#before the movies I never knew they were supposed to be kids/teenagers ??

[fuck-kirk]

The funny thing abt me being into Sonic and Stobotnik rn is that the only Sonic games ive ever played are sonic unleashed and shadow the headgehog on ps2, which ive been informed by my Sonic obsessed friend, are two totally random games for me to have played

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

i.

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly. 

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough. 

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours. 

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters. 

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood. 

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was. 

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross. 

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt. 

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out. 

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all. 

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same. 

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines. 

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head. 

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.” 

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers. 

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door. 

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care. 

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself. 

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be. 

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in. 

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene. 

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago. 

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned. 

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?” 

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now. 

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing. 

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?” 

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly. 

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself. 

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly. 

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity. 

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity. 

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features. 

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity. 

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script. 

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right. 

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of. 

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth. 

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch. 

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.” 

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound. 

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction. 

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides. 

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant. 

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you. 

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants. 

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes. 

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked. 

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch. 

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily. 

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan. 

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible. 

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock. 

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered. 

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding. 

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words. 

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background. 

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian. 

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure. 

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace. 

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear. 

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy. 

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind. 

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity. 

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes. 

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?” 

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly. 

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips. 

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light. 

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was. 

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly.  “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.” 

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events. 

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

[cloversplace]

“Pony was being dramatic!” “Darry only hit him once!” “You’re telling me Darry never hit him before?” “Johnny gets hit everyday at home and doesn’t complain!”

Shush. Just, stop for a minute. I personally think that Pony’s reaction to getting slapped was justified, and it angers me a little sometimes when people chalk it down to just him being a brat. Ponyboy already thinks Darry doesn’t want him around, Darry’s constantly on Pony for every little thing, being hard on him to keep him from getting taken away. Hitting him is one thing that would get Pony taken away faster than anything else, in doing this, Darry’s accidentally sending Ponyboy a message: He doesn’t just not want him around, he wants to get rid of him as quickly as possible. 

“Oh but Darry probably hit him a lot when they were kids!” EXACTLY. When. They. Were. KIDS. Darry 100% slugged Pony a couple times bc he was being a little shit, but Darry’s stuck halfway between being a father and a brother. He’s not just Pony’s brother anymore, he’s his guardian. Pony explicitly says that no one in his family hit each other, including their parents. Pony says Darry looks exactly like their dad, in that moment, Pony can’t imagine his father hitting him. If his parents had still been alive and his father had hit him instead of Darry, Pony would’ve had the same reaction. Pony’s in shock, when someone is hurt they go into fight or flight, Pony is a track star, and also kinda scrawny. (no offense Pony) He’s gonna choose to run instead of try to fight back. Because in his mind, if Darry hit him once, who’s to say he isn’t gonna do it again?

Now onto Johnny, yes Johnny has it way, way worse at home than Pony does. But he’s also used to it, it’s sad, but true. Johnny’s used to being hit by his parents, Pony isn’t. The first hits are always the worst. We see that in Tex and The Outsiders. There’s no doubt in my mind that Johnny acted like Pony did when he was younger, when he wasn’t so used to his parents hitting him. If Darry continued to hit Pony, Pony would eventually start to act like Johnny. Learn to take it. I also don’t think that Johnny was mad/annoyed with Pony for acting like he did. Maybe Johnny was a little jealous when Pony used to complain that Darry hated him. But that was before Darry hit him, Johnny’s probably a little mad at Darry too, being honest. Darry’s supposed to be the one holding them together. The one refuge most greasers on the East side have. Johnny probably knew deep down that Darry was scared and most likely felt bad and won’t do it again. But you still don’t hit people when you’re scared. Johnny has never been hit out of fear, every time his parents beat on him it’s out of anger. You hit out of anger, you fight back out of fear. 

So no, Pony didn’t deserve to be slapped. He wasn’t asking for it. They lost their parents less than a year ago. Darry is 20 years old for fuck’s sake! I bet some of you reading this right now are either older than that or only a year or two younger. 20 is arguably still a kid, and 20 should not be the age to take on two jobs, maintaining a house, and taking care of two teenagers, plus 4 other teens and oh, I don’t know, almost everyone in eastern Tulsa? That’s too much to ask of anyone. Even if Pony was being a little shit (which he usually is, but in the argument that night I would say Darry kind of instigated it more, at least in the book/movie) that still doesn’t mean he deserved the hit, or shove, in the movie’s case. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I really needed to just put that out there. I’m seeing so many people ratting on Pony for the way he acted, especially comparing him to the way Johnny is treated at home. Which isn’t fair in my opinion. Thank u for listening! 💜

@natur3sf1rstgr33n @magefelixir @staygoldspiiderrah @marciavalance @sonnysimagination@polishravagingasexual @dairyfairyy @curtis-brothers-hug @penguinstuff @colequette@therealtwobit67 @far-away-from-tulsa @strxwberry-julius @fawning4leif @im14andivebeen14foramonth @chipperdipperr @stayruby @averagefandomist @johnnycademyschmookie @maxiebearz @totoroboiii

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! Would it be possible to see the party or the older group see Steve’s father first hand? Like realizing that Steve’s been abused and learning how much shit he goes through on the daily with them and then his family?

This one was so difficult emotionally. I leaned real heavy into the emotional and verbal abuse (the use of a slur does happen), briefly mentioned some past physical abuse, but then the rest was just some supportive Eddie, supportive Robin, supportive kids, and I threw in some supportive Wayne because I can't resist. I hope the soft supportive stuff makes up for what I put Steve through at the beginning! - Mickala ❤️

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It was supposed to be the first movie night with all of them together post-Vecna, post-Eddie and Max getting out of the hospital, post-almost losing everything.

It was supposed to be relaxing and fun.

It was not.

Just when they all settled with their snacks and drinks, the movie’s opening credits rolling, a car pulled into the driveway.

Steve did a quick headcount of everyone present, wondering if somehow someone was running late.

But everyone was here.

“Why is every light in the house on?” He heard his dad’s voice ask outside the front door.

Shit.

Everyone looked at Steve, eyes wide, but frozen in place, no idea what to do.

Well, he didn’t know what to do either.

Last time he saw his dad was his high school graduation, and that hadn’t ended well. They’d only spoken on the phone twice since then: once when he told him about the mall fire and once about the pool cleaner going out of business.

Before he could think of what to do or say, his dad was walking into the living room.

That was the same scowl Steve got when he didn’t get into college.

Oh boy.

“Steven. Care to explain why I have a house full of children and teenagers?”

He didn’t know what came over him; Maybe it was just a false bravado put on because he knew his dad wouldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people or maybe he just had a thoughtless reaction.

“They’re all teenagers actually. We’re having movie night.”

His dad’s face went nearly purple with rage.

Not just anger. Pure, unfiltered, and completely undeserved rage.

Eddie spoke up first, thankfully distracting the kids from the explosion that was probably about to occur.

“It’s been so nice of Steve to open up his home to kids who needed a place to go to stay out of trouble. After the quake, it’s been difficult, you know?”

How he managed to say any of that with a straight face, Steve didn’t know.

But he was grateful.

His dad looked around at the mix of kids.

To an outsider, their group definitely didn’t make sense.

To his dad, he’d see a bunch of kids he didn’t know suddenly aware of where all of his valuables in his house were.

“And you are?”

Richard Harrington’s scowl had lessened slightly, but disgust started taking over as he looked at Eddie.

“Oh! I’m Eddie Munson. Yes, related to that Munson, but only by blood.”

Eddie was confident, calm, not backing down even a little as Richard’s eyes squinted at him, judgment clear as day on his face.

“Steven, I need to speak with you alone.”

His dad didn’t give him a chance to respond before he was walking out of the room towards the kitchen.

Everyone was looking at Steve, he could feel their looks burning the back of his and side of his face. Eddie and Robin were closest to him, so he could see out of the corner of his eyes their panic at the situation.

Steve got up and walked to the kitchen, no one trying to stop him because no one knew what his father was capable of.

He never let them know what his father was capable of.

When he got to the kitchen, his father was sipping a glass of water, his stance more relaxed but still too stiff to be considered casual.

“Where’s mom?” Steve asked hesitantly, quietly, the way he’d been taught from a young age to approach his dad.

“She’s with friends in Jamaica. We’ll be meeting up in New York in two days. Care to explain what the hell is going on?”

Steve gulped.

He wasn’t yelling yet, but he wasn’t whispering either. He knew the group of kids in the other room would be listening to every single movement and breath in here, ready to burst in if needed.

“It’s like Eddie said, they just need somewhere to hang out and I have plenty of space-“

“You? You have plenty of space? Since when do you pay the bills here? Since when is the mortgage in your name?”

His dad was good at the false calm, the even tone, the emotionless face.

Until he wasn’t.

“Sorry. I’ll take them home.”

Steve bit his lip. It’s been a while since he had to deal with his father like this, and the tears he normally could hold back until he was in his room were threatening to fall already.

“You drive them around, too? Do you feed them? Take them to appointments? What don’t you do for them? And that Eddie guy, you know his dad’s been in prison for six years for drug trafficking and grand theft auto? You want someone like that in my house?” His dad set his water down on the counter next to him. “That girl. Is she your girlfriend? Who are her parents? I don’t think I’ve seen her before. You know what we’ve told you about setting the right future with the right woman. If we don’t know her parents, then she can’t be the right one.”

Steve could do this. He could just let his dad get it all out and then get everyone to leave and hide in his room.

Maybe it wouldn’t even be a problem tomorrow, forgotten like he always was.

“Are you going to answer me or am I supposed to read your mind?”

Steve cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out strong and confident.

“I’m their babysitter, so I take care of them when they need it and sometimes that means driving them places. Robin isn’t my girlfriend, she’s just a friend.”

He couldn’t talk about Eddie, and he hoped his dad didn’t push it.

But his dad always pushed it.

“Eddie Munson is not to come into this house again. I’m calling to get the locks changed tomorrow and contacting the neighbors to tell them to call my secretary if they see his van.”

“Dad, wait-“

“Are you arguing with me?”

His face had gone red, and Steve knew he was only reigning it in because of the people in the living room.

He knew when they left, he’d wish he left too.

“No, sir. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t really sound like you mean it. You know, I was hoping that you would have reapplied to colleges for next year by now. I thought surely having a job and focusing on your future would set you on the right path. That maybe you and Nancy Wheeler would work it out by the time she graduated. Clearly, I should’ve been requiring updates more often. Adulthood isn’t about babysitting, Steven. And it’s certainly not about entertaining friends unless you plan on making a business deal.”

Steve was used to the spiel.

This job is temporary. You have to go to college. You will work for me. You will make our name proud. Blah, blah, blah.

But that’s never been what he wants. He knows his dad knows that, probably gave up hope when he was in high school anyway, but wouldn’t let it go. The opportunity to degrade him would always be the most important thing.

“It’s been a really busy month.”

“Oh has it? Please explain how you’ve had a busy month.”

He crossed his arms and waited for Steve to start talking.

Steve knew he’d already lost.

He’d never won before, so it shouldn’t be as disappointing as it is.

“Just with the quake and everything.”

“The house is fine. This whole neighborhood is fine. There’s plenty of places still open for work. I’m not sure why you think that’s an excuse.”

“I was dealing with some injuries and helping a few of the people out there with theirs.”

“So you got paid for being a nurse?”

“No. I didn’t get paid, I just helped.”

Steve was met with silence. Silence was almost worse than yelling.

“And you expect me to take you seriously as someone who is jobless, not going to college, and is helping people for free?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. If he said yes, his father would do that laugh that he did when he couldn’t believe how stupid Steve was and then yell and who knows what else. If he said no, he would go straight to yelling about how Steve can’t be taken seriously if he doesn’t even take himself seriously.

He heard some movement in the other room, whispering, then the front door opening.

Good. If they were gone, Steve wouldn’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed of what his dad would say or do.

The front door closed and Steve’s shoulders dropped. He wasn’t relaxed, but he was settling into what he knew was coming in, preparing for the verbal beatdown followed by whatever physical blow his father thought was appropriate for him.

“Don’t even want to explain yourself? Not even try?” Richard let out a small huff. “You know, I told your mom that you must be working so much, and that’s why you never answered the phone when we called. I stuck up for you, even though a small part of my brain kept saying that I shouldn’t. You’ve never impressed me before, why would you start now?”

Steve looked down at the floor, knowing he would only get away with it for a few more seconds at this rate.

“And then I even started mentioning to my buddies that you must be putting in so much effort with college applications, giving them an honest go so you could follow your girlfriend wherever she goes. But that just wouldn’t happen, would it? Nancy will go to an Ivy League school, make a name for herself, impress the world. And what will you do, Steven? You can’t even impress me.”

“You know, I’m used to shitty parenting. I had a mom who thought drugs were more important than me and a dad who spent more time in a jail cell than with me. But you’re real special, Richard.”

Eddie walked into the kitchen, face red with an anger that looked like it could match Steve’s dad.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You haven’t spent more than a few hours with your kid since he was probably in diapers, and even the time you do spend with him is probably just you letting him know how disappointed you are that he isn’t the smartest person alive.”

“You have no right-”

“Oh, I do, though. See, Steve is the reason I’m even alive. And while you may think that’s not a gift, maybe you even think the world would be better off without me, a whole lot of people are glad I’m still around, including Steve. In fact, pretty sure most of the kids you saw in that living room before wouldn’t be alive without him. Robin sure wouldn’t be. You only put value in what Steve can do to make you look better and how much earning potential he has, and forget that his value comes from the fact that he cares so deeply about all of us and does whatever it takes for us to be safe and happy.”

“I don’t see how that is a benefit to me or to him in the long run, and I’d appreciate if you watch your-”

“It is truly amazing how Steve turned out the way he did when you so clearly couldn’t be bothered being a parent.” Eddie shook his head. “Actually, I take that back. It’s clearly in large part because you didn’t bother trying that he managed to turn out okay.”

“Eds,” Steve started, holding a hand out to him to try to get him to stop.

Richard was starting to get the purple color to his face that meant he would be completely losing it soon.

“No, Steve. Let him take it out on me. If he wants to be mad, he can be mad at me. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about me. I don’t give a shit what he says to me. I don’t give a shit if he wants to hit me. Go ahead and do it, Richard. Take out your anger about being a shitty human and having a shitty marriage and shitty job on me instead of Steve for once.”

Eddie moved in front of Steve, head held high like he was proud to be there.

Like he would always stand in front of Steve if he let him.

Steve didn’t want to let him, though. Not after all he did to keep him safe and alive.

Steve’s first ever concussion didn’t come from an accident, or an alternate dimension creature. It came from his dad hitting just a bit too hard, aiming just right over his ear. His ear didn’t stop ringing for days, and he had his first real migraine for more than 24 hours.

No one knew that and he wanted to keep it that way, but he needed Eddie to understand he couldn’t put himself in the line of fire here.

“Eddie, please.”

Then Richard laughed.

Steve hated his laugh.

“I see now. I can’t believe you’ve found a new way to let me down, but you did it. I’m almost impressed, Steven.”

Steve glanced between Eddie’s face and his dad’s.

Something had shifted and Steve didn’t know what.

“You know I didn’t believe the rumors about you being a fag, just thought you were weird and a nobody and people were spewing extra bullshit because they didn’t like you. Now I see they were right,” Richard practically spit the last words.

