#her one joy in life is being an asshole to him

[ragedagainst]

not for the first time, jyn wonders just how much trouble she'd get in if she creatively found a way to ' take care of ' former imperial director orson krennic. with how unorganized the alliance can be, especially at the lower levels, accidents happen all the time. it would be easy for . . . something to happen to him without anyone knowing otherwise. but for the time being, he's unfortunately ' useful ' ( allegedly -- jyn's near positive she could run this operation on her own ). despite making her feelings very clear to upper command, she's stuck with her dear uncle orson for the time being, the two of them forced together to investigate rumors of the empire building a second death star.

@debelltio : “where are you going? hey. hey!”

but just because she's supposed to work side-by-side with the man of her childhood nightmares doesn't mean she's going to make it easy for him. he's on her territory now ; newly freed from his cell, though still under considerable restraint, he doesn't know the ins and outs of the current rebel base like she does. in response to his current protests somewhere behind her, she only smirks, increasing her pace as she weaves through the crowded hangar bay, hoping that he's having a difficult time keeping up with her. she hadn't told him where they were going, just set off without a word, intent on making the next few minutes of his life as chaotic and stressful as possible. he'll find his way if he loses her . . . or not. either way, high command should just be grateful that she hasn't shot him yet.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hello could you write a fic for miles42 having an airhead gf like shes his opposite (kind, always smiling, extroverted but shes a bit blunt) !! for the fic u can do wtv u want tbh !! but if u dont have any inspiration u could do something about her meeting miles42’s mom nd uncle or, him taking his gf on a date or wtv u want bc idk if my ideas are good lmaoo

(Hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Opposite!Reader

It's so funny how you guys even ended up getting together

You both obviously clash but oddly work out well together

Even Miles was surprised he ended up with you

"Blink twice if he kidnapped you, kid."

Words of Uncle Aaron the first time he met you

When Uncle Aaron and his mother met you, they probably thought he was gonna be with someone who matched him, probably Emo or at least similar to him

And to their surprise, and his mother's joy

You walked into the door!

His mother thinks your good for Miles, she sees you're able to get him to smile more, he's happier and she sometimes sees specks of Miles before his dad died come back

Even if Miles is surprised at himself he really does love you

He needs someone like you in his life

Walking down the street hand in hand people would never think that you guys were together

Even in photos, you're smiling, it always seems like he has a permanent frown on his face until out come along

It always looks like two completely different photos, but no

He warns you about being kind to everyone though, as he noticed is a habit of yours

Brooklyn isn't safe, everyone knows that and you could get hurt because you're too kind

You're kinda an airhead also

You once followed a man into his house because he said he had cats and she had kittens

Don't worry, the man was a kind and older man but the principle still stands

Miles noticed you're sorta an airhead, not a bad thing but something he looks out for you for

But he truly does love how much you care for him, his mom and even Uncle Aaron

When you guys first met he was a little suspicious

Just because he wasn't used to that in Brooklyn anymore

You were also incredibly blunt

He found it funny at first when it was at other people

He gets kinda frozen and can't help but sigh when it's directed at him

He thought Uncle Aaron would not like you when he brought you home

Not him mom

But you did great!

He didn't even need to warn you about calling his mom by her first name

He's gotta get used to you being so extroverted

Especially because now he is more closed off and likes to keep to himself more

Especially being the Prowler

But when you want to do anything and everything, social and make friends

He's the one looking over your shoulder and directing you away from assholes

He loves you, but he doesn't want you being hurt

You got them scary boyfriend privileges

I think you guys make a great pair

Miles was initially hesitant to introduce you to his mom and Uncle Aaron, but you wore him down.

So that's how he stood in the hallway of his own apartment like the guest, as his mother already liked you.

Plus, you didn't call her by her first name.

"Aye, you're so pretty, Mija." Miles' mother smiled at you, getting a genuine one back as she stood next to you, glancing at Miles.

"Oh, ¿cómo te las arreglaste?" Mrs. Morales started, her son blushed as he stood behind you, watching his mom practically flaunt around you.

"Mom!" Miles complained, Mrs. Morales waving him off with an eye roll.

"How did you meet my son of all people, hon?" Mrs. Morales asked, guiding you to the kitchen as you followed behind her, laughing under your breath.

"Well, I was walking to Mr. Gonzalez's bakery, and I was in line but I looked outside," you started, Miles freezing in embarrassment at the upcoming story as Uncle Aaron laughed.

"I saw Miles standing there in the window, but he was just staring at me?" You said, a confused tone in your voice as Miles could hear his mom chuckle.

"Anyway, I smiled at him and he sorta jumped. He…sorta smiled back? It was a little loopy but then he turned away real quick, but he tripped."

"Oh, man…" Uncle Aaron laughed, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulder as Miles looked down, blushing thankfully hidden as he hid his face in his shirt.

"He fell sorta hard so I went outside to help him, and yeah!" You smiled, Miles shaking his head as Uncle Aaron elbowed him.

"Stop…" Miles muttered, turning around to head to the kitchen as Uncle Aaron couldn't keep in his laugh any more.

Hey, you said it how it was.

Miles may complain about it, but seeing how you were sitting on the counter talking to his mom with a smile on his face, he couldn't complain about it much.

[nellasbookplanet]

I've been thinking about Mollymauk, as I'm periodically wont to do, and the fandom discussion about him as a moral compass. Because the interesting thing here is, Molly wasn’t a very moral character. He was an unrepentant scammer. He had no respect for interpersonal boundaries and would deliberately push and break them. Generally, he was an asshole. As far as actually having a strong moral stance I would say Fjord was the standout of early m9, and to some extent Beau.

But here’s the thing: almost all of early m9 thought of themselves as horrible people. Fjord had been bullied so bad growing up that he still dealt with self-hate from it, and now suffered from survivor's guilt to boot. Caleb had killed his own parents. Beau, while she hated her dad, also had internalized self-hate and on some level thought she’d been such a shitty daughter she deserved his treatment. Nott was stuck in a body she considered monstrous. Yasha had survivor's guilt and knew she’d done bad things in her blank spots. Even when they did good, they didn’t think of themselves as good. Most of them were suspicious and asocial and faced the world with the same kind of distrust they expected to be (and were experienced in being) met with. (Jester was an exception, an agent of neither good nor bad but of amoral chaos)

But Molly was different. He was outspoken about loving life and people. He wanted to spread joy, even to people he didnt know or had even met: he slipped coin into people's pockets, hid a silver in a tree just so some stranger would one day be happy to find it. He openly cared for the party early on; was one of the first to step in and help Caleb when he went catatonic in battle. Above all, Molly had rules: where everyone else would agonize over what was the right or wrong or smart thing to do, Molly loudly proclaimed we don't leave people behind, and we leave every place better than we found it.

But the thing about Molly’s rules was, they were largely a cover. While the rest of the m9 thought they were bad even as they did good, Molly thought of himself as good even as he did bad. He scammed people, but made it a good and memorable experience, therefore thinking he gave more than he took. He charmed Nott and Fjord without consent, and when confronted would claim it was to help them. Out of the group, Beau saw through this, not because she was a better person but because she was a cynic. She saw that he caused harm, just as she did, and was personally affronted that he still thought of himself as good and tried to leave people happy, whereas she deliberately left every place worse than she found it.

I see Molly as a moral compass of the group not because he was actually any more moral than them, but because they made him their template. He was joy and brightness and he died trying to save them because it was the right thing to do, and they all chose to honor him by emulating his rules more than Molly himself ever did, because to them it was more than just a cover, backed up by genuine moral thought and discussion rather than small gestures. He taught them that it was possible to be kind of a shit person and still be good, to still love yourself and others. The idealized Molly they created never existed, and finally died for good when they resurrected him in the end and were met with a stranger, who they welcomed with the same love and care they would've expected Molly to show them.

[bandgie]

I had an idea but idk if you'd be comfortable with it so feel free to ignore it

I thought of minho and hyunjin for it. minho knowing hyunjin has a crush on someone. minho knows her but hyunjin doesn't. to tease him, minho takes the girl out on a friendly date and takes pics to show hyunjin. he gets jealous but that pushes him to talk to the girl and after meeting up a few times, they fuck. as revenge, hyunjin takes a picture or video or whatever to send to minho

I like loser to cocky hyunjin 😶

2k words

warnings! MDNI 18+, blowjob, throat fucking (light), cum swallowing, recording during oral

"Hyung, can you not send me things like that?"

"Like what?" But Minho already knows. He has a sly grin that makes his top two teeth slightly poke out. The smile only widens when Hyunjin groans, digging his phone from his pocket and unlocking it.

It only takes a few clicks before Hyunjin shows Minho the message. A sent picture of you holding up ice cream, smiling, and throwing up a peace sign.

"Ohhh," Minho pretends to finally understand. "Did you know she loves strawberry ice cream?"

"Minho!" Hyunjin jumps at the sound of his voice. "You know how I feel. It doesn't make me feel any better." He shoves his phone back into his pocket, folding his arms. "You're being a mean hyung to me."

"Mean? It's not my fault you're not doing anything. I'm just trying to give you a little encouragement." And although that's somewhat true, Minho can't lie that he finds joy in Hyunjin's scowl. 

Hyunjin shakes his head. "Well, stop it. It's not working."

But Minho doesn't. Every few days, Hyunjin gets an image of you with Minho. It ranges from going out for lunch to volunteering at animal shelters. Minho is in the same major as you and Hyunjin only came across you once. That's all it took for him to develop an innocent crush; one that Minho is seemingly keen on ruining.

Message after message, days upon days that leave Hyunjin feeling a mix of emotions. He's at the university library, staring at his phone and debating on blocking Minho's number until a glimpse of your figure catches his attention. 

It shouldn't be a surprise to see you, you all go to the same college, but it's rare for Hyunjin to come across anyone he knows due to his schedule. For a minute, he just watches. He observes the way you survey the room to look for a spot, and steps slowly to get a good look. He watches as your eyes lock with his, smiling and giving a small wave. You quicken your steps in his direction-

Holy shit. Are you going to sit next to him? Hyunjin hurriedly collects his scattered papers to make some room, not bothering to lock his phone that he hastily sets on the table. Your steps get closer, his heart beats faster. He's managed to make a small, messy pile when you stop just a few inches shy away from him. 

"It's Hyunjin, right?" Gosh, even the way you say his name makes his stomach dip.

Hyunjin nods, eyes shifting from his paper to your face. "Yeah."

"Okay good!" You happily set your backpack on the table and choose the seat right next to him. "I wasn't sure. I just seen you and thought you looked familiar. You're Minho's friend, no?"

This is the closest Hyunjin's ever been with you. He can smell your perfume, the lip balm that makes your mouth shine, and your cheery expression as you speak. How is Minho even friends with someone so happy?

Probably to make Hyunjin's life difficult. But there isn't an opportunity to answer as Hyunjin's phone goes off. Still unlocked, both of you stare at the message. 

From: Asshole [image sent] got to try out the new cafe with your favorite person the other day lol

Hyunjin reaches for the phone, but the damage is already done. You're quicker than him, snatching it off the table and scrolling further into the messages. Some casual conversations, lots of cussing, but mostly you. Just photos of you with captions ranging from what you did with Minho to Hyunjin asking- no begging - for Minho to stop. 

"What the hell?" You mumble to yourself just as Hyunjin successfully pries his phone from your grasp. He's sweating, you notice. Chest expanding rapidly and hands shaking. "Why is Minho sending pictures of me to you like that?"

