#its fucking stupid o clock

[klauw22]

[blooming-cecilia]

sweetest dreams | venti x reader

venti wakes up in the middle of the night. he's still half awake, very much sleepy, and he doesn't know what woke him up. but as always, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is to look at his windblume—only to find them already looking at him.

"huh...? windblume...? it's still dark out, why are you awake?"

they don't respond. in fact, it doesn't seem like they've heard him at all. they look dazed, in a trance, just looking at him. it's kind of creepy actually...but i'm not one to talk when i like to watch them sleep.

worried, venti lifts his upper body up to get a better look at them, squinting in the dark and gently placing a hand on their arm.

"my love? what's wrong, you okay...?nightmare...?"

they still don't use their words, but they do shake their head and scoot closer to him for a cuddle. his body moves to hold them close. their head on his chest, arms wrapping around them, his hands gently caressing their hair then leaning down for a kiss on the forehead as he always does.

he's still confused on what's gotten into his beloved at this hour, but it's nothing unusual. they're not a very talkative person, especially when they're all curled up in bed, so he does not push, and instead just lets himself relax at the warmth from their hug and their soft gentle breathing.

he's close to falling back to sleep when he feels them shift to look up at him again. curious, he looks back down and almost coos at the sight: his windblume is sleepy—droopy eyes peering up at him, the same fond look in their eyes that makes his heart flutter and their hand holding him by his waist, gently pulling him even closer to them.

"'love you..."

barely a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear. he hopes you too, hear his heart start to race as your words sink into him, his own fond look appearing on his face, and he quietly giggles, pulling you close and kissing your forehead again.

"oh windblume... is that it? is that what kept you awake? heh, so silly...but i love you too."

his hands go back to carding your hair, and you shift again to get comfy—finally resting now that your little mission is complete.

"go to sleep now, dearest. i'll make you breakfast when the sun rises in the morning. sweet dreams."

[fruutbaag]

i barely feel like a person sometimes ngl

[mygnolia]

sunghoon when you’re sick

pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader headcannons!

cw: cursing, mentions of chicken noodle soup (the food not the song), married life, getting sick/colds, hoonie my bae

wc: 1k

- okay so i feel like because he’s on the ice a lot

- he’s cold

- like in en-o-clock ep 20 behind he said it had been a while since he was on the ice so he was cold but that just means whenever he’s performing he’s not cold or not that cold at least

- and he’s acclimated to ice rink temperatures right?

- (and self projecting here but i myself am very cold all the time and it takes me a long time to get warm but i never get hot-?)

- so i feel like maybe one day its raining

- or the heater is broken and you have to suffer

- and you’re both on the bed, scrolling through your phones, but you’re shivering

- but sunghoon’s used to it

- only issue? he is not a raging furnace

- he’s a block of ice

- “sunghoon i’m cold.”

- “y/n, i can’t help you.” he’s just honest w/ everything atp

- “yes you can! cuddle me.” and you’d forcibly grab his arm and tangle urself with him

- you come to the very shocking realization that sunghoon is literally colder than the temperature outside.

- you pull away IMMEDIATELY and scowl at him

- he shrugs as if to tell you “i told you so.”

- he’s not offended he just accepted that he will never be warm

- man knows you’re just trying not to become the ice cube that he is

- omg sunghoon emotional brick and ice cube look at my…shape skills go

- so you’d go back to becoming one with the blankets but it doesn’t work and you’re like “hoonie :((“

- “yes dear.” sunghoon rolls his eyes, looking over at your covered figure nonetheless abd adjusts your blankets for you

- “can we cuddle, the blankets aren’t working :((“

- sunghoon probably gets an eye workout with how many times he rolls his eyes

- but he… L words u…so “okay. come here.” and he puts his phone down on the nightstand and gives you a hug

- internally he would laugh at your antics but he knows you’re just cold and he obviously wants to help but

- mans literally -2 degrees in body heat idk what to tell u

- but after a while you warm up the blankets EVENTUALLY get hotter

- u probs fell asleep and your body heat increased so you’re warm now

- he falls asleep too

- u end up with a COLD and he’s fine btw

- through the coughs and sniffles you blame him for not being your personal fireplace

- he goes “we slept together???? and you cuddled me??? for three hours??? fyi you could have gotten more blankets”

- ‘why can’t this man just spoonfeed u chicken noodle soup like a good bf’

- “can i at least have a kiss?” you pout at him underneath your blankets, even though the heater is in perfect working condition, and sunghoon feels himself falling harder for you everyday

- you are just so DAMN!!! CUTE!!! he can only handle so much until he says fuck it and puts a ring on ur finger

- omg married life with sunghoon or wtv…. NOT blushing

- “no. i’m going to get sick if I kiss you too.”

- “I AM SO SICK OF U!” /j

- ur stupid play on words makes him laugh and he gives in w/ a small peck :>

- even though ur hating him for not being cute and cuddly he just can’t get sick

- he has a competition coming up! sunghoon can’t be under the weather when he’s already under ur spell >:

- “take your medicine goddamnit” but it’s lovingly scolding you as he pushes the weirdly cherry flavored liquid down and follows up with a cup of warm water

- always has tissues on hand

- you’re in the car? tissues. you’re in the kitchen? no babe don’t use the paper towels to blow your nose it’s too rough on your skin

- if you want to cuddle he will say no

- I MEAN EVERY OTHER TIME HE JUST SITS THERE AND LETS U DO WHATEVER U WANT

- “guess this is my life now”

- “i can’t believe you won’t cuddle with me :(“

- “i cant believe you got sick despite hugging me and still having three blankets.” NO CHILL

- sunghoon simultaneously makes fun of you but will take care of you

- if he’s not home expect a sticky note or a voicemail

- “ahh, sorry for ringing your phone so early, i hope you’re getting your sleep <33 just wanted to call and make sure you drink the water in the bottle next to you, i warmed it this morning before i left for practice, and there’s some food in the fridge that jay brought over yesterday. hope you feel better soon i love you”

- alexa play fighting bleeding losing…no matter what i do by txt

- yeah he’s so sweet he’d stop the teasing bc he knows you hate being sick and doesn’t want to make it worse for you

- sometimes you wake up and you literally can’t breathe??