Steve could see Eddie shaking in front of him, but he didn’t back down. He didn’t run.

“And you went and fell in love with my idiot son. Steve, did he turn you into one too?”

“Steve, you don’t have to answer anything,” Eddie said without turning to him.

Steve’s brain was going about 100 miles per hour.

He knew Eddie liked men. They’d talked about it when he accidentally came out when he was high on morphine in the hospital. He even offered to drive him and Robin to a place in Indy where they might actually meet someone.

He turned it down then and they barely spoke about it since.

He watched as Eddie’s entire body tensed, like he expected Steve to hit him.

Then the other part registered. The part where his dad said Eddie fell in love with Steve.

Steve laughed.

Eddie flinched.

Steve stopped laughing.

“This is gold. You didn’t even know, did you Steven?”

For the first time, Eddie was looking down at the floor, his hair falling in front of him to hide his face.

Steve wasn’t having it, not now, not from his dad, not because of something like this. Even if it was true…well, if it was true, then Eddie didn’t deserve it coming out like this.

“You know what? You’ve spent my entire life telling me who I should be. You worked so hard to mold me into a person as miserable as you. You almost succeeded. Luckily, I met people who made me want to be better, who made me better. Eddie is one of those people. He says I saved him, but he saved me first. He only needed saving because he wanted me to live. You didn’t even bother to come home to make sure I was okay after the quake.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re a grown man. We would have been called if you were in the hospital.”

“No you wouldn’t. You haven’t been my emergency contact in three years.”

His dad went pale at that.

“What do you mean? Who else?”

“Joyce Byers was, and then since last summer, it’s been Robin. They actually would come if I needed them.”

Eddie seemed to regain some of his composure, looking up at Richard with disdain.

“Kind of crazy how your son has so many people who love him for who he is and you can’t even be bothered to show up when he almost dies.” Eddie turned to Steve with a small, sad smile. “C’mon. Robin took the kids home in my van and I need a ride.”

“Steven, if you walk out the door, you better understand you won’t be welcome back here. Not with the disrespect you’ve shown me.”

“And the disrespect you’ve shown me? Eddie? My friends? What about that?”

Richard was silent, his teeth gritting together as he seethed to himself instead of out loud for once.

“Stevie, go grab some stuff from your room just in case, okay? I’ll wait here,” Eddie whispered.

“Eds, it’s fine. I won’t leave you alone with him,” Steve whispered back.

“I’m fine, Stevie. You can stay with me and Wayne tonight.”

Steve decided now wasn’t the time to talk, not while his father could hear.

He pulled Eddie along with him up the stairs, not giving him or his dad a chance to say anything else.

He grabbed the bag he kept under his bed for this kind of situation, already full of his savings, two sets of clothes, and important papers his dad probably didn’t even know he kept copies of: his birth certificate and social security card, the registration for the car showing it was in Steve’s own name, and the official copies of his trust fund documents.

He didn’t even know if Eddie had tried speaking to him again since coming in the room, he was too focused on getting out of there.

He thought about what he would do if his dad changed the locks before he could come back to get the rest of his stuff, which was likely.

He could find new clothes, he could replace his shampoo, but he glanced at his desk, where he kept pictures on a corkboard.

“Can you grab that board?”

Eddie looked over where Steve was staring and quickly grabbed it off the hooks on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“Anything you need.”

Steve tried not to think about it. He really did.

So he rushed back out of his room, down the stairs, and to the front door, Eddie close on his heels.

He got in his car, didn’t even stop to think about this being the last time he may be here.

Once Eddie closed the passenger door, he was backing out of the driveway and continuing out of the neighborhood.

They rode in silence for a couple miles, until Steve’s hands started shaking and Eddie told him to pull over.

“I’m gonna drive, okay? Robin’s probably waiting at mine already.”

Steve couldn’t argue, he knew he was too emotional to be behind the wheel. He may have only had a few more miles to go, but anything could happen if he wasn’t focused.

He zoned out on the rest of the drive. Eddie could have been trying to talk, but he didn’t hear it. The radio may have been on, but he didn’t hear it.

He didn’t even notice when they arrived at Eddie’s trailer until his door was opening and Robin was there, hands on his arms and rambling nervously.

“Oh my God, did he hurt you? I will go back there right now if you have so much as a hair out of place. He is such an asshole. Seriously, who does he think he is talking to you like that? Does he always say that kinda stuff? You need to get out of there. You can sleep in my attic or something, we’ll figure it out. I-”

“Robin, give him some air,” Eddie said softly, pulling her away from him and leaning down so he was face to face with Steve. “Stevie, do you wanna go inside? I’ll take Robin home and you can get settled.”

“Wait. He’s staying here tonight? Is he gonna live here now?” Robin was asking, pacing behind Eddie.

“He’s staying here tonight and maybe longer. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow. For now, he just needs to get inside and rest, okay?”

“Did he hurt him?”

“No, Robbie. He didn’t put his hands on him.”

“But he hurt him.”

Eddie sighed and nodded.

Steve looked at him, then at her, giving them both a small smile.

“I’m okay guys. I can drive Robin home. Maybe get a motel for the week.”

“Steve.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Eddie put his hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“You’re not fine. You can stay with me tonight and we can figure it out more tomorrow, okay?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to win. They’d take his keys and carry him into Eddie’s trailer. They would make all the kids come over to make sure he wouldn’t leave.

He loved them for it.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with relief. “Alright, Robbie. Get in the van, I’ve got a date with my couch tonight I just can’t miss.”

Robin rolled her eyes, but Steve was already zoning out again.

“Stevie? Wayne’s up, I see the light on. He can help you get settled.”

“He won’t be upset?”

Eddie’s face fell.

“No, swe-” Eddie cleared his throat. “He won’t be upset. He’ll be happy to have someone other than me to talk to.”

Steve nodded once, grabbed his bag from the floor by his feet, and got out of his car.

He could feel Robin and Eddie staring as he made his way into the trailer, heard their muttering, but not quite what they were muttering.

Being inside the trailer felt different, better. It felt like a home. Wayne had worked hard on making it cozy the moment the government had it brought here to replace their old one.

But Steve realized even without a lot of things, it still felt lived in.

He could feel how much love was in these walls, how safe he felt just standing in the living room.

“Eddie, that you?” Wayne called from the bathroom down the hall.

“No, sir, it’s Steve!”

“Steve!” Wayne came around the corner with a towel around his neck, shaving cream on his face. “Didn’t expect you. Thought it was movie night tonight.”

“Um. It was. I’m staying here tonight if that’s okay,” Steve said, looking down at the floor and kicking one foot against the carpet.

He could feel Wayne staring at him, but he didn’t think he had the strength to see him turn him away.

“Of course it’s okay. You’re welcome anytime, you know that.”

Steve nodded.

“You know where Eddie’s room is, go ahead and set your stuff in there. I’ll finish up and then grab you something to drink. Want a snack?”

“Oh. Um. No thank you. I’m pretty tired, so I think I might just go to bed.”

“You sure, kid?”

“Mhm. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

Wayne was coming closer, he could see his feet shuffling against the carpet.

A hand was suddenly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Son, I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I know I ain’t lettin’ you leave here tomorrow without talkin’ first. You ain’t botherin’ me if you need to stay here for a bit. We don’t have much, but we can figure it out.”

Steve sniffled. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t.

“Steve. Can I…shit, hold on. I got stuff on my face. Don’t move!”

Steve waited for Wayne to go back to the bathroom. He heard the sink turn on and Wayne grumbled something about how long it takes to get hot water in this dump. He let himself smile, mostly because Eddie had done the same thing when he was having to take careful showers while he was still healing. Wayne was walking back out of the bathroom, using the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“Can I hug you, kid?”

Steve just stared at him.

“Steve? You can say no. Just seemed like you might need one.”

He did need one.

Before he comprehended what he was doing, he fell into Wayne’s arms and let out a sob.

“It’s alright, son. It’s gonna be alright. We’ve got ya. Whatever it is, you’re safe here.”

His words just made Steve sob harder.

But Wayne gripped him harder, not even giving him the chance to think he was letting him go.

They stood like that for a while, probably too long, but Steve couldn’t pull away.

He heard the front door open and then Eddie asking something.

“Just needed to cry it out a little. You alright, Steve?”

Steve sniffed, pulling away so he could look at Eddie.

Eddie was watching him, concerned eyes watery with unshed tears.

“Stevie? Have you been crying the whole time?”

“No,” Steve said, his voice barely able to choke out a response.

“How about you boys head on to bed? I’m gonna be watchin’ my shows for a bit if you need me.”

“Alright, love you,” Eddie said, not taking his eyes off of Steve.

“Love ya both,” Wayne said.

Steve was at least able to hold himself together until he made it to Eddie’s room.

Then, he let go.

He let himself fall to his knees, let himself fall apart, for probably the first time ever.

He didn’t think about what Eddie would do or what Eddie would say or even what Eddie would think.

He just let himself feel the overwhelming sadness that comes from not being loved by a parent.

“Sweetheart, come here,” Eddie said into his ear as he pulled him to his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. Let it out. You’ve held it in too long.”

He had. God, he really had.

For years, he just pretended his dad was an asshole who didn’t come home often and had high expectations. He pretended his mom was just an important part of his business and that’s why she never bothered to stay home with him.

But for years, he knew that his parents just didn’t like him. They were disappointed in him as a son, and as a person.

He cried for the ten year old version of him who didn’t realize it would be his last birthday with his parents at home. He cried for the 12 year old version of him who had to forge a signature on his field trip form because his parents hadn’t been home in a month. He cried for the 16 year old version of him who was old enough not to need his parents most of the time but not old enough to be completely alone after his world turned upside down.

He cried for the version of him who couldn’t understand how so many people put their lives on the line for him, but his own parents couldn’t even call.

He cried because he knew that he would never be loved or accepted by his parents the way Wayne had just wholeheartedly accepted him, no questions asked.

“Stevie, you gotta take a few deep breaths, okay. In and out. Wanna try it with me?”

Steve felt the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest against his ear, felt him take a deep breath and tried to copy him, but his chest hurt and he couldn’t.

“Try again.”

So he did. And then again.

By the fourth time, it was easier. His lungs filled all the way, and he slowly let the air out. His face was wet, Eddie’s shirt was wet. He could feel snot dripping from his nose.

He knew Eddie didn’t sign up for this when he offered his place for the night.

He started to pull away, furiously wiping his eyes and face the best he could.

“Sorry. I’ll uh. I can go.”

“Steve,” Eddie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back so his back was against Eddie’s chest. “I want you to stay, okay? I need you to stay. I’ll feel better if you stay.”

Steve relaxed against Eddie’s body, the comfort too nice to give up at the moment.

They stayed like that for a while, Eddie’s fingers tracing shapes against Steve’s arms.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“Was he right?”

“About what?”

“You being in love with me?”

Eddie’s fingers stopped tracing for a moment, but then started back up. He could hear Eddie’s heartbeat quicken behind him.

“Would it be bad if he was right?”

Eddie sounded like he was going to cry now.

“No. It wouldn’t be bad at all.”

Steve knew he was emotional, and maybe now wasn’t the time to have this talk. Maybe they wouldn’t even have the whole talk they should have. But he knew that he wanted to tell Eddie what he’d been thinking about for, truly, weeks now.

“You remember in the hospital when you were high on morphine and you kept touching my cheek and telling me that you wanted to kiss the freckle that was right where I should have a dimple?”

“I don’t and I wish you didn’t.”

Steve let out a snort.

“Well, I couldn’t forget about it. And not just because you also had just come out to me, or because you were alive. I just kept thinking about how much I wanted you to kiss that freckle.”

“Stevie…”

“I know you’re gonna tell me we shouldn’t do this tonight. You’re right, we shouldn’t. But I need you to know that it’s not a new thing for me, that I love you, too.”

He felt a kiss to the top of his head.

It felt like Eddie just kissed every worry, every stress, every bad part of the night away.

“You’re right about not doing anything tonight. You’ve had a lot of emotions and you need to sleep it off a bit. But I’ll be right next to you. I’m here, Stevie. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“You’ll stay here tonight?”

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

“Mhm. I do.”

“Let’s get comfy then.”

Steve pulled away to stand up, but Eddie held his hand so he wouldn’t stand yet.

“We’re not doing anything, but. I kinda need to kiss you. If you’re good with that,” Eddie said, eyes wide with hope.

“I’m good with that,” Steve smirked.

When Eddie leaned in to kiss him, he kept his eyes open. Only long enough to see Eddie’s close and a small smile appear on his face, but it was a moment he would never forget. The first of so many moments he would never forget.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.9

I arrive at GeekCon both sweaty and with a vague sense of unease. The stifling heatwave has turned the city into a pressure cooker, and it feels foreboding, like something terrible is building and about to break free.

I’m greeted by my own face by the door, advertising the panel that I’m supposed to be on this morning. I never got comfortable seeing myself like this, I prefer it when they just use the logo or my masked promo pictures. At least today is the last time I’ll appear as Llama Man in any official capacity, and then…

Then I don’t know.

But there’ll be time to figure that out later, right now I’m about to see Julia again. I can’t believe it’s only been a year since we met, and I have no idea how she feels about me right now.

I spent most of the night in my hotel room tossing and turning, thinking about what I’ll say to her, but I still don’t have a plan. I just want to apologise for ending things so abruptly.

It really wasn’t my best work.

She said she just wanted to be with you. And then you dumped her.

I groan inwardly as I scan the faces of everyone I see. There’s no sign of her, but the cosplay competition isn’t until later, she may not have arrived yet.

I wonder if she’ll refuse to speak to me at all. I wouldn’t blame her, but she never seemed like the type to carry a grudge. I just want to see her and make sure she’s not too upset about how things ended, something I should have done months ago.

I need to make sure she doesn’t hate me. I can’t handle if she hates me.

I guess I’ll have to play it by ear, although Lee would tell me that’s not my strongest suit.

I leave my jacket in the wardrobe and linger a bit, fiddling with my VIP bracelet. The gallery’s air-conditioning is working overtime, and it helps a little with the heat but I still feel uneasy. My eyes are drawn to the bathroom door.

If this was a movie, Julia would come out of the bathroom right now, exactly like last time. Our eyes would meet. A beat, as the camera cut from her face to mine, both of us too surprised to speak. I would recover first, tell her that we can’t keep meeting like this, and her face would crack into a smile. Then she’d leap into my arms and I would kiss her like there were no tomorrow.

Get it together, Romeo. She’s not kissing you ever again, you’re going to be lucky if she even speaks to you. Focus. You’re at work.

At least I’m not in full costume this year, I would probably have died from heatstroke. And it would have made me feel silly trying to have a serious conversation with Julia.

I decide to take a quick tour of the convention floor before the panel starts.

Even though it’s still early in the day, there’s people everywhere. Some tabletop role-players are recording their podcast on location, kids are running around, and several people are dressed up despite the heat. I wish Julia had shown me pictures of the costume she was planning so I knew what to look for.

A woman with long, red hair makes me do a double take, but I know it isn’t Julia before she even turns around, the way she moves is wrong. I know every inch of Julia’s body and this isn’t it. Everything Julia is, the way she walks and talks and laughs is imprinted on my brain, and it feels like I should be able to locate her by telepathy, by following some sort of invisible string tying me to her.

“Uh, Mr. Romeo! Sorry, hello.”

“Oh, hey. Edmund, right?”

