#finalgirl!reader

[sematarygirls]

        SLASHER!RAFE x FINALGIRL!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ dubcon, unprotected p in v, knife play, choking, hair pulling, degradation, one use of the word daddy, blood, murder, gore

NOTES .ᐟ  everyone ignore how i change my post layouts every five seconds, but i went kind of out of my comfort zone and decided to put my nasty little fantasies to paper with this one, so i hope yall freaks enjoy.

                 ♱     ‘‘ we all go a little mad sometimes ’’

The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed to echo off the walls of the empty wooden cabin. A loose floorboard underneath you dug painfully into your ribs, but you didn't dare move an inch, your eyes trained on the door and ears perked up as you kept yourself alert for any signs of life. Every creak of the old cabin and whistle of the wind outside had you biting back a gasp as hot, salty tears ran down your cheeks.

Your lip was trembling, heart beating so loud in your chest that you were afraid it would give away your position hidden away under one of the rickety beds. Flashes of the gruesome scene beyond the four wooden walls that were currently giving you some semblance of safety filled the darkness everytime your eyes fluttered shut.

Blood. Blood everywhere. With the amount of blood you'd seen and the eerie quiet that had settled over the camp, only the wind and the crickets to keep you company, you were almost positive that everyone else was dead.

You found yourself grateful that the campers had all gone home that morning, spared from the wrath of the axe-wielding maniac that had beheaded, dismembered, gutted, and disfigured all your coworkers. You could still see the face of your boss, the head counselor, in your mind, lifeless, sunken eyes staring past you and ghostly pale skin practically reflecting in the moonlight.

You didn't have time to ponder whether the unrecognizable corpse a few feet away belonged to the disembodied head before you because a pitched, sadistic whistling started up. You weren't sure what direction it had come from as it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Running and hiding seemed to be the best course of action, so you took off, trying to focus on what was ahead of you and not the massacre that was all around you.

That was when you slipped into the cabin and scrambled under the bed, your heavy breathing—a mix of physical exertion and pure horror—reverberating off the walls. A twig snapping outside had you clamping your hand over your mouth, a small squeak falling from your lips as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to will the murderer away from your location.

A few tense moments passed with your eyes shut tight and not another sound to be heard. Your ears strained to pick up anything besides the wind whipping through the trees and the ironically lively sounds of insects chirping but still, nothing.

You let out an internal sigh of relief, your eyes fluttering open and sweeping the floor in front of you for feet, thankfully finding none. "Boo," a voice suddenly whispered, making your eyes widen. A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as a hand clamped down on your ankle, pulling you forcefully out from under the bed. You clawed at the floor and kicked at him, but your attempts to fight off the larger, stronger man were futile.

When he had pulled you all the way out of the hiding place that had lulled you into a false sense of security, you quickly turned over to face him, bracing yourself up on your hands as your chest heaved and eyes widened with fear.

You found yourself slightly taken aback as your gaze landed on the handsome, blood-spattered face before you. You'd more or less expected a middle-aged hillbilly with missing teeth and a crazed look in his eyes. Instead, you were face to face with a wicked smirk and cold blue eyes that glared down at you, glinting sinisterly in the dim, warm lighting. He had forgone his axe, the polished blade of a knife clutched in his hand, catching the light.

"Gotcha," he said lowly, his voice taking on a distinctly menacing and warning tone, as if daring you to try and run from him. His tall frame towered over you, even as he crouched down to be level with you, the sharp scent of the blood coating his white button up making your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Please," you begged weakly, crawling backward until your back hit the wooden bedframe of the bed you'd just sought refuge under. He seemed unfazed by your attempts to scurry away from him, simply leaning closer and bringing the knife up to brush a strand of hair away from your face in a gesture that was deceptively gentle.

"Shh, it's okay," he cooed, his voice dripping with false comfort and a twisted amusement. He lightly ran the knife down your cheek, making you stiffen, not wanting to move an inch and risk the blade dipping into your skin. "Are you scared?" He asked, stopping the cold steel of the knife underneath your chin and using it to tilt your head up a little bit, forcing you to look at him.

His icy blue eyes bored into yours as he waited for your answer. You couldn't form a sentence, simply staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Your mind was whirling with thoughts, most presently not wanting to die, but just beyond that, you registered the damp feeling between your legs that had you wondering if you had truly lost your mind. You were face to face with a man who had brutally murdered atleast a dozen people and was presently covered in their blood, and you were turned on?

"I asked you a fucking question," he said, drawing you from your thoughts. His chiseled jaw clenched as he pressed the knife ever so slightly into your skin, the tip of the blade nicking your neck and making a small whimper fall from your lips. He leaned closer, his breath fanning over your face. "Are you scared?" He repeated, his tone making it clear that he expected an answer when he asked you a question.

"Y-yes," you replied, your voice trembling as you felt a warm, sticky droplet of blood slip down your neck from the small cut he had made and into your shirt, right through the valley of your breasts.

"Good," he hummed, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face. Your breath hitched as you felt the blade begin to move again, dipping lower and lower, following the trail of blood on your skin. "Bet you'd do whatever I told you to, yeah?"

You nodded, probably a little too quickly. Deep down, some sick part of you wanted this, wanted him to touch you and defile you in ways that would have your mother clutching her pearls. Fear was one motivator. Of course you wanted to get out of this alive and were willing to do whatever it took, but as much as you wanted to convince yourself it was, you knew it wasn't the only reason you would bend to the handsome stranger's will.

He grinned wickedly, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pulling you up into a standing position. The tip of the knife pressed firmly against your sternum, his fingers flexing around the column of your throat—his grip unyielding but not quite painful—as he stood there for a moment, just staring at you.

His calculating gaze swept over your face, taking in every little detail before slipping down. A glint of satisfaction flickered across his face as he saw the cut on your skin, following the blood trail down into your little tank top. He subconsciously licked his lips at the view, the thin material of your shirt and your little shorts not leaving much to the imagination. You shuddered under his intense stare, feeling suddenly very exposed as he shamelessly checked you out.

His eyes lingered on your chest, the rise and fall of your breasts clearly visible as it heaved with your quick, shallow breaths—whether from fear or anticipation, you were still trying to decipher. His face twisted into a smug expression, clearly noting the effect he was having on you.

He slowly, tauntingly, dragged the blade up from your sternum to your collarbone before pulling it back down in the same tantalizing manner. His gaze seemed to pierce your soul, watching in amusement as you squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp.

Before you could register what was happening, a loud clatter abruptly echoed throughout the room, making you jump and gasp softly in a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened a fraction as you felt his calloused fingers slip under your shirt, dancing along your bare skin.

Your gaze darted to the source of the noise, the knife laying discarded on the floor a few feet away. "Uh, uh, uh," he reprimanded, his grip on your throat tightening, his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you feel the threat of being cut off from air. "Don't look over there. Look at me."

Your eyes met his again, his pupils dilated, the pools of black giving him an even more menacing look as he glared at you with a hardened stare. "Don't try anything stupid," he warned lowly, his fingertips digging into the delicate flesh of your neck. "I don't want to have to kill you. I'd be a shame for such a pretty face to go to waste."

His hand left your throat, sliding to the back of your head and curling his long fingers into your hair. Yanking your head back and exposing the column of your neck further, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"Uh-Uh huh," you managed, unable to nod due to the harsh, painful grip he had on your hair. His hot breath fanning against your skin seemed to go right to your aching core, making you mentally curse yourself for whatever Freudian concept had you attracted to a man who was probably going to murder you before the night was over.

"Hm? What was that?" He taunted you, giving your hair another tug that had you letting out a small "ah" in pain. "Gonna have to speak up. Use your words."

"Yes," you whimpered, giving him the verbal affirmation he wanted to hear. His cruel and violent behavior really shouldn't have been turning you on as much as it was, but something about him was downright intoxicating, making you latch helplessly onto every word he said.

"Good," he grinned darkly, rewarding you by letting go of your hair before both of his large, strong hands settled on your waist. In one swift movement, he spun you around so your back was facing him. He kept his left hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into your skin as the other hand splayed along your stomach over your top.

You swallowed hard, looking forward out the window. It was so dark outside, the light from the room casting a glare on the glass that allowed you to see your reflection and by association, the man behind you. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck as his tall frame dwarfed your smaller one.

His fingertips dipped into your shorts without warning, making you gasp softly as you felt the pads of his fingers run along your glistening folds. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he whispered into your ear, and you could hear the sick satisfaction in his voice. "You like me roughing you up, huh? You want me to hurt you."

He pulled his fingers back, leaving you feeling strangely disappointed. Your slick transfered from his fingers to your skin as he carefully pulled out, trailing his fingers alone your stomach before curling them into the waistband of your shorts and tugging down, letting them fall to the floor.

"Onto the bed," He breathed hotly against your skin before shoving you forward with enough force to send you stumbling toward the bed in front of you. You braced yourself on your hands and knees as you fell forward, unknowingly getting yourself exactly where he wanted you. He positioned himself behind you, gripping your hips tightly.

One of his hands slid up your spine, roughly gripping your hair again and pushing your face forcefully into the pillows below, making you yelp softly in surprise. "Don't you fuckin' move," he warned you, his voice dripping with dark promise of what would happen if you did as he pulled back.

You heard him fiddling with his belt before a loud clank resounded through the room, indicating it had found a home on the floor along with the forgotten knife. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you waited in anticipation—a sick eagerness setting your body abuzz.

One hand came back to your waist, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. He guided himself to your covered entrance, using his thick head to push the flimsy lace of your panties aside. You gasped into the pillows, your hips instinctively pushing back against him as he ran his tip along your wet folds, being deceptively gentle despite his true intentions.

With a brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching your walls in a manner that was both painful and sinfully delicious as he groaned in satisfaction. He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of being buried in your tight, wet heat before beginning to move, each thrust sending your body crashing against the bed.

The old, rickety wood screeched with each brutal thrust that he delivered into you. You were a mess of moans and whines, muffled by the pillows beneath you that smelled faintly of mothballs. He trailed a hand up your back once again, mirroring his previous actions of curled it into your hair to keep you pressed firmly into the mattress beneath you.

"You like that, huh?" He mocked you, finding a perverted pleasure in how eager you were for him to fuck you senseless. "What kind of sick whore lets a murderer fuck her, hm?" He hummed, tugging on the strands of your hair that were wrapped around his long fingers as he continued to deliver rough thrusts into your poor cunt, his hard length abusing your cervix as he chased his own high.

You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, his grip on your hip bruising as he forcefully pulled your body back to meet his thrusts. "That's it," he cooed derisively, not letting up the slightest bit. "Lay there and take it like a good girl." His hot and cold act—one minute praising you and the next demeaning you—had your head spinning in a way that wasn't unwelcome.

Your body jolted as he unexpectedly slid his hand down, his calloused fingertips rubbing tight, quick circles on your swollen clit. Your hands fisted into the bedsheets, body tensing as the combination of sensations overwhelmed you.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned as he watched you writhe beneath him, his fingers merciless on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" He purred condescendingly

He increased the pressure, his touch unyielding as he felt your body growing taut beneath him, your breath hitching. "That's right, come for daddy," he taunted, his voice dripping with menace as he brought the hand in your hair down to grip your hip for leverage.

