barely live without your phone when you were alive, souls seemed to have been one of the main forms currency. You didn’t make any deals, at least having that much of an understanding on how fucked you’d be if you did for something as simple as a phone. So instead, you stole a phone. What were they going to do if they caught you? Kill you? You were already dead, could you become dead times two? Dead squared?

It was in your second month of being in Hell that you understood who was considered an Overlord and who was a demon with just a handful of souls. There had been the TV demon that seemed to own every technological aspect of Hell, Vox. Everyone seemed to have been influenced by him or his colleagues in some way, the other Vs, other Overlords, as it was put. After the first broadcast you had witnessed, you quickly searched the Hell internet, hellternet, for any sort of VPN or antivirus program. You had a VPN back when you were alive, might as well have one now too, it might even be more important in Hell.

There was Carmilla, the arms dealer, who you’d her daughters briefly once. Rosie, another Overlord, a cannibal and leader of the accurately named Cannibal Town. Then there was Zestial, one of the oldest beings in Hell, according to everyone you had asked about. The Radio Demon, Alastor, was one to be weary of, you’ve heard the rumors of how quickly he became an Overlord, or more specifically *how*. Then a few more others that hadn’t made a big impression when hearing their stories.

It was in month three that you finally decided what you were going to do with your afterlife. Every sinner, or denizens as Hells occupants were called, were terrified of Overlords and overstepping. It was the power that could be felt radiating off of anyone who held more than just a couple souls, and those who started to gain some traction seemed to always be stopped. Like the Overlords who controlled Pride Ring wanted to keep their circle as small as possible.

You were going to break the system.

You were going to cause as much chaos for the Overlords as possible.

And you were going to do this without anyone knowing until it was too late to stop.

Two weeks after that you had made your first deal. Not for a soul of the other participant of the deal, but for a favor. Any favor to be redeemed whenever you saw fit. The demon, down on their luck and high out of their mind had been more than happy to make the deal. The catch you put in there was, the demon wouldn’t be able to say *who* they made a deal with, or what that deal entailed. If they did, then you’d own their soul. If they refused to repay the favor, you’d own their soul.

Three days later and another deal was struck, with the same fine print. A favor for a favor. Favors were everything, after all. And another deal just a day after that. And soon you had over two dozen deals by the end of the week, but no power as you owned no souls. So no one would even give you a second glance.

At five months you started to turn in a few favors, gaining a meeting with one of the Vs. Velvette to be more specific, as you figured she’d be easier to talk to and come to an understanding than the other Overlords. You and her weren’t that far apart in age, and you both knew the importance of how influencers truly ran the world, or rather Hell. You had dressed up, almost like you had been going to an interview, and had been glad you barely posted on any of the social medias that were run by Voxtech. It meant there was less that Velvette would be able to learn about you than what you had learned about her.

Velvette had made you wait twenty minutes over the agreed upon meeting time, but you had dealt with dozens of horrible interviews and managers that you easily sat in the office unaffected by the delay. It was a tactic of hoping to get the other to leave in annoyance or defeat, or get them frustrated to the point of being able to end the interview or meeting early. Good thing you knew these tricks already. So when the youngest Overlord walked into the room talking on the phone, you stayed seated, making no move to interrupt her.

“Make this quick, I’ve got a show to put on in twenty minutes.” Her voice was snappy, filled with disinterest, and she sat herself down in one of the chairs around the large table. Her eyes never left her phone as her fingers typed away, not giving any attention towards you.

You give a cocked eyebrow before nodding, standing now, just to stretch. “Right, well, I’ll make this quicker than a Voxtok video.” You started and the meeting lasted four minutes and ended with the exchange of numbers, gaining Velvettes personal phone number and an invite to a night out for drinks.

What had been said in that meeting was kept a secret, and those who tried to eavesdrop for Vox, as Velvette had pointed out might happen, had been quickly killed by the Overlord.

Month ten was when the Extermination happened. Your first time experiencing the slaughter of sinners from the Exorcists. Velvette invited you to stay with her and the Vs during the slaughter, but you declined offer, not one to be indebted to someone. You instead took chance of staying in your own little apartment, which you had upgraded some during your brief time in Hell, thanks to the favors those owed you.

