#it's giving 21 jump street

[jonathanbyersphd]

Ok but imagine if the reason Argyle doesn't have a last name is because he's actually a government agent who's supposed to be keeping tabs on the Byers

[domesticangel]

these are soooo lilija. actually they’re really not she’d think they’re mad gaudy but she’s such a snob that she’d wear them anyway bc they’re expensive. Anyway I just wanted to draw her in them. smile

[soupy-sez]

It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, S11E4

[noveauskull]

Bounty Hunting The Wrong Guy [NSFW]

characters: sylus x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (reader is 21 here), bounty hunter mc, it takes a while to get to the smut part, nipple teasing, punishment, swearing, fingering, clit teasing, piv (penetration), wrists bound (by evol), no protection, bratty reader (sort of)

-----

You let out a satisfied sigh when you plopped your body onto the wooden chair placed conveniently next to a table full of different weapons and devices you probably will have no need on using at the moment, staring at the unconcious white haired man in front of you that was tied down onto the other wooden chair in the room.

Without wasting a second, you stretched your right leg out to get a better grip onto the phone that was in your pocket, giving it a few taps to call a certain someone about your lucky find.

A few rings passed by and the person on the other end finally answers, you didn't waste a second to let them know that your end of the job was done and that you were ready to receive your pay, and next order.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy!! If it isn't my favorite-"

"Cut to the chase. You got the man or not?"

You let out another sigh, this time annoyed. No matter how good your mood is it'll always get ruined by something, or in this case, someone.

"Yeah yeah, your man's right here with me" You rolled your eyes, checking your nails to see if you had made any damage on them while trying to capture your target from earlier.

"Send proof"

You immediately brought the phone away from your hand to switch it into camera mode while the call was still on, taking a quick picture of the tall, muscular man with white hair and black clothes on, before clicking open an app to send the picture to the person on the other side.

"There. Jerk off to it." You muttered before putting the phone back to your ear, hearing only silence for a little bit.

The silence followed up with a few mumbles, it seems like there were other people other than the person who paid you to catch this person, and it looks like they had an issue with the image you sent them.

"...That's not him"

The other end spoke, and your eyebrows furrowed immediately. Not realizing you had uncrossed your legs as you leaned forward in disbelief.

"What do you mean? He perfectly fits the description you said. Tall, white hair, and can fight. He put up a great fight and he has white hair. With a vague description like that I have to earn something in return for being able to catch something like this!"

You raised your voice, but the person wasn't buying it. How were you even supposed to find a man when he wears a mask all the time?

"We asked you to find Lumiere, not the Leader of- Ah forget it. This never happened"

Your mouth dropped in disbelief. Instinctively your legs forced your body to jump right up, now you were pacing around the room with your hand to your head, you seriously fucked up this time.

And to add the fact that they mentioned, what? A leader? A leader of what exactly? Well it probably doesn't even matter since you were currently at N109 Zone. Everything here is dangerous and oh boy...

If you had caught the Leader of Onychinus that lives here at N109 Zone... No. There's no way you'd have easily caught him.

"Wait, wait! I'll do it again, I'll toss this guy on the streets and get you the guy you want okay! If you could just find more intel on him-" You desperately tried to reason with them, but it didn't matter, their mind was set.

"The deal is off, girl. Whatever you do with the guy you have there is not our business. Goodbye"

Before you could talk them out of it any further, they hung up on you. However you were stubborn and you sent them a few texts, but it seemed like they had already blocked you.

"Fuck!" You cussed. Throwing your phone onto the worn out couch that was on the other end of the room. Usually you were very good at what you do, but it seems like making a few mistakes could happen as well.

The entire time you were freaking out and pacing around your room thinking of what to do next, you didn't realize that the man you had handcuffed onto the chair had been awake the moment you called your client.

He was kind enough to listen to what your true intentions were before he made a move on you, so when it was clear that you got the wrong man, he let you have your moment of distress before he decided to do anything else.

You didn't have the energy to drag the heavy man all the way out at the moment. Right now you needed a drink, a strong one at that. You'll deal with this man on another day, but not today.

Just when you were about to open the doors leading to another room, you found yourself struggling to create a gap on the two gigantic thick pieces of wood. A frown stronger than before engulfs your face as you tsked.

"What the-"

You were cut off when you heard a click behind you. Without wasting a second you turned your head to face the white haired man that was supposed to be unconcious on the chair, but instead you found him standing right in front of you.

Before you could lift your hand to attack him, he had your hands pinned onto the door with a dark red mist, almost resembling the color of blood, you were going to use your legs next, but they were also useless as they remained stuck.

"Shit!" You cussed under your breath, things were starting to get really dangerous. But you tried to remain calm, since you always knew how to get yourself out of situations like these.

"Wrong guy, huh?" The white haired man raised his eyebrow at you. His hands shoved into his pockets as he looked down to meet his eyes with yours, you felt mocked. But you weren't gonna give in.

"Heh yeah... Bummer"

You awkwardly laughed, trying to find a way to escape. Eyes darting around the room to find something that would help. But your search was futile when his hand grabbed your face and turned it to face him, your wide eyes locked in with his crimson ones.

"There's no use finding an escape, kitten. You're stuck here with me until I decide to let you go" His deep yet dominating voice calmly said, the sudden nickname he gave you made you furrow your eyebrows.

"Until you decide to let me go? Oh hell nah"

You shook your head to release the grip on your face, you were planning on acting like a small fry and crawl your way out, but something about being looked down on bothered you, and you just had to say something about it.

"Listen man, I don't know who you are, but I admit this whole thing was my fault, okay? If you need something to compensate for whatever loss you had I'll give it, just name your price"

In a strong yet calm manner, you bribed the man in front of you in an attempt to free yourself, but once again, like deja vu, he wasn't buying it.

"I don't think so"

You heard him answer before your entire vision is covered in red and black, few feathers can be seen swishing around before the dirty and worn out room you were at was replaced with an extravagant one with a dark aesthetic. A bedroom to be exact.

Your eyes widened in shock, frantically letting your head move left and right in disbelief. Did you just teleport?

"What the hell..." You whispered, not releasing that your hands were bound behind you now.

You had no idea that evols could teleport, or maybe that was this guy's whole shtick, either way, right now wasn't the time to be impressed.

Before you could ask why you were brought into a bedroom, a large hand wrapped itself around your left arm and pulled you toward the bed, gently yet strong enough to toss you onto the bed, the sudden gesture made you immediately go to defense mode.

"Hey man what gives-" You yelled, but the moment you turned your head you were an inch away from the white haired man's face.

You didn't realize this before because of how stressed out you were but, he was very attractive.

"A little kitten decided to pull me out from a very important meeting, I would just give that kitten a little flick on the forehead and be on my way, but to know that I wasn't even the kitten's main target is a bit annoying"

He said, each word he spoke made you feel his hot breath on your lips, but you had to stay focused and get out.

"W-Why's that?" You slightly furrowed your eyebrows once more, trying to mask your awareness with an innocent confused look.

"Because I can't kill it without a reason" He concluded. The red gleam in his eyes made you shudder, the bloodlust was there alright.

You still didn't know who this man was, however. So as if the threat didn't happen, you audaciously decided to open your mouth to ask.

"By the way, who even are you?"

You had no idea your tone was so mocking as to how curious you were, you watched as the man had a lost expression on his face, it didn't show shock, but he was definitely taken back by your question.

"...How old are you?" He answered back with a question completely irrelevant to yours, but you answered him anways.

"21, why?" You watched him scoff.

"The way you behave is like a child" You weren't exactly phased by his words, cause you were too busy figuring out how to release yourself from the evol that was holding you in place.

Your silence hinted the man that your focus was on something else, and that bothered him. So to grab your attention he sat himself of the bed and lifted you up, now you were suddenly sitting on his lap, back facing him.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, out of everything you thought of you weren't expecting him to lift you up like nothing and have you sat on his lap.

Oh, it kinda feels comfy...

You thought, snapping yourself out of it when you remembered the situation you were in.

No wait! I gotta lock in!

"H-Hey what are you doing, man!?" You yelled, turning your head to eye the intimidating man who smirked at you.

"You don't think you can just leave after putting me in such a sorry state without compensation, do you?"

Your eyes widened at his words, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. It seemed like the fear hasn't kicked in until now. In response to his question that wasn't particularly seeking a response, you gulped.

"I-I told you I'll do something as an apology earlier..." You said in a quiet tone, almost mumbling, but still audible.

"I rather not wait. I'm not a patient man"

You felt his large hands wrap itself around your torso, holding you still as you felt something hard poke your ass. You stared into the distance with wide eyes, almost like you were in daze before unconciously muttering the words-

"What the fuck"

"It looks like compensation won't be the only thing I need to gain tonight, but also a lesson for that mouth of yours" He whispered into your ear, you felt your face heating up from the sudden intimacy.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were excited.

You remained silent, waiting to see what his next move was. You were too busy suppressing how you felt to notice his hands moving under your clothes to feel your bare skin, until you felt his cold fingertips. Making you flinch and your breath hitch.

"Sylus..." He whispered.

"...What?"

"I'm Sylus"

You felt your face crumble in shock. Suddenly freezing before struggling to look back at the man slowly. You heard about him so many times before ever since you came to N109 Zone. There's even posters about him throwing in high prices if he was captured.

It was stupid that your client didn't accepted Sylus, because he was probably worth more than Lumiere. But even if they did wanted Sylus, you'd probably still end up in the same situation as you are now.

"...Fuck" Like a machine that reacts through cuss words, you swore under your breath. Watching the man himself, Sylus tilt his head at you with a raised eyebrow.

"...Fine, make it quick" You concluded. You decided to get over with whatever he wanted. Knowing that running away was futile now that you knew who he was. Totally not because you wanted to spend some time with the attractive older male.

"...I like your confidence" He smirked, his hands now actively trailing upward to lift your bra upwards under your clothes, his fingers brushing against your nipples, the unexpected gesture made you close your eyes on instinct, biting your lower lip.

You felt his fingers circle around your areolas, you could tell he was playing with you, and with the pride you had that bothered you. But you can't help but stay quiet and let him touch you the way he pleased, something about his touch was making you lose all reason.

Not realizing that you were squirming the entire time, you heard him groan behind you as you unconciously wanted to feel his clothed dick on your swollen clit, being the one in control, he noticed your needs.

"Don't move, or else I'll be getting more than a compensation from you" He warned.

"Tsk! Then hurry up, old man!" You groaned impatiently, face red from having your nipples touched bare by someone else other than you.

You didn't realize that your words would cost you when his right hand suddenly went from your breast to slipping down your pants in one swift move, making you attempt to move away from his hand like an idiot.

"W-What are you-?!"

"You want me to hurry up right? Then I will do just that" He said calmly, rubbing your clothed cunt to feel your juices soak your underwear. It felt uncomfortable and dirty, yet you can't help but shiver in excitement.

Sylus used his fingers to rub around your clit too. Letting the wetness rub against it so that teasing you would affect you more than it should, also to rile up my reactions from you.

You huffed when you felt him playing with your nipple with one hand, and the other rubbing on your clothed pussy. It felt good, but it wasn't enough, you were starting to wonder what kind of compensation Onychinus' Leader was even looking for at this point.

"S-Shit" You groaned, feeling impatient of having your body played around with no sight of release soon.

"Swearing again? You really are looking for some sort of punishment" It seemed like Sylus didn't like your sharp mouth, so he decided to give you something to learn to not do it again.

You had to hold back a whine when he suddenly removed his hand from your throbbing cunt, only to put it back in again, this time directly without having your underwear act as a barrier.

The bare feeling of his fingers on your wet clit made you roll your eyes back in satisfaction, finally getting the stimulation you've been eagerly wanting the entire time.

"Mmph! A-Ah there!"

You shamelessly moaned, thrusting your hips against his fingers to feel them rub against your small and swollen clit, just a few strokes and you'll finally get the release you've been wanting.

"So naughty" Sylus whispered into your ear, connecting his lips onto your neck and giving it a suck, letting his teeth add onto the friction to distract you from the pleasure you were getting from your cunt and nipple.

"I wanna cum!! H-Hurry up!!" You demanded, although Sylus found your tough personality endearing, he won't stand for being ordered around by someone as small as you.

"And what makes you think you deserve release so early? You need to learn your place, sweetie" His voice deepened as he warned, your eyes widened when his finger suddenly dragged itself down to your hole.

Before you could react, he already pushed one finger in, like he knew you already, his finger found it's way onto your sweet spot. You had to let out a gasp before moaning nonstop, feeling his finger continuously poke onto the same spot until your orgasm neared.

"N-No- Wait! P-Pleas- A-Ah!"

You threw your head back when he added another finger, tears forming in your eyes that you never thought would be from the pleasure you were getting, the orgasm you were going to have was being forced out of you without a second thought, you almost lost yourself in what the main goal was.

Right when you felt like you were inching towards cumming, Sylus removed his fingers from your hole that was now clenching around the air, hoping for something to substitute the painful arousal that was pooling out of it.

"Ah ah ah, bad kittens don't get their fill yet" He teased, you felt your vision turning foggy from the desperation creeping onto you. You almost forgot your hands were rendered useless at the moment because you still weren't free.

"C-Come on..." You whispered, almost in defeat. Your voice hinting a strong sense of desperation, almost making you sound cute.

"Don't worry, I'm not done yet"

Sylus reassured you, using his evol to pull your pants down along with your underwear, the action didn't make you notice he had lowered his own pants as well, releasing his hard veiny cock that was almost as large as a shampoo bottle.

"If you take this, then I'll accept your compensation and let you go" He rubbed his cock against your entrance, you couldn't see his length properly, but a few rubs and a very visible vein was enough to give you a shock.

"W-Wait that's way too big, I-I can't-"

"You can and you will. Or do you want to compensate me with your life?" He said, he wasn't serious. But how would you know? You're too drunk off your mind to think.

"..." You pressed your lips into a thin line, shutting yourself up from protesting any further.

"Good girl"

Sylus gently laid you down on the bed, your hands that were bound behind you now in front, as well as you having a better look of his cock. It was big enough to reach his belly button, and that intimidated you greatly, yet you couldn't wait to find out what it was like to have your gushing hole get plugged by it.

"Don't struggle" Was all the white haired man said before he started teasing his tip onto your hole, slowly pushing himself in as he watched your juices gush out of your hole to make room for his cock.

"A-AH! T-Too much!!" You whined, but Sylus believed you were stronger than that.

"I'm not even halfway in. But if it's too much for you i'll stop. Though I expected a bounty hunter to be more tougher than this" He mocked, watching your face glare at him.

"B-Bring it on, old man!! I'm no pussy!" You retorted, to which he chuckled at you.

"Good to hear"

He gave another push into your hole, you were sure with this one he was definitely more than halfway in. The feeling of his cock stretching into you while pushing onto your cervix made you cry in a manner you would have never thought you could do.

"O-Oh fuck!!" You exclaimed, having tears well up in your eyes again.

"Tsk, that mouth needs more than a lesson" Sylus tsked, before grabbing your face to kiss him, with no warning he had his tongue distracting you from the mix of pain and pleasure you were receiving.

His kiss was rough, yet so comforting. He made sure not an inch of your mouth was neglected before he started thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth with your eyes rolled back, right away with a few thrusts you could feel your orgasm that was denied earlier finding it's way back, and it was dangerously close too.