The young man beams, clearly pleased that I remember his name. His booth was next to mine last year, we talked about old movies. I wish I could introduce Julia to him, she would have loved to discuss Cow Plant Love with an expert.

“Wait, you do know him? I thought you were lying!” The teenage girl next to him sounds somewhere between impressed and angry.

“Yeah, why would I lie about that? Sorry, sir, this is my sister Liz, she’s a big fan of Llama Man.”

“Can I have your autograph? I collect them, I already got the Coolala guy and the Freezer Bunny lady this morning. Oh, and can you make it out to ‘Lizette’, with a Z, please?”

“Of course. That’s a very cool costume, Lizette with a Z.”

“I made it myself! It’s Michelle from Doherty’s Revenge, have you seen it? The one with the zombie gym teacher?”

“Oh? Haven’t heard of it, do you think I should watch it?”

“You have to, it’s so good! I used to think it was actually really scary but now I just think it’s funny. Me and Edmund watch a lot of like, retro movies with dad, we even watched the really old Llama Man movies once. I’m gonna tell my dad I met you, he won’t believe it!”

“I’m flattered. Thanks for the movie recommendation, I’ll make sure to check it out.” I hand her the autograph before waving goodbye to Edmund who mouths a silent thank you.

Retro.

I know everything seems ancient to a teenager, but the word tastes like dusty VHS tapes, like lava lamps and shag carpets, like mid-century kitchens. This is my demographic, I suppose, nostalgic dads and their excitable kids.

Julia is not in the panel crowd either, but I guess that would have been too much to hope for. I would probably have found her presence too distracting anyway.

I know one of the other panellists, Mei Zhang, the iconic voice of the Freezer Bunny for over fifteen years. We’ve met briefly at conventions and even on a few gigs, but never really got a chance to speak much.

The third panellist is a young man named Andy Okeke, who seems to be voicing a few Voidcritters as well as a bear-like creature I’ve never heard of. It’s his first time on a panel, but he’s already annoyingly good for his age, and I can imagine him having a pretty impressive career at the speed he’s going.

I answer the same questions I’ve answered a million times before and try to find some sort of comfort in the fact that it’s the last time. As much as I loved my job, it got repetitive after almost a decade. Maybe I should get that number for Sierra’s agent, try to get back on screen. Maybe I’ve grown too complacent, stagnant.

Finally, the questions dry up and the last people leave the room, and just like that, I’m free from my contract. It doesn’t feel like freedom, though, more like a free fall.

“Hey, Romeo, wait up.” Mei stops me by the doors.

“How are you doing? It must be so weird.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’ll do if they ever retire Bunny.”

“You’ll still have others, won’t you?”

“I know, but I’m known for Freezer Bunny, not for… four or five Voidcritters. I can’t even keep track of their names, which is ironic since it’s all they ever say.”

I’m not sure how to respond so I just nod. I’m impatient to get to the cosplay competition, but I don’t want to be rude.

“Mei, it was great seeing you again, but I’m in a bit of a hurry, actually.”

“Sure. Would you – would you want to grab coffee some time, though?”

Shit. Before Julia, I would have gladly followed Mei home tonight, maybe we’d even go on a couple of real dates before things fizzled out as they normally do. But right now, every muscle in my body is telling me that I have to go, to move, to be somewhere else.

“Sorry, I’m, uh. Maybe another time, I don’t…”

The giant poster of my face is judging my lame attempt at stringing together a sentence, and I’m painfully aware that the woman behind us has been sweeping the same spot for a minute now, pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I’m a big girl, Romeo. If you’re not interested, that’s fine.”

“Right. I am sorry, though, it’s not…” I mumble something politely incoherent and more or less flee the room.

Fuck. One year and I’ve completely lost my touch.

I hurry up the stairs, the competition must be just about to end. I can see through the doors before I even reach them, all of the contestants are on stage – and she’s not there.

I stand in front of the doors, frozen, arm still outstretched. This doesn’t make sense, she loves this, she told me about the costume she was planning, she should be here.

There’s no time to dwell on why I so desperately need to see her again, what I would even say to her, the only thing left is fear.

What if something has happened to her? Would I ever know? We’re not together anymore and we have no friends in common, no one who would think of me or assume I’d want to know if she got hurt or sick.

She could be dead. She could be dead and I would never know.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m spiralling but I can’t stop, I feel dizzy. The heat and the lights and the people, everything is too much and I can barely see.

Somehow my feet carry me outside, to the very same bench where we talked for hours on that first night. I try to breathe, deep breaths, but the air is too warm and feels thick.

My hands shake as I log into the anonymous account I made during a moment of weakness after she blocked me, and I pull up her social media in the hopes that she posted something recently, anything that can reassure me that she’s fine.

Relief floods through me when I see the timestamp on her latest updates. San Sequoia Aquarium, just a couple of hours ago. But the relief dissipates quickly as I scroll through the photos.

Nestled between fish and family pictures, there are two selfies with her friend Marten.

I stare at them, suddenly feeling numb.

Her eyes are shining like stars in the lights from the tanks. She’s smiling, and so is he. His arm is around her, possessively, and there’s a hint of triumph in his eyes that I don’t like.

He seems to be carrying her on his back in the other photo, and the thought of her legs wrapped around him awakens an urge to tear him away from her that is almost suffocating.

If they’re not already dating, it’s a matter of time. They would probably have gotten together a long time ago if I hadn’t been there. A petty part of me wonders if he was really being her friend or just biding his time, waiting for me to fumble, but that’s crazy. I barely know the guy. Actually, I don’t really know any of Julia’s friends, I just have a vague idea about their names and who they were to her.

I wasn’t a very good boyfriend, was I?

I told you it was better this way.

I’ve kept reminding myself that I didn’t make a mistake, and here’s proof at last. This was meant to be, they were meant to get together, I just happened to get in the way. He’s been a good friend to her, nice and considerate, while I only brought her chaos and pain.

I was so worried that Julia was wasting my time, but all along, I was the one wasting hers. She deserves better, I know this, but it still feels like I lost her all over again.

I put away the phone and take a deep breath of the scorching air. And then I reach for the tiny, secret corner of my heart where I was nursing my last hope of getting her back and stomp it out.

beginning / previous / next

[gibbysoup]

🌙 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 🐈‍⬛

Chris x reader

“Oh come on it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus”

Chapter 1

Warning: 90s bullying, almost fight, crying

A/n: I don’t own the rights to hocus pocus, I changed a couple things to fit this story

Halloween, a day that y/n truly just never understood. Even when she was a little kid, she thought the idea of putting on a costume and getting candy was a dumb idea, and as a now teenager, she definitely still thought it was dumb.

Moving to a new town wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do for your junior year of high school. You were happy at home, you loved sitting in the sun and jamming to Jimi Hendrix. But that was now all coming to an end as you now had to start wearing a coat in October due to the weather in Salem.

After a shitty day of school, all you wanted to do was take a nap, listen to some music or catch a scary movie on tv. But your parents had different planes for you. Your little sister Dani had been persistent on you taking her treat or treating around the new town. They thought it would be good for her to meet kids her age in the neighborhood. The only problem for you was that your parents would be going to a Halloween party that night, so you were now on trick or treating duty.

———————

“Let’s go, hurry up. The bewitching hour’s about to begin!” Your father yelled up the stairs to you and Dani. She ran down the stairs, eager to show your parents her witch costume. Once your father saw Dani he smiled at her. “That’s very scary, wow!” He then turned to you. “What about you, y/n, what are you supposed to be?” He asked you.

She looked at him. “A little leaguer..” y/n said, dead paned. She hadn’t put too much effort into her costume. It had been a while since she had actually trick or treated. She could tell that her father was just trying to get her a little more excited about the holiday, but she just stood there, frowning in her baseball cap and jacket.

Your mother came in, holding a camera to take a of the three of you to capture the moment. “Say Halloween!” She beamed.

“Halloween!” Dani and her father said, well she just stood there, a slight scowl on her face.

———————-

Y/n was carting Dani around to different houses so she can go trick-or-treating. Every house was decorated to the max. lights, pumpkins, fake spider webs and witches. Dani was clearly enjoying getting candy and going house to house, but y/n just dragged her feet the whole way.

“Lighten’ up, y/n.” Dani told her older sister, annoyed that she was clearly bringing the mood down.

Y/n heard this and rolled her eyes. “Can we go home now?” She requested, but Dani just shook her head.

“Nope.”

Just then y/n spots Jay and Ice and some of their friends harassing the kids passing by for candy. She knew those kids were bad news and she didn’t want Dani caught in the cross fire. And just before y/n had been tormented by the two earlier didn’t mean that Dani should be subjected to it.

“Let’s just go this way.” Y/n said, trying to get Dani to make her way to a different house that she could collect candy at but Dani headed straight for Ice and Jay, ignoring y/n. “Dani!0 she shouted, trying to get the attention of her younger sister, but it was no use.

“Ding ding. Ding ding.” Ice heldup his leg so Dani can’t passed him when she tried to enter the house.

“Stop and pay the toll, kid.” Jay told her.

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice.” Ice said, gesturing to her pillowcase filled with candy.

“Dump out your sack!” Jay shouted at her.

“Drop dead, moron.” Dani spat, trying to make the boys leave her alone.

“Yo, twerp. How’d you like to be hung off that telephone pole?” Ice asked her, a slightly threaten tone in his voice.

“I’d just like to see you try it. Cause it just so happens I’ve got my big sister with me. Y/n!” She said, trying to scare the boys away from her.

Jay and Ice were clearly not impressed or intimidated by this threat. But they especially weren’t scared when they saw y/n walk up.

“Hollywood. Oh no.” Ice said, pretending to be scared of the girl as she approached the two boys and there group of followers. She had earned the nickname Hollywood due to her being from California. Apparently everyone in Salem thinks that just because you live in California means you live in Hollywood.

“So you’re doing a little trick-or-treating?” Jay asked, stepping closer to y/n.

She shook her head. “I’m taking my little sister around.” She answered.

“That’s nice. Whoa, I love the costume. But what are you supposed to be? A New Kid on the Block?” He asked her, his little minions laughing at his joke.

“For your information, shes a little leaguer!” Dani said, not making the situation any better.

“Whoa, little leaguer!” Jay said, He and Ice started to fake play a game of baseball to mock y/n. Dani tried to walk by again, but was unsuccessful.

“Wait a minute. Everyone pays the toll.” Ice reminded her.

“Stuff it, zit face.” Dani sassed back.

“Why you little…” ice said, moving to hit Dani, but y/n quickly stepped in the way, protecting her sister.

“Hey, Ice…” y/n shoved her bag of candy at him. “Here. Pig out. Come on Dani, let’s go.” She said, grabbing her little sisters hand and walked her in the other direction.

“See you later Hollywood…” Ice taunted, waving goodbye to the girls as him and his crew laughed.

—————-

Y/n and Dani walk up the steps to another house for more candy. Dani was still upset about the interaction prior. “You should have punched them.” Dani told y/n.

“They would have killed me.” Y/n said to her. Not only were they bigger than her, but she was also out numbered.

“At least it would have made your reputation at school a little better.” Dani snarked.

Y/n was fed up, she had a bad day, a bad Halloween, and overall just a bad life. “Hey! You just humiliated me in front of half the guys at school! So collect your candy and get out of my life!” She yelled. She didn’t even know what she was saying, she was just letting her anger and humiliation speak. But the look on little Dani’s face just showed heartbreak.

“I wanna go home! Now!” She exclaimed, storming off.

Y/n rushes off after her, finally tracking her down as Dani was now crying into a hey-barrel that was a part of someone’s Halloween decorations.

She looked down at her crying little sister who had her face in her hands as she weeped. Y/n knew this whole move was non of her fault, so she shouldn’t even be taking this anger and frustration out on her. She sat down next to her.

“Dani, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate this place. I miss all my friends. I wanna go home.” Y/n confessed. “It’s just been hard..”

Dani looked up at y/n, tears streaming down her face. “Well this is your home now, so get used to it.” Dani said, sniffing and wiping her nose.

Y/n sighed, she knew that Dani was right. She needed to except that Salem was there home now and they were stuck here, well she was stuck here until she graduated and went off to collage.“Yeah. Give me one more chance?” She asked her little sister, hoping she could be forgiven.

“Why should I?” Dani gave her a skeptical look.

“Cause I’m your big sister.” She said, causing Dani to laugh, then reach up and hug her older sister. Y/n wrapped her arms around Dani, holding her in a tight embrace before looking up at the sky. “Whoa, did check that out.” She pointed out to Dani to look up and see.

“What?” Dani questioned, her curiosity peaked.

“Something just flew across the moon.” Y/n said.

Dani looks up and y/n jumps at her and scares her a bit. They both laugh. It was a sweet moment being shared by two sisters.

“Let’s go, jerk face.” Dani giggling. Y/n didn’t say anything back, instead she just laughed at her childish insult.

They both stood up and turned to look at the house, only it was a beautiful mansion.

“Whoa!” They both said, staring at the large building in amazement

“Check out this house.” Y/n said.

“Ah, rich people. They’ll probably make us drink cider and bob for apples.” Dani said, looking up at her other sister. They both gave a nod and walked into the house.

The entered the Foyer seeing that the door was wide open. “Trick-or-treat?!” They both said, looking around. Dani’s eyes went wide when she spotted a huge cauldron full of candy. “Jackpot!” Dani said, immediately running over to get her share of candy. “They got kind sized candy bars!” Dani said excitedly, holding up a chocolate bar to show her sister.

“Y/n Denison..” a voice said, she looked up and saw none other then Chris sturniolo, a boy from one of her classes that she totally was crushing on. She slightly froze, dropping whatever candy she had in her hand as he made his way down the stairs. She was now starting to wonder how he even remembered her name.

“Chris…hi..” she had said, slightly nervous to now be in his house. She was suddenly worried about how she looked or where her hands were placed.

“Oh, chris huh?” Dani smirked, looking up at y/n.

Y/n looked down at the younger girl and gave her what can only be described as a death glare, hoping it would shut her up from further embarrassing her in front of her crush.

“I thought you weren’t into Halloween.” Chris said making his way down the large staircase, coming to greet the both of the two girls

“I’m not, I’m just taking my little sister, Dani, around.” She said. Y/n wasn’t at all surprise that Chris had remembered what she had said earlier in class that day and about Halloween being made up by the candy companies.

Chris shot y/n and Dani a warm smiling before speaking. “Well that’s nice, my brother used to do that with me and my brothers.” He said.

“I always do it.” Y/n told Chris, acting like the whole thing was her idea, but Dani had to butt in and open her mouth.

“My parents made her.” Dani told Chris. Once again, y/n shot her little sister a death glare, giving her a slight elbow to the shoulder, hoping that would give her the hit to stop talking.

After a moment of silent had passed, Chris spoke. “Do you guys want some cider?” He offered the two girls.

“No.” Dani said flatly, but at the same time, y/n answered. “Sure!”

Chris went over and got two cups of cider. One for him and one for y/n. He came back and handed the other cup to y/n. “Thanks. So, um, how’s the party?” She asked him.

“Boring. It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’ve got candy duty” he said. “Or well, I was supposed to have some help but my bothers seem to have forgotten that there supposed to help me.” He said. He motioned for his brothers to come join him. Two boys who looked identical to Chris walked over. She knew Chris was a triplet, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember there names.