Your body seized up as the coil inside you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you in intense waves. A strangled cry tore from your throat into the pillows, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own high.

Feeling your walls tighten around him sent him over the edge, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed himself deep into you. He let out a low groan, his head falling pack in ecstacy as he painted your walls with his release.

Your body slumped against the bed as he slowly pulled out, your chest heaving from exertion. Your mind was in a daze, briefly forgetting that the man with you could kill you at any moment.

You hesitantly turned over, propping yourself on your elbows, watching him tuck himself back into his pants and retrieve his belt and knife from their place on the floor. You regarded him warily, watching every move cautiously to make sure that he wasn't going to approach you and slit your throat now that he had taken what he wanted.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours and glinting with a sinister light as he took in your sweaty appearance, your hair sticking wildly in all directions, a few strands clinging to your forehead. He lifted the knife, pointing it at you—a clear threat. "You tell the cops or anyone else that I was here, and I'll fuckin' find you, hear?"

Your eyes widened slightly as your brain tried to process the words he'd just said. When they finally did register in your mind, you nodded frantically, showing him that you understood. He was leaving you alive. You were going to make it home. He studied you for a moment longer, his brows furrowing ever so slightly like he was mulling over something in his mind.

Finally, he gave you a small nod, his face a mask of indifference as he left without another word—like he didn't just kill a shit ton of people and then fuck you senseless. You simply watched him leave in disbelief. You didn't really expect for him to actually let you live, but you were eternally grateful that he had.

You let out a long sigh of relief as soon as his footsteps faded into the night, letting your elbows give out from under you. Your back hit the mattress and you stared up at the ceiling, trying to put together a plausible story for why you were the last one standing after the brutal massacre and why you hadn't the faintest clue who could have done such a horrible thing.

this one goes out to my babygirl @starkeysprincess

[slashingdisneypasta]

I always loves the bit in ANOES when Freddy gets hit in the gut with a fallen mallet booby trap and then topples down the stairs 🤣

[ghostlycod]

saw @/quarterlifekitty posting their playlists for the boys and I want to join in on the fun

here’s the playlist for slasher!ghost x finalgirl!reader

the playlist is kind of supposed to be a conversation between the two, with the first three songs being Ghost’s, then the next being reader’s, and back and forth one song each until Weedkiller. from then on the POV is strictly reader’s in the playlist.

okay here’s the playlist

oh, and this playlist is basically just the entire plot of the fic that I’m writing and the story progresses almost the same as the fic. Please also imagine the second to last song “It Will Come Back” as like the cliffhanger ending and sort of Ghost’s last laugh and then the last song “Criminal” would be our credits music. “Lights Out” is the optional end credits scene, thank you

[sea-lanterns]

STOPP SHY SLASHER READER IM OBSESSED. NEED MORE OF THAT

No but imagine this with any final girl you like but I WANNA KNOW WHO DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THIS W READER???

FinalGirl! Char: Now get out.

Reader, standing at the doorway, covered in blood holding a weapon: im hungry.

FinalGirl! Char: So lick that coat! You smell like a-

Reader: grilled cheese.

FinalGirl! Char: What?

Reader: grill me. a cheese.

FinalGirl! Char: I'm not grilling you a chees-

Reader starts sobbing

FinalGirl! Char: Oh for God's sake-

In the end, reader got their grilled cheese.

Reader is all cold, wet and dirty from her killing sprees. She just wants a hot grilled cheese made by her girlfriend 🥺

Honestly, I can see Chiori being the Final Girl in this meme, as she is the only one who is stern enough to actually scold her when she tracks blood in the house. She doesn’t like putting up with Slasher! Reader’s bullshit, but when she gives her those pathetic eyes and starts sobbing, Chiori cracks just as easily as any of the other Final Girls.

Cue Chiori standing in the kitchen at 12 am while everyone else is asleep, making you a grilled cheese on the skillet while you sit at the table kicking your legs like a patiently. Chiori would never cook for anyone, but I guess you are the exception 😭😭

[pizzaapeteer]

⋆˚｡⋆Jinxed July Masterlist ⋆｡˚⋆

｡⋆This is all my completed work for the Jinxed July challenge｡⋆ Created by @thatdammchickennugget & @finalgirll, challenge prompts

Week 1 ~ sunglasses at night - In which Mattheo has to keep a accidentally stoned y/n away from Bluna.

Week 2 ~ (posted so mf late) ignited reunion - a smutty best friend brother Mattheo who reunites with reader after she ends up in jail.

Week 3 ~ lay all your love on me super fluffy and cute bf mattheo x reader going for a night swim on holiday

Week 4 ~ The hanging Fear - in order for Mattheo to win you back over and your stubbornness he pushes himself to new heights (literally) to get you to forgive him.

Here’s the full masterlist for everyone who participated in the event! 🌟

[darkromanceenthusiast]

This made me think of all my readers lmao it’s so rare to find something that goes for my slasher, creepypasta, and yandere fandoms >_>

[paladin0619]

8 Questions with............Morrigan Milam (Waspzilla) (XXX-mas) 

Join us on Thursday, Feb 8th we welcome back the very dynamic and lovely actress Morrigan Milam to 8 Questions with..... We will be catching with Morrigan as so many wonderful things have been happening in her life......new films,newly married and soon to be a mother!! We will be talking with Morrigan about her newest films "Waspzilla" "Sorority Babes" and "XXX-mas" plus a whole slew of other films which will drop in 2024 and beyond. Morrigan is one of the coolest actresses working in indie horror today and we are honored that she is spending her birthday with us!! So drop and enjoy our conversation and wish Morrigan a Happy Birthday!!. This LIVE interview will start 9 pm EST/6 pm PST and the link to the show is the picture of Morrigan.

 #8questionswithpodcast #havecheetahwillview @theemorrigannn #liveinterview #happybirthday #actress #actresses #workingactress #horror #screamqueen #director #filmdirecting #workingactress #newlywed #horrormovies #horrorfans #finalgirl #finalgirls #fearless #creative #creator #adventuresome #reader #artist #talented #skilled #happybirthday #happybirthdaymorrigan #supportindiefilm

.

[ghosts-to-reid]

Final Girl (2)

Description: Y/N joins the gang to find Eddie, fianl girl instincts kick in, until shes reunited with him. 

PART 1 TAGLIST: @sadbitchfangirl A/N: Part 2 is finally out, ngl im not too happy with it but it is a LONG one.

Your aunt was reluctant to let you leave the house. She knew about your escape plan and was worried about you taking off without a word. Before you left, she made you call Heather. She knew she was someone you trusted, and knew that she, if anyone, would be the one to clear your head.

“Hello?” Her voice rang from the end of the speaker, you took a deep breath

“Heather? It’s Y/N” You forced a smile, unsure why, she couldn’t see you.

“Oh god, thank god you called. I heard about what happened, I was about to call you. How are you?” She was always concerned, she was selfless, and cared so much about other people. Of course she kept tabs on Hawkins out of concern for you.

“I mean.. Not really. She was my friend, Heather. I KNEW her… We shared most of our classes together.” Your voice was quivering. Breath shaking.

“Darling, just remember, these things can just happen. It's horrible, no one knows how evil man can be better than us, but just remember, not every tragic death has something to do with us, ok? This isn’t the start of a new final girl, or a continuation for you.” She paused for a moment. She was right, you knew that. But, you couldn’t help but panic every time something happened =, it made your fight or flight kick in. “If you need to get away, you can come to the camp ok? It’s spring break, we’re open for the holiday, just send me the word and i’ll have your bunk set up, ok?” This calmed you more than anything. Seeing Heather always helped you. You hummed a response and let her go. Your aunt was leaning against the nearby door frame.

“See? You already look clamer. Go see your friends, and try to have fun.” She gave you a warm smile and a quick hug before she let you go. Little did either of you know what you were getting yourself into.

Stepping into the family video you were greeted by some familiar faces, the most familiar ebing Dustin Henderson, the freshman. You had no idea how you became so close with the freshman but you could blame Eddie for that. He rushed over to you as soon as he saw you, dragging you to the desk.

“Have you heard?” He rushed out, you nodded and he began rambling about the murder of Chrissy, how they needed to find Eddie, where she was found. As he continued you started to panic more, what was he saying?

She was found in Eddie's trailer? 

Eddie went missing?

There was no way he was involved. He was too kind. 

Your anxiety got the better of you though. Thinking back to the other final girls you thought about Jessica. Her final girl villain was her boyfriend, he killed her friends and then tried to kill her. Anything was possible.

The colour must've drained from your face because Steve Harrington stepped forward to shush Dustin. You knew him by pure reputation and the few times you’d come to the store with your aunt.

“Hey man calm down a bit. You know what she's been through, can’t you see shes panicking?” The younger boy looked up at the older, whispering a shit before apologising. Taking a deep breath you tried to organise your thoughts.

“So…. So you’re telling me Eddie did that to Chrissy?” Your voice was weak, trembling

“No! No no no way, look um… We need to catch you up on a few things. But, Eddie definitely didn’t do this, but we know who did. We need to know where Eddie might be. So we can clear his name.” Dustin looked at you hopefully, you bit your lip while weighing your options.

“Look, Dustin. This… This is all too much for me. It… It’s too much. I’m ready to skip town, I don’t think i can handle this whole killing thing again.” You spoke to your shoes, not able to meet anyone's eyes. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Y/N… Please. We don’t know anyone more badass to help us.” You looked up to the girl, her name was Robin, you recognised her from school. Neither of you had ever really spoken before. She stepped from behind the counter and took a hold of your shoulders. “I’ve heard about what happened and it is so. SO terrible but you are a fighter. You kicked ass twice! You won, you are THE final girl. If anyone can help us here it's you.” She smiled to you, you never had anyone call you badass to your face. 

“What I did, what I HAD to do wasn’t bad ass. It was fight or flight, it was adrenaline, I didn’t have a choice. Honestly, I'm ready to skip town til this is all blown over. Someone else can deal with this for once. I had my sequel, I’m not about to add a third film to the franchise that is my shitty life.” There was a beat of silence before Dustin spoke up.

“Do it for Eddie. You’ve seen real monsters, help him. You don’t want him to go down as a killer do you?” 

This struck a chord with you. You took another deep breath.

“Fine. But the minute this turns into a horror movie I'm out.” 

Dustin cheered before turning back to you.

“Ok so, do you know where Eddie might be? I know he’d feel a lot better if you were there and surely he would want you to find him of all people.”

It took you a minute but you thought of a place. Reefer ricks. Before you knew it, everyone was piling into Harrington's car and speeding off.

The house was empty. This house always gave you the creeps. You’d come with Eddie a few times to get his supply, he encouraged you to come purely for exposure therapy. He knew where everything went down originally, and thought that it’d be helpful to get you used to areas like it so you didn’t live your life in fear, still you hated it.

Leading everyone up to the door you gingerly push it open, Steve pushing his way in front of you.

“Yeah you may be the final girl but I'm the one who takes the lead in creepy places.” He muttered, making you roll your eyes. Steve led everyone through the house, and began prodding a tarp covering the inside of a boat. You looked at Robin with a raised brow and she shrugged.

“He’s not going to be in there, dumbass.” Dustin said with an eye roll.