"M-Mmphh!!" You started becoming more aware of the smooching noises and squelches your mouth and hole was making, but everytime you tried to listen you'd be distracted by the loud slaps of Sylus' cock onto your pussy continuously.

Each time he hits the right spots you can't help but keep your eyes hung at the roof of your head, crying into the hungry kisses Sylus gave you to make your hole clamp down his dick.

Before you could even realize it, your orgasm finally arrived. Leaving you a moaning mess crying from stimulation. Also letting Sylus finally break the kiss between you two to relieve himself.

"A-Almost there" Sylus muttered in gritted teeth, not stopping for a second to chase his own ejaculation into your cunt while you helplessly laid on the bed, taking in his length continuously with every broken moan that left your mouth.

In a groan, Sylus let himself cum into your gushing wet hole that soaked the bedsheets, giving your forehead a small kiss before finally releasing your wrists and pulling out if you to let his cum spill out your twitching hole.

You could leave right now, but after having your hole destroyed and throbbing, you couldn't even sit up if you wanted to. The white haired man that was now lying beside you knew it all too well.

"Am I... *huff* ...free from... *pant*... compensating... ah.... you now...?" You said in between pants, your voice cracking from how hard you cried, your little attempt to speak made Sylus smile at you, hand on his head as he stared at you like he adored you.

"Hmm... No"

Your mouth dropped in disbelief, snapping your neck to look at the smirking white haired man.

"Perhaps I need to be compensated a few more times, only once isn't enough"

He wrapped his arms to hold you close to him, now your eyes were locked onto his chest, as he rested his chin onto your head while you remained speechless.

It looks like you got yourself in real big trouble with the one man you tried to avoid the entire time bounty hunting...

Onychinus' Leader Sylus.

-----

A/N: GUESS WHO CAME BACK W A NEW SMUT ONESHOT? thats right, i know i usually only do WUWA smut but i did mention I play LADS and oml... SYLUS...

PLEASE PUT ME ON A CHOKEHOLD SIR I AM YOURSSSS

ZAYNE PLEASE DON'T MISUNDERSTAND I LOVE YOU OKAY 😭😭😭

anyways enjoy your meals ✨️✨️✨️😋

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS DIE (HHD)

YOU WERE under scrutiny of the one and only justsofamous for years and years before finding out who he is. constantly having to question your self-worth was a bigger downhill slope than the time you were begging your friends, crying and pleading, for them to go to a concert with you of an artist they all hated except you. but now that you're pretty much going through the motions of retracing your self esteem and your (extremely ironic) relationship with this guy who harassed you and then picked enough apples to win your heart, you started to consider moving in with him after he offered it enough times. only that, once you actually did...things started falling apart again for the two of you.

former streamer!scaramouche x gn streamer!reader

This is PART TWO of the smau HOW HATERS ARE BORN. If you haven't finished that one, it's recommended you do before reading this.

genre: smau, lovers being lovers, twitch streamer reader, farmer scara, i made reader like a feral rat, comedy, crackfic, romance, some drama, many apples

warnings: lots of swearing, crude and unnecessary jokes, kys/kms jokes, death threats, a lot of things that are spelled wrong, alcohol, excessive partying, irl photos to visualize scenarios but there's none of reader

status: starting soon!

a/n: i never actually thought i'd make a part two to this, and i don't really know what brought me to this point where i needed to pull a 22 jump street. did 21 jump street ever need a sequel itself? anyway, it’s something to give you guys as a thanks, and even if it’s kinda hidden in obscurity, at least it’s out there in the world. :) enjoy!!

♡ prologue || "stop, you are literally ruining my life right now."

chapter one — spork 🍎 ♡ chapter two — 1985

chapter three — the cursed corn maze ♡ chapter four — thug gangster shit

chapter five — the amoeba sisters ♡ chapter six — love is like taxes

chapter seven — it's getting old ♡ chapter eight — the moment of truth

chapter nine — 7 bullets ♡ chapter ten — gg, chat

taglist is open!

[ak4e7a]

sweet sugar venom — PSH (teaser)

street racer!sunghoon x street racer! reader

"pick me up and take me like a vitamin, 'cause my body's sweet like sugar venom, hell yeah..."

"so alive, i could die, give me some sweet venom..."

cw: i honestly don’t know. mentions of cheating, violence, somewhat illegal street racing. there’s no dark content lol that’s all i’ll say otherwise i might spoil something

smut cw: daddy kink, brat tamer!hoon, brat!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, spitting, choking, dacryphilia, heavy aftercare <3 ... more tbd

thank you to @karinasbaby for the sexy ass banner ... stella ILYSM my baby doll for life

taglist: open! request to be tagged so you know when i finally drop this 😋

preview under the cut, let's get this show on the road.

“Hey, Y/N! Nice wrap,” Riki says, waving his long arms at you like he’s drowning. The tall, newly-turned 21-year-old bounds towards you before tackling you in a hug that sends you almost crashing into the ground, your hands flying to tug the hem of your skirt down lest your protective younger brother scold you about not dressing for the weather. It’s a cold spring night, as proven by Riki who’s in a loose, knitted navy blue sweater and destroyed light wash jeans.

“Jeez, Riki, I just saw you yesterday, no need to suffocate me,” you grumble affectionately, reaching up to muss his black-and-silver hair before sitting back down on the hood of your car. You’ve been fond of the boy since Jungwon brought him over one day, his first new friend since losing his best friend (and yours, honestly) in a betrayal that still hurts to speak of to this day. Riki clings onto you like you’re his older sister, too, and you reckon it probably has something to do with missing his own sister back home. “You saw me finish the wrap on the car, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks good even at night! Very professional. Maybe you can wrap the GTR next?” he says, to which you side-eye him, and he adds, “I can pay you.”

“You can pay for my meals every time we go out to eat for the next three months and I’ll call it even.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal. You eat less than Jungwon hyung, anyways.”

“Why are you talking shit about me to my sister again, freak?” your younger brother demands, making his way up to the small crowd that’s starting to form around you, Riki, and Jaeyun. He looks taller today, you think to yourself, and when he comes into full view, you see that he’s riding on the back of an unfamiliar person, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a pretty nose, whose bangs droop over his eyes. He’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, with a black and blue leather racing jacket covering his torso from the chilly Seoul air.

“Well, did I fucking lie?” Riki snaps back, arms crossed. You hide your laugh in the crook of your arm, eyes locking with the man who’s got your brother draped over his broad shoulders like a backpack. He looks at you intensely, in a way that makes you feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. What’s his deal?

“Whatever, cricket legs.” Jungwon jumps off the man’s back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You notice that he’s yet again stolen one of your oversized hoodies. “Oh, hyung! This is my sister, by the way. Noona, this is Sunghoon hyung. He’s joining Enigma.”

He’s cute, pretty, even, and you like that. You’ve always preferred pretty boys. And up until about five seconds ago, you would have said that—even though your ex-boyfriend is a cheating bastard who deserves nothing but suffering—he was still the prettiest man you’ve come across.

But this one, this one in front of you right now, this one takes the cake. He’s got full, thick brows that frame dark almond eyes, and his cheekbones flow into his jawline in a way that makes you think his face has probably stopped traffic at least once in his life. Before you stare at him for way too long, you reach into your purse and pull out one of your mango-flavored Hi-Chews (from your personal stash) to give him. “Hi, Sunghoon. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Enigma.”

He repeats his own version of your greeting a bit too curtly for your liking, but you don’t care either way, he’ll be under your thumb in no time, just like everyone else, just the way you like. Rolling the wrapped cube in his hand, he asks, “What’s this for?”

To which you reply, “Oh, nothing. I just like candy.”

“I feel like ‘like’ is an understatement,” Riki snorts, sticking his hand in your purse for something he can snack on. You sigh and hand him your purse for him to rummage around more freely.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at that, but turns to you anyways. “Do you race, too? I don’t want to assume or anything.”

You give him a coy smile, translucent bubblegum-pink-manicured fingernails clicking against the hood of your car as you drum your fingers against it. “Yeah, sometimes. I’m banned from racing right now, though, until the end of the season at least.”

He cocks his head like a curious puppy, blinking slowly at you. Oh, no. He’s cute and probably doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely dressed like he knows he’s hot. “Why’s that?”

Your smile turns into a smug smirk as you answer, “Because I go too fast.”

“Fourth-gen Supra,” he muses, glancing between your bare legs at the titanium Toyota emblem on the hood that you’d had imported from Japan. For some reason, you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “Cute.”

“Oh? And what’s your ride?”

“Beamer M8 Comp,” Sunghoon says, an air of nonchalance about the answer like it’s nothing special. It kind of pisses you off.

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 9

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

The house was clean but it bothered you it wasn't cleaner. It had been almost a week since the murders. You didn't remember most of your time at the hospital. The doctors told you that you went into cardiac arrest due to trauma. Even your heart was over dramatic. You died for a few seconds but something somewhere decided you needed to be here. At least that's the way you liked to think of it. Friday was Sydney and Tatum's funeral. It was a hard thing to sit through especially seeing Dewy cry the way he did. There was a reason he lived through the murders, maybe it was the same one that kept you breathing.

Staying at home alone was slowly killing you and your dad saw it. In all honesty you couldn't believe he had agreed to letting Stu move in for a bit. Your dad barley let you leave the bed, scared you wouldn't heal properly. He had been taking care of you the best he could. Changing your bandages and whatnot. He had to go back to work soon and he didn't want you to be by yourself.

Stu had called you every night once he heard you left the hospital. He told you all about how his parents were back in town just to see the damage to the house. He didn't seem upset by the heartless fact but you knew it had to hurt worse than his stab wounds. Billy moved back in with his dad, that's what Stu had told you. Billy kept calling but for reasons unknown to him you never answered. Even if you did pick up the moment you heard his voice the phone would hit the receiver.

You heard a car pull in the driveway making your heart sink. Trying to convince your father to let you ride with him to pick up Stu was an impossible task. "You are not going outside with it being cold as hell. You better be glad I'm letting him come over here at all. End of discussion." It was aggravating sure but you couldn't argue with him.

"Boy who raised you?" Your dad snapped as he opened the front door. "Um no one really Sir." You dad dropped Stu's bags by the couch letting the boy walk inside. "That would explain it." Your eyes were wide hearing the hateful conversation. "What are you guys talking about?" Your dad hung his keys up on the hook leaving his coat on the rack beside the keys. "Your friend here thinks 21 Jump Street is better than Miami Vice." Stu shrugged while you bit your lip holding back a laugh and tears. The last time you saw him was at the funeral and you did get to speak to him then. "Is it alright if I give her a hug?" Stu looked at your dad then back at you.

"She's a grown woman ask her." Your dad may not act like it but he appreciated the boy's polite nature. "Can I hug you?" He held out his arms, his baggy sweater covering the wounds you knew littered his skin. "Get over here doofus." Your voice was shaky. A small wince left your lips as Stu squeezed you a little too tight. You weren't about to complain though. You were just happy he was here. Stu pulled away once your dad started talking. "I cleaned out the guest bedroom so you'll have a place to stay. Now I don't care if you two hang out in the same room but the doors in this house stay open." Stu nodded terrified of your dad.

"Understood Mr. L/n." Stu saluted and your dad just sighed. "Have you eaten yet kid?" Your friend barley remembered his middle name let alone the last time he ate. "No Sir." Mumbling under his breath your dad grabbed his coat and keys again. "I'm going to get pizza. Is he allergic to anything?" He asked pointing at Stu. "Soap maybe but that's about it." Stu poked your arm with a smile, happy you still act like your old self. Things were different no doubt but if you made it through death he was sure you two could fix whatever was broken. Your dad took off leaving the house to you two.

"21 jump street really? Man you've got a type." You joked but Stu stayed serious. "Have you talked to him?" By him he meant Billy. The last person you wanted to talk to or about. "No. We have nothing to talk about." The biggest understatement in the history of understatements. "You have plenty to talk about. You could say "Hey Billy does this look infected?" Ooh or "Billy did you ever think that haircut made you look like a ken doll?" You laughed so hard your side started to shoot pain throughout your abdomen.

Stu didn't know his own strength when it came to jokes. "Um here sit down." He grabbed your arm as his other hand rested on your lower back supporting you as you sat on the couch. "I'm fine. It does that sometimes." He looked down at you noticing the bags under your eyes and the sort of death warmed over look you were absolutely rocking. "Can I see it?" He said wanting to compare the damage. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." You winked at him but he just stared at you with concern. Slowly you peeled up your shirt showing off the gauze. "Jesus Christ it's so bruised." He curiously touched the tip of his finger to the discolored skin.

"Ah!" You screamed scaring him. He jerked his hand away as you held your side and laughed. He felt hurt for a second before pursing his lips, finally having a laugh. "I'm glad you're lightening up." You patted the seat next to you wanting him settle down for a bit. "I've just been really worried about you. You literally died." You could hear the sadness start to crack in his voice. "Hey, only for a few seconds. I'm a drama queen at heart." Stu smiled looking at the wall rather than you.

You grabbed his hand from his lap weaving your fingers with his. "It's going to be hard but we'll make it work. We'll start all over. Just us against the world." He wanted to imagine Billy here. He'd be on the other side of you just sitting, listening to you and Stu talk. The Billy you knew wasn't the Billy Stu had lived with for the past year. Sure he could be a self righteous asshole but behind closed doors he was caring in his own way.

"How is he?" You asked breaking the silence in the room. "He's good. He's going back to school tomorrow." The school had closed for a week out of respect for the people who lost their lives. Everyone had told you to take your time to heal and grieve before going back. It was a surprise to hear Billy would want to go back immediately. "Why?" Stu thought back to the long conversations he's had with his friend every night since he left the hospital. "He said he just wants to get back into a routine. At this point we're just trying to graduate."

It was a valid point. "What are you doing after graduation?" Before, Stu would've said party. But now he truly didn't know. "I guess go to college like everybody else." You didn't know it but your little speech really did a number on him. Not to mention the brush of death he experienced. "That's no fun." You pouted. The boy just shrugged. "Helps me blend in you know? Like you said when we first met." If Stu wanted his sequel he was going to have to work for it.

Lifting up your arms you cup his face turning him to face you. "Don't think you need to change Stu Macher." Now you were just confusing him. "You changed yourself for Billy and it worked. Why can't I be who you need me to be?" His voice was once again wobbly. "Because Stu I fell in love with the real you. The one that hits on anything with a pulse with no intention of following through. The real you that secretly loves girly shit but won't admit it in fear of your friends hating you for it." His lip quivered as tears built up on his waterline.

"If it wasn't for you this whole story line would've been much different. You gave me hope that this whole thing might just work out. You're my best friend, and before you get upset thinking I've friend zoned you. Just know that I love you with all my shitty heart." It was a little soon to be saying the word "love" but after helping murder people it was probably the least dramatic thing you could say. Stu lunged forward with the intention of kissing you. Instead his forehead collided with yours. You grabbed your head falling back from the force quickly holding your side which also started to pulse with pain. "I am so sorry." Stu said trying to check your forehead. "It's okay just give me a second everything is hurting."