Matt and nick had entered the foyer, dragging their attention away from the party. “This is Nick and Matt.” He said gesturing to each of his brother’s respectively. “This is y/n, and her sister Dani. They just moved here for California.” He explained, then looking back at you.

“Wait there’s three of you?” Dani questioned, looking back and fourth at the three teenagers.

“Yeah Dani, that’s kinda the whole point of triplets.” She pointed out to her.

Dani looked up at y/n. “Duh…I know what triplets are.” She said, rolling her eyes. The three boys laughed at the interaction, knowing the sibling back and fourth all too well.

“By the way, Dani, I love your costume, I’m like, really into witches..” Nick said, complimenting Dani on her purple witch costume.

Dani seemed to light up at the compliment. “Thank you, and so am I. We just learned about those sisters in school.” Dani said, clearly very into her conversation with Nick, he even leaned down a bit to get to her level.

“Oh, you mean the Sanderson sisters?” Matt asked, inserting himself into the conversation. “We know all about them, our Mom used to run the museum.” He told her.

Dani’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of a museum. “here’s a museum about ‘em?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah, but they shut it down because a lot of spooky things happened there.” Nick said, obviously trying to spook her out a bit.

Just then an idea popped into y/ns head. “Well, why don’t we go to this old Sanderson house?” She suggested.

At the mention of this, Dani shakes her head no. Chris and his brothers look at y/n, trying to figure out if she was being for real or just messing around. “Well come on, make a believer out of me.” She challenged, knowing it was pretty much just an excuse to maybe spend some more time with Chris.

The brothers shared a couple looks, before finally speaking again, and it was Chris. “Okay, let us go change first.” Chris said. “They won’t miss me, trust me.” He said to the two before going upstairs with his brothers.

Once they were out of ear shot, Dani turned to y/n and looked up at her.“y/n, I’m not going up there. My friends at school told me all about that place. It’s weird.” She protested.

Y/n crouched down and got to her sisters level. “Dani, this is the boy of my dreams. He’s like the cutest guy at school.” She tried to explain.

“So, have him take you to the movies like a normal person.” She pleaded, but it was no use.

Y/n sighed. “Dani..Look, just do this one thing for me and I’ll do anything you say. Please? Please?!” She begged her sister. “I’m asking you this as your only sister..”

Dani thought for a moment. “Okay, okay. Next year we go trick-or-treating as Wendy and tinkerbell, with the wings, or it’s no deal.” She offered.

Y/n sighed once more, before finally giving in and compromising with her sister. “Okay, okay, deal!” She said.

A/n: omg…the support for this story is already insane…thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @keerahsturn @fratbrochrisgf @izzykinzz678 @st7rnioioss @jamiesturniolo @v33angel @kaisturni @valkatriee @sturnschrissy

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz [ TEASER ]

FULL FIC

Y/n's stale love life gets a catalyst at the start of the autumn semester when two weeks earlier; her younger brother got egged on by his friend to post the box of secret love letters she has collected during 12 years. how does she handle the end of summer and five leaked love letters?

PAIRING ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

GENRE, WARNINGS fluff, university!au, humor, to all the boys i loved before!au, 2000s and 2010s au, summer!au, sprinkle of angst, sporty people, nerdy people, parties, friends2lovers, childhood friends, bickering, slice of life, coming of age ( more info in full fic ! )

RELEASE DATE end of may / beginning of june

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT 10 - 17 k

TEASER WORD COUNT : about 500

this will be my fic for the @deoboyznet love letter collective event! ( idk if i should use the dbn tag since it’s just a teaser ) i've wanted to write a "to all the boys..." fic for so long and i'm finally doing it! if someone wants to be tagged for the full fic lmk!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

THERE'S A THING YOU DO–OR SHE DOES AT LEAST–WHEN SOMETHING'S BEEN OCCUPYING YOUR MIND.

Dad told her once after an argument with a best friend to take a paper and a pen; then, let it out. Fold the paper, lay it in a box, and shelter under your bed. 

It’s inherently the same concept as a diary she suppose. Though, somewhat more effective. 

Nonetheless, from that first letter a series of what one can only describe as an uncontrolled teenage angst ensemble of love letters emerged over the course of twelve years.

...

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who she had a trivial crush on in middle school (together with everyone else). In all honesty she didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling her one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts her still in uni as her roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, her childhood friend, the boy next door, her first love? He has many titles she realize. He lived in an impressive house north from hers, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily for her; Y/n has never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, Y/n has never confessed the secret ways she looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; she never got his last name–from summer camp who she even (jokingly) got married to. Her first summer at thirteen, away from her parents, with kids her age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken right out of a movie, and she fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center (bad and good…mostly bad tbh). They got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and their coordination couldn’t take them ten meters. But she remembers every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night they snuck out of their cabin’s to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, she swore her heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy she had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by her own. Scuba Steve (long story) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like she saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as her (if not more) and they would visit each other just to cuddle with them. Her teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and they together named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus (source: Eric). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of her mother’s friend. He teached her calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, she didn’t learn much from him that year because all she did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded her endearingly when she didn’t listen (which was the majority of the time). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, her mother might have approved if they got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left her with a newfound thing for glasses (still wearing cute polos in uni). 

And that's all five. She sometimes wonders if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back to her. 

to be continued

© littleroaes, written and all

[beesmygod]

What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

[theshippirate22]

so i started a fic for this a while ago and it got lost in my wips but then @henderdads posted this and i got right back on my bullshit to finish it! also on ao3 tw: panic attack

November 1985-

Steve had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel of the Beemer while he stared out at the theater ahead of him.

Just looking at it, just thinking about what he was about to do, made his skin crawl. He felt guilty and dirty and miserable, but he didn’t really have any other choice. 

Okay, that was a lie. There were definitely a million other things he could be doing. He really needed to clean his room, he was falling desperately behind on movies Robin said he needed to see, and he was supposed to be writing an essay to help him get into Ohio State. There were tapes to be listened to, people to check on, God, his car needed an oil change.

But here he was, anyway, neglecting all of it. 

The dashboard clock switched to 11:35 and his stomach burned. He’d gotten himself so freaked out, he was going to throw up in the gutter and drive home before anything even happened. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of what waited for him. The dark, cold, empty house, his relentless nightmares, and his sleepless night.

11:40. His hands were getting cold against the wheel, but he still didn’t will himself into the warm oasis that was the theater. Not yet. He still had time. 

He felt like an addict, lying to his friends and family before relapsing back into heroin. He knew it wasn’t like that, that if they knew, all he’d get was funny looks and maybe a snarky comment directed at his intelligence (or lack thereof), but that didn’t make it any better. He still hated himself. 

He’d promised to give this up a long time ago, to abandon the lifestyle entirely. Actually, he had turned into something of a doormat at this point- always driving the kids places and covering any of Robin’s shifts when she bailed and offering his house and money up to whoever took advantage of it- because anything he did that didn’t help somebody else felt selfish. He wasn’t allowed to be selfish anymore. He had to repent for when he was selfish.

11:45. Steve groaned softly and got out of the car, attacked by the cold air as it seemed to soak through his sweatshirt. 

Way to put the guilt into guilty pleasure, moron, he thought to himself, pushing through the doors to the theater. His inner monologue was starting to sound more and more condescending. 

The teenager at the counter glared up at him through her eyelashes, popping a bubble with her gum decisively, clearly annoyed to be running midnight showings at a shitty theater. He slid a five-dollar bill across the counter to her and took a deep breath before forcing out the words.

“Rocky IV, please.”

She looked at him like he was stupid, and he was about ready to run back to his car and pretend none of this had ever happened. This was just another stupid nightmare to haunt him while he tried to sleep. 

She handed him a ticket, the bright red DRAGO VS. BALBOA staring up at him-mocking him really- and passed over his change without saying anything at all. 

Okay, that was the hard part. That was the part that made him interact with someone, a live actual person, made him admit his sin out loud, make it real and out there.

As soon as the ticket was in his hand and he was walking to the specified theater, he could breathe again. The guilt still writhed heavily in his stomach, but he could fight down the nausea enough to function. Half his brain, the half that had been in control for a good while now, was screaming at him that this was wrong, he was sick and twisted for wanting this, while the other half kept reminding him softly that it was just a movie. No one had to know about it. It would help him tonight- maybe he could get some sleep when he got home- and then it could disappear forever, and he would never think of it again. 

It’s just a movie. 

Steve was ten when the original came out. His dad had paid for him and Tommy H. to go one Saturday and God, they loved it. They’d gotten in a playfight in the parking lot waiting for Tommy’s mom to pick them up, mimicking the final match between Rocky and Apollo (Steve was Apollo every time they played; Tommy refused to be anything less than the hero, even if technically he was the loser) and Tommy had accidentally knocked him in the face and made his nose bleed. That might’ve been one of the best days of Steve’s childhood if he thought about it.

Three years later, he and Tommy went back and saw Rocky II the first night it was out, and watching Rocky win lit something in Steve on fire, and he convinced himself he could do anything, like how Rocky could still get up even when Apollo had beat him to shit. 

Steve got into his first fistfight that summer. He lost, because he had never actually fought before, and his punches were loose and messy, but he didn’t even care, staring up at Jack Donahue through a black eye, because Rocky lost his first fight against Apollo, but he won the second, so next time Steve would win. 

He went to Rocky III on a date in 1982 (still waiting to win that second fight, although now it was really Fight 8 or 9 because he’d gotten his ass kicked a good number of times since Jack Donahue). The girl he was with got bored halfway through the movie, climbed into his lap and convinced him to make out instead, but he kept getting distracted by Clubber Lang, and Apollo’s training advice, and Rocky and Andrian’s big house and their happy family, glancing over her shoulder absently as she trailed her mouth up his neck. There wasn’t a second date with her. He didn’t even remember her name. 

He remembered what color dress Adrian wore to the final fight, though. 

He hadn’t watched any of them since September of ‘84 when he’d rented all of them and binge-watched them one night, mostly to remind himself that Billy Hargrove was just a watered-down Clubber Lang who came to steal his title and insult his (nonexistent) wife and mess up his life. Rocky beat Clubber Lang. Steve would beat Billy.

Within the next few weeks, however, Billy ended up on the ever-growing list of people who had whipped Steve, his Heavyweight-Champion-Of-the-World belt that manifested itself as King Steve of Hawkins High was stripped from him, and he’d started his proverbial pilgrimage to salvation. 

He didn’t get to like Rocky anymore. King Steve liked Rocky. Just Steve didn’t have any reason for that luxury. Rocky was athletic, and mindless, and masculine, everything that everyone hated about King Steve, so Just Steve didn’t get it anymore. 

It’s just a fucking movie. He reminded himself. No one has to know.

They had unfinished business anyway, Rocky and him. Maybe it was fate, or some shit that IV should come out like five months after Steve did get his first win against the Russian soldier.

Hey, old friend. I did it. I won. I got back up. I won. 

We won, Rocky. 

Steve hid in the back of the theater, in the dark, where no one would recognize him. There were only maybe a dozen other people in there anyway, but in the dark, he could relax. 

He almost felt safe, even, when the opening montage started. There was something so familiar about it, like returning to the house you lived in as a child, but the same sort of estrangement from time. Watching Rocky best Clubber again, knowing Rocky would win, was such a comfortable thing. God, these movies were so good. 

He almost didn’t feel like such an asshole anymore. 

Rocky was a dad now, you know. Had been since the second one technically, but only now was the kid old enough to have a personality. Watching him with his son was maybe when the six-nugget thing really solidified for Steve. He wanted that, he wanted the house and the kid and sparring with Apollo-the friend who knew- and Adrian. 

God, he wanted someone to love him the way Adrian loved.

She was always just there, in the very best sort of way. As if at any moment, Rocky could look over and she would be there, grinning at him, helping him back up, fixing things. And she would shake her head and laugh at her moronic boxer husband and still sing with him when he started up out of tune and flush when he flirted with her. 

The reminder of the slump in Steve’s love life manifested itself as a sort of sad aching in his stomach. He redirected his attention out of his thoughts and back to the movie. 

The plot was a little mindless; he’d admit it. It was basically the same premise as the last one: Some Big-Bad-Boxer popping up out of nowhere to whip Rocky’s ass just enough in the first half to build a vague sense of suspense as to whether he was going to win the final fight or not, but the only difference now was that he was sparring against Communism or something as a metaphor for the mini-Red Scare happening. 

Steve didn’t mind. He knew enough Russians to be pretty psyched about Stallone wailing on them for a few hours. 

It’s Apollo Creed, however, who first takes his place across the ring from Ivan Drago. Steve was fine. He was well aware of the fact that whatever happened during this fight would mean absolutely nothing in comparison to whatever happens at the end, except maybe deciding the intensity of the training montage (That was the other thing; Survivor was doing a bunch of the music, how could Steve miss out on that?)

Apollo put on a show, with dancers and lights and that stupid flag robe he’d had in the first one, so this would be good. Mediocre writing, good entertainment. 

“You will lose,” Drago growled. 

They danced around each other in the ring. Apollo threw a good number of jabs in the beginning. It felt good. Steve almost smiled. 

But something happened when Drago started fighting back. Apollo stumbled against the ropes, dripping sweat; Rocky yelled something. Steve missed it- he could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, suddenly a little too aware of his clothes and where they clung to him. 

Drago kept fighting. He punched and punched, each one landing hard and solid against Apollo, against flesh, in a rapid thunk, thunk, thunk. 

Steve’s hands started to shake. 

Apollo leaned back against the corner post as the bell rings-end of the first round- looking dazed and far away. 

Rocky begged. “I gotta stop you. This fight’s finished.”

Apollo’s answer thudded through Steve’s head. “Promise you won’t stop this fight. You don’t stop this fight.”

Bell. Second round. Apollo looked stoned, tripping over his own feet as he tried to dance. Steve knew the feeling. Then Drago had him in a corner and it won’t stop, fists pounding against him again and again. Sweat flew off Apollo’s head and fell against the mat like rain. He doesn’t go down. 

There was so much blood. Steve couldn’t breathe. He felt the adrenaline in his sweaty, trembling hands, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t movie excitement, it felt real. 

Apollo fell back against the ropes, their support being his only saving grace. His wife screamed from the audience “Stop the fight!” but they won’t, the Russian won’t stop, the fight is still going. 

Steve must have started hallucinating. For a moment, all he could hear was his own breath, exhausted and wheezy with pain. 

“Scoops... I... I work... Scoops...”

Robin is screaming, sobbing, wailing, voice pounding through his aching head. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

A final blow to the jaw. Apollo swung backwards toward the horrified faces of the audience, then lunged forward in depletion. There was blood in his teeth and on his face and staining the white rags and his eye was swollen shut. And the Russian’s wife smiled. 

The doctor grinned, white teeth glimmering against the dark beard. He demands something in Russian, and Steve doesn’t understand, but he wants to, he wants to make it go away. 

The soldier leans in a final time, delivering a solid blow to his temple. 

Steve’s sight fizzles in and out like a kaleidoscope as he falls.

His head hits the concrete floor, and he feels it, the burning pain at the back of his head, seeping up through his brain until his sight goes black. 

Apollo was on the floor. His body seized with fatigue and Rocky grabbed him, cradling him in his lap, and he was screaming, crying out for something, and the Russian was still talking but all that gets through to Steve is the grating accent and the fear. 

