#if he would calm down for five seconds she could do shit to him that doesn't even have a name yet. shit that would make mythal blush.

[princehendir]

Anders standing delicately on the edge of the battlefield casting his little healing spells and lamenting how evil and fucked up and irredeemable he is while Merrill rips people to shreds with vines and casts Thousand Years Of Nightmares Curse and boils the blood in their veins like, that's crazy dude.

[murdrdocs]

HAUNTING YOUR BED. mike schmidt

description. you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips

→ pt 2 to nothing real

includes. GN! reader (i think), simp mike, abby !!!!, fluff galore, more pining, more domesticity, kissing, one boner mention

wc: 2.2k+

a/n: finally wrote a pt 2 to something who would've thought. title from haunt//bed

When Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight. 

His shift ended earlier than he originally anticipated and since he’d clocked out, his body was begging for a shower and sleep. Maybe even just sleep, depending on how comforting his bed looked. If he could tolerate it, maybe even a few bites of a frozen meal. 

This is his original plan. 

But somehow due to the sleep induced haze, Mike had forgotten that you were babysitting Abby tonight. Not the sitter that had taken your place for a couple of nights, completely incomparable to you to the point where Mike didn’t even waste his time. Abby, though, spent a solid ten minutes each night complaining about the temporary sitter and another five minutes longing for you. 

(Mike felt the same but he would never let Abby know lest he wanted you to find out within 2 business days) 

So truthfully, whenever Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight, and then as soon as he steps into his home, his vision clears up just enough to see you in the kitchen and his body introduces a burst of energy spurred on by your light squeal and suddenly he can tolerate an hour spent with you and Abby. 

“Shit!” your swear shocks Abby as much as it does Mike, the word foreign to his ears from your mouth but it sounds completely natural when you say it. It’s small, a tiny detail, but it reminds Mike that he doesn’t know you. At least, not the you that exists out of the four walls of the Schmidt household. 

He doesn’t know what you wear when you’re not babysitting, or what your nonprofessional personality is like. He’s sure you’re more or less the same, but for some reason, Mike wants to consider the opposite. 

Despite his rampant overthinking, Abby points at the jar sitting on the end table towards the entrance of the home. 

“Swear jar!” she alerts you. Or maybe it’s more of a command. Either way, you shamefully step away from the counter, wipe your hands on the apron you wear, and start to walk out of the kitchen. 

Mike guesses you’re heading for your purse, which he assumes is most likely sitting on the bench in front of the window where it usually is. Your plans are halted when you’re made aware of Mike’s presence, and when you say “oh”, Mike feels like he’s living his days over again. 

Just a few weeks ago, a similar circumstance, a similar feeling. 

Mike touches his hair at the memory, hoping it’s long enough to warrant another cut from you, but it’s the perfect length and he drops his hand. 

“Hey,” he greets you first, trying to remain calm and behave how he usually does. But suddenly he doesn’t know how to. Does he usually say ‘hey’? Or has he been saying ‘hi’ this entire time and didn’t realize it? Maybe even ‘hello’? 

You seem to care less about that than Mike does, greeting him back casually and then continuing your journey to your purse. Mike watches as you dig around in it for a second, pull a dollar out, and then slide it through the created slip in the top of the mason jar. 

Then, you reenter the kitchen and Mike suddenly realizes that time has been moving around him and he’s been stuck between it all, too enamored by you engaging in minute movements to do so himself. 

He throws his keys in the bowl and slips his shoes off. 

“What’s uh …” He steps into the kitchen, attempting to get a glimpse at what Abby is doing. She’s staring down at the counter, standing on a small step stool that makes her a lot taller than the counter instead of being a few inches off. “What’s going on in here?” 

Abby turns around, and Mike gets a glimpse of a big plastic bowl in front of her, along with the carton of eggs, the jug of vegetable oil, and a cake mix box. 

If he needs even more clarification, Abby happily declares: “We’re making a cake!” 

Initially, Mike’s upset. His logical (grumpy, in Abby’s words) side comes out and he’s thinking about how at least two eggs that could’ve been used for breakfast has gone down the drain and cake provides no nutritional value so not only is Abby going to be hungry, she’s also going to be bouncing off the walls from the sugar intake. 

His thoughts show on his face, just like they always do, and then Mike is looking over at you from where you’re grabbing the whisk out of the drawer and your head lifts. “I dropped the shells into the bowl,” you add, initially oblivious to Mike’s inner turmoil. Your mishap explains your out of character swearing, and Mike would comment on it but instead he’s trying to make his face neutral. 

But you see it, the exhaustion and slight frustration and worry. 

You send him a smile that’s nothing more than one side of your lips pulling into your cheek, pronouncing the apple of it that presents a faux complimentary color to your skin tone. You look … upset? Are you upset? 

Mike can’t tell and this makes him feel worse. 

He decides that instead of pouting and grumbling about it, he unzips his jacket, throws it onto the kitchen table, rolls the sleeves of his thermal up, and then steps to join you two. 

“Let me help.” 

Mike ends up wearing a pink apron that he knows for sure does not belong to the Schmidt household. At least, it didn’t whenever he left for work. 

Mike attempts to hide his surprise whenever Abby excitedly tells him that you brought the apron for him. His eyebrows lift, he looks over at you, and you’re suddenly really focused on the written instructions on the back of the cake box even though they really are incredibly simple. 

“Really? She did?” 

Abby hums and Mike hopes you’ll look over at him, but you don’t, instead gnawing on your bottom lip and squinting as you concentrate even harder. 

“Mm. It’s cute. I like it.” And that’s when you lift your eyes, sending them over to Mike to give him a quick once over. 

“It suits you,” you compliment, just before putting the box down and grabbing the cake pan. 

Some time has passed. The cake has been baked, decorated (white frosting with pink, green, and yellow swirls from Abby), and eaten with slightly freezer burnt ice cream. Abby has pouted when Mike declared one giant slice was enough for her. 

The shower has turned on and off, Abby has run into the living room to give you a hug and say goodnight, and now comes the part that Mike hates the most. 

He’s still tired, maybe minutely more energetic from the sugary cake, but his body is still begging for a good rest. Yet, he doesn’t want you to leave. 

You start to grab your things, jacket pulled back on, purse thrown over your shoulder. Just before you can slip your shoes on, Mike stands from his spot on the recliner. 

“Do you want another slice?” He gestures lamely at the cake on the kitchen table. “We can’t eat this all on our own and I refuse to let Abby try.” 

A small laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, it’s okay. Abby should be able to enjoy the fruits of her labor.” 

���She’ll enjoy it too much until she has a cavity and I have a dentist bill.” A pause where your eyes shift over to the cake, then back to Mike. 

“I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“If that’s what you’re worried about then you’ve got it all wrong.” Mike replies as he walks to the cabinets, pulling out two small plates and then two forks right beneath it. He slices the cake, the pieces almost proportionate but you seem to have gotten just a bit more. 

Maybe it’ll take you longer to eat and Mike will be in your presence for just a bit more. 

It’s silent for just a few moments before you’re talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. 

Raves about the cake the three of you made turns into reminiscing about the triple chocolate cake they used to serve at Sparky’s before they underwent new management. The talk of new management turns into you ranting to Mike about the manager at your day job and Mike listens intensely, thrilled to have a new piece of information to add to the puzzle of your life. When you apologize, a little shy and maybe even embarrassed, Mike shakes it off instantly. 

“Don’t apologize for speaking your mind,” he tells you. You joke about the line being poetic and Mike finds himself revealing that he used to write teenage angst poetry in his bedroom at night. When you laugh, it’s not as if you’re belittling him, it’s different. Light, airy, filled with enthusiastic shock and a little bit of wonder. 

It makes him laugh, too, and for a moment he forgets that his sister is sleeping just down the hall. 

You both seem to remember at the same time, laughter tapering off into small intakes of air and then fizzling off completely in the vibrant night air. 

He glances at the clock on the wall. 

10:47. 

“It’s getting late,” Mike thinks out loud. 

When he turns back to you, you look a little sadder. “I guess I should get going then, yeah?” 

Shit. Mike wants the opposite. He wants you to stay over for the night. He’ll take the couch if it means you’ll take his bed. He wonders if the small space would smell like you afterwards. He pictures you sleeping in his clothes, forced to wear them instead of the jeans and sweater you wear now. 

He’s thinking too far ahead. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

You stand anyway, taking a final bite of your cake before you set the fork down. There’s still a tiny piece left, waiting for you, just as Mike is. 

He stands too. 

“No, it’s okay. You have work in the morning and I shouldn’t be on the road this late anyway.” Your jacket is zipped up, your purse is back over your shoulders. 

Mike says your name, firm despite the low volume. It’s vulnerable, a plea almost. It stops you, makes you look at him with wide and wondering eyes. 

It’s on him now. He’s the one who has to speak. 

He takes a breath. He licks his lips. 

“I would like it if you stayed. Honest.” 

His admission has weight to it. The words are that of a concerned friend, but the way his hands nervously play with his jeans and the way his eyes bounce around the room with your frame as a continuous anchor says much more than the eight words could have. 

Your voice just barely shakes when you speak. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” 

In the nervous energy that rakes through Mike’s body, it’s unclear to him who moves first. All he knows is one moment he’s staring into your eyes, and then the next his lips are against yours. 

The kiss is soft, nothing more than the lengthened press of lips against lips. His hand cradles the side of your face, yours bunches the fabric of his thermal around his bicep. And while it might be nothing objectively, it’s so much to Mike. For him to finally feel your lips against his, rougher than he imagined but even that means something to him. 

It’s euphoric. 

Your lips pull back from each other, but neither of you move. So, Mike is clear this time whenever he initiates, giving you one more safe kiss before he starts moving his lips against yours. Still, it’s polite, just like you deserve. 

His free hand presses into your middle back, pulling your chest into his. He tilts his head just a little for comfort. He’s holding back. 

You, on the other hand, aren’t. 

You pull Mike impossibly closer to you by his shirt, your other hand digging into the short hair at the back of Mike’s head. You turn the kiss into one of more desperation, parting your lips to introduce open mouthed kisses instead, slipping your tongue against his. 

Mike is trying to keep his composure as he reciprocates. He’s trying to muffle his little sounds before they even come out, push them down his throat. But they climb up anyway, jumping from his mouth to yours with the access. 

He can’t control himself whenever your body is pressed against his. He can’t hold back when he tastes the chocolate cake on the tip of your tongue and the mint leftover from the gum you’d been chewing earlier in the night. He presses his hips against yours, shamelessly displaying the tent that’s growing. He runs his hands along your sides and back and hips, feeling every curve he has analyzed with only his eyes from afar. You’re softer up close and it makes Mike want to feel you as you are, devoid of any clothing to cover you. He hopes he’ll get his wish soon. 

You pull away and Mike has to restrain himself from following your lips. 

“If I stay over,” his ears instantly perk up. “Can I wear your plaid pajama pants?” 

The grin he gives you is genuine. It hurts his cheeks and heals his soul. 

“Of course.”

[sebscore]

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

pairings: charles leclerc x driver!reader // lando norris x driver!reader // george russell x driver!reader // alex albon x driver!reader

warnings: theft. swearing. talks about sexuality and a sexual reference. cops.

author’s note: the idea comes from this ask that someone send my lovely wife! 🥹 I changed it from a car to a camera, because I don’t want my poor baby to have her car stolen :((

masterlist

•••••••

“Now that you’ve won Monaco two times in a row, you’re too good to play with us?” Alex teased the younger one as she stood on the side of the public padel court.

Y/N stuck out her tongue at him. “Not the guy in a Williams trying to come for me.”

“Auwch.” Lando said to Alex, impressed by his friend’s comeback.

“We can only play with 4 people, and I’m sure Miss Monaco would love to be umpire.” George argued, giving the young woman an expectant look.

She quickly nodded at the tall Brit, holding her hand up to her head as if she were a soldier. “Yes, sir!”

“No! She can’t be umpire! She’s gonna call all my shots out.” Lando complained, pointing at her.

“She’s not, Lando.” Charles defended her, although there was a doubtful tone to his voice.

Y/N smirked at the McLaren driver. “Well, now I will.”

“See, Charles? We’re gonna lose now.” He told his doubles partner.

“I mean- you were gonna lose anyway.” George started the healthy competitive trash talk.

“OH!” Charles and Lando loudly chorused, pretending to be hurt by his words.

“Warm-up first, or do we just get straight into it?” Alex asked the three guys after everyone calmed down.

Charles, George and Lando glanced at one another. “Just get straight into it? It’s not like we’re gonna take this too seriously anyway.” George suggested, already knowing it would turn into a shit show soon.

Everyone agreed with a small chuckle, and started taking their own respective places on the court.

“Alright, who’s gonna serve?” Charles loudly asked.

“Wait! We should do it like they do in tennis! Deciding with a coin toss!” Y/N suggested.

“You have a coin?”

“I think I have one in my bag! Oh, I also have my camera with me, should we do like a before and after picture?” She snickered.

“That sounds good.” Alex stemmed in, the others nodding as well. “Yeah, I like it when I’m all sweaty and people take pictures of me.” Lando sarcastically joked.

“Basically our job.” Charles grinned.

“They should calm down on all the can-“

“HEY! THAT’S MY CAMERA!” Y/N’s shouting interrupted their small talk, their heads swiftly turning to where she was standing.

They were just about to ask for a clarification when they saw the young woman run after, what seemed, an unrecognizable man that was holding her camera.

“Y/N don’t do that!” George yelled to no avail, not wanting her to get hurt by the thief.

The quartet didn’t hesitate in grabbing their own stuff before running after their unhinged colleague- Lando also quickly took Y/N’s bag in his hands, figuring none of her other stuff should be stolen too.

The five of them watched in frustration as the mysterious man climbed into a car that drove away at high speed.

“We have to go after him!” Y/N yelled, agony on her face at the potential loss of the device. “Did someone come by car?”

Alex, Charles and George shook their heads, while Lando nervously glanced at his friend. “Uh, I did.”

“Norris, please?” She begged, growing more impatient by the second.

“Can’t you just by a new one? It’s really dang-“

“It’s the camera that you bought for me!” Y/N admitted, hoping it would convince the Brit to chase them down.

Fortunately, it worked. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Do all of us go or…?” Alex hesitated following the two youngest ones.

“Yes, Albono! The more, the better! We can ambush them!” Y/N loudly answered, resulting in the whole group following Lando to his car.

There was a collective disappointment as they made it to his car, not expecting his blue Jolly Fiat to be parked there.

Lando spoke up before anyone else could. “Look, if I had known we would be doing a Fast & The Furious, I would have come with another car. Get the fuck in.”

Lando got in the driver’s seat with Y/N taking taking the seat next to him as she knew where they had sped off to.

The three others were about to step in, but quickly found out that there were only 2 seats in the back. “Uh, someone is gonna have to stay behind.” George noted.

“Oh, no, someone can just sit on someone else, it’s fine, I’ve done it before.” Lando assured them.

Alex, Charles and George gave each other a nervous glance. “Uh, so who-“

“Come on, ladies! Get it before those assholes see all the ugly pictures I’ve taken of you guys.” Y/N’s words shut them up and they cramped into the backseats, Alex somehow ending on George’s lap.

“Let’s catch some thieves!” Lando shouted out, although the speed of his Jolly made the moment anti-climactic.