“Yeah well i'm not taking chances, people can be anywhere, have you ever seen a horror movie, Henderson?” Steve had turned to speak to DDustin when something flew out of the tarp, grabbing Steve and shoving him against a wall. Instincts kicked in and you reached for the gun that was tucked away in your waistband, aiming for the figure. 

What? Did you really think you left it with the rest of your things? In this sort of situation? If you did, then you really underestimate the final girls. They’re always ready.

“WOAH WOAH WOAH” Dustin shouted, at both you and… Eddie? Eddie stood, broken bottle against Harrington's neck, looking terrified. You knew that look, you’d seen and felt it more times than you can count. It was fear. Lowering your gun and stuffing it back into your waistband, you approached Eddie.

“Eddie?” His eyes shot to you, wide, his breath was shaky. His hand quivered as he held the bottle to Harrington's neck. 

“Y/N?” He muttered, meeting your eyes.

“We’re here to help you.” Dustin spoke, arms up in a calming motion. Eddie's eyes shot between you and Dustin. 

“Steve dropped the oar.” You said, eyes never leaving Eddies. With a clatter the oar was dropped, and as he did so, Eddie let him go, dropping the bottle and swallowing you into a hug. You gripped his figure tightly, stroking his back to calm him down. He took a shaky breath.

“What are you doing here?” He muttered, mainly to you, but before you could answer Dustin interjected once more.

“We know you didn’t kill Chrissy.” 

Eddie let go and stared at you, and then at Dustin.

“I don’t know what happened man, she just… She….” He collapsed onto the couch, head in his hands.

“I can explain everything. For Y/N too.”

“Just interjecting here, Y/N has a GUN? We’re just skimming past that?” Robin looked at you with wide eyes. Suddenly, you felt self conscious. 

“You would too if you went through everything she did.” Eddie held his head up and shot you a small smile, which you returned. Everyone accepted that answer pretty easily, like they forgot who you were, and the reminder just slapped them in the face.

After that you all gathered onto the sofa, you next to Eddie, holding his hand comfortingly. For whose comfort, yours or his, was up for debate though. There, you learned about the upside down, Will’s disappearance, Star Court, Eleven, Everything these kids had been through for the past 4 years. 

“So what now?” You spoke up, looking around the room.

“We need to gather more intel, in the meantime Eddie you need to hide.” Steve spoke, arms crossed, looking down at him. 

“I can stay here. Rick’s still in jail. No one comes here.” He muttered. 

“I’ll stay here too. Just for a bit.” You spoke up, giving Eddie's hand a squeeze. 

“We’ll be back later with supplies, and hopefully answers. Take this, and I swear to god don’t leave unless it’s life or death.” Dustin handed a walkie talkie over to you and followed the others out. Leaving you and Eddie.

THere was a beat of silence. The two of you were still gripping each other's hand. Eddie turned to you, eyes locked onto your conjoint hands, rubbing small circles into your knuckles. 

“I would’ve thought you’d have hightailed it already.” He smirked, earning a small laugh from you “Yanno, to see Heather.”

You shrugged “I thought about it. My Aunt made me call her, after we saw it on the news. I was gonna go right after I met up with Dustin, but after learning all that I think I have to stay.” 

“What, for little ol’ me?” He put his free hand to his heart, with a smile, you chuckled at his action.

“Of course Eddie. I’ve met monsters, you’re certainly not one. And there's no way in hell i'm letting anyone say you are.” Empathising your statement you gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled, and slowly looked down, mulling over what to say.

“You know… When it happened… All I thought about was you. I didn’t want you to think I did this, like… After all, you told me that I'd go and do something like that. A part of me knew you wouldn’t, but… It was terrifying.” 

“Eddie… I never doubted you. Sure the thought ran through my head, but I always go to the worst case scenario. I have to, usually my instincts are correct, and they were about you.” You put a hand to his cheek and gave him a smile when your eyes met. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Eddie basking in the touch of your soft hand. The two of you caught yourself leaning into each other, slowly. Your faces were just inches away, like either of you were afraid to move in first. Eddie took the lead, and placed a small, gentle kiss to your lips. 

Waiting till the others came back wouldn’t be boring. It never was when you and Eddie were together.

[callmehopeless]

If you're still accepting requests for the very awesome letter thing you're doing I'd love one from Clyde. She her pronouns for a lover. Something just sweet and nice like I'm just thinking of you thing because I'm under so much stress and depression something nice would be refreshing! Its been a few weeks since they've last seen each other

Sure am, pumpkin!

(This letter is written with scratchy handwriting on crinkled yellow paper. It smells of old books.)

My sweet darling,

Is there anything more beautiful than you? Not sure I’ve seen it if there is.

Too corny? Maybe.

I’ve been trying to get better at writing letters to you, so I’m giving it a red hot go. Know you’ve been struggling lately, and I can’t take the thought of you without that damn pretty smile.

I’ve been missing you like crazy. Jimmy says I look like I’m moping left and right, but I’m trying my best to keep going without you being around. Any chance of you coming by soon to see little me?

I don’t want to go hounding you if stuff’s tough right now. Just want you to know I miss you. And love you a lot. Too much, I reckon. But that’s what love is for, right?

I’m sending you every kiss in the world. And then add two on.

Love,

Clyde xx

[sematarygirls]

                 ୭ৎ rafe cameron works .ᐟ

   au's .ᐟ

   mechanic!rafe.

   cowboy!rafe.

   possessed!rafe.

   fics .ᐟ

   you and drummer!rafe get away with murder.

   serialkiller!rafe takes an interest in you.

   slasher!rafe x finalgirl!reader.

   ex-convict!babydaddy!rafe shows up unexpectedly.

   cowboy!rafe gives you a ride.

   boyfriend!rafe and anxious!reader's first time.

   killer!rafe and his best friend try murder.

   rafe is a fugitive and motelworker!reader doesn't care.

   boyfriend!rafe washes depressed!reader's hair.

   boyfriend!rafe sees anxious!reader's tramp stamp.

   drabbles, thoughts, &&. blurbs .ᐟ

   frat!rafe always tunes in when you're on the radio.

   rafe + anxious!reader headcanons.

   bodyshots with rafe.

   boyfriend!rafe helps academic!reader study.

   rafe + reader matching halloween costumes.

   boyfriend!rafe thinks academic!reader wants a baby.

   dancing around the kitchen with rafe.

   quickies with rafe are anything but quick.

   your husband is not who you thought he was.

   rafe loves your new lotions.

   just the tip w dbf!rafe.

   series .ᐟ

   salt &&. secrets . . . social media au.

         ↳ 01.  02.  03.  04.  05.  06.  07.  08.  09.  10.  11.  12.  13.  14.  15.  16.  17.  18.

   wounds that bind.    on hold.

         ↳ 01.  02.

   gone girl.

         ↳ 00.  01.  02.  03.  04.  05.  06.

   morphine animals.

         ↳ 0.1.  00.  01.

[familyvideostevie]

I have been saving this and I finally read it and I’m about to read it again and again and again and wow wow wow!!!! best friend Eddie fall in love with me NOW!!!! this is so soft I’m floating away ❣️😭

Letters to You (Eddie Munson x Reader)

summary: You’ve been trying to tell Eddie that you love him, but can never find the right words. Or, the story of you and Eddie, told through letters you’ve given each other. (wc 6.3k) 

warnings: swearing, kissing, miscommunication, they’re idiots in love, childhood friends-to-lovers, time skips between the past and the “present.”

a/n: this is my longest fic yet. I was originally going to write the whole fic in just a letter format, but that felt wrong for the story. My inbox is always open :)

masterlist

—–

You’ve been handing Eddie Munson your heart in the form of letters for as long as you can remember. 

From the very first time you interacted with the boy, you’ve been stitching little pieces of yourself into words, hoping he would finally see through the message on the page. That he would understand the one you’ve actually been telling him the whole time. 

That you loved him. Loved him in a different way than you did when you both were kids and you gave him that first note. 

You’ve been trying to tell him all summer. 

Keep reading

[slashingdisneypasta]

Freddy Krueger x FinalGirl!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You think its your boyfriend. Well, he's dead and it's not.

Warnings: Non-con kissing.

Tagging: @ghouletka , @gr4veyardg1rlv , @kawaistrawberry21 , @lady-love88 , @masqueradeball , @miss-understood , @slxsherwriter , @spookiifi , and @thecourtofgraywaves .

When your eyes fall on him, his soft brown eyes and his crumpled band t-shirt waiting for you just outside of class, you feel happiness bubble up in you and a beam spread across your face.

"'M here to pick you up sweetheart- you ready to go?"

Before he can even get his keys out of his camo pants you've thrown your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. "I missed you!"

"Bunny- I appreciate the warm welcome but I dropped you off this morning! You okay??" He sounds baffled, and a little amused, but he drops the pursuit for his car keys and rubs your back instead; making you sigh. His hand lands on your hip then, and squeezes, and you press your face more firmly into his shoulder. You missed him so much.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Love you."

"Heh... I love you, too."

After a moment, you pull back and look at him. That ruffled hair, that sharp jaw, those happy eyes. You don't notice the slightly off-kilter way he's standing; his left shoulder dropped ever-so-slightly- or you ignore it.

It feels so real. It's gotta be real. You swear, that it's real.

Gently you lean up and press your lips to his, feeling his kiss for the first time, since-

God it feels so so real. He melts into it, pressing his mouth so softly-firmly against yours that your head goes fuzzy and fizzy. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, under some discarded papers, there's a part of you telling you it can't be, though. That this doesn't taste like him, that he's not wearing his usual cologne. That you're not kissing him right now, it's impossible, because he's-

But you don't listen. It's totally real, you think, tilting your head and wrapping your arms more snuggly around his neck. It's real, it's real, it's real, you chant in your head.

You missed him so much, you can feel it in your bones. The relief at having him here against you again makes you ache and feel better then you have in days, since he went to sleep and he was- since he went to sleep and the next morning, he was found-

Again, your thoughts stop just before they can finish. They fight to get through, but you... You almost don't want to finish them. A part of you knows what's going to happen when you realise, a heartbroken part of you aching dully inside.

Slowly the hand on your hip grows out, the fingers stretching longer and getting sharper. You hear it like a sword coming unsheathed and you feel blades sliding against your hip.

But you keep kissing him; theirs a desperation, now. A need to hold on, to keep him. Him; Your highschool boyfriend. The one you survived elm street with that first time in your senior year. Who you broke up with in your first year of college because the work load was too hard. Who you found, again, a year later. Who Freddy finally, after 3 years home-safe, kil-

The feeling of the brim of a hat, soft and warn, grazing your forehead.

Right now this is him. This is your. him. You don't wanna let go, you know something's wrong here, so so wrong, but you're so heartbroken and so hurt you cant let go-

You don't want him to go, again- you just got him back!-

Polyester turns to wool under your touch as he suddenly deepens the kiss, forcing your lips open wider. His tongue grows out longer down your throat, and-

You choke, the spell broken and reality crashing down around you as you realise the wolf in sheep clothing that you're kissing. Eyes opening, you use one forearm to shove Freddy off of you- and he's smirking and leering like a goblin at you as you trip back onto your ass; covering your mouth. Tears grow in your eyes from choking on his horrible tongue and also remembering that your boyfriend is dead.

