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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

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lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art.

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.��

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #movie!mike #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #abby schmidt #abby schmidt platonic #mike schmidt angst #hurt/comfort #josh hutcherson

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aeoncss · 8 months ago

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…some of my personal movie!mike schmidt hcs <3

disclaimer: you dont have to agree, just don’t be an ass. thanks!

tw: parent/sibling death, mentions of insecurity, nightmares, trauma flashbacks, some nsfw (18+!), could be ooc?? idk?? don’t quote me on it

he’s a soft snorer. like the faintest sound comes through at night, and it’s usually when he’s laying on his back. when he’s sick, however, he snores so loud that abby has definitely thrown something at him to be quiet.

used to smoke cigarettes quite heavily. started in high school, then it turned into muscle memory that escalated into a harsh nicotine addiction. the second abby complained about the smell, mike stopped cold turkey, and hasn’t picked up a pack since.

does, occasionally, smoke weed though. usually in his car or in his garage late at night. spends extra time cleaning around and getting the smell out, including doing an extra load of laundry so his clothes don’t reek. it helps him sleep, although doesn’t do much for the nightmares.

mike has one of those huge CD books shoved underneath his passenger seat (it won’t fit in the glove box). it’s filled with many broken disks that are heavily scratched from use, and a lot of them belonged to his father.

he’s so bad at folding. so bad. he either hangs it up super sloppily or straight up just throws his clothes into his closet.

he prefers dogs over cats — although he takes the time to feed one of the neighborhood stray cats that abby has named ‘mr. whiskers’ because that’s gonna become his pet goddamn it

listens to a lot of korn, foo fighters, deftones, and the offspring. mike kinda refuses to play that kind of music in the car with abby around, so he might have grown to subconsciously love spice girls and a*teens as well…

grows insecure when he finds himself in a relationship, feeling like he equally can’t be enough or that he’s doing too much. mike has such a fear of pushing away good things from him, so it takes a lot of reassurance for him to finally understand that he isn’t doing anything wrong.

falls asleep during horror and romance movies. physically just can’t do it.

he can’t ever listen to the romantics ever again. if he hears even a snippet of ‘talking in your sleep’, his body straight up shuts down and mike goes into automatic panic mode.

service switch — really, he just wants to please his partner in any way. he doesn’t have a preference for anything sexually related, but he definitely gets a kick out of how good he can make his lover feel. he might have studied one too many playboys.

he doesn’t really realize how much he craves affection until after he gets into a relationship. whenever his partner leaves for the night, he feels like a piece of him is somehow lost, and he nonstop thinks about how nice it was to just be in their arms — even if it was just for a short moment.

besides the reoccurring nightmare of garrett, mike developed a new one after the events at the pizzeria. he can’t save abby in time, the sound of spring locks echoing deep inside his brain that he wakes up so physically ill. he has to go check in on her to get himself to calm down.

has a few really shitty stick n’ poke tattoos that one of his old high school buddies did while drunk together. he has a little stick figure on the inside of his left wrist, and a horribly disproportionate star on his right.

he’s a moaner. not a loud one, but there has been times where he’s either had to cover up his mouth by a pillow or even by his partners hand. it’s not overtly obnoxious or dramatic, more hushed pants and quick whimpers that escape deep from his throat. when he’s close, that’s when he gets a bit louder, the sound almost guttural.

he really gets a kick out of seeing his partner in his clothes or just doing something in his house. sitting on the couch just TV surfing? he’s hiding behind the doorway to the kitchen just so he can try and get his hard-on to go away.

mike was the type of kid in high school that genuinely did try to pass with good grades, but he just barely managed to scrape by without getting held back from graduation. it’s a regret of his, but understands what was going on during that time.

nicknamed his honda accord ‘marvin’.

really into making out, sometimes preferring it over sex. he likes the closeness and just enjoys the action of kissing — plus, it’s really nice foreplay.

