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kennahjune · 11 months ago

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Teen Dad

Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.

Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.

Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.

Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.

But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.

Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.

But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?

That’s just fucked up.

But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.

He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.

It’s fine.

And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.

Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.

She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.

And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).

Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.

The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.

And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.

Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.

But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.

Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.

And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.

It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.

Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.

Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.

The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.

Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.

He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.

And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.

But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce— even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.

He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.

But he did it.

And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.

Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.

And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.

And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—

It’s not a good night.

But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.

Because what about Louie?

Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.

Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—

But Hoppers dead.

So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.

He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.

His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.

Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.

The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.

Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.

The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.

“You Harrington?”

Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.

They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.

Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.

Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.

Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.

“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”

Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.

Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.

They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.

And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.

First Part:

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #will byers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #el hopper #jim hopper #joyce byers #claudia henderson #steddie #teen dad steve harringon #I’m lazy with the tags today sorry guys

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esquen · 1 year ago

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Since seeing the movie I can't stop thinking about Mike x Abbys babysitter reader 🫢

oh u guys are gonna KILL ME!!!

reader has female anatomy.

you’d been abby’s go to babysitter since you moved in next door. she was very young, probably five or four. her brother had seen you painting your fence and made his way over to you to try and make small talk.

“yeah, we’ve lived here since she was born,” he explained as you stood up, leaving your brush in the paint bucket. “been lookin’ for a babysitter since i started my new job.” he shrugged. you celebrated mentally, as you’d been waiting for a job to pop up around you. this is exactly what you needed.

fast forward a good four years, you’d been spending your days at the schmidt house. your pay slowly decreased as mike continued to find it hard to pay his bills, but you didn’t mind. you had your own job that would keep you afloat with your bills, and the extra money you received from mike would cover your clothes and food.

this day wasn’t any different from the previous three weeks. laid up on the couch with your own blanket you brung from home, awaiting mike’s arrival. the tv was buzzing quietly as your eyes became droopy.

the sound of the door opening startled you, pushing yourself onto your knees to greet mike. “hey.” you said softly as he kicked his shoes off and waddled towards the small couch, jumping onto it. “hi.” he greeted, closing his eyes for a second.

“abby ate a few bites of her dinner, breakfast is in the microwave. she’s been in bed since you left and i made sure she brushed her teeth and finished her homework,” you ran down, kicking the blanket off and standing up. “i should go.” you sigh.

mike stands up quickly, grabbing your shirt. “hold on,” he grunts, standing in front of you now. “i’m sorry i haven’t been able to pay you—“ he mutters.

“mike, we have this conversation every week. it’s okay, i swear.” you laugh, moving to hold his wrist. “i know you put a lot of effort into taking care of abby.” he mutters, moving closer to you.

“yeah..” you let out a breathy sigh, hands shaking as he moves his hand from you. “you deserve.. something.” he shrugs, hands coming up to hold your hips.

you gasped at the sudden movement, moving your hands down to grasp his wrists, your eyes scan his face. “is this okay?” he asks, moving his left hand to hold your back and press you closer to him.

you nod, hands moving up his arms and holding him tightly. he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your lips, making you melt. you whimper into his mouth, causing his grip on your hips to tighten.

he moves you towards his bedroom, lips never leaving your skin as he watches out behind you to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

he slams the door shut with his foot, and it almost alarms you at the fact that he could’ve easily woken up abby. he moves his hand from your hip to lock the door, continuing to gently push you towards the bed. “how long has it been since you started babysitting abby?” he asked as his lips made contact with your neck.

“i— i don’t know.. a few years, three or four?” you choke out, moving to hold the back of his head. “been wantin’ you for so long,” he mutters, sucking a bit harder on the base of your neck. “about time i get to have you.” he sighs.

his fingers move to the band of your sweatpants, grabbing them and pulling it down feverishly. his warm hands make contact with your thighs, pulling them apart and feeling at your cunt.

“mm, you like this more than i do.” he teases, pressing a kiss to your tummy and leaning further down into you. he wraps his arms around the base of your thighs and pulls your underwear to the side, licking his lips before pulling you into his mouth.

the initial feeling of his mouth made you gasp, hand moving down to hold his hair. the grip he had on your thighs made it impossible to scoot away from his tongue as he basically made out with your pussy.

to stabilize yourself, you grabbed at the sheets of his bed as his tongue made constant contact with your clit. you winced, moving to hold your shirt up and watch him eat you like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

the closer you got to your orgasm, the harsher you got on his hair. you began to push his head away, squirm your hips, and bite into your hand. and everytime, he shook your hand away, held your tighter, and flicked his tongue faster.

he had no problem finishing you up. you shook gently as your orgasm passed through you, and mike happily pressed another kiss to your swollen clit.

he reached into his back pocket and took out a $20 bill, holding it out to you. “i thought you said.. you couldn’t?” you asked, grabbing the bill gently.

“i know. had to find a way to get you on my tongue.” he smiled and pat the side of your thigh, moving your sweatpants back into place just as abby’s room door opened up.

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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babybluelove2 · 1 year ago

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i have playlists and they r shorter than i want them to be cus my music taste is v tumblr teen girl disaster but. but! i can contribute

warning this got so long proceed w caution

richie:

i dont wanna be funny anymore ~ lucy dacus

I don't wanna be funny anymore / Lately I've been feeling like the odd man out / I hurt my friends saying things I don't mean out loud

short excerpt but there really is no explanation needed at all

soap ~ melanie martinez

I think I left the faucet running / Now my word are filling up the tub / Darling, you're just soaking in it / But I know you'll get out the minute / You notice all your fingers pruning up ... Let me under your skin / Uh oh, there it goes / I said too much it overflowed / Why do I always spill? / I feel it coming out my throat / Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap / God, I wish I never spoke / Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap

this song is basically just richie in his head after feeling anything romantic whatsoever. hes so afraid of going too far and he thinks he is unlovable which is stupid but whatever

bad astrology ~ flower face

I wish I didn't hate myself so much / Now my body's out of touch again / It doesn't get me any closer / Just to hold you in my mind anymore / When I lock the door, well, ha-ha-ha ... Baby, take it easy, nobody's crying for you ... Baby, take it easy, nobody's dying for you

this whole song is exactly how i view him but its on a deeper level than we get to know him in the movie. this song is him as ive gotten to understand him better and i know it is about an abusive relationship but its him self-destructing and pushing others away and hvvhuvicyxryhfytc although i think this can be combined with 2017 richie if u think about it in a certain light

venice bitch ~ lana del rey

And as the summer fades away / Nothing gold can stay / You write, I tour, we make it work / You're beautiful and I'm insane / We're American-made ... La-la-la-la-la-la, losers, beautiful losers / Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whatever, everything, whatever

i see this as a losers club song in general but its def from richies pov. and the ice cream line makes me think of that reddie scene from the 2017 movie

cherry ~ lana del rey

A touch / From your real love / Is like heaven takin' the place of something evil / And letting it burn off from the rush, yeah, yeah / (Fuck!) ... My celluloid scenes are torn at the seams / And I fall to pieces (bitch) / I fall to pieces when I'm with you

richie is such a hopeless romantic but in a more internal way than ben. ugh cherry is so him i dont even have the words to explain why. also the swearing in the backing vocals?? do i have to go on??

mirrorball ~ taylor swift

I want you to know / I'm a mirrorball / I can change everything about me to fit in / You are not like the regulars / The masquerade revelers / Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten ... And they called off the circus, burned the disco down / When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns / I'm still on that tightrope / I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me / And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why / I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try / I'm still on that trapeze / I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

sorry that is such a long excerpt from the song but i couldnt find anything to cut its all so him. personally i think mirrorball is overused in describing characters but richie is literally a cookie-cutter-perfect mirrorball character w him hiding behind the voices and whatnot. a little stozier too cus i am a firm believer that richie hides parts of himself he doesnt want to burden the other losers with based off of misplaced ideas about his role in the group but can not hide from stan. i want you to know is to stan

angel landing ~ pretty sick

It's been too long for me to tell you / Something so out of line / But I'll just keep it to myself ... I wish I could speak and have you understand me / I wish I could be without an angel landing ... Some problems are never to be resolved / As neither one o us lives long enough / To see the other give in / Is love so clear? / Is it not distorted? / Like the way that you look at yourself in the mirror / And the way you look in person

this is one of my favorite songs ever. i think saying this song is bill is kind of a shallow take especially when it fits richie so much better. he hides behind all these fake personas because he is so afraid of who he is when there really is no need for him to be cus he is such an amazing person

kill v. maim ~ grimes

I got in a fight, I was indisposed / I was in despite all the wicked prose / But I'm only a man / And I do what I can ... B-E-H-A-V-E arrest us / Italiana mobster looking so precious, uh / B-E-H-A-V-E never more / You gave up being good when you declared a state of war / Eh, oh, don't behave, oh don't behave, oh ... You're goin' to the party and you're goin' to the show ... I did something bad, maybe I was wrong / Sometimes people say that I'm a big time-bomb ... The fire hurts alright / The people touch it / I can't touch it, even though it's mine

its the vibes so the vibes. this is richies theme song to me even if nobody gets it. grimes is so messy in lowk a way i love and the lyrics dont really make sense and it is just so richie. didnt she say that this song was from the perspective of al pacino in the godfather part ii if he was a vampire who can travel through space and switch genders? anyway richie

honorable mentions : soap~melanie (a classic reddie song from richies pov), nurses office~melanie (i see people putting this as an eddie song cus of the name but really its richie), superstar~angel landing (self-destructing loser stop it)

eddie:

vampire banquet ~ fox academy

(there is lots of repetition in this song this is just the general idea) Ivory ceilings / Burgundy walls / There's blood I can feel it / As we float through the halls / And when you bite my skin / The whole room gets dim / Vampire banquet / And we're never gonna make it / We're locked in a room / There's no getting out

this is a v claustrophobic and trapped feeling song that reminds me of eddie in how he is so afraid in exactly the way the song is scary and still somehow manages to be brave. i have lots of thoughts on this but i will leave it at that

oblivion ~ grimes

I never walk about after dark / It's my point of view / 'Cause someone could break your neck / Coming up behind you / Always coming and you'd never have a clue ... I need someone else / To look into my eyes and tell me "Girl you know you've gotta watch your health" / To look into my eyes and tell me / La la la la la

the above excerpt xrtcyvubin eddie eddie eddie ok. important explanation cus i was iffy and it feels neccessary. grimes wrote oblivion about her sexual assault so it is a vulnerable song and i dont want to take away any meaning from that but i think different interpretations of songs allow for music to have meaning to listeners as much as it does to the artist. oblivion has this paranoid resonance to it which feels v eddie. it is a terrified sort of helplessness that bleeds throughout the sound like he has no control over something bad he knows is going to happen to him or his friends

hug all ur friends ~ cavetown

Sing me a song, tell me your thoughts / I could listen to you all night long / And I don't care about my sleeping routine / I've fucked it up as it is, but we've got so much time to kill / As the night rocks me to sleep ... Life's too short / To worry about things we got wrong / So hug all your friends and let them know / You're not letting go / No, I won't let go, oh ... When the night turns cold my thoughts feel like stone / And it's nothing I can't change / But I can't breathe anymore / I forgot how to walk by myself / I could do with a little more of your help

i think people dislike cavetown but i only know like four of his songs and this one is in fact eddie kaspbrak coded so....eddie is just so caring and people seem to forget that. they need to stop doing that

recess ~ melanie martinez

I was too young / To see the truth / In my grandma's lap, I'm drowning in her perfume / Too naive to even care / 'Bout the words she whispered while she brushed out my hair ... When I get upset / I think in my head / "I do as she says" ... People gonna try / To tell you that you're fine with dollars in their eyes ... Don't let them hurt you, baby / Just say, "Recess, I'm tired"

the majority of this song just boils down to sonia fucking kaspbrak and her fucking w eddie's mind. that bitch

grow ~ conan gray

Yeah, I think I'm ready for / Running on concrete / Electricity / I finally can breathe / I think I'm ready for / Only you and me / We made it out, it seems / I made it out, it seems / I think I'm ready to / Grow, to grow / To grow, to grow / Yeah I see it comin', I see it comin' / Oh boy, I'm runnin' / And oh boy, I'm runnin', runnin'

after everything is said and done, this is eddie. this is eddie who he was meant to be. let him run let him run let him runrunrun

honorable mentions : another life~flower face (reddie love song from eddies pov), isobel~flower face (i cant tell if this song is so him or if it is the furthest thing from him ever), germaphobe~mim jensen (the name. its a shallow take but u can have it if u want)

stan:

birdhouse in your soul ~ they might be giants

I'm your only friend / I'm not your only friend / But I'm a little glowing friend / But really I'm not actually your friend / But I am ... Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch / Who watches over you / Make a little birdhouse in your soul / Not to put too fine a point on it / Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet / Make a little birdhouse in your soul

this fuckiniggfhaib song about a nightlight makes me think of stan every time it comes on. free me of my birdhouse-in-your-soul-stemmed stan brainrot please

mini alex g speed round

the same ~ alex g

I was a girl / I was the only kid in the world, I thought I knew / What it meant to you / But I'm wrong / I'm wrong, I'm wrong ... I'm not okay / In fact, I'm sick today, I'm on the floor / It's such a bore / It's nothing new to you ... I'll be downstairs, let me do my hair / And put my makeup on, it feels so wrong / You say "Rock on" / I'm not the same ... Too fast, too slow, too late / You are never gonna make it / You're never gonna make it

this song is obviously from the perspective of a girl but it is a girl who thinks the same way stan does. how he is so set on his world view but that gets messed up and it tears him apart. and the you he is talking about is richie. stozier best friends means the world to me

time/space ~ alex g

Hold on tight / To this time, this place / Cause everything you know / Will be erased / You were born / Inside your head / And that is where you'll be / When you are dead / You're just a boy / You are no man / And nobody you know / Will understand

same idea and my stan playlist is long and mostly characterizes him similarly throughout the songs so some of these explanations might be shorter even if all the songs are accurate enough that i feel the need to put them on this list

allen street ~ pretty sick

Out on Allen Street, it's 7 in the morning / If I help him up, will he give me fair warning? / Let me lick the wounds I got while I was out last night ... Nothing's gonna last forever / I feel better safe than sorry ... (tw!!) Cut myself up now, it makes me feel more holy

another song that reminds me of stans thought process. it's almost like he is trying to self-preserve but he is just terrible at it

void ~ melanie martinez

It's tastin' kinda lonely / And my mind wants to control me / Ah-ah-ah empty / There's rotten things left in me / Injected by society / No one here but me to judge me ... I fear I won't live to see the day tomorrow / Someone tell me if this is Hell ... Bloody, like a body that has died, and it's myself / Tangled in my own intestines

stans character arc and main barriers are all connected with his internal struggles. and his fear. the last bit of the lyrics i copied down put it so well

flower face!