He's dead. And Freddy's back again. And you're in a nightmare that never ever fucking ends.

"What's the matter there, princess, you wanted me pretty bad a second ago~ "

"You evil, evil freak." Tears overflow, filling up your furious eyes and then bubbling over onto your scowling cheeks; holding yourself up with the heel of one hand digging into the boiler room floor behind you. The other still covers your warm, tingling lips.

With a too-pleased grin, Freddy takes off his hat and does a deep bow in front of you, holding his hat to his chest like some kind of gentleman magician. "... oh you're too kind~ "

[ghostlycod]

okay so i actually have been working on something and it’s turning this post into an actual fic, this is my first one so please enjoy

slasher!ghost x finalgirl!reader

you’re the final girl in the horror movie, and ghost’s the killer that’s been picking off your group one at a time. now it’s just him and you.

part 1

NSFW;MDNI

cw: MAJOR DUBCON/NONCON. don’t read it if you don’t like it, murder, blood, dead bodies, body mutilation (it’s not that bad), violence, ghost trying to kill reader, reader trying to kill ghost back, there will be smut I just couldn’t get to it in this part

They say when you have anxiety that you should count your senses. This is supposed to help you calm down and ground yourself. What’s one thing you can you see? One thing you can hear? One thing you can smell?

Drip, drip.

A single sound. Breathe in and out in time with the smooth splatter of the droplets.

Drip, drip. Breathe in. Drip, drip. Breathe out.

It’s dark in this ramshackle shed you’ve found refuge in. The cloudy night sky bleeding in from the small window does nothing to help illuminate the room. You can hardly make out the details of the source of the slowly dripping fluid, but you know that it’s there. The butchered body of your friend, strung up to the ceiling like swine. Carved up and cut open at the throat.

Drip. Drip. Breathe in.

His corpse reeks of iron and woods and death. You probably don’t smell too great either. The woods you’ve been running in cling to you to, along with the stench of your sweat and your fear. You lay still, cowering beneath a table, because that was the best hiding spot you could come up with in your frenzy.

Drip. Drip. Breathe out.

He’s been bled nearly dry now. His blood runs down his body in a black, faltering stream that ends as it coalesces into a teardrop on the tip of his white shoes, heavy and pregnant before it falls, shooting to the ground like a meteor racing towards earth.

Drip. Drip. Breathe in.

The only world that’s left to hit is yours, and you feel your life is ending with every sickening drop onto the sloppy wooden floorboards.

Drip. Drip. Breathe out.

You are an island now. Alone. No other masses of bodies to cower behind. No other sheep in the flock, no one more injured than you to sacrifice to the wolf.

“I don’t have to run the fastest, I just have to run faster than you.”

That’s what your friend, currently preoccupied with the flood of his bodily fluids onto the floor, had said to you in a moment of desperation. How’d that turn out for him?

He was no hero, and there’s no one left to save you now anyway. The psycho hunting you and your group on your little lakeside cabin getaway had saved you for the last lovely little morsel. So, just you now. You and him.

The silence of the shed snaps when the floorboards creak.

You gasp and immediately regret it.

From your vantage point underneath the flimsy table, you can see dark leather boots in the corner of the room, caked in mud and grass and other things you don’t even want to think about. You watch as those boots softly tread across the floor, making their way closer to you, the leather softly squeaking with the stress of movement.

Drip, drip.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He’s looking for you. Stop breathing so loud.

Drip, drip.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You didn’t even hear him open the door. How long has he been in here?

Drip, drip.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His feet stop only a step away from your pathetic hiding spot, boots squelching as he stands in the pool of blood.

Drip, drip.

Breathe in-

“Birdie…” His voice is as smooth as a fork in the garbage disposal. You feel it reverberate from his body, through the soaked floorboards, all the way down to you as it tingles up your spine.

“I know you’re in ‘ere, bird.”

Run.

[bioodorange]

predator and prey -> Slasher! EJ x FinalGirl!Reader (preview)

this is the first few words only! i have the rest outlined and wasn't sure if you guys would like me to continue it or not!!

CW!! uh not much so far, slight degradation if you squint, size difference

and GN reader as usual besides one mention of a "final girl"

Please tell me what you think and if I ya wanna see another part

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!! MDNI

No one likes feeling afraid.

The relentless trembling of your body, the sticky feeling of your skin being covered with sweat.

You may even cry, tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision.

It gets hard to see, hard to breathe and everything feels impossible.

Especially survival. 

People aren’t meant to be hunted like animals

Yet here you were

Running frantically through the woods as if you were something’s prey

You were the last one left, the last person alive and the only one still fighting.

A dull ache ran through your body, you yearned for a break. The only thing keeping you going was the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You needed to survive.

However, exhaustion was beginning to weigh on you. Lungs burning with every breath became harder and harder to breathe.

You began to slow down, body swaying as you tried to carry on, but you couldn’t.

Your skin burned as it scraped against the coarse forest floor. Blood peaked through small cuts on your palms and cheeks, dribbling out as you gazed down at your hands. 

Fuck!

You were the fucking final girl god damnit! You-

You couldn’t help the gasp of fear that escaped your lips as you looked up, emotions flickering between shock and fear. 

Towering above you, was the damned man himself- if you could even call him that.

He barely registered as human in your mind. 

He hardly even looked the part. 

He was unnaturally big, even when you weren’t curled up on the ground, bordering on 7 feet tall.

Nearly every inch of his skin was covered, the only thing you could make out was the ashy tone of his neck from beneath his hood.

His face was completely obscured by an expressionless, blue mask. 

The only thing human about him was the tufts of curly, dark hair that escaped his hood.

How he got so close without you noticing? You would never know.

“Go to hell!” You hissed at him, glaring into the empty voids of his mask.

His chest rumbled he had hummed- no laughed in amusement.

Silently he crouched down, his figure somehow still towering over yours.

You gritted your teeth, pressing your blooded palms into the dirt in an attempt to push yourself away from him.

In return, he leaned in closer, masked face now mere inches from yours. 

“Don’t run.” he chastised, hand reaching out to snatch up one of your wrists, pulling you back towards him with a swift tug.

His height forced him to lean in slightly to make eye contact, his broad shoulders blocking everything else from view.

All you could see was him.

“There’s no use in it, I’m only going to catch you again, you might as well behave.”

Your heart beat out of your chest, body shaking in his grasp. Like hell you were going to behave.

With your last bit of energy, you forced your knee up between the two of you and pushed, hoping it would create some distance.

For one glorious moment it worked, a glimpse of the starry night sky peaked in your vision as you fell back onto the forest floor- but the man came with you.

With a grunt, he landed ontop of you, caging your small body between his large frame and the ground.

It was only now that it dawned on you how big he was.

The upper half of his body almost covered yours entirely, one of his hands easily held both of your wrists pinned above your head.

You swallowed dryly, feeling a wave of heat rush through you-

You hoped to god it was simply a survival instinct, your adrenaline kicking in.

“I--”

“It’s like your begging me to hurt you.” he hummed, deep voice cutting off your own.

He leaned in again, body hovering over yours as he spoke again

“I think we could both use a break, don’t you?”

[therealrosebuddies]

Good Red, Bad Red

Part three of What’s Love Got to Do with It?

Steve Harrington x Babysitter!Reader (maybe soon to be FinalGirl!Reader)

Desc:  Well, Steve and babysitter!reader have finally made it to Starcourt. All they need is a dress and between the two of them, that shouldn't be that hard. That is, as long as they don't bump into any one they hate. That would be terrible.

Notes: (sorry haha) Hi, thanks again for the support on this fic, I really, really appreciate it. Also, in the flashback, the POV gets a little wonky, and I wanted to apologize for that. I'll probably fix it later, but I'm tired and I wanted to get this chapter out! It really helps to connect these upcoming parts, so I'm excited to keep laying the ground work. Also, I may start releasing separate smaller one shots for this version of Stranger things, ones connected to this story. idk though haha

warnings: violence, character jumpscare

(set between season 2 and 3!)

Part 1 Part 2

read on ao3

Breathing in the smell of soft pretzels and a clean waxed floor, Steve decided that he liked this new mall. Of course, it wasn’t just because of the smell- that would’ve been weird. No. it was the throngs of people that littered the three huge floors, the bright shapes and colors that battled for his attention. It was a far shot from what Hawkins usually was and he liked it.

He glanced back to look for you, realizing that his thoughts were directly contrasting yours.

Pressing closer than you usually cared to, you almost clung to the back of Steve’s jacket, head on a swivel. While he was excited by the mass hysteria that was Starcourt- you eyed the crowd warily, as if any one of them was going to jump you. You were acting like a skittish, traumatized baby deer, and he was the park ranger ushering you to safety.

It was quite the change of pace from how your dynamic usually went.

(Most times, he was still attempting to be a park ranger and you acted like his smarter, more competent boss.)

“How’re you doing back there Chief?” He asked, making his way toward the escalator.

You repressed a sigh, elbowing past a group of teenagers with a wrinkled nose and brow. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Steve stepped onto the revolving steps, turning to watch your feet as they followed.

“No.” Answering distantly, you place a hand on the railing, head tipping up to take in the bright signs and gaping skylight. “I just like being able to get places without…” you trailed off, jaw clenched. “…without much in the way.”

Steve’s eyes widened as he fully faced you, both hands on the railing. “Do you really think of people as things in your way?” He asked, flabbergasted.

“No!” You insisted, voice high and head-shaking rapidly as you tried to dissuade him. “No- I just… I’m used to having a plan for everything I do. And my stupid little unconscious ideas don’t usually include dodging and weaving! I just don’t like the extra-”

“Oh my god. You’re like my old next door neighbor.” He breathed, twisting his body so he was looking half at you and half at the approaching end of the escalator. “He throws things at kids as they run over his lawn.”

You gaped at him as he jumped off the escalator. “I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.” You hissed, pushing forward in an attempt to get away from him. He watched you walk past, glancing fervently around the second floor. He smirked, waiting patiently for you to turn around. He knew you were more stubborn than you liked to admit, but also knew that you hated providing evidence for that stubbornness. Which is why he stood there with a smirk, watching as you slowly turned to face him.

“Which way is it?”

Steve shrugged, rubbing his face like it was the greatest mystery in the world. You rolled your eyes at him, brows low. He just walked over to you, gesturing ahead with his hands. This way, he could still lead the way and force you to tag along right next to him. And despite your little made-up plans, you followed after, complying with his actions.

Only a few minutes pass as the two of you walk together, Steve’s head snapping back and forth to make sure he was actually leading you in the right direction. Heaven forbid if he wasn’t. Then, as he was passing a flashy athletic shoe store, you got a little distracted.

He feels more than sees you leave his side. Steve turns, neck twisting this way and that. Despite your hesitation in this place, you sure didn’t seem too nervous enough to drift into the crowd. Luckily, he caught sight of you before the annoyance took root. You had slowed to a stop next to one of the displays, transfixed by the scene inside.

A girl was standing on a pedestal, dressed in a bright white gown. She twirled hesitantly in the dress, looking at herself in the multifaceted, full-length mirror. You stood with an unreadable expression, fingertips ghosting across the glass. Your eyes, normally fire bright and present, were distant and soft, lids low. There was a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You had left him by accident, and were now a million miles away, somewhere deep in that head of yours. Steve looked quickly between you and the crème-colored shop, connecting the dots.