After the Extermination, it had been an amazing playing field for deals. By the end of the week you had nearly doubled the favors people owed you, some demons coming back and now owed more than one favor. You could now spend favors and still be having an influx of them, so you used them to gain information on all the Overlords. As much as you possibly could. The two hardest Overlords to get information on were Zelestial and Alastor, who seemed to have been missing for seven years now.

A text appeared on your phone, pulling you out of thought as you sipped the steaming coffee from the mug. Your eyes scanned over the text, eyebrows furrowing slightly, before you grabbed the remote to the TV you had bought yourself. You knew that Vox could at any point use the device against you, but you had given him no reason to. You were a nobody after all, or that’s at least what he thought. With a click of a button, the TV flickered on and showed a broadcasted commercial briefly showing a Hotel before it was interrupted by the news. The next Extermination would be happening six months sooner. And chaos erupted outside on the streets.

Velvy: There was a meeting today between the Princess and Heaven

Velvy: My bets is the royal brat pissed off Heaven

Velvy: That commercial wasn’t even good. Don’t know how they managed to get it on the network without Vox knowing.

The texts came in quick and you read them over. So the Hotel had been the Princess’ project then? Perhaps meeting with the Princess of Hell now wouldn’t be a bad idea, perhaps you could give your input on the whole thing, maybe get on the royals good side even.

You: I’ll figure it out.

And with those words, you made plans to take a trip to the outskirts of the city to the hotel and see what the Princess had been doing.

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americas1suiteheart · 6 months

Text

Had this idea a little while back and decided to go on with it! Tell me how you guys feel about it.

Kleptomaniacs

[Tangerine x Kleptomaniac! Reader]

[Summary; You've been working with the twins for a good while now, and all whilst knowing them you've bonded with them through similar interests. For Lemon, Thomas the Tank Engine, and on the other hand as for Tangerine and you - kleptomania..]

[Notes; You've got a code name, so there's no use of Y/n but know that your "Citron," (When I tried to post this after finishing it up, tumblr gave out on me and deleted it completely off the face of the internet so I had to write it again. Thanks Tumblr)]

[Warnings; Swearing, Stealing, it's a Bullet Train fanfic what do you expect?]

"God are you guys seriously fuckin' doing this shit again? You guys are gonna get caught one day doing that and you two are gonna be fucked y'know that right?" Lemon groans.

You and Tangerine made a game to see how much shit you could steal before chickening out. You can't do anything worse than killing people for money so you two figured, why the hell not?

"Fuck off Lem," You and Tangerine say at the same time dismissing him.

"Citron, I think you've officially spent too much time with Tan."

"Hey you can't say shit Lem, you've brainwashed Citron here into thinking of people in terms of fuckin' Thomas the Train characters you twat," Tangerine says, sneaking a pack of sweets into his suit jacket.

"Don't say shit about Thomas the Tank Engine, and dont call me a twat, you're the right fuckin' twat you ass," Lemon says, pointing a finger at Tangerine.

"Will you two stop acting like children? I spend too much time with the both of you, and you've both got qualities that are fuckin' annoying, the both of you are twats." You groan, taking multiple trinkets and small toys and shoving them into your pocket.

"Fucks sake mate, your taking the fuckin' children's toys?"

"I can take what I want Lem, piss off," You hiss.

This is typically how you three interacted with eachother. Lots of bickering and cussing at eachother, almost like teenagers that just learned a new cuss word

You'd figured with the boys it was just how they talked being that they were siblings and grew up together. I mean, you had siblings too but you never talked that way with them. Maybe it was just the way they were raised.

But with you, maybe you started acting like them and having the same behaviour after knowing them for so long. You hadn't acted like this before you met them.

You and Tangerine had finally gotten your rush from taking things and you three left the store, walking to your car given to you guys for the mission.

"Alright, start countin' everything you have," You say, getting everything out of all of your pockets and such.

"You guys have a fuckin' problem, I've said it multiple times and I'll say it again. You need to fuckin' see someone about that shit." Lemon shakes his head disappointingly at you two.

You and Tangerine ignore him as to not loose count of your stolen items.

The two of you finally finish, then looking at eacother and saying what you had in total. "32," You smirk, overly confident you had more.

But you already know you've lost when a cheeky smile appears on Tangerine's face, "47."

Your mouth hangs agape, staying quiet for at least 20 seconds. That's the most either of you had ever taken the four years you've known eachother so far.