sleeping season ~ flower face

Hey / Where'd you get those shadows on your face? / And promise you'll put flowers on my grave / You know I'm counting down the days / Wait / Our bitter hearts are made out of sand / Let me give you all the love that I have / Before it slips right through my hands ... Now this world's not right, they're breaking down your door / Why / Do you let them eat away at your mind? / Now you're walking like a dog in the night / But you look like an angel in the light

both the first and second person resonate with stan

spiracle ~ flower face

I want the parts of your hand-grenade heart / That beat slowly with anger and fear / I want the parts of you you only show / To the birds outside your bedroom window / I want the teeth that you lost as a child / That you hide in a box under your pillow ... I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing ... I want your safe word, your passive resistance ... And I want your nightmares, the ghost in your doorway / Your paralyzed sleep and your *scream*

any of the losers to stan. the way she describes this second person feels v stan

october birds ~ flower face

Where'd the October birds go? / I used to watch them from the window / When I had eyes to see / When I was more like me ... But I've never seen a staircase without dreaming of falling ... And I haven't seen war, but I've tasted the sand / I've died five hundred times with your flag in my hand ... No man is an island, I'm the girl on your shoreline / Washed up and heaving, pathetically breathing

every time i find a stan-coded song with bird motifs a fairy gets its wings

lana del rey now cus i listen to so much lana

love song ~ lana del rey

We go fast, we go so fast, we don't move ... In your car, I'm a star, and I'm burnin' through you ... I'm a fuckin' mess, but I / Oh, thanks for the high life / Baby, it's the best, passed the test, and yes / Now I'm here with you, and I / Would like to think that you would stick around / You know that I'd just die to make you proud

stan to bill with how stan subtly highlights bill while still idolizing him in the way that all the losers do

blue velvet ~ lana del rey

She wore blue velvet / Bluer than velvet was the night / Softer than satin was the light / From the stars ... But when she left / Gone was the glow of / Blue velvet / But in my heart they'll always be / Precious and warm, a memory / Through the years / And I still can't see / Blue velvet through my tears

after the twenty-seven years the phone call when things were never the same. idk about anyone else but i felt stans absence and the losers did too

fingertips ~ lana del rey

Will I die? Or will I get to that ten-year mark? / Where I beat the extinction of telomeres? ... Will I have one of mine? / Can I handle it even if I do? / You said that I might / It's not fair or so they said / To carry a child / I guess I'll be fine ... It wasn't my idea the cocktail of things that twist neurons inside / But without them, I'd die / They say there's irony in the music, it's a tragedy / I see nothing Greek in it ... To get to you, save you if I take my life / Find your astral body, put it into my eyes / Give you two seconds to cry

a deeply personal and vulnerable song for lana and it fits with stan for whatever reason. the bit concerning uncertainties about having a kid and how it affected him and patty and how stan knew that he was the one that was preventing it from happening even if it wasnt consciously. and the rest of it is simply put sad.

last artist i swear: duster unfortunately w their depressing music

orbitron ~ duster

You know the clock is ticking down / And no one's in control / And though the orbit's all been planned / What happens when you launch it? / You're not the first to set foot here / Just another / And I know you're terrified / Like the rest of us

control. there is no control stan wants control he is scared because everything is so unexplainable

constellations ~ duster

Constellations / Put it to rest / Terror again / Horror in town / No sleep 'til then / Turn down the lights / Don't fuck around / No ins and outs

i don't really have to explain this one tbh

i want you ~ mitski

I want you / I hold one card / That I can't use / But I want you ... You're coming back / And it's the end of the world / We're starting over / And I love you, darling / And I am done, dear ... I found you / I found the door / But when I stepped through / There was no floor ... I want you

stan to bill stan to mike stan to the losers that he cares so much about but he feels like he will only hurt them by coming back. he cant do it he cares so much about them that he cant do it

off topic : the door line paints the picture of eddie falling through the floor in neibolt in my mind

honorable mentions : stars will fall~duster (this is a stan song there just isnt enough lyrics for me to justify properly putting it on this list), oh no!~marina (yeah), twilight~bôa (this song is about a love triangle basically but it just feels stan to me), poison tree~grouper (the poison tree growing in him metaphor just works for stan)

ben:

light shower ~ melanie martinez

You are the light I've been searchin' for forever / Feels like, man, I've really never felt the rain / Buried in the desert, didn't think / I'd push through the dirt ... You cranked the heat up, I was cold, my past grew mold around my heart / And all my anger, sadness, regret disappeared / It's madness, I'm not used to all this water, love, it's true

my ben playlist is short sadly but this song does such a good job at describing how the losers affected ben who is a deeply lonely character beautifully enough that it makes up for it. its the kind of loneliness that you dont recognize because you havent felt anything but. im pretty sure theres a whole passage in the book about it. the losers gave ben the community he needed and rsdtfyguhbibou

the state of dreaming ~ marina

Millions of girls float on that one quote / Living on their last hope, on their last hope / I live my life inside a dream, only waking when I sleep / I would sell my sorry soul if I could have it all ... All I really want is to be wonderful / People in this town they, they can be so cruel ... If only you knew my dear how I live my life in fear

i feel like i might have made this up so i apologize if i mixed up my characterization of ben somewhere with his mischaracterization in the recent movies but didn't he like to read like fiction? am i making this up? even if not this song is ben cause i feel like it is <3

pity party ~ melanie martinez

Why'd I put my heart on every cursive letter / Tell me why the hell no one is here / Tell me what to do to make it all feel better / Maybe it's a cruel joke on me / Whatever, whatever ... It's my party and I'll cry if I want to ... Maybe if I knew all of them well / I wouldn't have been trapped inside this hell that holds me

a pretty surface level song that again has the loneliness motif. i love the heart on every cursive letter line for ben though. love it so much it fits so well

honorable mentions : the other woman~ldr (low blow but feeling like the second choice), puppy love~ldr unreleased (its just so cute pure love awww hes so romance ytcgvuhbjn), cowboy like me~taylor swift (does this fit whatsoever? no. am i willing to bend the intended meaning to describe ben with a song called cowboy like me? absolutely)

bev:

I FORGOT ABOUT MY BEV PLAYLIST DESCRIPTION WHAT "effy stonem more tragic less tumblr with 10x more fiery fiona apple fury" someone please stop me i was evidently upset about the manic-pixie-dream-girl-ification of 2017 bev when making this playlist. effy stonem is foul

anyway

family tree (intro) ~ ethel cain

Jesus can always reject his father / But he cannot escape his mother's blood / He'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers / But he'll never escape what he's made up of ... The Fates already fucked me sideways / Swinging by my neck from the family tree / He'll laugh and say, "You know I raised you better than this" / Then leave me hanging so they all can laugh at me

next! (sorry)

fast as you can ~ fiona apple

I let the beast in too soon / I don't know how to live without my hand on his throat / I fight him always and still ... I may be soft in your palm / But I'll soon grow hungry for a fight / And I will not let you win / My pretty mouth will frame the phrases / That will disprove your faith in man / So if you catch me trying to find my way into your heart / From under your skin / Fast as you can, baby / Scratch me out, free yourself ... Fast as you can, baby / Wait, watch me, I'll be out / Fast as I can, maybe late but at least about

long excerpt because this song is bev. fiona apple in general is so very beverly marsh this song is just the one that i think is the most her. i am a firm believer that bev would listen to fiona apple. also fuck tom rogan and her dad. beat them up bev! fight for yourself! i love you!

melanie martinez time bc i obviously listen to a lot of her

nymphology ~ melanie martinez

Call me your nymph / Praise me for martyr, praise me for sin / Call me your muse / A sprite or an elf you cry to, then use ... Auctioned to a selfish man who thinks that he's the prophecy ... I'm not fiction, I'm not fae, I won't lick your wounds today / But I'll throw you in the ring, gift you with my sufferin' ... Diamonds and rubies, the star in all the movies / Wears me out, big pockets, I am her favorite locket ... Where did I get refined, get my cuts and my polishes?

looking at this playlist it is kinda anti-men whoops <3 same idea i love strong female characters screw stephen king and his misogyny and bevs manic pixie dream girl persona ok? thats the biggest thing to get out of these songs

recess ~ melanie martinez

People gonna say / If you need a break, someone'll take your place / People gonna try / To tell you that your fine with dollars in their eyes / Just remember / Don't let them fuck you, honey, no, oh / Don't let them try / Don't let them hurt you, baby / Just say, "Recess, I'm tired" ... Where is my time? / Gone in my mind / Gone, I can't find / Euphoria

yes this song was also in eddies playlist but its a different interpretation for bev which u can tell from the lyrics i chose to copy down. dont have much of an explanation for this one i think its pretty self-explanatory

a burning hill ~ mitski

Today I will wear my white button-down / I'm tired of wanting more / I think I'm finally worn ... And I've been a forest fire / I am a forest fire / And I am the fire and I am the forest / And I am a witness watching it / I stand in a valley watching it ... So today, I will wear my white button-down / I can at least be neat / Walk out and be seen as clean

bev bev bev firstly the fire thing makes me think of her neibolt version but like in her own perspective. does that make any sense? she is the fire and the forest and a witness.

"I want to run towards something, not away!" she is tired of wanting more!! she wanted to run towards something but where did that get her !! its just easier to be seen as clean !! yuftuyig8yuvoug

miss lizzy grant!!

cinnamon girl ~ lana del rey

Violet, blue, green, red to keep me out / I win / There's things I want to say to you / But I'll just let you live / Like if you hold me without hurting me / You'll be the first who ever did ... Kerosene in my hands / You make me mad, I'm fire again

her to the losers. her to the losers her to the losers !!!!