“You know, I didn’t take you for the wedding type of girl.” He tells you, unaware of the way it sounded. The expression that crossed over your face dunked Steve’s nerves in ice.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You inquired as you snapped out of your quiet reverie, eyes narrowing sharply. “You don’t think I’m good enough to marry?”

“No!” He refuted immediately, “No, of course not- you… you’re great! Any guy would be lucky to land you!”

Your narrowed eyes softened slightly and pulled away from him, back into the store. But that distant look was gone- overtaken by your usual blazing alertness.

“I just…” Steve continued cautiously, hoping not to stick his foot right back into his mouth. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would stop and stare into a boutique window.”

“I have my layers.” Your eyes drift slowly from the store as you take a step back. He follows, eyes trained on the way your head bobbed as you spoke. “I can manufacture a mean flamethrower and plan a wedding- they’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Okay, well for now, we aren’t here to plan for your future wedding. We’re here for Prom.” He reminded you, feeling like he needed to really stress the importance of this dance. If you could be that transfixed by a wedding dress- how hard would it be to get you excited about these ones? And, the more excited you were, the more painless it would be for the both of you.

And he needed that night to be as painless as possible.

He suddenly felt your gaze on him, burning mischievously behind innocent lashes.

“You know, with the way you talk about it, I think you’d be someone who’s planning their wedding right now.” You prodded, voice bouncy as you bumped his arm with yours. The sly little smirk that stretched your mouth was covering something- some kind of hidden motive. The thought of you trying to dig for something- some other hidden reason of his- inflated his ego. Instead of ignoring or tolerating him- you were actively trying to pull him apart like a Rubix cube. And if he was being honest- it was fun.

Playing along, Steve looked at you and shrugged, cocking his head left then right, making a show of contemplation, his eyes squinted. Your mouth popped open, brows shooting up.

“Wait- have you?”

“No! I mean, I’ve definitely thought about it.” He admitted, saying much more than he let on. If he was telling the whole truth, he'd done a lot more than thinking about it. Honestly, it was a dream of his- a life goal. He wanted the wedding, the house, the kids, and the steady job. Everything that came with it. The wedding was just part of it. Well...That, and a wedding included being legally bound to someone who really, really loved you. He wanted that kind of life- badly. He wasn’t going to tell you all that of course, not if he didn’t want to look insane. “But not to the extent of you know, what type of flowers would be on the tables or who would actually be invited.”

“Oh my god.” You breathe and Steve turns at your much less giggly voice. You’re looking up at him with a slack jaw, fingers pressing against your cheek and grazing your lips “You’re a total sap.” You laugh, the sound jumping out of your throat as you drop the hand.

“Hey! Don’t laugh.” He hisses, face burning as he's sure it starts to turn pink. Why’d he even admit that anyway? Was it just because he wanted to relate to you? Was it because he wanted you to feel comfortable? Or was it just because of the soft, easy way his words seemed to tumble out of his mouth when you were around? Either way, he was starting to regret it. He shook his hand and pointed it at you, vying for reclamation of his dignity. “You’re gonna want to cut that shit out if I’m going to be paying for both the tickets-”

“Steve- it’s not a date. I already told you that I can-” You stop in your tracks, mouth snapping shut. For a moment, Steve wonders if it’s another bridal boutique.

And then he sees what you do.

And his nose aches to think about the last time he had been this close to Billy Hargrove.

 *****************************************

 It was a few days after Halloween, only thirty minutes after the rest of the team had left to take care of their separate missions- and Steve’s group was left at the house.

That lucky group included you.

And you weren’t happy about it.

You had been literally benched by Hopper, grounded after you had voluntarily driven his adopted daughter off of his secret property. From what he could gather, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing you had done. But that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed about being left at the Byer’s house.

And now, there was this.

Between the two of you, Steve had assumed you were the smart one.

But oh my god, he had been so wrong.

Instead of dissuading the kids from their stupid, reckless plans to distract those weird dog things, you were agreeing with them. It was driving him crazy, watching you scramble around the house with them, trying to decipher away to fight an all-powerful interdimensional being. What were you guys even going to do? Hit it with Lucas' dinky little slingshot?

But honestly, he should've been prepared for your strange behavior. He should’ve known you'd be on board the second you showed up that night, freshly decked out in your all-black outfit, a shadowy specter cloaked in leather and Demodog blood. Oh- and Eleven, who most everyone thought had died about a year ago.

The biggest red flag should’ve been your makeshift flamethrower, a dangerous combination of hairspray and a tiny pink lighter. It was terrifying to see the distance between your fingers and the roaring flames.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t considered any of that.

You were standing next to the kids, staring over Dustin’s shoulder at the weird, pasted map. A flicker of excitement was blazing in your kohl-lined eyes, as if an unseen plan connected in your brain. “We can take my car. I still have an extra lighter left over-”

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Steve exclaimed, clapping loud enough that he finally tore your attention away from the quickly spiraling plan. The blaze faltered, your head snapping towards him questioningly “This is not happening.”

“But-”

“No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe- we promised-'' Steve looked pointedly at you, swathed in your unfamiliar cloud of coal, really trying to convince Dracula rather than the kids. If there were two ‘babysitters’ saying no, there was a much higher chance of nobody dying. You just stared at him blankly as he continued. “-and that’s exactly what I plan on doing. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

You shook your head slightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Steve, if we can help at all-”

“I said, does everybody understand that?” Steve repeated loudly, no longer asking. You stared up at him as something changed in your pointed, blown wide pupils, your stained lips forming a silent ‘o’. Your gaze flickered across his figure before you looked at the kids- and they looked at you. Once again, they were referring to your reaction, your judgment of the scenario.

He would’ve been mad about it if he hadn’t been wanting to do the exact same thing.

“I’m going alone then.” You decided, arms folding defiantly as Steve pinned you with an unbelieving look. All he was asking for was one thing. One.

You were being difficult on purpose- he was sure of it.

Yelps of resistance rose up from everyone else in the room as you placed your hands on your hips, mirroring Steve in his posture. Eyes narrowing up at him, you stood as an unwavering point of night in the yellow seeped house. You were intimidating for someone your size- but Steve didn’t care. He wasn’t letting anyone be stupid on his watch- and that included you.

“Like hell you’re-”

That’s when the loud roar of a car rips through the night, stopping all of the commotion to a dead halt. Max rushes to the window and her round pink face grows pale, blue eyes clouding over. “That’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

For a tense moment, no one moves, the sound of tearing gasoline flooding the air with anxiety. Steve looks at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. He wanted to make sure you weren’t going to run out the back door and head off on your own. But you’re just staring out the window, attention firmly set on the dark Camaro. It didn’t look like you would be moving any time soon- not with Billy Hargrove posted up in the driveway.

Steve looked at the rag-tag group, a lump hardening in his throat. He knew you were a capable person- he did. You and El had literally just taken on a pack of Demodogs- so he couldn’t rationalize that you weren’t able to take care of yourself- or the kids.

But this was a fragile situation. He wasn’t sure what Hargrove was capable of- but he didn’t want to find out.

“Everyone stay here.” Steve ordered.

You moved to follow him, pent-up emotion roaring beneath your gaze.

“Hey. No- stay with the kids.”

“Steve.”

“I’ve got this,” he assured you, pointing back at the kids on the couch. “If a Demogorgon comes in, use that can of hairspray you love so much.” Plastering a smirk across his face in an attempt to loosen your tight fists, he turned toward the door and let the cold November air swallow him up.

He could handle this. The fewer people he had to worry about, the better. As long as everyone was inside, he just needed to scare Hargrove off.

Piece of cake.

He stood expectantly at the foot of the porch, dread grinding his stomach as the reckless driver kicked open his door. Steve could smell his cigarette from there, the smoke announcing his presence.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?”

“Yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants.” Steve said, trying to move the whole thing along. He didn’t have time to put up any resistance to his shitty attitude.

And for a minute or two, Steve thought it was going well. Maybe he had it handled enough that your little group would leave this night without a scratch.

And then Billy saw the kids- and you- in the window.

Steve should’ve known it was going to come to blows. Or at least, he should’ve been ready for it, or thrown the first punch. If he had, the guy wouldn’t have been able to stomp up to the door and smash it open, coming face to face with you.

Steve groaned on the ground as Billy stomped past him, beating you to the door before you could lock it. The door slammed, sounding far away as Steve tried not to throw up across the grass.

While he did so, you had other problems.

Billy had taken one step inside the house and was looking at your little group like it was something to eat. His eyes eventually landed on you, planted firmly between him and the kids. He let out a short laugh, teeth sharp.

“Hey Gatekeeper, you in on this with Harrington?”

You kept your jaw clenched, unfazed by his jab at your Halloween costume. The Halloween costume that you had worn for the very kids behind you. The kids that were relying on you to keep them safe, some even gripping the edges of your jacket on reflex.

The act made your heart heavy, fists clenching as you stared down the teen goliath before you. If he thought he was going to get a chance to even yell at one of them, he was dead wrong.

You decide not to indulge him, face stony.

A stitch of silence passes and Billy shifts his eyes off of you- and onto Lucas.

“Sinclair.” You stretch your hand out a little farther, hovering close to Hargrove’s next target.

He makes a purposeful lunge in Lucas’s direction and you seem to make up your mind, launching forward without fear. The contact is fast- and the sound is immediate. It was like watching a forest fire colliding with a mountain. Your hand snaps out at a speed and ferocity that only the last year and a half would have given you, striking across his face like lightning across the sky. The rings that you had acquired from your recent makeover shine black on your retreating hand, explaining the fresh split in Billy’s lips. He stares at you in momentary surprise, eyes flaming as he realized what you had done.

“Okay.” He muttered, wiping the bright, sluggish blood from his growing smirk. “You first then.”

He’s on you before you can stop him, rough hands digging into your collar. You’re drug backward by pure force, sneakers dragging against the floor. You hear the kids screaming. The struggle you put up barely has any effect as Billy slams you up into a cabinet.

You honestly should’ve thought this one through a little more. He was bigger than you- and he wasn’t some kind of Demogorgon that you could light on fire. He was a human. A giant, hulking, insane human- but a guy nonetheless. If you really wanted to take him on, you needed something that was going to really hurt him- even kill him.

And you don’t think you were ready for that- physically or mentally.

The world is spinning and your head rings, reeling from the impact. Your hands fumble for purchase as he pushes into you, burning hot knuckles bruising your collarbone. He’s looking at you like you were the one who was doing this- like you were the one who deserved to get thrown into the looney bin.

“You do that again and I’m going to make sure the next place you end up is a hospital.”

You ignore his threat as you glare up at him, contempt rolling behind closed lips. He was stronger than you- there was no arguing that point. But you’d be damned before you let this guy get anywhere near those kids. As soon as he felt finished with you, he’d go straight for Lucas.

That wasn’t going to happen.

You push out your neck and sink your teeth into one of his thumbs.

Billy drops you with a scream. Falling to your knees, you scramble away, head reeling and lips smeared with blood. You hadn’t hit bone- but you know you had made a dent. The taste fills your mouth, warm and metallic. You didn’t like it. And if you didn’t get away from Billy now, you’d be tasting more of it pretty soon. That thought was enough to push you toward the table, head ringing. But before you can lift back up, one of your ankles is yanked backward, slamming you back to the ground.