He just shakes his head, unable to answer from embarrassment or shock, you're not sure. His dark hair sweeps over his face and he hurriedly packs his things. "I need to go." His voice is just as shaky as his hands. 

You grab a hold of his bag, preventing him from leaving. "You're not going anywhere." You yank on the material and he whines. "Hyunjin." He whines again at the sound of his name, but he remains standing and pulling against your grasp.

"Hyunjin. Sit. Down."

His legs turn to jelly, a final whimper escaping his throat as he plops back in his seat. You let a sigh, rubbing your temples in a way that makes Hyunjin gulp.

"Sorry, I...I didn't mean to say it like that." You take a deep breath. "I just don't understand why Min is sending you pictures of me. It comes off a little...weird. You know?"

Weird? Oh, he's so fucked. You're keeping a neutral expression, but Hyunjin isn't sure how much longer that'll last. If he tells you the truth, you might be disgusted. You both hardly know each other, how can he harbor even just some feelings for you? This is Minho's fault. It's only fair that he gets the full blame. 

"Yeah, no I get it," Hyunjin nods. "He just..." Fuck, what is he supposed to say?

You give him a few seconds before you prompt him again, "He just what?" You're being so patient. So understanding that you're still here letting Hyunjin save his ass. You should have called him a perv by now, slapping him across the face. But you didn't.

"He's just a dick." Fuck it. "I've already asked him to stop, but he just likes to torture me." You raise a curious eyebrow, but Hyunjin continues. "It was one time. I said that I think you're pretty just one time and he makes it his fucking mission to make sure he sees how much fun he's having with you."

That's not what you were expecting, but Hyunjin is far from done. "I would love to get to know you, to talk to you, but I'm such a pussy. That dick rubs it in my face how often you two hang out. Like, that's cool and all, but I want to rip my hair out." Hyunjin gets more confident as he talks, most likely getting riled up from talking about Minho, but you hardly mind.

"So, yes, it's weird. I know. But it's not my fault!" Hyunjin quickly scans the near-empty library at the raising of his voice. "Minho just keeps sending me you 'cuz he likes to tease me. That's all."

He stares at you and you stare back. A few seconds pass with quiet blinking before you realize you should say something.

"Oh."

Hyunjin groans, burying his beautiful face in his hands. You stare at his ashamed state, both pathetic and endearing. Truly, this isn't a big deal, but his dramatic reactions bring a small smile amidst the anxious atmosphere.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Hyunjin lets out a scoff, shaking his head at your question. "Is that really all you got from that?"

You shrug, but the smile on your lips still lingers. "Maybe. But that does sound annoying. I'm sure you get tired of looking at my pretty face all the time." Hyunjin laughs, finally picking his head up to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes like moon crescents. He gleams in the artificial lighting and it casts beautiful shadows on his features.

"Have you ever thought about getting back at Minho?"

Hyunjin stops his cheery laughter, eyes growing curious. He pinches his eyebrows together in thought, "I mean, does blocking count? Cuz if so, then yes."

You shake your head, lower lip caught between your teeth as a mischievous thought comes to mind. "I was thinking something a little more."

-

It's hard for Hyunjin to angle the camera at you. His hands keep shaking, the phone threatening to fall from his grasp right on your face. You're looking up at the lens from your knees, mouth full of cock. Your knees slightly ache from the bathroom tile floor, but you pay no mind. The main center of focus is quietly gagging on Hyunjin's length. That women's bathroom may be empty, but the sound of wet pops and smack echoes in the room rather embarrassingly. 

With a hard suck, you pull away from his cock. Hyunjin lets out a whine, hips shaking as you replace your mouth with your hand. 

"Are you getting my good angles?" You can't help but tease with swollen lips. Even in a messy state, he nods. You can't see his face, but you can see the black, tangled hair that moves. 

"Pretty," he chokes out as you pump him. " So so so pretty."

You flash your teeth at the camera, "Aw! Thanks. Do you think Minho will think so too?"

"Ye- Mmf!" He cuts himself off by pinching his lips. You've wrapped your lips around his girth again, sucking the tip while you stroke his shaft. He whines and whines, unable to stay quiet while staring at you through the phone. 

The video is wobbly but if he slows the footage down, he might be able to screenshot a few good frames. There's just something surreal about indirectly looking at your mouth take him inch by inch. It's like you're his personal pornstar, though he's keen on making sure little no one gets to see how good you look.

You relax the back of your throat, slowly pushing him deeper until his pubes barely tickle your nose. A soft gag comes from you, but you're determined on deep-throating him at least once. Hyunjin uses his free hand to brush a few strands from your face, coaxing you. You hum in appreciation and fit the last few bits.

Hyunjin's tip presses deep against the deepest part of you, pulsing from your tight throat. You can tell he's trying not to move, to fuck into your hot mouth to not overstimulate you. 

But he wants to. He can taste the orgasm on his tongue. So close, so warm, but you look so good with wide eyes. Tears brimming your lashes as you hollow your cheeks. 

Hyunjin moans, a long, drawled-out sound that makes him throw his head back. "Fuck. You're gonna make me cum." 

It's too difficult to speak, so you gently rock against his hips instead. As much as you would love for Hyunjin to bruise your mouth, this isn't the time. Right now, putting on a good show for the camera is your priority. To make sure you suck dick so good that Minho never bothers Hyunjin again with pictures.

His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat, a little salty from the oozing precum. With one of your hands, you massage his balls. Hyunjin mewls at the sensation, toes curling in his shoes. His breath turns jagged, and now he can't help himself. His gentle hand turns rough as he reaches the back of your head. He makes a tight fist with your hair and drives his cock deep.

You gag, the tears finally falling from the relentless pace Hyunjin's set. He's already so close, you might as well let him use you.

"Look into the camera." Hyunjin's voice is rasp. While you were trying not to choke, your eyes were unfocused. Now you're trying desperately to look into the phone, mostly likely going cross-eyed from the force his his thrusts. 

His cock twitches in your mouth and you brace for the spurts of cum. Even as your prepare, you can't help the gurgled squeak you make on Hyunjin's cock at the salty release. He shoots his hot load down your throat, and all you can taste and feel is cum. Your hand tightens around his sack and they tense in your hold. 

He's moaning, panting like a dog behind the phone. Hyunjin gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out, cum dribbling from the corner of your mouth. 

You groan as your throat empties, using your tongue to wipe the semen as Hyunjin's cock slowly goes down. Once the cum has collected, you flatten your tongue to give a good look to the camera before tucking your tongue in your mouth, swallowing.

"And, scene!"

note! I am in a but of a rut, but hopefully this'll help me get back on game!

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: High School AU Edition

In honor of my conversation with @darling-winnie about same age!Sterek, as well as my promise to @oldefashioned, here are some high school au recs!

1. Double Cherries (And 'Extra' Hoodies) by undercoverbastard

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+

OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Notes: adorable, I love their banter and the conection they have. Alive!Hale family is always such a treasure, and Claudia and Talia's friendship is great here. It's completed.

2. i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleepobleep

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he's not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he's ever wanted— except he doesn't seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Notes: Derek is not having a good time. Pookie just wants to be with his best friend but it turns out they're not best friends anymore and the world doesn't make sense because of it. A little angsty but it all works out. It's completed.

3. Don't Kiss and Tell by Hedwig221b

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something...

Notes: When I tell you I go feral for this au every single time I read it! Hedwig has the best unhinged obsessive sterek fics and I'll swear on that, don't even try to change my mind. Poor Paige is definitely being led on here, and both Derek and Stiles are assholes in this one, but they're in love and they're completely devoted to each other, so it's okay (I know it doesn't make sense now, but it will. Trust). It's completed.

4. But Then What... by Stoney

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

Notes: Typical Jock/Nerd enemies to lovers only it's Stiles being incredibly paranoid and angsty all of the time lol. They both had me shaking my head because my babies truly don't know how to communicate, but we got there! Eventually. It's completed.

5. Just The Same by foxlavander

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.” “Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—” “Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

Notes: This one is so good. Stiles is onto you, Derek! But seriously, they're so awesome in this one. And Derek bakes and he wants to open up a bakery and it's adorable. I love them and I love the Hales, everything is great. Look out for the werewolf reveal! It's completed.

6. The In Which Stiles Is Secretly Magic series by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

Notes: The lore for magic users in here is honestly so good. Love the world building! The Hales are alive in this one as well, which for me is always a plus. A little bit (maybe more than a little bit) angsty but it ends well. There's a few things going on, but basically Stiles is basically Deaton's apprentice and there are Rules(TM) he has to follow as a magic user. He's pretty badass though! The series is technically not finished, but both parts in the series are completed.

7. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek spends all 20k words thirsting over Stiles, as he should. Stiles gets to wear a skirt and be generally awesome. They are disgustingly sweet together.

8. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: This one is very sweet. There's insecure Stiles and absolutely lovely Derek. It's abo with Omega!Stiles and Alpha!Derek, and it's actually pretty wholesome. Derek is like public enemy number one of BHHS and a jock, Stiles is a loner, and when they turn out to be soulmates they have to navigate what that means for it. It has 13 out of 14 chapters, last updated in March of 2024.

9. too busy being yours to fall for somebody else by whiry

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

Notes: Also very sweet! It's strangers to friends to lovers, and Stiles falls out of love with Lydia without even realizing because he's fallen in love with Derek. The Hales are alive in this one, yay! The way sterek bonds over music is also so good! It's completed.

10. Stupid Over You by Wolfspurr

It's a Friday night, and instead of enjoying any of the numerous things he'd rather be doing, Stiles has been roped into dinner with his dad at the Hale's. On the plus side, Derek Hale will be there. On the minus side, Derek Hale will be there, and Stiles already has a hard enough time not making an ass of himself in front of the hottest guy in school. There's no way this can end well.

Notes: Overall amazing fic! Stiles is his oblivious awkward self that we all know and love, Derek is completely smitten with him. All this wrapped up in a dinner with the Hales and the Stilinskis. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed.

11. Six Minutes by CosmoKid

“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves. Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.” That makes Derek smirk, but it’s so condescending that even Harris would be impressed. “No offense, Kitten,” Derek starts and Stiles just narrows his eyes at the nickname. Derek keeps his eyes trained on Stiles as if to dare him to challenge the nickname. Stiles bites his tongue and resists it. “But you’re not really my type.”

Notes: This is not your typical high school au, but it's a nice change of pace. It's got werewolves, which we love, and bad boy Derek. Stiles stood no chances lol. It's completed.

12. The covalent bonds series by HaldFizzbin

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Notes: I went on a little Nerd!Derek and Jock!Stiles fixation the other day so here we have it. Derek is awkward and funny and insecure and we love him. Stiles is Stiles, and he's awesome. The series is not finished, but all the parts of the series are complete.

13. It's Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands. “We should?” “Yeah!” “But… Do you even care about photography?” “Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

Notes: Stiles is helplessly pining, Derek is painfully oblivious and the absolute last to find out. Somehow, they still go on like three dates together. It's pretty great, and it's completed.

14. can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? by whirl

There's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

Notes: This one is kinda crazy but in a good way! It's 120k words long so be prepared for that, and Stiles finds out about werewolves. Derek, pookie, I'm rooting for you all the way! Also Cora, my beloved. I adore her. Stiles is pretty confused all the time for a while there. It's completed.