“What did you do to him?!” Robin screams, pulling his weak body towards her with bound hands. “Steve, wake up! Steve, oh my God, wake up, Steve!”

It felt like someone had shoved cotton in his ears. He couldn’t hear anything but his own pulse and his own breath, but somehow, Drago’s last couple words made it through.

“If he dies, he dies.” 

Steve got to his feet before he realized he was doing it. His legs were moving, and he wasn’t telling them where to go, but they knew somehow. All he was aware of was the nausea sweeping through him like a tidal wave and the trembling, paranoid fear taking over his entire body. 

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops Ahoy. The ice cream place.”

Thud. His face burned. 

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops!”

His head flew to the side, pulling something in his neck and shooting white-hot pain down his spine. 

“Hit him again.”

Steve collapsed against the bathroom floor. He didn’t even have it in him to make it to a stall and lock himself in; he just melted there against the wall. 

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his back, drenching him. He couldn’t breathe; his sweatshirt was too tight around his throat and his jeans were touching too much of his thighs and he couldn’t get his chest to move. 

Every muscle in his body was too tight to move. Maybe he was having a seizure or a heart attack, but it didn’t even matter, because his head ached around a phantom black eye and a scar on his temple that had taken much too long to heal. His eyes felt massive and dry, like if he didn’t get air soon, they were going to pop out of his head. 

He knew he needed to breathe, get the air in and out in a timely manner, but every time he tried to open his mouth, he would just wheeze out “Scoops,” or “Robin!” 

The Russians killed Apollo. He was laying on the floor next to him and Robin, in those stupid Americano shorts that were the same color as Steve’s uniform, and Steve knows they’re coming for him next. He played Apollo with Tommy; he is Apollo and he’s about to receive the same fate. 

He watched the door to the bathroom in terror like Dolph Lundgren was going to storm through at any moment to try and fight him next. Steve couldn’t win. He wouldn’t win. Not against a Russian, not against Drago. 

They were going to kill him. Drago was coming, and as soon as he found him, he was going to beat him to death just like Apollo. 

Maybe Steve was sobbing. That would explain the burning in his throat and the noise making his head throb. He couldn’t stop it though; he couldn’t seem to control anything except to pull his knees to his chest and curl in on himself to try and protect his head and his ribs. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, suffocating, shaking, anxious hands tearing through the hair at the back of his head, partially to cover his neck, partially to pull at the roots of his hair until he felt something other than fear. Eventually, he stopped crying, the tears were gone, but he still couldn’t breathe, and his whole face felt clogged up with whatever was left of his sobs. 

That only made him panic more, realizing he wasn’t getting any air, and his hands moved down his neck to claw away at his throat and open something up. His nails were dull and harsh, tearing up the skin as he pawed at his Adam’s apple, hyperventilating so loudly, it filled up all his senses so that was all he could hear for a good long while.

“Hey... You alright?” 

The voice felt far away and soft like it was spoken by someone who had never experienced the harshness of sensation. God? Steve thought stupidly, carefully acknowledging that to be the first thought he’d had in a long while that wasn’t about his own demise via Russian cruelty. 

“Harrington. Can you hear me?”

Steve forced his head up, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, glancing skittishly from wall to wall, trying to remember where he was. 

“Right here. You’re okay. Try and breathe for me, Harrington.”

Steve’s shallow breaths continued, hands trailing back up to pull his hair again. He didn’t get there, however, because warm hands clamped softly around his wrists and pulled them away. “Careful. Don’t hurt yourself, honey.”

Steve could see his hands, when he moved his fingers a little bit so he could comprehend that they were his, then followed up the foreign hands- now gripping higher up on his forearm to keep him from falling backward- along pale arms and black sleeves, then up along the corner of a tattoo peeking from underneath the collar of the shirt. Higher up, face-to-face with him, although he hadn’t actually seen it until now, was a tangle of messy curly hair and choppy bangs framing the darkest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“Adrian?” He choked out. Relief surged through him at the recognition, despite the nagging at the back of his mind that that actually couldn’t be Adrian, because Adrian was here with him, and she was gonna take care of him and fix things like she did for Rocky. “Adrian...”

“Sure.” She mumbled. “Deep breaths, Harrington. Like you’re swimming.” She took a few exaggerated deep breaths for him to mirror, and he nodded weakly, trying to force his lungs to expand entirely. 

For a few seconds-or minutes; time really had no meaning for Steve anymore- this went on, Adrian taking one breath and Steve copying until he could do it on his own. She loosened her grip on his arms, eventually dropping them completely. “There you go. Feeling okay?”

Steve hesitated while he assessed. His scalp burned from tugging on his hair, and he was sure he’d scratched his throat up pretty bad, but his hands weren’t shaking nearly as much as they had been a minute ago, and he could unclench his jaw finally- he hadn’t realized it had been so tight; the tension was probably the root cause of the headache- so yeah, he decided. “Better.”

“You ever had a panic attack before?”

He shook his head, choosing not to speak again because of the pathetic gravelly sound of his voice and blinking quickly to fight off the next wave of tears- exhausted ones this time.

“Pretty scary, huh? But it’s okay, it’s not forever. It always goes away. You’re safe, okay?”

He nodded weakly, gazing off over her shoulder to be sure the Russians weren’t coming. God, he was going to have to protect her if Drago came. He could fight, he could protect her...

“You aren’t quite back, are you, Harrington?”

Steve startled, darting his glance back toward her. “My...” He choked out, frustrated that his voice didn’t sound right yet; still too wet and broken to be his own. “My name is Steve.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are, Steve. I’m glad you know.” She brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Bathroom,” Steve mumbled. “Starcourt.”

“Starcourt? Like the mall? No, it burned down months ago. Remember?”

Steve swallowed hard, staring at the tile. It wasn’t like Starcourt’s- instead of red, green, and orange, this was green, blue, and black. It wasn’t Starcourt. Starcourt was over. Gone. He took a deep breath. “ShowTimez. Theater.”

“Hey, there you go.” She shifted her knees out from under her- it was painful to kneel for so long- and settled cross-legged across from him. “Do you... do you know who I am?”

“Adrian,” Steve whispered quickly. 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, almost disappearing under dark bangs. “Like from the movie? Gee, thanks, Harrington, you know how to woo a guy.” She tore her sight away, almost blushing, and continued self-consciously. “Not quite. You... you probably don’t know who I am. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Steve felt bad for getting it wrong. And if it wasn’t Adrian... who cared enough to be so gentle with him? Panic started to fill up inside him again. Who had caught him? Who knew he was here, worse, who had seen him crying? He looked back up, trying to reassess, figure out the right answer. 

Upon better inspection, it very much wasn’t Adrian. Besides the hair and the eyes, they didn’t look at all similar. Actually, it was a man, which should’ve been his first assumption given that he was on the floor of the men’s bathroom, but he also forgot his own name for a second there, so he would let it go. He had thick, steel rings that Steve couldn’t coherently recognize into any shapes yet, and tattoos on his arms that Steve hadn’t noticed in his first sweep either. But the face was familiar. Tommy had hated him, loved to pick on him in high school. Maybe Steve had had gym with him junior year. But really, Steve knew him because he was always in the background of whatever place he was driving Dustin to. The party joined Hellfire in September; Steve had been seeing this guy vaguely for months. The name was slow coming to him- everything felt lagged- but eventually, he managed, “Munson. Eddie.”

He grinned. “Yeah! See, I knew I wasn’t that forgettable. Go ahead and call me Talia Shire though, that’s the best name I’ve been called in a while.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. Maybe it wasn’t Adrian, who he knew he could trust- She's not real, moron, he reminded quickly- but Eddie was harmless. Dustin talked about the guy so much, it was like Steve already knew him anyway. 

God, Dustin. What if Eddie told Hellfire and the kids found out he’d been here, and worse, that he’d freaked out? He didn’t know if he could handle it if the kids ever found out he wasn’t as strong as he pretended.

“You can’t tell Dustin.” Steve blurted out. 

“What?”

“He can’t know I was here, that I was...” He struggled for the words.

Eddie nodded softly. “Yeah. Okay. I won’t tell him.” He lowered his voice as he said it like it was already a secret. “What the little shit doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Steve nodded haphazardly to communicate that he agreed, but he just felt like he looked stupid.

“Hey, uh, do me a favor, and don’t tell the kids you saw me here, either, actually.” Eddie continued. “It goes against my code and everything to watch...” He trailed off, suddenly aware of his audience and needing to watch himself.

“Sports movies.” Steve finished. Eddie grimaced, so he added, “Yeah, no, I get it.”

Eddie nodded, forcing a smile, but it was still tainted with guilt like he’d said something wrong.

Steve was quick to stifle the awkwardness. “How come Rocky makes the cut then?”

“Oh, I don’t really know.” His shoulders relaxed a little and he admitted, “I rented the first one on accident. I was looking for Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the tape said Rocky and I’m a fucking moron, and thought they were the same thing because whoever labeled the tape didn’t bother to write the whole thing, and then I’d already paid for it so I just... watched it and... kinda got sucked in. I love a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.”

Steve grinned. “Me too! I only cared about the boxing when I was younger, but now...”

Eddie tipped his head and stared at him bewilderedly. 

“What?” 

Eddie shook his head dismissively, tentative smile pulling at the side of his mouth, mumbling, “Never would’ve guessed.”

Steve felt horribly seen, like he’d said too much, flush creeping up his face, and he reached up to pull on the hair at the back of his neck again. But Eddie just laughed softly and pushed himself over next to Steve, leaning back against the wall and brushing his shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay to drive home?”

He nodded, starting to shift to his numb, tingly feet, stumbling and having to prop himself on the wall. “Yeah, I should probably go.”

“Hey.” Eddie grabbed his wrist, softly; he could pull away if he really wanted to. “Calm down, give it a minute. You just started breathing again, let’s make sure you’re good to go.”

So Steve didn’t pull away. He slumped back against the tile, legs sprawled forward to get the blood flowing again. 

“Does your head hurt?” 

Steve glanced over. “What?”

“Just... uh,” He shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to find a different way to address what he was thinking of. “You were pulling your hair. I wondered if maybe you... you know, what? It doesn’t matter.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little white bottle of Advil. “If you want some.”

“Why do you have that?” Steve chuckled softly, taking it from him thankfully. “I mean, I’ve heard your drug-dealer reputation; I just didn’t realize this is what they meant.”

“Har har.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s for Sinclair actually. He’s been-”

“Bitching about his ankle? Yeah, I keep telling him I’ll wrap it for him but he’s-”

“Being a shithead about the whole thing. He’s gonna drive me to do something drastic.”

“Seriously!” Steve cried. “I’ll hold him down, you can punch.”

Eddie laughed, a real, actual laugh and Steve thought he was going to have no choice but to implode. He was so pretty; he understood the Adrian-mistaking suddenly. 

Steve wanted to say something, wanted to make him laugh like that again, but before he could grasp anything, the door shoved open and shattered their perfect privacy. 

It was the bubblegum girl from the front desk. She popped the wad of pink obnoxiously, huffing out “Dude, the movie’s been over for like twenty minutes. We’re closing.”

Steve and Eddie shared a conspiratorial Ah-shit-we’re-in-trouble look, before getting to their feet. Steve was still holding the Advil bottle, somewhat uselessly because he’d forgotten he had it. He popped it open and swallowed a few, handing it back to Eddie who banished it back to his pocket.

Bubblegum Girl stared them down the whole way out into the lobby, the pair of them giggling as they went, until eventually they stepped into the cold darkness outside the theater, and the spell was broken. Here they were again, in real life, where things were not so great as that bathroom floor or the world within Rocky.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked softly like he was afraid something had changed the second they’d passed through the doors.

Steve nodded vaguely. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

He shot him a peculiar look and turned off towards where he was inevitably parked, calling out, “Stay safe, Harrington.”

Steve laughed out loud.

March 1986-

Steve hovered over Eddie, who was sitting on Steve’s bathroom counter with his legs over the side, cleaning up the blood on his face with antiseptic wipes Nancy had pulled out of nowhere. His stitches were soft and pliable still, and Steve hated how bulky and thick his fingers were for a moment because if they were small and slim it would force him to be gentler.

Eddie cried out as he brushed over the top of the gash and Steve cringed, yanking his hands back softly to avoid hurting him anymore. 

“Sorry,” Steve murmured. 

He was afraid to reach back to finish the job- Eddie was in enough pain as it was- so he stood there, watching him for any more signs of discomfort.

Eddie lifted his head languidly, glancing at the slash of bright red on Steve’s forehead, the angry crimson chain around his neck. He tentatively traced his fingertips along his skin, not along the scab, but just below it, and Steve hummed out a low sound in relief. 

“You alright there, Balboa?”

It came out a little more slurred than he would’ve liked, but he was on a good deal of narcotics for God’s sake, and it must’ve delivered itself well enough because Steve offered him a small smile. 

“Feel like a large wound,” he offered in his best Stallone accent.

Eddie laughed, and it hurt like a mother on his broken ribs and the stitches in his side, so it quickly delved into a whine, and Steve instantly reached out even if there was nothing he could do. 

He caught his hand, pulled it into his lap, just to hold it there. Steve didn’t say anything.

“Steve.”

“Hmm...”

Eddie let go. Took Steve’s face carefully in his hands, even though the stretch sent pain shooting through his torso. “I understand now. Everything. Robin told me about the Russians.”

Steve swallowed thickly, head dipping almost in shame, as if it was too much to meet Eddie’s eyes and risk finding his pity there.

Eddie just tipped his head back up gently. “If I had known... I... I wouldn’t have let you go home alone that night. That’s... that’s not what Adrian does.”

Steve tipped his head just a little like he didn’t quite understand the sentiment.

Eddie swallowed. “I’m gonna kiss you now. You ain’t gotta kiss me back.”

He properly grinned this time, leaning in to meet him halfway, hands placed carefully on Eddie’s knees as he pulled in his face. 

And he did kiss back. What can he say? He loves a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.

[sabrinasopposite]

when peter met nellie..

chapter 1: the moment i met you, i thought i‘ll jump of a cliff. 

I always told myself that I would get married in a castle with my prince charming or that my first kiss would be from a superhero. But those were just the thoughts of a little girl who dreamed of things far beyond her reach.

I used to think love was easy—easy to find, easy to feel, easy to hold onto. But when I hit my teenage years, my perspective twisted.

Books never mentioned that boys could be complete douchebags. They never warned me that dating apps existed, where you could swipe left or right like people were disposable. They never said that love wasn’t always like the movies.

I had gone on a few dates, had a few relationships, but they never went anywhere—at least, nowhere good. And yet, I remained hopeful, because I loved love.

I loved the idea that somewhere out there, someone was waiting—just for me.

And looking back, I should have known that Peter Parker would be the bane of my existence. Or, as some might call it, fate. Maybe even the one who waited.

But at fifteen, you don’t always see the obvious.

Before I truly met Peter, I was an intern at Oscorp Industries—a big deal for a high school sophomore. Even now, I still don’t know how I landed the opportunity, but maybe it was meant to happen. Science was my life. While other kids my age were busy worrying about prom dates and football games, I was spending my weekends analyzing DNA sequences and studying biochemical reactions.

My goal was to work at Oscorp full-time one day—maybe even lead my own research project. I was serious about it. Maybe too serious sometimes.

Which is why I hated field trip days.