- breathing through nose era when!! /j

- you’d try to get your work done, hoon alr called sick days off for u but you have nothing to do at home so you get your laptop

- “Hi honey,” Sunghoon greets from the doorway, quickly kicking off his shoes and entering your bedroom. “I brought you some tea, Heeseung said it would help you since his mom gave it to him. Do you want some right now?” You nod, coughing with the quick and unexpected movement of your head.

- Sunghoon comes back with a steaming cup of warm golden tea, and blows on the top before letting you take a sip. “Be careful, it’s hot.” And you dismiss his words before you’re hissing at your burned tongue.

- u don’t catch a break huh

- you finish the cup of tea by the end of the night and sunghoon comes to give u a little forehead kith before telling you to sleep

- tmr u wake up and you can BREATHE again

- which gods did this why do you finally feel like a functioning human being

- ANYWAYS THOUGH!! Sunghoon’s competition is in two hours you don’t have time to waste hello?

- Outfit with hoodie, giant puffer jacket, and a turtleneck, and the thickest pants known to mankind

- driving to the rink where he’s competing and watching him with a giant lovesick grin without him knowing you’re there

- you give him a hug when he’s done

- happy at first and loves to see you, but wants to make sure you’re okay

- You both go home and he’s like “half of that outfit is mine.”

- yeah. he’s not wrong. anyways.

- celebratory dinner! he kisses you many many times thanking you for coming out to see him

- happy to finally cuddle again, holding you close now they you’ve recovered

- he got sick the next day.

—

f for sunghoon. thank you.

[moyazaika]

omg doe brought up this AMAZINGGG idea abt the crime lord yan and his lawyer darling hello hey hi!!!!!!

this kinda got away from me because it is 3am but i nEEEEEDED to get this out bjsjsjjs i blame @carnivorousyandeere

i know i wrote the initial dynamic for his darling to be his lawyer, in that they’re on his side in court to keep him from getting sent to prison BUT BUT BUT hear me out T_T

lawyer darling who put yan kingpin away.

as in ,, you are the reason he was found guilty. you are the one, when the judge announced the final verdict, that his gaze turned to and that he smiled for, then. sentenced to death, before it was appealed to multiple life sentences; the beginning of the end of his empire.

you, you, you — the cause of his downfall.

after the infamous internationally documented case, your career soars to unprecedented heights. you’re the lawyer on every newspaper in every country, all the tv channels and glossy magazines. every law school wants you to speak at their graduation ceremonies. every firm’s reaching out to you. the whole world knows your name; you have everything!

—so why do you keep going back to the man who now has nothing?

the kingpin looks the same as he did that fateful day in court. only now, there’s bags under his eyes, and a five o clock shadow on his jaw; lips still curled in an easygoing smile. he laughs when he sees you, as if the two of you were merely old friends who hadn’t caught up in a while.

as if you’re not visiting him years later in the city’s most high security prison.

he grins. “come to gloat, have ‘ya?”

“you’ve committed countless crimes.” you state. “stolen lives and livelihoods. broken up families. killed good men. and still, all these years later, no remorse?”

“don’t get ‘yer panties in a twist,” he huffs, lazily leans back in the rickety prison chair so that he’s swinging it back and forth on its back legs, like a child. how absurd that even the garish orange uniform of a prison should suit him, “comes with the job description, don’t it?”

“i think about you,” you admit, eyeing the chains that bind his handcuffed hands to the desk in front of him. you look up, meet his gaze through the thick, dirty pane that separates you from him. keeps you safe. out of his reach, if only just.

a low whistle. “you sure know how to make a man feel special, y’know. been followin’ your cases. never put another one like me away, did ‘ya?” he grins. “i like that i’m special. makes me feel all warm ‘nd fuzzy inside.”

“wow,” you let out. “you really have gone insane.”

“always been a ‘lil crazy! like i said, part of the job description. though i’ve been thinkin’ recently,” he starts.

your fascination prompts you to lean closer. a sort of morbid curiosity that yearns to solve the puzzle of his twisted mind, slot the pieces you’ve already got in a way that makes them fit. you’ve got this weird feeling that you’re missing something. a big piece, maybe. one of the central ones.

“thinking about what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost conspiratorial. he leans in, too, all wide eyes—

—and then he jerks forward with the chains around the cuffs on his wrists pulled taut as he suddenly yanks them all the way, like a feral dog pulling on its leash. he looks like one, too, with that glint in his eyes.

“fuck!”

you barely even register that you’re on the floor until he laughs, low in his throat. he makes a vague gesture to your chair, toppled over on its side.

“oops.” he says, coyly. “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”

“liar,” you hiss, standing up to dust yourself off. this was stupid. why would you even entertain the idea of a civil conversation with a madman?

he gasps dramatically. “this is slander, your honour!”

“i’m leaving,” you scoff. “i don’t even know why i even came down here. you’re clearly fucking crazy.”

“and you’re no fun!” he pouts. “how ‘bout you stay just a little longer and i’ll make it worth ‘yer time, pretty please?”

“no can do,” you turn on your heels and reach for the door, fingers curled around the handle as you spare him one final glance over your shoulder— “have fun rotting in here for the rest of your life, psycho.”

—except the door won’t open. you try again, and again once more. the handle won’t budge. an awful sense of urgency overcomes you as you desperately shake the handle in a futile attempt to get it to just—

“funny ‘yer calling me crazy, ‘cus einstein once said real insanity is doin’ the same thing,” he beams. “over and over and over and over again, and expecting different results. door’s locked, lovely. ‘yer not getting out from there, ‘m afraid.”

you turn back then, still holding onto that door like a lifeline. he’s standing up, rubbing sore wrists that are, you realise with a sinking feeling, no longer bound by the handcuffs that kept him chained; on a short leash, like a good dog.