"The worst part is that most of that shit is just sweets," Lemon says breaking the silence.

"Fuck off Lem," Tangerine hisses.

"Got a sweet tooth eh?" You chuckle, poking fun at him.

"I aint got no fuckin' sweet tooth, the sweets just so happened to be the easiest and least childish things to steal." Tangerine says, turning on the car.

Tan always liked to uphold this "tough manly guy," sort of figure. For example, when you're at a petrol station market and you and Lemon are over getting sugary drinks such as pop or juice, you best believe Tan would be getting water or a black coffee calling you two children.

"And sweets aren't childish?" Lemon raises his eyebrow.

"I didn't even get them for me you fuckin' bellend, I know you two like that sugary shit." Tangerine says.

"Wow, when did Gordon become an Edward," You say, giving Tangerine a cheeky grin.

Tangerine just sighs in defeat, knowing you and Lemon will end up teasing him just to mess with him the rest of the time regardless.

The ride back to the hotel was fairly calm, you and Lemon eating the stolen sweets and showing off the small toys you took as well, when you suddenly remembered something else you'd gotten for the both of them at another shop.

"Lemon, can you hand me that bag right there please?" You say, pointing to the small, blue bag next to him.

Lemon nods and hands you the bag from the back, you reaching over to grab it from his hands.

You take out a small plastic wrapped Thomas The Tank Engine phone charm and hand it to Lemon.

Lemon's face immediately lights up as he takes it out of its packaging, putting it on his phone and fiddling with it.

"Got this for you too, Tan," You say, turning to him and handing him a small satin bag.

"You steal this too?" Tangerine says, glancing at the bag before returning his eyes to the road.

"No, no. I actually bought that, I don't steal sentimental gifts I give, I'm not a fuckin' monster," You say, putting your hand on your chest in fake offense.

Tangerine gives you a judgemental glance.

"What is it?" He asks, still holding the small bag in his hand.

"Open it,"

Tangerine smiles and opens the bag with one hand, taking out a silver and blue colored star engraved ring.

"Its a promise ring. I saw it in a shop and figured we should get matching ones. I hope its your size, I kinda just guessed," You say, showing him your right hand that the ring was on.

"This is lovely, darling. Thank you.." Tangerine says with a loving smile, quickly putting it on his right hand with all of his other rings.

"You two are just right fuckin' sops for eachother it's sickeningly sweet," Lemon says, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tangerine mumbles something both you and Lemon couldn't hear, though by the tone it was very clearly not anything nice.

After a while longer, you three finally make it back to the hotel, Lemon checks all of you in and you all walk up to your hotel room.

As soon as you get in Lemon sets his stuff down and heads to the restroom for a shower, leaving you and Tangerine alone with eachother as you two unpack your bags.

"Tangerine?" You speak out, turning to look at Tangerine who was putting his clothes into the bottom drawer of the hotel room dresser.

"Yes, love?" Tangerine says.

"Thank you. For staying with me even when we go through all this shit. It's stressful and keeping relationships has never been easy for me with this job, you're the only one that's stayed this long and I want to let you know how grateful I am for it." You say, putting what you were doing aside so you could talk to him without any distractions.

Tangerine's head perks up a bit, then turning to look at you.

He smiles sweetly and walks over to you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"Darling, you have no clue how happy I am that you've stayed with me the same. I know I can be difficult at times as well," Tangerine said, voice barely above a whisper.

You rarely ever get to see a softer side of Tan, but when you do you try to savor it as much as possible.

"You guys, are fuckin' disgusting. What I just saw there was right fucking nasty." Lemon says, standing in front of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Fuck off Lem."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

[Quick Authors Note! Sorry I haven't gotten to these requests and other stuff these past few months, I've been busy and have had other stuff get in the way. I know this isn't much but I'm trying to clean up my drafts.

#tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson #fluff

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tsams-and-co-memes · 17 days

Text

TSAMS Sunrise Canon Info

Sun's likes:

Cats (he owns two)

Dressing up his cats

TF2

Listening to/watching documentaries while he cleans

Red Dead Redemption and Baldur's Gate 3

Cult of the Lamb

Yellow (his favorite color)

Snapple (his favorite drink)

Hamburgers (his favorite food)

Spiderman

Sun's dislikes:

Squids

Insects

Balloon Boy

Hot water

Sea water

Taylor Swift

Garden gnomes

Sports

Salads

Kids (this was implied)

Eclipse

The creator

Bloodmoon

Roxanne

Minesweeper

Miscellaneous:

Sun tends to get very competitive with gaming

He’s watched the entirety of Dragon Ball Z

He has an obsession with cleaning and stacking the toy barrels/tumble barrels in the daycare. If they’re not adequately cleaned or stacked in a very specific way, he gets upset

He’s bought stilettos and tried on a dress before, while saying that he’s a pretty princess

He used to have a crush on Roxanne

He’s not good at dancing and really only moves the upper half of his body

Sun is pansexual (check for sources). He's not bisexual, so him being pan is slightly more likely

Sun has a car and knows how to drive

He isn’t very good at acting

He has a habit of cheating when playing competitive games

It’s been implied numerous times that Sun occasionally enjoys cross dressing

Old Moon has made a statement before, suggesting that Sun has kleptomania

Sun can read bar codes

He apparently knows the history of gravel and can talk about it for hours

He was programmed to know how to drive

His rays are made of plastic

He plays D&D and his character is a warlock

Sun grooms his rays like they’re his hair, and he uses ray polish to do so

Sun knows the history of Windex

Sun knows how to play Yu-Gi-Oh

Cleaning is one of the things that calms him and helps him focus

Sun panics sometimes when he's not doing anything, because he feels like he's not doing enough. Apparently this was triggered by Eclipse's return

Sun can't calm Moon down whenever Moon gets seriously upset, and Sun finds that "kinda scary" (<- exact wording from the therapy video). This means that on some level, Sun is afraid of Moon's anger, and of Moon acting irrationally when he's upset

Sun is the only janitor in the daycare

Sun's had a bird fly in his face before, and according to him, it's more annoying than scary

Sun's not good at bowling

He's eaten glitter glue at one point as a coping mechanism. He may or may not have also eaten sparkles

Sun knows how to grind coffee beans

He turned his basement into a cat den, and his cats have their own TV

Sun drinks (we don't know how often)

If he could be an animal, Sun would be a stingray

Sun doesn't clean the bottom of the ballpit

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams sun #tsams sun #sun and moon show sun #the sun and Moon show sun #canon info

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captainmera · 7 months

Note

I love that in your stories that include Hunter, whether it’s a TOH IBWR au, or TGB, he must have werewolf elements to his character haha. Do you have any ideas as to what the TOH Cast would look like in your IBWR Au? Particularly interested in the fae/peculiars elements? I love your designs for those types of characters in IBWR.

OF COURSE, HE'S SO WOLF CODED.

Fairies are colour coded. In folklore, it is said that fairies can only feel one thing at a time. This is not true, but the stories stem from that fairies have a "fairy-flaw" which is associated to their colour.

You recognise them by their pointy ears and... uniformely one-coloured stuff. In a green fairy's case, green hair, green eyes. And when they blush, it's a shade of green.

This emotion will, when felt, be so much stronger and all-consuming than any other emotion. A fairy has to be aware, and learn to control and regulate, that particular fairy-flaw.

However, fairies are also masters of one trait.

In folklore, fairies are often popping up as craftsmen. They make shoes, they make silk, they make clothes, mead, milk, etc. This stems from that fairies, when allowed to work with their fixation, become natural experts in their fields.

People often feel they are unfairly talented because they're fairies, and not because they learned like everyone else (which they did, it's just an analogy for being a gifted kid). and sabotages for them, either by excluding them or ensuring they can't pursue it.

Victorian England is, in majority, a christian culture. In England, they would categorise each fairy by a "sin". So, a green fairy's flaw would be envy/jealousy. For Willow, I think this works. At least if her life in IBWR meant she was kept away from doing what she wanted and often felt envy of those who got pursue what they want in life.

Fairies, also, if they are being influenced by their fairy-flaw, starts to turn the colour of it.

She would live with her dads, under the guise that one was her dad and the other was her godfather and simply just.. such a good friend to her "only" dad that he lives there as a roommate. You might be surprised to hear this wouldn't raise much eyebrows. Sounds reasonable! They own a store together after all! People would just often comment that it's such a shame they're both bachelors.

Werewolves are a controversial topic in the field of science at the time of when IBWR is taking place (1885), as they were moved from Erebus type to Beast type. People argue that, as they are associated with the moon and are coded as dangerous, they should remain in the erebus type. But they were moved to beast, as they are very dog-like in appearance.