That afternoon, a group of students from Midtown High was scheduled to visit, meaning my workspace would be invaded by a bunch of students who probably didn’t care about what we were doing here. Most of them were probably just here for extra credit or to get out of a test, and I had little patience for any of it.

I had been assigned to help lead the tour alongside Dr. Connors—answering questions and making sure no one touched anything they weren’t supposed to. It wasn’t exciting, but it was better than sitting in a classroom. That was until I heard a name that made me inwardly groan.

Peter Parker.

I didn’t go to Midtown, but I knew that name. Everyone in the science circuit did.

And not just because he was a so-called genius, but because my neighbor, Liz Allan, once had a thing with him. I had heard all about how he broke her heart—some drama about prom night, though I never asked for details.

He was the kind of person people couldn’t stop talking about—a prodigy, a teenage genius, someone whose mind was years beyond his age. My age. He won every science fair, had published academic papers, and was practically the golden boy of Midtown High’s academic program.

But, apparently, he was also a heartbreaker.

I never had a problem with intelligence. And I wasn’t jealous. But what I had heard—what I was about to experience firsthand—was that Peter Parker knew he was smart. And worse, he thought he was the smartest person in any room.

The moment he stepped into the lab, I braced myself.

“Okay, okay, this is cool,” Peter said, glancing around wide-eyed. His friend, Ned Leeds—a slightly nervous-looking guy in a hoodie—nudged him.

“I thought you already knew everything, dude.”

Peter grinned. “I mean, I do, but I like to be impressed sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything.

It was true what everyone said about him. But they never mentioned how weirdly attractive he was—for a nerd.

Peter wasn’t scrawny; he was tall and built. His chestnut-colored eyes were bright, and his curly, chocolate-brown hair shone under the cold fluorescent lights. He wasn’t ugly, that was for sure. But his personality? That was far from the perfect description of every nerd, girls swooned over in books and movies.

Dr. Connors began the tour, explaining some of the research we were doing, and I did my part, demonstrating some of the simpler experiments we used for controlled studies. It was going fine—until Peter opened his mouth.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head as he watched me set up a reaction, “this would work a lot faster if you adjusted the temperature by a couple of degrees.”

I glanced at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re working with an enzyme reaction, right? The activation energy threshold is too low. If you increase the heat just slightly, you’ll see the reaction speed up without denaturing the protein.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I know how enzymes work.”

Peter shrugged. “Just saying. You don’t have to do it the slow way.”

I forced a smile, keeping my voice even. “This is a controlled experiment. We’re demonstrating fundamental principles, not trying to rush a result.”

Ned elbowed him. “Dude, let her do her job.”

Peter held up his hands, grinning. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

I could feel my face heating up—not with embarrassment, but with frustration. I knew my position, knew I could do anything, including kicking him out of the lab. And after all these years, I still wonder—what if I had?

Dr. Connors cleared his throat. “Parker, if you’d like to conduct your own experiments, I’m sure Oscorp will be happy to accept your internship application next year.”

Peter’s smirk faltered. “Uh, right. Sorry.”

He straightened up, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets, but I could feel his presence still lingering. As if he wanted to get under my skin.

I turned back to my work, determined to ignore him. But, of course, he wasn’t done.

“So,” Peter said after a few minutes, “what school do you go to?”

“Not Midtown,” I replied flatly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I got that. You don’t exactly seem thrilled to see us.”

“I’m thrilled to be working,” I said. “Not babysitting.”

Ned let out a low whistle. “Oof. Burn.”

Peter, to my surprise, laughed. “Okay, okay, I deserved that. But seriously, where do you go?”

“Standard High.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Fancy.”

Funny story—Standard High and Midtown High were kind of rivals in the Academic Decathlon competition. I used to be on the team, but I left when I got my internship at Oscorp.

For a second, I thought he might actually drop it. But then—

“So, do you even like it here?” he asked, motioning around the lab.

I stared at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, you’re obviously smart. But do you actually like doing this stuff, or are you just trying to impress your teachers?”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t have to impress anyone. Unlike you.”

Ned sucked in a breath. “Oh, man, she’s got you figured out.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, but instead of looking offended, he looked… amused. Like he had just found a new puzzle to solve. I hated that look. I barely knew him, only his name and stupid face already.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “this was fun.” His chestnut-brown eyes were still locked on mine, a soft, amused glint in them. His gaze flickered to my name tag, and for a moment, I could have sworn he remembered my name, forever.

“For you, maybe,” I muttered.

As the tour wrapped up, I thought that would be the last time I saw Peter Parker. He was just some obnoxious kid from another school, someone I’d never have to deal with again.

But as he walked out of the lab, he glanced back at me, grinning. “See you around, intern.”

I didn’t know it then, but he was right.

I would see Peter Parker around.

More than I ever wanted to.

🎞️ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @newnewtheicon @angelsgalore @tvdelrey @girldisaster2007 @tinainaction @mariswxt @crazycaoticsimp

moodboard of nellie albright

[peony-pearl]

Thanks to @projecthypocrisy for tagging me!! I'm so excited to be learning about some wonderful ocs!!!

Rules: Answer the following questions in your character's voice

Are you named after anyone?

"I've heard I was named for my father's late sister. I was born around the time she passed. The way Dad spoke about her, I get the feeling he would have rather she lived than I be born," she shrugs. "Can't win them all."

When was the last time you cried?

Her mouth goes taut. She's cried many times. She does her best to not do it in front of others. Her time ensnared in Corneo's ring taught her to calcify her emotions, lest they be used against her or she be punished for them. But she has cried lately.

"I was in Gongaga... the first time since Meteorfall. It's been a few years. Reeve told me the land he died in was now covered with grass and flowers; and he was right. It was just dead land before, and now," her voice breaks ever so slightly. "It's beautiful. It looks the way I felt when I was with him."

Do you have kids?

"Oh no; no no. I can't have them," horrible memories of 'clinic trips' while in Corneo's possession flash through her memory. "And I don't want them. I don't have the fortitude, the patience, the stability. I wasn't a wanted child; I wouldn't put that on another."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"I don't do sarcasm. I'm not good at it. I've never been good at knowing if it's being used. I appreciate straightforwardness and the truth. Or just lie to me and mean it."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"Body language. Or I scout them out if they're wearing symbols or tattoos. I learned that while in Corneo's group. Different ones had different motives and intentions and specialties. Thankfully Shinra likes to display theirs loud and clear so I knew who was working for them very quickly and I could make quick work of them."

What’s your eye colour?

"An olive green. Corneo always told me how ugly a shade it was."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"How about a scary movie with a happy ending? That would be nice. But I don't watch a lot of movies. I get too restless."

Any special talents?

"I'm very handy with materia. I enjoy studying them and casting spells. When I escaped Wall Market, I was given my first materia by someone I was once friends with, and I started working so hard to master it. It was a thunder materia and I'd never once cast a spell in my life. When I finally tapped into that feeling it was so liberating after being imprisoned for so long. I felt strong for the first time in my life.

"I also know some good card games and a few sleight of hand tricks from some of Honeybees when I was stationed at the Inn."

Where were you born?

"In a town called Imerta. It doesn't exist anymore. Any trace of it is smothered under the rubble of Sector 6. It was a trading town, a halfway point for merchants. It was already dying by the time Shinra claimed it for Midgar and promised us part of the money that would come from the Mako harvesting.

"He was never good on promises."

Do you have any pets?

"I have my chocobo, Paprika. My first pet. She's a practical one, since she can be used as transportation. She's a good bird, and I try to spoil her. She's no gold chocobo but she can cross rougher terrain and quicksand, as well as some smaller bodies of water."

What sort of sports do you play?

She laughs. "Sports? No thanks."

How tall are you?

She hums. "Five... four? Five six? I don't know."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"School was suffering by the time I was enrolled; we learned basic history and math and science. I daydreamed all day. The only good part about school was lunch and leaving and getting to chat with my girlfriends. They all left Imerta by the time I was a teenager."

What is your dream job?

"I suppose I'm living it. I'm a materia supplier. I go around, disposing of fiends, mastering materia. When materia is mastered, new materia is 'born'. I sell these new orbs to vendors in different towns. It's good profit. I don't have any ties, I don't have any dependents, save for Paprika. No one to answer to."

She sighs, putting her hand in her pocket to feel his Shinra id badge, now worn and bent over time.

"Just me," she says with a sad smile. "But... it's safer that way, at least."

*****

Thank you so much again for tagging me!!

Consider this an open tag for anyone who wants to do this! I want to find more FF7 ocs!

[navstuffs]

The Pact

Pairing: Demon!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: Living in a time where anything out of the ordinary is considered demoniac, your current dreams about a man, while a disease strikes your village, might put you in danger. 

Warning tags: HORROR FIC (14+), ignorant people, small stalker behavior from Carlos.

Author's Notes: fic 100% based on the end of vvitch movie and on the declaration on the church from Lestat to Louis in "Interview with the Vampire" (amc version). enjoy your reading and happy friday 13th!!

my hallowen's masterlist

You have never been normal. The sixth infant, the first (and only) to pass the age of five years old, you were curious since the start: "Where do the stars come from, Mommy? How does fruit grow from plants? How does the fire burn? What happens after we die?"

Your parents, thrilled about finally having a kid, didn't care much about your inquisitive personality. You would eventually give up on those questions and become a normal child like the others. 

Oh, how they were mistaken.

As you hit the teenage years, the merchant started to sell you books. The people from the village thought it was funny to see you walking around with an old book with no drawings. It wasn't like anyone would teach you how to read.

Your mom was the first one to realize you were actually reading the book. She knew a few words herself, and when she asked you what these were, you answered them correctly. When questioned how you knew this, you simply shrugged, stating, "I just do."

After having to promise that you would never tell anyone in your village you taught yourself how to read, your thirst for knowledge grew even more. Everything forbidden sure tastes better. It wasn't something your parents could stop you at this point, but they could only hope no one ever came to find out about this. It could put you in grave danger. 

You are running. Surrounded by tall black trees, you run into an open corridor. You don't feel any branches hurting your bare feet and aren't out of breath, so you suspect this is a dream. The only thing on the horizon is a distant orange light.

As you get closer and closer to the light, you swear you can feel the smell of fire, something burning. You stop by an open space, finding the people of your village in a circle and, in the middle of them, a massive blaze. Your breathing seems to stop as you push the crowd away. Your worst fears are confirmed when you see your dear library being burned. 

You turn around, facing the town leader, Percy, and before you can start to ask the reason for all of this, you notice he has no mouth. None of them have. They just stare at the fire as if enchanted, paying you no attention. You cover your mouth with your hands, holding back a scream. 

And that's when you see him. The one from your dreams, appearing in the middle of the crowd. 

He is tall, wearing a black long coat and boots. His black eyes shine with the orange light, different from everyone else's completely soulless. You want to run away, but your feet are locked into the floor. It is just a dream, he can't hurt you. He stops in front of you, observing you and up and down.  

That's when you notice you are naked. Not one single piece of clothing on. Your eyes widen with fear as the man slowly approaches you, his hand raising to touch your face. His hand is warm and comforting, gentle in your cheek. 

"We meet again." He speaks, his voice smooth as his touch. "So pretty…so lost." 

You close your eyes, not wanting to see more. Incredibly, you don't feel fear. No, you are just eager? Nervous? But no fear. Just waiting for what is supposed to happen, happen. You and the man know this. 

"We will meet again soon. Now it is time to wake up."

You wake up with a loud knock on your door. You raise yourself from the bed, confused and startled. You are not used to visitors: your parents passed away years ago, and it was just you now. You didn't even have friends anymore, especially after the disease started.

Everyone eventually got sick except for you. Everyone lost a family member except you (your parents were already dead, but the village members didn't seem to care about that part). You started noticing the strange stares, angry whispers, and even kids pointing in your direction, calling you a sorcerer. A seed of the devil. That behavior just made you more reclusive, which you figure is how you didn't get sick.

Another loud knock on your door wakes you from your trance. You get up from the bed, spying through a crack in your wall: a crowd is outside your house. You gulp, not wanting to open the door, Percy's voice telling you to get out or they will come inside. You, still in your sleeping clothing, open the door, a fierce expression in your eyes. Indeed, the whole village is there, holding torches. You are surprised they don't have pitchforks. Leading the group, Percy.  

"What is it?" Your tone of defiance scandalized half of the crowd, but you didn't care. They hated you anyway for being different. 

"We need you to come with us," Percy announces to some murmurs of agreement. 

"What if I don't?"

Percy nods slightly to the strong men at his sides, who seem to hesitate momentarily before they move forward, grabbing you one by each arm. You struggle as they pull you into the middle of the crowd, opening a circle. You try to ignore the similarity with your dream earlier as Percy proclaims your name. 

"You have been accused of witchcraft! We, in a consensus, have understood you are most definitely the cause of the plague that has killed so many." As he says that, circling you around, they let go of your arms, but you cannot escape. You are trapped. The villagers stare at you with disgust, fear, and anger. 

"Witchcraft? Don't I have a chance for a fair judgment?" Percy seems to ignore your questions, explaining your crimes to the crowd. Your anger builds up in your chest; you have no chance to defend yourself, no chance of a fair trial. The unfairness of the treatment that started when you were a kid. They always had looked for a reason to burn you.

You look down, feeling defeated as the anger burns your mouth. Your body shakes as you look for a way to escape. Percy continues inflaming the crowd, more angry screams directed at you.

"Burn! BURN! BURN!"

You should have left. You should have left as soon as your parents died and never looked back. 

The smell of burning hits your nose, and you raise your head to watch them fire your small garden. The one you with your mom and dad with so much care. You want to beg them to stop, but what use? In the court of public opinion, you are guilty of being born.

You are alone. Always have been.

The face of the man of your dreams flashes in your mind as the crowd's attention goes to your house. Inflamated by Percy's screams, they take their frustrations to your home. You, on the other hand, perceive the presence behind you before the men keeping you. It is him. 

Wearing the same coat over his messy black hair, he strolls towards you. You want to pinch yourself, believe you are still in bed, still dreaming. He stops right before you, unnoticed by everyone else except you. He kneels until your eyes stare back at his dark ones. 

"I told you we would meet again." You are too shocked to answer. The world is spinning much slower now, except for you and him. 

"Who are you?" You whisper.

"I go by many names, but you can call me Carlos."

"Is this another dream?"

"No. Not this time." 

Carlos gives you a moment to assimilate the whole situation before he speaks again. 

"I can help you. I can take you away, far away from all of this. This place hated you for being what you are. I can take you somewhere you can be who you truly are."

You listen to Carlos, his eyes shining with the fire around you. It sounds tempting, too close, so you can grab it with your hands. But what would be the consequences? You are too smart to know that when someone offers you so much, they ask you for more. You barely know Carlos anyway, just finding him in projections of your mind. Carlos, as if reading your mind, smiles. 

"It sounds insane, I know. Look around yourself," Carlos points to your home burning. Your garden. Frozen people screaming as they burn down the little you loved, the little you had, "You have lived around insanity for too long. I give you a chance of escape, I give you hope. All you have to do is nod that little head of yours, and you will be presented with wonders never seen by no human eyes."

It sounds tempting. It sounds too tempting. What do you really have to lose?

A slight nod is all Carlos needs to take you away.

You nod, and Carlo's smile grows.

Your surroundings finally go back to normal speed. The men near you jump away, alarmed as they notice Carlos near you. Almost as if he appeared out of thin air. Carlos gives you his hand, and you accept it. He raises you from the floor, covering you with his cloak. Percy walks toward you two, pointing his index finger.