“what are you doing…?” your voice shakes, and it’s a far cry to the headstrong, unwavering lawyer who put the world’s most notorious criminal behind bars. “what the fuck—”

“i told you i’d make it worth your while t’stay,” he rolls up his sleeves, before pushing all of his hair (longer and greasier than the last you saw him) out of his face, features set in a determination you’ve never glimpsed before. familiar eyes twinkle with mischief. “and i meant it, y’know. the world’s very best lawyer came so far to see me! least i can do is greet ‘em properly.”

“‘cus see, the other prisoners wouldn’t be so nice. but i’ve been thinkin’ about you too.” he pulls his arm back and his fist comes flying at the pane. “don’t wanna have a conversation or nothin’ like that, nah, we talked enough.”

“you’ve been thinking about me, i’ve been waiting around for you…” bloody knuckles against cracks in the one barrier that is keeping you safe from him. you watch, helpless, as it threatens to break beneath the brute force of his trained fists.

“now let me just come over there,” he pulls his arm back again, ready to strike; knuckles raw and red, like the maniacal grin carved onto his pretty, flushed face. a deep blush and a shaky smile as those fists bring it all crashing down. “and show you how much i missed my faaavourite lawyer in the whole wide world.”

“—that be a good enough reason to stick around?” he asks slyly, before catching himself. “oh, silly me.” he shakes his head, apologetically, as he steps over broken shards on the floor, tainted with his blood. “doesn’t matter what ‘ya say.” a low hum when scarred hands reach out for you. “i waited so long for you…”

“… so, let’s make up reaaalllll good for all that lost time, okay?”

[imaginesig]

A Bear and a Gorgeous Girl

Ollie Bearman x singer!reader

with a new wave of fame, how does her hard rock aesthetic hold up when Y/n's fans find her boyfriends account? More specifically how she appears on that account.

ynln

Liked by user1, louis91, olliebearman, and 833 others

Ynln: You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

tagged: no one

olliebearman i wanna support the arts 🙋🏻‍♂️

User1 I’ve been living for the on tour posts

User2 fr let’s all say thank you Louis!!

user3 that’s an odd caption—are you teasing song lyrics??

user4 Bear cameo

user7 the day we learn who bear is, is the day I die

user5 I want to know who her man is so bad

user6 Y/N LET ME IN

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olliebearman

liked by paularon_, kimi.antonelli, user2, and 732,927 others

ollliebearman: i spent my free time following my gf on her tour

tagged ynln

ynln forever grateful Bear ❤️

olliebearman 🧸❤️

kimi.antonelli simp

user1 it upsets me everytime im reminded they're both off the market

user2 ugh shes so pretty

user3 im a new fan, who is she?

user4 Y/n is a small artist who recently started touring with Louis Tomlinson (fron One Direction) and gained followers

user5 They're been together for about a year, but from what ive noticed, her newer fans havent connected that Ollie is her bf (understandable because she hasnt posted/tagged him in awhile)

user6 oh to have a supportive bf like ollie

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ynln

liked by louis91, ynln_hq, olliebearman, and 1,982 others

ynln: thank you Louis for an increable experience!! To everyone who learned my songs and cheered me on I love you ❤️❤️

tagged louis91, ynln_hq

olliebearman gorgeous girl

user4 you can say that again

louis91 you are a meance and it was an honor to be your first tour!

ynln 1D was also my first concert

louis91 so you've meantioned several hundred times

user1 best opener ever!!!

user2 im so glad ive discovered you

user3 og fans tap in!!

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ynln

liked by louis91, use54, user9, and 2,938 others

ynln: "Mom, I'm Goin' Out" dropping 7/24!! Enjoy my new single "Too Sweet" while you wait 💋💋

tagged ynln_hq

louis91 its gonna be fucking amazing

thesnuts you're smashing it

oliviarodrigo on repeat!!

user1 AHHHH BABE WAKE UP Y/N IS DROPPING A NEW ALBUM

user2 "its ten o clock before i say a word... you wake up for the sunrise" ok miss ma'am

user3 she found herself a good boy

user4 we've known Bear is the golden retriver to her black cat

user5 ok so she posted a soft launch-esc post with a lyrics from too sweet. The rest of that stanza is "You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day"

user6 so?

user5 so its pr its about depsite the song suggesing otherwise

user7 noooo she's off the market

user8 i swear she laced the lines "i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three" with crack

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olliebearman posted a story!

caption: gorgeous girl is releasing an EP stream it 7/24

ynln

liked by mmataband, user54, kimi.antonelli, and 2,930 others

ynln: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" has dropped!! Thank you to my family, fellow musicians, and my muse for the endless support! Now stop reading and learn the songs, we got gigs to attend

tagged: ynln_hq, olliebearman

user1 ok hard launch

mmataband we make a killer track

louis91 so proud!

kimi.antonelli adding to the Prema playlist now

ynln if Ollie hasnt already beaten you to it

kimi.antonelli yk he has 😔

user2 Y/n: tags her bf in her EP release, me: stalks him while streaming said EP

user3 UGH MAROON IS TOO GOOD

user4 there is no reason why "The Chain" is so hot

user5 WE FINALLY FOUND HIM

user6 BEAR IS OLLIE -BEAR-MAN

user7 are we all stupid orrr

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olliebearman

liked by ynln, paularon_, user32, and 721, 291 others

olliebearman: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" to celebrate love's new EP

tagged ynln

ynln you're so cheesy

olliebearman but you love me

ynln forever and always

kimi.antonelli please tell me she didn't let you actually touch that soundboard

olliebearman 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

user1 I cannot wait to blast Y/n while waiting for race to start

user2 this is the same Y/n???

user3 who are you girl

user4 I would have never pinned her to love pastel flowers and a pink heart cake

user5 I've stalked this mans whole account and we need to have a meeting

user6 the new Y/n fans have found Ollie ive seen...