mariners apartment complex ~ lana del rey

You took my sadness out of context / At the Mariners Apartment Complex / I ain't no candle in the wind / I'm the bolt, the lightning, the thunder / Kind of girl who's gonna make you wonder / Who you are and who you've been ... Don't look too far, right where you are, that's where I am / I'm your man ... They mistook my kindness for weakness / I fucked up, I know that, but Jesus / Can't a girl just do the best she can? / Catch a wave and take in the sweetness / Think about it, the darkness, the deepness / All the things that make me who I am ... When everyone's talking, you can make a stand

i ended bev with this song specifically because it showcases all the best parts of her character. she has so much to give and so much to help the world after everything. she wants to run towards something it is so important to her to make a stand

honorable mentions : cigarettes out the window~tv girl (tv girls music is lowk misogynistic so i couldnt put it on the playlist but it is the correct bev vibes), father~the front bottoms (low low blow after family tree i am not putting this in there), limp~fiona apple (an example of another fiona apple song that is v her)

mike:

some things cosmic ~ angel olsen

I promise you my word / If we should part / My dear, dear love / You know you're in my heart / And though I may be getting older / Know that I'm coming with you / Know that I'm hanging on to / The things that you said ... If cosmic force is real at all / It's come between you and I / I want to be naked / I don't mean my body / I don't mean my body / I'm floating away

mike is the last to join the group and the one who has to sit with the memories and bring them all back. the fact that the losers had enough of an impact on him for him to do that. mike in that twenty-seven years stuck without anything to do but wait. it makes me so sad. fucking bill denbrough with his undeniable leadership changing the trajectory of a bunch of kids lives forever

california ~ lana del rey

You don't ever have to / Be stronger than you really are / When you're lyin' in my arms, baby ... I wanted to reach out, but I never said a thing ... Oh, I'll pick you up / If you come back to America / Just hit me up / 'Cause this is crazy love ... You're scared to win, scared to lose / I've heard the war was over if you really choose / The one in and around you

mike is such a rock for the rest of the losers. his reliability and grounded-ness is the reason why he was undeniably the one who had to stay

father and son ~ johnny cash, fiona apple

You're still young, that's your thought / There's so much you have to know ... And I know that it's not easy / To be calm when you've found / Something going on / But take your time, think a lot / Why think of everything you've got? / For you will still be here tomorrow / But your dreams may not ... It's always been the same / The same old story / From the moment I could talk / I was ordered to listen / There's a way and I know that I have to go away

tyfuiopojihygufty i love this song when thinking of mike. he was so young! he had dreams and ambitions and heart and and. i know mikes dad is central to his storyline but i am 150 pages into this book i have barely met him yet i want to know howww

mitski for mikey <3

working for the knife ~ mitski

I always knew the world moves on / I just didn't know it would go without me / I start the day high and it ends so low / 'Cause I'm working for the knife ... I used to think I'd be done by 20 / Now at 29, the road ahead appears the same / Though maybe at 30 I'll see a way to change / That I'm living for the knife / I always thought the choice was mine / And I was right, but I just chose wrong / I start the day lying and end with the truth / That I'm dying for the knife

not exactly the 9-5 metaphor that the title suggests but more a contrast between what mike thought his adult life would be versus what it turned out to be. i love the i chose wrong line in this context

brand new city ~ mitski

I think my fate is losing its patience / I think the ground is pulling me down / I think my life is losing momentum / I think my ways are wearing me down ... I should move to a brand-new city / And teach myself how to die / Honey, what'd you take? What'd you take? / Honey, look at me / Tell me what you took? What'd you take?

i feel like im running this mike alone twenty-seven years thing dry. but this song. he should move to florida. not teach himself how to die tho

nobody ~ mitski

My God, I'm so lonely / So I open the window / To hear sounds of people ... Guess I'm a coward / I just want to feel alright / And I know no one will save me / I just need someone to kiss ... Nobody, nobody, nobody ... I've been big and small / And big and small / And big and small again

this fits too well. mike mike mike the guess im a coward lineeee

coffee ~ beabadoobee

Don't stay awake for too long / Don't go to bed / I'll make a cup of coffee for your head / I'll get you up and going out of bed / And I promise that one day I'll feel fine / And I promise that one day I'll feel alright ... Don't know how long I'll stay for / It's okay I'll knock on your door / Won't you come down and get me? / I like it when you hold me / Tight

this was going to be an honorable mention but i wanted to put a mike appreciation song. i heart him and his feel-good-ness

honorable mention (only one i used my other one) : sugar water~flower face (this does not fit it should not fit but it does it doesnt but it reminds me of him for no reason at all)

bill:

r.i.p. to my youth ~ the neighborhood

R.I.P. to my youth / And you can call this the funeral ... Might go to Hell and there ain't no stopping / Might be a sinner and I might be a saint / I'd like to be proud, but somehow I'm ashamed ... I'm using white lighters to see what's in front of me ... When I can't breathe, I won't ask you to stop / When I can't breathe, don't call for a cop / I was naive and hopeful and lost / Now I'm aware and driving my thoughts, oh

this is my bill song. this is the song that reminds me of him more than anything else. after georgie he was revenge-driven and unstoppable and he had no idea what he was doing. he blamed himself even though everything was so much bigger than him. this is his song

lucky ones ~ lana del rey

Let's get out of this town, baby we're on fire / Everyone around here seems to be going down, down, down / If you stick with me, I can take you higher, and higher / It feels like all of our friends are lost / Nobody's found, found, found ... Finally, you and me are the lucky ones, this time ... You know we'll never leave if we don't get out now, now, now

this is a losers club song but its def from bills pov if just for the i can take you higher line. but it is from his perspective i cant explain it they arent the lucky ones but they are

couple alex g songs

let it go ~ alex g

It's a really big car / It's a really big part / Of a really big heart / Are you really there? ... I'm sure sorry about your son / I heard he was a lot of fun / And I'm sorry 'bout the way / That he ran away / Are you really there ? ... It's a really great place / Way up here in outer space / You know it's all just a race / You can let it go

replace son with brother. bill. the repetition of are you really there and then after the last verse you can let it go are so meaningful. this is the losers to bill

16 mirrors ~ alex g

Let's get all the years where I was her friend (let's get all the mirrors in the bottom of the well) / I thought I lost my heartbeat (this is a piece of cake, working with my hands) / This one is a page where I used too many colors (16 mirrors at the bottom of the well) / Roll it in a mirror all my work will be discovered (this is a piece of cake, working with my hands)

i will not pretend to understand this song that i love so much. the lyrics are overlapping and difficult to fully make out but something in me is saying its bill. the colors bit. the mirrors have to have something to do w self

a pearl ~ mitski

You're growing tired of me / You love me so hard and I still can't sleep / You're growing tired of me / And all the things I don't talk about / Sorry, I don't want your touch / It's not that I don't want to / Sorry, I can't take your touch / It's just that I fell in love with a war / Nobody told me it ended / And it left a pearl in my head / And I roll it around every night / Just to watch it glow / Every night, baby, that's where I go ... There's a hole that you fill

bill was so obsessed with revenge with georgie that it kind of overtook everything else. the losers were the only thing that kept him from going completely off the deep end

emily i'm sorry ~ boygenius

She's asleep in the back seat / Looking peaceful enough to me / But she's waking inside a dream / Of screeching tires and fires ... When I pointed out where the North Star is / She called me a fucking liar / Emily, I'm sorry, I just (Emily, I) / Make it up as I go along ... Headed straight for the concrete / In a nightmare, screaming / And now I'm wide awake, spiraling / And you don't wanna talk ... You know how I get when I'm wrong (you know how I get) / And I can feel myself becoming (I can feel it) / Somebody I'm not, I'm not, so ... (I'm) I'm 27 and I don't know who I am (don't know who I am) / But I know what I want

i picture this as bill to stan after the first face off w it. stans upset and bill has no idea what hes doing but he knows he cares for stan and its a weird type of unflinching trust that stan has in bill that he is upset at bill about because he knows that it will get them hurt. this is like a hc at this point but i feel like this happened in some form

matilda ~ harry styles

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's no big deal" / And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels / Nothing about the way you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now ... You can let it go / You can throw a party full of everyone you know / And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love / You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up ... Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright / But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside / You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days ... You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

the way bills parent treated him after georgie is so terrible ughhhhhh this is the losers to bill. the last line the last line

honorable mentions : the greatest~ldr (the greatest loss is the loss of the losers adventures together and its just from bills pov for no reason i can elaborate on), remember~alex g (just the end with the please dont help me bit), vampire banquet~fox academy (yes it was on eddies list yes bill also feel claustrophobic in his ghost house yes they coincide), savior complex~phoebe bridgers (bill and his savior complex)

all of them:

im giving explanations when necessary but this has gotten so v long too long and most of these are pretty easy to figure out

listing ones that need nothing more from me than to list them : fire drill~melanie, new romantics~taylor swift, i know the end~phoebe bridgers(!!!!!!!!!!), new flesh~current joys, kids~current joys, be nice to me~the front bottoms, christmas kids~roar (if it wasnt about an abusive relationship. someone already mentioned this song, also), first love/late spring~mitski (the losers to bill), treehouse~alex g&emily yacina, two slow dancers~mitski (already mentioned by someone else too, this could be any of them), sippy cup~melanie

& almost every song from the record by boygenius because boygenius is so platonic love love love <3333 : true blue, cool about it, revolution 0, leonard cohen, satanist, we're in love, anti-curse

sun bleached flies ~ ethel cain

this song had parts that apply so painfully to a loser or multiple losers and parts that dont apply to anyone so im separating it by lyric

Sun-bleached flies sitting in the windowsill / Waiting for the day they escape (all)

"God loves you, but not enough to save you" / So, babygirl, good luck taking care of yourself (stan and bill)

If they strike once, then you just hit 'em twice as hard / But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me / Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far (bev and bill)

We all know how it goes / The more it hurts, the less it shows / But I still feel like they all know / And that's why I could never go back home (richie)

And I spend my life / Watching it go by from the sidelines / And God, I've tried / But I think it's about time I put up a fight (eddie, could be any of them but so eddie)

But I always knew that in the end, no one was coming to save me / So I just prayed, and I keep praying and praying and praying if it's meant to be then it will be (mike and a little bev and maybe even a little ben)

And I forgave it all as it comes back to me (ben)

I can't let go when something's broken / It's all I know and it's all I want now (bill)

bonus ok so machine girl has this album wlfgrl that samples from my fav movie ever ginger snaps which is about werewolf metaphors cough richie tozier....its mostly rave-ish instrumental butttttt ginger claps and out by 16, dead on the scene could def fit on to a losers club playlist, and potentially excruciating deth

calling the losers’ club/it fandom!

i’m currently writing an ethnography on dying internet spaces, and want to partake in the ritual that is making a music playlist!

so, leave in tags a song that reminds you of one of the losers, and if you want to can tell us which loser it is (some songs might be obvious lol) and for funzies, tell us which version of that loser is reminds you of (book, miniseries, 2017/19, adult or child, etc.)

and if you have a special reason it reminds you of them you can say it or if it’s just vibes alone that’s fair too! i’ll start us off:

- eddie my love by the chordettes - eddie as a kid, all versions (i imagine sonia sang this to him and he hates it)

- eddie baby by felix hagan & the family - adult 2019!richie would sing this to eddie teasingly

please boost this!

#i am so sorry this got out of hand #v long post #i swear i didnt start this in depth #this was sm more than u asked for i just love music and them #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #ummmmm take this if u want oops

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happy74827 · 1 year ago

Note

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

Text

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it.

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it.

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned.

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design.

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy.

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job.

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family.

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead.

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents.

How his money went into a bank account they had access to.

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line.

And boy, had he been acting out of line.

Getting into fights.

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills.

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.)

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track.

His own plans be damned.

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

“We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot.

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen.

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas.

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!”

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him.

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go.

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong.

xXx

Mike hadn’t cared.

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months.

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.)

Max was the surprising emotional standout.

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them.

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him.

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage.

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh.

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again.

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.)

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.”

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy.

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?”

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval.

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max.

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.

xXx

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom.

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble.

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter.

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago.

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck.

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles.

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!”

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.”

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large.

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road.

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone.

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it.

Now he just stared tiredly at her back.

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don��t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case.

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second.

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it.

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort.

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.”

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone.

It was just---Nancy did know.

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life.

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year.

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that.

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down.

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.)

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.”

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to.

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin.

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now.

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm.

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough.

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…”

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them.

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt.

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car.

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit.

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things.

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?”

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice.

A third time for good measure.

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.”

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really.

Not anymore.

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused.

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in.

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy.

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’

He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly.

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.”

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet.

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise.

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut.

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point.

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand.

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe.

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left.

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin.

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed.

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking.

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him.

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal.

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door.

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open.

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to.

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward.

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents?

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes.

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing .

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there.

xXx

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead.

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that.

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it.

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough.

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone.

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him.

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in.

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away.

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.)

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt.

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan.

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can.

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times.

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out.

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.”

Then; “It gets worse.”

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans.

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl.

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid,

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.”

Steve stayed silent.

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones.

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.”

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut.

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now.

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--”

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer.

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.”

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry.

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him.

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.”

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done.

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie.

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.”

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news.

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.”

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…”

He’d put his wife first. His family, first.

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one.

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess.

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored.

They’d warned him.

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic.

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was.

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.”

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle.

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary.

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind.

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come.

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie.

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger?

Steve would bow to their whims.

Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it.

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand.

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work.

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish.

Steve would try anyway.

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck.

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.”

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine.

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?”

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one.

Not when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it.

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was.

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him.

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins.

No matter how long the engagement.

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him.

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think.

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel.

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others.

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin.

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.)

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there.

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question.

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway.

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart.

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce.

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest.

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse.

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead.

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly.

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve.

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too.

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!”

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so.

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!”

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either.

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.”

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying.

Speaking of;

“When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been.

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home.

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice.

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie!#I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

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love-toxin · 1 year ago

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bonus night - mike schmidt

plot: jk it's just por-//SHOT

(cws: fem!reader, FNAF movie spoilers!!!, rough sex, riding, begging, a teeny tiny taste of dom mike, tit sucking, bruising, protected sex w/ a twist, post-fnaf canon, established relationship)

wc: 2k

There's absolutely no question that it's been a long fucking day. One of many, in fact, both behind him and yet to come.