15. scary stories and roasted goods by graveltotempo

“I have more, you know?” grumbled Jackson, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine. Here’s another; a man goes is staying at a hotel for the weekend. On his way to his room, he notices a door with no number on it-” “An albino woman with white skin and red eyes committed suicide in that room years ago,” finished Erica, inspecting her nails with a smirk. “We know that too.” “A babysitter goes to put two children to sleep in their room and notices a large creepy clown statue in the corner-” he tried again. “Get out of the house, we don’t have a clown statue,” said Allison, tried to hide a laugh at the flustered expression on Jackson’s face. “Two roommates in a room. Sarah says that she wants to go to a party and Mary wants to stay home-” “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn the lights on?” said Derek, and Stiles laughed, looking at him with sparkling eyes. OR the cheerleading squad, the lacrosse team and the basketball team go camping.

Notes: Another cheerleader!Stiles and Jock!Derek. I love them your honor. It's all very sweet and Derek pines as he ought to do lol. Don't worry, there's light at the end of the tunnel. It's completed.

That's all I have for this one. I probably have more in my TBR but I guess we'll find out. If I ever get there. My sterek TBR only ever grows and I never seem to be able to finish fics as fast as I find them lol. Hope you guys like these!

[trippinsorrows]

without you + one

authors note: hi, friends! so this is a foundational first chapter, meaning its intended to lay down a blueprint. there may or may not be some foreshadowing.....

but let me just say this. i have no intentions on drastically changing anyone's characterization from book one. e.g. joe has always only had eyes for reader. that won't change. he's all about his family.

do not read this story if you haven't read 'with me'. it won't work as a standalone.

warnings: language, some angst, fluff, and suggestive themes

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

words: 5k

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since your life was forever changed in a night of pure magic.

Two weeks since the love of your life proposed to you in the most beautiful way in the most beautiful place on earth surrounded by the most beautiful people.

Just thinking about it still brings on chills and goosebumps. It might just be one of the happiest nights of your life. 

And even returning home, being with your family, enjoying your pregnancy has continued on the theme of love and contentment. 

It’s almost nearly perfect except for one little thing. One tiny little human you just so happened to have created who seems to think that she has first dibs on a certain fiancé of yours at any given point and time.

Callie has been loving every single second of Joe being home on indefinite leave, and while you’re happy for her, happy for him that they have the time to spend together, it’s like she wants to spend all of her time with Joe.

And that’s fine, except for the fact it’s like she doesn’t want you around at all.

They’re playing tea party and she hits you with the, “mommy, it’s for daddies only.”

He’s having her help him cook, and she hits you with, “mommy, you can’t cook.”

She’s suckered him into watching Moana with her for the 18th time, and she hits you with, “mommy, I wanna watch it with daddy.”

Sis is beyond possessive. It’s gotten to the point where you almost feel jealous of your own damn child. An absolutely asinine thing to think, let alone feel.

It’s why when Joe jogs down the steps after getting her down for her nap, you grab him by his shirt and yank him into the office. 

He’s understandably confused. “Y/N, what the hell?”

You bring your finger to his mouth, silencing him. “Not so loud. You’ll wake her up.”

“And?”

Lord, Jesus. This may be harder than you thought. “And she needs her sleep, and we need time to talk.”

That seems to help him reason a bit better. “Okay.”

Pouting, you take him by surprise, shuffling into his chest as his arms naturally move around you. “I miss you.”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “I’ve been here, baby.”

“You know what I mean.” Pulling back, he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip. “I miss spending time with you. Just the two of us.” Realizing how that could sound, you quickly clarify. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you spend so much time with Callie, and obviously, she loves it too. But your lil’ bodyguard doesn’t seem to want mama to have any time alone with daddy.” 

And it’s the truth. It fills your heart with so much joy to see the beautiful bond and relationship they’ve developed in not even a year. They’re inseparable. 

But that doesn’t negate the fact that you miss spending time with him too.

“And we haven’t had sex since in over a week. A week, Joe. I can’t go that long without your dick. You know this.” He smiles, big hand laying on your baby bump. Like this shit is funny. Like it’s amusing that you’re going through dickdrawl. “That’s not funny, you asshole. If I have to make myself come one more time instead of you, I might just lose my shit.”

“I get it,” he finally shares, hand moving along the small of your back. “I miss you too. Miss my pussy…”

His voice drawls into something teasing, and it makes your pussy flutter. See, just his voice alone has you feening. Groaning, you mutter, while trying to settle yourself, “and it doesn’t help that she’s been sleeping with us.”

Calista is only four-years-old, so it’s natural for her to want to sleep with you and Joe. And you don’t mind that, don’t mind giving her that comfort. It’s just that it’s been every night since you returned from Disney. Not only that, when Joe gets up, she likes to get up. Even to the point where he'll just be working out in the gym, and she still wants to be around him, sitting on the floor talking to him or just playing on her tablet.

She’s even fallen asleep one time in the gym, with him having to stop his workout to bring her to her bed that she woke up from and managed to scamper her cute self right back into bed with you.

It’s just been…..a lot in some ways.

He nods, suddenly suggesting, “maybe we can try talking to her.”

“And what are we supposed to tell her, huh?” You’re legitimately all ears for any recommendations on how to word it. “Callie Bear, you’re spending too much time with your daddy.” Even saying it in a mocking tone feels wrong, giving you a sort of itch. “I’m not trying to have our child in therapy because of shit we caused her.”

“And you say I’m dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, emphasizing his point. “She’s a smart kid. I think if we just talk with her about how we have to share time with each other—”

“Ha. Share. That’s funny. That girl don’t wanna share you with air, let alone another human being.” It’s a partial joke, partial truth. A frown suddenly falls on your face as you think this over more. “You think something’s going on with her?” 

If you didn’t have his attention before, you definitely have it now. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, you do your best to explain what you don’t quite fully understand. “I don’t know. She’s always been super attached to you, but it’s been more intense lately. Like she’s holding on even tighter. Like—”

“Like she’s scared to let go,” he finishes for you, deep voice settling into something almost despondent. “You think she’s scared I’m gonna leave or something?”

It’s a bit of a stretch but also something you can’t entirely rule out. “Maybe.” With a new sort of determination, you advise. “You’re right. We do need to talk to her.” And for completely different reasons than when you first dragged him in for that conversation. You just want to make sure your baby girl is okay.

That’s the only thing that matters.

On the topic of Callie, you’re reminded of something. “Oh my god.” Gasping, you move away from him. “I didn’t get a chance to show you.”

Curious, he asks, “show me what?”

You reach for his hand, walking over to the desk that’s almost entirely done with being set up and open the first drawer. Grabbing the still unopened envelope, you reach it to him, a small smile on your face. “I wanted to let you open it.”

Joe is understandably confused until he flips the envelope over and sees the sender. His expression immediately softens. “Is this—”

Nodding, you share, “it came in the mail yesterday, but it just slipped my mind to tell you.” He doesn’t say anything, instead focused on opening the envelope as he carefully pulls out the certificate.

Callie’s new and updated birth certificate. 

Moving closer to him, you snuggle yourself into his chest as he uses one hand to open and read the document you two have been waiting on for nearly a month now. Everything has stayed the same except for one section, that one section bringing on all of the feels for him. For both of you. 

Father/Parent’s Name.

The section that was once blank now reads in printed, black, unerasable ink: Leati Joseph Anoa'i. 

You can just feel the immense love and happiness emanating off his big being. He doesn’t need a piece of paper to tell him that he’s Callie’s father. You know that. But this is the piece of paper that gives him all the legal rights as Callie’s father, the rights he should have had from the very beginning. 

Holding onto him just a little tighter, loving him a little harder, you murmur against his chest, “now it’s always as it should have been.”

—---------

“I’m thinking strippers. One on each side of the aisle. Shawty throwing ass to the left, and shawty shaking titties on the right.”

Any conversation with Alexis is bound to venture into the deepest parts of fuckery, but this has to be a new level. “You want me to have strippers at my wedding?”

She’s looking at you like she can’t understand what’s so crazy about her proposal. “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

Eyes widening, you lean over the counter that’s littered with countless bride magazines and her Macbook Air. “It’s my wedding, Lex.”

“And?” She shakes her head, stirring some of her chocolate pudding. “You love strippers.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I want them at my wedding.”

She’s rolling her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she murmurs, “if you wanted to have a boring ass white people type wedding, you should have just said that.”

You laugh. Wedding planning was always something you imagined doing with your closest friends, and while you’re thankful to have Alexis here as your support and interim wedding planner (because you’re still very much on the fence about that), her tendency to do the most is definitely obscuring her view of logic and what makes sense.”

“I don’t want a white people wedding, per se. I just don’t want anything too crazy.” That’s the best description you can give, because this is all so new to you. You naturally play with the stunning engagement ring on your finger. Part of that confusion is because you’re still a bit stuck on the fact that you’re actually engaged.

To the literal love of your life, at that.

A dream that’s become a reality.

It still feels a little too good to be true.

“Fair, I guess.” She doesn’t seem to agree that it’s fair but won’t push either. “Well, have you at least thought about where you want to get married?”

That, you actually have. Once upon a time, it was in your hometown. Now, you’d rather not get married at all if that was your only option. “I’m thinking here.”

“Florida?” You nod. “Wow. Okay, any particular reason why?”

Shrugging, you answer, grabbing a chunk of pineapple from your fruit bowl. “I don’t know. Joe’s family is already here. It’s easy for my mom to catch a flight out. And anyone else I’d like to attend would have to fly here too anyway. Plus, this place is really beautiful.”

The fact that life has only been up since moving here to be with Joe is a major plus too. But, that doesn’t necessarily feel like it needs to be outright stated.

“Got it.” She starts typing on her laptop, and you have no doubt she’s already created a Google Doc to track everything. It’s one of many things you love about Alexis. She may be crazy as hell, but when she’s on it, she’s on it. “Now, the biggest thing, maybe the most important thing, is gonna be the date.”

“Date?”

She nods, “yeah, like when you want to have the wedding.” 

Fuck. As silly as it may sound, you hadn’t even thought about that. Still so caught up in the high of actually being engaged to your soulmate. 

Alexis continues, “I’m guessing after the school arrives.”

You roll your eyes. “What did I tell you about calling them that?” 

“Okay, the brood.”

“Alexis!”

She throws her hands up. “Don’t get mad at me cause the freaks freaked too much and now ya’ll starting your own little tribe.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as Alexis continues to go in on you over your multiples pregnancy. For the most part, you’ve really come to accept and be okay with it. There are times though where your mind gravitates toward the childbirth portion, and your vagina literally starts to ache at just the thought of that trauma. 

Shaking your head and pushing away those thoughts, you return to the conversation at hand. “That’s a good point. I don’t want to walk down the aisle big and pregnant.”

“Exactly.” She types some more. “When is Joe going back to work?” Another great question that you don’t have the answer for. “Oh my god, Y/N, girl, just what do you know?”

“He just said it was indefinite leave!” You throw out in defense of your lack of knowledge. “Definitely not before the babies get here, so after September?”

“And you know he’s not gonna leave you alone with three newborns to take care of, so I can see him staying off air for at least a couple more months.”

That makes sense. “But, he’ll have to be back in time for WrestleMania, I’d imagine.”

“Most definitely. Didn’t you see that one promo he did? Roman Reigns is WrestleMania.” A smile falls on your face. You most definitely did see that promo. It’s one of your favorites that he’s cut. “But the next one isn’t until April, I think.”