Meanwhile Y/N instructed Lando on where to go, Alex suggested someone call the police- which Charles decided to do since he had the best knowledge of the French language amongst the three of them.

“Why does this thing go so slow?” George criticized the car, a judging look on his face.

“They took inspiration from the Mercedes.” Lando bit back, not appreciating the slander of his car.

Alex, and Y/N snickered at the comment. “More like from Williams.” The youngest corrected.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Alex defended his team.

The attention went from Alex to Charles as he hung up the phone. “They’re gonna dispatch a team, and advised us to respect the rules of the road.”

“Fuck the rules, I want my camera back.” Y/N said, yelling at Lando as he almost went the wrong way.

“You’re not being a good navigator right now!” He screamed back.

She groaned at him. “I’m literally pointing at where you’re supposed to go!”

“You’re not pointing good enough!” The two 23 year-olds start bickering back-and-forth with one another, much to the dismay of the other three men in the small car.

“Why are they always like this?” Alex whispered to George and Charles.

The both of them shrugged their shoulders. “Unresolved sexual frustrations is my guess,” he mumbled, “at least on Lando’s part, I’m still not sure what Y/N is.”

The Williams and Ferrari driver snickered at George’s answer, somehow understanding what he was referring to.

“Are you gossiping about me, Russell?” Y/N suddenly turned around in her seat, catching the Brit off-guard.

He merely shook his head, his eyes widened.

“Good, you wouldn’t want the others to know what you’ve been up to.” Despite the sweet smile on her face, the threatening tone to her words made the Mercedes driver feel uneasy.

“THERE!” Y/N’s loud voice made the entire car flinch, Lando momentarily letting go of his steering wheel.

“Y/N ARE YOU CRAZY? WE COULD HAVE CRASHED!” Alex scolded the young woman, almost falling out of the car as he was still seated on George’s lap.

“I’m sorry, Albono,” she smiled sheepishly, “but look, the police stopped them.”

The four men in the car let out a collective sigh of relief, glad their adventure was over.

Lando parked the car on the side of the road, behind the thieves’ getaway car. They could see a cop walking over to them.

“You called?” He asked in French, glancing at the five of them.

The drivers shamelessly looked at Charles, the man internally rolled his eyes at them, but he answered his questions.

After some questions back-and-forth, Charles pointed at the woman in the passenger’s seat.

“Y-your camera?” The cop asked in a heavy French accent.

Y/N nodded her head, a polite smile present. “Yes.”

“Would you, uh, mind filling out a little paperwork in the combi? You’ll get your camera back as well and can check if there’s any damage.”

“Sure, no problem.” She gave her colleagues a smile, and made her way towards the large cop car.

The four drivers remained quiet as the cop didn’t follow Y/N, instead lingering around Lando’s car. “It’s a Jolly?” He asked.

“Yes!” Lando answered, cringing at his over-polite voice.

“Aren’t those for just four people…” The man gave the four of them a stern glance, raising an eyebrow.

They awkwardly chuckled, not knowing what to properly answer. “Uh, well, you know, our friend, she, uh-“

“I’ll let it slide, this one time only!” The cop raised his index finger, indicating this would be the one and only time he’ll let them get away with it. “And don’t speed around. I know you guys are Formula One drivers, but you also have to respect the rules.”

“Yeah, we will. Thank you so much.” George thanked him in name of everyone.

Y/N came walking back to the car, a happy look on her face as she had her camera back. “It’s not damaged!” She excitedly told them.

“That’s great, Y/N.” Lando was relieved his present for her hadn’t been broken.

“You guys are free to leave, but next time I’ll have to give you a fine, alright?” The cop reminded them one more time.

“It won’t happen again, thank you so much.” The group of five chorused several sayings of gratitude, before driving back to the sports center.

“Well, that’s going to be a fun story.” Charles snickered, dimples on display.

The others laughed, only then realizing how bizarre this whole situation was. “I don’t think people are even going to believe this.” George noted.

“Oh my god…” Y/N mumbled.

The heads of her four friends turned towards her. “What is it? Is something wrong with the camera?” Lando asked, concerned about the device.

“Those fuckers took a selfie with it!” She exclaimed, disbelief written all over her face.

“What?!”

“Look at this,” she handed it to the three guys in the back, the small screen showing the two men in their getaway car, “who fucking does that?”

“Well, at least we have proof now…”

[stormberry-12]

the pogues/ESPECIALLY JJ would protect innocent!reader SO MUCH. like she could be the youngest or something and they would go back for her (for ex. when they had to leave jb in s3). anyways jj would so definitely say something like, “you’re like their little sister, but you’re MY girl.” yk

my woman ~ jj maybank x reader

Ahh yes, I totally agree, and I LOVE the innocent!reader and JJ trope>>>

pairing: jj x innocent!fem!reader

warnings: slight language, reader in danger, mega fluff.

notes: lowercase intended, this was made late at night and not rlly edited srry if its bad lmao, not from season 3 but a close concept. :)

you shifted around and felt the sun on your face as your eyes fluttered open. you were in the twinkie bumping along a winding road, clinging onto jj, who was sitting in his seat, like a koala. or as jay called it, "the front pack", it was like a piggyback but on his front because he always wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.

you shifted your legs around his torso and lifted your head from the crook of his neck.

"hiya, cupcake," he whispered softly, taking one of his arms that was wrapped around you and moving it so he could brush strands of hair from out of your eyes. "good nap?"

you nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes, and he smiled. you suddenly recalled how you had gotten here and relief washed over you.

you were running through alleyways on the cut, you felt betrayed. where had the pogues gone? they were there with you five seconds ago and now you were running away from those bloody square groupers alone.

over by the pogues, jj was having a mental breakdown, "where did she go man?"

"damn it!" john b exclaimed."pope, i thought she was behind you when we cut down this way!

"we have to go back for her-" jj houghed.

"i don't know jay..."

"no... no. we have to." he held his hat in one hand and ran the other through his hair in distress.

"he's right, we have to." pope agreed.

"come on man, we finally lost those guys and now you want to follow em?" john b sighed.

"jb you of all people should understand, she's like a little sister to you man! she's still only 16 and this kind of stuff scares the shit out of her, i can't do that to her guys-"

"john b we're going after her," kie pleaded.

"god! we're wasting time, i'm gonna go after her, even if i have to do it by myself!" jj ran off in your last seen direction. john b gave in and followed along with the rest of the pogues, they all knew jj was right, and their group wouldn't survive without you.

as you continued to run, blood pumping through your ears, you looked for the best spot to hide behind, trying to throw them off. you slid behind a large dumpster and listened as the sets of footsteps of the two men ran past you.

you waited a moment, calming your breathing before you moved from behind the bin. you jumped as the footsteps came back in your direction, but instead of those square groupers, it was jj and the pogues.

"y/n!" j sighed in relief scooping you up into his arms. "I'm so sorry, that will never happen again-"

you just stood there too exhausted to complain, your face buried in his chest. john b brought the twinkie around the corner and you all piled in, driving off into the night.

"you came back for me," you smiled at your boyfriend wrapping your arms around his neck, still facing him on his lap.

"of course," jj said. "you know you're like their little sister, we honestly would fall apart without you... and your my girl."

"your girl?" you giggled.

"my girl, my woman, my soulmate." he repeated smoothly pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. "you sure you're okay?"

"yeah," you said, leaning into his touch, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "perfect,"

[penny00dreadful]

Before He Cheats

AO3

“Munson Home for the Recently Deceased, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds before a light chuckle crackled through the speaker.

“Is that really how you answer the phone?”

Eddie smiled to himself. “Got you to laugh didn’t it?”

“Suppose.”

“Plus, no one calls the landline anymore unless they’re trying to sell something. You trying to sell me something?”

“No. No, I uh… I’m looking for an Eddie Munson?”

“Only an Eddie Munson? Only one? What a terrible fate. Well you’re in luck, my good sir. This is he. What can I do you for?”

The voice on the end of the line gave a light laugh once again but went silent almost immediately after. 

Eddie stared at the wall in his apartment, waiting for something to happen. In the quiet he could hear the guy letting out little nervous breaths before one big inhale.

“I um. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, I’d prefer to do it face to face but I don’t know where you live and you probably wouldn’t even want me at your house afterwards and I did find you on social media but it’s not something I wanted to do in DM’s, you deserve better than that-”

“Okay, hold on, slow down.” Eddie tried to ignore the panic starting to kick around in his heart. “Is someone dead? Is someone injured?”

“No! No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I told Robin that I’d be terrible at this but I couldn’t just let it go on without saying anything-”

“You haven’t really said anything. You’re just rambling.”

“Right. Sorry. Again, blame Robin. I’m around her too much. But… okay. Do you know Rick Lipton?”

Eddie felt the panic leave him, replaced only by irritation as he sighed through his nose. “What did he do now?”

“He… um. I’m sorry to ask this but are you his partner? Like, romantic partner?”

Eddie scowled. “And if I am?”

There was movement against the line, almost as if the other guy was nodding. 

“Shit.” He muttered before picking back up in volume again. “Listen, I didn’t know. He told me he was single and I only found out because Robin lives in the same building as you and she saw him with you and asked the neighbours and they said you’d been a thing for like two years and you have to believe me if I’d known I wouldn’t have touched him, I don’t fuck around with cheaters-”

“How long?”

Eddie had expected to feel betrayal or sadness, devastation or heartbreak and they were there. 

They were just lost under a tidal wave of anger and indignation. He was even surprised at himself that he didn’t feel more caught off guard. 

Rick had never cheated before (that Eddie was aware of) but he had always had a wandering eye and a few off-colour jokes about 'going to find someone more his speed’. 

They’d never really felt all that funny.

Maybe it was because their relationship had felt dead for the last few months. 

They barely talked, they just existed around each other. The sex had all but dried up as well and whenever they did have it, it was completely impersonal. Get in, get out, move back to separate parts of the apartment if either of them even bothered to stay over. 

More often than not one of them would make a quick exit back to their home.

Eddie had been thinking a breakup was on the horizon for a while. 

But that was no excuse to cheat. 

At least have the fucking decency to end the relationship first before going out and chasing tail. 

“Um, like four or five weeks." The guy on the phone muttered, clearly ashamed. "I’m so sorry Eddie, I swear to god if I knew I would never… I have- I have proof if you need it.”

“If it’s a sex tape I don’t think I want to see it.” Eddie was trying really hard to maintain his calm and not snap through the phone. 

If what the guy was saying was true, then he was an innocent party in this.

Didn’t make it hurt any fucking less though.

Didn’t make him any less pissed.

“If- no it’s not a sex tape.” The voice sounded scandalised. “Fucking hell, do people actually do that?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as though the guy was waiting for Eddie to continue but Eddie just let it hang in the air. He wasn’t ashamed. 

But he was definitely going to have to purge those files now.

“Okay well… It's just a photo. I posted it to my insta a week ago but he was really weird about it being up, which in hindsight makes a lot of sense, so I took it down.” He said, quiet and sad. “I can send it to you if you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips. 

“Please hold.”

He unceremoniously dropped the phone with a clatter, leaving it dangling from the cord, bouncing against the wall and probably blowing the guy’s ear out. 

Maybe in the morning Eddie would feel a little bad about that, but for now it just felt very satisfying. 

He rifled around in his bedsheets for his phone before making his way back to the landline. 

“Still there?”

“Yes. Ow, by the way.”

Eddie just shrugged, well aware the guy couldn’t see him but whatever. He wasn’t in the mood. 

“Send it on.”

Only a moment later his phone pinged with a notification and Eddie opened the photo.

Well. 

Shit. 

There was Rick, in amongst a crowd at some nightclub, plastered to the side of some pretty boy who looked like he had a regular workout routine. 

Ugh.

Eddie couldn’t handle gym bunnies, the amount they could bench or whatever was all they ever talked about. But this must be the guy on the other end of the phone. 

@King.Steve.Of.House.Hair

Rick had King Steve’s earlobe in between his teeth and from the angle of the selfie Eddie could see his hands were wandering.

It looked like some kind of Halloween night, if the teeny tiny little sailor outfit was anything to go by.

God damn.

But even so, Eddie still wanted to be sure that what he was seeing was… well. What he was seeing. 

“Steve, is it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realise I hadn’t given you my name yet.” Steve let out a nervous laugh, like he was expecting Eddie to jump through the phone and strangle him.

Eddie was fit to strangle someone but Steve wasn’t in his crosshairs.

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me, what does Rick have tattooed on his ass?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. “He doesn’t have a tattoo on his ass? Not that I’ve seen anyway. But I can tell you he does have his taint pierced. For some fucking reason.”

Eddie gave a quiet laugh at that, despite the monumentally fucked up situation and the final cracking piece of his heart breaking away. Rick had that piercing by the time Eddie had met him. He insisted he’d gotten it because it was sexy. Eddie was pretty sure he’d just lost a bet.

Eddie was no stranger to intimate piercings himself. He had his frenum done a while back. 

That one he’d definitely done because it felt sexy.

He looked back down at his phone, idly flipping through Steve’s profile and all of his other photos. 

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about how hot Steve was, how it was juxtaposed with a soft cuteness that almost felt like it didn’t belong to someone with such broad shoulders and defined arms. 

He hated himself for thinking about Steve’s attractiveness. 

It felt wrong.

Even though he was pretty much single now.

Even if Rick didn’t know it yet. 

But fuck him. 

He’d find out.

One way or the other.

And Eddie was nothing if not a drama queen.

But he wouldn’t do anything tonight.

No tonight he would just… hurt.

And smoke.

A lot.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice came through to him. “You okay?”

Eddie swallowed, finding it a little more difficult than he expected it to be and realised he’d just been staring down at his phone in silence. 

The screen had gone black.

“Yeah.” He answered, his voice thick. “I’m fine.”

Steve hummed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Eddie laughed. It was wet and sniffly and vulnerable and horrible. “What are you gonna do from over the phone far away… wherever you are?”

“I dunno. I could just… talk to you I guess? Help you plot Rick's murder?”

Eddie laughed again, a little brighter this time. "Yeah, that could be good. But if I'm plotting murder I want to be a little more comfortable." He unlocked his phone and hit the follow button on Steve’s account. “This conversation requires lounging, not standing by the landline.”

“Oh-”

“How do you feel about a video call?”

A notification popped up on his phone, letting him know Steve had followed him back.

“A video call is fine.”

“Great.” Eddie paused. He wasn’t even sure how to end this call with the guy his boyfriend of two years had been cheating on him with and who he’d just asked if he wanted to video call so Eddie could smoke his feelings away. 

He just didn’t want to feel alone right now. 

He could have called Chrissy or one of the boys to come hang out with him but that would require explaining everything over again and he really didn’t want to do that right now. 

Before he could think much more on it Eddie said a quick “Okay bye,” and hung up.

Steve knew the story and Steve had been wronged too and maybe they could just be mad and sad together. 

He unlocked his phone again as he walked back into his bedroom and hit the video call button, not even bothering to turn his light on, leaving himself and his room shrouded in darkness. He propped his phone up on his desk, angled towards the window where he sat on the sil and started to roll, using the streetlights streaming in the window to see.

Steve picked up only a moment later and Eddie got his first good look at the guy live in action and not through a photo online.

He was sitting at what looked like a kitchen table fully lit by the overhead lights, a pair of wire framed glasses perched on his nose and his hair messy and dishevelled, like he’d been stressfully running his hands through it, which he probably had been. 