Aside from his sleep schedule still being tremendously fucked from that five night ordeal, Mike's also had the stress of landing a new job and keeping it this time. He's lucky–god, he's lucky that an old friend of his just happened to have a connection–but that just puts more pressure on his ability to keep a level head and not lose this one. Plus, with his meds cut out as well as a whole host of new traumas to keep him up at night it's almost more stressful than fighting for his own life. With today being the end of orientation and the first real shift on the job, it's finally sinking in that a new chapter of life has started but his problems are still an uphill battle.

Bills, backpay, rent, Abby's therapy, pacifying their aunt who was quite aghast at waking up disheveled on their living room floor…it's been a process to say the least. His one saving grace has been you. You. His beautiful, gentle angel, with a voice like sugar and honey and skin as soft as velvet, warm like a shallow pool on a summer's day that he'd want to float in for hours. You're so precious he can't think of a single thing he's done in life that tops being your lover, or even comes close.

Well…maybe there's one thing.

“Mike,” The squeaking of the bed beneath you just barely drowns out the high, sweet whimper that your voice has melted into. “Please baby, slow down-”

A squeaky “ah!” flies from your mouth regardless of that insistent plea, your lover's hips like stone pistons as he bucks up and topples you over to land back against his chest. He loves you there; the feeling of your tits squished against his chest as he holds your ass in an iron grip. Thumbs dig into each cheek, palms splayed out to keep you spread but still in your place–stretched enough to take him but tight enough not to let him slip out. Not even now, an hour after he carried you through the door over his shoulder, when his spit and cum and sweat have coalesced into a damp sheen spilling over his lap. Fuck the mess. He'll clean it up later, if he doesn't just throw his whole bundle of sheets into the wash to scrub away the evidence.

Each thump, thump, thump of your body thrown down rings more in your ears than his, but both of you feel it equally. Your womb kissed with hard, stinging passion on every thrust, and Mike's stomach twisting and flexing as his cockhead beats that spot raw, instincts begging him to drain all he has left inside. He's got lots of pent-up energy to spare, and on the one night that his sister's gone to a sleepover you can bet he took the chance to let some of it out. He'd barely had time to grab a condom–as eager as he was, it pales in comparison to the heat between your thighs when you see him get all riled up. If he'd let you put it on for him, you'd probably have it off in a second. Now he's just at the mercy of your needy and downright addictive pussy.

“Fuck!” Your mewls shift into a spitting, hissing curse when he bites down on one of those beautiful breasts of yours. Unlike what a weaker man would do, Mike isn't averse to leaving bruises–what else could be expected? He tries to be a gentleman in public and you always tell him he is, but the desire to put hands all over those pretty tits and mark his claim on them is second nature now. And no matter how much you'll complain about them being sore afterwards, you'll still push them in his face with that devilish look that's daring him to do it all over again.

Besides, he can't resist those things swinging right in front of him. And you'll forget the sting so quickly, his tongue will make short work of those shallow wounds you feel as he latches his lips and starts to suck. Greedily.

“Mike!”

Your hands in his hair won't stop him. But they don't really want to–as always you love to tug but you never push him back, you don't try to get any more space between you because what's already there is still not close enough.

God your whiny voice is so cute. He couldn't feel more lucky to have picked you up when he did. How would he know that the girl he helped out once for an ice cream would end up being his girlfriend? He just thought you were cute, and he felt bad seeing your face fall as you counted out your change in line, so he hadn't thought twice about the dollar he put down on the counter in your stead. Such an adorable little ditz, and now he's got you riding his lap and kissing him awake nearly every morning. If he wanted to catch a break, this is it.

“M-Mike, m'gonna cum,” Your whimpers dig into his ear and tug at the strings of his heart, his head already turned to soothe you with a low, soft shush brushed by your cheek. There there. With a stroke of your hair, you're melting again.

“Mhm,” He hums again, his warmth a lull following the furious heat that's been sparked by the friction of his hips pumping at a violent pace. “Shh, sh sh. We’ll go slow, I promise.” His murmuring muddies your head, his fingers descending quickly towards their destination. Once they reach it at the crest of your soft, pudgy mound that's been brutalized by his cock, he's glad to see you finally let that tension go as you slump forward into his chest. You just need to cling to him for awhile, and he certainly won't be complaining.

The smell of your sweat, your heat, your sleek, soft tongue wetting the bruises your teeth leave in his throat, all that whining and groaning and high, girlish squealing as your hips hump his lap–these and more are all reasons he has to absolutely worship you. Your starry-eyed gaze as you look upon him in ecstasy etches itself into his very soul. He won't ever forget this…he won't ever forget you. Not the warmth of you both being cheek-to-cheek, your hand coaxing out his end as it trails reverently from his jaw down his heaving chest.

“Pleeeeease,” You whisper, so achingly sweet he could cry as easily as cum. “Please, baby?”

Please. Such a pretty word. Prettier from your mouth most of all, so pretty it hurts–nearly stings as he digs his nails in and leaves marks on each cheek, though it will moreso for you when you wince at sitting down at your desk tomorrow morning. You're shaking, trembling more like, and even if he made you wait for it you wouldn't be able to obey. The spasms wracking through you can't be controlled, nor can the grind of your hips down as you let those strong hands drag you all the way to the base. So far that it causes a twinge in your expression as the orgasm passes, your ecstasy blotting out the stretch that you're gonna feel all the way up to your hips in the morning.

But he's got to get in deep, has to make it ache, so he's got a grip so firm it's trembling up his arms and you're shaking even harder on top of him as he digs in and lets loose. There's no question he's hit your womb, it's more curious to whether he's broken through it or not…by the way you bite down on his shoulder and bear the pressure, though, he must be nearly there. Nearly squeezing through that tight, tight wall so he's draining his seed right where it's meant to be. And you paw at him all the while, lower lip quivering, tears threatening to spill, yet you won't let up on rubbing yourself back on his thighs–it just isn't enough until you've taken all he has to give, and even then he can spot that gleam in your eyes that begs for even more. The fact that the condom's split isn't even in his mind, it's floated so far away he won't think of it until it's too late to stop.

Yet all that heat hits the same end after the climax. The friction subsides, the breathing slows, and the two of you are left in content silence as you quietly come back to your senses. There's something even more intimate about losing oneself as a collective; being so hedonistic in pursuing an indulgence, yet facing the fear of baring your own heart to one you love in the process, and reaching an even more satisfying end as it all comes to a close. It's glorious. He wouldn't trade it for anything. He wouldn't trade sex for his own life now that he's had it with you. But, again, he's still coming down from the high–he’ll most certainly feel the embarrassment of losing himself so indulgently as the cool air from the AC starts setting in.

“Was that good, baby?” Your tone just drips with deliciously sinful innocence, god. You've got such a proud expression on your face as he finds the words through his post-coital haze, hands inching back down your ass to grab handfuls of it yet again. Once he's got a grip he tugs, and draws you closer to meet you in a kiss–and as wet as it still is from the exercise, the way you lean into it and giggle is just enough to send his heart burning into passionate flames yet again.

“Very. Always is.” Panting, sweaty, he'd have no trouble convincing the neighbors he was just having it out on a treadmill for the last hour. If he could afford one.

“The best you've ever had?”

“Best. Best and only. Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” You make a show of thinking up your answer only to tap him on the nose as you lean forward over him. “...No. I like this.”

Mike claps you on the ass suddenly, the smack echoing loudly in his modest little bedroom and eliciting a squeal from you that's just as punctual. Your squirming only draws a heat up inside him again though, and he knows better than anyone that that's exactly what you want. You'd be happy if he never got out of bed again, and if he spent all day with his cock nestled nice and warm inside you.

“Up. I gotta piss. Don't make me count.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Huffy and puffy as always, you soon relent and slip off with a bit of manoeuvring to flop into bed beside him. “Can I at least hold it?” Rather than say something equally as shameful, he just pushes his pillow over your face with reddened cheeks and ducks with laughter as you launch it back at him, already up and on his way to the bathroom to wash off–and to soon find the evidence of that broken contraception that's definitely gonna plant a seed of worry in him when he realizes. Or…maybe not. God knows how many jokes you've made about wasting his cumshots in your mouth, and how often you've jumped him with no inkling of whether he's got a rubber in reach or not.

Maybe this is just another chapter of life, one more stage he's been readying himself for unconsciously. Whatever it comes with, he's gonna be beside you either way–so in a sense, he's more prepared than he's ever been to face what lies ahead.

#mutuals if u look at me im legally required to gag u #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #spicy writing #fnaf movie #fnaf mike #ellie writes #2k

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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Lies, damned lies, and Uber

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 10-11), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!

Uber lies about everything, especially money. Oh, and labour. Especially labour. And geometry. Especially geometry! But especially especially money. They constantly lie about money.

Uber are virtuosos of mendacity, but in Toronto, the company has attained a heretofore unseen hat-trick: they told a single lie that is dramatically, materially untruthful about money, labour and geometry! It's an achievement for the ages.

Here's how they did it.

For several decades, Toronto has been clobbered by the misrule of a series of far-right, clownish mayors. This was the result of former Ontario Premier Mike Harris's great gerrymander of 1998, when the city of Toronto was amalgamated with its car-dependent suburbs. This set the tone for the next quarter-century, as these outlying regions – utterly dependent on Toronto for core economic activity and massive subsidies to pay the unsustainable utility and infrastructure bills for sprawling neighborhoods of single-family homes – proceeded to gut the city they relied on.

These "conservative" mayors – the philanderer, the crackhead, the sexual predator – turned the city into a corporate playground, swapping public housing and rent controls for out-of-control real-estate speculation and trading out some of the world's best transit for total car-dependency. As part of that decay, the city rolled out the red carpet for Uber, allowing the company to put as many unlicensed taxis as they wanted on the city's streets.

Now, it's hard to overstate the dire traffic situation in Toronto. Years of neglect and underinvestment in both the roads and the transit system have left both in a state of near collapse and it's not uncommon for multiple, consecutive main arteries to shut down without notice for weeks, months, or, in a few cases, years. The proliferation of Ubers on the road – driven by desperate people trying to survive the city's cost-of-living catastrophe – has only exacerbated this problem.

Uber, of course, would dispute this. The company insists – despite all common sense and peer-reviewed research – that adding more cars to the streets alleviates traffic. This is easily disproved: there just isn't any way to swap buses, streetcars, and subways for cars. The road space needed for all those single-occupancy cars pushes everything further apart, which means we need more cars, which means more roads, which means more distance between things, and so on.

It is an undeniable fact that geometry hates cars. But geometry loathes Uber. Because Ubers have all the problems of single-occupancy vehicles, and then they have the separate problem that they just end up circling idly around the city's streets, waiting for a rider. The more Ubers there are on the road, the longer each car ends up waiting for a passenger:

https://www.sfgate.com/technology/article/Uber-Lyft-San-Francisco-pros-cons-ride-hailing-13841277.php

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After years of bumbling-to-sinister municipal rule, Toronto finally reclaimed its political power and voted in a new mayor, Olivia Chow, a progressive of long tenure and great standing (I used to ring doorbells for her when she was campaigning for her city council seat). Mayor Chow announced that she was going to reclaim the city's prerogative to limit the number of Ubers on the road, ending the period of Uber's "self-regulation."

Uber, naturally, lost its shit. The company claims to be more than a (geometrically impossible) provider of convenient transportation for Torontonians, but also a provider of good jobs for working people. And to prove it, the company has promised to pay its drivers "120% of minimum wage." As I write for Ricochet, that's a whopper, even by Uber's standards:

https://ricochet.media/en/4039/uber-is-lying-again-the-company-has-no-intention-of-paying-drivers-a-living-wage

Here's the thing: Uber is only proposing to pay 120% of the minimum wage while drivers have a passenger in the vehicle. And with the number of vehicles Uber wants on the road, most drivers will be earning nothing most of the time. Factor in that unpaid time, as well as expenses for vehicles, and the average Toronto Uber driver stands to make $2.50 per hour (Canadian):

https://ridefair.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Legislated-Poverty.pdf

Now, Uber's told a lot of lies over the years. Right from the start, the company implicitly lied about what it cost to provide an Uber. For its first 12 years, Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar it brought in, lighting tens of billions in investment capital provided by the Saudi royals on fire in an effort to bankrupt rival transportation firms and disinvestment in municipal transit.

Uber then lied to retail investors about the business-case for buying its stock so that the House of Saud and other early investors could unload their stock. Uber claimed that they were on the verge of producing a self-driving car that would allow them to get rid of drivers, zero out their wage bill, and finally turn a profit. The company spent $2.5b on this, making it the most expensive Big Store in the history of cons:

https://www.theinformation.com/articles/infighting-busywork-missed-warnings-how-uber-wasted-2-5-billion-on-self-driving-cars

After years, Uber produced a "self-driving car" that could travel one half of one American mile before experiencing a potentially lethal collision. Uber quietly paid another company $400m to take this disaster off its hands:

https://www.economist.com/business/2020/12/10/why-is-uber-selling-its-autonomous-vehicle-division

The self-driving car lie was tied up in another lie – that somehow, automation could triumph over geometry. Robocabs, we were told, would travel in formations so tight that they would finally end the Red Queen's Race of more cars – more roads – more distance – more cars. That lie wormed its way into the company's IPO prospectus, which promised retail investors that profitability lay in replacing every journey – by car, cab, bike, bus, tram or train – with an Uber ride:

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUSKCN1RN2SK/

The company has been bleeding out money ever since – though you wouldn't know it by looking at its investor disclosures. Every quarter, Uber trumpets that it has finally become profitable, and every quarter, Hubert Horan dissects its balance sheets to find the accounting trick the company thought of this time. There was one quarter where Uber declared profitability by marking up the value of stock it held in Uber-like companies in other countries.