“So maybe January?” The smile shifts into a scowl. “He can’t be gone that long though. The fans would lose it.” Thinking back to the Smackdown clips you saw on social media, you point out, “they’re already chanting ‘we want Roman.’”

It’s a bit bittersweet seeing Smakdown clips without Roman, seeing someone else hold his championship belt. But then you think about what that sacrifice gave you, what Joe giving up his title has awarded you, and it takes away some of the sting of it all.

You also feel a bit better knowing Joe is still playing an active role in the Bloodline, just behind the scenes. 

She sucks her teeth. “Ain’t that about a bitch? They fake asses acting like they weren’t the main ones wanting Cody to finish the story.” Alexis' borderline anger makes you laugh a little. “Oooh, Joe nice, cause the way I would give them the middle finger, retire, and live out my life with my fine ass wife and 12 children.”

Your eyes widen. “Don’t even put that out there, please.” You've definitely learned now about the power of the tongue. “If I was carrying any more than three children, I might just die.”

“Naw. Childbirth would do that for you.”

“Alexis!”

“Shit, sorry, too dark?” Lord, this girl really has no filter sometimes. “Do you guys want more kids after this? Like, forreal?”

Alexis, despite all of her shenanigans, seems to be on point with the questions. “I don’t know—”

“You don’t know?” That seems to be the answer that actually has her floored the most out of anything else ya’ll have discussed this afternoon thus far. “Bitch, this man put three children in you. Three. You really trying to risk that happening again?”

“Of course not. I just—I don’t know. I don’t think I can really answer that right now. Maybe once we learn the sexes, cause what if they’re all girls?” The likelihood of that happening has to be slim to none, but just like multiples of this quantity can be an anomaly, so can all of one sex. “I want to give him a son.”

Truthfully, you’re praying hard that at least one of them is a boy. You know Joe will love the kids the same. Fully and without inhibition, regardless of sex. But, not only do you want to have a little boy for your own reasons, but being able to continue on Joe’s lineage, maybe even passing down his name to your son would mean even more.

Of course, Alexis is quick with the dumbass suggestion. “Make one of them a tomboy.”

You close your eyes, forcefully stabbing the next chunk of pineapple. “Alexis, I swear to God.”

She leans back in her seat, adjusting her top. “All I know is if you think I’m babysitting four kids, you are sadly mistaken. I’ll take care of my little Cal Gal, but these other newbies are gonna have to prove themselves.”

“Newbies? They’re gonna be literal babies, Lex.”

“And? My beef is rated E for everyone, newborn babies included.”

Lord, this woman is giving you a headache. “I guess there’s a lot I still need to discuss with Joe first before we actually get into planning.”

“Agreed.” It’s a conversation you’re almost not looking forward to simply for the mere fact you don’t want to start thinking too much about Joe’s leave ending. Just wanna enjoy the here and now. But, you know it’s something that needs to be done. “Make sure to ask him about the strippers too.”

“Alexis!”

—-------

As he has almost every day since the start of his vacation, Joe handles dinner for you and Callie. Well, mostly you, since little Ms. ma’am insists upon helping Joe cook, and he insists upon you resting when you make the mistake of telling him you’re experiencing heartburn. It’s a common symptom given you’re about two weeks away from hitting four months and something you experienced when you were pregnant with Callie.

However, he takes all necessary, or maybe, unnecessary precautions, having you sit and rest in the living room, watching some random station while he works in unison with your firstborn to prepare dinner. 

He makes grilled fish with a side of rice and broccoli for the vegetable. It makes you laugh every time he encourages and tries to convince Callie that she needs to eat her veggies or else she’ll never grow. Sis looks like she doesn’t entirely believe him but takes the plunge anyhow. Plus, better him than you trying to convince her.

You’ll let him take that battle gladly.

And while he cleans up the kitchen, handles putting all the leftover food away, you tackle Callie’s nighttime routine, specifically her bubble bath, hygiene, and hair. Her bath takes a little longer than usual, somewhat because of your bump, but mostly because with her new disney princess themed bedroom came an attached disney princess themed bathroom. This includes a shit ton of bubble bath additives that any kid would love, many of which she suckered her daddy into buying during your Disney trip.

You don’t even want to know how much that man spent on Callie in that one week timespan. It seemed like everything she saw she wanted, and he wasted no time in pulling out his black card, buying it for her.

You can only pray she remains sweet and humble with a daddy like Joe who’s seemingly hellbent on spoiling her rotten. 

Getting her in her pajamas and securing her bonnet over her head after putting her curls into a pineapple is the easy part, and she’s nearly bursting at the seams to get out the bathroom door for a reason you already know and don’t need to ask. 

Cause as soon as you’re done, she’s like a speeding bullet, rushing out her bathroom and room, straight into yours.

“Daddy?”

By the time you get everything back and put away, she’s found her target. Joe is sitting on your bed, Callie tucked into his side with her chosen bedtime book in hand. She surprises you though when she looks up and smiles brightly. “You can come too, mommy.”

This has to be your first invite in at least a week, and it makes you genuinely smile as well. 

“Thank you, baby.” There’s not an ounce of hesitation as you move over to the other side of the bed, climbing in with them. A brief shared look with Joe gives you the signal you need to jumpstart the conversation you’ve been thinking about all day. “Callie, daddy and I actually wanna talk to you about something.”

Instantly, she’s frowning, pouting almost as she snuggles closer into Joe’s chest. “I don’t want to talk.”

This makes you frown, as Joe also looks taken back by her response. He rubs gentle circles along her back. “Callie Bear, what’s going on with you?”

You pick up on her hesitant reply the same way you’re sure Joe does. “Nothing.”

Placing a comforting hand on her arm, you softly point out some of the things that have led to this conversation. “Calista, I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with daddy. And you sometimes don’t even want me to spend time with ya’ll.” Licking your lips, you do your best to keep your voice as calm and soothing as possible. “Are you…are you maybe scared about something?”

And it’s when she looks at you for a second, that fear flashing in her eyes, you know that’s what it is. Something has her nervous.

Hating that something is bothering her and especially that she’s keeping it in, you whisper, “Please tell us, baby.”

And it’s Joe holding her a little tighter along with your gentle coaxing that seems to do it, seems to break down that wall that hides her truth. She sniffles, “I don’t want daddy to leave again.”

“Calista…” You hate seeing her so sad, but you especially hate seeing and hearing the pain in Joe’s face and voice at the fact that he’s indirectly the reason for her sadness. “Baby girl, I’m not going anywhere right now, remember? I’m staying here with you and mommy.” 

You’re thankful he doesn’t really highlight the fact that he will eventually have to go back to work. Callie isn’t stupid. She knows this, but it’s not what she needs to hear right now.

And your chest tightens as she sadly points out to Joe a trauma you still haven’t had the space to fully process. “But those people took me from mommy, and I couldn’t see her.” Eyes glossing over, it breaks your heart to hear that she still thinks about that. That being separated from you the way she was is still impacting her. “What if they take me and I can’t see you or mommy?” She adds on in a way that twists the dagger in your chest, “or they make you leave me like they made mommy leave me?”

At that, he pulls her onto his lap, carefully lifting her chin to make her look at him. “Calista, listen to me, sweetheart. No one could ever take you away from me or your mom. Ever.” He speaks with such conviction and determination. He needs her to believe what she’s saying. You both do. “You’re our little girl.”

“He’s right. I know…I know that scared you, but your daddy and I aren’t going anywhere. We promise.” Reaching over to cup her face, you ask in a way that’s more telling than questioning. “That’s why you’ve been wanting to sleep with us.”

She nods, quietly explaining. “I don’t want you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Oh, baby.” you reach for her and she climbs over to you, hugging you tight, head against your chest. “Daddy and I are gonna be here for you, always, okay? No matter what.” Chuckling a bit, you wipe the tears from her eyes. “Even when you’re all grown up and don’t need us anymore.”

She looks between ya’ll, almost wide eyed. “Noooo.” She reaches for Joe who moves closer to the two of you. “You’re my mommy and daddy. I’ll always need my mommy and daddy.”

Her innocence warms your heart. You love this little girl so much. More than words.

“We love you, Callie.” Joe kisses her forehead as she holds onto his arm. 

“I love you guys too.” Her voice is less laid down with that big weight she was carrying around, and it makes you happy to know she feels a bit better, a bit more secure. “Can–can I still sleep with you guys tonight?”

“Of course, baby.” The answer is easy. Knowing now why she’s wanted to stay so close, it would feel almost cruel to deprive her of that comfort. “Of course you can.”

—-------

Megan Lowery is having a shit day.

Beyond a shit day, really.

The first issue being that her stupid alarm didn’t go off. A classic nuisance that almost everyone has experienced at one point or another. 

Except for her.

She’s never had her good old faithful iPhone alarm not get her up in time to tackle the day, until this morning, which has since only gravitated from bad to worse.

Because of course her coffee machine decided to act up. Any other time, she’d have zero issue brewing her morning cup of Joe, but not this morning. No, this morning she was forced to forgo her addiction of almost twenty years nor did she have the time to stop and buy a cup due to already running late because of her dumbass alarm glitching.

And the shitty day couldn’t be completed without some asshole bumping into her and spilling their deliciously smelling coffee all over her Free People blouse.

Put plain and simple, it’s a bad day, and she’s already over it before it even hits 1pm.

It’s why she sits in her meeting, doodling on her legal pad instead of listening to what probably could have been an email.

“Lowery!”

Megan jumps in her seat, eyes scanning the room of coworkers who sit watching her carefully. She clears her throat. “Sir?”

Luke, her boss, crosses his arms. “Am I boring you?”

Yes. “No sir, of course not.”

“I think I am.” Megan has never liked Luke. A product of nepotism, his father created the casting company she works for back in the eighties where he grew it to the major success it is today, only to pass it down to his son a few years ago after ailing health. And while Luke isn’t a bad CEO, per se, he’s not the funny, down to earth type like his old man.

No. The man is a Grade A asshole sometimes.

And this seems to be one of those times.

“Then what was I discussing?”

Fuck. Megan has always hated looking stupid, and she’s usually pretty good at both paying and not paying attention. But without her coffee, it’s damn near impossible to achieve that feat.

“Actually, sir, Megan was just whispering some ideas to me for how we can get Reigns to sign on.”

Megan shoots a vicious look to her work bestie, Paige. She smiles, her perfectly white teeth a stark contrast to her tanned, freckled complexion. “She’s got some great ideas too.”

Luke is smirking, and she knows that he knows Paige is blowing air up his ass. That doesn’t stop him from having his fun though. “Perfect, then I suppose you won’t have any issues taking on the assignment.”

Megan swallows. She doesn’t even know what this assignment is. But the thought of letting her asshole boss get one over on her literally makes her nauseous. With a steel smile, she accepts, “Of course not.” 

“Perfect.” He smirks. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Smug bastard. “I’ll forward you the file and contact information for his reps.” Luke looks around at the rest of the employees. “Meeting is over.”

As everyone empties out, Luke being the first, Megan waits impatiently for everyone to depart before turning to Paige and punching her on her arm.

“Ow!”

“What the hell?” She hates being put in situations where she has no idea what’s going on, and this just so happens to be one of them. “What did you just get me into?”