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ynln

liked by user3, olliebearman, ynln_hq, and 293,293 others

ynln: HELLO?? YOU GUYS HAVE BLOWN THIS EP UP!! I'm so so lucky to say that my childhood dream has become a reality, thank you for everyone who have supported me and helped me on my musical journey!!

tagged: ynln_hq

louis91 stoked to see you're finally getting the attention you deserve

mmataband 🤘🏻🎸❤️🖤

user1 so so deserved!!!

user2 its been on repeat since it dropped

user3 ugh I swear this album was laced bc I CANNOT STOP LISTENING

user4 I can't wait for the live shows to start

user5 same!! I need to hear these songs live

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olliebearman

liked by kimi.antolli, paularon_, user54, and 273,393 others

olliebearman: I'm so in awe of your accomplishments gorgeous girl ❤️ Congrats on 1 million streams

tagged ynln

ynln couldnt have done it without my muse ❤️ love you bear

olliebearman love you too❤️

user1 theyre so cute but everytime he posts her its a jumpscare

user3 right its so far off from her aesthetic

user2 too cute!!

user4 God its me again

user5 when is it my turn

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ynln

liked by olliebearman, user43, paularon_, and 232,938 others

ynln: Bear has officially ruined my aesthetic but its ok because he's cute

tagged: olliebearman

user1 her hard rock aesthetic might be over but this post is still so put together within itself

olliebearman 😶

kimi.antonelli no its not ok, I dont wanna see you being all lovey dovey on my instragram

ynln something tells me you'll survive

ynln_hq you're still a kick ass rockstar in our eyes 🤩

user1 now that the shock is over im in love with them

user2 the second pic is literally so boyfriend coded

user3 lets all thank Y/n for her service

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olliebearman

liked by kimi.antonelli, user4, ynln, and 838,393 others

olliebearman: you heard the girl im cute!!

tagged: ynln

ynln this post is so Pinterest, ive trained you well 🥹

olliebearman best teacher ever!!

user1 ok aesthetic

user2 that second pic is gonna own pintrest

user3 looks like im sleeping in traffic tonight

user4 the matching captions make me sick I NEED IT

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ynln

liked by ynln_hq, olliebearman, louis91, and 233,939 others

ynln: guys its time I come clean... im a giant softie who likes my coffee in the form of an ice latte

tagged: olliebearman

olliebearman the lies!!! The deception!! cancel y/n 2024

ynln shut up 🙄

olliebearman 🎸❤️

ynln 🧸❤️

user1 not them having special emoji combos 😭

user2 the coffee drawing is so cute what

user3 well this was not what I was expecting from Y/n but im into it

user4 she's just a girl, no ones above an iced latte

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[iid-smile]

Hiii, I know this is probably a weird request and if it's triggering or just something you'd not want to write I totally understand!!! Just was thinking if you could write Nanami or Toji with a s/o who's always had their family manage their eating in an obsessive way so they sometimes have trouble with it and their weight. And they'd help them through it???

If not it's totally okayy, I also love your work a lot hust wanted to swoop that in here🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lots of lovee

perfect portion , fushiguro toji

x gn!reader , toji swearing, cw: mentions of scales, weight, not eating enough, body image, and food.

author's note: i decided to go with toji (which was very much a struggle) since i thought i had enough of nanami on my page (its a love hate relationship at this point) but if you want him instead, or don't like this one (i dont like it either because i clearly gave up at the end) slide in again and i'll deliver just for you!!!! 🫵😤 also i didn't proofread because i pushed through my writers block for this

thank you for your love anon! 🫶 i hope you enjoy!

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

the jingling of keys in the distance was a sign that toji finally came home. you could hear his heavy footsteps walking around the house, before coming towards the bedroom where you lay on the bed.

after opening the door, he lets out a sigh. "stay awake for me, sugar. 'm gonna order us pizza." his voice is barely comprehensible from his mumbles, but since it's such a common phrase, you understand what he says.

"oh..." your voice lightens and a short, near sheepish chuckle comes from you. "no, no thanks. i think ive had enough meals today."

he so obviously screws his face from what you said, not that you're looking, and he drops off a few belongings that were in his pockets onto the dresser before glancing over his shoulder. "what?"

in surprise, you look up from your phone. yes, sometimes toji could be a bit pushy with what he wants, but you're sure that the way you said no was obvious that you did not want to be convinced about it. did he not hear you right? "i said i ate enough today."

he scoffs, turning around to face you. "uh...no the fuck you didn't?"

"i did...? i'm sure i did. i told you."

"oh, come on. do you think i'm stupid now? is that it?"

"what?"

"i called you at three in the afternoon, and only then were you telling me you were having breaktast. you woke up way before me." he gestures over to the clock on the wall. "and look at the time. it's nine, and i only saw one dish in the sink."

"yeah. i ate."

"okay. fine, fine. i'll assume the best." he sighs in resignation, turning around and eyeing a piece of paper that he just now noticed was on the dresser. "and what the hell is this? what d'ya need these numbers for, huh?"

that was not supposed to be there for him to see. your eyebrows furrow, but you try to play off your tone as natural. "y'know... from the scale 'n stuff..."

"scale? what scale—? you bought a scale without telling me?"

mistake. well, your first mistake was not asking what he was actually referring to. he didn't notice that anyways, but your second was accidentally telling him that you bought a scale. "well, every house has one, don't they?"

toji was genuinely so flabbergasted to the point where he had to shake his head in disbelief. "not this one, no. because nobody needs one." his steps are obnoxiously loud as he approaches your side."hell, this isn't even about money anymore. why would you need a scale of all things?"

"..." his responses were fast. too fast, and faster than usual. it would've been easier if this was over text, but in person? it's ten times more difficult to think of an excuse. "because i need one." was the first one you thought of.

"who's been telling you to use a scale?"

"nobody..."

"nobody?"

"nobody."