How did it get this stock? Well, Uber tried to run a business in those countries and it was such a total disaster that they had to flee the country, selling their business to a failing domestic competitor in exchange for stock in its collapsing business. Naturally, there's no market for this stock, which, in Uber-land, means you can assign any value you want to it. So that one quarter, Uber just asserted that the stock had shot up in value and voila, profit!

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-twenty-nine-despite-massive-price-increases-uber-losses-top-31-billion.html

But all of those lies are as nothing to the whopper that Uber is trying to sell to Torontonians by blanketing the city in ads: the lie that by paying drivers $2.50/hour to fill the streets with more single-occupancy cars, they will turn a profit, reduce the city's traffic, and provide good jobs. Uber says it can vanquish geometry, economics and working poverty with the awesome power of narrative.

In other words, it's taking Toronto for a bunch of suckers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

Image: Rob Sinclair (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_skyline_of_Toronto_May_2009.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #uber #hubert horan #fraud #toronto #geometry hates cars #urbanism #ontpoli #olivia chow #self-regulation #transport #urban planning #taxis #transit #urban theory #labor #algorithmic wage discrimination #veena dubal

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janiehellion · 2 months ago

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Troublemaker

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon knew better than to challenge you, yet the thrill of breaking the rules was too tempting to resist. He let you play your game—by his own rules—because certain forbidden lessons in trouble were just meant to be learned.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: TEACHER!DARYL DIXON X FEM!STUDENT READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / BLOWJOB / CUNNILINGUS / TEASING / ROUGH SEX / TABOO

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.350

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @mikes-babygirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: A quick heads-up—I changed the setting from a typical school to college, and made Daryl a younger substitute professor, instead of a regular and much older teacher on purpose. I just wanted the story to feel more comfortable and kinda more mature overall. Even though it’s fiction, I don't want to cross certain lines. But I do hope that I've still done the request justice, after all...

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You walked into the room, already preparing yourself for another boring day at college. It wasn’t that you hated college exactly—it was just more of the same, day after day. You threw your bag next to your desk and sat down in your seat, scrolling through your phone while the other college students started to get ready for class.

But then you looked over to the door.

Of all people to be teaching today—it was him. Mr. Dixon. Just your luck. You’d always had a problem with this guy. Sure, he was good-looking—annoyingly good-looking, actually—but that just made it worse. Someone that hot shouldn’t have the right to be such a pain in the ass. And the constant lecturing like he knew everything? He had that whole "I’m smarter than you!" attitude, and it drove you crazy.

He hadn’t done anything yet, but just the sight of him was enough to piss you off.

And as soon as he started the lesson, talking and gesturing around, you immediately zoned out.

It just didn’t matter.

You were more focused on how he stood there, acting like he had everything under control and looking all arrogant. You hated that. And there was no way you were just going to sit through this class quietly.

So you raised your hand slowly.

"Yeah?" Mr. Dixon turned to you, raising an eyebrow in that way that made you want to punch his face.

You shrugged, leaning back casually. "Just wondering... what’s the point of all this? I mean, history? It’s not like we need this for our major. This has nothing to do with what we're actually studying."

He looked irritated but kept his cool. Of course he did. "It’s 'bout understandin' why the world works the way it does—no matter what field you’re in."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right. Like learning this bullshit is gonna pay my bills."

A few students laughed, but Mr. Dixon's expression didn’t change. "The point of learning history is to understand how people like ya keep makin' the same mistakes—and why they're still broke."

"Sounds like a waste of time," you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He paused, staring at you for a moment longer than necessary, so you leaned forward, looking into his eyes as if daring him to say something else. He wouldn’t. He knew better.

Daryl sighed loudly and continued with the lesson, but you weren’t done. Throughout the class, you kept at it—making comments or sighing dramatically in annoyance every time he explained something.

At one point, you put your feet up on the desk, pushing your chair back lazily. "Seriously, Dixon, can we speed this up? Some of us have better things to do."

His eyes looked toward your legs, then back to your face, but he didn’t say anything. He was trying hard to keep his cool.

With a yawn, you stretched your arms over your head, and as time went on, you decided to continue.

"So, Dixon," you said loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Ever thought about getting a real job instead of just playing teacher?"

This time, he paused. Really paused.

You knew you’d provoke him eventually, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to react.

But instead, he just gave you a small, almost unnoticeable smirk. "Careful, ya might just find out I’m more qualified than ya think."

Your heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

In one way or another, you spent the rest of class barely paying attention, since something about that smirk he gave you before had pissed you off more than usual.

As soon as the bell for the break rang, you waited near the classroom door, pretending to chat with a few friends until he left the room as well. Once the hallway was empty and everyone was out of sight, you slipped back in.

First, you walked up to his desk, staring at the pile of papers he's left there. It was all so organized, so... proper. You hated it. With one quick move, you knocked the papers to the floor, scattering them all over the place.

Your eyes then landed on his bag on the chair behind the front desk. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it and looked through it. There were a few personal items still inside—a notebook, some other papers, and a lighter.

"A smoker, huh?"

You then looked through the notebook. There were random notes, lesson plans, and other things you didn’t even care about, but something about it being his made you want to ruin it. Without hesitating, you ripped out the pages, tearing them apart.

"Not enough..."

You grabbed the lighter, turning it on, before you held it to some of the torn-out pages, watching it burn for a few more seconds before dropping it onto the pile of papers on the floor, while making sure the windows were open to avoid triggering the smoke alarm.

Anything to piss him off.

And just as you were about to leave, your eyes landed on his coffee mug, which he's left behind. That stupid mug he always carried around. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it, throwing it against the wall, and before anyone could catch you, you slipped back out of the room, blending in with the crowd of other college students outside, acting like nothing had happened.

Soon, the break was almost over, but the classroom was still empty. Mr. Dixon walked in first, and the second he saw the mess, his eyes widened—papers torn and burned, the broken coffee mug on the floor... He didn’t say anything; he just stood there, taking it all in.

"Ugh… Really?" He mumbled to himself. "Yer testing me, huh? Alright then."

He walked around the room slowly, closing the open windows and getting rid of the chaos you'd left behind.

"Ya want my attention?" He said quietly, almost like he was talking to you even though you weren’t there. "Ya sure as hell got it."

He should’ve been pissed, but there was something that made him more curious than angry.

Now, he quickly straightened up as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He watched the door, waiting for you to walk back in, knowing full well what you’d done.

The college students soon began walking back into the room, and you were one of the last to come in, casually late, throwing yourself into your chair while your eyes looked to Mr. Dixon, standing at the front, but... with no hint of anger.

His eyes soon met yours for a second—just long enough to make your heart race—but then he looked away again.

"Alright," he began, "we’re gonna continue with something different now."

He walked to the front of his desk, grabbing a stack of books he'd brought with him to the classroom—Divided Loyalties. He held one up, flipping through the pages and then passing them out. As you grabbed your copy, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. American Revolution? Really?

"This play's 'bout a family torn apart by their opposing views," he explained, walking slowly in front of the board. "Patriots, loyalists, people choosing sides. The family in this play has to decide where their loyalty lies—what side of history they wanna be on. Some of 'em follow, others... they go with what’s expected. Either way, their choices split 'em apart."

He didn’t say it outright, but you felt it. He picked this damn play on purpose.

You tapped your fingers on your copy of the book, half-listening to him, half-lost in your thoughts. It was like he was waiting for you to make a move. But what move exactly?

"The point of this," he said, moving around again, "is that sometimes we get pulled in two directions. Loyalties get tested. But what matters is whether or not ya own yer choices."

That last line felt like it was meant just for you. There it was again—that feeling. Unspoken, electric. Like you both knew exactly what was happening between the two of you, but neither of you wanted to admit it.

He stepped away, continuing with his explanation about the play.

"Ya know," he continued, leaning back against his desk, arms crossed again. "A lotta people thought on either side they were just troublemakers. Pissin' off each other, causin' problems... all 'cause they couldn’t keep their mouths shut." His eyes looked to yours again, almost like a challenge.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the book, but his voice, his presence—it was all too distracting somehow. He knew exactly what he was doing. And it was working.

One of the students sitting a couple of rows over raised their hand. "Mr. Dixon, did you ever have to deal with that? Like, divided loyalties? You seem like you know what that feels like."

He paused, smirking a bit, but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he was looking almost amused. "What makes ya say that?"

The student shrugged. "I dunno, just the way you talk about it. It’s like you’ve been through some stuff and things yourself."

"Let’s just say I’ve seen my share of... divided loyalties." He glanced at the board. "But that ain't the point of the lesson."

Another student chimed in. "What did you do before teaching, anyway? You weren’t always here. You don’t seem like... a regular teacher."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "That’s because I’m not. Jus' a substitute, fillin' in until I finish my graduate program. I’m workin' toward my Master’s in Education. Right now, I'm here until the regular prof returns. Ya don’t have to worry; I ain't stickin' 'round forever."

Your curiosity was growing, though you’d never admit it. He didn’t fit the type of a normal professor at all, and now it was obvious why. He wasn’t one. Well… Not really.

"Now, back to the lesson," he continued. "Troublemakers…" He said the word slowly, like he was testing it out. "Sometimes, trouble’s what shakes things up. Forces people to finally pay attention."

Your heart was racing faster and faster. He was toying with you, and you knew it. He was playing a game, and you hated how much it was getting under your skin. But part of you... part of you liked it. The push, the pull, the challenge between the two of you. He wasn’t like the other teachers who'd have scolded you by now. No, he was letting you come at him, daring you to make your next move and to fuck up.

And you couldn’t help but play along.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms with a bored look on your face. "It's just another pointless play to rot our brains with bullshit that we don't even need for our future."

He gave you a quick glare, but he was still rather unimpressed with your attitude. "If ya think it’s pointless, maybe ya ain't puttin' enough effort into understanding it."

"Effort?" You snorted and smirked. "The only effort I see is you trying to make us suffer with bullshit no one even gives a fuck about."

He narrowed his eyes at you, but he was still in control. "Perhaps if ya paid more attention, ya’d understand why this bullshit is still relevant."

"Relevant? Don’t make me shit myself," you snapped back, now leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk.

The room was quiet, all eyes looking between you and Mr. Dixon, but no one else dared to say anything.

Daryl sighed, clearly fed up somewhere deep inside. "That’s quite a way to talk to a teacher."

"Yeah? But you aren't a real teacher, nor will you ever become a professor, so what are you going to do about it?" You shot back. "Get me suspended? From college? As if any prof would even do that! Or how about you give me detention? Oh wait, you’re already doing that with your shitty lessons."

He stepped closer to you, smirking as well. "Watch ya damn mouth an' shut it."

"Or what?" You taunted. "Are you going to make me?"

His eyes were burning into yours, and for a moment, it felt like there was something else there in them—something else than simple irritation and annoyance.

"Is that what ya want?" He asked, putting his hands into his pockets. "For me to give ya what yer askin' for?"

"Oh, please! Like that’s going to make any difference!" You laughed back at him, waving one hand in dismissal.

"Yer testing my patience," he answered, his voice still calm. "And yer 'bout to find out how far I’m willin' to go to get ya suspended, if that's what ya really want. Or maybe expelled. Even if this is college."

The room was dead silent, the other students watching with wide eyes and whispering to each other. But you didn’t care.

"Expelled, huh? Those are some serious words for someone who’s barely even qualified to be teaching," you smiled.

Daryl didn't respond immediately; he just stared at you with that still calm expression. Like he was holding back.

Finally, he took a step back. "Ya think this is a joke?"

You shrugged, yawning and smirking at him. "Well, I’m not exactly learning anything here, so yeah, it really is kinda funny."

But the smirk on your face faded the second he slammed his hands down loudly on your desk, making you jump.

"Enough!" He said, his voice only a growl.

You opened your mouth to snap back once more, but he cut you off before you could even speak.

"Detention," he continued. "After school. We’ll see how ya will act when there’s no one else 'round to laugh.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back, trying to seem unimpressed. "Fine. But I’m not scared of you, Dixon."

He walked back to the front desk, giving you one final look. "Ya will be."

The bell rang soon enough, and everyone else went to walk out of the room. You stood up slowly as well, watching Daryl write notes down on a paper at his desk like nothing had happened.

But that last glare? That look in his eyes? You couldn't think about anything else as the hours passed.

And now you had detention with him. Alone.