"Who are you? Where are you taking our prisoner?" 

Carlos, shielding you from all of that insanity, answers with a low and dangerous tone.

"They don't belong to you to torment anymore. I would advise you to keep your distance."

Percy is shocked as Carlos starts pulling you away. The next set of events seems too fast to your mind to register: someone screams it's the Devil, and Carlos whispers for you to close your eyes. You can hear the screams, the smell of flesh burning, and Percy begging for his life in a pleading voice.

You are lying inside a wagon when you open your eyes again (or regain consciousness). It is dark, and you notice the stars up in the sky. There is no moon tonight. Carlos leads a majestic black stallion; you won't be surprised if he has red eyes. You don't ask about what happened in your village as you sit at his side, simply choosing silence. 

"You are okay?" You nod. "Aren't you going to ask me about what happened?" You shake your head, looking ahead. "Good."

It is not that you aren't curious, but you simply don't care enough about what happened to them. They never cared about you, so why should you care for them?

"Where are you taking me?"

"I told you. We have a deal: I will take you where you can live your life how you want."

"Are you the Devil?" There it is. You finally ask what has been in your chest. 

"Do I look like the devil?" Carlos laughs.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway." You simply answer, shrugging, "Anything is better than before."

Carlos nods, his dark eyes watching you sideways. Maybe he shouldn't tell you now that he is indeed a demon, banished from hell, searching for someone to form a pact with him so he could regain full power. It couldn't be anyone. It had to be someone special. Maybe Carlos shouldn't tell you he had been keeping an eye on you since you were a child, his promised mate for life, the special human he needed to have. No, all of that could wait.

Now, you can finally look forward to the beginning of your new life, and Carlos will make sure you have one. No matter the cost.

taglist: @90sbee, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot. if you would like to be tagged in my halloween event, please let me know.

[i-hate-people-1]

Badass!

Eddie Munson x fem reader

When you guys are late for the movie and the worker won’t let you in, you come up with another plan.

Warning~ adult themes/flashing

SHORT 929 words

Not my gif!

It all started with Dustin's one wish for his 16th birthday being that you all went to watch the third nightmare on Elm Street, albeit a month early, but he made you all come over the night before and stay up late so that you could watch the first and second before you went and saw the third.

This is what led yall to the predicament you now find yourselves in. You see, while everyone else was on time, Steve and Robin got stuck late at the video store, and it's not like you could just started the movie without them seeing how they were renting and bringing the movies with them.

You didn't mind all that much, as it gave you plenty of time with Eddie snuggled up to him on the couch.

When you all woke up 15 minutes before the movie was supposed to start, is when you started to mind seeing as you had all slept in due to starting the movies two hours late and Dustin yelling anytime he saw someone nodding off.

You had all gotten ready and loaded up the cars as fast as you possibly could, just barely making it there 5 minutes late, which wouldn't have been a big deal had it not been for the power-hungry teenage Jackass behind the counter telling you, "You should have been here on time if you really wanted to see the movie."

"Come on, man, we're barely even late; it's the kid's birthday, and we have money; let us in," Steve told him, rolling his eyes and waving the cash in front of the boy's face.

"Like I said if," the boy started before Eddie cut him off, "If you want to see the movie, you should've been here on time. Yeah, yeah, we know, but come on, we're not asking for your liver; we just want to see the damn movie!" He finished getting angrier with every passing second, and the angrier he got, the more eccentric he became, Arms flailing around.

"Let me handle this," you said, placing a soothing hand on his arm and gently pushing him to the side.

"Come on, please let us in. I promise we won't disturb anyone. We won't even get snacks." You pleaded with him, batting your eyelashes, resting your arms on the counter, pushing your boobs together just in case he was still on the fence. Obviously, it was working. His eyes were glued to your cheats. That was until he shook his head, looking at Eddie.

"No way, I have plenty of girls come here with their boyfriends trying to get in for free by wearing a low-cut top, but I hate to break it to you; it's not the 1930s anymore; we've all seen cleavage before," the boy told you, standing his ground. You smirked at his sentiment as he was obviously bluffing, his cheeks bright red, and his breathing now shallow from just a small glance at your boobs.

This gave you an idea that normally you would never go through with, but Dustin had asked for one thing for his birthday, and you'd be damned if this kid didn't get that wish.

So you turned to the group, looking at all of them individually quickly before asking them, "You guys ready to run?" They all looked confused but nodded anyway.

Eddie, however, knew exactly what was running through your mind, smirking at you, ready to push the kids inside as soon as your plan was set into motion. You nodded briefly before turning back around to the boy behind the counter, who was arguably the most confused. You just smiled at him one last time before grabbing the front of your shirt, your boobs on full display. Eddie and Steve took the opportunity to push the kids inside the theater before any of them could get a good look as Robin followed after them laughing.

As soon as they made it inside, you pulled your shirt back down. "Bye!" you exclaimed, waving as you walked towards the door.

"Worth it!" you heard the boy shout as you walked inside, chuckling at how easy it was to get 10 people into the movies for free.

The kids ignored your earlier sentiment, having decided to use all the money that was originally for getting into the movie on snacks.

"That was so badass!" Robin yelled, pumping her first in the air. Steve and all the kids nodded along with her. This made you laugh more.

You caught sight of Eddie leaning against the wall in the little seating area, and a bag of popcorn, gummies and two drinks were sitting on the bench beside him.

You walked over to him, his hands finding your hips as you moved closer, yours reaching up to gently grab his cheeks. "You're not mad, are you?" you questioned, jutting your bottom lip out. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, moving forward to bite your bottom lip gently. "Like Robin said, that was so badass," he whispered against your lips before capturing them in a kiss—the kind of kiss that's just rough and filled with desire—the kind of kiss that makes you weak in the knees. Feeling your imbalance only made Eddie pull you closer to his body, deepening the kiss.

Your moment of bliss was ruined by the kids making gagging noises as they walked past you into the theater. "Come on, the movies are starting!" Dustin told you

You both laughed as you grabbed your snacks and walked into the theater with your friends.

[writingwhimsey]

Married to The Enemy- Shingen Ch. 51

This one got a little long

Chapter 51

Shingen was waiting in line with Ava and her friends at the movie theater concessions. His arm wrapped around Ava’s waist, holding her close as they waited their turn. It was at this moment, the fun evening was interrupted by a voice Shingen had only heard one other time before.

 “Oh my gosh! Can’t believe I’m running into you guys here! It must be a movie date night for everyone!”

Shingen could feel Ava tense up next to him. He didn’t like how this woman made Ava react. Especially when they had been having a perfectly lovely time before she arrived. His hand was resting on her hip and he gave her hip a gentle squeeze, reassuring her that he was right beside her.

Ava seemed to relax a little and leaned into him. She took a deep breath before she was turning her head. Shoko was also looking back, both of them with tight smiles. “Akemi.” They greeted.

Akemi smiled at them and Shingen could tell it was a cruel smile. She was holding hands with a man Shingen had never met before. He was as tall as Shingen and more leanly muscled with reddish hair and blue eyes.

“Ava, Shoko, you guys remember Hikaru…oh who am I kidding, of course you do, Ava. You did date him for three years before he realized there were greener pastures elsewhere.” Akemi said.

So this man…a former lover. Shingen thought, doing his best to keep a frown from forming on his face.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Shoko muttered under her breath.

Hikaru was looking at Ava…clearly with regret in his eyes. “You’re looking well, Ava.”

“I suppose she does look well. As well as someone like her can.” Akemi said. “I mean, if she had the money for better skincare and makeup she could really be a beauty.”

Shingen really hated the way this woman was ripping into Ava. He also didn’t like the way this other man was looking at her.

“I actually think she looks really great.” Hikaru said.

“So, you guys are dating again?” Shoko asked Hikaru and Akemi.

“Uh, yeah I gue…” Hikaru began.

Akemi was wrapping both of her arms around one of his and clinging to him. “Oh, yes. I gave him a call after the beach party. We were always just so suited for each other you know? Both from prominent families and all that.”

Ava gave them a smile. “You two do look good together.” She said.

“Oh, I’m glad you see it, Ava.” Akemi said. “So, no hard feelings about me stealing him from you?”

“Really I should thank you.” Ava replied. “If you two hadn’t ended up together, I wouldn’t have met my wonderful Shingen.” She was leaning more into Shingen then.

Shingen smiled as he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her cheek. “Yes, thank you for letting this treasure get away so that I could find her.” Shingen added. He would support his wife no matter what. Also, he was grateful. From the way it sounded, this other guy had hurt Ava…he didn’t like that. But if he hadn’t, Ava wouldn’t be with Shingen now.

“I don’t see what more you could have wanted when you had Ava, but I’m grateful that she’s mine now.” Shingen added, wanting to make sure that this guy knew there was no chance Ava would ever be his again.

Ava smiled and hugged Shingen tighter. 

“Hey, it’s our turn.” Kenji said.

Ava was then waving at Akemi and Hikaru. “Well, it was good to see you guys. Glad things are working out for you. Hope you guys have a great time.” She said.

“I know we definitely will.” Shoko said. “All of our seats are in the back of the theater. Which means we’re not watching the movie and pretending we’re teenagers again.” She was then giving Ava a wink. 

Ava giggled. “Hmm, that is a good plan.” She agreed.

Shingen wasn’t sure, but it seemed there was a hidden meaning to this. He would have to ask Ava about it later.

“See ya guys.” Shoko said.

The two couples were then heading to place their orders. The savory scent that filled the air was stronger by the counter. Shingen kept his arm around Ava as they looked at all the food. It seemed it was a silent agreement between the four of them not to pay any attention to Akemi and Hikaru.

“A large bag of popcorn with extra butter. And we’ll take some of these, these, and these. And a large drink to wash it all down.” Ava ordered for them.

“And we’ll take the same.” Shoko said for her and Kenji.

“I can’t believe you guys are eating all of that.” Akemi said, clearly not done aggravating Ava and Shoko just yet. “I guess once you’re married, you really don’t care about your figure. I would have to be in the gym for twenty-four hours straight to work off that much food.”

“Akemi…” Hikaru said.

Ava waved dismissively. “It’s fine. I have plenty of ways to work off all of this food. I have a home gym.” She said. 

“Yeah, named Shingen.” Shoko said with a giggle. “And I only know that because I also have a home gym, but he’s named Kenji.”

“There is a reason we have two boys.” Kenji agreed.

Shingen was grinning at Ava. “Oh? I am your workout plan?” He asked, tracing her chin with his fingertips.

Ava giggled. “Can you think of a better one?”

“No and I am very happy to be so.” He replied, leaning in to give her a light peck on the lips. He adored his wife and being affectionate with her. And he was happy to reassure her that she was his one and only love.

Akemi was fuming. But she couldn’t find anything to say.

The two couples got their food and walked away, heading towards the room their movie would be in. This would be the first time Shingen would be seeing a movie in this theater. He was excited to experience this with Ava.

Shingen followed Ava into the large room. It was currently dimly lit and there were dark curtains on the walls and red chairs throughout. They were what Shingen had learned were called recliners. Ava had explained that this was a more luxury type of theater experience as the recliners were very comfortable. But they didn’t always have such comfy chairs.

All of the chairs were facing towards one wall at the front of the room, which had a large screen playing what Ava had told him were previews for other movies. “Our seats are this way.” Shoko said, leading them all up some stairs and to the back row of chairs, going back to the middle section of the row.

Shingen was pleased to see that the chairs were paired up. So he and Ava got to sit fairly close together, though there was still an armrest between them. There was a bit of space between their chairs and the chairs Shoko and Kenji were sitting in.

Once they sat down, Shingen leaned over to Ava and whispered to her. “What was it that Shoko meant about pretending to be teenagers in the back of the theater?” He asked.

Ava gave him a playful grin. “Well, when the movie starts, they turn off the lights so that you can better see the screen and not really much else.” She explained. “And sitting in the back no one notices. It’s a favorite date of teens who want to spend the movie paying more attention to their date rather than the movie and getting up to some…mischievous things in the dark.”

Shingen lifted a brow as he gave Ava a seductive grin. “Is that so? Then I’d be happy to play the part of a love sick teenage boy.”

Ava giggled. “Well, if we’re gonna do that then you have to wait for them to turn off the lights.” She replied. “And you have to do the classic fake yawn and stretch, putting your arm around my shoulders. It’s usually how teenage boys make the first move in these situations.”

“I see.” Shingen replied. “These dating customs of your time are quite fascinating.”

Ava giggled. She was then holding up the large bucket of popcorn. “You have to try some. No movie experience is complete without the delicious, salty, buttery popcorn.”

“Why, thank you my angel.” Shingen replied, reaching a hand in and plucking a piece from the bucket and popping it in his mouth. “It is good….though I definitely prefer something a bit sweeter.” He was then leaning in a placing a kiss on Ava’s cheek. “Much better.”

Ava’s cheeks reddened. “Am I still your favorite sweet?” She asked. It seemed that the incident with Akemi and her old lover was all forgotten. Shingen was happy she could just focus on their date and enjoy their time together.

“Always my favorite, my angel.” Shingen replied.

“But I do have some others here I think you will like.” She was then holding up a box of what he had come to recognize as candy. She opened the box and pulled out a few of the treats. They were colorful. “These are called M&M’s. They’re one of my favorites.” She was then holding one of the colorful candies up to his lips.

Shingen smiled as he parted his lips and allowed her to slip the treat inside. It was sweet, but he was pleasantly surprised when he bit into the candy. The colorful part was only a shell! Inside was chocolate, that VERY delicious sweet Ava had introduced him to earlier. It had quickly become a favorite.

“Good, right?” Ava asked.

Shingen nodded. “Very. We’re going to have to bring some of these back home with us.”

Ava giggled and nodded. “I think I agree.”

The lights were soon turning off and the movie was starting. Shingen watched the movie for a little while. He did want to see what this was. Seeing the visuals on such a large screen…it was really quite something. But of course, he couldn’t help but to let his mind wander to his beautiful wife next to him. Nor could he not think about what she had said about the dating customs.

Shingen wore a grin as he pretended to yawn and stretch until his arm was around Av’s shoulders. He could hear her quiet laughter as she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. It was very much like when they watched movies together at the apartment. Just with a larger screen…and they were in a public place.

He turned his head to kiss the top of Ava’s head. Then her forehead. Her cheek. Until she finally turned her head so that he could kiss her lips. That one kiss turned into several playful kisses. Ava’s hands came to rest on Shingen’s chest as their kisses continued. Shingen happily indulged in Ava’s kisses, but made a conscious effort to hold himself back as they were still in public, even if it was in the dark. The more serious stuff could wait until they got back to the apartment.

Back in the Sengoku…

Yukimura was returning to his room late that night after a very long and stressful day. “How does Lord Shingen do this all the time?” He muttered.

“Rough day?”

Yukimura looked up at the sound of Saki’s voice. She was already in her night clothes, her long auburn hair down. She was lying on top of the futon on her stomach with her upper half propped up and her legs bent at the knee, holding her feet up in the air.

As soon as he saw her there, all of his troubles seemed to melt away. “It wasn’t so bad.” He answered. “What are you doing already in bed?” He asked.

“Just relaxing while I waited for you.” Saki answered, a smile on her face. “You should go take your evening bath and then come back here and relax with me.”

“A bath does sound nice.” Yukimura replied. “Though…it would be better if you were with me.”