"somebody, clearly. you think you just wake up one day, start writin' down your weight like it's important." he scrunches up the paper, tossing it off somewhere out of your sight. "it's fine, you look fine, and 'm ordering pizza because i want you to eat it."

"and i shouldn't—" you look down at your phone that you put down next to you at some point in the conversation, a notification flashing on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to that. you were looking at the time. around about now would you be getting a weight check...

"who the fuck's sayin' that? sayin' for you not to eat like that? 'cause it's not me." and he leans in closer to you. "so, who's tellin' you to use a scale?"

silence. long and loud. this was one of the last things you'd ever want to admit to him. he's a guy that's extremely proud of his strength, stays in great shape, unreal body proportions, and you're just... you. there's nothing special about you, about your appearance, about your body.

"listen, i won't do anything you don't want me to..." his face suddenly grows to look conflicted, and though the times he does are rare, he makes an effort to soften his voice. "tell me one thing. are you hungry?"

as much as you want to hesitate, as much as you want to put your foot down and say no, your stomach is telling you something different. you're more surprised that the entire time toji has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't heard how ungodly audible your stomach growls can really get. the urge is unstoppable; you just had to nod.

"then what are you waiting for? i'll order whatever you're craving." and out the bedroom he goes, making his way over to the house phone in the hallway. "if it would make you feel better, i'll eat the same amount as you do, so i can show you that it's okay. no more small portions for you."

"and if it makes me unhealthy? if i get sick?" you sound a little amused.

the tapping noises on the phone stops. toji didn't think about that part. "...i'll take you to the hospital. tell me what you want to eat 'n give me the takeout number."

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x fem! reader [vol i, vol ii, vol iii, vol iv]

⚠️trigger warnings: mentions of a exual assault, accusations, mentions of domestic abuse, teenage drinking, panic attacks etc

w/c: 7.9k

a/n: s/o to all my favorite people helping me continuously with this series! @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington !! 💋💋💋💋💋

You’re spinning, spinning, spinning. If you couldn’t smell your own hair products on your pillow, you would swear that you were in a dystopian world, twirling like a frisbee through a pink blossomed sky and being caught in a three headed cat's mouth.

It’s true, hangovers get worse with age, but you were only twenty one— and they’re supposed to go up from here? What happened to ‘the best years of your life’? Whoever said that should be shot and killed on site. Stupid bastard.

Opening your eyes seems like the worst idea you could do, so you don’t. You slowly let your other senses bring you back to reality. You recognized that you were in your bed. Something soft is wrapped around you and judging by the feel of the fabric between your fingers it’s your robe.

A pungent smell of sour bile presents on your breath, one whiff of it and it’s instantaneous: vomit.

Fuck, that would explain the burning in your throat and the graveling dry sensation in your mouth

Pieces of the puzzle that was last night start fitting into place in your mind.

The drinks. The shots. The food. The clinking sound of ice in Steve’s Bloody Mary as he tipped it back and the ice swam towards his teeth, is like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh Christ how there had been so many drinks. Damn Robin and her mischievous ideas for wanting to do shots. Memories of the fiery tingle of the top shelf vodka Steve insisted on having, hitting your lips is enough to make you pass out.

The hollow feeling in your stomach gets queasy as you remember the greasy bar food served at Louie’s. Your stomach quenches, clutching around itself, ridding its salmon colored lining of the disastrous evening.

But nothing comes up. Just heaving dryly in your bed as tears escape your eyelids and your feet hit the floor. Throwing your body into a whirlwind of dizzy flips— your brain swimming in a sea of Diet Coke and Malibu, membranes bursting with the carbonated bubbles.

You’ve never needed a toothbrush more than you do right at this very second. You stand and the world feels like its raging war on your head. Pulsing and throbbing, like a concert was playing in your head and the guitar solo never ended.

You open your door and are met with the thought of how the fuck did you get here last night? Fuck it, you’d ask questions later, for now you needed to empty your bladder and brush your teeth.

As soon as you lay a hand on the bathroom door, Eddie emerges from his bedroom. Sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips and purpling hickies decorate his neck. He’s rubbing his eyes but when he catches sight of you he smiles lazily.

“Holy hell,” Eddie quips, eyes scanning over your body. You robe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, it’s crooked but the tie is in place covering your lower half. They land on the wild mess of hair atop your head, “normally I’d say good morning but it’s—“ he leans back into his room to look at his alarm clock, chuckling at the realization, “—two in the afternoon.”

You don’t fight Eddie for the shower, too tired and weak to argue. You fumble through the medicine cabinet finding the ibuprofen and the Disney cup with the swirly straw on the sink, filling it and taking the slick coated medicine. Swallowing harshly, your throat still raw and aching.

You settle for brushing your teeth while Eddie is in the shower. He’s singing Teen Spirit and getting louder and louder. The circles of the vigorous brushing of your teeth mixed with Eddie’s singing are making your head pound. A long look in the mirror leaves you suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if you needed to look drop dead gorgeous at every single minute you’re around him.

What the hell is going on?

“Please,” you beg, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink, “for the love of everything holy— stop.”

The screeching noise of the shower curtain rings being pulled back pull your head up as you see Eddie half naked, torso covered in soap and your loofah in his hand, the dripping curls on his head turned to long waves with the weight of the water.

“Don’t act like I don’t sing like an angel, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, “besides, lying is not good for your health.”

The suds are traveling south, further and further and further downward, your eye fixated on one particular bubble as it pops right at his belly button.

You train your eyes on his, your cheeks heat from your staring. You reach up and shut the curtain.

“I wasn’t saying you sound bad—I just feel like my head is going to implode.”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “want me to sing you a lullaby? I’d put your baby ass to sleep just like I did last night.”

A million different scenarios flood your mind of what happened last night.

Did you kiss him? You remembering staring at his lips, the soft pillowy pinks, the way his tongue peak—

Oh fuck.

Are the hickies on his neck from you? His Adam apple bobs as he swallowed.