#mike schimdt x you #fnaf movie mike #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 8th: Rockstar | Times Like These - Foo Fighters | Confident a/n: rockstar!eddie & corroded coffin. steddie. suggestive themes but not explicit. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

When Eddie was a teenager, he pictured himself on stage, surrounded by pyrotechnics and aggressive bass riffs. His hair was long, his skin mottled in tattoos with maybe a love bruise or two, and his favorite ruby red guitar slung low to his hips as he belts his vocals into the microphone.

All but the last part comes true.

He does end up sweaty from the heat of the fire cannons on either side of their set. Freak shreds his bass every fucking show, his fingers undoubtedly calloused beyond repair. Eddie’s hair gets in his face as he plays his own guitar, his Sweetheart, but he doesn’t get to sing.

That’s all Steve.

Unassuming, surprisingly talented Steve Harrington who Eddie discovers can fucking sing when he’s home from a tour, driving around together through the empty streets of Hawkins, Indiana. The 90s bring a new landscape to heavy metal and rock and roll, and as cocky as Eddie might be, as confident as he is when it comes to his music, he can see when someone has one up on him. Steve’s rendition of The Foo Fighters’ Good Grief as he drums along on the steering wheel sets his heart aflame– and maybe another appendage that he’s tried to ignore for the better part of ten years.

Steve agrees to join the band with a heavy bit of convincing, agreeing only when Eddie offers to retain his role as frontman.

I don’t wanna be a rockstar, Ed. That’s all you.

The band truly takes off when Steve joins, his voice adding a different flavor and Eddie’s backing vocals rounding out their sound. Eddie tells Steve night after night, show after show, that he’s happy he’s there, because he is. Maybe being in love with his bandmate hadn’t part of the teenage fantasy, but it’s become his favorite part of the reality, even if it’s one-sided or unrequited. His skin remains unbruised, no groupies or flings to be found, but he’d prefer a blank canvas over meaningless artistry anyways.

They end up touring again, exploring the country and parts of Canada together but always with different hotel rooms. Eddie never minds sharing with Gareth, or Jeff, or Freak but he also doesn’t make a habit of thinking about their dicks.

After their show in Toronto, the end of this leg of their tour, Eddie and the rest of the band celebrate in Eddie’s room– it’s the biggest of their block and Eddie won rock-paper-scissors to claim the lone room this time around.

Drinks flow, smoke from their joints curl out the window screen into the night, and before Eddie realizes it’s happened, he’s left alone with Steve.

Steve, who hasn’t had a thing to drink and only a few puffs of his joint, but is laying across the bed with his feet crossed at the ankles and his head resting in Eddie’s lap anyways. Steve, who Eddie listens to as he hums the melody of their encore and whose hair he can’t help but thread through his fingers. Steve, who Eddie has been watching night after night sing the words Eddie’s written himself, some of which are about Steve.

It’s a dangerous position to be in.

“Gettin’ tired yet, Harrington?” Eddie asks, grinning as Steve rolls his eyes.

“Oh, we’re back to Harrington now, Munson?”

Eddie just shrugs and continues playing with Steve’s hair. It’s soft, still damp from his shower, and Eddie’s surprised he hasn’t shoved him off yet with some comment about how he’s gonna fuck it up. But he doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve asks, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Eddie’s eyes. “It’s weird.”

“I contain multitudes, don’t try to make me some one-dimensional agent of chaos.”

Steve laughs and it’s better than any song Eddie’s ever written. And he’s written some damn good songs, if he does say so himself.

Eddie lets out a little oof as Steve sits up, bracing himself on Eddie’s stomach to turn and face him. There’s something in Steve’s expression that Eddie can’t place– searching eyes, furrowed brows, one corner of his lips quirked up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I do, actually. But yeah, go ahead.” Eddie bites his bottom lip and shrugs.

“How come you never wanna share a room with me?”

Eddie just about chokes on nothing, inhaling oxygen into the wrong pipe or something. His ears turn red, a tell that no amount of shaking his hair out can hide, at least not from Steve. He feels the soft skin of Steve’s hand graze his cheek as he tucks hair back behind his right ear, exposing the bright red shade of embarrassment.