Werewolves were not consulted on this re-categorisation.

Despite being moved to the beast type, they still practice within the sub-culture of Erebus types. Vampires, Night fairies and Banshees still acknowledges them as part of their group.

Werewolves are reduced, culturally and socially, to their looks and the horror stories that has been crafted around them. They are deemed barbaric, hound-like, uncivilised and.. Adorable. Werewolves struggle to find authentic people to socialize with, as most want to use them for their power. People don't think they have ambitions or intelligence larger than a canine.

I think this would fit Hunter, if he lived with his uncle, and Philip never considered Hunter's feelings. Just using him for what he was; a powerful henchman he could control and order around as he pleased - they're family after all.

Spriggans have a sense for mischief, trickery and has the ability to camouflage themselves just like chameleons. They are natural showmen, charismatic entertainers and cannot stop themselves around all that glitters. Like magpies, they collect things. It's a problem. They don't even mean to, it just kinda happens. Like a cat chasing a fly. Suddenly you're eating it and you sit there like "why did I do that. That was dumb."

Spriggans have a kleptomania problem. It is rarely even about actual riches, it can be spoons. An endless amount of spoons and they just can't help themselves. If you know a Spriggan's weakness, they'll knowingly make a bad bargain. They don't even want another damn spoon, but they just... It's a spoon. They don't have that spoon. They need that spoon. Good god the spoons. There are spriggans who have lost their homes to their unhealthy desire to collect. (pst, it's a metaphor for an addictive personality). Spriggans live both merry and unfortunate lives. They love life, they love people, but they get in trouble easily.

You'll find them in music halls, in thrifting shops, by the harbour, casinos, in any kind of sales work.

For Gus, I think he'd work in his dad's thrifting store and part time in a music hall! See the people, entertain the crowd! Perhaps find a watch that slips into his hand.... But Gus is a good boy. His dad taught him well! If you pick up something that isn't yours, say aloud "WOW WHAT A NICE THING." and put it back. It's difficult to walk away from something you loudly announce, and it gives him leeway to excuse himself for being eccentric and picking up what isn't his.

Perhaps Hunter and Gus meet at the music hall? :) I'm sure that's where they meet Willow too.

In this AU, I think Gus and Willow meets Luz, then Hunter, and lastly Amity. Perhaps whatever Philip is working with involves the blight family, and it conspires a story of drama, forbidden love and friendships from there. :P

Amity, a regular! a rich family with big expectations on their children. I like to imagine the blight twins are off to rebellious outlets! Like a music hall, and decides to bring their baby sister along. To which where she meets the gang.

Luz, a regular, who wants to be a witch! She wants to join the most powerful coven in all of England! But, ah-- She's not gifted. The Ashdown family does not hire people in their stores if they have no powerful fylgja of some sort. Or at the very least have the gift of sight.

Trying to learn witchcraft anyway, from a witch (Eda) who claims you don't have to be special to become a great witch, takes her in under her wing in the music hall The Owl House. She puts her to work there, and Luz is determined to work in exchange of learning witchcraft.

Luz soon discovers that witchcraft is... rather gruesome work. Blood, rituals, dead bodies and overbearing gods. But perhaps magic can be different? Maybe you could.. Do something else with it? That doesn't involve murdering innocent peculiars.

And there is.

She just got to figure out how. And maybe with her friends, she could. :P

So... basically what Theodore is doing. :l He would hire her in a heartbeat.

#toh ibwr au #ibwr #toh

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oftenwantedafton · 2 months

Text

Sticky Fingers - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Goth Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Summary - You’ve had a habit of taking things that don’t belong to you since childhood. The streak of kleptomania carries you though to adulthood, where you’ve decided to alleviate the boredom of your new office job by knicking whatever catches your eye.

Completely unaware that you yourself have caught someone else’s.

Also available on AO3

It starts with a compact mirror.

Just a cheap little thing with plastic gems, something that catches your eye when you’re out shopping with your mother and she’s distracted for an agonizingly long amount of time. It fits so neatly in your palm and slips into your jacket pocket effortlessly.