If Billy was here Stu knew he'd take initiative. He'd grab your face making sure you weren't hurt and would somehow magically make the pain go away. But Stu wasn't Billy so he had to think of the next best thing. "What can I do to help?" He asked as you waited for the headache to stop. "Can you get the ice pack out of the freezer?" Now that he could do. He pulled open the fridge going straight for the ice box at the bottom. He grabbed the cute little plaid ice bag from the box and shut the door. "Here you go."

"Thanks." You held the bag on top of your head for a second as the cold helped alleviate the beginning of a migraine. Stu sat back down next to you watching you close your eyes. You really were one of the most beautiful girls he's ever seen. "Okay now if you promise not to beat me up you can have that kiss now." He carefully placed his lips on yours, smiling into the kiss. Stu pulled away wanting it just to be a cute little moment. "You didn't have to stop." You said giving him a weird look for the grin on his face. "I know. It's just... you actually smell terrible and I just couldn't go on much longer." You scrunched up your nose playfully smacking his good arm. Stu was back and you were glad to have him.

Your dad finally brought home the pizza noticing someone had already set the table. "Y/n I told you not to be-" He looked at you sitting on the couch with a magazine while Stu was fixing drinks. "What do you want to drink?" Stu asked grabbing the last empty glass. "I didn't know you hired a maid Y/n." That boy was whipped and your dad knew it the moment Stu got in his car. "I didn't, he offered to help." You defended yourself and Stu backed you up.

"It's true. I just wanted to help is all." He wasn't lying but there was more to it. You weren't able to do the few things you loved to do. Having the table set and everyone's food ready was like a love language of yours. Stu was just happy to see you smile because of something he did. "I'll have tea." Your dad sat the pizza on the table as you walked over to Stu. "What do you want to drink?" Stu asked you once he sat down your dad's glass of tea. "I am perfectly capable of making my own drink." You protested but Stu was determined. "I know but I'm already up and making glasses so what would you like?"

You mumbled an answer as he filled your glass. "Thank you." He just smiled at you telling you to sit down. Once Stu sat down everyone started grabbing pieces. "What kind of music do you listen to?" Your dad asked Stu before taking a bite of his pizza. Stu swallowed the food in his mouth before he spoke. "I listen to what most people my age do. A bit of the Beastie Boys mixed with some Nirvana. Nine Inch Nails is pretty cool." Stu saw the unamused look on your dad's face. "That new Elvis record sure is groovy." Your friend's impersonation made you nearly choke on your food. Your dad even laughed which was a hard thing to get him to do.

"He sounds just like you." Your dad pointed towards you. "I do not sound like that." He raised his eyebrow as your mouth hung open. "You definitely sound like that." Stu said choosing to side with your dad rather than you. You shrugged taking a drink from your glass. Once the box was empty your dad folded it throwing it in the trash. "Thanks for dinner Mr. L/n." Stu said making your dad shake his head. "You're welcome kid." Finishing the rest of your drink you stood up not with a wince in pain. "Woah you need help?" Stu asked as he quickly stood up ignoring his own pain. "No I'm fine. I think I'm going to take a shower."

The room got quiet. Stu didn't know what all that entailed and your dad was simply waiting for Stu to make a wrong move. "Dad I'm going to need you to show him how to cover this so he can help when you go to work tomorrow." The boy next to you looked at you like you were crazy. The thought of you being half naked with him and your dad in the same room gave him the heebiejeebies. "Don't he know how to cover his own wounds?" Your dad asked thinking the whole demonstration thing seemed awkward. He didn't do awkward.

"Oh I've just been letting the stitches breath." Stu said nonchalantly. You gasped at the admission in shock. "Good God. Both of you get up stairs to her bathroom I can't believe I've gotta do this." Your dad cursed under his breath. You and Stu started up the stairs before you had a chance to scold him. "Let me see them." You went ahead and started pulling at his shirt. "Unhand me woman!" He yelled embarrassing you. He laughed as he made his way into your bathroom.

Your dad made his way into the bathroom bemused by you and Stu's thumb wrestling match. "Y/n come here." You stood with your arms up as far as you could bring them. He grabbed the hem of the shirt trying to pull it off without hurting you. By this point he had the technique down. Stu cringed just thinking about what was under the bandage. Billy had told him what you did and how you did it. When you hit that wall the blade had curved going diagonally into your skin. They said it was a wonder it didn't go out the other side.

Stu had cuts on his arm and different sized cuts all over his abdomen. Some of which broke the skin on his back. You crossed your arms over your bra concealing what was already covered. "Can you get your shirt off by yourself?" Your dad asked his parental mode on. "Um yeah." Stu said getting up off the edge of the tub and slowly peeling off his shirt. "Jesus Christ boy." You covered your mouth seeing his blood stained tank top. "What?"

"That crazy son of a bitch sure did a number on you." He said looking Stu up and down. "I don't go down easy." He laughed not truly understanding how depressing the sight was to see. "You don't have to tell me that. Do you need help taking of the wife beater?" You mentally face palmed at his words. Stu started to peel the shirt off but his skin was stuck to it. "Ow fuck!" Stu cursed forgetting about your dad in the room. "I'm so sorry."

"How long have you had that shirt on?" Stu thought about it for a second. "Since last night." He really was helpless. "Get in the tub." Your dad sighed but he couldn't be mad at Stu. You told him about his family or rather the lack there of. Stu taught himself everything he knows so he's simply doing all he knows how to do. "Excuse me?" Stu asked not sure if he heard him right. "Y/n get me a warm wet rag." Your dad practically pushed Stu into the bathtub. What Stu failed to realize was that the fabric of the tight tank top had bonded to the fresh scab each stab wound had. If he just torn it off it would rip the scabs off leaving him bleeding again with the risk of infection. If he didn't already have one by now.

"Here hold the rag on each of your cuts to soften up the scabs." Stu did as told trusting that your dad knew what he was doing. "Now let's get this done really quickly. You watching?" Stu looked over at you as you smiled down at him all scrunched up in the bathtub. Even with your dad present it was an oddly intimate moment. "Take off all the tape and gauze. Throw it away, any time we take off the bandage it goes in the trash. Even if it looks clean." Stu nodded along mentally taking notes. He looked at your stitches noticing they didn't look near as bad as his. The bruising was absolutely horrendous but the wound itself looked great.

"Clean it with warm water only. Don't use alcohol or anything like that." Stu starred blankly regretting his previous actions. "If you did don't worry, I'm surprised you tried to clean it at all." You wanted to tell your dad to be nicer but you honestly agreed with him. He took a different wet rag wiping your side gently. "That doesn't hurt?" Stu asked worried about you. "Actually it's not that bad after awhile. It's mainly when I raise my arm to take of my shirt that it pulls the skin and hurts."

"After it's clean put some Neosporin on it and you cover it back up. Since she is taking a shower though I'll have to tape a piece of plastic over the bandages. Make sense?" It made sense but Stu knew he'd forget most of it. "How will I take a shower?" He asked your dad. The boy had been living without bandages since the hospital. He didn't know you needed to do all this extra work and his parents sure didn't ask if he needed help. "Honestly I think you'll just have to get a wash cloth and wash off for the next couple of days."

You saw the discouraged look on Stu's face. He was almost too cute to be a murderer. "Don't worry. We got each other's backs right?" You asked him dragging him from thought. "Of course." You and your dad slowly started peeling Stu's tank top off. You apologized every time he winced or cursed in pain. "Well now you'll learn not to do that again." Your dad said as he threw the ruined shirt in the garbage. The wounds on his pale skin were an angry red meaning he was probably starting to get an infection. Your dad helped clean each wound and after awhile everyone was making jokes.

He placed the last piece of medical tape down making sure he got all of the wounds. "That's the last of them I think. Now let's go get you a shirt on and let her take a shower." Stu slowly got out of the bathtub taking his sweater out of the bathroom with him. Your dad was just about to walk out before you hugged him. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." He was starting to understand why you needed that boy over. "You'd be surprised." Your dad said as he left the room.

The shower was quick and careful. Making sure to avoid the new bandages at all cost. Once you got out and dried off you peeled the plastic layer off of your side, throwing it in the trashcan. You opened up your closet deciding to put on a robe because you struggled with shirts. You walked down stairs to tell everyone good night when you saw both Stu and your dad passed out on the couch. Your friend was curled up with his head on the chair arm, using it as a makeshift pillow. While your dad sat with his arms crossed and head back. You walked towards the TV set turning it off with a click.

"I was listening to that." Your dad mumbled. "Yeah I bet. Go to bed you've got work tomorrow and Stu. Stu?" You called his name slowly shaking him awake. His eyes were wide with confusion. That nap must have been deep. "Hey hun I'm going to bed. Your bed is already made up and everything." Stu barley understood a word you said. "I'll make sure he gets to bed and stays in it. Goodnight sweetheart." Your dad said as he kissed your forehead. You just smiled. "Night dad, love you." You said as he returned it. "Love you too."

Part 10

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you)

[spideysbruh]

Distance

liked by tchalamet, sabrinacarpenter and 3,272,737 others

y/n i love you heaps, like candy sweets

view all 97,626 comments

tchalamet i love you more, like the sea loves the shore

y/n liked

rocketyn my favorite celeb couple fr

ynslipgloss yns aesthetic is my favorite it's so pleasing

@y/n just tweeted- just said bye to my boyfriend cause he'll be gone for like four months oh imma kms

@snowyyn replied- me after I finish a movie with him

@y/n replied to @snowyyn- girl me too

@realchalamet replied- stop. I miss you already.

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- BABEEE 😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- princess. missing her so much

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,827,288 others

y/n in my tropical era 💕

view all 101,772 comments

tchalamet I MISS YOU

y/n I MISS YOU MORE BABY

tchalamet so beautiful

y/n liked

tchalamet I wish I could twirl your hair around my fingers right now.

y/n stop im gonna cry. I wish you were here so I could give you a back rub

modernyn oh he's a mess rn

ynstan his comments 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶💕 so cute

@y/n just tweeted- watching kingsman im literally sooooo horny right now

@lovelyyn replied- REAL AS FUCKK

@y/n replied- like that man can do whatever he wants to me I swearrrr

@chromeyn replied- god I hope you never stop oversharing with us

@realchalamet replied- um ??? we're still together babe chill 🤨

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- ... im literally sooo joking hahaha you're the only man I've ever found attractive hahahaha (I miss you so much)

@realchalamet replied- I can see you still replying to other people 🙄

@richgirlyn replied- I'm deadd but I sooo understand you

@y/n replied- likeeeeee ?!!!???!

@y/n just tweeted- got high and took pictures of taron egerton in kingsman like it was a concert

@busyyn replied- been there fr

@huffleyn replied- sounds like a normal viewing of that movie tbh

@realchalamet liked and replied- what about my movies ? 🙁

@y/n liked and replied- oh dune is next baby don't worry

@realchalamet liked and replied- YAYYYYY

y/n just posted a story!

caption- missing his goofy lil ass extraaaa hard rn 🤧

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- missing this

@chalswonka just tweeted- bro timmy is yearning soooo bad lmaooo they gotta see each other soon I swear

@princessyn replied- it's so funny the differences in their posts y/n is just thirsting over ppl in movies and then he's like "miss her so much😭😭😭🔫🔫🔫💔💔💔" LMAOOOO

@spaceyn replied- tbf ppl were hating on her when she WOULD post about him a lot in the beginning, so she toned down a lot. ppl hate on her too much smfh

liked by y/n, hallebailey and 3,817,277 others

tchalamet MY LOVE SURPRISED MEEEE

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ynssocks YAYYY MY PARENTS ARE TOGETHER AGAINN

y/n ig I love you or smth idk 🙄

liked by tchalamet

y/n this is about to be the best four days of your life fr

liked by tchalamet

timmylaurie god she's so pretty wtf man

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- babygirl 😍😍😍🥰🥰

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 3,287,227 others

y/n 🥺 missed him lots

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tchalamet like tater tots?

liked by y/n

florencepugh MY FAVOURITE PEOPLEEE

y/n I LOVE YOU FLO

lucyxyn the throwback to her older captions w him 😭🫶

y/n just posted a story!

caption- our last day together for another two months 💔

liked by y/n, zendaya and 4,727,288 others

tchalamet i love you.

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y/n this is gonna be the worst two months of my life

bratzyn she's literally an angel I swear

lauriesamy he always takes the best pictures of her 🥺

takemetotheyn you glow different in the photos taken by someone who truly loves you

tchalamet liked

@y/n just tweeted- help i miss my bf 💔

@pepperyyn replied- uh oh now she's yearning 😭😭

@ynshairtie replied- there we goooo

@realchalamet replied- I miss you more 🥺

@snowyyn replied- damn no thirsting now

@y/n replied- well... maybe later 😔🤧

@y/n just tweeted- watching 21 jump street and omg dave franco is so cute🤭🤭 ive been giggling for the entire movie

@lauriesyn replied- girl your mann!!

@tipsyyn replied- IT RHYMES WITH GRAPE

@ynsbra replied- if she was still w her ex he would cry and post ab how he's gonna khs over this

@sazonyn replied to @ynsbra- HELPP WHOS HER EX ?!?!?!!!

@ynxtim replied- sh*wn m*ndes 💀💀 there's so many compilations of him being a weirdo jealous obsessed bf w her... even after for a while he was weird ab her. even though HE broke up w HER ... anyways yeah he sucks

@realchalamet replied- reduce... reuse... recycleee 🎶🎶🎶

@y/n liked

@y/n replied- i love how that's the scene you remember 😭😭💕

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,716,227

y/n living like a lusty flowerrr

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tchalamet I can't take this, you're too beautiful how did this happen

y/n liked

lauriesyn she's so ethereal

tchalamet are you running through the grass for hours?

y/n yeah and rolling through the hay like a puppy child fr

rachelzegler my pretty best friend !!!

y/n we ARE the two pretty best friends

y/n just posted a story!

caption- missing this. missing you @tchalamet

@y/n just tweeted- SEEING MY BOYFRIEND OH SO SOONNNN

@y/n replied- I watched wonka and little women on repeat I swear that's how badly I missed him 😭💕

@wonkasyn replied- what a journey we've witnessed

@realchalamet replied- I CANT WAIT BABYYYY

@gourmetyn replied- yayyy my parents will be back together again 🫶

@y/n liked and replied to @gourmetyn- you still have to send the adoption papers

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- BABYYYY 😍😍

y/n just posted a story!

caption- GUESS WHO'S BACKKKKK

*

[carolmunson]

baby, as if (part 1)

recommended listening: as if - blaque (2000) summary: your on and off again situationship just so happens to be the tri-state area's friendly neighborhood drug dealer. the robinhood of the the neighborhood. and you couldn't be any more toxic with each other. does the playboy know how to play nice when you start seeing someone new? dark!modern!drugdealer!fboy!eddie (but when i say modern i mean anywhere between the 2010s and 2020s. everyone is in their late twenties in this fic tho. except reefer rick.)

WARNING: 21+, minors DNI. this is a DARK piece of fanfiction. if you are sensitive to topics regarding threats of violence, references to abuse, active fighting between a couple, severely toxic relationships, manipulation, coercion, depictions of violence, drug use, alcohol use, potential gun violence, controlling behavior, blatant endangerment, threats of financial abuse, harsh name calling, and anything regarding genuine bad relationship content i would not recommend reading this work. this is not like my sadist!eddie fictions -- reader and eddie are NOT in a healthy relationship -- he is NOT A GOOD GUY in this. this fic does NOT contain non-con or dub-con. DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT on all warnings tho.