“Is it me? I can’t imagine that I, Steve Harrington, make you, big ol’ Rockstar Eddie Munson, uncomfortable after all these years.”

You motherfucker, Eddie thinks, his mouth a little behind the speed of his thoughts, effectively leaving him speechless.

“Little bit, actually,” Eddie manages to admit.

He shouldn’t admit anything, but he’s alone in this quiet room with the boy he’s loved for so many years, who’s touching him like he loves him, too. Who can blame him?

“How come?” Steve whispers, his lips suddenly closer, their noses nearly touching. Eddie may or may not be breathing, but he tries. Fainting would definitely kill whatever this energy is between them.

“Ed, c’mon. Just, just tell me you want me, too. Please.”

Too? He thinks.

“Too?” He asks.

Steve smiles and nods, running his thumb across Eddie’s chapped lower lip before resting his palm against his cheek.

“Too.”

—

The following morning, Eddie and Steve meet up with the rest of the band in the hotel restaurant for breakfast– or, well, brunch at best given the time they actually make it downstairs.

“Notice you stayed in Eddie’s room last night,” Jeff asks, one eyebrow raised halfway up his forehead as his eyes flit back and forth from Steve to the very clear, purpling bruise on Eddie’s collarbone.

“Astute observation,” Eddie grins and answers for him, digging into the stack of pancakes in front of him, ravenous.

“Sure did,” Steve just grins, shrugging as he shifts in his seat.

Gareth, Freak, and Jeff all exchange a look, the kind of look that comes with inside jokes and long-suffering waiting.

“Wait–” Steve starts, pointing an accusing finger at Jeff. “You all left early on purpose, didn’t you?”

Gareth laughs the hardest, rivaled only by Eddie who watches them all with incredulity as Jeff parrots Steve with casual confidence.

“Sure did.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #corroded coffin #eddie month #eddie month prompts #myblurbs

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randoimago · 7 months ago

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How would Jolyne, Ermes, and Foo Fighters react if their boyfriend has a baby Burmese python as a pet? In Florida, Burmese pythons are considered an invasive species destroying the ecosystem of the Florida Everglades.

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Character(s): Jolyne, Ermes, and Foo Fighters

Note(s): Here you go!!

Ermes

She's a bit iffy when she sees your snake the first time, but she trusts you so she'll try to extend that trust to your snake.

Would gradually warm up to your snake while letting it slither over her. Ermes tenses up and asks you to take it away if it starts coiling around her neck. Even if it isn't restricting, she's not that brave.

Honestly, she prefers the python being your pet than destroying the ecosystem. She's not super nature-y, but she knows enough about invasive species being pains in the asses.

F.F.

Considering they're a whole colony of plankton, they aren't the most thrilled at the idea of you having a pet snake. In their current form, they know they could easily overpower your snake. But there's still that predator v. prey instinct that they have.

But I can see F.F. growing chill with your snake as time passes. They aren't going to let it wrap around them anytime soon, however. The last thing they'd need is the snake realizing that they could be a new addition to its diet.

Probably taunts your snake when you're not around. Just sticks their tongue out at the reptile and make taunts about it being stuck in a cage. F.F. just has a bone to pick with your snake for silly reasons.

Jolyne

She thinks your snake is cool. She debated on getting a tattoo of one when she was younger, but she's seen too many messed up snake tattoos. Your real one is cool though.

Jolyne has had enough of Florida's wildlife, to be honest. But if your python is just a good pet and not going to try to eat her then she doesn't mind touching the little guy.

She's really not scared of it at all. She'll touch the snake, hold it, let it wrap around her neck. She's faced scarier things than this.