The propensity to steal extends into your teenage years and then into early adulthood and your collection has grown. Costume jewelry and makeup and candy. Nothing of any significant value. Just whatever you can curl your fingers around and stow away at a moment’s notice. You’re good at avoiding suspicion, sneaking quietly away in your dark oversized hoodies, slouchy ripped jeans with deep pockets and loosely laced combat boots that have plenty of room to spare for the odd trinket.

Today you’re killing some time at a strip mall before you head into work. A pot of black lip gloss smothered in silver diamond dust winks at you from one of the shelves. Your eyes light up, mascara coated lashes lifting appreciatively. Such an easy thing to palm. No pesky security tag. Your black polished nails tuck around it securely. You add a miniature version of a fragrance that smells like cotton candy from the neighboring store. Some little skull earrings covered in cubic zirconia, easy enough to slip off the card they’re secured to. Amateur hour. Hardly any challenge. You walk away scott free.

***

You started working at the office two weeks ago.

Just a little temp job. Clerical work. Filing papers. Guiding clients to the correct social workers. Making appointments. That sort of thing.

It’s profoundly boring and you find your fingers itching for something to occupy them. You’ve always stolen from stores. Personal property wasn’t something you’d attempted yet.

And there wasn’t exactly a treasure trove of goods at your fingertips here. You’d hardly call walking away with a stapler or a pack of gum from someone’s purse tucked under the desk a triumph.

So now you’re scanning the interiors of the inside offices for anything that might catch your eye.

There’s a little rabbit figurine. White, small, rather plain. Just a humble porcelain figure. You’re not especially fond of bunnies and it’s certainly not your typical goth aesthetic. But there’s something about it. You notice it every time you lead someone back to the owner’s office. Middle aged guy. Silver in his hair and beard. Glasses. Everything a decade or so out of date. Older office equipment and technology and furniture. Clothes that have probably been in his wardrobe rotation for years. And this odd little figurine. Just sitting on one of the shelves when you walk in the room. Maybe it had sentimental value. Something from childhood. You should just leave it be. Your hands reach for it anyway when he’s distracted with a client. Cool to touch. Into the sleeve of your sweater it goes. Perfect sleight of hand. Magician’s trick. Watch me make a white rabbit disappear.

You sneak it into your mini backpack when you get back to your desk. It’s enough for today, you decide.

The afternoon is the busiest time of day. Far more people prefer to conduct business well past morning hours. Maybe other commitments keep them occupied until then. Bringing children to school. A dislike for getting ready in the early morning. You can certainly relate to the latter notion.

An inter office call startles you near the end of the shift. You’d been just about to gather your things and clock out. Many of the other office staff have left already.

You don’t recognize the voice at first. Can’t quite put a face together with it. The man is requesting a client list for tomorrow. You hardly think this is a pressing matter at this hour. And he could certainly look it up himself on the computer. But fine. You’d do it. Your last official act of the workday.

Steve Raglan. Hmmm. It was kind of familiar, now that you thought about it a little longer. The pages are warm when they exit the printer. You notice some of the text is faded. The toner cartridge needs to be replaced. You have no idea where it’s kept. It was still legible. He’d just have to make do or wait until tomorrow morning.

You make your way to the back offices. Most of the doors are closed. It’s a lot quieter now. No ringing phones or keyboard tapping or conversation.

Steve Raglan. Up ahead on the right. Oh. Yes. The guy with the rabbit. You tap your knuckles on the open door to announce your entrance. Step inside and find the space empty. After all that and the bearded man wasn’t even here. Maybe he’d gone to use the restroom. Well, not your problem anyway. You place the pages on the center of the desk blotter. Notice a nice looking pen. One of those fancy steel types. Silver. Sure, why not. A fee for services rendered. Now tucked into the waistband of your skirt.

The elevator is notoriously slow. You press the downward arrow button again as if that will make the passage any swifter. A soft chime to indicate it’s arrived. You step inside. The doors nearly slide closed before a hand interrupts them. Open once more.

It’s him. Bunny man.

You depress the button for the parking garage and tuck yourself back against the railing. The man fills the space with his presence. He’s taller than you’d realized. Not heavy, just solid. Intimidating in the confines of the elevator. You feel his eyes on you.

“I dropped off that client list you wanted. I left it on your desk. Sorry if the quality isn’t great. The printer is out of toner and I don’t know where they keep the spares. I can print it again tomorrow if you want.” You know you’re babbling. Trying to fill the awkward silence. Maybe feeling a little guilty about what you’d pilfered today. Two items from this social worker. Maybe a tad excessive.