Eddie didn’t know how stressed he would be if he had to make a call to someone to tell them their long term partner had been cheating.

He was leaning forward, elbows on the table in a cosy yellow sweater with a slight worry between his eyebrows. 

He looked so soft. 

Nothing at all like the nautical sea queen look he’d been giving in those photos. He looked comfortable and gentle and a little worried.

“Eddie?”

“Mm-hm?” He hummed, bringing the joint to his mouth and lighting it up before pushing open the window a little more and exhaling out into the dark rainfall outside.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “I will be.”

“I’m not asking about whether you will be, I‘m asking about now.”

Eddie looked over and watched Steve as Steve watched him through the screen.

“Alright, then no. I’m not okay.” He took another drag. “I’m fucking pissed. I’m sad, I’m upset, I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m disappointed and I don’t know if all of that is directed more at him for doing this to me or me for not expecting it.”

“How were you supposed to expect it?” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “No one should have to expect to be cheated on.”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged, looking back out the window. “Relationship was dying anyway.”

“Okay, and? That doesn’t make cheating okay.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. For my part in it.”

Eddie glanced back over, taking in the downward tilt of Steve’s mouth and his big sad eyes.

“S’not your fault. You were wronged too.”

“I guess, but…” Steve bit his lip and looked up from the screen, casting his eyes around his kitchen like something was going to pop out and answer whatever question was running through his head. 

Eddie waited. The guy had been very gracious so far and he seemed to genuinely feel bad for all the mess he’d been wrapped up in. 

“I…” Steve continued. “I know how this thing usually goes. You find out you’ve been cheated on and you still love your partner so you tend to focus all your anger towards the person they cheated with rather than the person who actually wronged you.” He looked down, fiddling with some kind of flash card on the table in front of him.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Eddie stubbed his joint out, happy enough with his current buzz. He was sufficiently mellowed, he hadn’t cried yet though that would probably come once he was in bed, but his anger had simmered down to a level where he didn’t feel like putting his fist through a wall but still angry enough to plot.

“I am, I guess.”

Eddie nodded. “This happened to you before?” 

That was probably rude. His filter malfunctioned at the best of times but when he smoked it was all but gone.

“Yeah.” Steve stared down at the cards in his hands. “My mom had to put up with my dad’s infidelity a lot. And my ex-girlfriend cheated on me a while back.” Steve paused before taking a deep breath. “Rick was actually my first attempt to get back into the dating world so…”

“So we can both be sad and angry together.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled and Eddie stood up, plucking his phone from his desk and settling it on his bedside table, switching his lamp on and throwing himself face down on his bed, probably barely visible to Steve.

“We can be sad and angry together.”

Eddie glanced up. Now that he was closer to his phone, he could better see exactly what Steve was fiddling with, he could read some of the text on the card.

“Stevie.” Eddie sat up, moving closer to the phone and unable to stop the smirk running over his face. Steve’s eyes snapped up towards him. “Did you write out flash cards for when you called me?”

Steve’s eyes widened before he unceremoniously swept all the cards off the table in front of him, his cheeks turning a terrific shade of red and he leaned his face on his hand, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“No.”

It was adorable. Incredibly dorky and adorable.

Eddie laughed, full on braying belly laughs, collapsing backwards onto his bed. When he peeked back up to look at his phone through his giggles, Steve’s face was somehow even redder. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie breathed. “That’s darling.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s really very sweet.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes but was still smiling, still had a blush lighting up his cheeks.

Eddie settled himself back against his headboard. “Actually, listen, let me ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“Does Rick know? Does he know that you know? Or that you told me?”

“No.” Steve answered, finally relaxing his fake nonchalance into real relaxation, folding his hands on the table and propping his chin up on them. “I figured if anyone had the right to rip his balls off it would be you.”

Eddie nodded. 

That he could understand. 

“I get that, but there’ll be no ball ripping from where I stand. No, I want to hit him where it hurts.”

“Woulda hurt me plenty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But the only thing Rick loves more than his own balls is his car.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he’s like, obsessed with that thing. It’s weird. It’s not even that nice of a car.”

“I’d love to say he has bad taste but considering he picked the both of us, I’m pretty sure his tastes are actually immaculate.”

“Just his decisions are bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Well.” Steve sighed. “I’d love to help any way I can. I hate that I was involved in this, in what he did to you.”

“To us, Stevie. To us.”

“Right, so what’s the plan then?”

“When are you due to see him next?”

Eddie pulled his van into the parking lot of the bar. It was halfway across town and a place that he never frequented if he could help it. Rick liked it though, always had. Eddie just liked other places around town more.

But it could be cute, he supposed. A small little country and sports type place that had a rainbow flag behind the bar and a small number of regulars who, according to Steve, wouldn’t do anything unless you got between them and their drink. 

He knew that Steve was inside with Rick, playing up the flirty angle and acting tipsier than he actually was to put him at ease.

Steve had mentioned one of his signature moves involved pool, bending over the table and wiggling a little bit to keep the attention on him. Pulling out a little pout whenever he missed a shot or asking for help to line up his cue.

Eddie would be more upset by the fact that he was missing the sight of it if he didn't know he'd have the opportunity to see it himself at some point in the future.

They had talked for so long that first night, long enough that the sun was starting to come up by the time they'd both dragged themselves away from their phones to sleep.

They’d talked about their families, their friends, what they were doing in life right now as opposed to what they had hoped they would be doing when they were teenagers. They talked about their school selves and their dating lives and as the conversation wore on Eddie found himself thinking again and again about how long it had been since it had felt so easy to talk to someone like that.

It had been a very long time since Rick had put any effort into getting to know him as he grew through their two years together, like he expected Eddie to stay the same person as he was at the start of the relationship.

After that first night where they’d figured out their master plan, he and Steve had just… kept talking. Throughout the rest of the week up until tonight, they were in almost constant contact, only really taking a break to sleep and work.

Eddie felt connected to Steve and in some roundabout way he was thankful to Rick for bringing him into his life.

He’d even met Robin in passing one day, living two floors below him, holding the door open for him as he tried to wrestle with grocery bags. 

She was so weird. He kind of loved her the second she opened her mouth. Honest, but with the sharpest tongue he’d ever met on a person. 

She had knocked on his apartment door later that evening to tell him Steve was calling over to visit and asking if he wanted to come around to meet him. 

Steve had apparently delegated the asking to her because he was too nervous to do it himself.

Again, adorable.

Steve was somehow even sweeter and even saltier in person than he was over the phone and Eddie tried hard, he tried really hard not to look too much or let his fucking horomones run away with him but Jesus. H. Christ it was difficult. 

The sweetness of his soft sweaters and polos, his gentle smiles and understanding words matched with his salty mean girl attitude that would slip out every so often and the bitchiest of eye rolls that made Eddie’s heart jump.

Eddie was also trying to feel bad about what was happening but honestly, he was losing reasons to care that much.

He hadn’t texted or called Rick once in the last week and Rick himself had never reached out which all at once made Eddie realise he was the primary communicator in the relationship and it hadn’t been reciprocated in a long, long time. 

Adding onto that was the knowledge that Rick was still fucking cheating on him and was in regular contact with Steve left Eddie only half heartedly feeling bad.

He and Steve would go over the screenshots of the conversation together every night and every night Eddie found it harder and harder to hang up the phone.

He was pretty sure Steve was feeling the same way. 

They kept just catching each other staring. Or smiling or, pulling back from touching too much and he was almost sure that as soon as Rick was out of the picture for the both of them, something was going to blossom.

Even now, with Steve inside, flirting up a storm with Eddie’s ex-boyfriend who didn’t know he was an ex yet, they would be ending the night together. 

Robin was waiting back at her apartment with an alibi ready if Eddie needed it though he suspected he wouldn’t.

Neither he nor Rick had a great track record with the police and it would be more trouble than it was worth to get them involved.

Speaking of, Eddie spotted Rick’s car, some souped up four wheel drive monstrosity of small dick syndrome sitting in the shadows and away from the cameras of the bar where Steve had convinced him to park with a suggestion of something happening in those shadows later on. 

He hopped out of his van and threw open the back doors, grabbing his bag of goodies before sidling around Rick’s car to wait.

When the chords of some Shania Twain number started to leak through the walls, the signal he’d been waiting for, the sound loud enough to drown out what Eddie would be doing, he dropped his bag to the floor.

Curling his keys into his fingers and with almost a skip in his step Eddie began to carve a stripe through the immaculate and expensive paint work. Working his way around to the drivers side, he lifted the key up before bringing it back down.

With a little bit of sickening glee, he hacked the word CHEATER into the side of the car, the side that would be immediately visible from the bar door and the side Rick would have to see every time he wanted to get in and get out of the driver's seat.

At least until he paid a bomb to get it fixed.

Eddie had connections in this town. Working as a mechanic here for years would do wonderful things to extend this pain. 

Rick knew fuck all about cars. 

Tucking his keys back into his pocket, he sidled back around to his duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling out his Stanley blade.

Unsheathing it, he gripped it tight in his hand and punched it down into the nearest tyre, listening with satisfaction as the thing slowly deflated before moving onto the other three.

A second Shania song had started up. 

He could hear Steve crooning out from inside, getting louder and Eddie knew he was running out of time. 

He pulled Steve’s baseball bat from the duffle and gave it a little twirl, the same one he’d seen Steve do when he’d first handed it off and he had tried so hard not to be attracted to it. 

He’d failed miserably. 

Maybe Eddie could deal with a gym bunny if that gym bunny was Steve.

With an almighty swing, he brought the bat down, shattering one of the headlights with an almighty crash that wasn’t quite drowned out by the karaoke inside.

Rearing back Eddie swung again, smashing the other headlight and while the music didn’t cut off, he could clearly hear Steve inside calling out for Rick to “Wait!”

Okay, only a few seconds left.

Pulling the bat back and letting the anger and betrayal and indignation flow through him, he brought the bat down hard into the windshield where it embedded itself, the spider cracks of the tempered glass making the thing practically opaque.

The bat was fucking stuck.

Eddie knew that if he was able to pull hard enough he would be able to release the whole windshield from the car but he didn’t even have the strength in him to budge the bat.

“What the fuck?!”

Eddie slowly released his hands from the bat and turned, looking at Rick standing in the doorway of the bar, his mouth hanging wide open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Steve was standing just behind him, with one hand over Rick’s chest.

To anyone else it would look like a comforting gesture, maybe. A show of support. 

But Eddie could tell the hand was there to hold Rick back if he decided to lunge. 

Both Steve and Rick dragged their gaze over the flat tyres, the word carved into the side, the bat stuck in the windshield.

“Hey sweetheart.” Eddie called across the distance, feeling comfortable enough to turn his back to pick up his bag, trusting Steve to at least shout if Rick was about to tackle him.

“Eddie,” Rick breathed, still open-mouthed somehow. “What in the god damned hell has gotten into you?!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and held his hand out.

Steve patted Rick twice on the chest and stepped out from behind him. 

Rick watched him walk away looking even more bewildered than before.

With one hand Steve took Eddie’s and with the other he grabbed the bat, wiggling it a few times before pulling it free. 

They broke apart as they reached Eddie’s van, Steve climbing into the passenger seat and Eddie throwing his bag in the back before starting up the van from his position in the driver's seat.

He leaned over Steve to shout out of the window, “Have a nice life, asshole!”

As the van tore out of the lot, Steve stretched both hands out of the window, two middle fingers extended until Rick, still frozen on the spot, was out of sight.

When he pulled himself back inside, Eddie saw him glance his way, a huge grin on his face.

Eddie had a smile to match, whooping into the night as they sped down the road.

AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - REVELATION

A/N: Here comes chapter FIVE! Wow, I can't believe I am still writing this. But I am here for it. I do this for fun and share my fun with you. So, enjoy. Thoughts are appreciated.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst

Summary: Scott decided to be a dick and share something he shouldn't.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 4300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Four

LOGAN HOWLETT - REVELATION

Y/N’s body twitched in her sleep. Her mind was filled with the scenes of the moment she used her forcefield in Salem. In the dream, she felt her power radiating through her body. And then, the power engulfed her. She felt powerful like never before. As if she could defeat the whole world that was against her. Her body glowed like a star in the midnight sky. 

She gasped and opened her eyes, panting. “Y/N?” she heard her name. Her eyes found Logan staring at her. His hand was on her shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

She blinked a few times. “Where are we?” 

“Back at school,” he said. 

Logan leaned a bit closer to her. He noticed something strange. It appeared her irises changed colour for a second. It was faint, but it was there. “Are you okay, kid?” 

Her breathing calmed, and she nodded. “Yeah. It was just a dream.” She turned behind her.

JJ was asleep in the back. After such a long time, he was able to sleep peacefully. His legs were resting on the seats, and he was hugging himself. He had the whole back seat for himself. It brought a smile to Y/N’s face. 

She reached for him and gently tapped his leg. “We’re here,” she whispered to Jerome. The boy yawned, and his eyes met her. She helped him out of the car.

“This is the school?” he asked. What he saw was a garage full of cars and two motorbikes. 

Logan walked to Y/N. He lifted her head up to have a better look at her eyes. They were back to their regular colour. She wanted to say something. However, Logan was faster. “You look like shit,” he whispered. 

Y/N got annoyed by that. “Have you seen you?” she raised a brow and pointed at his bloodied clothes. 

Jerome grabbed Y/N’s hand when they moved from the garage. All three walked to the main hall. It was still early. The hallways were empty, and the school was dead silent. The day would slowly start in about an hour. “Where is everyone?” Jerome asked. 

“Asleep.”

They heard someone run down the stairs. First, it was Jean who appeared. She wore a red robe wrapped around her body, and her hair was tousled. Her mouth almost fell on the floor when she saw Logan and Y/N with the boy they planned to save. “Oh my god,” she gasped. As a telepath, she knew when they arrived. This, she couldn’t see. “How?”

Scott was right behind her. He wore his long pyjama pants and a white tank top. Anger was evident on his face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said crossly. 

More footsteps followed. Of course, Jean called them through telepathy. Kitty and Bobby arrived together. Bobby had workout clothes on, and Kitty was in a long t-shirt that ended under her ass. Finally, Storm ran to them, already dressed for the day. 

It wasn’t a pleasant view seeing them covered in blood. They knew Logan was fine. Y/N, on the other hand, bled like everyone else. “Are you alright?” Storm approached Y/N, grabbed her chin between her fingers, scanning her face. 

“We are fine,” Logan answered for them. 

“You don’t look like it,” Storm scowled. “What the hell happened?” 

“Take the boy and check him up. We need to figure out how to take off that damn thing around his neck,”  he pointed at the collar Jerome had.

Jean walked to the boy with a smile. She reached her hand to his. “Come with me,” she said gently. He didn’t want to let go of Y/N’s hand. She was his secure place. 

“JJ,” Y/N looked down at him. “This is my friend Jean. She’ll have a look at you and see the bruises, okay? These people will only help, I swear. I will come to you once we finish some business here.” Her other hand gently stroked the boy’s cheek. 

“Promise?” And she nodded. 

JJ let go of Y/N and took Jean’s hand instead. She walked him through the hallway into a hidden elevator. She kept talking to him, explaining everything on the go. Jean was lovely to him and patient.

Y/N closed her eyes. She felt a pulsing sensation happening inside her body. She grunted and stretched her neck. Huh, that’s new. 