Detention had seemed more appealing than getting suspended or expelled, of course, especially from college by a substitute teacher who still didn't graduate himself yet, but it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for in one way or another. Mr. Dixon had made it clear you’d be staying after the lessons, and now here you were, sitting at the front of the room, waiting for him to show up.

The minutes ticked by until Mr. Dixon walked in, his face looking as neutral as ever.

"Well, well, well," he started as he stood near the door, closing it slowly. "I didn't think I'd actually be seein' ya here." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But here we are."

"Guess I just wanted to make it all a little more exciting for myself," you shot back.

He stepped closer, not invading your personal space but close enough. "Excitin', huh? Or just plain stupid?"

"Depends on who you ask," you replied, crossing your arms. "What’s next, more boring lectures? Another dumb play?"

"Maybe... or maybe I’ll find another way to keep your attention," he said, taking another step closer.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right. As if you could keep me interested. You don’t scare me, Dixon; I've said it before, and I'll always say it again. Why? Wanna try me? I dare you to try."

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, the move sending adrenaline straight through your body in an instant. "Careful what ya wish for."

His eyes moved down to your lips, and for a short moment, you thought he might actually kiss you. But as fast as that thought came into your mind, you quickly pushed it away again.

"Maybe ya wanna find out how far I’ll go to teach ya a lesson," he challenged, his breath smelling like cigarettes.

"Maybe I do," you replied. "Or maybe I don't."

He let go of your wrist and walked back to the front desk, but the distance between you still felt nonexistent.

"And I don't care," he answered, setting the book from all those hours before down on the desk. "Yer going to reread Divided Loyalties again. I want ya to pay close attention this time. Maybe ya will finally learn, or at least shut up."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. "Like learning how to deal with your bullshit?"

He ignored the comment. "Start readin'. I’ll be gradin' some papers in the meantime."

You shrugged, picking up the book. But as you looked through the pages, an idea started forming in your mind. If Mr. Dixon wanted you to take this seriously, you were going to make it interesting—by your own rules.

You looked over at him, already busy with his grading. Perfect. You began to read aloud, but not in the way he might have hoped, interpreting the text in your own way and playing around with the words.

"Forsooth, thou hast a long and sturdy lance," you read, your voice now louder on purpose. "I’d wager it could penetrate any barrier with ease."

His head moved up and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, choosing to let you continue.

You pressed on as you read. "Verily, thy bedchamber is most inviting. I am most eager to partake in its pleasures."

You leaned back in your chair, watching him closely as you continued. "Our loyalty lies not just in our words, but in the way we... entertain each other behind closed doors."

His eyes looked at you again, and you could see the struggle on his face to keep his calm. It was clear you were getting under his skin, and you loved it.

You let out a rather quiet laugh, closing the book and stretching yourself. "You know, Mr. Dixon, I think I’m starting to understand the ‘divided loyalties’ part. Sometimes, it’s hard to stay loyal to something when there are so many... distractions."

Daryl raised an eyebrow with a small yet almost unnoticable smirk. "Okay, enough," he said. "Let me tell ya somethin'. In this room, I'm in charge. Ya will do as I say as long as I am yer teacher."

"Fine," you answered him through clenched teeth, glaring at him. "But let me tell you something as well, Dixon. In this room, I'm not going to just sit here and do shit! And I want something in return. Deal?"

Daryl leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. "And what exactly would that be?" He asked, his blue eyes looking at you with a frown.

"I want..." Your voice trailed off as you tried to find the right words. "I want... you," you finally said, the words surprising even yourself.

Daryl just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "If ya wanna play that kinda game, then I'll play along. But only if ya agree to my terms."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart racing in your chest. This just got too real, even for your taste, but what were you expecting? You didn't know. But part of you wanted this as much as you tried to deny it. "Wait… What? What terms exactly? What…"

"First, this stays between us. No one can know about our... arrangement. Second, ya will do whatever I say, both in and outta this room. And third, ya will keep up with yer damn work from now on and calm down with yer shitty behavior."

You nodded slowly, feeling your pulse racing at the thought of what you're about to agree to. "Fine," you answered. "I accept your terms."

Daryl then moved towards you again. "Good," he said, reaching out to cup your chin with his hand. Then it happened. He leaned in closer once more. Your breathing stopped for a moment as his lips brushed against yours, teasing you with a hint of a kiss.

"Dixon," you breathed, half a protest and half a plea. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Shut up," he murmured against your lips before kissing them fully, his hands framing your face.

The kiss was intoxicating—all heat and urgency. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, feeling the world around you fade away while tasting nicotine on your tongue… and you wanted more.

"Yer gonna do everythin' I tell ya to do," he mumbled, his lips brushing lightly against your ear after he broke the kiss. "And if ya disobey me, there will be consequences. But I think ya know that by now, don't ya?"

You gasped as one of his hands moved away from your chin, along the side of your neck, before slipping beneath the collar of your shirt, grabbing it, and pulling you out of the chair toward the front desk.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling yourself already getting wetter with every passing second. "I know and I understand."

Daryl's grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you let out a small moan. "Good," he said, smirking a little. "Now, ya better be gettin' down on yer knees."

You hesitated for just a moment before slowly sinking down onto the floor of the room, watching as Daryl undid the button of his pants. "Take it out," he commanded.

You reached out with trembling hands, fumbling around as you pulled his thick, hard cock out.

"Now, put it in yer mouth," Daryl said. "And don't ya dare bite down on it."

You smirked and leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the head of Daryl's cock and sucking gently while looking up at him. He let out a groan, his fingers holding your head and playing with your hair as he began to guide you and move his hips.

"That's it," he murmured. "Jus' like that. Suck it harder. Show me how much ya wanna be good again."

You obeyed his command, applying more pressure with your lips as you worked your way further down his swelling shaft. His breathing got more uneven, and you could tell just how much he was enjoying this already.

"Yeah, jus' like that," he said breathlessly, his hips beginning to thrust forward a little harder. "Oh fuck, yer so good at this."

You felt yourself getting even more turned on by his words and reached down between your legs, sliding your fingers inside your pants and beneath your panties, stroking gently at your swollen, aching clit.

Daryl must've sensed the change in your behavior because he suddenly pulled away from you, his cock slipping out from between your lips. "That's enough for now."

He reached down, helping you to your feet before leading you over towards the desk at the front of the room. He bent you over it, your tits and stomach pressed against the surface.

"Now, get those pants off and spread yer legs for me," he said. "I wanna see how wet ya are."

You obeyed his command again, parting your legs as wide as they'd go after pulling down your pants and panties. Daryl let out a growl as he took in the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers sliding over your wet folds.

"Oh shit, jus' look at how fuckin' wet ya are," he mumbled. "Ya really wan' it, don't ya? Since when, huh?"

You let out a gasp as Daryl's fingers found your clit. "Who knows?" You moaned quietly. "Maybe I did want you to fuck me all along."

Daryl didn't respond right away; instead, he continued to tease you with his fingers. "Good t'know," he finally said. "First, I wanna taste ya. I wanna feel that sweet lil' pussy against my tongue. But don't ya worry. I promise it'll be worth the risk."

With that, Daryl got onto his knees, with his head between your legs, his tongue moving out to make contact with your swollen, aching clit from behind, licking it and sucking at your folds, his tongue moving slowly on purpose.

"Oh fuck, Dixon," you moaned quietly again, your legs starting to tremble a little. "Right there. Yes..."

"Fuck, ya look so sexy like this," Daryl said and kept licking and sucking before sliding two fingers deep inside to pump them in and out of you a few times. "Ya taste so fuckin' good," he continued. "Could eat ya out all day an' night. But I wanna feel ya cum all over my cock next. Hell, I love how yer pussy looks when 's all wet an' ready for me," he mumbled, sliding his fingers out of you again.

You gasped softly, your hips bucking back, trying to meet his hand and face once more. "Hell, just... I need more," you pleaded, your voice shaking while you tried not to tremble too hard.

"Jus' wanted to make sure that yer wet an' ready for me 'fore I give ya what ya want," he said, gripping and stroking his hard, leaking cock.

"Dixon," you begged with a whimper. "Just fuck me already, okay?"

Daryl smirked, clearly unable to resist your begging any longer. "Alright, sweetheart," he answered, positioning himself between your legs before slowly pushing his cock inside you from behind. "I'm gonna make ya feel so fuckin' good, girl."

You let out a gasp again as his cock pressed up against your dripping wet pussy, tormenting you with the tip for several long moments, then sliding the thick, hard shaft of it back and forth over your wet folds, before he filled you up completely, his thickness stretching your pussy walls deliciously. "Jus' take it. Take every single inch of my cock deep inside ya."

You obliged eagerly, pushing back and pulling him even deeper inside you with each passing thrust, trying not to groan out loud at the feeling of being stretched and stuffed so deeply.

"Oh fuck, ya feel so damn good," he said, his fingers digging into your hips as he started to pound away at your pussy with a little bit more force. "Shit, I could fuck ya all the damn time an' never get tired of it."

"Oh, fuck yes!" You groaned in response as Daryl continued to thrust in and out of you.

As he soon fucked you harder and deeper, you could feel your orgasm building up inside you, threatening you to make you scream out loud.

"I'm so fucking close already," you panted as you held onto the edges of the front desk for dear life. "Please... don't stop! Don't fucking stop!"

"Oh shit," you moaned and whimpered as he continued to fuck you. "Harder, please, harder."

And Daryl didn't disappoint you. He fucked you hard, his cock pounding in and out of your pussy in quick, rapid thrusts.

"Ya wanted this, didn't ya?" He growled out. "Ya wanted me to fuck ya like this."

You nodded eagerly. "Yeah, shit, I did… I do!"

"Ain't gonna stop until I've made ya cum all over my cock, sweetheart," he said, increasing the speed, which immediately brought you to the edge like you've never experienced before.

"I'm cumming! Oh fuck, I'm cumming!" You whimpered, your entire body tensing up, and just as you thought, your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb, your pussy clenching around him, gripping his cock as if not wanting to let go. But Daryl didn't stop, even after you've finished.

And just as you were coming down from your orgasm, he suddenly pulled out, his breathing ragged. "I’m 'bout to cum," he groaned, wanting to finish himself off, and started to stroke his cock, ready to let go, but then you acted on instinct. You couldn't just let him finish without you, not like this.

Quickly, you dropped to your knees and took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him hard just as he began to cum, brushing your teeth ever so lightly over the throbbing shaft. Daryl let out a deep moan, surprise and shock written all over his face as he found himself clearly unable to resist.

You sucked his cock hard, moving your tongue around the tip before taking him as deep as you could. His hands immediately found your hair, urging you on, and you responded by increasing the pressure of your lips. "Oh fuck, jus' like that," he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of your mouth.

"Jus' a lil' more," he urged, his voice trembling, but you wanted to draw it out. You picked up your pace, pulling back fast just to tease him before taking him deep into your mouth again. You could feel his cock throb and pulse against your tongue, and you knew he couldn't hold back any longer.

Finally, he lost it. "I can’t—oh fuck!" He tried to keep his groans quiet as he began to cum, his warm load filling your mouth as you swallowed down every drop, refusing to simply let him cum all over you like he'd wanted to.

Once he was finished, you pulled away, but not before licking his shaft from the base to the tip once more and looking up at him with a smirk.

"Shit, ya really are one hell of a distraction," he mumbled, catching his breath and slipping his cock back into his pants with trembling hands.

You stood up, pulling your clothes back on as you caught Daryl’s eye. He suddenly seemed different now—annoyed, maybe? But you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

Daryl cleared his throat, straightening up and sitting down on the desk with a serious look on his slightly red face, while also trying to adjust his still half-hard cock in his pants. "This was a one-time thing. Got it?"

"Sure, just a one-time thing, Mr. Dixon," you replied innocently, but you couldn’t resist adding, "I mean, it’s not like I’ll ever forget a one-time lesson like this while having something as ridiculous as detention... but I bet reading Divided Loyalties won't be a one-time thing, isn't that right?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Yer such a damn troublemaker." Daryl shot back, crossing his arms over his chest as if he could shield himself.

You sat down on the edge of the front desk as well, pushing your luck further. "Maybe I really am. How else could I have gotten you to break the rules?" You bit your lip, watching the way his jaw tightened.

"Ain't 'bout that. Ya really need to get yer shit together, or I’ll have to start disciplinin' ya for real," he warned, but the look in his eyes betrayed him, showing you he was still fighting with the thoughts about what you both just did.

You couldn’t help but laugh all over again, rolling your eyes playfully. "You disciplining me? That’d just make me want to misbehave more. Besides, who would ever believe you? The hot substitute who gives other collegians detention and an extra special lesson? Sounds like something you only find in certain writings, if you ask me. So, don't shit your pants about it."

"This ain't a joke. I may not be a real teacher yet, but I have to follow the damn rules."

"Sure, but isn’t it fun to break the rules once in a while?" You asked to provoke him and leaned in. "Let’s be honest, Dixon. This was way more exciting than any discussion about Divided Loyalties."

His breath hitched, and for a short moment you could see the real man beneath again. But then he straightened up, shoving any emotions aside. "Get outta here. We’re done now."