Shit.

Did you sleep together? Blankets, over your head.

What the fuck?

Where are your pants? You can’t even remember what pants you were wearing.

Where’s your car? Did you drive home?

Did Eddie pick you up from the bar?

Did he see you puke? You faintly remember puking on the floor of the front seat of a vehicle.

Your head continues to spin as you sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat. Suddenly feeling violated and disgusting.

“Tooty?” Eddie’s voice rings out.

This time you’re the one throwing open the curtain. Ignoring him as he shields himself with your loofah and his arm. “Jesus Chr—!“

“How fucking dare you!”

“What?!”

“You fucking pig, how could you do that to me!”

“Do what!” Eddie yells back

Your tossing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at his naked body, he’s surprisingly agile, dodging every one.

“How could you sleep with me when I was that drunk?! Jesus Christ I can’t believe you! Why would you do that to me?!”

Tears well in your eyes, you can’t believe that someone you once trusted, and were getting used to trusting again, after only being able to confide in three people over the last five years, would do something so vile, so fucking awful.

“After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since I was a kid Eddie! I get drunk one time and you take it upon yourself to forc— “

“Tooty!” Eddie hollers, turning the water off to the shower and stepping around you out of the way to grab a towel, he wraps it around his waist and turns to face you again.

“I didn’t do anything to you.” His eyes are wild but filled with hurt, he lowers his voice, and backs away from you. “If you don’t believe me, call Harrington. I talked to him after I carried your drunk puking ass to your own bed last night!”

“Then where are my pants?! If you ‘didn’t do anything to me’ where are my pants at?!” Eddie heads into the kitchen and pulls the short overalls you were wearing off the back of a chair, still damp from the wash. He tosses them towards you and they land at your feet.

“I washed them because you barfed all over them and I thought you would appreciate them being cleaned instead of in a vomit covered ball on the bathroom floor!”

Your accusations sting his eyes, and burn his nose.

You blink rapidly and rack your brain, the blurry sight of Steve’s car covered in puke comes into view. You struggling to get your clothes off alone in the bathroom. One? Or maybe two girls yelling at him as his back is turned to you, Eddie’s honey dripped voice talking to you as you throw up into the toilet, cheek nestled against the seat. And finally, the feel of his chest on your cheek as he carries you to your room, arms and hands never touching you inappropriately.

Before you can apologize Eddie is thrusting the cordless phone into your palm, Steve’s voice faintly heard from the speaker. He turns with a huff and not another look towards you as he slams his bedroom door shaking the frame.

-

Shutting your bedroom door, Eddie hangs his head, his forehead and one palm on the door, a small smile gracing his lips. His head is spinning, he’s not drunk, in fact he only had one beer tonight, right before their set started.

What is this feeling inside of him? Butterflies in his stomach? Nah, that shit was juvenile. He could only pray that it was indigestion, nothing a couple gulps from a Pepto Bismol bottle couldn’t fix. But he couldn’t deny it.

The instinctual gut feeling of needing to protect you rang true all day. He was ready to fight everyone and anyone who talked ill of you. He just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt this protective of someone since his own mother. He didn’t even feel this way towards Chrissy, and they dated for almost a year.

He pulls his head from the door, wondering if he should have put you on your side so if you vomited in your sleep you wouldn’t choke. He shakes his head, removing his hand slowly down your door, letting his fingers hang to his side.

What is this? Why is he acting like a parent? He rubs his eyes and turns to go to bed, your wadded up overalls in his peripheral vision. Would it be weird? Him washing your clothes? It’s not like your panties were in here it was just the overalls. He could be a good guy, he could be a decent human being, for you— he’d be it all.

Stomping down the dingy, murky basement steps he quickly throws your overalls into the washing machine, adding way too much powdered Era but figuring it was better than having them stink like puke. Slamming the metal lid closed with a wonky bang, he trots back up the stairs.

Stomach grumbling and realizing the only thing he had to eat all day were the poptarts he packed for work, he opens the fridge. Inside sitting on a shelf is a fading spaghetti stained Tupperware, on the lid is a sticky note, and written in your beautiful loopy handwriting:

“Got off work early and made the Tater tot casserole. Warm it up in the microwave for a minute thirty, hope you had a good show tonight. -T ”

-

You didn’t always love when your clients canceled last minute, it meant money gone from your pocket and an annoying increasing anxiety building in your gut when bills showed up. But today, you could actually enjoy the sun's rays on your shoulders for a bit as you drove down the streets of Hawkins, stopping at Bradleys Big Buys to get a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Pushing the cart through the aisles you found the two items you came for, hoping to make it home early so that you could make the casserole before Eddie played tonight, or maybe he could enjoy it when he got home.

Cooking for someone was a labor of love, the simplest act of kindness anyone could offer. That’s what Karen Wheeler had taught you when she would spend her Saturday’s teaching you and Nancy how to cook good hearty meals that would last a while so you wouldn’t starve in college.

“And someone enjoying the food you cook? Girls, that’s the best feeling in the world.”

She wasn’t lying. Even that first week with the lasagna when Eddie had basically came in his pants with every bite, you felt a skip in your chest.

It was the least you could do after he gave you a sense of calm whenever he was around. You didn’t trust many people. Not after what happened. In fact Nancy, Steve and Robin were the only people you could put any sort of hope in.

After browning the ground beef with an chopped onion and mixing the canned ingredients together, you season the mixture with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. One last wipe around the bowl with your spatula and it was good to go. Spreading the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan and added shredded cheese, you line the tater tots across in horizontal rows and toss it in the oven, covering the dish with tinfoil.

-

Steve confirms everything that had happened. Even down to the minor details of you calling him ‘Steeb’. You feel stupid. Your stomach sank when he said that Eddie had stayed up all night making sure your overalls were clean and that you weren’t choking on your vomit.

“He’s a good dude, Tooty,” he explains, “he’s a perv and a complete douche most of the time, but he would never in a million years do that to someone, especially you.”