Two Months Ago

The screaming had both of your throats hoarse. Yelling from inside the club to the walk to the Camaro. The bouncers were so used to it by now that they just rolled their eyes. Not that they'd bother concerning themselves with the man whose always slipping them fifties so they'll let his friends in.

The screaming had both of your throats hoarse. Yelling from inside the club to the walk to the Camaro. The bouncers were so used to it by now that they just rolled their eyes. Not that they'd bother concerning themselves with the man whose always slipping them fifties so they'll let his friends in.

"You think I give A FUCK about you?! You think I -- HEY! HEY! GET IN THE FUCKIN' CAR. I'm talkin' to you!" "FUCK OFF! 'Get in the fuckin' car' -- fuck you, don't tell me what the fuck to do," you half yell while you click through the parking lot passed the car that's just roared to life.

He barrels around the hood, grill blowing smoke in the cold air from the heat. The parking lot is wet and your heels aren’t doing you any favors while you stumble over to the asphalt to call a cab. He growls when he gets to you with a grip so tight on your bicep that you yelp.

“Always out here fuckin’ embarrassing me,” he grumbles while he drags you toward the passengers seat of of the open car, “You drunk bitch.”

“You’re drunk,” you mumble, crossing your arms while he slams the door behind you. He takes his keys out while he walks around the front, falling into the deep bucket driver's seat. When he puts the key in and the engine revs loud, you groan. He revs it again just to fuck with you.

"Can you just fucking drive?" you shrill, "God, who're you trying to fucking impress out here?"

He pulls out of his spot and squeals out of the lot onto the street, immediately seething, "Who am I try'na impress? Me?"

"Alright, heeeere we go," you roll your eyes, street lights catching in your vision -- there and gone and there and gone. It's like they go all the way back to your brain. The lights spin with you.

He presses on the gas when you make it on the highway, speeding dangerously when he gets his hand on the clutch. He swerves between cars, one hand gripping the wheel, the other sits on his thigh. His brows are knitted together in a scowl.

"Don't you pull that 'here we go' shit, you always gotta fucking START somethin'," his free hand slaps down on the center console and the sound makes you jump, "Can't you ever shut the fuck up? Huh?"

You grin, it's the tequila -- it always made you a little excited for a fight, "Ooh, look how mad you are. You don't give a fuck about me right? RIGHT?! So what're you mad for?! What're you mad for?"

"Ooh-hoo-hoo, you piss me the fuck off. See what fuckin' happens if you keep runnin' your mouth," he grumbles, eyes getting dark. He reaches into his leather jacket pocket at a red light, pouring a bump of coke out on the back of his thumb. He snorts it loud because he knows you hate the sound of it.

"If you don't give a fuck then why are you so mad I danced with that guy? You were pretty busy with Jess and Shauna in the back room so why'd you make me leave the club?" you ask, taking the baggie out of his hand. He snatches it back roughly.

"Cause you looked stupid," he says like it's obvious, pressing on the gas again, "Like some dumb easy slut, all fucking over him. And when you look stupid, you make me look stupid. I don't fucking like that, I don't need people to think I keep bitches like that around me. You're so fuckin' sloppy."

"Oh, so lines off a stripper's tits doesn't make you look stupid?" you jeer, "Throwin' ones doesn't make you look stupid?"

He turns to look at you, "You're so dumb. How's throwing ones gonna make me look stupid?"

"You know what? You're right. It doesn't make you look stupid."

He huffs out of his nose, eyes rolling, an angry smirk flashing his teeth in the streetlights. You take a second, smiling at your reflection in the windsheild.

"It makes you look broke."

“Oh, I’m broke? I’m fuckin’ — " he speeds so fast your head hits the headrest, “I’m fucking broke? Who bought the heels you got on? I’m fucking broke?”

“I don’t ask for shit from you, you’re a fucking bum!” you yell back, “You’re such a fucking bum.”

“You want me to get your fuckin’ phone shut off? I’m a bum but I’m paying for your fuckin’ phone?” he yells back, swerving as he peels down the back roads towards Hawkins.

“Oh shut the fuck up, you f—”

“How’re you gonna pay for it, huh? Tips at the fuckin' diner aren't cuttin' it — should I start sellin' those videos you send me?”

Possessed, your hand comes out to smack him hard upside the head while he turns down the street, coming to a stop at a light, “Why do you always gotta say some dumb shit?”

You shove him, hands coming at him to to it again but he grabs your wrist in a bruising grip, "You think that's smart? What happened the last time you put your hands on me, huh?"

He shakes you by the wrist, eyes flashing erratically, "Huh?!"

"Want me to break your wrist again?" he challenges, fingers wrapping tighter, cutting off the circulation to your hand.

You get quiet, still fuming, but his hold on your wrist is starting to throb. You shake your head 'no'.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he huffs, shoving your arm back at you while the light turns, "So shut the fuck up."

You both stay silent after the threat, he slows down when he gets into Hawkins, leaning back in his seat and chewing at a hang nail on his thumb. The steady thrum of the music in his car and the liquor in your body take over and before you know it, the liquor wins. Eye drifting closed with every streetlight you pass.

Your eyes open with a start, stomach lurching while you fumble for the door handle in the car. You heave out of the crack in the door, murky hot liquid pouring out of you with each wretch. You take a deep breath through your nose when you're done and rub your eyes. It was still dark out, the lights in Eddie's trailer were on.

You reach for your phone in your purse by your feet, eyes bleary when you click it on to see your lock screen.

4:37 AM

You groan -- you were dragged out of left the club at 2, there's no way it took almost three hours to get home. It was only 45 minutes away.

So he just fucking left me in here?

You get out of the car, slamming the door so hard that you were disappointed it didn't shatter the window. You take off your heels on the stairs to the door of his trailer, feet hitting the wet grass -- it centers you for a moment. The chill in the air hits you and you shiver -- you're dehydrated and tired, but puking knocks your hangover right out of you. Maybe you could get him to just drive you home so you could get some sleep before your shift at 3.

The door is unlocked which is unusual but what you walk into isn't. He's making out with the neck of some girl who lives a few trailers down, her hips grinding against the kitchen counter she's propped up on, his ringed hand gripping her bare tits with her tank top pulled under them. He's changed into a pair of black sweatpants, tattoos dark against his pale chest and arms, his other hand teasing her over her pajama shorts. Her breathy moans ring in your ears and you let out a sigh. Of course.

You put your phone, purse, and heels on the kitchen table -- clearing your throat to get their attention. The girls face snaps to attention, red as a tomato when she sees you there with your arms crossed.

"What the--" Eddie starts when she pushes him away from her, hastily covering her chest and pulling up her tank.

"What the fuck? Who is this?!" she shrills, hopping off the counter and reaching for her white puffer coat on the table.

"I don't fucking know Trista, can you calm the fuck down?" he lies through his teeth like he was born to do it.

"You're such a fucking asshole, Ed," she barks, "See if I come here at 4 in the morning anymore. You fucking dick." Trista slips on her knock off Uggs and wrenches open the trailer door, slamming it behind her. You stifle a giggle as he turns to you, eyes angry.

"Look what you did," he huffs, "Always gotta ruin shit for everybody."

"Are you fucking with me right now?" you ask, eyes wide, "You just left me in the fucking car?! Was I supposed to just walk at 4 in the morning?"

"Your phone works, you could've called an Uber and gone the fuck home," he snaps, grabbing a half empty Fiji water bottle from the fridge, "I told Trista she could come over and now you fucked up her whole night."

"Her whole night, or are you mad you didn't get your dick wet?" you tease, "Looks like you're just pissed you didn't get to hit."

He reaches into his sweatpants pocket, opening his phone up to a text, looking at the screen while he speaks to you, "Why did Rick tell me you gave that guy your number?"

"Again," you start, "And I'll speak slowly, since I know how hard it was for you to graduate high school -- Why. The fuck. Do you care?"

"Because he knows you fuck around with me and my friends," he steps to you like you're his prey, "You don't know him, he might be working for someone else."

You step backwards, used to this kind of waltz, doing anything you can to not get trapped between him and a wall. It always ends badly for the wall. Sometimes it ends badly for you.

"He might be trying to get to me or Rick, or anyone else. And since you're always on Instragram posting where the fuck you're at, it'll be pretty easy for him to find us," he warns. Sometimes every sentence he said to you felt like an insult, but that's how you learned to be just as bad.

"Trying to find you? Who are you?" you laugh, dodging when his hand reaches out to grab you, "You swear you're special. You deal drugs in Indiana. You're barely moving big shit here."

"You love to fucking lie, don't you?" he asks, finally catching you roughly by the jaw, "You love just saying shit. You're always tryin' to piss me off."

"Don't fucking touch me," you hiss, smacking his hand away from you. He catches you again by the wrist and in the light you can see the bruises starting to surface from when he grabbed you in the car. You yelp again when he closes his tattooed fingers around you, re-awakening the pain.

"What did I say in the car? About you putting your hands on me?" he pulls you towards him so you're chest to chest, peering down at you with bloodshot eyes.

You're able to pull out of this grip, shoving past him to get your stuff off the table, clicking your phone on again, "Well he didn't even text me so, I don't know what you're so mad about."

"I know he didn't 'cause Rick and the guys made him delete all your shit from his phone," he says, leaning against the counter.

"Seriously?" you huff, turning back around, heels in hand, "What's fucking wrong with you? You're always doing this shit. I can't fuck around with any of the guys I know, I can't fuck around with guys I meet anywhere else -- you don't want me, so why don't I get to do anything?"

"What was his name?" Ed asks, crossing his arms, "The guy you gave your number to. What was his name? If you can tell me, we'll go find him and I'll let you put your number back in his phone. Fuck it, I'll put your number back in his phone." You click your tongue, crossing your arms with an eye roll, "Fuck off, Ed."

"Exactly," he responds, "You just wanted to act like a slut at the club. Don't even care who it is as long as you're gettin' some attention."

"Okay?" you shrug, "And how're you better? You were about to be balls deep in Trista for what?"

"Cause I wanted to fuck. Are you serious?" he laughs.

"You don't even know her last name."

"Oh I don't? Trista Katradowski? 24 years old in her last year of nursing school? Moved here in 2011 with her mama and little brother Trey? Daddy's in jail in Jacksonville?" he takes a careful step closer to you with every word until he's caging you in against the table, leaning in close enough that you can smell the liquor on his breath, his skin mixed with his cologne, "What is it? You jealous?"

His lips linger over yours for a moment, noses brushing, his bangs graze your eyebrows, "Wouldn't've let her come over if you didn't pass out."

"You shouldn't of just left me in the car," you mumble, avoiding eye contact with him. If you look at him you'll let him fuck you, and you're stronger than that now, "Someone coulda--"

"Coulda what? Broken into the Camaro?" he asks, letting his hand find your waist, "I think everyone over here knows better than to mess around with my stuff, right?"

He waits a moment to continue, voice softening into something gentle. He nuzzles against your cheek, "C'mon, did you really think I'd let someone hurt you? Have I ever?"

"Stop," you whine. It's hard when he starts to talk sweet to you. He's like a magnet. He smiles so pretty, he has such a way of making it feel like you're the only person he's like this with. You duck out under his hold and walk to the bathroom, rinsing your mouth out with whatever mouthwash he had left over in the medicine cabinet.

"C'mon," he whispers softly, lips dragging over your shoulder. He presses his hips against you, pinning you between him and the sink, "Stop acting like you don't want it. Lemme make you feel good." "I'm about to take a shower," you mumble, shaking him off -- like you weren't both just screaming at eachother. He looks at you in the mirror, brows knitting together, his jaw clenches.

"I need to shower, too," he murmurs, kissing your ear, "Don't make me waste all that extra hot water."

"You're not showering with me," your voice raises slightly, trying to ignore how good his lips feel when they ghost over the back of your neck. His hands find the hem of your dress, the stretchy fabric smoothing over your hips while he starts to take it off. "Don't be like that. Not after you made Trista leave. S'not fair," he says. His fingertips trail over the front of your thighs, the outsides of your hips before his big hands smooth over your waist and tummy. He pushes the dress further up over the swell of your breasts, bra tight over them. You let him take your dress off for you, sighing when he does.

The soft glow of the early morning starts to peak through the window, that dark blue to light blue to orange. His lips are pillowy, pressing against your shoulder again while his hands roam your chest over the cup of your bra. He bought it for you.

"C'mon, bend over," he urges again, you can feel how hard he is against your thigh. And fuck, you want to. You want him to make you feel good, he's the only one who knows how -- he made sure of that. You want to but you shouldn't, you don't need to. He's so bad for you. You're bad for each other. It always goes like this. He'll fuck you and treat you sweet after you fight for a few days or weeks, and then he'll forget you exist for however long until he wants it again. Not you. Whatever 'it' is you have with each other. This give and take, push and pull. Never close enough but definitely close enough. It hurts worse every time.

"I'm not doing this with you again," you shove him off and he sighs an angry sigh before pulling off his sweatpants and opening the glass door behind him. You hear the water turn on and groan.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you ask, "I just told you I was--"

"Don't you got a shower at home?" he asks, "Bye."

"You're fucking annoying," you growl, slamming on the frosted glass.

"You can get in with me, or you can leave," he says, "I don't give a fuck what you do."

You know he really doesn't.

You slip off your bra and underwear, angry at the throbbing between your legs winning over your brain for the millionth time. You open the door, spice scented steam hitting your face and seeing his with a soft smile on it.

"C'mere," he mumbles, pulling you forward against his soapy skin. Why did he have to smell so good? Look so good?

"We're not fucking," you declare, standing in the spray of the water. He nods still covered in lather, finger reaching out to brush over the fingertip shaped bruises on your bicep from when he pulled you over to the car earlier. He tuts to himself, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, baby," he says softly, letting his hand fall back to your waist. Your heart hammers at the word, even more so when he pulls you in close against him. He hums low in his chest when you lean your cheek on his tattooed chest, hand coming up to smooth your hair off your face.

"You only call me that when you want something," you murmur, eyes closing while his fingers trail down your back with the water. You're the only person he calls 'baby' like that, and even then it's far and few between. It's his secret weapon, his silver tongued magic spell -- you get so pliant, so dizzy. So wanted. So claimed.

"You're already givin' me what I want," he says softly, "Look how sweet you get f'me. You get so nice."

His fingers slide between the two of you, you're half expecting him to take care of his hard on but instead he slips his first and second finger between your legs. You sigh into the feeling, reaching for his shoulder. He looks down at you with a merciless grin.

"Such a dirty girl, aren't you?" he teases, voice sliding down from soft to salaicious.

"Yeah," you breathe out, face melting while he keeps a perfect pace on your clit.

He mocklingly matches your expression, voice lilting, "Yeah? That feel good?"

"Yeah, it feels good," you whine back through gritted teeth, already close from how he teases you. Your thighs shake around his wrist when the pleasure starts to build in waves in your lower belly. "You want me to use my tongue? Taste you?" he asks, a little hitch in your breath answers for him. He likes asking you so plainly 'cause that little blush you get drives him insane. He smiles dipping down to your neck, tongue striping up to catch the water dripping down it onto your collar bone, "Yeah? You want me to lick it?"