“You could just say thank you for saving my ass, you wonderful goddess.” Paige adjusts her glasses and opens her laptop, typing away before sharing her screen with Megan. “This is what you’re getting into.”

Megan is still annoyed as her eyes land on the screen, but that irritation easily drifts away when she sees who is on the screen. “Holy shit, that’s Roman Reigns.”

“Duh.” Paige says with all the sass, explaining. “Universal wants him for an upcoming film they’re doing, but WWE just announced he’s taking an indefinite hiatus, so it might be a hard sell.” 

Paige, of course, selected a photo of the former champ in the ring, shirtless, hair down. Looking literally like the Gods put all of their talent into one pot and poured out him. Megan then asks, “why is he on hiatus?”

“That’s the sad part.” Paige does some typing and pulls up an article. She points to the several headlines that all say the same thing just in different ways. 

He’s engaged. 

“I swear, all the good ones are taken.” Paige pouts. “There was actually some drama he was in a couple weeks ago but it’s all died down now, I think. I’ll have to send you the tea. Nevertheless, he’s engaged and expecting another child with his now fiancé.”

Megan clicks on one of the articles that show Roman and who she’d guess is the fiancé. A frown falls on her face. “Seriously? Her? He could have done way better.” Exceptionally. Megan could never see someone like him, body sculpted by Zeus himself, with someone like her who looks like she’s never even seen the inside of a gym.

“Regardless, that’s his lady, and they already have one kid together, so he’s really off-limits.” Paige shrugs, closing her laptop. “Thankfully, all you need to do is get him to agree to do this film.” She snorts. “Baby on the way, planning a wedding, how hard can that be?”

Megan rolls her eyes and flips off Paige who laughs while standing up. “Wanna go get lunch? My treat.”

Shaking her head, Megan politely declines. “No thanks. I’ve got a few emails I’ve gotta get caught up on. Raincheck?”

“You bet.” Paige winks and walks out, closing the door behind her to leave Megan alone with her many thoughts.

Paige is right. It’s going to be a challenge to get Roman to sign onto this film when he has so much going on in his personal life. Some might even see it as DOA. Megan, however, has always been intrigued by challenges. She’s never encountered a situation where she didn’t get what she wanted. Where she didn’t get who she wanted.

On a film.

Of course.

Pulling out her phone, she googles his name, scowling when one of the first photos is of him and the fiancé and their kid, she’d guess. She easily pinches on said photo, eliminating them and filling her screen with only him.

Head tilted, twirling a piece of her hair, she says to no one in particular. “You and I are about to be very good friends, Mr. Reigns….”

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

[mattitties]

sworn enemy - matt sturniolo

I don’t have many enemies in my life. I try to get along with most people, and even if I don’t like them, I do my best to be friendly no matter what. But there’s one person that I absolutely cannot stand: Matt Sturniolo.

I moved to LA about six months ago, and the triplets were some of the first people I met. I got close with Nick first, then Chris, and I attempted to get close with Matt, but he was so closed off and became outwardly rude to me every interaction we had. I have no idea why he hates me so much, but I will not tolerate him giving me that kind of attitude for no reason when I’ve tried to be his friend.

So I don’t try anymore. I’m over at their house more than I’m at mine, and I’ve gotten to the point of completely ignoring that asshole when he comes into the room. Is it rude to ignore someone in their own home? Sure, but none of this would be happening if he didn’t make it abundantly clear from day one that he has no interest in being my friend.

Nick and Chris invited me over tonight to watch a movie, so of course I accepted. Despite everything with Matt, I absolutely adore Nick and Chris and would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with them.

“Helloooo,” I say when I walk into the living room, where they’re already setting up the movie.

“Hey!” Nick smiles as he gives me a hug. “Movie’s almost ready, you wanna get some snacks?”

I nod and head to the kitchen, saying hello to Chris in the process. I’m so invested in rummaging through their fridge that I don’t even notice Matt walk into the room until he groans.

“Oh joy, look who’s here!” he says as I turn around.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you,” I tell him as I grab some drinks. “Just go back to your cave and it’ll be like I’m not even here!”

He rolls his eyes. “I can feel your presence even from there. Seriously, who invited her?”

“We did,” Chris says. “Come on dude, isn’t this getting a little old? It’s time to get over whatever dumb shit you have against her and grow up.”

Matt shakes his head as he takes a box of Goldfish to the couch. “Nah, I’m good. So what are we watching?”

“Oh, so now you wanna watch with us?” I ask. “Two seconds ago you were acting like it was the end of the world that I’m here.”

“Well, this is my house, and I should be able to watch a movie in my house even when little annoying creatures are sitting on my couch,” he smiles sarcastically at me.

I say nothing in response. He’s such a dick. 

“Oh, before I forget, do you want to come to TopGolf tomorrow night with us and our friends?” Chris asks me.

“I wish, but I’m going to a bar tomorrow night with my roommate,” I tell him.

“No worries, we’ll go another time. Matt’s not going either because he’s just too good for all of us, isn’t that right Matt?” Chris teases and pokes Matt’s stomach, earning a punch to his upper arm from Matt.

I roll my eyes at Matt’s clear inability to have any fun and sit back as the movie begins. 

I should not have gone out tonight. I’m having the worst night. I should have gone to TopGolf with Chris and Nick. All my life choices are being regretted. 

My roommate is currently in the bathroom probably sucking some random guy off, and I have somehow gotten in the middle of two drunk guys fighting over god knows what. The place is crowded and I’m being swallowed in a sea of people as I desperately try to get away from the fight before punches start being thrown. 

I’m unsuccessful. 

In the midst of the chaos, one of the guys accidentally nails me right in the eye as he goes to hit the other. He doesn’t even notice and continues going after him, but other people do notice. I really wish they hadn’t. I want nothing more than to just get out of there.

I push my way to the entrance and ignore the small crowd of people following me and asking if I’m okay.

“I’m fine,” I tell them, speeding up and breathing a sigh of relief when I make it outside.

The pain in my eye doesn’t even register until I open my camera and see it: red, bloody, and already starting to swell. I’m tearing up, and I can’t tell if it’s from the pain or from the disaster that is tonight. I need to go home, but there’s no way I’m going back inside to get my roommate, and she definitely won’t see if I text or call her. I could Uber, but I’m terrified of Ubering alone, especially in Los Angeles at 11 PM. I don’t want to bother Nick and Chris while they’re out, even though I know they would drop everything to get me. 

A pit in my stomach rises as I click Matt’s contact name and text him.

are you up? kind of in a situation here and need a ride

Bruh

Call someone else

i wouldn’t ask unless i really needed help

please

I hate how desperate I sound, especially to him, but I’m cold and scared and in pain, so at this point I really don’t care.

Jesus fine where are u

I send him my location and wait. He pulls up ten minutes later, and I do my best to hide my tear stained and bloody face as I get in the car.

“Thank you so much,” I tell him, trying to control my shaky voice. “I’m really sorry, I just–”

“Are you okay?” he asks. I’m barely looking at him, but I can feel him staring at me. 

“Yeah, why?”

He turns my face towards him with his thumb. His eyes widen when he sees my eye, which definitely looks worse than it did 10 minutes ago. “Dude! What the fuck happened???” 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I tell him, my eyes starting to well up again. 

“You’re not fine. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Nobody did anything, I swear. Two guys were just fighting and I couldn’t move fast enough and I got hit. It’s my fault, but I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt,” I explain unconvincingly as I start to cry. 

“If it doesn’t hurt, why are you crying?”

“Because I just wanna go home, Matt! Can you just take me home?” I sob.

“Okay, okay,” he says gently as he switches gears to drive. “Can I take you to my house? We need to clean up that eye.”

I nod and look out the window as he drives us home. He is the absolute last person I want to see in this state. I know he’s going to use this against me in a few days and he’s never going to let me live it down. 

When we get to the triplets’ house, I make a beeline for Matt’s bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. 

“Oh my god,” I mumble. I look awful. My eye is completely swollen and it’s turning purple. I have a gash in my cheek. “Why the fuck did I go out tonight?” I say as Matt walks in behind me. “I have to go to work looking like this! I’m not gonna make any tips! People are gonna throw up looking at me!”

“Okay, calm down,” he tells me. “Sit on the toilet. I’m gonna clean it and get you some ice and then you can just chill here, okay?”

I nod and sit down on the toilet lid as he gets a cotton ball and some hydrogen peroxide. He tilts my chin up to look at him. “Little sting,” he mumbles. I scrunch my face at the feeling of the peroxide on the cut. “I know, I’m sorry, almost done.”

He dabs the cut a few times and throws the cotton ball out. “Come on,” he says, motioning me to get up. “Go lay down and I’ll get ice.”

I silently oblige and lay on his bed, giving him a small smile when he returns with some ice chunks in a ziplock bag covered in a paper towel. 

“It’s the best I could do,” he says when he hands it to me. “We don’t have any actual ice packs.”

“It’s great, thank you.”

He lays down next to me and turns on the TV. I’m not even paying attention. All I can think about is trying not to ask the one thing I desperately want to know. I almost keep myself from saying it, until it just comes out of my mouth like word vomit.

“Why don’t you like me?”

He looks at me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What?”

I immediately regret everything, but I ask again. “Why don’t you like me? I mean, Nick and Chris both like me, so I would assume you would too, but like… did I do something to you?”

He sits up and turns the TV off. “I dropped everything tonight to come save you from a bar. Why don’t you think I like you?”

“You’re just so mean to me. You have been since the day we met. And I don’t understand what I did to deserve that. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, I just want to know why.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I do like you. I never meant to make it seem like I don’t, I thought we were just playing around. Like friends tease each other, ya know?”

“Well yeah, but… you’ve never done anything to make me think we’re friends, so…”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but then closes it.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothin. Do you want to stay here tonight? I can get you something to change into.”

“Oh,” I reply, completely taken aback by this. “Yeah… yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He offers me a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt which I take into the bathroom and change into, discarding the ice pack in the process. I take another look in the mirror and sigh.

“God, I look fucking disgusting,” I say when I climb back into his bed.

“You look beautiful,” he says so quietly I have to double check if I even heard him correctly.

“Don’t tell me that just because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m not.” He turns on his side to face me. “You are beautiful.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

His eyes are moving between my eyes and my lips. I’m starting to put the pieces together, and it’s terrifying. 

“Because I’m tired of pushing my feelings down and making it your problem,” he says. I don’t say anything, I just give him time to explain. “I didn’t want to like you because you were Nick and Chris’ friend first, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I thought being a dick would make my feelings go away. It didn’t.”

“I like you, Matt,” I whisper. “I have since I first met you. It made me so sad to think that you didn’t like me. And I’m sorry I’ve also been mean to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I deserved it,” he says. “Do you still hurt?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Good,” he says before lightly holding my cheek and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I freeze for a moment, not fully processing what’s happening, and then I hold his wrist and kiss him back, our lips moving perfectly together.

It’s clear that neither of us have any intention of taking it further tonight. We continue to kiss for just a couple minutes until we separate, doing nothing but staring into each others’ eyes. 

“Goodnight, Matt,” I say.

“Goodnight.”

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Semi-Final One

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

GIF by sunsetboulevards

Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

GIF by jaeausten

The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

GIF by didanagy

Fencing? Hot!

GIF by greengableslover

The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

GIF by greengableslover

This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

GIF by didana

Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

GIF by my-little-random-world

Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

[bloop-bl00p]

“Fîls de joie” What Poison could have been.