“…I know.”

“But do you?” Steve prods, “you said so yourself that he kinda looked out for you, almost better than your own brother did.”

“He did— but that’s just because I was with Chrissy’s brother and he was dating Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s a good guy— someone trustworthy. Make it right.”

With that Steve hung up.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like a big pile of shit for what you did. Eddie wouldn’t understand. How could he? You blatantly accused him of doing something that you know in your heart and in your soul that he never could have done. Tears drop from your eyes and into your palms. You allow yourself to cry, something you hated doing, for a few minutes. Angry with yourself for the wrong that you did, but also hurting from the past. When your eyes were puffy and snot was sliding from your nose, you call it quits. Fanning your face you realize you still haven’t taken a shower yet this morning.

Making your way to the bathroom, you turn your head towards Eddie door, Steve was right, you needed to fix this.

But how?

-

The shower was exactly what you needed. The scald from the water was helping ooze the booze from your pores as your dehydrated body soaked it up. Eddie didn’t deserve your harsh words, your accusatory statements, the way his face fell in horror when you screamed at him was burned into your memories, something you saw whenever your eyes were closed. You sit on the floor of the shower. You couldn’t tell him what was going on, you were stronger than that. You didn’t need his sympathy, his pity parade, you would get through this on your own just like you always had. You may have been wrong and and you should probably apologize but you dismiss the idea. What the hell does Steve Harrington know about it?

Eddie bangs on the door, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You holler out.

“Hurry up so we can go get your car before you accuse me of stealing that too.” His voice is angry and hurt. Finishing up in the shower you leave the bathroom to see an impatient Eddie huffing around the living room, looking at his empty wrist as if he wore a watch and throwing his hands in the air.

“Christ will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh fucking relax,” you pout, slamming your door and toweling off. You settle for a pair of denim shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When you reach for the comb to untangle your hair you hear obnoxious honking.

He wouldn’t.

Eddie is sitting in the van laying on the horn. Grabbing your ratty white keds you fly through the house, grabbing your purse and combing your hair as you fling yourself through the door. The pavement is hot on your feet, an exceptionally warm day for September. The hot sun and humid temperatures are the worst mix for a hangover.

Indian summer in full swing.

“Fuck I’m right here, knock it off!” He’s staring at you with dead eyes, hand planted on the horn until you slide your ass onto the cracked leather seat.

Without another word he throws the van in reverse and reaches a hand over to your headrest twisting his body, the cut off flannel he is wearing isn’t buttoned, the powdery musk of his deodorant burns your nose.

Nothing has changed with the old van, tape decks are still littered across the dash, stumped out in the cup holder are a mountain of cigarettes and joints. Too many pine scented Little Trees hanging from the rearview doing a horrible job of hiding the smell of weed. Judas Priest screams through the speakers. You place a foot on the dash to get your shoe on when suddenly you are lurching forward. Eddie taps the brakes.

“No feet on the dash.”

You set your face in a scowl, words bitter on your tongue, “yeah, cause my shoe is really going to hurt the value of this piece of shit. I’m just putting my fucking shoe on since some asshole with a small dick complex couldn’t wait five minutes.”

A mocking chuckle escapes Eddie’s throat, “you really are such a pleasure to be around, how did I get this lucky?.”

“And you’re such a prick,” you seethe, bending over and tying your shoe, “why did you even answer my ad in the paper? All we do is fight because you fucking hate me.”

He’s had enough, slamming his foot onto the pedal, Eddie turns towards you and spits, “Do you really think of me like that? A predator? Someone who would move in with you just to violate you the second you pass out?”

“No I—“

“All the years you’ve known me, you think I’d just up and turn into a fucking rapist?!”

“Jesus Christ Eddie!“

“No, I wanna know, right now,” he turns to you, eyes angry and filled with hurt, “do you get off on this shit? Treating people like they’re nothing? Automatically assuming the worst about someone because of where they grew up? I’m not like that Tooty, I’m not like my—“ he stops himself, pushing his tongue to his cheek, “you are not the girl I knew. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”

“The girl you knew was fourteen, Eddie! My biggest problem back then was wondering who I could convince to buy Boonesfarm for the weekend rager, shit changed. I changed! I had to adapt to shit that was way out of my control. And you don’t even know half of it!”

“You’re right, I don’t and I bet if I were to ask, you wouldn’t even tell me, so fuck it, where am I going?”

“What?”

“I can’t read your mind, where is your car parked?”

You tell him. And as soon as you pull alongside Louie’s and beside your car, you realize you don’t have the keys.

“Open the door. Get out.” Eddie spits in a condescending tone.

Looking at him and smiling, with an extra side of cunt you sing, “I don’t have my keys.”

“Of fucking course.”

Lighting up a cigarette and cranking the wheel Eddie flies through Hawkins. He misses the turn on Kerley to get back home. “Missed the turn,” you announce, putting your other shoe on.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs lips tight in a line and exhaling through his nose. “Groceries.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Eddie parks, taking up for spots, a tire in each one, before the van even stops moving he’s already out and slamming the door, flicking his cigarette across the parking lot. The heat of the day already high.

Finishing lacing up your other shoe you run across the parking lot to catch up to him. He already has a cart and is whizzing through the aisles before you finally see him. Reaching into your purse you unfold the list and take a look at it.

Dunakaroos

Twizzlers

Gobstoppers

Spaghetti o’s

Bologna

Mayo— NOT MIRACLE WHIP! And no it’s not for that.

Lotion, yes for that 😉

the soft bread, not the brown one.

Carton of reds

Case of Busch Light.

Sunny D

Red kool aid

Hot dogs

Cocoa Puffs

Sliced cheese

Baby food since you think I’m a child (just kidding, don’t be mad)

whatever chips you got with that salsa the one time

My milk— not that skim shit you drink

Your milk— the skim shit

Mac n Cheese

“What kind of a fucking list is this? Most of this shit is snacks.”