No response. Not a nod, not a grunt, nothing. Just him watching you with those widely spaced eyes of his. Looming. The elevator settles and chimes. You’ve reached your destination.

You attempt to step out of the elevator when Raglan’s arm snaps out, blocking your path. The doors slide closed again.

“Do you know what I find so interesting? How you felt the need to take something that has absolutely no value, save sentimentality for its owner. And then added insult to injury by stealing one of my favorite fucking pens.”

Your heart drops. Oh shit. He knows.

“And then you couldn’t even do me the simple courtesy of printing out a couple of pieces of paper.”

You swallow nervously. What was the play here? Feign innocence? Just admit guilt and return the items and apologize? What did he want from you?

“What’s the real reason behind it? Looking for attention? Some teen angst bullshit you never outgrew? What’s the matter, were you not the favorite child at home? You decided to lash out by dressing in clothing that’s a cross between funeral wear and street corner attire—”

“—I was just fucking bored, okay? That’s it. There’s no deep mystery behind it.” You’re pissed. His words cut a little too deep. It’s part of his skill set as a career counselor. Intuition. A knack for seeing past the surface, the false fronts people put up. Discerning intrinsic value. God, did you feel you were fucking lacking right about now.

“Boredom. That’s the reason? Are you not given enough work to do?”

“Look, I’ll give you your stuff back, okay? Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

“Unfortunately for you, I am not the type to forgive nor forget.”

“So what, you’re going to narc on me?”

A slight smirk. You don’t think you like him wearing that gesture. “Not necessarily. Maybe I could be persuaded, just this once, to make an exception.”

Wait. Did he mean…?

“Why don’t we start by putting back what you stole, shall we?” Steve pushes the button to return to the floor of the offices. He’s made no move to step away this time, still lingering close to you.

A soft chime and hiss as the doors part. Eerily quiet. The lights have been dimmed. You notice a white rabbit’s foot on the keyring when the career counselor unlocks his office door.

There’s a slight rattle of lampshade and a soft click when he turns the light on, bathing the room in a cozy yellow glow. He tosses the keys onto the desk and removes his glasses, slipping them inside the leather eyeglass case tucked beside the keyboard. Some scattered pocket change rests nearby.

He turns to face you, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. You slip your mini backpack off your shoulders and unzip the inner compartment, withdrawing and handing him the rabbit. He returns it to the shelf it had been on originally. It looks so small in his large hands.

You start to reach for the pen still snug against your waistband. His hand clamps on your wrist, halting your progress. Lets his fingers explore, tracing to find the point of origin. Stroking along the side of your waist. The hem of your turtleneck sweater is nearly cropped and doesn’t quite cover your abdomen, a small band of flesh exposed between the bottom of your top and the waist of your leather skirt. The pen is warm from your body heat. He drags it upward slowly. You hardly dare breathe. Your face tipped up and his dipped down. Freed at last.

Raglan rests the finial against your bottom lip. Presses slightly. Your lips part. Eases the writing utensil between them. The barrel drags against your tongue. You can taste the metal. A gradual advance of the encased ink reservoir. Further still. Your heart hammers in your chest. Lips clamp down, applying suction as he withdraws it again. His breathing is loud, rapid. The metallic object drops from his fingers and lands on the carpet. His tongue replaces the void the pen has left behind.

You’d known he was about to kiss you, but it still catches you off guard. He presses against you and you stumble, colliding back against the table housing a coffee maker and corresponding supplies. The carafe rattles, packets of sugar spilling free of the bin they’re seated in. Those giant hands of his are now cupping your ass over the layers of panties and skirt. You’ve got a handful of his tie. Some ridiculous shade of purple. He’s stealing all your breath and you find yourself enjoying it, as insane as that sounds. Kissing a virtual stranger. Someone who’s old enough to be your father. And you like it.

You nip at his bottom lip. He releases your buttocks and tugs on your hair. Paints your throat with saliva. You hear a car alarm go off somewhere in the distance outside. Police siren. The office is downtown. There’s always something happening.

A hand up your skirt now. Your thigh high tights have roses embroidered on them. Calloused fingertips catch on the raised threads. You wonder what’s made them so rough. His beard is scratchy. You’ve never had a boyfriend with facial hair before. Fingers pressing at your crotch through the fabric of your panties, already damp with arousal. You feel him smile against your neck.