TW: Mention of Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Rape, Drugs, Addiction, Manipulation, Mention of Fetish and sex in general, mention of Sex works, Raphielle II don’t go harras him and respect his pronouns

I’m trying to be a writer and I understand writing about taboos and controversial things is difficult. I only write about what I know which is the effect of emotional and physical abuse and religious traumas. Notheless if I’m trying to do something out of my domain of expertise I’ll research it to respect the concerned part of the audience.

Vivienne Medrano said that people who’ve been sexually abused helped write episode 4. Part of me wants to believe it, it’s most likely true, it’s the best thing a writer can do, let knowledgeable people help and not just rely on sites about psychology. But, with how rape and assault are presented sometimes it really feels like she’s lying.

Angel Dust is the only character whose abuse is presented as serious.

Stolas kept belittling Bliztø and kept talking dirty even when the Man was in danger

You cannot tell me that he couldn't hear the gunshot through the phone, in this scene, he keeps making his disgusting speech. Blitzø was practically forced to make the deal as he wasn't in a situation where he could process his thoughts clearly since he was trying to survive

And it was a joke.

Angels Dusk kept harassing Husk throughout the series but he never once apologized. Yes, it stopped after Looser Baby but he should have a mindful conversation with Husk and genuinely say sorry about his behavior.

“It starts with sowwy🥺” What’s the point of having this song if the characters don’t follow through with the lesson?

Those scenes were mostly jokes.

And I haven’t mentioned Sir Pentious getting dragged while being drunk in a sex room, or Moxie being kissed by Succubus despite mentioning he didn't want any of that.

AAaaAaaaAh look at these men, being uncomfortable because they are touched and talked down despite verbally addressing their discomfort! That hilarious!

I want to believe she cares, I’m a fan of these shows, I know it doesn't look like it but I’ve been hooked since the Pilots. Not only was I disappointed at the final result but I was also shocked to learn Medrano is simply just an asshole with too much money in her bag.

Poison failed where Fîls de Joie succeeded:

Before reading any of what I wrote you should listen to it, there are English subtitles. And honestly, it's a good song on its own.

What’s the context of Fîls de Joie?

A sex worker died and her son is holding funerals for her. You can guess it with the wordplay in the title, Fille de Joie (Girl of Joy) is one of the many ways to say prostitute in French. Fîls (son) de Joie is a way to say that he’s the son of a sex worker.

While sung by the same man, you can notice that Stromae gives us four POVs in the song, the son in the chorus, a client, the pimp, and a policeman.

Everyone besides the son is a hypocrite and relatively an asshole. But even if those verses are self-centered and a pathetic attempt from these men to bring sympathy to themselves, despite never hearing the story directly from the Woman, you can guess exactly how her life was and you sympathize with her. It tells us a story, her story.

This woman was a good mother, and it shows how much the son insisted on leaving her alone, speaking proudly of her despite acknowledging her flaws, and even repeatedly calling her a hero.

But HEY! (But HEY!) Leave my mom alone Yes I know, she’s not perfect, it’s true She’s a hero (She’s a hero) And I will always speak of her with pride

The client is trying to be excused from his actions by stating he’s lonely and addicted to it.

Being alone is not easy And it’s been years since my last time

The hardest part, well, it’s the first time And now what’s hard is to decide when the last time will be

But he’s also verbally violent even stating that as long as he got the money he could pretty much do everything to her.

Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her. Yeah everything is negotiablе in life, if you got the money And after all, I’m probably her best customer

With that alone, you can probably guess that it’s not the only violent client she had but she has to endure it because she needs money. Considering that she has a son it’s probably to support his education or something related to her well-being and his.

Then comes the pimp, he brushed off all of his misdeeds by saying he gives them shelter and food and should be grateful for it.

Why does everyone hate me? I’m the one feeding them Their lives would be way more mediocre. Without me, their lives would be shitty

Not only that but his good actions are not for the sake of it, he should have his part of the deals. He doesn't want them to feel like princesses eventually calling them hookers in a very dehumanizing way.

That has a price, Missy. Well duh, in this life, everything comes at a price. Nobody ever told you? They say I’m guilty of human trafficking But 50, 40, 30 or 20% is not nothing

They better not delude themselves and think they’re models Ladies—or should I say: hookers!

Not only does this woman have to endure constant violent behavior from her clients she barely gets enough money despite being the one at work, receiving either 50% or even 20% of what she actually gained. The rest goes to an egocentric pimp that only sees her as merchandise.

While we can technically understand where the policeman is coming from, he’s just doing his job, he’s making a mistake apparent in the other’s verse but much more evident in his.

He doesn't see her as a human.

I know that it’s your job But I gotta do mine, don’t I?

Take back your ID and what’s left of your dignity You’re pathetic, pfft Find yourself a real job!

This song doesn't tell us the story of a prostitute but the story of a financially struggling Mother who juggles between abusing clients and a society that only focuses on the top of the iceberg, the fact that she’s selling her body.

Stromae tries to appeal to our compassion and teach us that it’s important to understand why someone will go their way to sell sex for a few pennies. And rather than rejecting them, we should help them.

Another thing I like about the clip as a whole is the Military. They don’t have a Belgian or French uniform but they wear multiple of them to show that this dehumanization isn’t linked to one country but it’s global, every countries and cultures take part in it, and it needs to be fixed.

What does Poison tell us?

Angel got stuck in an abusive situation and was forced to do sex work for his pimps, it focuses more on the sexual assault rather than his life.

He obliviously regrets his choice resulting in him blaming himself for getting into such a messy situation. A situation he’s seemingly addicted to despite himself, he knows it’s bad but he can’t help it.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow. Up your poison

The poison can also be a metaphor for the drugs he seems to take directly from Valentino’s brand. A drug he either takes himself or is forced to inhale.

He uses the same substance to forget his situation and numbs the pain while also putting on a false Sex-addicted mask to convey that he’s fine and stay on Valentino’s good side. A direct consequence of his abuse is his addiction and his hypersexuality.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear

At the end of the song he’s waisted, traumatized, and finally breaks down as he finally has a short time to process everything that happened. Because here’s the thing, Poison is a fantasy, it’s a mask he puts in to forget the emotional and physical weight that was put on him, hence why it’s so flashy and pretty. The few glimpses of Angel being visibly distraught show that all the parts where he isn't are him disassociating.

See I can analyze stuff and I totally understand what they were trying to do with it but the difference with Fîls de Joie is, that we didn't know the life or personality of The Mother and we learn it through the song.

Angel Dust and Valentino’s relationship is highlighted throughout the shows and Poison doesn't add anything new to the table. The song is POINTLESS. Husk already looked at us and told us that Angel Dust being sexual was a whole persona he puts in.

You can say that the song humanized him since he was basically the “AaahaAH SEX” character but the locker scene already did and… I don’t like the story behind the making of it, why you ask?

Because Vivienne let Raphielle’s work affect her writing.

Visually speaking I believe you can present a disturbing concept with equally disturbing imagery, I understand that the point was to make you uncomfortable and the Dance sequence was Angel Dust disassociating while what was happening was displayed on the screen.

But… can someone explain why they let the work of someone blatantly fetishizing Angel and Valentino's relationship leak into the final product? I don’t even care that Raphielle or Vivienne have a nonconsensual fetish but we can all agree that his content depicting the two men will be inrentently for gooning purposes right? Or am I crazy for saying that?!

Okay, I wanna be clear, Raphielle can do everything he wants what I care about is that his fetishistic content was referenced in the shows.

→ Here’s one of his works. Go at 2:45 if you wanna skip the sexual stuff

→ Click here for more proof

The idea of Angels Dust being “sexy” while his image is projected on screens is from Raphielle II, his work is for sexual gratification but Medrano still referenced it despite Raph being pretty vocal about it.

And that’s not all.

Yes, Vivienne, it’s great marketing to make a cum joke about visuals displaying rape. Because in case y’all forgot all of the sex scenes in the clip are non-consensual from Angel Dust's perspective.

Am I supposed to believe that this woman cares when not only she has a double standard only showing rape and sexual assault as a whole in a bad way when it comes to her favorite character?

Am I supposed to believe that she cares when she associates herself with a fetishizer and references his work in her show?

Why did Stromae managed to make me care about an unnamed fictional dead woman in the spam of 3:57 when she just irked me in 20 minutes with her so-called “well done” representation of sex workers?

Is that really what people call a realistic presentation? How does someone manage to fumble so hard on every aspect of the series, I’m starting to believe that Hazbin Hotel is just rage-bait with the lack of respect she puts into it.

That’s all for me if anyone wants to add anything, the comments are there.

[lilislegacy]

It kind feels this fandom babys Percy and forget everyones been through things even Annabeth. She gets treated like shes the cause of some of his pain and therefore they shouldnt be together? When the guy would be depressed without her.

warning: i’m about to thought vomit. a lot.

RIGHT?? i try not to talk about it, but sometimes the way the fandom mischaracterizes and misunderstands percy really bothers me. the fact of the matter is: a lot of people want percy to be someone he’s not. and don’t get me wrong, i love that people have their own headcanons, but percy would hate the way people portray him in the fandom. and yes, it annoys me how people villainize annabeth in the meantime. they make him out to be this sensitive little guy and her this super mean toxic girl. when in reality they are complete equals. which is… the whole point.

percy has his insecurities, and he is super sarcastic and silly (largely in his head), but he’s a super strong and badass guy. he’s canonically very tough and intimidating. he has real human feelings, has big mood swings, and even gets emotional at some times (usually with his dad), but he’s not a sensitive guy, by any means. this is the same dude who’s been kicked out of every school, including military schools. he’s dealt with bullies and monsters and villains his whole life. he doesn’t get hurt or offended easily. and annabeth has been through just as much shit. it’s different, but it not “more” or “less” than he’s been through. and for some reason people don’t like this, but annabeth is the sensitive one in the relationship. she cries easily, she gets offended more easily, she feels and shows her emotions a lot more than percy. and that does not make her weak. and it’s the truth. so when people make her out to be this cold toxic person, who hurts little poor sensitive percy, it’s frustrating. it’s so wrong. they are both extremely strong. annabeth is percy’s biggest source of joy and comfort. she does not abuse him or degrade him.

no, their relationship is not perfect. neither of them are perfect. annabeth can be too prideful, and can tend to feel superior to others, but it’s just because she’s so intelligent. she’s aware of it and she actively works on it. in COTG, percy said whenever she gets excited about her day at school or proud of her accomplishments, she stops herself and asks about him instead. she knows she can be prideful, and wants to make sure percy knows she values and respects him. and percy, along with being impulsive, can be very insensitive. yes, it’s true. he is very loyal, but that doesn’t mean he’s always sensitive and considerate of people’s feelings. we see it so much, especially in battle of the labyrinth when he was an asshole to annabeth. some of it is because he can be very oblivious (no, not dumb), but some is just because of who he is. but he’s aware of it and actively works on it. like when he gave nico that big apology in heroes of olympus, and apologized to leo about calypso.

they are not perfect, because they are real. but they build each other up and love each other unconditionally. percy does not need people to protect him from annabeth. annabeth protects him more than anyone else. she takes care of him - physically and emotionally. and he does the same for her. they’ve been through a lot of crap, and they both help each other through it. they are partners. they are equals. neither are weak, and neither are toxic.