Saki giggled. “I don’t think there would be anything relaxing about it then.” She teased.

“I don’t know…” Yukimura replied, walking over to the futon and kneeling down before gently pushing Saki over onto her back. He then hovered over her. “I do find myself much less stressed after making love to you.”

“Hmmm…that is a good point. You do always seem more relaxed.” She agreed. “But you had better go get your bath first. I don’t want your stink getting all over me.”

Yukimura frowned at her teasing. “I do not stink…and I would think you’d like smelling like me. Isn’t that why you started using the same soap as me? Or why you like to steal my haori sometimes?”

Saki’s cheeks reddened. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Yukimura.”

Yukimura playfully pinched her cheeks. “You’re so cute.” He told her, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to escalate. Clothes were soon coming off and passionate sighs and moans soon filled the silence of the room.

Afterwards the pair laid together, Yukimura holding Saki close. Saki was smiling up at him. “I’m glad to see that frown gone and your smile back.” She said, her fingers dancing over his cheek and rubbing that spot between his brows. “I thought you were going to end up with a permanent furrow right here.”

“Would you love me any less?” Yukimura asked.

Saki smiled. “Of course, not. I’d just have to start calling you my grumpy old man.”

“Hey…”

Saki silenced him with a kiss. “My CUTE grumpy old man.” She said with a teasing smile.

“I’ll show you cute.” Yukimura replied and then began to tickle her.

Saki laughed, but fought back, going to tickle Yukimura’s sides. The couple was soon falling into a giggling, laughing, breathless mess. 

Slowly they calmed down and were getting back to cuddling. “I didn’t even ask…how was your day?” Yukimura asked, feeling like a dope. As soon as he got in there all he could think about was getting in bed with Saki. He hadn’t even stopped to find out if she’d had a stressful day.

“Pretty normal really.” She answered with a shrug. “Oh, I got a letter from my parents today.”

“Oh? Are they doing well?”

Saki nodded. “Yup. Really well in fact. They’re actually planning a visit.”

“Really?” Yukimura asked, surprised. “I guess they miss you, huh?”

Saki shrugged. “I suppose. But they really want to come because they want to meet you.”

Yukimura blinked. “Why would they wanna meet me?”

“I don’t know…maybe because I told them about my handsome lover.” Saki answered.

“Wait…you told them I was your lover?”

“Are you not? I mean we did just get finished making love…which we have started doing just about every night. I’ve moved into your room with you…”

“That’s not what I meant.” Yukimura replied. “I meant…they aren’t gonna think…”

“Think what? Think you’re bad for stealing their daughter’s virtue or something?” Saki asked. “Which, just so you know you didn’t.”

“Saki, that’s not what I meant…but I mean…”

“All they’re gonna want to do is see that I’m happy and see that you’re a good guy.” Saki assured him. “And trust me, they’re gonna love you just like I do.”

Yukimura smiled. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because you may be a dummy, but you’re my dummy and you make me happy.” She answered. “And you’re a good man, Yukimura. That’s all that will matter to them.”

“You really think I’m a good man?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be in your arms right now.” Saki answered.

Yukimura hugged Saki closer. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.” Saki replied. “I love you, too.”

Taglist: @limonzu @zulablaise @oda-princess @kisara-16 @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @selenacosmic

@bjorkshire-pudding @eventinelysplayground

[smallraindrops-blog]

Meet Me in The Sunflower Fields.

(A sleep family series)

Summary: out of order snapshots of the hazy days of summer with cherry popsicles and the distant, happy laughter of family. Modern!au

Word count: 1k

warnings: no beta, hinted at family trauma, cursing

Notes: this will be a daily series for the month of July. Super self-indulgent so beware. I will have a sleep family Masterlist out soon, so yall won’t have to hunt through all the tags.

Also did it as a modern au so to not spoil any upcoming lore.

Prompt list credit

Masterlist for WMFTD

I hope y'all enjoy this first part.

~~

Summer Kisses

The air felt sticky with heat, clinging to Hypnos’ skin with each step he took into the backyard. The boys were loudly playing in the pool, trying to get their grandpa to join them. 

Hypnos smiled at the sight even as he tugged at his shirt to help cool himself off, but that wasn’t why he was there. He scanned the yard with a frown, looking for his missing husband. 

When he spied both you and your father glaring darkly over the wooden fence at a certain pair of lovebirds, he rolled his eyes before going over.

The thing was, Hypnos knew it was coming. 

Icelos was the romantic of the family. She was the one sighed at the dramatic kiss during movies, her eyes going dreamy as Morpheus or Phobetor gagged with great force. 

Or hiding in the romance sections in the bookstore, trying to read the pages quickly as she could. Hypnos didn’t have the heart to tell Icelos that she wasn’t as sneaky as she thought.

So when a boy, with a car that was far too nice for him to own, drove up to their house and honked loudly and far too long, Hypnos had known. Icelos running out the house only sealed the deal.

You had looked ready to commit homicide the moment you heard the pesky honking.

“Glaring at them isn’t going to help, dearest.” Hypnos informed you, standing on his toes to join in on the staring. 

Icelos was blissfully unaware, twirling her hair as she leaned down to talk to the boy through the car window. The boy however was giving both you and Achilles fearful glances.

So he wasn’t a total idiot, thankfully. 

“It is helping me.” You grumbled. “He needs to leave. Now.”

”Back in my day, the boy was supposed to meet the girl at the door, not having the girl run to him.” Achilles said with a sour frown.

“And meet the parents.” You agreed, looking like you were considering marching over to them.

“Dearest, you used to be like that.” Hypnos said dryly, a smile pulling at his lips. “You climbed into my bedroom window to see me until my mother chased you out.” 

“That was a different time.” You said, dismissed his words as you narrowed your eyes. “Who in the hell let their kid drive a Range Rover?”

Hypnos sighed.

”Achilles. May I have a word with your son in private?” Hypnos gave Achilles a polite smile that clearly told him to fuck off which he did with a muttered ‘good luck’ to his son.

However Achilles didn’t return to Patroclus, he just went farther down the fence line,  never taking his glare off at the poor boy.

”What did I do?” You whispered in disbelief, leaning down to keep the conversation between them. Your arm braced on the fence, your body turned to him, the sheer size of you closing off the rest of the world.

Even after years of marriage and four children, the intensity of your eyes still left Hypnos a little breathless.

For a moment, Hypnos felt the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach, like he was an awkward teenager all over again, crushing on his mortal enemy. It took everything in him not to smile at the feeling.

Hypnos crossed his arms, frowning up at you. “You need to handle this with some respect for our daughter.” 

You scowled but before you could speak, Hypnos continued. “This whole scary father with a shotgun thing is only going to push Icelos away. She is a smart, pretty young lady, she is going to have people interested.”

You and him stared each other down, a silent battle of wills in the heat of sunlight. Then you broke, rubbing at your beard with a huff.

“Yeah, but that kid?” You jerked a thumb toward the car. “I get what you are saying but that little shit didn’t show the slightest bit of respect for our daughter. He shouldn’t have honked like that.”

You paused, and placed a large hand on his hip to tug him closer. Hypnos went obediently, lifting an eyebrow when you spoke again. “And he should have come to the door to meet us. I did that for you.” 

Hypnos didn’t disagree but this was one of those moments that they needed to show their daughter that her parents trusted her to make smart decisions. He spent too many years In therapy to not listen to the costly therapist.

“We will speak to her about that.” Hypnos promised quietly, leaning in closer. “I agree. But we can’t handle this like my family did.” 

You ducked your head down to brush a kiss against his lips. “We won’t. I promise you that.”

Hypnos smiled, hooking a finger in your shirt collar to keep you close. “Thank you.”

The next kiss was supposed to be a quick one, but somehow Hypnos forgot that, especially when you gave his bottom lip a playful nip, surprising him into deepening the kiss. 

“Hey!” 

You and Hypnos jerked away like you were the guilty teenagers when Achilles shouted. 

Hypnos blinked, somehow Achilles was already charging halfway down the driveway, shouting at the boy to get his filthy mouth off his precious granddaughter. 

You muttered a swear and in a graceful move, leaped over the fence with one hand to run down the driveway after your father.

With a quiet laugh, Hypnos just watched for a minute as you and Achilles broke up the romantic moment. The boy was hiding in his car seat as Icelos stood toe to toe with her father and grandfather.

Something Hypnos never felt like he could do. Too beaten down by his own family for just existing sometimes.

Maybe they were doing something right after all. But still they were definitely going to have to speak to her about her boyfriend’s disrespectful behaviors. There were boundaries for a reason.

Hypnos decided he would give it another minute before stepping in. He could use the entertainment anyway.

[anulithots]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

I haven't been asked this question before, so thank you for asking!

I'm not sure if I'm going to run over ten, so I'll include duos/dynamics as well. (That was a mistake.. this is soo longggg. Thank you so much for asking but I don't think you knew what you were getting into. /pos.)

(In no particular order.... and I've written a lot about most of these characters, sorry if it's a bit long <3 )

Just a note that my JJK analysis's are up to the Hidden Inventory arc. I keep rereading that one to avoid the pain of the Shibuya arc... but I should be on my last reread for now!

Character quick list:

Donnie and Mikey from Rise,

Teacher and Shiva from The Girl from the Other SIde,

Itadori yuji, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki from Jujutsu Kaisen,

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto from Jujutsu Kaisen

Inej Ghafa and Jesper Fahley (sorry if I spelled thier names wrong!) from Six of Crows

Emma, Norman and Ray from The Promised Neverland

And I really liked Roz from the Wild Robot, and The Magnus Chase series, but It's been a while since I've read them. Currently reading 'A tale for the Time Being' and I like Nao's deep thoughts and unabashed honesty. She's also quite dark and casual about dark themes, and it does feel like how my brain used to be... dark stuff is casual there.

I do like Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games. I watched the movies but have not read the books yet, and I want to before I start analyzing. I also want to read Sherlock Holmes so... yea.

#1: Donnie and Mikey from Rise of the Teenage mutant ninja turtles

Donnie is literally me. From the way he pronounces random words from his theater kid energy to his obsession with science. (I don't like physics but I'm writing a fanfiction on biology soooo....) I have a need to be useful otherwise I'm wasted space (because the information is more useful and important than the individual), go on infodumps for hours, get irritated and defensive easily and overall, I've never related to a character more. I just don't have the same empathy levels. For that I share traits with Mikey. I like being overly nice and trying to listen and make everyone feel heard. I also get very emotional very fast and constantly need hugs.

Also his relationship with Mikey reminds me of two of my siblings.

Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles took me out of a depressive period with the most intense hyperfixation I've ever had, and it's the first time I've read fanfiction (Like father like son..... sobs)

#2: Teacher and Shiva from the Girl from the Other Side.

They have the most wholesome found family relationship ever. The pain they give me is insurmountable. Every time I reread the manga I have the widest, dopiest smile because the wholesome scenes are so so so pure. I don't see a lot of stories that let the mundane be that special.

Also the way Shiva's written is just.. chefs kiss. Because she isn't written as an annoying child. She thinks she's being helpful, and she is helpful. All she wants is to keep everyone together, and for everyone to be happy, and the thing she hates the most is people hating her/being scared of her.... and the guilt. The most depth-filled child character in existence here.

And teacher... Just... *screams*. His overthinking and endlessly caring demeanor. The way he second guesses everything he does and worries so much that he gets worried about worrying. He's also quite hard on himself.

And I think they are supposed to represent the two sides of loving others. Shiva is the 'they make me happy and I can help them' part. The wholesome, childlike side.

Teacher is the worrying side. The side that tries so hard to protect the others that their anxiety drives them crazy.

(I got up to the second delux edition.)

#3 The Tokyo Trio (Itadori, Fushiguro, and Nobara) from Jujutsu Kaisen. (my most recent hyperfixation.)

Itadori: His fear of regretting his life, using a role to avoid that, making sure not to think about his execution or his death too much. Him trying so hard to help others in a way only he can do. Using 'dying a natural death' to justify to himself that he's okay with this (he isn't). Fearing death that he doesn't have control over. Structuring his life around caring for others. The sweetest bean here.

Fushiguro: HIs morrallittyyyyy. The way he needs to be the one to deliver fairness because the world isn't fair to him. The way he thinks bad people shouldn't be saved, that they deserve retribution, and that good people will let themselves suffer because they are good. So Fushiguro is going to protect good people as much as he can (see Itadori.) Itadori and Fushiguro's morality struggle is sooo interestingggggg aaaa-

Nobara: She's the strategist of the group, the one who'll keep emotions out of the missions so she can enjoy herself later. Kill people? Well, it's part of the job, she's not going to let that effect her. She tries not to get attached to people, and values enjoying herself in Tokyo. ITADORI AND NOBARA'S DYNAMIC IS SO FUNNY (and she would've gotten along with Gojo... I just want an episode with them accidently meeting each other on a shopping trip and getting into trouble.)

And I'm sorry in advance for all the writing I'm about to include:

Fushiguro:

Nobara:

#4 Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen

(Also I love Shoko despite how little screen time she gets. )

I've analyzed them here and I'll include my notes and written analysis... but overall...

They encapsulate a comfort and trust and love for each other that I rarely see. It's something indescribable and special. They truly transcend labels for each tother and just.... yeah the relationships and dynamics in JJK are on another level. I've ranted about them before <3

AND I'LL RANT ABOUT THEM MORE:

#5? Inej Ghafa and Jesper Fahley.

(I read this before I started writing my analysis's down. Everything from here on out has less writing. Thanks for being patient with me <3)

(I prefer book them to Show them tbh... although I haven't watched all of the show and I prefer books/manga to shows sometimes because it's easier for me to analyze as I'm reading and reread)

Also it's been a while and I'm doing some analysis from memory so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Why I like Inej: Her making herself a tool for others so that she could survive. She put her own wants and past to the side so she could become dangerous, so no one could take advantage of her again. Her growth to chasing her dreams, living for herself, saying that her heart aims true for making the world better. She has such a good arc.

Why I like Jesper: He's impulsive and silly and him not being able to get rid of his addiction to gambling even though he's aware of how it's making his father more in debt. Him using a skill he has (sharpshooting) to express his Grisha powers and not wanting to acknowledge that he's a Grisha. ALso him and Wylan. Adorable.

#6 Emma, Norman and Ray from the Promised Neverland.

(last one for now!)

Emma's caring nature and will not hesitate to beat you up if you're being self-sacrificial. (I wish they went more in depth with Emma's disregarding other's emotions to do what is best for them. Could've been cool conflict). Her wanting to save everyone no matter how hard it will be, loving her little siblings so much. The betrayal of Isabella towards her. ('She didn't like the tests, but she liked her mother's praise'). How scared and conflicted she became. How much she mourned her old life.

Ray's cold cut nature, practical, resourceful. His backstory in which he had to live with the death of his siblings for years, to the point where he resolved himself to save only Norman and Emma. His preparation for years and years to make sure they were safe. Not wanting to save all of the Grace field children because it would doom them all.

Norman knowing that they might not be able to save them all, but wanting to try for Emma. How much he strategized, how hard he tried. How he's in between. How scared he was for himself, how much he admired Emma's care for others, how he tried to strategize for all of them. How he hid his pain and fear.

______________________________________________________________

ThANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!

and to all my mutuals/followers, @mylee-sketches, and anyone else who stumbles across this post...

yes I hyperfixate.