Logan stepped closer to her, noticing the change. Something was off. He could feel it. That’s why he decided to stay close, in case she needed help. His eyes moved to Scott. His anger filled the room. He knew a big fight was about to start. As pissed as Logan was for recklessly getting the boy out, he understood it all. It was a ‘now or never’ situation. 

“How did you get the boy out?” Kitty was the first to talk. She appeared to be genuinely curious. “Wasn’t that supposed to be a team effort?” 

“Clearly, Y/N doesn’t know that word,” Scott scoffed. “If she did, she’d known to wait for orders and let us handle the situation. You know, we are more experienced than you. We’ve been doing this for years.” 

“And while you did absolutely nothing, Logan and I got him out,” she talked back and took a step closer to him. Y/N wanted to show Scott she wasn’t afraid of him. “It wasn’t the plan, but it had to be done.” 

“Can’t believe you talked Logan into this,” said Scott. “I thought at least someone would have more intellect. I guess I was wrong.” 

Logan pushed through Y/N, stepping right in front of Cyclops. He grabbed him by the tank top. “Watch your mouth, Scotty. You have no idea what happened and how it happened. Before you point fingers and accuse anyone of anything, try to find out information about things.” 

“Look at you,” Scott laughed. “She’s got inside your head, hasn’t she? She whistles, and like a good dog, you come to her leg and sit.” 

Y/N frowned. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Logan’s claws were out, his fists clenched tightly. Y/N decided to intervene before there would be spilt blood. She ran to Scott and shoved him. “What is your problem, dude?” 

“You are my problem,” he snarled. “Ever since you came here, everyone has been running around you. As if you were some kind of miracle among mutants. Well, guess what? You are not special.” 

“Scott, what is the matter with you?” asked Storm. It was weird acting like this. “No one has given her any special attention like you think. We treat everyone equally.”

“Ah, Scott, you are jealous, eh?” Logan smirked. “Look at ya, bub. It’s kinda sad.”

“What the fuck?” Y/N raised her voice. “I don’t get this, Scott. Why are you acting like this? What have I ever done to you? You don’t even know me.” 

He took a deep breath, grinning. “I know what you did,” he said darkly. “I can’t believe the Professor let you stay here among all these kids. You are a danger to them.” 

“What?” they all asked in chorus.

“Hold on, what are you talking about?” Bobby asked Scott.

Y/N’s heart dropped. Her eyes widened in fear, and she took a step back. How did he know about it? Did the Professor tell him about her past? Her fists clenched. “It was an accident.” 

“Was it?” 

All eyes moved to Y/N. They waited for an explanation. She didn’t want to talk about it, not like this anyway. Her hands were cold, and her body shivered. Why did it have to be like this? She would tell them once she was ready. She shook her head and pursed her lips. Y/N’s heart beat fast. She could hear it in her ears and feel it in her throat. 

“How do you know about it?” she muttered. “Who told you?”

“I did some research. Do you know there is an article about what you did?” Scott grinned. He felt like a winner. Everyone would know who she really was - a murderer. “At first, it was presented as a gas explosion. Later, your own father revealed the truth.” 

The world was falling down on her. She forgot it was out there, on the internet, for the whole world to see. Her lower lip quivered, and Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to scream, cry, even throw a tantrum. Some wicked part of her wanted to snap his neck for opening his damn mouth.

“You killed your own little sister,” Scott revealed her past, the darkest secret she owned. 

When he said the words out loud, Y/N felt like drowning. She couldn’t breathe. The pulsing sensation got stronger. Her head hurt, and her insides twisted and turned. Scott’s words echoed inside her mind. “Stop!” She screamed from the top of her lungs. 

With that scream, she unleashed the emotions in the form of a forcefield that burst out of her body. It hit everything around her, everyone standing in the hallway with her. The people who took her in were thrown against the nearest walls and stairs. Storm hit her body against a door. Kitty and Bobby were thrown into the stairs. Logan’s body flew into an ancient statue that broke under his weight. Scott got thrown out the nearest window and farther away into the gardens. 

That forcefield drained Y/N out of all the energy she had stored. It caused her to collapse on the hardwood floors, unconscious. More blood came running out of her nose.

The first person who got up was Logan. Thanks to his fast healing, he was able to shake it off. “Shit,” he cursed when he saw what happened. Everyone was down. Kitty and Bobby were moaning from the stairs. Storm was still out. His eyes found the damaged window. And in the middle of it was Y/N. 

Beast ran to them, already in his fancy suit. He must have been in the labs. “What the hell happened here?” He fell on his knees next to Storm, gently tapping her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, he was relieved. 

Logan peeked out of the broken window and saw Scott lying on the ground, groaning in pain. “Scott decided to be a dick,” he said. 

“What was that?” Storm’s voice caught Logan’s attention. Her eyes lowered. “Oh, god, Y/N.” 

That set of information made everyone question who Y/N was. Storm’s head was filled with doubts. If Y/N killed her little sister, was it safe for her to be here? On the other hand, it could have been an accident.

Logan tried to be neutral in this matter. There had to be an explanation for everything. Y/N said to him she had blood on her hands. He knew he shouldn’t judge her. He also made mistakes and killed people. But he never killed a kid. 

. . .

Murderer..! Psychopath..! You killed her..! Freak..!

“Y/N?” 

A ringing sound echoed in Y/N’s ears. There was even something that reminded her of a whistling train. And then someone said her name. Who’s voice was that? She wasn’t able to open her eyes and have a look. Her body wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe she didn’t want to face the reality. 

You killed your little sister, Scott’s voice rang in her head. Y/N huffed loudly. The person who was present in the room with her heard it. 

“Y/N?” The voice belonged to the Professor. “Can you hear me?” 

She rolled her head to the side, following his voice. When her eyes opened, Charles had a concerned expression on his face. Y/N didn’t express any feelings. She had her eyes locked with his. Maybe she tried to find something in them, anything. No one was present except for them. 

There was a prodding sensation in her head. It didn’t hurt. It felt as if someone was gently tapping on the door. “Are you trying to get inside my head?” Y/N asked him after a minute of silence. “I won’t let you in.” 

The man sighed. “I want you to remain calm while we talk.” 

Y/N sat up and stretched her neck. “How long was I out?” 

“A few days,” Charles replied. “Your power shut down your body. It needed time to recharge.”

“Don’t like you care,” she scoffed.

“I do. We all do.”

“Bullshit.” Y/N turned her body to him, feet dangling in the air. “Cut to the chase, Professor. Say what you want to say before I leave.” 

“Leave?” Charles was confused.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m a danger to the kids, aren’t I? I should not be here, in a school, where I can hurt more people, young people. Scott said it clearly.” 

You killed her..! You are a monster..! Murderer..!

“Scott doesn’t know the whole story,” Charles said calmly. “He should’ve never talked to you like that - accuse you of something he knows nothing about.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said strictly. “People know, and opinions were made. I am not welcome here anymore.” 

He sighed. “Why don’t you tell them how it actually happened? It’s your story to tell.”

“They won’t listen,” she clenched her fists and pursed her lips. “Not now. Besides, I don’t want to persuade them about anything. Telling my story was taken away from me. Scott wanted to give everyone a reason not to trust me.” 

Y/N took off the cables stuck to her body and then stood up on her feet. She noticed her clothes were changed into a different one. Someone must have done it while she was unconscious. “Promise me you’ll take care of JJ. That’s the only thing I want.” 

“I won’t let you leave, Y/N,” Charles wheeled before her, grabbing her by the wrist. “I’ve seen the good inside of you. Everything that happened with your sister was an accident. You didn’t know what you were doing. You were fifteen.” It was rare to hear Charles with a stern voice. 

“Don’t…”

“I have talked to Scott once he could leave the bed. Nothing can excuse his behaviour towards you. But I know Scott. I know he’s a good guy,” Charles continued. 

“The fuck he is,” she growled. “If he was, he’d act like a good guy and not a dick. He would wait or ask or say it between four eyes. This was pure spiteful. As if I was the one who hurt him in the past. As if I killed his sister or a child. That’s how it feels to me. He wanted to show everyone that I was a harmful person.”

“Y/N,” Charles said her name gently. “Scott doesn’t trust easily. After everything he went through, he’s careful and observant.” 

“That doesn’t excuse his behaviour,” she said through teeth. “He did this. He made me hurt everyone around me.” 

“And that is another thing we need to discuss,” said the Professor. “Your mutation is evolving fast. Logan told me you created another forcefield around the boy while you had one around yourself. That is impressive.” 

Y/N yanked her wrist out of his hold. “Are you trying to say my mutation has made me unpredictable and dangerous?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “All I’m saying is, I want to help you to reach your full potential and learn how to control it.” 

“How can I trust you?” she glared at him. “After everything that went down, how can I know you are not lying? What if it was you who told Scott everything?” 

The Professor shook his head. “I told you it is your story to tell. I’d never do anything to break your trust. What I told you when you arrived still stands. This is a safe place for mutants. No one will harm you here-”

“And yet someone did,” she said. “It started a chained reaction. Scott hurt me emotionally, and I hurt everyone physically.” Those were her last words. She left the professor in the infirmary and walked back to her room. 

She tried to find a way to not be seen. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone. Y/N wanted to hide in her bedroom and think about what to do next. Leaving would be the best option for everyone. Why stay in a place where people hate you or fear you? Yes, they gave her a home and provided her with food. She should be thankful. She was thankful. In the end, Scott took a piece of her. Now, she wasn’t able to trust them. 

“Hello, sleeping beauty.” 

Y/N stopped walking. She wasn’t surprised to hear Logan’s voice. Of all people, he would be the first to find her walking around the school. She turned her head to the side, signing she acknowledged his presence. No words left her mouth. 

He walked closer to her. “How you doin’, kid?” 

“Fine,” she uttered and continued walking to the upper level. 

Logan didn’t like that as an answer. He quickly followed her, trying to reach her before she got to her room. “Come on, Y/N, talk to me.” 

“There is nothing to talk about,” she sighed. 

“You kiddin’ me, right?” he reached for her shoulder and made her turn around. “There’s a lot to talk about, Y/N.” 

“No, Logan, there isn’t,” she shook off his hand and stepped back. “Enough has been said. You’ve all heard what I’ve done, and I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t give a shit what you all think of me. So, leave me alone.” 

“You are goin’ to leave, aren’t ya?” Logan stated, eyes never leaving her. 

“Don’t act like you care,” she turned on her heel and continued walking. 

Logan breathed heavily but decided not to follow. His eyes watched her until she was out of his sight. That woman was something else - strong, stubborn and a survivor. He wouldn’t let her go that easily. 

. . .

Y/N remained in her room until late evening. She had a backpack where she packed only necessary clothing. Her whole body screamed to run, leave and never look back. 

Murderer..! Killed her little sister..! Freak..!

It pained her to leave JJ in this place alone. He was a child, and he needed stability and education. That’s something she couldn’t provide for him. Y/N knew he would be safe in here. She was dangerous. What if she also killed him? 

Y/N opened the door and peeked outside. The hallway was empty. At this time, the students were asleep. She left her room and silently ran down the stairs to the main entrance.

The plan was simple -  leave the school and walk as far as her legs would take her. What if this was supposed to be an interchange? All she could do now was speculate. 

Once she closed the entrance door, she took a deep breath of the cold air. The sky was dark, and this part of the world rested again. She walked from the school and headed to the main gate. 

Y/N thought about leaving for New York. It was a gigantic city with maximum opportunities. She could find a job, start a new life and forget about everything that happened in the past. There was a slight chance she could find love, be happy and build a family. It was not something she dreamt of, but now, it was something she could focus on. One step at a time. 

She was almost at the gate. Her new life was only seconds away. However, she found Logan leaning against the metal gate. She sighed, annoyed. 

“Took you long enough,” Logan commented. He had a cigar in his hand, smoking it. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You think I’d let you leave?” he raised a brow and took a drag. “Ain’t happening, kid.” 

“You do realise I’m not a kid,” she frowned at him. 

“You are acting like one,” he said back. “Instead of talking, you are running away. Have you ever tried facing the problems?” When she didn’t give him any snarky comeback, he chuckled. Logan opened the gate. “Come on, let’s have a walk.”

Y/N tilted her head, confused. “Why are you still talking to me, Logan? After everything that I’ve done and you’ve learnt. You should be glad I’m running away.” 

“You are a stubborn woman, you know that?” he laughed. 

“I’ve been told before,” she winked at him and walked through the gate with him close behind. 

They walked through the driveway in the middle of the night. They couldn’t see much. The moon was in its Third Quarter and hidden behind the trees. The surroundings were peaceful. Some would say it was weirdly romantic. 

“Scott is an ass,” Logan said after a while. “Can’t believe he’d do that. I thought many things about him, but this is just another level of being insecure and jealous.” 

She laughed. “I hate Scott,” she stated. “Sorry, but what he did is inexcusable. He told you all something he knows nothing about.” 

“Listen,” Logan stopped and patted her shoulder. “Would you tell us in the future?” 

Her hand found his hand on her shoulder. “In time, I would. I’d need to be sure I can trust you. I’d want you to know who I was and what I did.”

Without thinking, Logan pushed her closer to his body and gave her a side hug. “You can trust us. Or at least trust me. I’ve been through shit. I’ll understand ya.” 

When Logan pulled away, Y/N was glad he couldn’t see her flaming hot face. They continued walking down the road. 

“Have you killed a child?” she asked boldly.

“No. That I didn’t.” 

She clapped her hand once. “There you go. Don’t get me wrong, I would never hurt a child. I would never hurt my own sister. Until I did.”

“I know.” And then came the dreaded sentence. “Tell me what happened, Y/N.” 

She took a deep breath. As much as she hated digging into her past, she wanted to tell at least someone what happened that day. It appeared before her eyes like a movie. This time, she didn’t run from it. She faced it like her greatest fear. 

“It was the day my ability appeared,” she started slowly. “It was Saturday afternoon when it happened. I remember I was on edge since morning. I couldn’t explain it then. I was moody and irritated by everything. I got grounded for my behaviour and had to watch my sister in the afternoon.

“Jill wasn’t even six. She was a spoiled child. Jill wanted all the dolls. She wanted my CD player and music. That day, she was extremely annoying. I remember her jumping on my bed, screaming something. I wanted to finish an essay for school. Jill wanted to be a brat and get on my nerves. 

“I started to scream at her. Words flowing out of my mouth. She fought back, and then it happened. The forcefield flew out of my body. It damaged my whole room, ruined a wall, and my sister was nowhere to be found.” 

Y/N was there again. When she opened her eyes, she found the room in ruins. A wall was missing, dust flew in the air, and everything was a mess. Her body was shaking. She was in shock. What the hell happened? She took a few steps forward. She went closer to a wall that was now missing. People from her neighbourhood were staring at the scene, gasping and pointing fingers. Her eyes fell down on the front yard, where she found her sister lying without any trace of life. 

“All rescue teams came to our house. News stations filled our street. Everyone wanted to see what happened,” she recalled. “Because my bedroom was above the kitchen, people believed it was a gas explosion. However, my parents immediately knew who was at fault.” 

They walked to the crossing. No cars were passing by. 

“My parents threw me into an asylum where I stayed for a few years until I escaped that place,” she added. “I can still hear my parents screaming at me. Their voices are a reminder of what I did.” 

Logan grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. Our mutations awaken when we are kids or teens, and we are in emotional distress,” he explained to her. 