There isn’t time to brace for the impact. Your jaw connects hard with the wood and stars explode across your vision. A noise squeezes through your clenched teeth. You hear a strangled laugh pierce through the blended shouts for your safety as you’re drug back across the floor. You move to fight back, but a hand fists itself in your hair, slamming your face straight into the hardwood.

Pain explodes through your nose, eyes pricking with tears. Before you can even react, you’re being raised to your knees, yanked up by the hold on your hair.

“You know what? I take it back. We aren’t going to need a hospital tonight.” Billy threatens, pointing at you with the hand you had tried to take a bite of. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you probably would’ve laughed at his bloody finger. His grip on your hair grows tighter. “You’re dead.”

And honestly, you might have been. You might have gone out against a sociopathic musclehead, splattered against the Byer’s kitchen floor.

But then you catch sight of a familiar mop of brown hair over Billy's shoulder, and your heart performs a weak jumping jack. You struggled against your aggressor's grip, keeping his eyes on you.

Steve had managed to make his way back into the house. He had stopped momentarily at the sight in the kitchen, panic shooting through his veins the way he imagined heroin would. Your limp figure was just barely visible behind Billy’s and he couldn’t see what was happening. He couldn’t see you.

Steve blinked out of his momentary hesitation and rushed forward, pushing Billy hard in the back. You dropped out of his grip, hands barely planting before you hit the ground.

Hargrove turned with wide eyes, coming face to face with Steve, a savior in blue denim.

“No. You are.”

For the second time that night, Billy was struck across the face, Steve’s fist just barely missing the spot where you had slapped him. He watched, stone-faced as Billy stumbled away, a bone-chilling cackle rising up from his throat. Steve stole a glance at you, pushing away slowly from off the floor, nose dripping with darkened blood. Dustin and Max were pulling you away from the scene, coaxing you back from the danger.

For now, you were out of harm's way.

If he had gotten there sooner, you wouldn’t have had to be in it in the first place. Your blood wouldn’t have been smeared across the hardwood floor, dark against the dinky yellow lights of the house.

Billy pointed at Steve, pulling his attention back to him. “Look’s like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” He taunted, smile full of teeth and half insane. He stepped forward as he pushed his hair out of his face, eye to eye with Steve. "I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about.”

Despite how much he wanted to kick his ass, Steve knew they had bigger problems to deal with. The sooner they got rid of Billy, the better. He was wasting their time, and he wanted him gone. “Get out,” Steve ordered simply, contempt straining against his steady words. He didn’t want to waste more breath on this guy than he had to.

And apparently, Billy felt the same way. At this point, words were useless.

Which is probably why he swung at him.

And for a while, Steve was doing pretty good. He landed a few punches and kept his head down and for a few moments, it seemed like the two guys were on common ground.

That was, until Billy smashed him overhead with a plate.

That was when everything went downhill.

Steve had ended up with his back against the floor, mirroring your situation a few minutes earlier- except he was getting punched over, and over, and over. The contact rained down repeatedly, his face beginning to feel like a tenderized piece of meat. He probably would’ve been a goner if you hadn’t keyed Max onto the syringe next to you. She had plunged it into his neck without so much a flinch, injecting him with the strange tranquilizer.

Everything sounded underwater as Steve lay on the floor, lights dancing across his eyes. He only really registered what was happening when you appeared over his head a few minutes later, head haloed by the yellow light.

“Hey.” You slapped his face lightly, Steve barely feeling it. “Hey, Steve, you need to stay awake. I think you’re going to have a concussion.” You informed him, hands now planting firmly on his shoulders and shaking. But his head felt like cement. Even if he had understood a single word you had said, nothing but a groan would have passed his swollen, bloodied lips. “Come on. You did pretty good. If he hadn’t had the plate, my money would’ve been on you.”

You were lying, but he appreciated it anyway, even through the fog.

Steve spit up a weak chuckle and you flinched, dodging the spray of blood. “Sorry.” he mumbled between split, swelling lips, trailing your movements as you pushed up his coated, sticky bangs. Your hand was warm.

He wondered if you were always this warm.

In the back of his punch-drunk brain, he registered the jangling of keys and pieces of the conversation between you and the kids. He’d feel you shake him every few moments, right as his vision would start to fuzz, growing black at the edges. Eventually, you were pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him out of his steadily growing puddle, hands and face streaked in red.

“Steve…” you sounded far away. “We need to go. And we can’t leave you here… not with all this blood…” He watched your lips move but didn’t really understand what you were saying. Go where? And why did the blood factor into his need to tag along?

When he didn’t respond, you just sighed, a strange sort of pity hanging across your face. He blinked lazily, watching as you turned away from him, obviously talking to the kids. He would’ve liked to hear what you were saying, but it was too late for him then.

He had already begun drifting off.

 ********

 “Huh. I see you took my advice.” Billy called out, stopping the both of you in your tracks. He was standing a few feet away from you, accompanied by some of his block-head cronies and rim-lit by the turquoise lights of a nearby store. Pushing away from the pillar he leaned against, he began walking towards you, smile dangerous.

Usually, Billy stayed out of Steve’s way. After last October, he had seemed to give everyone Max was friends with a wide berth, holding fast to his promise. Steve didn’t think he would be the type of guy to honor a sister’s wish, but so far it had looked that way. Until now, it seemed.

He hopped down the two small stairs, hands dug deep in his pockets as he came to stand right in the way. Steve would’ve groaned if he hadn’t known better. Billy’s razor-sharp gaze flickered your way as Steve felt the weight of you at his side. He almost sneered, a hand twitching reflexively, as if cowering before your bared teeth. “And look at that- it’s Max’s new mommy.” he looked at Steve. “That must make you Dad huh?”

“We’re friends.” You answer, harsh and hatefully hot. Steve realizes then that as much as you like to argue with him, he was nowhere close to the level of dislike you had for Billy. You looked at the leather-bound prick in front of you like he was a Demogorgon. Not a human- a monster that you needed to get rid of. In your hate, you beat Steve to the punch, poison dripping from your tongue. “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

Billy tilted his head at you, pink lips curling over blinding fangs.

“I forgot you were the ones with the balls in this relationship.” His gaze tracked you up and down, a little huff leaving his mouth. “Did you have fun cleaning up after me and your little boyfriend?

This time, you didn’t flinch.

“Not as much as kicking in your nose.”

Oh. Yeah, Steve had forgotten about that.

Before you had left the house that night, and even before you had gotten him in the car, you had recruited Max and Lucas to help drag Billy out to the garbage. The literal garbage. The three of you had left him propped up against one of the cans, keys dropped into his lap. As little as you had wanted to help him out, you had wanted him gone as soon as you could.

Then, after Max had gone back inside, you kicked him square in the nose.

You had thought it poetic- and payback for you and Steve’s matching injuries.

Billy let out a terse little chuckle, strain rolling in his darkening eyes. Steve had been ready to jump in, to say anything. But you had beat him to it- reminding Billy exactly why he had been staying away for the last few months. When it came back down to it, you were all friends- and shared a deep dislike for Billy, one that went deep enough to cause violence. So if he ever tried something, he knew there were plenty of people waiting to get back at him in return.

Steve was one of those people. If it ever came to a head like that again, he wouldn’t be going down this time. Especially not when there were no plates around.

Air tense, Steve tore his gaze from your rocksteady stance, ready to back you up. If trading insults was the agenda today, he could do that with you.

But that’s when he saw it.

While you absolutely loathed Billy- he found you entertaining.

It was the searing heat in his eyes as he had looked up and down, smirking close-mouthed and taunting. He had been much too pleased by you jumping into the conversation, forcing yourself between himself and Steve. He had seen this look before. It was the one guys would throw at each other after passing a girl on the street- or talking about someone in the locker room.

The flash of panic hit Steve in the chest, throat closing up like a crushed coke can.

He didn’t deserve to look at you like that- he didn’t deserve to look at you in any way besides apologetically. From like- the bottom of a six-foot grave that the two of you had dug.

Or something like that.

Either way, he wasn’t going to get to be around you anymore. From what Steve was gathering, Billy wanted you to take a bite out of him.

But you didn’t seem to realize this- probably focused on every way you’d like to hurt the mulleted barf bag in front of you.

Steve took a chance and caught your shoulder. “Okay, back up.” He advised, coaxing you back as Billy leared closer. Luckily for him, you didn’t fight back, letting him step in front of you. If he hadn’t, you probably would’ve lasted a few more moments before trying to tear into him. Billy scoffed, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from you before stabbing them into Steve.

“Yeah. Put that new bitch of yours on a leash.”

The rush of anger that punched through his throat came so fast and so hard that it almost knocked him off his feet.

Okay.

Maybe you couldn’t do anything violent.

But Steve hadn’t made any promises about himself.

He pushed forward, intent on getting Billy to apologize. Whether it was through words or fists, he wasn’t really sure. But before he could even open his mouth, a toddler burst between the two men, laughing maniacally. Following quickly after was his mother, offering quick apologies after she raced past.

Steve looked at the gap caused by the interruption, blood quieting in his ears. Whatever tension was there before had snapped, dissolving into the commercialized air. Billy seemed to figure that out too. He looked up at Steve, blue eyes narrow before relaxing into a cocky nonchalance. The guy threw his arms out wide, shrugging at himself- as if daring Steve to resume what he started. He was trying to make it look like he was inviting a fight- like he wasn’t concerned about the aftermath it would bring.

Luckily, Steve knew better.

And, he had an errand to run.

He let out a dry chuckle, nudging the back of your jacket. “Let’s get out of here. We’re wasting our time.”

You nodded, never keeping your eyes off of Billy. Steve held his tongue, knowing he couldn’t tell you to stop glaring. That would just open up a whole can of worms.

Hargrove watched as the two of you passed, smirk unflinching even as Steve turned his back. He could feel the burning sensation as you walked away, drilling into his back. And then it was gone, replaced by the carefully controlled air conditioning of the mall.

“God, that guy is a dick.” You groaned, knocking Steve out of his paranoid thoughts.

“I dunno, I think he was pretty pleasant,” He tried joking, the words feeling forced on his tongue. He grimaced at that, annoyed that he still felt Billy’s presence. He swallowed, trying to banish the dry scratchiness in his throat. ”But in all seriousness, I was worried he was going to swing at you.”

“Aw, you were worried about me?” You asked, the pitch of your voice rising in mock flattery.

Steve just blanched at your funny, but clueless reaction. “Yeah. I was a little bit worried about you. I mean, you were the one who almost bit his finger off.” He answered, completely honest. “I thought I was going to have get another concussion.”

“Defending my honor?”

“Saving your scrappy ass.” Steve corrected, smothering the brief moment of vulnerability a few seconds earlier, hoping his humor did the job. You hadn’t seemed to notice his admission, but he just wanted to make sure.

He didn’t need you getting any ideas.

You laughed, and the tension left in his shoulders evaporated. Whatever had just occurred minutes earlier- or even months ago- was now completely out of your head, replaced by his own clever jokes. He would’ve patted himself on the back if it hadn’t made him look stupid.