"Please," you beg, eyes rolling when his other hand slides between your legs from behind, massaging over your entrance. So fucking wet, he mumbles to himself. He takes his hands away, kissing slowly down your front while turning you over. He doesn't have to ask you to bend forward, your body does it on instinct -- pressing your face up against the tile wall, holding onto the inlet soap dish for some support. He bites the back of your thigh when he gets to his knees, hard enough for you to hiss. He groans when you do, taking a wet hand and smacking your ass hard before gripping both cheeks in his hands. You feel him push them apart, thumbs separating your lips with a slick click, tongue laving over your exposed pussy.

"Ohmigod," you gasp, "Oh that's--Oh fuck." "Mmm, yeah?" he moans into you, eyes closing when he pushes himself deeper against you, forehead pressed against your ass. You can hear the flick of his tongue against your folds, gliding through wetness. Your eyes close, legs starting to quake as he creeps further forward.

"Open up, princess," he murmurs against your thigh, "Gonna cum on my tongue, huh?"

You open your legs but he doesn't go to your clit like you expected, he stays slipping over your folds and back down to your opening, wet muscles fighting each other before easing in one finger. You let out a shaky breath as he breaches your walls, hips bouncing back against the digit. You don't see it, but he smirks at how easy it was to get you like this. He tongue ventures further back, letting his other hand spread one of your ass cheeks where he stripes over your tight hole. He grins at the sound you make, he knows how dirty it makes you feel to like when he does that. But you get so wet when he works his tongue there, getting you nice and relaxed while your cunt pulses around his finger.

"You like that?" he asks, teeth grazing the fat there. Your hips pushing back against his mouth answers enough, your hand reaching back to rake against his wet curls. He obliges happily, a second finger slipping between your legs while your moans mix with the thrum of the water hitting the shower floor.

"Turn around," he suggests, guiding your hips so your back is against the wall. He puts a leg over his shoulder to get better access to you, mouth latching to your clit the moment he can reach it. He looks up at you, brown eyes eager for you to come undone -- but he's not looking at you lovingly. He's challenging you, and himself, to see how fast he can get you to do it. You start to shake when his tongue flutters at the same time his fingers curl to press against your g-spot.

"Fuck, fuck, Ed -- m'comingm'comingm'coming --" you moan out, little squeals coming out of you while he eats you through it, taking his fingers out and collecting your cum in his mouth. He stands up quickly, pressing you up against the wall with his body, his big ringed hand reaching down to wrap one of your legs around his waist. Eddie eases in slow, watching your eyes roll back when he presses in to the hilt, holding in there for a moment so you really feel him. He takes a shaky breath when he starts to thrust into you, a barely audible ah shit, so tight coming out from the back of his throat.

He presses his forehead against yours, deep breaths puffing against your closed eyes while he pumps slowly into you, "You like feeling me like this? Nice and slow?"

You nod against him, unable to talk with how deep he's hitting. His hand cups your jaw, guiding you to look up at him. Your noses brush but you know he won't kiss you, he never does, he hasn't in a long time.

His thumb traces over your lower lip, pulling it down and then letting it go. His thrusts pick up when you make eye contact, his eyes are dark, locked on yours. Eddie's hand hoists your thigh up against his hip a little higher, using that leverage to get deeper inside you.

"Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good," he huffs, face dropping to your neck. You cry out when he pulls your skin between his teeth, sucking and biting at you, leaving marks that everyone will see at work later. Everyone will know who left them. He makes them impossible to cover up, "Thought about this pretty pussy all night."

The head waitress, Sandra, will ask why you 'keep seein' that boy', Phil in the kitchen will shake his head at you -- asking why you won't go on a date with his son. 'Atleast he's got a respectable job!'

But if it wasn't for Eddie, the diner would still have broken windows from when it was robbed last year. If it wasn't for Eddie -- the diner would probably would have closed entirely.

"Ed, I'm gonna -- oh, like that -- M'gonna cum," you gasp, gripping his shoulder. He doesn’t speed up, he knows better, he keeps the same solid steady pace — a touch rougher than before.

“Look at me when you cum,” he mutters, “Wanna watch you.”

“Eddie please,” you whine, eyes shining when they meet his. He holds your head in place by your jaw, leering over you while you babble, “OhmyfuckingGod, ohmygod Eddie — Ed, oh —“

“That’s it, say my name,” he grunts, breaking into a smile, "Gettin' me close, talkin' like that." He feels you pulse and gush hard around him, thumb getting back to your lips where you take it into your mouth obediently -- leaving him to chase his own orgasm. Every whimper out of your mouth makes his cock twitch 'cause he knows he's got you feeling good. Every clench around him is another orgasm won -- he wanted to wear you out, watch you need to hold on to him to get out of the shower. Make you immediately text your friends about how you let him fuck you again but it was 'sooo good' so it's fine.

White heat hits his belly and he pulls out, pumping himself a few times before spurts of cum paint your tummy and thighs.

"Shit, shit -- fuck, baby, that -- shiiit that's so good," he breathes out. He leans against the wall opposite down while he comes down, reaching for his shampoo, continuing to shower like he didn't just blow your mind.

You shake a little while you open the shower door to get a fresh wash cloth from under the sink, sighing when the hot water hits you again. You lather up with his soap, you'll smell like him all day now -- it's like he plans it. Like he does it on purpose.

You don't speak for the rest of the shower, just in bodies. You both stood there in the water for a little after you were both done washing your hair. Hands traveling, lips gliding, but never against eachother's. You know better than to ask if you can just sleep here.

He grabs you a towel and watches you dry off, remnants of him scattered on your skin in shades of lilac and magenta, faded yellows and taupes. You wince when you run your fingers over the hickeys he left you, examining them in the mirror. He leaves you to get dressed alone, walking into his room to tug on a pair of jeans, slipping on an old t-shirt and a black hoodie to slip his leather jacket over.

You both appear in the hallway at the same time, back in your dress from the club with your heels in your hand.

"Don't wear those heels out anymore," he says, eyes lingering on the stilletto point of the heel.

"You bought them for me," you say, looking at the ground.

"Okay, and?" he responds, grabbing his keys when you both walk into the kitchen. You grab your purse and your phone, seeing a couple of notifications but he puts his hand to your cheek before you can read them.

"Hey," he says, "Look'it me."

You look up at him, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he speaks.

"You gonna wear them out again?" he asks softly.

"No," you respond, still spacey from your orgasms, "I can throw them out."

"Don't do that, baby," he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek near your ear, "They can be just for me."

Everything always is anyway.

He yawns at a red light on the ride back to your apartment, driving much slower and level headed now. The sun was starting to rise over Hawkins, pink and soft -- cotton candy skies after a bitter pill night. You ached between your legs, your wrist throbbed, but your heart was swollen with the sound of him saying 'Baby, baby, baby,' over and over again.

"You want a coffee?" he asks softly, pulling into a drive thru.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you answer.

"Whad'dyou want?"

"Just a small hot coffee with milk," you mumble.

"You gotta speak up," he says, tapping his head back on the head rest while he rolls up to the speaker.

"Just a small hot coffee with milk and sugar," you say a little louder. He leans forward to order, getting himself a black coffee. He pulls around and his free hand finds your thigh while you wait. The touch makes you hold your breath, he squeezes and then soothes, the rings feeling colder from the lack of heat in the car. He passes you your coffee and then puts his in the cup holder.

"Just Venmo me three bucks," he says, pulling out from the window and back onto the road.

"Pfft," you huff. Three fucking dollars? You reach into your purse and take out a folded up five and put it on the center console.

"Keep the change," you spit out.

"You wanna get out and walk?" he asks, shoulders tensing.

"You couldn't cover a three dollar coffee?" you ask back, eyes narrowing. His head turns to you, knowing the streets so well he barely has to look at them.

"Thought I was broke? Isn't that what you said?" he smirks when your jaw clenches. He grabs the fiver and tucks it into his pocket, turning up the stereo -- part way through Metallica's 'For Whom The Bell Tolls'. You put your phone in the cup holder while you drink your coffee, a fatigue headache building behind your eyes with every tree you pass.

"Tired?" he asks. You just nod, forehead pressing against the cool window.

"Me too," he mutters, followed by another big yawn. The Camaro turns down your street, stopping in front of the two-family home you live on the second floor of. A small one bedroom, but by the grace of God you made enough at the diner to pay for it. Your mom still lived in your childhood home on the other side of town with your little brother. A small one family with dirt cheap rent that she still couldn’t afford since your dad died three years ago. Eddie paid your mama’s rent, too.

Your daddy was the manager at the auto shop and your mama cut hair out of your kitchen -- still does. Eddie started working with your dad when he got out of high school and treated him like a son. He’d always talk about how it was great practice for when your brother got older since he was such a handful. Outside of Eddie’s uncle, your parents were some of the few adults to really care for him. They were able to see him for his talents instead of his setbacks. They never even judged him for selling drugs (‘You gotta do what you gotta do,’ they’d say, ‘He was dealt a rough hand, he’s just making the most of what he does best.'). He’d spend a lot of time at your house, come to family game nights when Wayne was at the plant. Your dad would do all the older father and son stuff he couldn’t do with your brother yet. They’d invite his uncle, too.

But when your daddy died of a heart attack, your family didn't really know what to do. Things had always been 'almost comfortable' with finances, some months going better than others. Money went from almost comfortable to 'What're we gonna do?' very quickly. Eddie had taken care of the funeral costs, now at a level with Rick that he was moving bricks out of state. He was bordering on being a main supplier for parts of Michigan and Ohio, every cop on the way paid off with women and pills. Every cop paid off with money and a threat.

Once he was able to get Wayne set up with his own place and Eddie took over the trailer, he started paying for your mom. At first he did it anonymously, he didn't want your mom to feel like he didn't think she could do it on her own -- it's just that she shouldn't have to. Eddie felt like he owed it to your family, especially your little brother, to take care of the people who took care of him. In fact, sometimes it seemed like Eddie was a bigger pillar in your family than you were. In the whole town really. He'd sort of become the Robin Hood of Hawkins in his own way, always showing up for people who needed it more -- whether it was legal or not. Down to helping the owner at the corner store after it got robbed and he was beat up.

The cops never found the guy who did it, but Eddie had. The new cross tattoo on his knuckles three days later was an easy tell. A new cross for every body he'd caught.

Eddie turned the car off when he pulled up in front of the house and you tossed him a look, "You coming up?"

"I'm tired," he repeated, "Lemme come lay with you."

"Ed..." you started, but he was already getting out of the car. He was doing it again, building you up, up, up, just to toss you when he was bored. A pattern he loved to sew, the one you could never break -- because when he picked you it felt so good. He finally fucking chose you. You were important for at least a day, a few hours, thirty minutes. But when he was done...that's what you were trying to avoid. The ache. The wondering what you did wrong. The arguments later. You follow him out and he opens your door with the spare keys he has to your apartment. Sometimes a little terrifying to know you might not always be totally alone.

"You coming?" he asks while you answer a text at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, one sec," you whisper, waving him off. You hear him open your front door and kick off his combat boots, the slink of his leather jacket coming off and being tossed on your small kitchen table. He walks heavy through the place like he owns it and you wince, hoping it doesn't wake up your downstairs neighbors.

You meet him up there with a scowl, "There's people sleeping downstairs, you know."

He rolls his eyes at you, walking to your bedroom and pulling off his hoodie, curls in a puffed mess when the fabric slide over them. He takes off his torn up Corroded Coffin shirt (though they haven't played a gig in months) and tosses it on your dresser. His jeans follow and you come in while the denim is pooling by his knees. He ignores you, climbing into your bed in his boxers while you close the blinds in your bedroom to block out the creeping morning sun. Your phone buzzes and it reminds you of the time when a text notification pops up. 6:15 AM. You set an alarm for 1 PM, at least you'd have a little time for yourself before your closing shift. You change into a big t-shirt and slide into bed next to Eddie, putting your phone on your makeshift side table face down.

He can't keep his hands off you, it feels like heaven. Nothing compared to this, not the shoes or the phone bill, not when he'd get your mom a new hair dryer or your brother a new gaming console. Not when he'd get you gifts -- because the gifts always came with a price. You always had to work hard for them. The bruises always had to fade first. They always came with your apology.

But when he touches you like this, soft and deliberate -- it's because he wants to. He wants you. You think it makes him feel safe.

"When're you waking up?" he asks, nuzzling into your neck, pulling your hips over his.

"One," you reply. He nods, a soft 'okay' coming out of his mouth when you feel his teeth and tongue graze your jugular.

"Ed," you huff, "I gotta sleep."

"You sure?" he grins, hand coming up to hold your cheek, "I can put you to bed baby, I promise."

You look at him with rounded eyes, pleading for him to just let you rest but you know you'll give in and so does he.

"I'll be quick," he mumbles, face getting closer to yours. Your noses brush, eyes bursting open and fluttering closed again when you feel his soft full lips press against yours. This is how he always wins. Giving you just enough to skate by, but taking all you have to give him.

His tongue takes no time to push past your lips, kissing you deep and slow while he climbs on top of you. If you didn't know him, you'd swear he was in love by the way he carefully presses your thighs up against your chest, the way his fingers wrap in your hair, the grunt he lets out when he pushes into you. Quiet and confident, he slams into you, covering your mouth as to not wake the neighbors. And it did put you to bed -- you were both completely worn out when he was done, so much so that he didn't move out of your sleepy hold over his chest.

He heard you click off your alarm when you woke up, going back to sleep when you started the shower. Eleven minutes later it went off again and the fuse in his chest was lit. He lifted his head up with half asleep eyes, brows furrowed and angry. Why didn't you know how to turn off a fucking alarm?

"Fucking Christ," he mumbles, flipping your phone over and hitting 'stop' instead of 'snooze', his eyes linger on your home screen for a moment. He puts the phone down and crawls out of bed, the shower in the bathroom coming to a stop. He gets dressed again: jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, socks. He checks his own phone, still hanging out in his pants pocket. Three of the girls he met last night left multiple texts earlier this morning. He couldn't remember their names if he tried. Jess and Shauna sent 'thank yous' for the tips, telling him that two of the new girls want to meet him so they can buy -- followed by multiple snowflake emojis. A missed call from Rick, but no follow up message which meant the call wasn't important.

You pad into the room, hair wet and back in your pajamas, while he scrolls through his notifications.

"I gotta go," he says, not looking at you, "Heading to Rick's for something."

"Okay," you nod, pulling your dress and apron out for the diner -- they liked the old school style there. The owner never really got out of the 60s. He steps out and pulls on his jacket in the kitchen, following him to pass him his watch. He puts it back on without saying thank you.

You reach out to hug him goodbye and he placates you with a one armed squeeze, texting someone back when he does. When you lean in to kiss him goodbye, he leans back -- looking at you quizically.

"Hey, no," he says, shaking his head with a little laugh, "C'mon, you knew what this was."

"Oh," you whisper, heart shattering, the familiar sting of his rejection sweeping over you in icy waves, "Yeah, sorry."

"I'll talk to you later," he says, shimmying out of your hug. You hear him leave, the Camaro revving loud before he pulled onto the street, the hum of his music muffled from behind the windows. You swallow the tears building in your chest and nose. How could you have been so stupid? Of course it didn't mean anything.

Eddie pulls into a McDonald's drive-thru to get lunch, cigarette held loosely between his lips while he lights it. He rubs his eyes in the parking lot, the icy white of the sky was blinding. He leans back in his seat, scrolling through his recent calls to call Gareth.