“Back then, I didn’t know it,” she said. “One remains the same: I killed my sister. It was unintentional. I would never hurt a five-year-old. I would never hurt a child,” her voice shook. 

“I know. I believe you,” Logan affirmed her. His hand never left hers. “That’s why you needed to save JJ, right?” 

She quickly nodded. “Yeah. To even convince myself that I don’t kill kids for fun.”

They looked at the main road. This was a crucial moment for Y/N. It was up to her to decide whether she wanted to stay or leave forever. 

“I want you to know that you have a friend in me, Y/N,” he said after a while. “And there are more of us who did some bad shit.” 

“I know,” she whispered. Y/N was conflicted. She couldn’t decide what to do. Now she wished to see Logan’s face, to know how he was looking at her. 

His presence was magnetic and radiant. Y/N had noticed it while they were driving to Salem. He made her feel something new, unknown. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

“Is this a goodbye?” Logan asked. “Or can I drag your ass back into the mansion?”

She laughed. Yes, at least she had a friend in him. That’s when she realised Logan was still holding her hand. “Will you continue to train me?” 

“Imma kick your ass tomorrow,” he pulled her hand, and she collided with his hard body. He patted her head as if she was a dog. Together, they started to walk back to school. 

[the--blackdahlia]

Wild Horses (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Wild Horses

Summary: Lydia keeps summoning Beetlejuice away from (Y/n) right when they get to the good part. He wants to know why.

Warning: Hinted sexual content, body image issues

“Mmm babes, you smell delicious,” Beetlejuice started kissing behind (y/n)’s ear, smirking at the reaction he was getting from her. They were both on her bed, where they had been listening to music and talking, but now, Beetlejuice had other things in mind.

“Beej, the door’s open,” (Y/n) was trying to find an excuse to get him to stop. She wanted to go on, she really liked him, but insecurities had a tendency to get the best of her. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and the door shut, the loud creaking of the hinges echoing down the hall.

“There, that’s taken care of,” He went back to kissing (Y/n)’s neck.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” He heard Lydia summon him. With a loud groan, he left (Y/n)’s side and appeared in the dining room, where Lydia, Barbara, and Adam were set around the table.

“What is so fucking important?!” He snapped.

“We need a fourth for cards. Matilda’s at work.” Beetlejuice stood there for a second, just staring at her. She swore she could see the red spreading across his ashy skin.

“YOU FUCKING SUMMONED ME TO PLAY CARDS?!” He exploded, and the Maitlands could practically see smoke coming out of his ears.

“Yes I did. Now come sit,” Lydia was calm, used to Beetlejuice’s tantrums. She had even set up a little corner in a couple of the rooms for him to throw tantrums in. Matilda had even made signs for them during craft night at the library. Beetlejuice grumbled but took a seat across from Lydia.

“Five card stud? Texas Hold ‘Em? Stripping?” Beetlejuice wiggled his eyebrows.

“We’re playing Spades,” Barbara smiled at him, and Beetlejuice groaned.

“You pulled me away from a fucking sexy woman…to play Spades?”

“Yep. Adam’s dealer first,” Lydia gave Beetlejuice a shit-eating grin. Beetlejuice let out the most annoyed groan before picking up his cards to play the game.

****

That’s how things went over the next few weeks. Every time Beetlejuice started to get intimate, Matilda or Lydia would summon him away from (Y/n). It was really starting to annoy him, especially when he would go back to pick up where he left off and (Y/n) would be asleep or otherwise preoccupied.

Finally, after Lydia pulled him away to go have lunch with Matilda, he just about had enough.

“Why do you keep doing this shit to me Lyds?” He grumbled as the three sat in the parking lot of the Subway close to their house.

“Can’t I just spend time with my friend?” She sounded so innocent, but he knew there was something deeper behind her words.

“You never wanted to do that all the time until I got with (Y/n). So what’s up?” Matilda and Lydia looked at each other.

“Maybe we should tell him,” Matilda took a bite of her Miss Vickie’s.

“Okay, okay,” Lydia took a drink before turning to look at Beetlejuice. “(Y/n) hates the way her body looks. And she’s worried that you’ll find her repulsive.”

“...She does realize I’m a dead guy, right?” Beetlejuice looked at Lydia and Matilda like they had two heads. “I mean, she would legit be fucking a zombie pretty much.”

“Gross,” Matilda commented, making Beetlejuice roll his eyes.

“That’s it. I’ve got to fix this,” Beetlejuice had a look in his eye as ideas came pouring in. He knew what he needed to do.

****

“I’m home!” (Y/n) called out, carrying groceries in. “Hello?” The house was eerily silent. (Y/n) looked at the fridge and saw a note from Lydia.

‘Date night with Matilda. Be back late. -Lydia’

“Hmmm, okay,” She worked on putting groceries away. “Beej, you home?” She called out but didn’t hear him. She sighed and grabbed the drink she had bought herself and headed up the stairs to her room to read and relax.

Upon approaching her door, she could hear what sounded to be the Rolling Stones playing. Pushing open the door, she saw Beetlejuice sitting on her bed, guitar in hand, with dead flowers surrounding him. He was singing, but it sounded more like Mick Jagger than him.

“Wild horses. Couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild horses. Couldn't drag me away,” Beetlejuice sang to (Y/n). She sat her drink on her desk and walked towards him. He stopped playing when she saw by him.

“What’s all this about?” She picked up one of the dying daises and slipped it on top of her ear.

“I thought it’d be…romantic?” He couldn’t stop staring at her. “You’re beautiful.”

“Beej…”

“Nope. No arguing with me. I mean,” The guitar disappeared as he stood up. “I’m literally a dead guy. And you are the most beautiful breather I’ve ever seen.”

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one,” (Y/n) was suddenly taken aback when Beetlejuice took her face in his hands.

“We’re not leaving this room until I prove to you that you are beautiful,” He got a wicked smile on his face. “And babe, I can go all night.”

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg fucking stupid thing I thought of but like Sevika with a reader who is literally her number one apologist

Oh she got into deep shit? “I saw nothing actually” <— (quite literally was there)

Oh she murdered a man? “I mean.. did we ever take time to consider why she killed them? I mean, they could have looked at her wrong! I mean, I would if I were her too—“

Oh Sevika was being an asshole? “So? And I was backing her up 😇🫶🏼”

this is so me, she'd chop finn's head clean off in front of me and i'd be like 'babe ur so silly! omg u have blood on ur arm!! lemme clean it for u...'

men and minors dni

sevika knows you're loyal to her.

in the five years you've been together, sevika's never once worried about your eyes wandering or you sneaking around on her.

but it's more than that.

you ride or die for sevika.

she realizes this the first time she's home to watch you talk to an enforcer.

sevika and silco's deal with marcus means they get away with most their dealings in the undercity-- but from time to time, to avoid questions, marcus will have to send a rookie down to the undercity to 'investigate.'

usually, the kid will snoop around for half a day, before high-tailing it right back up to piltover.

sometimes-- they actually try to investigate some of the evidence.

and, once or twice a year, one of the rookies will even have big enough balls to try to question sevika herself.

she's on the couch reading when someone knocks on your door. she's on high alert as she watches you open the door, her hackles rising when she sees the uniform standing on your front stoop.

"sorry to bother you so late at night, miss, is this the residence of a 'sevika'?" the enforcer asks.

sevika huffs, rolling her eyes and biting back her annoyed groan. she's in no fucking mood to deal with this. she's about to haul herself off the couch and take over for you, when you speak again.

"who?" you ask.

sevika blinks-- unsure if she heard you correctly.

"s-sevika?" the man tries again.

"sevika? i've never heard of a 'sevika' living in this neighborhood..." you say. sevika realizes what you're up to, and a smile breaks across her face. "do you mean savannah? there's a savannah a few blocks south, she owns a barbershop off third..." you suggest.

the rookie studies you for a second, and you just blink up at him innocently.

sevika has to smack a hand over her mouth when the idiot buys your act, sighing and slumping before turning around to leave your front stoop. "thank you for your time ma'am. sorry again for bothering you so late."

"put your gas mask on, young man, you'll hurt your lungs down here!" you call after him, waving sweetly as you watch him wander down the street.

you grunt and roll your eyes, your sweet smile dropping the moment he turns the corner, before you turn around and walk back inside your home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

sevika tackles you to the ground, kissing you fiercely. you burst into giggles. "what's this for?" you ask.

sevika can't stop laughing against your lips. "you're so amazing." she giggles. you just huff and roll your eyes.

"thought i'd turn you in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head.

"no-- didn't think you'd lie to a cop for me though."

you blink up at her, suddenly serious, and sevika's heart swells. "sevika. i'd do anything for you."

sevika has to hide her flustered face against your shoulder at this.

over the years, she realizes how much you meant the words.

you come home one night and find her panicking, a dead body in your living room blood soaked into her skin and clothes. you just blink, take a deep breath, and snap into action.

sevika watches in a daze as you gently guide her to sit on the couch, kissing her and calming her down as you strip her of her bloody clothes and toss them ontop of the dead man in the middle of your home.

you don't even ask her questions. you just gently guide her to the bathroom, and treat her like she's just got a cold, or something.

"you're so pretty." you whisper as you wash her clean.

you dress her in her jammies and put her to bed.

sevika stays awake, listening to you call ran and silco over, and then listening to the three of you clean up the mess for the rest of the night.

when you crawl into bed beside her at the end of the night, smelling vaguely of fire and gasoline and bleach-- sevika turns onto her side and grabs your hand.

"you okay, my love?" you whisper.

"will you marry me?" sevika asks.

you burst into giggles and agree, kissing sevika sweetly before dragging her onto your chest and scratching her scalp as she falls asleep.

it's not even the serious shit that you back her up on either. it's the dumb, petty shit too.

you can be sitting on her lap during a game of cards; muffling your giggles against her shoulder when sevika cheats by hiding a few of her cards one second, and the next you're swearing on your grandmother's life that sevika's never cheated during a game when one of her opponent's accuses her of hiding cards.

you hear her voice rise a bit when she gets in an argument with a goon, and you're by her side at lightspeed, glaring at whoever dared to question her authority, cracking your knuckles to back up her threats. when the goon stumbles away, nearly crying in fear, sevika turns to you with a guilty look.

"what?" you ask.

"i realized halfway through that i was yelling at the wrong kid... they all wear the same grungy eyeliner-- i can't tell these fuckers apart." she admits.

you burst into giggles and pull her in for a hug, and sevika finds out years later that you ended up tracking down the kid you'd both threatened and buying him dinner to apologize.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Halloooo angel - For requests I was wondering if you could write crew!reader who has an anxiety attack in the green room where the band is. They’re at the venue, and she spots her ex in the crowd. All the boys happen to be there and doing whatever they can think of to try and help calm her down. You know, Jolly being a dad, both the Nicks being soft lil beans, Noah going from “should we kick him out” to “he’s a fan of the band? how mad would he be if he thought you were dating the lead singer?” and poking the bear

Hey! Thank You for the request! This was an interesting one to sit down and write! It took a little longer than I expected! I hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Check out my other writing here: MASTERLIST

Little White Lies

Y/N rushed down the hallway backstage frantically trying to follow the signs that Matt had hung that morning directing where the various rooms were located inside tonight's venue. She mentally begged her legs to move faster as she began to feel the familiar tightness in her chest take over.

She had been the bass tech for Bad Omens for a little over two years at this point. Meaning she was charged with making sure everything with Nicholas’ collection of instruments were cared for and ready to go the second he needed to walk on stage. She had just finished up her final pre-show check when she decided to take a quick peek at the house before the support band started their set. 

As she scanned the crowd she felt like the oxygen was sucked from her lungs when her eyes fell on a familiar face standing amongst the other guests in the VIP section. 

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. She mentally cursed. How is he here? Why is he here? 

Jared, her ex-boyfriend, was at a Bad Omens show and standing next to him was the same girl that Y/N found him in bed with on the day she came home from tour the year prior. Almost four years of her life had been wasted on this asshole that, come to find out, had been cheating on her for over a year and a half. 

He then had the audacity to try and gaslight and manipulate her into thinking that the cheating was somehow all her fault because she was gone on tour all the time. She wishes she could say it hadn’t worked, but it did and at her lowest point she had considered giving up on her dream job entirely. The mental and emotional manipulation affected her for a long time after the breakup. She had felt like her entire world was crumbling around her and thankfully her touring family stepped up to rally around her when she needed it most. 

Alana and the boys helped her move out of the house she and Jared had shared and Matt even flew in from Texas to help Noah, Jesse, and Jolly get her set up in a house that was for rent only a few doors down the street from their own. She cut off all contact with Jared and hadn’t seen him since the day he dared to show his face while they were packing the last of her things.

He promised to keep his distance while she moved out but then showed up anyway and stirred shit up with the boys. Which resulted in Alana and Noah having to physically hold Jolly back and keep him from trying to take a swing at Jared’s smug face before he finally walked out of the door and out of Y/N’s life for good. Or so she thought. 

When she found the door labeled “Bad Omens Dressing Room” she quickly slipped inside and nearly collapsed onto the couch. All commotion in the room ground to a halt as the boys looked at the panicked expression etched across their friend’s face as she struggled to control her breathing. Nicholas quickly recognized what was happening and crossed the room, kneeled on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands within his own. 

“Hey…Hey, Y/N…look at me.” He said with a soft yet firm voice and Y/N looked up, connecting Y/E/C eyes with the familiar bright hue of her friend’s.

“There we go. I need you to try and take a deep breath and tell me five things you can see,” he said, “can you do that for me?” 

She nodded, taking a shaky breath, before listing out things she saw scattered around the green room. 

Jolly’s guitar. A case of water. A ski mask. Folio’s drum pad. Noah’s laptop. 

“Good. Good,” Nicholas responded. “Now four things you can feel.”

She took another breath. Each one feeling slightly more steady than the last. 

Nicholas’ hands. Her AAA crew card on the lanyard around her neck. The cold water bottle Folio had pressed to the back of her neck. The radio attached to her hip that looped across the back of her shoulders. 

“Good,” he continued. “Three things you can hear.”

The music from the bluetooth speaker on the table. The support band playing their set. Matt’s voice on the crew radio. 

“Two things you can smell.”

Cigarettes and Cologne. 

“One thing you can taste” 

Spearmint toothpaste. 

“Better?” He asked. She replied with a nod.

“What happened?” he inquired. “You haven’t had a panic attack like that in a while.” 

She proceeded to tell them about her spotting Jared in the crowd, who he was with, and the section where he was standing. 

They were not only pissed off about him daring to show his face at one of their shows. They were trying to figure out why he was even here to begin with. He never showed any interest in the band or attending one of their shows while he and Y/N were together. So why now was he suddenly a Bad Omens fan?

Jolly being Jolly wanted to tell Ash to have security kick him out of the venue, VIP or no VIP, and Noah initially agreed with him until a new idea came to mind. 

“Wait, he’s VIP. Which means he’ll probably be at that weird meet and greet thing the venue wants us to do after the show…” He stated. “Why don’t we have some fun with this asshole?”

“I don’t know Noah, I don’t think he’s worth all this.” Y/N said. Not wanting the guys to waste their time or energy on Jared of all people. 

“Oh no no no, this piece of shit has the audacity to show up at one of our shows after what he did to you?” Noah replied. “We’re going to at least make him squirm in the process.” 