[kimingyuslover]

WONWOO FIC RECS

scandal by @fantasyescapes17 (regency!au, fluff, angst, kinda enemies to lovers!au) pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) was beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

the peephole by @rubyreduji (smut)

➥ wonwoo can’t stop thinking about how he wants to ruin his roommate, the peephole in his wall isn’t helping tamper those desires either

neurosurgery department by @taeyegu (fluff, angst, some humor, friends to lovers!au)

“if there is a nice person, please introduce him to me. sometimes like water, sometimes like fire. someone who can love me sincerely. i hope he is someone who is mature and faithful…” (introduce me a good person, joy)

getting closer (angst, smut, crime!au, Joker!Jeon Wonwoo x Chief Inspector!fem!reader) by @multi-kpop-fanfic

Summary: Four months. It has taken inspector Y/N L/N four months to get her hands on Jeon Wonwoo, the maniac, Joker-like criminal, who has thrown the city into total fear. The same criminal who has an obsession with the inspector, because she's the only one who can grant him his greatest wish. They need each other to fulfill their goals and there's only one way - by getting closer to each other, one last time.  

bloodily safe by @starlightxsvt (psychological thriller? camgirl au, college au, smut)

synopsis ➳ you have a little secret. one you are desperately hiding. yet the boy you have a crush on has figured it out. now a game of cat and mouse has begun. how do you make it out alive?

game on by @starlightxsvt (pt. 2 of bloodily safe, smut)

synopsis ► ❝ there has not been a single uninteresting moment since you have started living with wonwoo. as halloween rolls around, things only get more riveting. ❞

twisted fate by @smileysuh (smut, some fluff, vampire!wonwoo, vampire hunter!reader, soulmate!au, enemies to lovers!au)

💙 preview. “He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

anteric by @smileysuh (smut, friends to lovers!au, frat!au, fake dating!au, ft. mingyu)

💙 preview. when you bump into the guy that ghosted you, your model best friend and roommate, Mingyu, steps up to be your fake boyfriend for the night... and when the asshole is hired at your workplace, your other roommate, twitch gamer Wonwoo, is roped into the charade too - “polyamory exists dude, get over it.”

work husband by @rubyreduji (fluff, ft. mingyu, office!au)

summary: your two coworkers get a bit too involved in becoming your “work husband”

to my youth by @viastro (slice of life!au, smau, fluff, humor, angst)

ミ☆ synopsis: in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm.

[morning-star-joy]

I'll plant a garden in the yard (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post!Outbreak Neighbors

Summary: You're Joel's new next-door neighbor when he settles in Jackson, and you're determined to add some positivity to the grumpy old man's life. This time, instead of baked goods, you show up on his doorstep with another housewarming gift. (based off this request)

Tags/Warnings: Mild language, Joel is unintentionally an asshole, Soft!Reader, implied age gap, things get a little bit kinky/horny if you squint but nothing explicit

Wordcount: 1.9k

Part I || Part II || Part III || Masterlist (More Parts Coming Soon)

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel Miller was, for lack of a better term, an asshole.

Look, you didn’t like calling him that. And you would never dare to say it aloud, but when he took the neighborly welcome in the form of freshly baked banana bread you had spent an afternoon making only to shut his door in your face right afterwards—yup, total asshole.

Still, you had squared your shoulders back, not letting the slight affect you as you introduced yourself through the closed door anyway, before spinning on your heel and making the very short journey back to your own house right next-door.

You knew right from that moment that being Joel’s neighbor would be a very interesting, very peculiar, and maybe sometimes very aggravating circumstance.

The man triggered some smidgen of curiosity from you, though, you had to admit. There was something about the severe set of his brow, the deep-set wrinkles on a hardened face, that caught your attention. Not to mention a frown that you hadn’t seen alleviated for a moment just during the short few minutes you had spoken to him.

Joel hadn’t said a word back, instead letting you ramble on and on, until he roughly muttered thanks for the baked sweets, taking the plate from you to hold in large hands before the infamous door shutting incident.

Large hands. Surely, they would completely envelop yours.

And would they be rough? Callused? Clearly he had lived a hard life, and most likely a long life at that. You were friends with Tommy, and knew how much older he was, and if his brother was even older…

Clearing your throat, you shook your head sharply, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead to get rid of the sweat accumulating there. You glanced from the soil covering your fingers to the freshly planted flowers in front of you, grinning to yourself as you leaned back on your heels to get a better view of the big picture, satisfied with how the new addition to your little garden looked.

When you rose to your feet, it was with a small bunch of bright, freshly bloomed flowers in your hand, clutched tightly as you collected your shears and walked to your back porch.

Your backyard’s small garden has been your pride and joy since arriving in Jackson. Upon settling into your home that was much smaller than the one next-door, you had started the slow process of planting whatever seeds you could find or trade for, taking the time to care for the flowers that eventually grew until they flourished over months of hard work.

Now, you were deciding to share a little bit of that hard work to hopefully brighten the day of your gloomy next-door neighbor.

You hadn’t seen Joel much since he moved in. In fact, you weren’t sure if the man hardly ever left his house.

Ellie, on the other hand, you had caught a few times as she made the journey down from their front porch to the main street.

“Oh, hey!” she had called to you the first time you saw her as you sat on your porch one afternoon, returning your friendly wave with one of her own. “You’re the one who made the banana bread!”

“Yes, that was me,” you smiled, amused as to how you had been deemed the baker by the girl before she left, though not without her giving you a thanks that was considerably more genuine than the stoic man who had received the baked goods from you.

You huffed quietly, shaking any hint of bitterness from your mind. No, you didn’t want to think of him, or anybody, in that way. This world was too cruel, and staying alive was too rare and beautiful a thing to taint it by carrying that kind of hatred around in your heart.

So you dropped your shears off on the small table for gardening supplies on your back porch, before sliding open the back door and heading inside. You hurried through your house, letting the front door shut behind you without so much as a glance back before you were walking down your front path and up to Joel’s.

The stems of the flowers were still clutched tightly in your hands, and you distracted yourself by looking down at each one, noting the colors and thinking over each type as you waited for an answer to your knocking.

When there was none, you frowned, leaning forward on your tiptoes to knock again, a bit louder this time, as opposed to your gentle few taps on the wood that you had given the first time.

Shifting on your feet, you glanced down at your sandals, only then noticing how the bottom of the faded, pale blue sundress you wore today had dirt smudged on the hem.

“Oh,” you murmured to yourself, frowning as you reached a hand down to try and brush it off, only for your eyes to widen when you saw your fingers were covered in soil. “Oh, shoot.”

You glanced around before pivoting to look behind you, wondering if you could make a quick getaway back home to clean yourself up, when the door finally swung open.

Spinning back around, you looked up at the surly man holding it open, staring at you with that same crease in his brow as you stood there, holding a small assortment of flowers in very dirty hands, with an equally dirty sundress on his front porch.

“Um—” you coughed, clearing your throat as you straightened with the intensity of that gaze on you.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if Joel intended to look at people that way—like he was not only sizing them up, but sending a message on how quickly he could take you down if needed—before gesturing lamely with the flowers in your hands.

“These are for you,” you said quietly, trying to find your footing, but you were out of your element with a considerably unkempt appearance and that cold, analytical gaze focused on you.

So you looked away, taking a quiet, deep breath to compose yourself, finding it much easier to speak when you weren’t having to make such direct eye contact with Joel. “I thought it could help brighten you up a bit.”

Or, you thought it was easier to talk.

When you realized what you had said, your eyes widened, snapping back to his to see his face was still mostly blank, but his eyebrows slowly unfurled enough so he could arch one as you stammered, “That is, uh—I didn’t mean to say you weren’t bright. I just—your house, I mean. Brighten up your house.”

You winced internally, shifting again on your feet, and Joel’s gaze shifted, quickly scanning down your body before they snapped back up to your face.

Something about that quick once-over made you hold the flowers even tighter, feeling your cheeks heat in what had to have been embarrassment as he must have noticed how dirty you were when you showed up at his house.

“Sorry,” you murmured, holding back the subconscious need to brush out your dress when you remembered how dirty your fingers were. “I just got finished in the garden. Forgot to wash up.”

Joel shrugged then, a small movement of his shoulders, before you heard him speak for the second time since you had met him, “A little dirt never hurt nobody.”

Your cheeks were heated in embarrassment. Only embarrassment. Yes, you were just embarrassed and there was absolutely nothing else that you were feeling at that comment, nope. Nothing at all.

Shoving the flowers forward, you held them out for Joel to take, watching as he didn’t even flinch at the dirt that dropped from your fingers as he slowly took them, even as he was careful to avoid touching your hand when it retreated from the stems.

“Oh,” you perked up, leaning forward a bit to point towards a couple of the flowers, ignoring the way Joel leaned away at your movement, just like he did with the banana bread, as you said cheerfully, “Those ones are for Ellie. The yellow daisies.”

Joel stared at your face for a moment, his mouth notably set into a firm line—not a frown, you noticed—even as you smiled brightly up at him, before he slowly looked down at the daisies in his hand. “Okay.”

“They’re for cheer and friendship,” you continued, unable to hold back your enthusiasm as you spoke of the flowers, even though Joel had not asked, and most certainly didn’t care as he stared at you blankly again. “To help her settle in Jackson.”

“Flowers are going to help her settle in Jackson?” Joel said plainly, almost sarcastically, and you stiffened for a moment before smiling again.

“Well, a gesture of goodwill can help, I think,” you replied easily, your tone as light and genuine as you meant the sentiment to be, and Joel’s gaze flashed away from you at the sound of it.

“What about these?” he asked, holding the flowers almost as awkwardly as the way you had offered them, gesturing to the ones next to the daisies with his other hand.

“Oh, those are for you,” you replied, pointing to them yourself as you added, “Daffodils.”

“Okay.”

You both were silent for a moment, staring down at the collection of bright yellow flowers, and you watched as Joel almost seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, “What do I do with them?”

“Well,” you started, your lips titling up in a half-smile as you decided to take a risk and tease, “Traditionally, you put them in a vase. Fill it with water.”

“Oh, funny,” Joel muttered, and you bit your lip, worried that you may have crossed a line too soon.

But when you looked closer at his face, you swear it didn’t look quite as severe as before, and a giggle slipped past your lips as you realized he may have been teasing back, in his own way, before you could try and hold back the sound.

Joel glanced up at you at the sound, staring at your face before glancing down at your hands where they had subconsciously found the edge of your dress to hold onto it, and he quickly shifted away, stepping back into the safety of his home as his other hand found the door.

“Thanks,” he mumbled again, his voice just as coarse—and deep, and rough, and masculine, with that distinct Southern accent hanging from the word—as the first time he had thanked you for a gesture of neighborly goodwill, before he closed that door right in your face yet again.

A small sigh was pulled from your lungs, your shoulders deflating as you let yourself glare in momentary frustration at the barrier for just a split second before brightening up again.

“You’re welcome, Joel!” you called, turning away before pausing, considering before adding loudly, “Er, Mr. Miller? Do you prefer that? Or is Joel fine?”

There was no reply, but you hadn’t heard his footsteps carry away from the door yet either.

So you waited, perhaps for too long a moment, shifting awkwardly in your sandals and dirty dress before saying cheerfully, “Alright—Mr. Miller, then! Until you tell me otherwise, at least. Enjoy your flowers!”

You spun, your dress flaring around you as you skipped down the steps and bounced down the pathway, feeling at least somewhat successful that you had gotten him to take the flowers.