The remaining walk to the store was short, filled with relative silence or little comments on items that stuck out in the windows. By the time you made it, Steve had five more solid reasons why he liked the mall.

Stepping into the department store, Steve was immediately hit by the flowery perfume, face scrunching.

“Dress first?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you drifted over to one of the display racks, fingers ghosting over the fabric. Steve shook his head, mostly to get rid of his reaction to the perfume and partly to answer.

“No. I already have a suit.” He answered easily, still focused on taking in the advertisements and strange decorations.

You spun on him, dress quickly forgotten. “ You already have a suit? Then what are we matching with?”

“The tie and the corsage.” Steve answered easily, passing you and heading over to what he thought was formal wear. You stared at him, for a moment refusing to move. He looked over his shoulder at you, miming confusion. “You coming or not?”

“I can’t believe-” You stared, but quickly cut yourself off, eyes closed as you took a deep breath through your nose. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” you decided, eyes flashing open to stare at him. “If we aren’t looking for a suit, you’re going to be at my every beck and call.”

Steve had just laughed at that, unaware of how serious you had been.

You made good on your promise, quickly getting the gist of the department store before he did. You swept through the isles quickly, grabbing dress after dress. He followed your lead, throwing in a few of the dresses you had passed by. If he was going to be here, he might as well join in on the fun. He preferred the ones with lots and lots of sequins. You hated them. Around thirty minutes later, the cart Steve pushed was piled high, threatening to topple over.

Conceding the need to empty the cart, the two of you found the dressing rooms, connected to a wide, mirror-lined hallway. Steve stopped the cart in one of the first open rooms, watching as you disappeared behind a curtain.

The first dress you tried on was a disaster. It had been one of the ones Steve had pulled- the one with huge, arcing frills that seemed to make up the straps. He had seen plenty in the store like that- so he had just assumed it was what girls were wearing to prom. He didn’t claim to know much, but he could see all of the mannequins and the other girls in the store carrying dresses around that were just like it.

But when he threw it over the dressing room door, all he heard was a groan.

“No way.”

“What?!” Steve asked, genuinely confused. It was pink- you liked pink. Hell, your nails were painted pink. “What’s wrong with that one?”

“I just- I don’t like it. Give me a new one.”

“But you were the one who set it in the cart.” He reminded you, eyes wide and pointed at the wall. There was a door between the two of you, but he still saw the perfect picture of your reaction in his head. You had most likely rolled your eyes, all haughty and annoyed, arms folding as you crinkled the dress in hand.

“I was distracted!”

“Listen, if you try it on and don’t like it, you don’t have to try on any of the other dresses I picked out.” Steve promised, a smirk on his face. Of course, he meant it if you didn’t like it. But you were going to love it. He knew that. As a guy who really didn’t care that much about fashion, he still had excellent taste- so the promise wasn’t going to matter.

At least, that’s what he thought until you actually pulled back the curtain.

“I look like a half-eaten cotton candy stick.” You bit out, bare feet smacking against the linoleum as you spread your arms out wide. The bright pink material was poofy and wide, the curved sleeves sticking out and digging into your jaw, while the shorter skirt rode up your thighs with every small step you were taking. It was... it was a terribly awful dress.

But the thing that broke him was the fact that you were in it, all edges and blazing personality, stuffed into a pink, oversized, paper mache finger trap.

“No! No, you look…” Steve tried his best to keep it together- to keep that stiff smile firm upon his lips. But one look at your smoldering expression broke him. He ducked his head down toward his feet as the laugh burst from his nose. “Yeah, yeah the cotton candy thing is really accurate. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologized, watching with a rising, weakly sympathetic grin as you snatched the next dress from the cart- one he hadn’t picked out.

Fair was fair he guessed.

But, there wasn’t much luck on the next one either. It was a color you had liked- shimmery, iridescent turquoise. Steve had insisted was going to make you look like the little mermaid, but you didn’t care.

You had shuffled out, holding the skirt high along with your hopes. Those quickly came crashing down as you had to admit to him that he was right. The dress did look a little like Ariel’s seashell bra.

So, that dress hadn’t worked.

No biggie.

You had a huge pile of them in the cart next to Steve, so you weren’t running out of them anytime soon.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

Morbidly wrong.

You tried on dress after dress, but none of them really worked. Sometimes it was the fit, the color, the way it made you look like a cartoon character- nothing was working out. Steve had handed you each dress, knowing that this would be the one.

It never was.

You kept throwing them back at him after changing out of them, your frustration quickly beginning to be taken out on him. At one point, Steve felt like he was drowning in fabric, choked by colorful skirts and sleeves. He had let you do it though, knowing a sarcastic comment offered by him would’ve been met by more crankiness.

And honestly, he was starting to worry that you were going to give up. The huge pile the two of you created was down to its last few dresses. And the odds of any of them working out? Dismal.

Steve’s feet ached, having tried a million ways to stay on his feet. But after as long as you had been inside that partition, he couldn’t take it anymore. He slid down to the floor, finding heaven on the cold, squeaky floor.

“Steve.”

He grunted in response.

“Throw me one.”

Without much of a complaint, Steve got up onto his knees and slid one of the dresses from the cart, balling it up and throwing it over the top of the curtain. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve pumped it fist as an excellent show of marksmanship. He slumps back against the wall, resigning himself to sit and agree with whatever you veto next. After a minute or two, the curtain rod shrills at the drag of metal. Steve drops his head to look at you and…

Huh.

You looked really good.

Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes wide as his gaze traveled from the very edge of the skirt, up to the off-the-shoulder neckline. You had shoulders- and a collar bone. He had never seen those from you. He swallowed slightly, stomach burning with something like indigestion.

The red of the dress stood out like a firecracker against the unoffending beige of the hallway, punching through the unerring boredom. It followed your curves like a car on a track. Your hands follow those curves, a scarlet vision straight out of fiction. He straightened up slightly, eyes blown wide.

“Hey- that looks-”

“It’s too much.” You muttered, a hand smoothing up and down your bare arm as you looked at yourself in the mirror. “It’s tacky. None of the other colors are half as loud as this one.”

Steve faltered, eyes landing on the curve of your butt. He cursed silently, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

This was you.

You were his friend- a surprising gorgeous one- so the fact that he had looked was an accident. One he definitely would not be thinking about later.

He cleared his throat, re-engaging you as he moved to stand. “Even the cotton candy dress?”

You didn’t answer him, lost in your own head as you turned this way and that, nose wrinkling and brows forming their familiar concerned curves.

On one hand. You were right. Most of the dresses in the store- or just in general- were pastel-colored, light and unoffending, or just slightly off-color. He couldn’t even remember a time a girl had worn a dress that bright and distracting- he would’ve remembered it.

“It fits you,” is what he finally manages to offer. He had moved closer behind you, now visible in the changing room mirror. The fluorescents overhead burn his eyes and are giving him a headache, but he sucks it up anyway. The picture of you in the mirror makes eye contact with him, frown jagged. Steve returns that expression. “You don’t like it?”

How didn’t you like it?

You held your tongue for a few moments, your fingers swinging slightly in the loose fabric.

“I like how it looks on me. I’m just worried people will think I look stupid,” you admitted. “Is that a totally ridiculous thing to worry about?”

You.

You of all people were worried about looking stupid.

Through his exhausted haze, Steve felt the deep sickness of confusion. He watched as the person who had stolen a police chief’s gun worried about what would happen when you settled on the wrong dress. He didn’t think you felt fear. You had never shown it before. Maybe the closest he had seen was annoyance or uncomfortability- but even in the face of monsters and sociopaths, you kept up a defiant image.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he had asked you.

Deep down, Steve had been too scared to show up to a stupid high school dance alone. And you? He thought you wouldn’t have broken a sweat.

But here you were, greying and panicked over your slim dress options.

For every time you had saved his ass, he owed you this one at least.

The thick confusion starts to dissipate as he makes up his mind and he’s back to quickly answering your concerning, but albeit endearing question. “(F/n). Look at who you’re asking,” He joked, warmth curling in his chest as you heave out a barely audible laugh. You turn over your shoulder to look at him and he continues. “Honestly, I think that’s the first dress that’s worked for you- and I’m exhausted. We’ve been here for two and a half hours.” Steve whined slightly, making a show of his sagging and weary bones. You narrowed your eyes at his act, lips pursing to keep back what he knew was a smile. Encouraged, Steve shot out one of his arms, ready to wrap it up. “And, just for a little more incentive, I’ve already got a tie that matches the dress.”

Your eyes widened, mouth breaking open with curved corners that you didn’t care to hide. “You just want to spend less money!”

Steve just shrugged, prideful in the way you had seemed to blaze back to life. “Finally figured that out huh?”

Gracing him with a biting, forced laugh, you ruffle up your hair and turn back to the mirror, hands atop your hips. Steve was starting to get used to how you looked, chest loosening. You were still your over-critical, annoying self. It put him at ease to see those familiar expressions crossing your face, returning you to normal. Everything about you was the same- you were just wearing a dress.

The soft worry that had filled your face was gone, replaced by serrated caution of the red garment. You were weighing your options. Lip pouted slightly, you took another spin, head on a swivel as you made sure to capture every angle of the dress.

Steve would’ve teased you for being so meticulous, but he knew how long it took him to do his hair. Instead, he just offered a soft roll of his eyes, folding his arms.

“Shut up.” You muttered, grabbing two fistfuls of the dress and lifting. Walking in place, your focus was solely on the wily fabric.

Thinking he was going to be stuck in this department store for decades, Steve let out a played-up groan, gaze finding the ceiling.

“Do you really think this works?” You ask finally, now facing him instead of the mirror.

That momentary shock of emotion flooded his system, limbs tensing. Steve loosened his jaw- repeating the same phrase over and over: she’s annoying, she’s annoying, she’s annoying. Steve nodded reassuringly, the confusion gone. “You look great.”

“Are you sure?

He took a deep breath, knowing that he could handle it. He could just tell you the truth. No big deal. “(F/n), if I didn’t already know how much of a nightmare you are, and I saw you in that dress, I’d be asking you out.” As it rolled off his tongue, cheeks slightly pink, the pressure he’d felt on his chest lifted.

“A nightmare?” You gasped, eyes wide as you spun to face him.

“Hey- that was a great compliment. I was basically calling you hot.” He pointed, correcting you for your own benefit. Then he winced, tilting his head. “Platonically.”

“Good.” You nodded matter of factly, turning to look at yourself in the mirror, smile growing as blinding as your eyes. “Platonic is the only option.”

With that out of the way, you hopped back into the dressing room. After a few minutes, the dress was off and situated, and the two of you dumped the discarded dresses back into the cart. It was a high stack- the ladies at the desk hadn’t been exactly happy when you brought it back.

But that didn’t matter.

Because you bought the dress.

After those long few hours, you were done. And Steve couldn’t be happier. Until you forced him to carry the long plastic bag that is, almost skipping along as the two of you left the heavily flowered store. He couldn’t complain though. Well, he could, and he did- but there was no real emotion behind it. He liked spending time with a friend- and right now, you were one of the few he had. Even if it was holding your bags or almost falling asleep on a department store floor.

On the way out of the mall, the two of you stopped and grabbed Chinese food- because by the time you had finally finished, it was time for dinner. Steve had wanted a burger- and you had wanted tacos.