“Okay, so, what’s your plan then?” Y/n questioned with a defeated sigh.  

He paused. Pondering. 

“How pissed do you think he’d be if he thought you were dating one of us now?” Noah suggested. A humorous glint in his eye. 

“Oh, he’d probably be furious.” She replied nonchalantly, before also pausing, a grin started to form on her face. “Say more…”

Noah continued and explained the rest of his master plan and how to execute it. 

Y/N was intrigued and a little worried about whether she would be able to pull it off or not. Noah was one of her best friends and someone she definitely felt very comfortable around so he was the natural choice in being her fake boyfriend. 

After the show Y/N started her regular post show duties breaking down her work space and packing up the bases, guitars, pedals, along with all the miscellaneous pieces and parts into their respective road cases for the rest of the crew to load onto one of the massive trailers the band now used. She had just gotten that done and the cases rolled out to the loading dock, when she heard Noah call her name and motion for her to join him. 

As she made her way toward him, she acted oblivious to the fact that Jared and his friend were standing at the back of the small group of people waiting to talk to the band. But judging by the burning stare she felt hitting her back, he definitely noticed her. 

Noah held out his arm toward her after they bid the most recent person goodbye. While the guys chatted with the next person, he pulled her into his side and planted a tender kiss on her temple. 

He leaned his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “They looking at us?” 

“Yep” she said with a nod, faking a giggle at a non-existent joke, before looking up at him with a grin. 

His brown eyes glowed, even in his tired state, as he stared down at her. They stood there for a few beats, just staring at each other, smiling like idiots before Noah started tickling her side. She quickly tried to squirm away but he pulled her even closer.  

“I think that should do it.” He said, pulling her into a full hug before placing one final kiss on her forehead, “We can handle the rest, go do what you need to do for load out.” 

He gave her one more quick squeeze before she slipped out of his arms and walked back toward the stage to help the guys finish packing up. Smile still plastered on her face. 

Noah turned to the next group of people to meet the band, but not without catching a glimpse of Jared standing at the back. Anger building in his expression, his little friend standing there completely oblivious. 

When the fan they were chatting with turned their attention more toward one of the other band members. Noah took the opportunity to make eye contact with Jared who was fuming. The expression on Noah’s face grew more serious as he held their stare. It said, I remember you, I remember what you did, and you will never come near her again. Almost daring him to try something. His face sent a very clear message to the unwanted VIP. 

She’s mine, Bitch.

[konigsblog]

simon riley as a dad.

a/n; in this, simon is a single dad. please leave requests in my inbox, they're always open !! will make a part two if requested !!!

second photo isn't mine, message me the creators name and i'll update it ☀️

simon was definitely nervous to become a father. the thoughts of becoming like his own plagued his mind, stress forming as the due date came closer.

his beautiful baby girl was born. wipsy blonde hair, eyes lile her mothes, a birthmark on her chest, above her heart. he couldn't help himself, sobbing whilst he held his newborn, his little girl immediately calming down as soon as she was placed on his hands, eyes widening and staring at him with adoration and love, raising her small hand to his cheek.

the only person that new about simon's daughter was price, a man he could trust. it wasn't that he couldn't trust johnny or kyle, it would be easier to tell price as simon himself viewed price as a father. showing him the polaroid photos of his girl, smiling underneath the mask while talking about her.

it's her first day if school, and simon is unsure if he can let her go. he watches as the other adults send their kids off, hugging them goodbye whilst they skipped into school. his eyes glistening, becoming glossy as he held her tight, rocking her from side to side, forcing his tears back before kissing her forehead.

- “dad, i met a boy in my class!!” she yells out, excited to have made a new friend. the word ‘boy’ lingers in his mind. boy, oh god.

helping her with her homework after school seems boring and uninteresting, but to simon, everything about his daughter is exciting and interesting, it's his favourite part of the day; waking up and greeting her, watching as she scoffs down her breakfast, laughing and giggling with him.

i think by the times johnny and kyle figure out simon has a daughter, she's probably be around four. they literally yelled, unsurprisingly and exactly how he thought they'd react. rolling his eyes, yet a smirk hidden under his skull mask. - “the fuck do you mean you have a daughter??”

she definitely looks up to him. talks about him constantly with her guy friend. mentions that she wanted to do what he does for work, causing simon to spit his tea our and nearly have a panic attack at the thought. curling up to her, letting her rest her head on his chest as she took an afternoon nap after school, playing with her dirty blonde hair.

soap meeting her for the first time was definitely something.. he literally was jumping up and down the entire time, launching himself at the poor little girl infront of him, sobbing and whining because she didn't know who this freak was.

calmed down after simon explained that he was his colleague. price scolding him, simon glaring, kyle trying his absolute hardest not to start crying from laughter. - “oh my god, you're simons daughter!?!” johnny screams.

played games with kyle. beat him every single time - got accused of cheating.

price is calm, probably met her before the rest, letting her sit next to him while she talks about the her friend. raising his eyebrow to simon teasingly as she mentions the same boy, laughing at his expression, angered and terrified of a four year old - probably threatens to beat him up before reminded that was a kid.

as the future comes, she gets a boyfriend, and unexpectedly, and unsurprisingly, it's that same boy. literally is gritting his teeth and lecturing her. - “careful, kid. i know you think you love him, but he could be a shit person, 'alright? i'm not gonna let some boy hurt and ruin my daughter.” - “dad, im literally five.”

johnny becomes close with her (after attacking her) letting her out make-up on him. eyeshadow on his cheeks, lip stick on his eyes, false eyelashes on his lips. and kyle has a botched manicure, some nails placed on his palm.

- i can't be bothered adding anything more since it's nighttime, and i'm pretty tired 😵‍💫 tell me your thoughts and opinions ! :)

- will make a part two if wanted and requested.

[bookshelf-dust]

good night, bloodsucker

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2,114

warnings: swearing, a little anxiety, fluff (let me know if i forgot something)

a/n: hi! this is a little short and sweet fic for you. i hope maybe someone will be into it. i’m starting to feel a little better about writing, and this one made me happy, so that’s something. also, this is dedicated to the one and only @clovermunson (the crowd goes wild!!) for having such a lovely brain and trusting me to handle this. i love you all to the moon and back. keep kicking ass. <33

————

Wayne is unable to see the television screen but for a few seconds at a time. It’s making what was meant to be a relaxing night off…anything but relaxing. 

He huffs and sets his drink down. 

“Boy, would you quit your pacin’?” 

The boy in question scoffs, continuing to move back and forth across the room, occasionally pausing to peek out the window or fuss with something on the kitchen counter. It’s like somehow he thinks an idea will swoop in through the panes and seep into his brain. Like it will materialize before him and all will be resolved.

It’s been another five minutes of this when the elder Munson can’t take it anymore.

“Eddie!”

“WAYNE!”

He rubs his temple, chuckling at his nephew’s panic. He pauses the tv. 

“You gotta calm down, kid.”

Eddie slams his hands up against his face so hard that the slap resonates throughout the room. He peeks out from between his fingers.

“I know! I know. I just—this is our first date ever, and I have a tendency to be a royal fuck up, and I don’t want to ruin this.”

Wayne pats the cushion beside him, encouraging the boy to take a seat. 

“You won’t ruin it. She said yes to going on with you, didn’t she? Now all you gotta do is be yourself.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, preparing to argue, but Wayne holds up a hand. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ed. You’re already friends, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah—”

“And you want to go out with her?” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

They both stop speaking, and Eddie looks at Wayne, eyes wide with nerves. 

“I don’t know how first dates work, Wayne! Can’t you just tell me what to do?”

Eddie slides down off the couch until he’s flat on the floor. 

Wayne scoots forward, looking down at his nephew. He’s much too big to be moping on the carpet. His hair is splayed out around him, and Wayne can’t help but think about how this has been Eddie’s default reaction to anxiety since he got dropped off on his doorstep. Some things never change. 

Eddie thinks his uncle looks incredibly wise, looming over him like this. “What plans have you got for tonight?” Wayne asks.

Eddie puts his hands under his head, feigning collectedness. “We’re seeing a movie.”

“Okay. A movie. What else?”

The boy gulps. “I thought I’d take her for ice cream. And that way we could sit and talk or whatever. Shit, is that a bad idea?”

Wayne reaches down and smacks Eddie’s knee, though the gesture is free of malicious intent. 

“No. You have a lot of bad ideas, but that isn’t one of them. I’m sure it’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Eddie sits up, mumbling under his breath. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, yeah, yeah.” He almost smacks his head on the coffee table when he stands.

He’s determined not to pace again, so he calmly, unnecessarily slowly, sits back down on the couch. He laces and unlaces his fingers. 

“Should I get her flowers?”

“Eddie.” Wayne downs the last of the beer he’d been nursing in one go.

Eddie looks at his watch. He doesn’t even have time for flowers. He’s been panicking for so long that he actually needs to head out so that he can pick you up and you won’t think he forgot about you—

He stands just as quickly as he’d sat down. “I gotta go, Wayne.”

He follows Eddie to the door and meets his eyes. The very same doe eyes that have always gotten him what he wanted. Because Eddie is a suck-up, and Wayne always gives in. 

“Just be yourself, alright? You're gonna be fine. Treat her nice, watch out for her. Make sure she’s comfortable. And have a good time.” 

Wayne presses a rough kiss to Eddie’s forehead, though it’s over his messy bangs. Wayne Munson is a surprisingly affectionate person, especially towards people he loves, no matter how brooding his demeanor is. 

“Okay. Yeah, I got this. I’m a gentleman. It’s gonna be fine.” 

Eddie’s halfway to the van when he realizes he was lost in hyping himself up and forgot his keys. Wayne notices though, and tosses them to him from the front steps. It’s pure dumb luck that Eddie catches them. 

“Good luck, Ed.”

“You too!”

Wayne sees Eddie smack his head against the steering wheel in anguish. He laughs it off, stepping back inside the now quiet trailer.

“Get a grip, goddammit,” Eddie fusses to himself, pulling out of the park. “Get a damn grip.”

————

“You really have a type, don’t you?”

Eddie’s looking at you, eyes wide with glee, cheeks all rosy from laughing. 

“Maybe. But I guess it works in your favor, doesn’t it, Munson?”

He tosses your shared empty popcorn bucket in the trash. You’re still sipping on your Icee, the blue raspberry flavoring having turned your tongue blue. 

“That it does.”

Eddie realized after the movie had started that you seemed to have the hots for every damn vampire on the screen. And he couldn’t help but notice the subtle similarities between the looks and interests of those characters and himself. 

“It’s not my fault you’re all so pretty.”

He holds the door open for you. It’s one of the many sweet gestures he’s provided you with over the course of the night. He’s opened every door. He ordered your popcorn, helped you up the stairs in the theater, and now he’s waiting while you finish your drink—albeit a little obnoxiously just to tease him. 

“Is that a compliment?”

You pull on the chain attached to his belt loop. “Yep. You’re very pretty. And I’m glad I waited to see this with you.”

Eddie’s blushing. He’d try to hide it if he weren’t so intrigued by your words. 

“Waited?”

“Yeah, I had a friend ask me to see The Lost Boys with them on opening night, but I really wanted to see it with you. Figured you’d like it, too.” 

He leans in and sweetly presses his forehead against yours, just for a moment. 

“Well that’s cute. And I did like it. I’m honored you wanted to see it with little ‘ol me.”

“I think I’d like to see all the movies with you.” The words are leaving your mouth before you can second guess yourself, and the look on his face is completely worth it. 

“Shit, you really are just making me feel special tonight, huh?” 

You’re still messing with the chain on his jeans, but your fingers move upward, finding purchase on a patch sewn onto his vest. The messy stitching feels comforting against the pad of your finger. 

“You are very special, Eddie.”

He won’t argue with you. Not when he can tell that you’re being earnest. When it’s practically emanating from you. You think you could dedicate your heart and soul to him, worship him like he’s some ancient deity, and you’d never grow tired of him. 

“Right back at you, sweetheart.” You grin at his words, and suddenly he’s feeling loads more confident knowing he can make you so giddy. He can’t believe he landed a date with such a fucking gem. 

“You want a milkshake?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“‘Course I do. I’m not a psycho.”

Eddie snorts. It’s a cute sound. One you’re very pleased that you got him to make. 

“There’s a place up here, on the corner. We can walk, but we have to cross the street a couple times, so I think you’re gonna have to hold my hand.”

You’re sure you’ve never smiled so brightly. So stupidly, head over heels for the boy in front of you. He bends at the waist and extends his hand. 

“I think you’re right. That seems like the very best option.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You slide your palm against his, and you’d be embarrassed at the sheer amount of butterflies in your tummy if you weren’t so happy to be holding Eddie’s hand. 

His rings collide with your own, and his thumb starts rubbing over yours almost automatically, as if this is something he’s been doing with you forever.

He swings your entwined hands during the short walk, and you don’t know it, but secretly he’s trying to memorize each line, each dry patch or scratch that covers your skin. He could hold your hand forever. 

When you’re in line, waiting on the milkshakes he ordered for you, again, you slide your other hand up his arm until it rests on his bicep, and Eddie thinks he might melt right there on the shop floor.

You resting your head on his shoulder just about ruins his life. He catches you looking at his hand, and before he knows it you’re bringing it upward, pressing your lips to the back of it and adjusting the bracelet on his wrist.

“You should let me paint your nails.” 

Eddie meets your eyes. He doesn’t look freaked by the idea, rather like he’s contemplating letting you do so. 

“Okay. You wanna go next door and find some polish after this?”

You lift your head, and there’s a little mark on your cheek from a crease in his jacket. Eddie presses his thumb against the mark and smiles. 

“Really?” you ask. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you grin. You squeeze his arm a little tighter, and the look on your face makes Eddie realize Wayne was right. There was nothing to worry about. 

————

Eddie’s hand rests on the center console in his van. It’s still parked outside the theater. 

You had your cup resting there too, but with each sip you took, chin against the lid, Eddie was still worried you’d spill it. Not because of the mess it’d make, no—he’s made tons of messes in his car. But because he couldn’t bear to see you cry over spilled milkshake. You let him taste it, and it is pretty damn good. 

So now, Eddie holds it in the hand that’s supposed to be drying. You lift your head up, and he tilts the straw towards you, allowing you to take a sip. The excitement on your face every time he does it makes him feel like he could sit here and feed you for the rest of his life. 

He thinks he may be in deeper than he realized. Hell, he’s allowing you to paint his nails in the van, the window cracked and music turned down lower than it has ever been. 

Every once in a while you catch glimpses of conversations coming from the passing moviegoers, and you’ll both giggle simultaneously. This evening has felt like some fever dream, something Eddie never would’ve imagined he’d experience, let alone deserve. 

You stick your tongue out and pull up Eddie’s hand, appraising your work. Once satisfied, you start putting on a layer of clear polish. Eddie tries to read the teeny words on the bottle over the lid of his own cup. 

“What’s that for?”

“Seals it all in and keeps it on longer. Figured this might give it a chance at outlasting your daily escapades.”

He laughs. It’s a slow, sweet sound, and you wish you could bottle it up and take it home with you. 

Eddie holds his nails up to the air vents. You grin at him, tucking the bottles of nail polish into his jacket pocket so he can keep them. 

He leans his head towards yours, but he can’t quite reach. “C’mere, pretty please.”