"You better be fucking awake, man," he mutters to himself.

"'Sup," Gareth's voice flows through the speakers of the Camaro, "You good?"

"Where's your roommate been the last couple weeks? Who's he been hangin' out with?" Eddie asks with edge.

"I don't know, man. His friends? We don't talk," Gare responds, "Why?"

"Find out and get back to me," he says, "Before I gotta find out myself."

"Yeah, that's fine. You sure you're good? You sound pissed."

"I'm not pissed," Eddie says, he was pissed, "Just find out where he's been and who he's talking to."

He hangs up, seeing a message from you -- something along the lines of: sorry for thinking too far into it again, have a good day. He takes a deep breath, igorning your message, and puts his music back on, eating in silence while he watches a show on his phone. He didn't really have to go to Rick's, there was a bigger reason he had to leave your apartment.

He had to find out why the fuck Steve Harrington been texting you since five o'clock this morning.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie. 

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie. 

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed. 

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera. 

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass. 

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me. 

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then. 

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of. 

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course. 

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes. 

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez. 

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal. 

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?” 

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know? 

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here. 

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.   

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

[rory-multifandom-mess]

Can you please do something with NUzi for the writing prompt thing? I don't care which one, my only request is some good fluff!

Oh, my turn to decide! Okay! Uuuh, let’s go wiiith…

18. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” and 21. “I’m better when I’m with you.”

Genre: Fluff

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It had been at least a year since the end of everything. Uzi was learning how to deal with Solver basically being the voice in her head, and N was learning how to fit into the drone colony.

But right now, none of that mattered. N got to hang out with his girlfriend. That’s all he cared about.

The two were walking about outside the bunker, walking up and down the streets of the abandoned city. Ever since the planet had been taken apart and then put back together, it was like all of the radiation dispersed into space, causing their usual eternal winter to come to an end, and giving them seasons back.

A while ago, many worker drones had gone out of their way to plant some trees, though it was mostly the adult worker drones, having missed the look of them before the core collapsed. Even Miss Dorman helped, despite never seeing them either.

The radiation still stuck in the soil had enhanced how quickly the trees grew somehow — though N nor Uzi were going to question it.

Now, it was fall. The ground was covered in dried leaves, and the trees were beautiful shades of orange and red and brown. N loved it. It reminded him of his time at the mansion.

When he’d seen all of the crunchy leaves on the ground, he rushed inside the bunker as fast as he could, flying down the corridors excitedly and dodging around Worker Drones, probably scaring them out of their casings.

His wings disappeared in front of her hab, causing him to crash inches away, though he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran back to it, opening the door.

“Uzi!” He yelled excitedly into the room.

Khan, who had been sitting at the dinner table with Nori on his head, jumped, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Oh my robo-god!” He exclaimed.

“Oops! Sorry, Mister and Misses Doorman!”

“N? What’re you doing here?” Uzi asked, exiting her room.

N grinned seeing her, rushing forward and grabbing her by the wrist, rushing back out of the hab.

“I’m gonna borrow Uzi for a bit! Okaybyeee!” He called into the hab as Uzi yelped behind him.

“N!-“ Uzi exclaimed, “What are you so excited about?”

“Outside! The leaves! It’s autumn, Uzi! It’s autumn!” He exclaimed.

“Oh! In that case— Race ya!” Uzi said as her purple and yellow wings sprouted from her back, forcing her forward and in front of N.

N laughed. “Oh you’re so on!” He said competitively, using the boosts in his wings to send him forward. He heard Uzi exclaim some kind of profanity behind him.

Eventually he made it to the front bunker doors again, accidentally slamming into it.

Uzi landed behind him as he peeled off of it, landing on his back on the floor.

She crossed her arms and leaned forward, above his face.

“You won, but at what cost?”

“The cost of my schnose….” N whined.

Uzi giggled and walked over to the controls to press the button which opened the door.

A gust of wind blasted through the doors as N stood up, autumn leaves being blown in from the outside.

Uzi’s eyebrows raised, amazed by the beauty of the leaves. She slowly stepped out, looking around at all of the colors.

N grinned and followed her out, standing beside her with his hands on his hip.

“Amazing, right?” N said proudly.

“I’ve never seen anything so pretty before,” Uzi admitted blankly.

“Wanna go play in it?”

“YES!” Uzi immediately ran forward, belly flopping into a pile of them.

N yelped, then laughed.

“Where did you go? You disappeared!” N said through his laughter.

Uzi popped her head up from the pile, her sunset eyes reflecting back at him.

“Here!” She said through her giggles. Leaves poked out of her beanie and her hair, her hair dirty and messy now.

N’s core fluttered at the sight. She was so cute and pretty… Time and time again, he’d be reminded of how he would do anything for her.

Uzi dove into another pile of leaves, disappearing beneath them.

“Let me join in!” N said excitedly, leaping in after her.

Uzi yelped and scrambled out of the pile before he landed, laughing.

“You fool! You’ve fallen for my trap!” Uzi announced, jumping on him with her signature cackle.

“Aaah! Nooo!” N cried playfully, giggling as she landed on top of them.

They began to grapple, laughing as they wrestled in the leaves, both of them getting covered in crushed leaves and sticks.

After a while, Uzi ended up sitting on his chest, holding his arms beside his head as their giggles slowly calmed down.

They stared into each other’s eyes, the stars glistening above them. The moon perfectly aligned behind Uzi’s head, giving her a halo of light.

N admired her. She was adorable and goofy and weird and fantastic. Others in her school would call her cringe, but to him— she was anything but. She was wonderful. She was everything. She was perfect.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” N said, his voice soft and whimsical.

Uzi’s eyebrows raised, blush spreading across her face. She put her hand on his face and looked away bashfully.

“Shut up,” She mumbled.

N chuckled, gently taking her wrist and pulling it away. “I mean it! You’re so amazing and pretty. It’s impossible to put into words how much I love you.”

“Oh my god N stop!!!” Uzi bapped his face, her blush becoming stronger.

“But it’s true!” N said, putting his hands under her armpits and picking her up. He sat up, placing her in his lap, then cupped her face in his hands.

“You’re my whole world, Uzi. I’m… I’m better when I’m with you.”

Uzi paused for a moment, staring into her eyes.

“Nah, N. You’re better no matter what. And, um… I love you too, dork.” Uzi glanced away, furrowing her brows.

N grinned, then kissed her cheek.

Uzi couldn’t help but smile.

“…Now back to wrestling!” N said excitedly, shoving Uzi down.

Uzi yelped, then giggled. “No fair!”

They giggled and laughed along, wrestling and running around in the fall leaves, jumping into piles and throwing them at each other until sunrise, nothing but joy and whimsy coursing through the both of them.

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SO SORRY THIS TOOK 80 BILLION YEARS... Also the setting is based off of a little idea had. Solver must be so mad it accidentally restored the planet lmaoooo. ANYWAY HOPE U ENJOY!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Prompt Post! Lizzy x Doll; "Stay with me forever"/"Because I love you!" N x V; "I thought you didn't want me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" V x Thad; "I'm in love with you" V x Thad "I missed you so much"/"I can't stay away from you" N x Thad; "Can I kiss you?" N x Thad; "I want you. Only you." V x Thad; "I thought you didn't want me." Sam x Uzi; "The way I feel with you"/"I can't stay away from you." Uzi x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'll always love you" N x Thad; "Please marry me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" N x Uzi; "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"/"I'm better when I'm with you" <- You are here! J x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'm better when I'm with you."

[andreas-river]

hey ohmygod you write for nikto!! can you do angst prompt #21 for him (maybe with a civilian reader)? i adore your work, can’t wait to see what you’re going to be writing next ♥️

Prompt: 21. "don't try to fix me, I'm not broken." with Nikto.

A/N: thanks for your words Anon, I really appreciate this! Hope you're going to like this one!

TW: angst, mentin of financial problems, hurt/comfort, Nikto is a human after all and no one can change my mind.

Want to make a request with other prompts?

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This routine was new in so many ways—for both of you.

Nikto, the one you fell in love with, the one who would come back after the deployment, was everything you were looking for and more.

Nikto, the same man who was now digging holes in your soul with his eyes, the air around you tense. It became harder to breathe as you searched for the right words to say: you only remember saying something about a place that would help him feel better and relax, but it was like accidentally pushing a glass off the edge of a table, the crashing sound deafening your ears.

"It'll be like a vacation, but…" you try to explain again, only to get a sneer from him.

"A vacation?" he mocks your words, but you try your best to ignore the tone of his voice as you see his knuckles turn pale white. "I don't need it."

You are taken aback by his reaction, too speechless to reply. But he continues.

"I don't need it," he repeats again, "I don't want it. Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken. No, we're not."

You feel yourself breaking down at his words, too petrified to even take a step in his direction. Realizing that he was the one moving, leaving the room you were both in, you instinctively try to reach out and grab his arm, but he moves too quickly for your untrained eyes, grabbing your wrist and blocking any kind of physical contact from you.

His eyes widen for a second, but you don't even notice it through your watery eyes, only seeing his blurry form as he leaves the house, leaving you alone with your own tears.

Your legs give out as you drag yourself to the couch, salty tears running down your cheeks as you cry your heart out—was it so wrong to want to spend some time outside with a person you loved?

No, it wasn't, and you knew it. But also that Nikto was scattered with pieces of himself, sharp edges that could cut you every time you tried to get closer to him, felt like a deal with the devil—but devil was only everything that happened to him in his life.

You knew you couldn't bear it any longer, so you put on your shoes and left the house as well, the rain greeting you outside with the cold air. The car you both shared was still parked in front of you, so you covered yourself with the hood of your sweatshirt, hoping to find him soon—he couldn't be that far away, right?

You couldn't have been more wrong.

Your clothes are soaked now, as tears mix with the rain, and surrounded by the light of street lamps, you feel lost for the first time in so long. The last time was just before you met him, thanks to a mutual friend—Nikodim, or as they call him on duty, Rodion—and it all started from that rainy night, when you almost lost everything, and now history was repeating itself.

You cried harder as the downpour grew louder, crushing against the asphalt as you shivered in your clothes that clung uncomfortably to your skin. You started to walk back to your house, thinking about taking the car instead: at least you would be able to cover more distance.

You let the rain soak you, your steps heavy as you felt a weight on your shoulders, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying when you remembered the only time you cried in front of him—but they were tears of joy when you got your first check from the job you wanted so badly, when you finally were financially stable enough to pay the rent and buy food without worrying about not having enough money.

Once you are in the hallway, you sprint to the door with the intention of changing before jumping in the car, your teeth chattering from the cold air as you shiver and try to untie your shoelaces, muttering a string of curses when you realize they are too tangled.

A cry leaves your lips again, the desperation getting the better of you, powerless as you fall back to the floor, your eyes too unfocused to see clearly that someone is kneeling in front of you, until something soft touches your face, drying your skin. You finally manage to see him, your heart jumping in your throat as you recognize the familiar blue eyes, a little more bloodshot than usual—was he crying, too?

You reach for him, and even as water drops gather around you, he opens his arms, sobbing against his chest, feeling the dampness of his clothes—or maybe you were the one soaking him.

Too exhausted to do or say anything, you grab a handful of his sweatshirt as he picks you up from the floor, carries you to the bathroom, and removes your clothes. Neither of you say a word as you let him change you and dry your bare skin, still shivering uncontrollably from being out in the cold in the rain for so long.

It takes him a few minutes to dry you completely when your tears finally stop and you can clearly see the man in front of you. He has a frown in his eyes, the rest of his face is covered by a plain balaclava, the black paint he used to wear is now gone, revealing the natural color of his skin.

Even with one hand on his sweatshirt, he managed to put on at least a large size shirt and a clean pair of panties without breaking the physical contact, dragging you into the bedroom as he turned off all the lights, the storms still raging outside being the only thing you could hear.

Nikto seems to understand, because he lies on his side, holding your body as you drift off to sleep. It took him some time to fall asleep, his own actions and words weighing on him more than he could have expected. He had to walk away the moment he saw the fear in your eyes when he grabbed your wrist and when his own words broke your heart, seeing it clearly through your eyes.

He was aware that the storm would eventually pass, that tomorrow you would let him sit in front of you and talk to you, holding your heart in your hands as you healed his own without even realizing it. For now, he would accept your steady breathing as a lullaby, and eventually fall asleep holding you in his arms.

And tomorrow, he will ask you about the place you wanted to take him to, so he can see you smile.

[supermanshield]

Superbat and the Kryptonite Ring: A Reading List

The quick guide, if you just want to jump right in:

Superman (1987) #2

Optional: Action comics annual #1, Adventures of Superman #466, Action Comics #653. These lead up to Dark Knight over Metropolis.

Dark Knight over Metropolis: Superman (1987) #44, Adventures of Superman #467, Action Comics #654

Superman: The Man of Steel #21

Superman (1987) #126 (+ Action Comics #737)

Superman: Lex 2000 (one-shot)

Superman (1987) #168

Detective Comics #756

Batman #612

Optional: Superman/Batman #6, #12, #44-#49, Justice League (2011) #19-20, Batman/Superman (2019) Annual #1

When I think of Superbat, I think of trust. And when I think of superbat and trust I think of this:

panels from Action Comics #654

(and other things, but that's beside the point for this post). Superman trusts Batman with his life, and the decision to stop him if he ever needs to. But Batman also trusts Superman to make the right choice, giving the ring to him first. Even though at this point in post-crisis continuity they're not really friends - they know each other and their secret IDs, they've hung out a couple of times, but that's about it - Bruce doesn't make this choice himself and keeps anything from Clark, but gives the choice to Clark. This is not (yet) the paranoid Batman that keeps things like this from Clark.

So, where does this symbol of their friendship and trust come from, you ask? What happened to and with the ring throughout the years of post-crisis canon? Let's get into it under the cut.

The origin

Superman (1987) #2 (beware the Byrne-era Superman)

(Optional: Action comics annual #1, Adventures of Superman #466, Action Comics #653)

Dark Knight over Metropolis: Superman (1987) #44, Adventures of Superman #467, Action Comics #654

The kryptonite ring first makes its appearance in post-crisis continuity when Lex Luthor fashions a ring from a sliver of kryptonite that came from Metallo. However, its radiation causes him to get cancer and subsequently lose his hand. He keeps the ring in a safe after that. It eventually gets stolen by Amanda McCoy, who has found out that Clark is Superman, and goes to confront him with it. She panics and flees, leaving Clark behind, and she gets mugged and killed. The ring makes its way to the streets of Gotham, where it ends up in Batman's hands.

Dark Knight over Metropolis tells the story of Batman investigating the ring and its previous owner and her death. In the end and after saving each other multiple times, Bruce tells Clark about the ring he found and gives it to him. Eventually Clark shows up at the cave to give it to Bruce, the only man he can trust with his life.