"Sure… We’ll see about that." You grabbed your bag, trying to hold back a smile as you turned to leave. But just before closing the door, you glanced back over your shoulder at him. "Do not be fooled; I am but a mere troublemaker in thy class, yet my mischief will find thee again—so prepare thyself."

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

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intheupside · 8 months ago

Text

Sidney Crosby was his usual humble, appreciative self on Thursday morning after being informed that he was the Penguins' nominee for the Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy, awarded annually to the player who best exemplifies the qualities of perseverance, sportsmanship, and dedication to hockey.

No, he's not overcoming a terrible injury or health issue, and he didn't have to battle adversity off the ice. But with the work he puts into his game, there's nobody else that best exemplifies a dedication to hockey. With his role as a leader on the team, an ambassador to the game and just an overall great human, nobody else best exemplifies sportsmanship. And with him having the season he's having at age 36 -- 39 goals and 45 assists in 76 games, on a mission to drag the Penguins into a postseason spot at any cost, he's a model of perseverance in his own way.

While Crosby may not quite agree with his own nomination -- the second nomination of his career, after he was a finalist in 2013 after his bounce back from concussions -- his teammates sure think he's deserving.

"It's everything he stands for," Rickard Rakell said. "It's about the leadership on and off the ice, the time he puts into getting to the top of his game. It's obviously well-deserved."

"It's the way he carries himself," added Marcus Pettersson. "He represents the game, in a way. He doesn't only represent us, for a long time he's been the face of hockey, too. The passion that he brings, and the love for the game that he brings, he's a very, very well-deserving nominee."

As far as sportsmanship, Crosby is a model of that both on and off the ice. Off the ice, he's an ambassador to the game. He never turns down media, and is almost always available to speak in the locker room after games and practices. He's generous with his time, as exemplified in a story Brian Boyle recently shared of Crosby spending nearly an hour playing bubble hockey with Boyle's young son Declan after a game when Boyle's family was in town during the 2021-22 season, and taking the time to FaceTime with Boyle's kids when they were back home in the Boston area. He's accessible to fans, with Mike Sullivan noting that he's never seen Crosby turn down a kid seeking an autograph or looking to meet him.

"Some of the small gestures for me are the ones that mean most," Sullivan said. "Not everybody gets a chance to see that side of Sid."

Crosby is just a giver too, whether it be for teammates or complete strangers. I've seen him before in front of me on the drive into PPG Paints Arena for game nights, and he's cut across lanes approaching an intersection to get next to the median to give money to a homeless person. One of my favorite stories about Crosby came courtesy of Joseph Blandisi, who recalled what Crosby did for Adam Johnson after Johnson's NHL debut in Nashville in 2019.

"I remember that the day after (Johnson's) first NHL game," Blandisi told me after Johnson's death in October. "Crosby had his tailor in the dressing room and got Johnny a suit from his tailor as a congratulations for his first NHL game. That's a story I always tell when people ask me how it was playing with Sid, I always tell the story that he bought Johnny a suit after his first game. That always stuck with me."

Crosby reflected on Letang's win last season on Thursday, after he succeeded him as the Penguins' nominee.

"Given the fact that he had gone through (the stroke) once before, and then having to go through it again and seeing over the years how hard he's worked and what he's gone through to still be playing to a level that he is, it's really impressive," Crosby said. "It was much more deserving, probably, than my nomination."

sid for masterton 🥹

#pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby

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lefteagleblizzard · 2 months ago

Text

𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲

Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: A well-meaning gesture drives a painful wedge between Mike Schmidt and the person he loves. As regret sets in, Mike realizes he can't bear the distance and seeks to mend their fractured bond.

Tags: Part 5 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Heavy angst at the start. You and Mike argue. Sad moments. Make-up smut. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Anal sex.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words count: 5500 words

Part 1-part 2-part 3-part 4-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8-Part 9-Part 10

The night was quiet, almost too quiet.

You and Mike were seated at the small, worn dining table in the kitchen, the remnants of dinner between you. The meal had been simple, but it was the kind of home-cooked food that brought a sense of normalcy to the chaos of everyday.

Mike looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off an ever-present headache.

You hated seeing him like this.

Over the past few weeks, you'd watched as the stress slowly chipped away at him, and it had been tearing you apart inside. You wanted to help, to do something that might ease his burden, even if only a little.

That's why you'd made the decision. You'd hoped it would be a surprise, something to bring a smile to his face, to show him that he wasn't alone in this.

"I, uh..” You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in your hand. The words felt heavy in your throat, but you pushed them out anyway, hoping they would bring some relief. "I took care of the bills this month."

Mike's hand, which had been resting on the table, stilled. He looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I paid them. The electricity, the water... rent. I had some extra from my scholarship, and I thought-"

"What?" Mike's voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat.

"You paid my bills?"

“I was just trying to help," you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "You've been so stressed, and I thought this might take some of the pressure off. I just wanted to do something for you, to help you relax a bit"

For a moment, there was silence. You could see the wheels turning in Mike's head, could almost hear the gears grinding as he processed what you'd said.

But instead of the gratitude or relief you'd hoped for, his expression darkened, a flash of something you couldn't quite identify flickering across his face.

Anger? Embarrassment?

"Why would you do that?" His voice was sharper now, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

Your heart sank, the unease in your chest growing stronger. "I just... I hate seeing you so stressed out all the time. I thought if I could help with the finances, it might give you one less thing to worry about."

Mike stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that made you flinch. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles were coiled tight like a spring about to snap.

"Do you think I can't take care of my own bills?" His voice was louder now, the anger unmistakable. "Do you think I need you to swoop in and fix everything for me?"

"No, of course not," you stammered, standing up as well, your own hands shaking slightly as you tried to explain.

"I just wanted to help, Mike. That's all."

"Well, maybe I don't want your help." The words were like a slap in the face, each one stinging more than the last. "Maybe I don't need you to play the hero and save the day."

"I wasn't trying to play the hero,I just wanted to support you” you said, your voice trembling as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

Mike let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. "Support? Is that what you call this? Going behind my back and doing things without even telling me? That's not support, that's... I don't even know what that is."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "I'm sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't handle things. I just thought... I thought it might help."

"Well, you thought wrong" His voice was cold now, devoid of the warmth and affection you'd grown used to. "I don't need you to take over my life. I'm perfectly capable of handling things on my own."

The words cut deep, each one driving the knife a little further into your heart. You'd crossed a line, and now everything was falling apart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you took a step back.

But Mike didn't respond. He just turned his gaze away from you and took a seat back on his chair, his back rigid as he stared at the wall, his silence more painful than any words he could have said.

The tears you'd been holding back finally began to fall, silent but heavy, as you realized just how badly you'd messed up.

"I think I should go," you said after a long moment, your voice tight with emotion. "Give you some space."

Still, Mike didn't say anything. The silence between you was thick with tension, with all the things that had been left unsaid. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him how much you cared, how much you wanted to make things right. But the look on his face, the coldness in his eyes, stopped you.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked to the door, your footsteps echoing in the quiet house. You grabbed your jacket and keys, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back at Mike one last time. But he was still facing away from you, his posture tense, his silence deafening.

The cool night air hit you like a physical blow, the shock of it jolting you back to reality. You stood on the porch for a moment, your breath coming in shaky gasps as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

You'd overstepped. You'd tried to help, but instead, you'd taken away Mike's control, his autonomy, and in doing so, you'd hurt him in a way you hadn't anticipated. The weight of that realization settled heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

The walk back to your college dorm was long, each step feeling like a mile as you replayed the argument over and over in your mind.

You could see every detail with painful clarity: the look on Mike's face, the anger in his voice, the way he'd turned away from you as if he couldn't bear to look at you. And with each replay, the guilt grew stronger, until it felt like a physical presence, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on you from all sides.

By the time you reached your dorm, your heart was pounding, and your thoughts were a chaotic mess of regret and sorrow. You barely noticed your roommate wasn't there as you stumbled into the room, the silence of the empty space pressing in on you from all sides.

You collapsed onto your bed, the tears you'd been holding back finally breaking free. They came in heavy, wracking sobs that shook your entire body, the sound of your anguish echoing off the walls. You buried your face in your pillow, trying to stifle the noise, but it was no use. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, and all you could do was let it out, hoping that somehow, it would ease the ache in your chest.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. When it finally did, it was fitful and restless, plagued by dreams of Mike's hurt expression, of the coldness in his voice as he told you he didn't need your help. You woke up several times, each time with the same hollow feeling in your chest, the same crushing sense of regret.

The weekend had arrived, and with it, a hollow emptiness that seemed to seep into every corner of your world. The dormitory was slowly emptying out, the usual buzz of students excited for their weekend plans replaced by an eerie quiet as one by

one, they left for home, parties, or short trips.

Your roommate was packing up, his belongings scattered haphazardly around the room as he prepared to leave for the weekend too. The rustling of clothes, the clatter of things being tossed into a bag. Each sound felt like a reminder that you, had nowhere to go, no plans to look forward to.

He glanced over at you, sitting on your bed, staring at your phone as if willing it to ring, to vibrate, to do something other than lie still and silent.

The argument with Mike had left you adrift, and the days since had passed in a blur of muted emotions and half-hearted attempts to distract yourself from the gnawing ache in your chest.

But now, with the weekend here and no word from Mike, that ache had only grown more intense, settling into your bones like a cold that wouldn't go away.

"Hey," your roommate said, breaking the silence as he zipped up his bag. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity that made you tense. "You've been really quiet lately. Is everything okay? Missing your boyfriend or something?"

You stiffened at the question, your eyes flicking up to meet his. He wasn't someone you'd ever been particularly close with, your relationship with him more out of necessity than any real friendship.

You'd never trusted him with your deeper feelings, and now was no different. The last thing you wanted was to overshare with someone who wouldn't understand, who couldn't possibly grasp the depth of what you were feeling.

"Yeah," you replied shortly, your voice lacking any real conviction. "We... had an argument. Things have been a bit off lately, and I don't think I'll be seeing him this weekend."

Your roommate raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips that only served to irritate you further. "An argument, huh? Must've been something serious if you're moping around like this."

You didn't respond, your gaze shifting back to your phone. The last thing you wanted was to get into the details of your fight with Mike, especially with someone like him. But your roommate didn't take the hint.

"I mean, it's not like I want to be a downer or anything," he continued, a note of condescension in his voice, "but it's kind of obvious things wouldn't work out between you two. You're younger, and let's be real, Mike's got a lot of baggage. A kid sister to take care of, not much money... That's a lot to deal with, especially for someone like you."

His words stung, each one digging into the raw wound in your heart. You knew there were obstacles between you and Mike but you'd never seen those as reasons to give up on him. You cared about him deeply, loved him even.

"You don't know him, or what we have. Just because it's complicated doesn't mean it won't work." you said, your voice colder than you intended, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Your roommate shrugged, clearly unfazed by your tone. "Whatever, man. I'm just saying, maybe it's time to face reality. Relationships like that don't usually last. You're both in different places in life, and it's only going to get harder from here"

He zipped up his bag with a finality that made your stomach turn, the sound grating against your nerves. "Anyway, good luck with all that. Hope you figure things out."

He gave you a nod, that same smug look on his face, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the now-empty room, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the door, your mind replaying the argument with Mike over and over again.

The guilt was overwhelming, a constant presence that gnawed at you no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Eventually, you couldn't stand being in the room any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the silence suffocating.

You needed to do something, anything to distract yourself from the pain that had settled in your chest. So, you grabbed your coat and decided to head to the library.

Maybe a good book could take your mind off things, even if only for a little while.

The campus was nearly deserted, most students having already left for the weekend.

When you arrived at the library, the warmth inside was a welcome relief, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of old books providing a small comfort. The library was as empty as the rest of the campus, save for the sweet old lady who worked behind the counter.

Mrs. Halloway had always been kind to you, her gentle smile and warm demeanor making the library feel like a safe haven.

"Afternoon, dear," she greeted you with a smile as you approached the counter. "What brings you in today? Looking for something in particular?"

"Hi, Mrs. Halloway," you replied, forcing a small smile as you approached. "I'm just looking for something to read this weekend. Maybe something from the horror section?"

"Horror, hmm?" Mrs. Halloway led you over to the section. "I think I have just the thing for you."

She scanned the shelves with practiced ease before pulling out a book with a worn cover, the title barely legible. "This one's an oldie but a goodie. I think you'll enjoy it."

You thanked her and took the book, glancing at the cover. Your heart sank as you read the title.

“The Shining” by Stephen King.

You'd heard of the story before. A man slowly losing his grip on reality as the pressure of providing for his family overwhelmed him.

You couldn't help but mentally scoff at the accuracy and timing.

Of all the books she could have chosen, it had to be this one.

Still, you took the book because you didn’t the heart to refuse something from her.

As you turned to leave, the phone on the counter rang, the sudden noise making you jump. Mrs. Halloway sighed, clearly annoyed by the interruption, and made a small noise of frustration. "Oh, bother," she muttered, her hands occupied with the stack of books she was sorting. "Would you mind answering that for me, dear? My hands are a bit full at the moment."