Taglist:

@abellaheart-blog @joestarfoundation

#Anonymous #jjba x reader #jolyne x reader #ermes x reader #ff x reader #jolyne kujo x reader #ermes costello x reader

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xx-alice-in-wonderland-xx · 5 months ago

Text

modern au!The Last Of Us headcanons 🖤🍟

(characters: Ellie, Dina, Abby, lev, Yara)

birthdays (the year being 2024)

Ellie - May 31st 2005, she’s 19 years old

Dina - February 8th 2003, she’s 21 years old

Abby - July 15th 2000, she’s 23 years old

Lev - October 31st 2010, he’s 13 years old

Yara - August 24th, 2007, she’s 16 years old

Full names:

Elizabeth ‘Ellie’ Ashley Williams

Dina Miriam Levi

Abigail ‘Abby’ Lee Anderson

Lev Quý Wu (hate to put this but it used to be Lily Quang Wu)

Yara Chún Wu

Now for headcanons:

Ellie plays electric guitar

Dina is a better chef than Gordon Ramsey

Abby becomes a doctor and owns a hospital

Lev is emo/alt

Yara loves Shakespeare plays

Ellie grew up in foster care

Dina was a straight A student

Abby plays basketball

Lev plays Tomb Raider lol

Yara lives for animal crossing

Ellie is good at voice acting

Dina once ate ketchup straight from the bottle for a dare

Abby hates the word froth

Lev has ptsd from a game of spin the bottle lol

Yara is the overprotective older sister that always makes Lev text her where he is, every 30 mins

All 5 of them are best friends and live in the same neighbourhood

Ellie once gave Lev beer and got him hammered, let’s just say Abby never let her babysit lev ever again

Dina likes to travel

Abby adopted Lev after their mum kicked him out for being trans (She didn’t adopt Yara cause they’re best friends and Yaras old enough o look after herself)

Lev tried to get a vape off of someone and Yara caught him

Yara loves the beach

Ellie is the QUEEN of ‘that’s what she said’ jokes

Dina falls off the bed in her sleep because she rolls around

Abby has her nose pierced

Lev spoke in the tiktok language for 2 month straight when he went on it for the first time

Yara has a diary

Ellie taught JJ to swear (his first word was bitch)

Dina swears at Ellie in Hebrew and tells her she’s saying ‘I love you’ and shit 🤭

Abby once didn’t sleep for 2 days

Lev would listen to Nirvana thanks to Ellie

Yara is always cold

Ellie loves ALL the classic rock bands - Nirvana, Green Day, Foo Fighters, Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath, The Sex Pistols, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, etc

Dina listens to Coldplay and The Name Game from American Horror story (Dina, Dina, Dina, Bo, Bina, Banna Fanna, Fo Fina, Fe Fi Mo Mina, Dina!)

Abby won’t admit it, but she is a simp for Rihanna

Lev likes K-Pop lmao, his fav is TXT (he finds their songs relatable 😭)

Yara would like twice (thanks to lev lol)

Ellies lesbian

Dinas bisexual

Abby says she straight but questioning

Levs pansexual

Yaras straight

Ellie would have a twilight phase, and would be team Jacob, but then she hated it lmao

Dina is dyslexic

Abby takes Lev trick or treating on his birthday

Lev watches hearstopper

Yara watches Karen freak out videos

Ellie is so FUCKING picky when it comes to food

Dina always gets headaches

Abby has 2 beers a day

Lev goes on character ai

Yara likes to hide under Levs bed and grab his shoes to scare him (I do this to my siblings and they hate me lmao)

Ellie writes cheesy love songs for Dina

Dina and Ellie have matching tattoos

Abby rarely has her hair down

Lev plays the sims 4 lol

Yara is always tired for some reason

Ellie has 15 bottle of lucozade a day

Dina always has a cup of tea

Abby eats raw onions

Lev thinks he’s hard because he vapes and drinks monster lol

Yara doesn’t know half of the mischief Lev gets up to when she or Abby isn’t there

How I think they look irl (I found these on Google okay don’t judge me credit to the actual ppl)

Ellie:

Dina:

Abby:

Lev (I love Ian Alexander so fucking much LOOK AT THEM):

Yara:

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