Lost... and retrieved

Superman (1987) #126 (+ optional Action Comics #737)

Superman: Lex 2000

Superman (1987) #168 and Detective Comics #756

In Superman #126, Lex claims he needs the ring when he's on trial. Clark goes to batcave to pick it up himself and hands it over for tests, after which he gets it back, because he believes in fair trial. However, when Clark gets the ring back it's been replaced by a fake (something he doesn't notice because in his Superman blue era he was not susceptible to kryptonite). Luthor has the real one again, right before he becomes president.

panels from Superman (1987) #126

In the Superman: Lex 2000 one-shot, one of the stories shows Batman breaking into Lexcorp to threaten Lex to give back the ring, but this backfires.

panels from Superman: Lex 2000

In Superman #168, Lois then finally decides to take matters into her own hands and asks Batman for help stealing the ring back from Luthor, because Clark won't tresspass into the White House to steal it.

panels from Superman #168

This very chaotic but fun story is continued in Detective Comics #756. In the end, the ring is back with Clark, Lois, and Bruce. Though we never actually see who of them gets to keep it, I'm going to assume it's Bruce, because he has it in Batman: Hush, which takes place some years after this story.

Could Bruce use it? And Batman's paranoia

Superman: The Man of Steel #21

Batman #612

Superman/Batman: the Search for Kryptonite (#44-49) (specifically #49)

Justice League (2011) #19-20

Clark trusts Bruce enough to give him the means to stop him if he ever needs to, but could Bruce actually go through with it if he had to? Now, there are other contingencies that he has for a rogue Superman, as shown in Tower of Babel, but green K is the most direct one.

In 1993's Superman: The Man of Steel #21, set after Superman's death, there is a page that shows Bruce brooding in front of the case where he keeps the ring and contemplates if he could have used it. He sounds doubtful and above all reluctant when he says he would have had to, though ultimately it wouldn't have mattered anymore since Clark was dead at the time.

panels from Superman: The Man of Steel #21

This is much different from the Batman we see in Hush, where he keeps the ring on himself instead of in a case, and uses it without any doubt. In Batman #612, part of the Hush storyline, when Clark is under Poison Ivy's control, he uses it freely on Clark, enough to subdue him and snap him out of Ivy's control, but no more than that.

Of course, Batman doesn't kill, but from the moment Clark gives him the ring, the implication is given that there might be a scenario where it's a last resort and he actually has to stop Clark. I believe there is a comic that explores this in the Armageddon 2001 crossover, but I haven't read it. Or any other Elseworld stories where Superman goes evil, so I'm not aware if Bruce has ever used it like that. I like to think that even if he needs to, Bruce finds another way, because that's what Superman and Batman do.

Finally, in Superman/Batman: The Search for Kryptonite, Clark asks Bruce to help him rid the world of Kryptonite, after the large asteroid that carried Kara had come to earth. They go about this together very meticulously, and in the end, Clark decides to give Bruce the final piece of kryptonite. But when Bruce goes to deposit it in his cave, we see that he has all varieties and a stockpile of green K.

panels from Superman/Batman #49

This first of all is weird because doesn't Clark know that Bruce already has a kryptonite ring? Unless continuity was wiped somewhere inbetween again. But it also shows how paranoid Batman has become, how far we've strain from the Bruce that really trusted Clark and gave him the ring first in 1990 to do with it what he wanted. Instead, Bruce now keeps a lot of kryptonite unbeknownst to Clark. I personally like the 1990 version of Bruce much better.

During the New 52 era, Bruce also had a Kryptonite ring that was given to him by Clark, as shown in Justice League (2011) #19 and #20.

Extra appearances

Superman/Batman (2003) #12, Superman uses it or a different piece himself on Supergirl.

Batman/Superman (2019) Annual 1, a very fun Superman vs. Batman story :D

In animation: Justice League Doom, loosely based on Tower of Babel.

Fun fact: in JLA: Tower of Babel, Bruce's contingency for Clark has nothing to do with green K, unlike in the movie. I'm assuming that this is because at the time, in the comics, Bruce didn't have the ring, it was in Lex's posession (during his presidency). Besides that, Bruce's contingency for Clark in Tower of Babel is something that would affect him no matter where he is.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use,, mentions of cheating,, physical violence

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 12

Now I could spend every minute with Matt. There were times when we’d shut ourselves off from the rest of the world for days. Matt would leave word that he wanted “no calls unless it’s my dad or an emergency call from Colonel.” It was my time, and no one could interfere. He was all mine.

When we got hungry, I phoned down to the kitchen and ordered our food, which was brought up and placed outside our bedroom door. After we finished, we stacked our empty trays neatly back in the same place.

We saw no one, nor even the light of day. The windows were insulated with tin foil and heavy blackout drapes to prevent any hint of sunlight from entering. Time was ours, to do with as we pleased, for as long as we pleased. Matt had a few months free between film commitments, and there was no pressure to return to Hollywood. We always seemed to be more in love when we were alone. I loved those times, when he was just Matt, not trying to live up to an image or a myth. We were two people discovering each other.

Only in the privacy of our own quarters did Matt show me a side of himself which had rarely, if ever, been seen by others. With no Colonel, no scripts, no films or music, nor any other people’s problems, Matt could become a little boy again, escaping from the responsibilities of family, friends, fans, the press, and the world. Here with me, he could be vulnerable and childlike, a playful boy who stayed in his pajamas for days at a time.

One day he was the dominant one and would treat me like a child, often scolding me for an incidental action. On other days I was the stronger one, looking after him like a doting mother, making sure that he ate everything on his plate, took all of his vitamins, and didn’t miss any of his favorite TV shows like Laugh-In, The Untouchables, The Wild, Wild West, The Tonight Show, and Road Runner. We listened to early Sunday morning gospel singing—our favorites were the Stamps, the Happy Goodman Family, and Jake Hess—and we watched the old movie classics that Matt loved: Wuthering Heights, It’s a Wonderful Life, and Miracle on 34th Street.

When we weren’t watching movies, we played silly games like hide-and-seek, or we’d have pillow fights that often ended in heated discussions of who hit whom the hardest. Our arguments were usually playful, but I noticed that they could become serious, especially after we’d each taken a couple of diet pills.

One evening we had both taken uppers and were wrestling with each other. I threw a pillow at him. He ducked it, and then, laughing, threw it back. I hurled another one at him, and then another, and without giving him a chance to recover, I threw another one. The last one hit him in the face. His eyes flashed with anger.

“Goddamn it!” he snapped. “Not so rough. I don’t want to play with a goddamn man.” He grabbed my arm, throwing me on the bed, and while demonstrating how hard I had thrown the pillows, he accidentally hit me in the eye. I flung my head to the side and jumped up, accusing him of hitting me on purpose.

“You can’t play without winning,” I yelled, “even with me. You started throwing harder and harder. What did you expect me to do?”

I stomped off to my dressing room and slammed the door as I heard him yelling, “You’re not a goddamn man.”

That night, we went to the movies. My arm was bruised where he’d grabbed me, and my eye was swollen black and blue. To make matters worse—and to make sure he felt bad—I wore a patch over the bruised eye. Everyone teased me, and Matt joked, “Couldn’t help it. She tried to get rough with me. I had to show her who’s boss.”

That night I got named “Toughie.”

Despite his teasing, Matt felt terrible about the incident. He had immediately apologized to me and kept apologizing for days.

“Baby, I’m really sorry,” he said. “You know I’d never hurt you in any way, that I’d never lay a hand on you, don’t you? That was a real accident.”

Yet the incident frightened me.

From then on, I began taking fewer pills and eventually stopped. I tried to persuade him to do the same. I started to question the quantities even though I knew he had various ailments causing pain which necessitated taking prescribed medication. I did everything I could for Matt and we shared many wonderful happy times together. However, his harsh objection to stopping made me realize that there could be a problem. I assumed he knew best for himself.

Colonel William’s theory was: “If you want to see Matt Sturniolo, you buy a ticket.” Once you started passing out freebies, it meant a lot of lost income. He stuck to that policy.

Matt agreed with the Colonel, feeling that Colonel knew best, saying, “Colonel doesn’t mind taking the blame.”

When life got boring you could count on Matt to concoct some new escapade. He was extraordinarily inventive. One particularly dreary day he decided out of the blue that he didn’t like the looks of an old house located on the grounds in back of the mansion. His uncle Travis had once occupied the place, which was now used for storage. Matt took a long look at it, called his father, and told him to get a bulldozer over there right away and get rid of it.

I could imagine what was going through James’s mind: Good God, what’s he up to now? He knew if Matt was at home and bored between films, anything could happen.

When the bulldozer appeared, Matt insisted that he was going to do the honors, convincing his father—and the local fire and demolition departments—that he could handle the job himself.

Wearing his football helmet and his big furry Eskimo coat, Matt proceeded, as his entourage cheered him on, to bring down the house and set it afire. This brought the fire trucks screaming through the gates. “You’re a little late, fellows,” Matt said, a happy, mischievous smile on his face.

Another time, he ordered his go-carts to be brought out and readied to ride. He held the record, of course, for the fastest time around the large circular drive.

Trying to prove that I was just as good as the guys, I tried to equal his time. Terrified, I would speed along as Matt clocked me on his stopwatch, giving me an approving grin when I reached the fifteen-mile-per-hour mark.

He turned Graceland into a private playground for us all. He’d have gun-shooting contests and also “screaming thrill rides” when he’d pack several people into his custom-built golf cart and race around the grounds at top speed.

Graceland’s backyard had more holes in it than the moon has craters—all from Romancandle fights. On the Fourth of July Matt always spent a fortune on fireworks, which arrived by the boxload. The boys would team up sides, aim candles directly at one another, and fire.

Although there were casualties—burned fingers and singed hair—no one seemed to care. Matt himself was as carefree as a young kid, hiding and then sneaking around the opposition with surprise attacks. Matt knew how to play hard and have fun.

Unfortunately, the time came for him to go back to Hollywood. He was due to begin his new film, Viva Las Vegas. His bus was parked in front of the white stone lions flanking the front steps of Graceland, loaded and ready to go.

I hated to see him leave. Arm in arm, we walked out the door.

Suddenly I pulled him back and tried to tell him what I was feeling, but there were distractions all around—people saying goodbye, music blaring from inside the bus, Alan yelling to George Klein to keep the sound rockin’ and rollin’.

I thought, If only it were quieter, if only Matt would take me aside so we could have some privacy.

But his attention was on all the activity and he was caught up in the excitement of going back to work.

“What is it, Baby?” he asked.

“I just wish you didn’t have to leave so soon,” I said, still unable to tell him what was really on my mind. “Just when we were starting to get used to each other, you have to go. I wish there were more time.”

“I know, Little One. Just give me a couple of weeks to get into the film and maybe you can come out for a while. Be a good girl, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and boarded the bus, the doors slamming shut behind him. Then I heard the familiar shout, “All right. Let’s roll it!”

With a roar, the bus cruised down the hill and through the Music Gates where, as always, his fans were loyally waving goodbye and urging him to “hurry home!”

I watched until I could no longer see the red taillights fading out on Highway 51.

Cursing myself, I wondered why I couldn’t tell him what I feared. I’d been upset ever since I’d learned that his new leading lady was going to be Julia Ernst, the fastest-rising starlet in Hollywood. Julia Ernst had made only a few movies, including Bye-Bye Birdie, but she’d been dubbed “the female Matt Sturniolo.” Matt was curious about her, pointing out that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

I realized that even had I told him my fears, he could have said nothing to put my mind at ease, because one evening he had made the mistake of telling me about the romances he’d had with many of his costars. Trying to listen calmly to these stories, I justified his behavior by reminding myself that I’d been living in Germany during those years and that we’d had no real ties then.

Now I was in his territory, living in his house with his friends, his family, and mementos of the past. It didn’t occur to me then, but I was living the way he wished—out of Hollywood society, the girl back home. I adapted. I wasn’t with him, but in a sense I was. And I assumed that he would be as faithful to me as I was to him.

Each time I would get ready to join Matt in Los Angeles he would delay my visit.

“Baby, now’s not the time to come out. There’s a problem on the set.”

“What kind of problem?”

“It’s just that all hell’s broke loose. I’ve got some crazed director madly in love with Julia. The way he’s directing it, you’d think it was her movie. He’s favoring her in all the goddamn close-up shots.” He paused, his anger rising. “Not only that, they want her to sing some of the songs with me. Colonel ’bout blew a fuse. Told ’em they’d have to pay me extra to sing with her.”

As I listened to Matt rant and rave, I tried to sympathize with him and his situation, but emotionally I was far more concerned about his leading lady than his director.

“Well, how are you and Julia Ernst getting along?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s okay, I guess.” He casually dismissed her with the line, “a typical Hollywood starlet.”

My concern was temporarily allayed. I knew that his attitude toward actresses was unfavorable. “They’re into their careers and their man comes second,” he’d say. “I don’t want to be second to anything or anyone. That’s why you don’t have to worry about my falling in love with my so-called leading ladies.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t help noticing the national gossip magazines and the headlines about the torrid affair on the set of Viva Las Vegas. The problem was that the affair was not between Julia Ernst and the director. It was between Julia Ernst and Matt.

We were talking on the phone one night and I asked, “Is there anything to it?”

“Hell, no,” he said, immediately becoming defensive. “You know how these reporters are. They blow everything out of proportion. She comes around here mostly on weekends with her motorcycle. She hangs out and jokes with the guys. That’s it.”

But that was enough for me: She was there and I wasn’t.

Infuriated, I declared, “I want to come out now.”

“No, not now! We’re wrapping up the film and I’ll be home in a week or two. You keep your little ass there and keep the home fires burning.”

“The flame’s burning on low. Someone had better come home and start the fire.”

Matt laughed. “You’re beginning to sound like me,” he bragged. “I’d better watch it. There can’t be two of us walking around. I’ll be home soon, Baby. Get everything ready.” By the end of our phone call, I was eagerly making plans for his return.

I took out my calendar, counted the days until his homecoming, and then crossed them off one at a time. Threatened with doubts and fears, I did everything I could to please him, from educating myself about the gospel music he loved to taking good care of Graceland.

My eagerness to please Matt was so overwhelming that it almost angered him. He always had an excuse why his other relationships hadn’t worked out. “They were either too hometown and couldn’t fit in with my Hollywood life-style,” he said, “or they were actresses too into their careers.” But how could he get out of a commitment to such a willing partner as me?

I often felt sorry for myself, and angry at Matt for putting me in a situation in which I was forced to be alone for literally weeks at a time.

Bored, I resorted to exploring the attic at Graceland. I’d asked Grandma once what was up there, and she’d answered, “Oh, nothin’, Hon, jus’ some old junk. God, I haven’t been up there in ages. No tellin’ what’s up thereor who.”

There was no question that something was stirring around in the attic. Many nights strange noises were heard above the kitchen. Grandma said she’d heard the noises herself, lying awake, praying for daylight before even closing her eyes for sleep.

She imagined that it might be Mary Lou’s spirit up there, watching over Matt.

“Do you believe in spirits, Grandma?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, Hon. Sometimes I wander through this house and I can just feel ’em all around. Ask Hallie, she knows. She’s felt ’em too.”

Hallie was a large dark-skinned woman, our faithful and devoted companion. She stayed with Grandma and me at night while Matt was away, guarding us with her life—and a small gun that she tucked securely under the bed each night.

One evening, after Hallie turned out the lights, I asked her, “Hallie, do you think there’s spirits there, like Grandma does?”

“Well, Miss y/n, all I can tell you is that I hear strange voices I ain’t never heard before in any house I’ve ever been in, and sometimes it gits awful quiet here, a kind of stillness that I ain’t never felt neither. But don’t you lay there and worry, child. If there are any spirits, they’ll do you no harm.”