"Sure, no problem," you replied, stepping behind the counter and picking up the receiver. "Hello. How can I help you?"

There was a pause on the other end, a moment of silence that made your heart skip a beat.

Then, a small voice, hesitant but familiar, spoke.

"Um, hi... is this... is this you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the voice. "Abby?" you asked, your voice soft, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, it's me," she replied, sounding both relieved and nervous. "I... I found this number in your notebook, the one you left at our house. I wanted to call you because... because I miss you. Why aren't you here? I wanted to see you this weekend."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the longing in her voice tugging at your heartstrings.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "... I'm sorry, Abby. I can't be there this weekend. I'm...I'm busy”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her disappointment. "Oh... okay. But... but why? Why can't you come? Mike's been really quiet this days, and I thought maybe you could make him smile again. You always do."

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears finally spilling over as you struggled to keep your voice steady. "I... I can't, Abby. I'm really sorry. But... but I promise I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, her voice small and sad. "I miss you..."

"I miss you too, Abby," you whispered, the words barely audibie as you fought to keep your composure. "But I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay..." Abby's voice trailed off, and then there was a click as she hung up. You stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to your ear, the silence on the other end ringing in your ears.

Mrs. Halloway looked up from her work, concern etched on her face. "Everything okay, dear?"

You forced a shaky smile, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "Yeah, it was just... just a prank call, I think." you mumbled, the words feeling hollow as you turned to leave, the book clutched tightly in your hand.

When you finally reached your room, you tossed the book onto the bed, the sight of it only reminding you of how empty and lonely the weekend would be without Mike.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your thoughts spiraling as the reality of the situation sank in.

You'd never felt so lost, so unsure of what to do next. All you knew was that you missed Mike more than anything, and the thought that you might have ruined everything between you made the ache in your chest almost unbearable.

The afternoon faded into evening, and the dim light of the setting sun cast long shadows across your dorm room.

You sat on your bed, your back against the wall, the book lying forgotten next to you.

As you stared blankly out the window, lost in your thoughts, a soft thud broke the silence. At first, you thought you'd imagined it, but then it came again, another quiet tap against the glass, like something small and solid striking the pane. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffing softly as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the window, your heart beating a little faster as you drew back the curtain. What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

There, standing in the twilight below, was Mike. His dark hair was a little disheveled, his expression a mixture of worry and hope. In his hand, he held a single rose, its delicate petals a deep, velvety red.

You recognized it immediately as one of the roses from the bushes you and he had grown together in his garden, a project that had started as a way to brighten up his yard for Abby.

For a moment, you just stared, unable to process the fact that he was actually here. The days of silence had made you fear the worst, that you might never hear from him again, that the argument had driven a wedge between you that couldn't be undone.

When his eyes met yours, they softened with regret. He must have seen the redness and puffiness in your eyes, the signs of the tears you'd been shedding, because his expression changed, becoming even more tender, more apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he called up loud enough for you to hear. "Can we talk?"

Without thinking, you nodded and quickly moved away from the window, heading for the door to let him in.

You barely noticed the emptiness of the hallways as you made your way down to the entrance, your thoughts entirely consumed by the fact that Mike was here. When you reached the door and opened it, there he was, standing just outside, the rose still clutched in his hand.

He looked relieved to see you up close, his tense shoulders relaxing a little as his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say next.

"Hi," you replied, your own voice just as quiet, the tension between you thick and palpable.

There was a moment of silence as you both stood there, unsure of how to proceed. It was as if the days apart had created a chasm that neither of you knew how to cross, but the fact that he was here, that he had come to you, was a start.

"... I didn't know if you'd want to see me," Mike finally admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you.

You swallowed hard, your emotions a tangled mess inside you. "Same," you confessed. "I thought... i thought I'd ruined everything."

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a small, sad smile. "No. You didn't ruin anything. We just... we both messed up, I think. Can we go somewhere and talk?"

You nodded and without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, the rose forgotten as your fingers intertwined with his. The familiar feeling of his large, calloused hand in yours was a balm to your aching heart, and you realized just how much you had missed missed him.

You led him back to your dorm room, the two of you walking side by side in silence. The hallways were empty, the usual bustle of student life replaced by the quiet that came with the weekend.

When you reached your room, you held the door open for him, your heart pounding as he stepped inside. He took in the small space, his eyes moving from the neatly made bed on your roommate's side to the cluttered mess on your own. Textbooks, clothes, and the unopened horror novel.

He glanced at the book, a small smile playing on his lips as he read the title.

"The Shining?" he said, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to the book "Lots of isolation, a guy slowly losing his mind, relationship falling apart. I guess I'm the guy going crazy in this situation, huh?"

"Mike..." you began, but he held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

"No, let me say this," he said, his voice shaking slightly "I... I need to apologize. For everything. For how I reacted, for what I said... I was out of line. I was angry, but not at you. I was angry at myself. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I felt humiliated. Like I couldn't take care of myself or Abby. And the last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you had to step in and save us."

His words hit you hard, the weight of his insecurities finally laid bare between you. "I never thought you couldn't take care of yourself," you said, your voice trembling.

Mike squeezed your hand, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes. "I know. But sometimes, I need to be the one to take care of things, even if it's hard. It's how I feel like I'm doing right by Abby, like I'm proving that I can be a good brother to her. But I also need to learn that it's okay to let people in."

You could feel the tears spilling over now, the floodgates opening as all the emotions you'd been holding back came rushing to the surface. "I never wanted to make you feel like you were not good enough," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I know," Mike murmured, his own voice thick with emotion. He reached up, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"And I want you to be. These days apart made me realize how much I need you, how much value you have in my life. I can't do this without you."

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the raw pain that had been festering since the argument. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you savored the closeness you had missed so much.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was so scared that I'd lost you."

Mike pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his embrace warm and comforting. You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for days slowly melting away.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the closeness heal the wounds that had been inflicted by your argument. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as you shifted closer, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

When the tears finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft, filled with a mixture of relief and affection that made your heart ache in the best way possible.

Mike's hand, still resting on your cheek, slowly slid down to your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. There was something in his eyes, a look that went beyond the relief of reconciliation, a mixture of need, desperation, and a deep, aching love that he didn't quite know how to put into words. He had always struggled with expressing himself, with finding the right way to communicate how he felt, but right now he seemed determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

He wasn't satisfied with just words. He needed to show you, to prove to you in a way that went beyond apologies and promises.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice husky and filled with longing.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and that was all the invitation he needed.

He leaned in, kissing you with urgency. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that made your pulse quicken, his hands coming up to cup your face, holding you as if you might slip away if he let go.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching out to grasp his shoulders, grounding yourself as he pressed closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. "Mike," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took in the intensity of his gaze. "Are you... are you sure you want to do this? Here?"

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and filled with affection as he leaned in to nuzzle your neck. "Yes," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and soothing. "I want to make you feel good right now. I need to show you how much I missed you."

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at his words, your nerves suddenly on edge. The thought of what he was suggesting made your pulse quicken with both excitement and trepidation.

You could feel it in the way his hands moved over your body, in the way his lips pressed against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made you tremble.

He captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss that left you breathless. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss was desperate, almost possessive, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't say aloud.

As his lips moved down to your neck, peppering your skin with soft, lingering kisses, he paused for a moment, glancing at the bed beneath you. "Is this your bed?" he asked, his tone playful as he nipped at your collarbone.

You hesitated for just a fraction of a second, your mind flashing back to the hurtful words your roommate had thrown at you before he left. The sting of those words was still fresh, a reminder of how others perceived your relationship with Mike.

"No," you replied with feigned innocence, pointing to the other bed. "That one's mine." you said, doing your best to sound casual.

Mike nodded, not suspecting a thing, and before you could react, he leaned down and scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he stood, holding you close to his chest. The suddenness of the gesture made your heart race, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling up inside you.

"Mike!” you exclaimed, more out of surprise than protest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

He grinned up at you. "I've got you," he murmured, his hands found their way to your ass, cupping it firmly as he carried you.

Without further ado, he reached the bed you'd pointed to and gently lowered you onto it, your back sinking into the mattress with a soft thud. He was already leaning over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he hovered above you, his face just inches from yours.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Mike whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss was deeper, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour all the longing and need he had felt during your time apart into this single moment.

His hands moving to unbutton your shirt, each button slipping free under his deft fingers until your chest was exposed to him. He took a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down to your chest.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back, as if he didn't want to rush this moment, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to.

His hands moved lower, unbuckling your belt and sliding your pants down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled your pants off completely, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He moved down your body, his lips trailing a path of fire as he explored every inch of you. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, the way he kissed and nipped at you, made you moan softly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

As he moved lower, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration. You felt the heat between your legs build, the anticipation almost unbearable as he teased.

When his lips finally reached their destination, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

Mike's pace was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He took his time, drawing out every sensation, every moan, until you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with need.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with evidence of his work, you were a mess of whimpers and gasps, your body aching for release. But Mike wasn't done with you yet. He moved back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that made you dizzy with want.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against your lips, his voice gentle despite the desperation you could feel in his touch.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you tried to form words. "I... I need you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. "Please, Mike."

"Do you have any lube?" he asked, his voice husky and breathless, but still tinged with concern. His question caught you off guard, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process the words. You were already panting, your body flushed with arousal, but somewhere in the haze of your mind, you registered the importance of his question.

"Yeah...." you managed to say, your voice trembling with anticipation and a hint of shyness. You pointed towards the drawer by your bed, your heart pounding as you watched Mike's eyes follow the direction of your gesture.

He glanced back at you, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips as he realized what you were indicating. "In there?" he asked, and you nodded.

Mike leaned over, his hand reaching out to open the drawer. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out the small bottle of lube.

"This?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity as he looked at you, his grin widening at your obvious embarrassment.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your face burning as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "Y-yeah," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper

Mike chuckled softly, setting the bottle aside for a moment as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "You're adorable when you're shy" he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you.

His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the weight of him grounding you, making everything feel more real.

"You're so perfect," Mike whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, across your chest. "So perfect for me."

The words made your heart swell, and you reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, seeing the love and need reflected there.

He entered you slowly, the stretch and burn of him filling you completely, making you gasp as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was trying to remind you of everything you had shared, of everything you had lost and found again.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps that escaped your lips as he drove into you, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

"You'll always be mine, my good boy. No one else... just you." Mike growled, his voice rough and possessive as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, deeper.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body respond to his voice, to the way he claimed you with each movement, each touch. You clung to him, your hands clutching at his back as he drove you both higher, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best possible way.

You finally reached that peak together, your body trembling beneath him as you came, the pleasure washing over you in waves so intense that you could barely breathe.

Mike groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. His body shaking with the force of it.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, Mike's hold on you never wavered, his body pressed against yours as he held you close.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light of the room. There was a softness in his gaze, a look of contentment and relief that made your heart swell with affection. He reached out, his calloused, large hand cradling your face gently, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek.

For a moment, he just stared at you, taking in every detail of your face-your slightly swollen lips, the flush in your cheeks. But then, as if the words slipped out before he could stop them, he whispered, "Move in with me."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw need that laced every word. You could see how much the time apart had affected him, how deeply he had missed you, just as you had missed him.

It was everything you had wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But you couldn't ignore the practicalities, the reality of your situation.

“I could finish my degree remotely."

He blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "Remotely?"

You nodded again, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Yeah. A lot of schools are offering that now, you know? I could do my classes from your home. We wouldn't have to be apart anymore."

The idea began to take shape in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You wouldn't have to face those lonely nights in your dorm, wondering when you'd get to see him again.

"But what about Abby?" you asked, still wanting to be sure that this would work for everyone. "What about you? I don't want to be a burden..."

Mike's smile softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. "You're not a burden. Abby loves you, and I..." He paused, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I need you with me. We'll make it work, I promise."

A smile slowly spread across your face, and you nodded, feeling a sense of excitement and relief wash over you. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "Let's do it."

"I can't wait to wake up every morning with you all curled up on me like a koala," he said with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You always do that, you know? Cling to me like I'm your personal pillow."

You laughed quietly, the sound filled with affection. "You are pretty comfortable," you teased, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "I can't help it if you're the perfect shape for cuddling."

You lifted your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. "And I can't wait to hear you snore loudly every night," you quipped, your tone just as playful.

Mike pretended to be offended, his eyes widening in mock indignation. "I do not snore that badly!" he protested, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress your grin. "Oh really? Then why does Abby always ask to close the door to her room?" you shot back, knowing full well the answer.

Mike blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "Okay, maybe I snore a little," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly good-natured.

"A little?" you echoed, your grin widening as you playfully poked his side. "Mike, you sound like a chainsaw sometimes."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made your heart feel light and happy. "I guess that just means you'll have to get used to it," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Because you're stuck with me now"

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a contentment that you knew would last far beyond this moment. "I wouldn't have it any other way," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

Mike smiled, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let you go. "Me neither," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

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