You incline your own, and he presses his lips to your forehead. You feel yourself flush. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I really like them. Very metal.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I’m glad you like them, Eddie. I had a really good time tonight.”

“I did too. Maybe next time you’ll let me paint your nails?”

You swipe your thumb over the very prominent dimple that’s appeared on his cheek with the way he’s smiling at you. 

“Of course I will. Next time you can pick the movie.”

“Deal.”

When Eddie drives you home shortly after, you get another kiss on the forehead. He can’t help but think, watching you go up your front steps, that you really do deserve some nice flowers. What he doesn’t know is that you think the same thing about him.

You unlock the door and turn to face him one last time for the evening. 

“Good night, bloodsucker!” you shout, grinning and hoping he’ll laugh.

He does. Success. 

He really is gonna have to stay away from Chinese for awhile. But it was worth it. Just like he thought, he’s head over heels. Maybe you’re the vampire. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[moni-logues]

The First Cut

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (she/her)

Genre: strangers to not quite lovers lol, single parent! reader, hairdresser!Chan

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Your son needs a haircut and has hated every hairdresser he's ever met. Until he meets Chris. You grow a soft spot for him, too.

Content: literally none to warn for. this shit is as SFW as it gets lmao I use 'Chris' for Chan throughout.

* * *

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You had to remind yourself, again and again, to relax your grip on your tiny boy’s shoulders; you didn’t want him to feel your stress. You knew he was stressed enough already. You both were. 

The last time you had attempted this left you both in tears, but your friend had sworn up and down that Chris would be different. That he would work some kind of magic on your son so that, not only would his hair be cut, but he would not be traumatised by the experience.  

Or re-traumatised. 

And you wouldn’t be either. 

“Hi, Lucas? My name is Chris!” 

For some reason, you had expected him to be the older guy you had seen walking in and out from the back room—something about years of experience and wisdom that made you assume it would be age that gave him his skills—but this Chris was young, with a bright smile and dimpled cheeks. He sank to a squat in front of your son and held out his hand.  

Lucas clung tighter to his Transformers toy. Chris didn’t seem to mind. He simply nodded, still smiling, and then directed his eyes at you.  

Something unlocked. Loosened. It was certainly a friendly face. A trustworthy face. You took a deep breath and decided to believe that this could work. You realised that he had spoken to your son first, not to you. That he hadn’t, in fact, spoken to you at all. The other hairdressers and barbers you’d been to had barely acknowledged Lucas at all.  

Maybe this would be different. 

“Alright, Lucas, I’m going to cut your hair today, mate! Does that sound good?” 

Lucas looked back at you with eyes, saucer-wide. You gave him an encouraging nod and he turned back, but didn’t answer. 

“If you can follow me to this chair here,” Chris continued, unperturbed, spinning a chair around from a mirror for Lucas to sit in, “then we can talk about what we want to do.” 

Lucas climbed carefully into the seat. So far, so good. But they’d got this far last time. 

“Ok, first thing, buddy: do you want a drink?” 

Lucas shook his head. 

“What about your mum? Does she want a drink?” 

It took you a second to realise he was asking you and you similarly declined. You hovered, anxiously, near Lucas’s elbow, trying to keep your stress from radiating outwards. Trying and failing.  

“Wow, your mum looks pretty nervous, huh?” Chris asked Lucas, as he had directed all his speech so far. “What do you say Mum sits down in this chair?”  

Without breaking eye contact in the mirror, Chris reached out and pulled the chair at the station next to him closer.  

“There, now your mum can sit and relax, just like you—right, buddy?” 

Chris’s chatter was charming; there was something hypnotic in the way he rabbitted on, always smiling, not minding that Lucas stayed mute, that he clung to his hard, plastic toy like a life raft.  

You had told him on the phone that Lucas had never had a haircut before. Not because you hadn’t tried, but because he had a meltdown every time. Because he didn’t want anything near his head, because people kept trying to use clippers on him and he hated the noise, the feel of the vibrations against his skull. It was a problem anyway but it had become an even bigger one, as each failed attempt made Lucas worse; you hadn’t been able to brush his hair for over a week. He wouldn’t let you.  

It had been over five minutes but Chris still hadn’t touched Lucas’s hair. He had taken a seat on his other side and was flicking through magazines, showing hair models to Lucas, talking about their styles, the cuts, the products. You could see that Lucas felt it, too: Chris’s calming influence; the sense he gave that you were the most important people in the room; his patience, which it didn’t seem like you were trying. You let yourself unclench a little. 

Eventually, Lucas picked a hairstyle. You cringed when you realised just how much hair was going to have to come off to achieve it. Your heart thumped in your chest when Chris shook out a gown and Lucas would have to let go of Optimus Prime to slip his arms through the sleeves. 

“Don’t worry!” Chris chirped. “These arm holes are so big, I bet you can fit ’im right through!” 

He could. Lucas barely had to let one hand leave plastic in order to get the gown on. You braced yourself, tensing again: Chris was reaching for a comb and scissors. You saw Lucas tense, too: saw his watchful eyes follow the instruments in Chris’s hands carefully.  

“Ok, Lucas, like we talked about, this hairstyle is much shorter than your hair, right? So I’m going to have to cut a lot of it off. Is that ok?” 

You started. No one had asked that before. No one had even asked Lucas what he wanted. They’d asked you. How short do you want it? What are you going for? All questions for you, not for him.  

Until now.  

You met Lucas’s gaze in the mirror and gave him a smile—a genuine one, not a forced grimace of faked encouragement. His eyes flicked to Chris’s and he nodded.  

“Perfect.” 

Chris didn’t start by combing Lucas’s hair. You were grateful for that, knowing that it was tangled and knotted and any attempt at smoothing it would’ve hurt, would’ve made Lucas run for the hills (or at least out the door). He picked up a section, held it between his fingers, and chopped.  

“There you go, mate!” he said, dropping the chestnut brown locks onto the surface in front of Lucas. “That’s your first cut! How was that? Was that ok?” 

“Yes,” Lucas replied, keeping his head studiously still, and his voice almost inaudibly quiet.  

“Great! Can I cut some more?” 

“Yes.” 

And so it continued. Chris was careful and considerate and his hands worked softly over Lucas’s bird’s nest of hair. He checked in before he did something new: touched Lucas’s ears to cut behind them, brought out a comb to rake through his newly shortened tresses, brushed over the back of Lucas’s neck to remove the cut hairs.  

You wondered how long it was taking, refusing to look anywhere but at your son’s miraculous face—he was smiling now, too, looking at himself in the mirror with a cheeky, toothy grin. 

“Mama!” he cried, when Chris had finished. “I did it!” 

You choked on a sob and held back your tears as you celebrated with him. He was such a perfect little boy and now he looked like it, too. Smart, clean, soft.  

Chris had him jump up and remove his gown; he brushed more hair from his neck and face, which you were amazed he tolerated. He held his hand up for a fist bump and your mouth gaped when Lucas actually returned it. Then he direct Lucas back to the waiting area with Optimus Prime and a hair magazine and turned to you. 

“Oh my god, thank you,” you said, your words coming out in a rush, catching at the end on tears. “I... I had no idea it could be that easy.” 

You imagined Chris’s cheeks must hurt, the way his smile never left his face.  

“People forget that kids are people too, y’know?” he said with a shrug. “Talk to them like real people and they’ll respond, right? I’m not about forcing anyone to do what they don’t want to, whether you’re 3, 30, or 300.” 

“Get a lot of 300-year-olds in, do you?” 

“Oh yeah, all the time!” 

You laughed, giddy with relief, and looked past him to see Lucas, not playing with Optimus Prime, but looking at himself in the mirror, brushing his hand over his hair.  

“Seriously,” you began, turning back to Chris, “I can’t thank you enough. I thought I’d never find anyone who could do it and I knew I couldn’t do it myself.” 

“Yeah, no problem! Any time!” 

You tried to tip him 100% and he refused. You tried to tip 75% and he refused. He somehow negotiated you down to almost nothing but the promise that you would return.  

* 

And return you did. More frequently, to start with, to get Lucas over the fear of it, to get him used to the hairdryer and having his hair washed at the sink. Then, less often, but probably more often than strictly necessary, because you couldn’t stay away.  

It wasn’t just that he looked like that (though he absolutely did), it was everything else about him, too. Silly jokes, crinkly smile, the way you felt as though you’d trust him completely, with anything—with the most important person in your life, your son. He started talking to you more, too much, if you asked Lucas, who frequently grew bored waiting for your conversations to finish after his haircut.  

You hadn’t been doing the dating thing since your split with Lucas’s dad. Told yourself you didn’t have the time, which wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.  

You hadn’t wanted to attempt it. You were a parent; you had baggage, that most dread of all things. Lucas wasn’t baggage to you, but you knew men would see him that way and you weren’t prepared to face that.  

Sometimes you felt like Chris was happier to see Lucas than to see you. Then he would turn around and blast you with his blazing grin and you’d think, maybe not, but he certainly didn’t see him as a burden, as an obstacle. As anything less than the little guy that he was.  

You wanted him to ask. You didn’t want to risk it, not only the rejection but the loss of Lucas’s hairdresser, the loss of one of his favourite humans, which Chris had become. So he had to ask you. You wondered if he ever would, if he even wanted to.  

 

“Y’know, I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for a long time,” Chris said, fingers deep in your hair. 

“Oh?” you asked with a nervous laugh, eyes flying open to see only the salon’s ceiling while Chris grabbed the showerhead to rinse shampoo from your hair. 

“Yeah, you’ve got beautiful hair!” 

“Beautiful hair...” you replied, musing. “So beautiful that you desperately wanted to change it?” 

Chris chuckled. 

“Who said anything about desperate?” 

You imagined that he winked. You couldn’t see him so would never know for sure, but you could see it in your mind’s eye. Then could hear the little shy chuckle that always accompanied any line that even bordered on flirtatious.  

“I did,” you replied, all the bolder for not being able to see him.  

He answered with a little hum as he wrung out the ends of your hair with a towel.  

* 

“You do have beautiful hair, y’know,” Chris repeated, sitting behind you on a stool, cutting off all your dead, split ends. “Just needed a bit of TLC.” 

You scoffed before you could stop yourself. 

“Yeah, the rest of me could do with a bit of that, too.” 

Couldn’t stop yourself saying that, either. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

“Yeah, I’m looking pretty haggard these days, but I was cute once, I think.” 

Chris sat up straight, scissors poised in his fingers but no longer cutting. 

“That’s not what I meant at all.” 

His eyes met yours and, of course, you were the first to look away, couldn’t face seeing yourself as he might see you—as you wanted him to, as you didn’t want him to, as you ‘really’ were (whatever that was)? No one had looked at you like that, not for a long time. 

The moment passed and Chris carried on with your cut. By the time he had finished, you felt like a new woman. Looked a bit like one, too.  

“Wow,” you breathed, running your fingers through hair—able to run your fingers through it for the first time in months—feeling how soft and silky it was, seeing it shine under the horrid, fluorescent lights of the salon.  

“See? Beautiful.” 

You felt sure he felt it. He had to, didn’t he? It wasn’t just you?  

Your butterflies swarmed as you stood and walked with Chris to the reception desk.  

“You’re coming in with Lucas next week, right?” he asked, flicking through the diary. 

“Yep. How much do I owe you for this one?” 

Chris lifted his head and grinned, something glinting in his eye. 

“One dinner.”  

[icallhimjoey]

idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!” you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Hazbin Hotel driving head canons

Sir Pentious: Can't actually press the pedals because he doesn't have feet but he can modify it the thing is that if he modified it he'll add lasers and flames and that wouldn't end well for anyone

Charlie: Literally the most anxious driver you will ever meet. She tried driving one time and she hit someone so she literally never tried again. If she gets behind the wheel of a car she'll have a breakdown. Also the person she hit was completely fine because she was pretty much just inching forward and it was also their fault because they ran into the road she just blames herself for it.

Vaggie: Has never once even thought about driving. She was in heaven and had wings then she was with the princess of Hell which means free limo rides so it's never crossed her mind.

Angel: An absolute menace in the road. He's always driving like he's running from the cops. All the windows rolled down, music blasting, pedal to the metal. He also loves driving because it just feels freeing. He doesn't get the chance often though because he doesn't have a car and Valentino often makes him ride with him in his limo.

Husk: THE ONLY ONE IN THE HOTEL WITH A VALID LICENSE! He's a car guy. He's always liked cars and when he was an overlord he collected them. Pretty much a normal driver other than the drinking and driving thing. His car is always super clean and he will keep it that way. He also would never let anyone drive his car (he let Angel once and immediately regretted it).

Nifty: She can't reach the pedals which is probably for the best but when she's a passenger she'll stick her head out the window like a dog

Alastor: Doesn't like cars. Prefers to travel through shadows or just walk. Honestly though he'd be a passenger princess. He would also be in charge of the music if you even try to take over he'll crash the car. Actually he might just do that for fun.

Cherri: Drives a lot like Angel. Y'know windows down, music blasting, pedal to the metal. She also does street races. She's living it up fast and furious style. Her car is customized, probably has flames painted on the side but other stuff too. She refuses to let anyone else drive her car though because she says she got it "just right". She'll probably blow it up within the week.

Lucifer: Doesn't need a car and I wouldn't trust him within five feet of one. Has probably been in a car like twice in his life because wings and also teleportation. If put behind the wheel he'd accidentally drive off a cliff or something. He has a "duckmobile" that has never and hopefully will never see the light of day. I do think he would be able to drive if he practiced enough though and I hope one day he gets the soccer mom van he deserves.

Vox: Actually really likes driving. It calms him down. He also has the most expensive sports car money could buy (holy shit Vox would buy a cyber truck wouldn't he). He almost never drives places himself though just because he thinks a person of his status shouldn't have to. Bro is such a loser honestly just drive your damn car no one cares.

Valentino: Only rides in his limo because he can't see five fucking feet in front of him and would probably get himself and others killed while causing tons of property damage.

Velvette: She would be a good driver if she would stop texting for five seconds. She prefers the limo though so she can be on her phone and touch up her makeup/hair if needed.

[artiststarme]

Bye Bi Steve

Thank you @nburkhardt and @doubleb11 for the ideas on this fic! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Now with a Part 2!

~*~*~*~

All throughout his life, Steve has denied his interest in guys. He discredited his feelings for Tommy H. as friendship and placed his attraction to Billy as jealousy. He liked girls, had loved Nancy, so he couldn’t be interested in guys. Steve kept telling himself that all throughout high school, all throughout 1985, up until a random day in the summer of 1986. 

It had been a shift just like any other, covering for Robin while she mooned over Vickie at the community pool. Steve was organizing tapes in the romance section in a way he knew would infuriate her when she came back when he heard the bell chime. “Welcome to Family Video, how can I-”

He stopped mid sentence when he saw it was Eddie. His hair was pulled back in a bun showing off the contours in his neck as well as a couple of piercings in his ears. His skimpy black T-shirt that showed off his scars and tattoos in equal measure did nothing to mute Steve’s attraction. 

“Hey Big Boy, when do you get off? It’s hot as shit out today and I refuse to go to the community pool with all of the religious zealots and their mothers. Fancy sharing your pool with the rest of us peasants, my liege?” Eddie blinked up at him through his eyelashes. 

Fuck, shit, fuck! This was not what Steve needed today! 