One could only hope that he actually put them in a vase and didn’t throw them away at the first chance.

Lord knew he could use that extra brightness.

[xo-cod]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-cod/729110250731520000/you-know-what-i-think-would-be-cute-if-one-of-the?source=share

will u expand on this pls?? esp w simon i love it it's SO CUTE🥰

thank you so much babe :") <33 i just did simon but i can def do the others if you'd like 🤍

continuation from here

cw: abusive past + fluff

"look daddy! that's like you and mum!" her soft laugh of happiness fills his ears and for a minute he just watches her, the shock plastered on his face and then he takes a glance at the tv again. the toys he was placing away in its rightful place was forgotten as he straightened his back, watching the disney characters. they seemed so happy, so in love.

he stood still for a minute, wondering if she was being genuine as he looks back to the little girl who was giggling at him. he didn't have a healthy childhood at home and even as he entered his adult life, nothing but blood, guns and wars surrounded him.

it took him by surprised that lieutenant ghost, the man who knew little to nothing about love and happiness and peace now had a wife and a baby who was growing up in the homes he always wished he could live in as a child.

the only romantic love he could see around him was the abuse his father put his mother through, watching the light dim from her eyes everyday was a sight simon didn't think he could ever forget.

there were some scars that were seared so deep, even after time had run its course the pain was still fresh as ever. he didn't think he would ever heal from the shackles that wrapped themselves so deeply around him, burdens that he had to carry day in and day out in his life all the time. even though being with you had significantly lessened them, there were still moments that made him question everything he ever knew.

so being a father was scary but so exciting. the nerves were bundled up deep inside him, utterly worried that he wouldn't be able to love the child like they deserved. he remembered the night he paced your hospital floor while you were sleeping, full of the medications they were giving. all he could do was helplessly look at you, his heart pounding at the bundle of joy soon to be arriving. could he love them? or did the trauma from his father run incredibly deep that he'd cower away and hide? they were irrational fears, he knew that much. but it didn't help either way, he wanted to be the possible father ever. but how could he do that when he was do broken from his own?

and then his baby was born and he almost gave out, trembling when he held her tiny tiny body in one arm as the hand of the other ever so gently caressed her head. he looked at you with shock, his big brown eyes tearing as he chuckles softly. that was a sight you'd never forget. a sight he could never either

"me an' mama huh?" he spoke softly, his gaze going from the tv to back to his daughter who nods eagerly at him. she's so happy, its enough to make him emotional. because of him, she was safe and loved. because of him, a man who thought he was too damaged beyond repair, had a child who completely adored him and was living happily

she would never know a life full of abuse and suffering, he would make sure of that

he would kill for her, die for her and everything in between yet even so the small niggling voice of doubt filled his head every damn day wondering if he was cut out to be a father. would he change tomorrow, become the abusive intoxicated asshole like the man raised him was? he grew up in a world full of pain and torture and guns, happy things were far and few between.

"you little munchkin, c'mere" he teased softly, holding her in his massive arms as they both cuddle close together. she shrieks in delight when he blows soft raspberries on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. and he only looks at his baby with a look of pure unconditional love, his smile widening at every happy sound she made. even if he never got the love he deserved as a child, the love he received from you and the baby you both created was enough for him.

it was times like this, moments that he cherished so close to his heart <33

[gallusrostromegalus]

So how much are you willing to talk about Ulquiorra?

I will talk so much about him. There are so many things wrong with that man, but to make a brief list of his most notable features:

He's dumb as hell.

I say that with tremendous sympathetic affection. Ulquiorra barely thinks. It's easy for him to do nothing and go nowhere. He eats chocolate in the middle of the night in the dark. When he gets access to a garden, he often just stands around in it. He's often waiting for things to happen.

He just LOOKS smart compared to nearly everyone else in the fic because he doesn't have much to say, so he's not constantly opening his mouth to jam his foot down it.

Consequently, Ulquiorra starts off having little to no initiative of his own. Stuff just happens to him. Some of that is because he is colossally depressed, but he's depressed because the idea that he has control over his circumstances has straight up not occured to him.

The first person he meets that shows him that "You can just do whatever you want, forever" and the boundless joy it is to be a creature of free will is, unfortunately, Aizen. And Aizen left off the key corollary "-EVERYONE is allowed to do whatever they want, forever. We are all equal in God's dead, empty eye sockets."

So Ulquiorra wanders around trying out this "doing stuff" thing without any concept of ethics.

I realize I am infantilizing this character, but I am doing so in a twilight zone "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up to watch a fully anatomically functional person who is able to speak and blow stuff up with his mind go through the emotional development steps of a toddler?", because I think that's a fun high-concept premise to explore with him. Yeah, what if a toddler could speak articulately and also destroy you? How would he act? How does he feel, learning to have feelings?

It'd probably suck for him and everyone around him, and make him very easy to manipulate, for one thing.

So I don't think Ulquiorra is evil, because evil takes intent. He is dangerous to be in the general proximity of, though

Like a horse

lose

in a hospital!

I love that sketch as much as the next person but if an IRL horse got loose in a hospital it would be bedlam, but the horse would be mostly confused and probably willing to follow around the first person who looked like they knew what they were doing.

You know, like how Ulquiorra follows Aizen around because that's the first guy he's met who THINKS he knows what he's doing, and is good at convincing others he knows what he's doing!

So Ulquiorra's entire first character arc is being exposed to more and more people and realizing he does have control over his life, and that he can take actions, and that those actions have consequences.

Like being emotionally devastated by a teenage girl because he was an asshole to her and she's willing to scream at him about it.

Hm.

Consequences hurt.

He lives through the Las Noches arc, and decides to follow his own star!

He follows it right through a portal that was not meant for him and now he's sort of trapped in somewhere he's really, really, really, really, REALLY not supposed to be.

But it's a beautiful place

And nobody is forcing him to do anything.

And for a long time, he just stands out in the garden, waiting for something.

But then

Ulquiorra experiences a novel pair of emotions that he's recently learned from his new...

Orihime is too mad at him for him to call her a friend.

-but he did learn the names and therefore the experience of two new emotions from her: boredom, and it's natural remedy: curiosity.

So Ulquiorra's second character arc is him learning how to be himself without anyone telling him who he is and what he ought to be.

He's travelling up Maslow's hierarchy with the inscrutable but unstoppable instinctual drive of a salmon returning to its spawning ground.

This has lead to an important discovery on my part: Ulquiorra is terrific for comedy because he is the ULTIMATE straight man to everyone else's nonsense, because he's immune to nearly all nonsense.

He doesn't have societal taboos to be hung up on, nor any sense of what is "normal", so the sole thing he geta hung up on is a lack of internal consistency in others, meaning he can slip between straight man to the absurdist at the drop of a single scathing observation. Yet, he retains a sort of understated dignity that compels people to try to earn his respect.

Hence, I'm having fun turning him loose on the most absurd, internally inconsistent and frankly, insane batch of characters in the series:

The Royal Guard.

:)

[dragoncat223]

I’ve been thinking about this for the past couple of days. A more mature Scooby-Doo series can be done, and it can be done well. I’ve seen a lot of proposals for an adult Scooby-Doo series, so here’s mine.

Fred doesn’t have family. His parents change from series to series. The only consistent thing about Fred’s family is that it is uncertain, so it starts like this: Something strange and unexplained happened to Fred’s parents when he was a child. He was five years old and ever since he’s been filled with only questions. So he grows up with a curiosity that can never be satisfied. He goes to college, and gets a degree in physics. All the moving parts of any kind of machine is have always fascinated him. As a little ten year old he’d stand for hours in Krispy Kreme watching the machine that makes the donuts. So he’s an inventor. His pride and joy is his old van he paid $100 for an fixed up himself.

The Blakes are old money. They haven’t known financial insecurity since the 1610s. So they’ve got houses, and planes, and helicopters, and cars. Old cars. But the head of the family, (picks name out of hat) Robert “Dick” Blake has no idea how to take care of them. He’s a business man. He finds Fred Jones, a genius mechanic, and hires him on the spot.

Now, Dick loves his daughters dearly. All six of them. He’s been grooming his oldest to take over the company when he retires. Unfortunately that means he gets to spend less and less time with his other daughters to the point where his youngest daughter, Daphne, only gets to see him on holidays and her birthday (he’s trying, he really is). But Daphne is fine with that. After being raised in the lap of luxury, silver spoon in her mouth, she has had access to almost every hobby imaginable. She got excellent grades at her fancy private schools, and in her free time she did Karate, Boxing, Kick boxing, Mixed Martial arts, gymnastics, Ballet, tap dancing, tennis, basketball, soccer, volley ball, skiing, knitting, crochet, baking, embroidery, sewing, synchronized swimming, you name it, she’s done it. She graduated college with a degree in marketing she didn’t really want, wondering what she was going to do with her life. So, she wonders into the garage one day and discovers Fred working on a car. So she asks him about it. She listens and she learns. Eventually, they stop talking about cars. Daphne asks about Fred’s inventions and Fred asks about Daphne’s hobbies. They are fast friends and once they get close enough, Fred tells Daphne about his parents. Daphne immediately pledges to help her friend (and now secret crush) figure out what happened to his parents.

Velma is Daphne’s genius best friend. They were roommates in college. The building Velma had all her lab classes in had Daphne’s last name on it. Velma worked hard to get her scholarship for her forensic chemistry degree, and she was not going to let some spoiled, rich, daddy’s girl, ruin it for her. But one night Velma was walking back to her dorm after dark. Everyone knows to be wary on a college campus after dark, but Velma had just studied her brain into mush. She got cornered by some drunk asshole. Velma in her fear and panic, froze. Her voice wouldn’t work, and she feared for her life, when suddenly, the guy gets punched in the face. By Daphne. The guy crumples to the ground, Daphne grabs Velma by the wrist, and they don’t stop running until they are safely back in their dorm. Velma never doubts her again.

Now, for all their skills and knowledge, none of the three of them, know how to cook. Which is where Shaggy and Scooby come in. I saw someone (on Twitter, I think) say that Shaggy could have diabetes (I don’t know anything about diabetes so I am really sorry about any inaccuracies) and Scooby is Shaggy’s low blood sugar alert dog. I really like the idea that Shaggy is a licensed dietitian, and the only one who knows how to cook. After every case, shaggy herds them all back home and makes a nice, home cooked meal for everyone. Lasagna, stir fry, curry, soup, idk food.

Shaggy is Fred’s roommate, after college. They have a deal, Shaggy cooks, Fred cleans.

In my mind, Scooby starts off as a normal dog. On the gang’s very first case together, they encounter the series’ over all villain, or maybe the first villain they face is an actual witch or something I don’t know, but this witch is caught and tries to put a curse on the gang, but it hits Scooby instead, and now he’s a talking dog. He’s still very much Shaggy’s alert dog, but I like to think he becomes concerned with everyone’s health at least a little bit. They do all that running around, and all these mysteries they solve are very high stress, so he likes to make sure they get plenty of rest.

I’m not really sure about their first case, but I think every episode would start with a grizzly murder. We are using the R rating for blood and guts and bones and death. Not sex or nudity. And Fred is the only one who gets to swear.

Now, Daphne is the one that talks to clients. If they’re particularly shaken up, Shaggy will make them a hot drink and maybe give them a blanket.

I call it Scooby Doo: Private Investigators

I have more thoughts about this, so if you want to know more please ask!!