You had met somewhere in the middle- somehow.

Eventually, dinner was eaten in the parking lot, sitting atop the hood of Steve’s car, sharing the chow mein and two sides meal.

You pushed away from him as he grabbed at your box.

“Hey!” You yelped, watching helplessly as Steve was able to snag a wonton from your grasp.

He shrugged, making a sort of ‘duh’ face at your expense.“We’re supposed to be sharing.”

“You said you didn’t like wontons.” You reminded him, repeatedly stabbing your chopsticks into the box, glare weak.

“Well, I didn’t love how they looked.” Steve explained, shoving his stolen food into his mouth and pushing it aside. “But now I know they taste great.”

He watched as you shook your head at him, tugging your bent legs closer into your body. Your silhouetted hair shook as you did so, drawing his eyes to the mellowing red sun.

“You’re like a little boy,” you grouch, shoulders hunched as you eat your own wonton.

Glee rising in his throat and stopping from swallowing his food, Steve coughs slightly, barely avoiding choking.

Beside him, you smile, red light reflecting in your eyes. “Gag.”

Steve snapped back to look at you, eyes blown wide. “What?!” He asks, trying to sound shocked and hurt- but can’t help the delight driving up the pitch of his words. “Did you just tell me to gag- so I would drop dead?”

You looked at him over your cup, mixing your chow mein slowly. “Yeah.”

“That’s it,” Steve began, slapping his own box down next to him and turning towards you. “I’m taking all of the wontons.”

“No-” You cut yourself off as you let out a scream, pushing out with one arm and extending the other, far away from him as he reached over. You caught him sharply in the chest and he barely grunts, reaching in a display of desperation. He can feel your breath bursting against his collar as you wind up for another yell. “You don’t even like them!”

“Stop complaining- just hand them over-”

“(F/n)?”

Steve freezes, ice-cold fear running through his bloodstream. Throat drying, his gaze dropped from yours, panic overtaking his motor functions. You take his momentary stillness to jab him with your elbow, pushing him off your shoulder and turning toward the voice.

He knew who it was before having to turn around.

He heard that voice... saw her face whenever he closed his eyes. She was the one person he wanted to see the most, and the one person he couldn’t talk to. And- she was the only reason you were going to the prom with him. If had had the choice, he would be with her in a heartbeat. He loved her- and it was sucking the life out of him.

The relaxed air he had felt sitting beside you caught in his chest, easily swept away by the girl approaching.

“Nancy?” You ask, grin growing wide as you recognized your friend. But as you actually took a second to look at her, a good forty feet away, you were able to get a look at her face. She was walking toward the two of you at a brisk pace, expression unreadable. Typically, you would’ve received a swift smile back.

That couldn’t be good.

Usually, she would offer him an awkward smile- even a wave if they somehow crossed paths. But the two of you got neither.

“Steve.” You turn to look at him, brows low and expression confused. “You told Nancy about us going to Prom- right?”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Now he knew why she was walking so fast, an uptight vision of pale purple hurtling straight for the car. The realization grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, threatening to stop the flow of oxygen to his brain. He’d really screwed up and his own body knew it before he did.

But what could he do?

He just inhaled through his teeth, shoulder’s raising apologetically.

“Damn it, Steve.” You groaned and turned back to Nancy’s ever-approaching figure, ready for the worst.

[itsreigns]

Everywhere

Evan Buckley x Reader

His parents come to visit Evan and (Y/N) during the weekend. Evan wasn’t particularly excited about it, and then, (Y/N) finally understands why.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Words: 1,572

TAG SQUAD:

@xfirespritex​​ | @hardcorewwetrash​​ | @shadow-of-wonder​​ | @wardl0w​ | @helluvawriter​ | @tryingtofindaplaceinthisworld​ | @heygargano​ | @moxleysbaby​​ | @lustyromantic​​ | @the-iridescent-phoenix​​ | @sassymox​ | @bull-moose-penguin​ | @finalgirl-x​ | @littlefreya​ | if you want to get (un)tagged let me know

___________________

Buck’s parents will come to visit us this weekend. I’ve met them many times before, not for a very long time though, but it’s the first time they’re visiting since me and Buck moved in together.  

I don’t know why, but he’s not particularly excited about it. I thought about calmly asking him about it, but I decided I’d wait for him to be ready to talk to me instead. And today, two days before their arrival, he reached out during breakfast. 

“I’m just anxious about it.” He states, avoiding my gaze, instead focusing his attention on the fork resting on the table as he messes with it. 

“But… why, babe? I thought you liked having your parents around. They’ve been here before.” I carefully try to reason him, trying to understand him at the same time. 

“I do… And sure, they’ve been here before, but not during a complete weekend.” He sighs heavily, clearly frustrated that he can’t find the right words to explain himself. “Nevermind.” 

So, his problem is that they’re going to be here for a long time? I don’t even think 48 hours is that much time, to be quite honest. I feel like there’s more to this, but I can’t quite put my finger on it yet. 

“Evan, you know you can talk to me about everything, don’t you?” I say softly, covering his hand gently and caressing it. He finally looks me in the eye and stops fumbling with the fork. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry… I just… Sometimes they’re… it’s not easy to deal with them.” He tries to explain himself, still struggling to find the right words. I tug on his hand for support. 

“Hey, whatever happens, we’re in this together, and I’ll be here for you, ok? No matter what.” I reassure him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you. I love you, (Y/N).” He whispers against my lips.

“I love you, Evan.” 

*2 days later*

Saturday’s here. Two days passed by smoothly. Evan was a bit more at ease, but I could tell he was still anxious, there was still stuff floating on his mind. But I just gave him space. I know him, and he definitely doesn’t like being pressured. Sometimes I intervene, obviously. But right now, I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. 

I was busy getting our dining room ready for lunch as Ann and Connor would be arriving in no time, when I realized I haven’t seen Buck in a while. I found him quickly as he’s sitting on the couch, bouncing his leg anxiously, lost in thought. That seems to be a thing for him lately. 

Feeling the couch shift beside him, he jumps in his seat just as I’m reaching out to caress his thigh. “Jesus, (Y/N), you scared me.” 

“I’m sorry, Evan.” I apologize, biting my lip. I stare at him, caressing his cheek, as if doing so, would help me find some clue of what’s going on or, at least, something that helps me start this conversation. “What’s really going on, babe?” I ask softly, moving my hand to hold his tightly. 

“I…” He trails off, averting his gaze to his lap, consequently avoiding mine. “It’s nothing, (Y/N). Really.” 

“It’s not nothing, Evan. I know you.” I confront him, keeping my tone even and gentle. “Whatever’s bugging you, it’s not nothing. I can tell it’s serious.” 

Buck sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands. I get closer to him, putting my arms around him and caressing his back with my hand soothingly. The silence lings in the air for a couple of minutes. 

“It’s stupid.” He finally says, still in the same position, not wanting to face me. 

“If it’s upsetting you, it’s not stupid, Evan.” I whisper, tugging his left arm to me so he’d finally face me. He concedes, so I take his hand in mine as he still rests his chin under his other hand. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here for you. No matter what.”

“It’s just… My parents. I don’t think I’m mentally ready to have them here.” He finally admits. I can tell there’s much to the story, but for now, I’m just content with the fact that he’s opening up to me. “You just don’t know how they truly are. I mean, I love my parents, but they just... “ He trails off, not sure of how to end that sentence. 

“Evan, we’ll go through this together, ok?” I whisper, and he nods. “If you feel uncomfortable or something, we’ll just come up with some excuse and we’ll make them leave. It’ll be fine.” I assure him, leaning in and pressing a few kisses to his lips. 

*Sunday, 1:25pm - 24 hours into having Evan’s parents at home*

Now I know what Evan meant yesterday. Ann and Connor spent the whole day being passive aggressive towards him. About everything. About him as a person. About his job. Honestly, I don’t know how they can’t see that what they’re saying is hurting him. It was definitely pissing me off, so I’d just answer back assertively. 

So, last night, before we went to bed, Evan sat down with me and just asked me not to say anything, that he’d handle it. I’m trying to respect that, but I hate seeing him so down and sad. I think he should speak up and tell them how he feels, but I can see why he doesn’t. 

We’re hanging out in our living room after lunch when his mom speaks up, breaking silence.  

“How do you feel about my son’s job, (Y/N)?” She asks me, out of nowhere, completely catching me off guard. 

I lock my gaze with Evan’s and he shoots me an apologetic and ashamed look. God, he looks so sad, I hate seeing him like this. 

“I love that he’s a firefighter. He’s a hero to so many people. He’s my hero.” I say truthfully, shooting him an assuring smile, which he returns timidly. “I’m really proud of him.”

“Aren’t you scared that he’ll get killed trying to save somebody he doesn’t even know? I tell him that all the time, he’s risking his life for strangers.” She affirms calmly. Doesn’t she have a clue? What the fuck?

“If everybody thought like you, there would be no first responders, no firefighters in the world.” I reply, matching her calmness. “Of course I’m scared he might get hurt, but I trust him and I know he’s very good at his job, and so are his coworkers. They’re all super professional and qualified for their functions.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” That’s all she said. For a few seconds. Then she speaks up again. “But you know, he’s not as nice of a boy as he used to be. That job changed him. Connor thinks so too.”

“Well, then I can tell you that you’re right. He’s not a nice boy.” I say confidently, smiling sweetly at them, making the three of them move their attention fully to me. “He’s a great man. The best man I know, if I’m being honest. He’s grown into this amazing man, with this huge heart, a true fighter. He outdoes himself and surpasses any adversity or obstacle that comes in his path.”

I stop talking for a few seconds, turning to face Evan, and his beautiful blue eyes are shining with emotion, his mouth slightly open. His mother is staring at me, a blank expression on her face. And his dad seems to be lost in thought, as if he’s letting my words sink in. 

“And those are just a few of the million reasons why I love him.” I add, proudly, finally finishing up, feeling overwhelmed myself.

Thankfully that conversation subsided. A few minutes later, Evan motioned me to follow him, so we quietly excused ourselves to our bedroom. 

“Are you o-” I start once we get inside but he quickly cuts me off. He pulls me into a really tight hug, and hides his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his hot, steady breath against my soft skin, and it feels so intimate, like home. 

“I love you so much, (Y/N). So fucking much.” He mumbles against my skin, his voice slightly wavering with emotion. “Thank you, babe.”

“For what?” I ask genuinely.

He pulls back slightly, but still keeps me in between his arms and close to him, and locks his gaze with mine. 

“For everything. For defending me, just now. For supporting me. For loving me.” He lists out, blushing a bit by the end. “No one ever did that for me.”

“I love you, baby. I always will be by your side, loving you and supporting you.” I reassure him, moving my hands to press my palms against his chest. “And also give your parents a reality check if needed.” We both chuckle lightly at my last sentence. “What would you do without me, Evan Buckley?” I laugh, playing with his shirt’s collar.

He pretends to be thinking really hard about what I just asked, so I playfully hit his shoulder. “Babe, stop.” I pout. 

He leans down and kisses me for a few seconds, before answering truthfully to my question.

“I’d look for you everywhere. I wouldn’t stop until I found you.”

Give me feedback???