“Look at you. Shamelessly soaked,” he murmurs. “And why wouldn’t you be, dressed like this?” He’s inside your underwear now, scooping your fluid from your entrance and smothering your clit with it. You whimper. “You wanted to get attention and now you’ve got it, don’t you? Teasing and begging and…” His voice trails off softly, at odds with the finger he abruptly thrusts inside, eliciting a moan. “It’s going to be a tight fit, isn’t it?”

Steve works his finger in and out for a while, dragging a few more groans out of you before he adds a second. Your grip on his tie tightens. You hear some more things being dislodged from their orderly storage behind you. Catch sight of some red and blue flashing lights in your peripheral vision through the window, a response to wherever incident happened outdoors a little while ago.

“Your lips looked so good sucking my pen. I bet they’d be even more impressive wrapped around my cock.” The paired phalanges abandon your dripping pussy. He sucks them clean and then pushes on your shoulders. You take the hint and sink to your knees. A belt that looks very old with deep creases is the first barrier to your goal. Button and a zipper that catches stubbornly. Some rather lackluster briefs. What’s inside more than makes up for it.

Cut, flushed, thick and long. Stiff leather of your boots protesting against the way they’re placed, folding down over your toes. Your tongue swipes across his erection. He pushes down and guides it between your lips. Hand knotted in your hair. He’s taking charge, fucking into your mouth. Almost a gentleman at first, slow pace, shallow penetration. Letting you get accustomed to the size and feel of it. He tastes clean. You can detect a lingering scent of whatever soap he’d showered with that morning on his skin as he drags you closer to his body. Jerked away. Dragged closer. Slightly faster now. Inevitably your gag reflex protests at the intrusion. Too much saliva pooled in your mouth. The head of his cock stroking the inside of your cheek. Jabbing your throat. Making you struggle for air. Eyes pleading for mercy.

“So fucking good. I knew you would be. Swallowing that cock right down. I’d love to fill that mouth up but your cunt deserves a taste too.” He finally releases his grip in your hair and his prick slides free. Your chin is covered in spit. So is your neck. Several strands of hair are wetly clumped together. Eyes burning a little where the makeup has smudged. You’re willing to bet your features are dusted in silver glitter and smudged with streaks of charcoal.

He helps you to your feet, easily pulling you upright, then indicating for you to turn around and bend over. Skirt unzipped and moved. Panties tugged down to rest somewhere around your stocking clad knees. Your coworker fucks into you.

Your fingers reach for the table, wrapping around the edge. There is no introductory phase. He’s sunk down to the hilt. You are full. Stretched. A new ache to match your still stinging lips and sore throat.

“So fucking tight. But you’re taking me so well.”

You gasp short little pleas. For him to stop, for him to continue. You’re not sure which. A gnawing feeling deep inside. A light smack on one cheek. Fingers blanching newly reddened skin when they grip tightly. No one’s ever gotten you off this way. This vintage model of a man is going to be the first to do so. A buildup of pressure. The other hand now slapped down to grab your waist, the thrusts shuddering, sloppier, more frantic. Closer. Your pelvis shoving back to meet him. A wail of pleasure as the feeling crashes within you. A curse and a hot stream of fluid painting your insides. It leaks down over the stitched flowers and stems and thorns covering your thighs when he pulls out.

You already notice muscles protesting as you straighten up. You’re going to feel this even more tomorrow morning for certain. Steve’s already adjusted his clothing. You tug your panties back into place and zip your skirt back up. You’ll hit the restroom on the way out to finish cleaning up.

The career counselor retrieves the steel pen from the floor, tapping it against his palm before holding it out to you.

“Keep it.”

You accept the offering and it disappears, securely tucked away again.

“The toner cartridges are in the storage closet near the entrance. Middle shelf left side. I expect a new list on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

You nod, watching as he quickly straightens out the coffee bar and switches the desk lamp off before exiting the office and locking it once again. You’re more than a little taken aback by how casual the conversation is, considering he’d been fucking your brains out mere moments before.

“And one last thing. Keep your fucking sticky fingers to yourself. If you’re that bored, come see me. I’m sure I can find something to keep you occupied.”

Another smirk. You think you might like that little gesture after all.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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