Fortunately, his outward composure remained calm despite his internal crisis. “I work until 10 tonight,” Eddie groaned but Steve plowed through the interruption. “BUT, I can give you my house key so you can swim. You can bring the kids over and use the pool as long as you watch them, alright?”

Eddie nearly hopped up and down in excitement, “thanks Stevie! I knew I could count on you! I love you!”

He went to run out of the store but Steve called him back, “Eddie! I didn’t give you the key. Here, try not to make a mess please?”

“No promises, Stevie. Thank you!” Then, he pranced through the door and was gone with a squeal of the van’s brakes. 

Very calmly, Steve walked to the door and flipped the open sign to closed. Then he turned the lights off and made his way to the dingy floor of the bathroom. It was there that he spent the next thirty minutes on the verge of consciousness, having a panic attack so brutal that he thought it might kill him. His entire life, he thought he only liked girls but just a moment of seeing Eddie looking so hot so effortlessly was enough to unravel everything he thought he knew about himself. 

Once he wrapped his head around being attracted to Eddie (he’d seen monsters with faces that opened up like a flower filled with teeth, there were stranger things than finding a hot guy hot), he realized that he needed help. He couldn’t go to Eddie for obvious reasons and Robin was too busy to help him with his crisis. So he did the only thing he could think of… he called Nancy Wheeler. 

Using the store phone at Family Video while hiding behind the counter was a low point for him but so was calling his ex-girlfriend to tell her that he might like guys. He waited for her to pick up the phone for what seemed like forever but was only a few seconds. 

“Hello, Wheeler residence. This is Nancy.”

“Nance, it’s Steve. Can you come to the video store to talk? I’m kind of having a crisis and I need to talk to someone. Robin and Eddie are busy and I really need to talk to you because I think I might actually be going insane,” he rambled. 

“Steve? Calm down, what’s going on? Aren’t you working right now?” Her voice filled with concern as she questioned him. 

“Obviously not well! I had a crisis so I shut the door, it’s fine. Can you please come? Please, Nancy?” Steve was begging her but he hoped she wouldn’t hold it against him. 

He heard her sigh and then, “fine, I’ll be there in five minutes. Just- hold on, okay? I’m sure everything will be fine.”

And so, he waited for five minutes in a sense of fake calmness. His hands were still shaking with leftover anxiety and sweat was dripping down his forehead from the stress but he was fine. He certainly didn’t jump a foot into the air when he heard a gentle knock on the door. When he peeked over the counter to see a confused and worried Nancy though, he calmed a little bit. 

He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to pull her inside before slamming it closed and locking it again. “Steve, are you okay? You don’t look very good.”

He started pacing back and forth in front of her. “Okay so, I have something really important to tell you and it’s kind of a secret? Like if you tell the wrong person, it could get me killed. But I have to tell someone because I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind.”

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Steve, just tell me.”

“I think I like guys. Eddie specifically, I think I like Eddie.” They both stared at each other in silence. Nancy’s face was blank as she thought over his words and Steve’s heart only seemed to race faster at her nonchalance. 

“Okay, is that it?” She asked him. 

“What do you mean, ‘is that it’? I’ve been freaking out all day!”

“Steve, it’s okay that you like Eddie. Thank you for telling me and I’m glad you felt that you could trust me with this information. Why are you freaking out about that?” She reassured him. 

“I like girls, Nancy! I can’t like Eddie!”

“Why not?” She asked with her eyebrow raised. “No one can tell you how you feel besides you, Steve. If you like Eddie, then you like Eddie. There’s nothing stopping you from liking girls and boys.” 

“Nance, you have to be either gay or straight. There’s no in-between.” He said in frustration. 

“Yes there is. I read an article about bisexuality, it’s when you’re sexually attracted to both girls AND guys. So if you like Eddie and still like girls, it sounds like you’re bisexual,” she explained to him. 

Steve’s eyes widened but his voice was small when he whispered, “and that’s okay? It’s okay that I’m bisexual?”

Nancy gave him a soft smile, “of course, Steve. It’s perfectly fine to be bisexual. And I’m pretty sure that Eddie has a thing for you too.”

Steve grinned at her words and pulled her into a hug that she returned gently. “Thanks Nance, I needed that.”

“Of course. Things may be awkward between us but we’re still friends, Steve. And I meant it, I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” 

They talked for a few more moments and by the time she left, he felt a lot lighter. He was bisexual and that was okay. 

~*~*~*~

It took a few more weeks of coming to terms with his sexuality before he could tell Robin and Eddie. Both of them had come out to him so he felt safe in the fact that they would support him whole-heartedly. Even then, it came out accidentally while watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show at their weekly movie night at the Harrington house. 

“He’s hot, I’m digging the fishnets,” Steve said while throwing some popcorn in his mouth.

Both Eddie and Robin snapped their necks to look at him. Eddie looked a little hopeful while Robin looked offended. “Steve, you can’t just say that. Are you seriously making fun of our favorite movie?”

Eddie’s hopeful expression turned mutinous at her words and he scowled. “That’s not cool, man. We’re trying to share one of the most important movies in queer culture and you’re mocking him because he’s wearing fishnets? What, does that infringe on your fragile masculinity so much?”

Steve hurried to backtrack and set the bowl of popcorn down on his coffee table away from his flailing arms. “What, no! I seriously just think that Tim Curry in fishnets looks hot, I’m not making fun of anything!”

“You’re not gay, Steve,” Robin told him confusedly. 

“I’m half gay! It’s called bisexual, it’s when you like guys and girls. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about it, I was still wrapping my head around it…”

“What, you’re serious? Steve, that’s not a thing. Bisexual is what people say they are when they’re so much of a slut they’ll go for anything.” Eddie said, shaking his head. 

Steve looked to Robin, hoping to get some reassurance but only received a scathing look in response. “Being bisexual isn’t a thing, Steve. It’s just what people call it when they pretend and try to hurt the people that are actually gay. I can’t believe you would do that.”

“I wouldn’t! I’m serious, I like both guys and girls. I’m not trying to hurt you guys or be a manwhore. I really am attracted to both. I thought you guys would be more understanding,” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end in hurt. He never even fathomed the idea that they wouldn’t accept him. Their support had been guaranteed in his mind so now that he didn’t have it, he didn’t know what to do. 

Eddie scoffed, “Steve, you’re just confused. You have to be either gay or straight, there’s no inbetween. And you’re the biggest ladies-man I know. You like girls.”

Steve sighed. He felt like his best friends were attacking him for no reason. He finally found his people, felt safe and loved by them, and then ruined everything by being honest. He couldn’t believe that the people he loved and trusted the most were rejecting him. 

“I just told you that I like both. Yeah, I do like girls. I love them, I think they’re great. But I also like guys. I don’t know why you guys aren’t accepting that, especially after I accepted both of you but I think you should leave.”

“Steve-” Robin tried to speak but he cut her off. 

“If you guys can’t accept me for being bi, I think you should leave,” he said sternly. To his complete and utter heartbreak, they each picked up their things and walked to the door without another word. 

Robin turned around just enough to tell him, “Steve, you’re just confused. You’ll get over it eventually and when you do, give me a call.”

And with that, she closed the door behind her. 

Steve didn’t even try to stifle the sobs as the ‘Sweet Transvestite’ song played in the background. He rewound the tape on autopilot, tears streaming down his cheeks all the while. He’d just lost two of his best friends, two people that he’d gone through everything with, just because he was a little too different. 

With tears still streaking down his face and sobs wracking his frame, he made his way to the phone perched on the wall. He dialed the Wheeler’s number in a haze and only came back to himself when he heard Nancy’s voice filter through.

“Hello, Wheeler residence. This is Nancy.”

“Nance,” he said, barely decipherable through his tears. “I told Eddie and Robin that I was bisexual and they told me that it wasn’t a thing! They left and I don’t think we’re friends anymore! After everything we went through, they left because I like guys and girls. What is wrong with me, Nancy?”

“Are you serious? They left just like that? Steve, listen to me. Nothing is wrong with you and you are valid in your feelings. Honestly, if they can’t accept you then they don’t deserve you,” She told him seriously. 

“Nance, I don’t care if they deserve me or not. They’re all I have. The kids come and go, my parents hate me, and Hopper checks in sometimes but I can tell he has better things to do. Robin and Eddie are the only friends that I have consistently. And you I guess. But if I lose them, I lose everything.” Another sob tore from his throat and even Nancy started to tear up on her end of the call. 

“Steve, no matter what, you have me. I know that’s not good enough but I’ll always be here for you. I’m going to go talk to them and fix this. Just relax and maybe call Hopper or one of the kids to come over to check on you, okay? I’ll handle this,” she reassured him. 

“Okay, thanks Nance.”

“Of course, what are friends for?” And then the line went dead. 

~*~*~*~

Nancy was livid. She couldn’t believe that two members of the Party, two of Steve’s best friends that had been through the same shit as the rest of them, would be so intolerant over who someone else was attracted to. Seeing a giant flesh monster made out of melted humans and a vindictive man that could kill teenagers in their own minds were fine but Steve liking guys and girls was too much? Ridiculous.

As soon as she hung up the phone with Steve, she grabbed her car keys, a cardigan, and her gun then made her way to the Buckley house. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked in front of it so she made her way to the Munson trailer next. Both Robin and Eddie were sitting on the stoop of the trailer and only barely glanced up when she pulled in front of them.

“Um, hey Nance. Can we help you?” Eddie asked her disinterestedly. Although, he became much more interested, and afraid, when she pulled her pistol from her car. 

“Get in the trailer.”

“Okay, we’re going. What’s with the gun?” He stammered. Both he and Robin bolted inside the trailer and Nancy quickly followed. 

“Nancy, please. We didn’t do anything! Are you being controlled by Vecna or something because you’re pointing a gun at us and we don’t know why. You’re our friend! You don’t want to kill us! Is your favorite song still Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper? I don’t know all the words but between Eddie and I, we can probably bring you out of it. Just don’t shoot us!”

“It’s not so nice to be betrayed by your friends, now is it?” She lowered the gun enough for them to relax before she continued her crusade. “Steve called me in tears today because his best friends, the people he trusted to accept him, rejected him and tried to call him confused when he said he was bisexual. Do you even know how much that hurt him? He called me three weeks ago having a crisis because he realized he liked a guy and didn’t know he could. After I explained it several times and assured him that it was okay, I told him that you guys would accept him. Not only did you guys trample all over his feelings, you’re also making me look like a liar. And I am not a liar.”

“Nancy-”

“No, Eddie! When you and Robin came out to the Party, we accepted you. You were nervous and scared to tell us but we all accepted you because someone’s sexuality doesn’t change who they are as a person. Steve was just as nervous to tell you that he was bisexual and you ridiculed him. What if we had done that to you when you told us? Eddie, what if Dustin had laughed in your face and told you that you had to be confused? Robin, what if Max had yelled at you and said that lesbians didn’t even exist? Whatever you imagine that would’ve felt like, Steve is feeling it right now.”

Tears were dripping down Robin’s face and Eddie had paled several shades. Both of them were at a loss of what to do and neither one could find any words to say. 

In turn, Nancy dealt the final blow. “The worst part is that the reason he figured out he was bi was Eddie. You were his bisexual awakening and then you ridiculed him for it. He feels awful now and I don’t know if he’ll forgive you guys for this.”

Eddie’s face paled even further and Robin brought a hand up to her lips in shock. Nancy just shook her head, tucked her gun into her waistband, and walked back to her car. She’d done what she came to do and now she had an ex-boyfriend to comfort.

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[starsfic]

Qi Xiaotian had never really thought about it, but he didn't know his grandparents.

Not on Pigsy's side, no. His grandmother had passed before he wandered into Pigsy's life, but his great-grandmother had taken up her role. His grandpa adored him, even if things got a little tense when he came out and shed his grandmother's name, and there were almost thousands of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

But he had never met Tang's side of the family. Most of the pictures in their home were of the Monkie Kids. The only hints that suggested a family existed were some letters that occasionally came by.

"Hey, Tang?"

"Hm?"

"Why haven't I met your parents?"

The cottage went quiet. Long Xiaojiao paused her and Sun Wukong's game, turning in her seat to stare. Maybe Xiaotian could've waited, but his curiosity had gotten too big. Tang glanced at Pigsy, the two sharing a quiet, communicative look. Finally, the scholar sighed.

"You haven't met them because we're no contact with them, Xiaotian," Tang said, closing his book. "They had some thoughts about my..." He made quotation marks. "Lifestyle and decided to take that out on me."

"Dealt with that for years," Pigsy snorted, stirring the pot. "Finally got the kick in the ass to deal with them when you came into the picture and there was the incident."

Incident? There was some kind of weight to the word. "What happened?"

Tang chuckled, the sound awkward and strained. "My sister happened. My family is made up of a large amount of people who have crazy entitlement issues but refuse to do anything about them. My sister has the worst of it." Xiaotian leaned closer, raising a brow. Okay, he had deal with entitled. "The day I brought Pigsy home, she got a huge crush on him."

"I do have a certain charm," Pigsy snorted, grinning proudly even as his husband rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. She wanted to steal him from me." Tang glanced away, snorting when he noticed Xiaojiao had pulled out her phone, the little recording light on. "Funny how my parents had a problem with me dating a pig demon, but the moment my sister said she wanted him, they were all gung-ho."

"And then she tried to kidnap Xiaotian."

"And then she tried to kidnap you."

The words didn't sink in for a second. When it did, Xiaotian jumped to his feet. He winced when his chair fell over, but he was more focused on the fact that he had nearly gotten kidnapped. "WHAT?!"

Pigsy snorted. "I know! Anyway, she lost her shit when Tang told his parents that we were adopting you."

"I thought they would shape up, knowing there was a grandkid that they could lose," Tang grumbled. He took a deep breath in and let out in an exhausted sigh. "But, yeah. My sister stalked us to the apartment and broke in through an open window. I guess you were taking a nap, because I didn't hear anything until-"

"I pooped on her."

Dead silence formed. All heads turned towards Wukong. He shrugged. "What? I said I was watching him."

Tang spoke first, his grin getting wide. "You were that bird pooping on her?!"

"Yeah! I panicked; it was the first thing that came to mind!"

Tang and Pigsy burst out laughing, followed quickly by Xiaojiao, who high-fived the smug-looking monkey. Xiaotian couldn't help but let snickers of his own out. He could imagine Wukong in bird mode, dive-bombing and pooping on this crazy lady.

Finally, Tang took another deep breath and let it out slowly, calming down. "I heard the screaming and found you still asleep on the fire escape. She was falling off the fire escape."

Wait... "She fell down the fire escape?!" The one and only time Xiaotian got the bright idea to jump off the fire escape, he ended up with a broken leg.

"And just got a few bruises, bumps, handcuffs, and a restraining order," Tang sighed. "My parents tried to call us to convince us to drop the charges. My mother even accused me of training a bird to attack her like that."

"Anyway," Wukong said, drawing his attention back. "I didn't want them to be bankrupted by the bills, so I got my lawyer to offer to cover them for free, with all bills paid by me."

Tang and Pigsy's eyes went wide, but they didn't say anything until Pigsy finished the story. "Anyway, it was Tang's kick in the rear to finally cut them off. He still gets cards and stuff from them sometimes, but it's all a bunch of guilt-tripping shit." He sighed, shaking his head. "I wish you could have a normal family."

Xiaotian opened his mouth, but it was Tang who spoke.

"I have you guys. What more could I want?"