“Amen,” Grandma said.

The next day, I decided to venture up to the attic, to see for myself what was there. As I walked up the stairs, I rubbed my hand up and down the gold-painted banister, noting the chipped paint. I called out, “Don’t you think this should be repainted, Dodger?”

Grandma, standing at the bottom of the stairs, lifted her dark shades to get a closer look. “Yes, Hon, we’d better tell James. That does look bad.”

“Maybe we should do it before Matt gets home and surprise him. I’ll ask Mr. Sturniolo in the morning.”

At the top of the stairs I entered the attic and discovered Matt’s world.

Several trunks were filled with his military gear. There were old television sets and furniture that had been in his bedroom years before. I ran my hand over a couch, wondering who’d sat there with him. Jealous, I walked away.

I found two closets side by side and opened one. It was filled with clothes from Matt’s early days—black leather jackets, motorcycle hats, and a pink shirt I’d seen in pictures. I loved the way he looked in that shirt and wished he’d wear it again.

With growing curiosity, I sorted through everything. I felt closer to Matt just by touching his things, and all I could think of was what girl he’d been with at the time—Lucy, Judy, Nicole, Bonnie? I was so possessive, I had to know.

Then I came across some letters hidden under an old sweater, letters from Nicole, all addressed to him in Germany. I put them in dated order, from his arrival in Germany to his departure, and sat there for hours poring over every one.

Nicole had written at least two letters a week, all saying basically the same thing: she loved him, missed him, and was counting the days until his return—just as I had done. She had been in the process of acquiring him as a lover just as I’d been losing him. Clearly Nicole had been telling her that she was the only one in his life. Confused and hurt, I realized that he had been writing to his “Little Bit,” as he called her, that he couldn’t wait to come home and see her, at the same time that he had been holding me tightly, telling me he couldn’t bear to leave his “Little Girl.”

I felt betrayed, as I’m sure she felt when she read and heard about me. Returning the next day to investigate the adjoining closet, I came upon Mary Lou’s belongings—her clothes, her old photos and papers. It was strange to see all her dresses, hanging neatly. I knew Matt had had them put there. He couldn’t have faced throwing away any of her personal belongings.

I tried on one of her dresses and could tell that she liked soft materials on her skin, just as I did. By the size of her dress, I could see she was a small woman, and by the texture, I knew she cared more about the feel of a dress than about fashion or style. She liked to dress simply and comfortably. I felt guilty in her dress, but it gave me a better sense of Mary Lou Sturniolo: a woman, as Grandma had described her, with a heart of gold—yet you never wanted to cross her. When she was angry, “she cussed like a sailor and had the wrath of God in her.”

I felt sad—for Matt, for Mary Lou, for us all because we have to contend with death. Life could be so different if Mary Lou were here, I thought, weeping as though she were my own mother. I felt Mary Lou’s presence in that little room, also her grief and loneliness. Maybe it was her spirit that Grandma and Hallie sensed.

All of a sudden, Hallie’s face appeared in the doorway. We both screamed with fright, yelling, “What are you doing up here?”.

“Child, this ain’t no place you should be. Too many sad memories. B’sides, it’s dark and scary. Only reason I come up is ’cause Miss Minnie was worried ’bout you.”

Then, as Hallie walked away, waving her hands above her head, she said under her breath, “No ma’am, I don’t like it up here.”

The next time Matt returned to Los Angeles, where he was to begin filming Kissin’ Cousins, I flew with him. I loved L.A. It was exciting compared to the slow pace I had grown accustomed to in Boston. Best of all, I felt a part of Matt’s world. His hectic schedule and daily life were realities to me now, no longer just remote events chronicled in our nightly phone calls.

The problem was that his life still included Julia Ernst, despite the fact that their film, Viva Las Vegas, had been completed six weeks before. The newspapers were reporting their “blossoming” affair daily, each article hitting me like a slap in the face. I thought, When will this be over—the news, the gossip, the headlines, the affair.

Matt returned from the studio one afternoon, carrying a newspaper and fuming. “I can’t believe she did it.” He flung the paper against the wall in disgust. “She had the goddamn nerve to announce we’re engaged.”

Though I was pretty sure of the answer, I asked, “Who?”

“Julia Ernst. Every major newspaper in America’s picked it up. The rumor’s spread like a goddamn disease.”

Turning to me, he said, “Honey, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. The press will be hanging around the gate and following me all over for a statement. Colonel suggests maybe you should go back to Boston till it calms down.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Suddenly all the months of unbearable silence broke and I screamed, “What’s going on here? I’m tired of these secrets. Telephone calls. Notes. Newspapers!” I picked up a flower vase and hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall. “I hate her!” I shouted. “Why doesn’t she keep her ass out of here where she belongs?”

Matt grabbed me and threw me on the bed. “Look, goddamn it! I didn’t know this was going to get out of hand. I want a woman who’s going to understand that things like this might just happen.” He gave me a hard, penetrating look. “Are you going to be her—or not?”

I stared back at him, furious and defiant, hating him for what he was putting me through.

After a long pause, our tempers cooled considerably. Once again desperate to please, I said, “I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll be waiting in Boston.”

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - 3 songs for extra long chapter!! (can you tell i like ultraviolence😬) 🎀

[taeraemisu]

delusional ; matthew zb1

synopsis ; in which reader is desperately holding onto the very thin thread of wanting to meet their childhood friend again even though they have lost all contact with each other

genre ; childhood friends to lovers, reader did not give up hope woah, a sprinkle of a cafe au, fluff !!

pairings ; matthew x reader, taerae being reader’s good friend

word count ; 1.5k words

“am i being delusional?”

“yes, one hundred percent.”

you and taerae were closing up the cafe you both work at, ten minutes till closing. just like any other night or waking moment, you were complaining to your dear friend taerae about a certain guy you could never forget.

“but hear me out-“

taerae puts his hands up, stopping you from speaking any further. “let’s look at this logically. you last saw him when you were 10, we are currently 21. the chances of him being here, right at this moment, is very slim.”

you groaned at the dimpled-boy. he was not wrong, but could he blame you? there wasn’t one moment where you have ever forgotten about his existence. and how could you? no one could forget the seok matthew if they ever meet him. he was someone who would be stuck in your head forever, a certain boy you will see passing by on the street and you can’t seem to ever forget him despite knowing nothing about him. that’s the kind of guy seok matthew was.

“okay, okay but just hear me out!” you said as you sweep the empty cafe. “maybe, and just maybe, he’s an exchange student right now and is currently here!”

taerae rolled his eyes, looking at you with the ‘really’ eyes. “think about what you just said, as slowly as you can, and what’s the probability of that.” he was washing the cups as he talks to you, so prepared to shoot down your delusions once more. “out of all the ideas you have mentioned to me, how many times has it been true? and how many times have i been right?”

you groaned. you hate how he was always right. there was once you were so convinced matthew would walk past you on the street right at that moment. did it happen? no. or the time how you and taerae were having dinner at a local restaurant and you were so convinced he was working there as a part-timer, about to serve the both of you your food. but did it happen? no.

maybe that’s why the both of you got along so well. one was delusional while the other is logical and shoots down the other’s delusions.

“just you wait, he is going to walk through those doors at this moment and order a drink,” you flashed a grin at your friend. taerae shakes his head, wiping the cups and putting them away now. he glanced at the clock. “i hope not, we are closing in a few minutes-“

the bell rings, making the both of you snap your head to the door. a foxy looking guy walks in, smiling sheepishly at the both of you. “it’s probably really late but is it okay if i could order one drink to go?”

the both of you stared at the guy in shock. taerae glanced at you, bewildered. you were right?! he could not believe this. the seok matthew was standing in front of the both of you. he had seen matthew’s photos so many times before, having you to thank, and he was so disappointed he recognised the guy instantly,

you, on the other hand, could not believe your eyes. seok matthew, the guy you have always wanted to meet again, was standing in front of you, right at this moment.

“if you guys are closed i could go-“

“no!” you said, a bit too loud. “i mean, we could make one more drink. you can stay as long as you like, we were both planning to stay to study anyways.” words jump around your head, trying to form proper sentences. could you even speak?

taerae looks at you, looking at you as if he is saying is-studying-really-the-best-you-could-think-of.

“yeah, we could make one more drink. what would you like?” taerae took over, while matthew walks over to the counter, leaving you standing in your spot while you stare at him. you remembered him, but does he remember you?

“does ice americano work?”

“of course!” you say a little too quickly before you behind the counter to prepare his drink. “name, sir?”

taerae rolls his eyes. you definitely knew more than just his name. “i mean, aren’t i the only person here?” matthew chuckles.

“procedures we have to follow,” you gave a soft smile while you prepare his drink. he returns a smile, eyeing you. “matthew, seok matthew.” you made his drink and gave it to him. you were trying to make it as slowly as you could cause when would you ever see him again?

“thanks!” matthew took a sip of the drink. “oh, wow, i might actually come here more often.”

“please do,” you said a little too quickly again before you realised you were staring at him. you could not think straight around him.

“so matthew, do you go to any schools nearby or did you just happen to be here?” taerae took over once more, looking at you with the you-owe-me look before looking back at matthew.

“i am actually! i go to zerose university nearby! i’m the new exchange from canada! what about the both of you?”

you stared at him in shock, you were right again! 

“no way? we both go there too! maybe we will be seeing you around more often,” taerae grins before you both bid a goodbye to matthew who leaves the cafe. you just stare at taerae in shock. “who’s the right one now?”

weeks and a little over a month have past since you first met matthew again, and he started to appear at the cafe you work at a lot. he would be there before you even start your shift and leave till closing. you never had the courage to talk to him though, even though you recognised him. what if he doesn’t even remember you?

“here’s your matcha latte,” you smiled at him as you serve his drink, looking at how all his papers and books were spread all over the table. “how’s the assignments, woohyun?” you asked, finally making small conversation and not relying on taerae to do most of the talking. “honestly professor kim gives the easiest-“

“how do you know my name?”

you stopped talking and looked at him. “you told me your name? matthew?”

he was now eyeing you. “not that one, my korean name. woohyun.”

you paused, instantly going red. how is it the one time you talk to him you messed up? he doesn’t even remember you so now he probably thinks that you are a stalker. “i … oh look! customers, i have to go!” you speedwalked away, leaving matthew in his seat while you turn red all over. how could you mess everything up?

after serving customers, you stayed in the break room, not daring to go out. taerae and your other co-workers took care of the rest of the shift while you panic. i can’t lose him again.

once again, you and taerae were responsible for closing. when you finally get out of the break room, matthew was still there in his seat, in a deep sleep. you were so embarrassed you could not even look at him. “taerae, what am i going to do?” you whispered to your friend. “i can’t face him anymore.”

taerae grins at you. “you should wake him up, everything is already cleaned up and we can’t just leave him here.”

“cant you do it?”

he shakes his head, nudging you towards matthew. you sighed and consciously walked up to him, shaking him softly to wake him. how could he still be gorgeous while sleeping?

“matthew-“

he woke up instantly, flinching in his seat. “i’m so sorry!” you apologised, playing around with your fingers. “it’s closing time and we have to close—“ you turned back to look at taerae who was long gone, no where to be seen in the cafe. oh this bitch. “—actually, i have to close. so sorry for waking you up.” you bit the inside of your cheek and thought about what happened earlier. “and for earlier, i swear i’m not a stalker i just-“

matthew cuts you off, giving you a hug. “i know you yn. so sorry i did not recognise you sooner. you did look familiar i just didn’t want to assume.” he pulls away and cleans his things up. “if it weren’t for taerae or your woohyun incident, it might have taken longer for me to remember you.”

you tilted your head. taerae?

“oh, you didn’t know? after you called me woohyun and disappeared off, taerae explained how you recognised me and how we knew each other since we were kids,” matthew chuckles. “he heavily emphasised how you are not a stalker.”

you grinned, oh you owed your friend so much. “he did one thing right,” you mumbled. matthew grins at you and pulls his bag over his shoulder. “which was a very good thing because …” his voice trails off. “i have been wanting to ask you on a date.”

you widen your eyes. “a date?”

“you can say no! no pressure or anything just-“

you cut his words off, giving him a peck on his cheek. “i would like that, actually.”

you have so much to thank taerae for.

© taeraemisu do not copy my works !

[silvercap]

"collapse" is a classic ^^ please?

For sure!! (Prompts)

21. Collapse

Leon barely makes it inside his apartment before his legs give out entirely, bloody hands smearing bright red down the wall as he tries and fails to catch his balance, gasping. His vision tilts and spins sickeningly until he can finally settle with a heavy thud on the cheap hardwood floor, pulse racing in his ears. He can feel it pulsing in time with the throbbing pain in his side, fresh blood trickling hotly over his hands no matter how hard he tries to apply pressure. For a moment, he's too nauseous to do anything more than sit, aching legs welcoming the reprieve.

He can't stay here. They'll already be looking for him, and the blood trail he's left through the building isn't exactly subtle. Gritting his teeth, Leon forces his body forward, crawling on hands and knees towards the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom. The hallway is short, but it feels like it takes an eternity, every stretch of Leon's abdomen prompting a fresh surge of spiking agony through his brand-new gunshot wound.

It takes more effort than it should to prop himself up on his knees long enough to flick on the light, the glance Leon gets of his face in the mirror just long enough to see the sheer terror in his own wild gaze. A distant crack makes him jump, hands fluttering clumsily over the cupboard doors before he manages to pry open the cabinet beneath the sink and draw out the considerable first aid kit. Several bottles of lotion and other excess toiletries tumble out with a clatter, but Leon doesn't bother reorganizing.

Cool porcelain presses into his back as he throws himself against the bathtub side, a muted cry slipping free of his control when the paralyzing agony ripples upwards and into his ribcage. Leon grunts, fumbling for the kit. The needle and thread are exactly where they should be in the upper compartment, already threaded and ready to go, but Leon doesn't have time to stitch himself up. He can already hear shouts in the hallway, the wail of emergency vehicles slowly growing closer on the street outside. God, what a fucking mess.

With unsteady hands, Leon digs for gauze, ripping open a packet and folding it up before he can think too hard about what he's about to do. He presses down hard on the wound in his hip , booted feet kicking slightly in reflex as he holds back a scream. He does his best to push the gauze as far in as he can with his fingers, electric pain twanging through his nerves as it scrapes over exposed endings. There's sweat dripping into his eyes, breaths echoing over the bathroom tiles, but Leon grits his teeth against the overwhelm. There's just no time.

Several more layers of gauze and an elastic bandage wrapped tightly around his waist later, Leon resurfaces from the haze he's begun to slip into and pushes the first aid kit to the side. It's marginally easier to stand with the countertop to support him, adrenaline leaving him shaky and jerky as he stumbles his way into the hallway and towards the bedroom where the rest of his guns are. The safe is in the back of his closet, the lock spinning under his fingers by muscle memory as someone shouts again outside the apartment door and something rattles the handle.

A shotgun would be ideal, but Leon will settle for the handgun his fingers close around, one of the custom guns he'd had designed in his first few years with STRATCOM. It's still gleaming from the last time he'd cleaned it, magazine in place and perfectly primed for combat. Leon lets himself fall back against the wall as the apartment door shatters beneath the assault it's been subjected to, propping the gun on his knee and trying to get his breath back under control.

He's not going down without a fight.