“Oh for fucks sake, what are you pissed about now?” Eddie says, dumping two bags of marshmallows into the cart.

You’ve never met a twenty-six year old that ate like he was dining at Willy Wonka’s Factory every night.

“Not a single fruit or vegetable!” You say, waving the list in his face.

“I smoke green, I don’t eat it. Unless you wanna make some pot brownies, I’d eat the shit out of those.” He throws a box of brownie mix into the cart for good measure.

You yank the cart from his hands and turn around, heading back to the produce aisle. He huffs when you place a paper bag of apples neatly in the cart, whines when the bananas sit by your purse, and almost passed out when the tomatoes and a head of lettuce make their way into the cart.

“You’re such a baby! Literally an overgrown man child in the flesh.” He’s walking in front of you mimicking you and whoops! The cart may have slipped out of your hands and made a fleeting dash towards his Achilles tendon, banging against.

“Ouch, Jesus Christ!” Eddie groans under his breath, holding his leg he glares towards you, shooting daggers.

“It slipped,” you smirk.

He scoffs and turns on his heel walking away. You finish in the produce aisle, looking through the boxes of noodles and calculating what you could make for dinner this week. Eddie comes back arms full, you only see his hair sticking out on each side of the three boxes of cereal, a 10 lb ham and seven tubes of cinnamon rolls. He drops them all into the cart with a heavy thud.

After crossing everything off the list and getting a few more things despite Eddie’s protesting exhales, you have a cart full. He seems to have calmed down by the time you make it to the beer fridge, taking two thirty packs of Busch Light and putting them on the bottom of the cart, he rips the side of one of them open and takes a can out. Cracking it open in the middle of the store, downing it. The light colored lager is spilling down his chin, into the collar of his open shirt. He tosses it into a lady’s cart as she’s walking past, wiping the foam from his lips and belching loudly.

You roll your eyes, “You can’t wait until we’re home?”

“What?” He says, looking at you with a stupid grin, “I’m gonna pay for it.”

Waiting in the checkout aisle he cracks another one as he unloads the groceries onto the conveyor belt with one hand. Tossing most of the items onto the belt and grabbing another beer and chugging it. The checkout lady puts her nose in the air and huffs a disapproving grunt.

“I was thirsty.”

“You’re so imp—” your insult is cut short when your eyes sweep over him.

It had been a full two years since you had seen him last. His blonde hair was combed to the side like it always was. The blue of his icy eyes still burned holes through you like dry ice to the exposed skin. The navy blue suit jacket and white Oxford shirt with a red patterned tie and the tan khakis he was wearing suggested he was coming from a late Sunday brunch after church. Awful crippling memories of spending hours ironing those pants to make sure the creases were perfect cloud your memory, you unconsciously hold the two fingers on your left hand, the ones that held misshaped triangle burn scars.

You don’t realize that Eddie is talking or that you’ve stopped moving until the shape of his curly head shakes in front of you. Your breath is hitched in your chest, you feel small. Physically and mentally.

Two years without seeing the face that was the sole purpose of most of the fear in your life. Two years without seeing the demon grin and crazy twitch in his eye. You were frozen in place and your blood ran cold.

It was evil in its truest form. Standing in the checkout behind you— stood Chad Cunningham.

Eddie couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on. Putting the grocery sacks in the cart, he turns to look in your line of vision. He doesn’t recognize him at first. But the strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes ran in the Cunningham blood. He was with a woman, who was so obviously pregnant she seemed like she was about to burst. Judging from the horrific way your eyes were bulged out of your head and the way your body was almost catatonic, Eddie figured it was time to get the fuck out of here. Reaching in his pocket for his wallet he paid the cashier and impatiently waited for the change, keeping his eyes on you.

You were trembling with fear. Not from the sudden run in with an ex but something much deeper than that. Eddie places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “let’s go sweetheart,” he whispers gently, he crowds behind you and puts a small hand on your back, guiding you forward towards the automatic doors. Eddie keeps his head on a swivel for Chad.

The woman who was with him was waddling towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving your body. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Chad puffed out his chest and said, “Lookin’ good honey bun, I will say though, the downgrade,” he points to Eddie, “..yikes.”

The nickname made your skin crawl. You never liked it, and he knew that. He only said it to get a rise out of you, which was successful. “See you soon,” he gloated, smiling with perfectly straight teeth, eyes never meeting his smile.

You don’t make it five feet outside before the shock wears off and the tears stream down your face in salty waves. Eddie takes control of the cart with his left hand and ushers you forward with his right, minimal pressure on the small of your back as he keeps his head on a swivel, dark curtain of curls crowding his eyes as he moves his head around.

Unlocking the doors he helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and saying he’d be back in thirty seconds. The back doors of the van fly open as Eddie all but tosses the groceries into the back. At thirty seconds exactly, Eddie is back in the van, starting it and roaring out of the parking lot.

He still didn’t know what happened with Chad, but it wouldn’t take an absolute idiot to know that it was bad. Really fucking bad. He looks over to you and your head is stuffed into your shirt, your knees under your chin and you’re rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Five minutes, Tooty— we’ll be home in less than five minutes, okay?” Eddie says, frantically. He’s trying to stay calm. Trying to be the voice of reason, composed and serene. But he is horrified. Scared to death at how you responded to seeing Chad. How your body froze up and your face looked as if you weren’t breathing. Even now, hearing you gasp for air as your body shook and swayed with each turn he made. He slams on the gas, pausing slightly at stop signs and ignoring any yield signs.

He parks in the driveway, coming around to help you out of the van. Just like he did last night, he carries you, only this time you remember it. Your body is shaking violently, chest racked with sobs. His chest is wet with tears from your face being buried into it. He’s whispering to you that everything will be okay. Opening the door he kicks it shut with his boot. He brings you into your room and sits you on your bed, you’re cradled in his lap, like a parent would hold a child. He caresses your head, holding you closer to him. His warm breath in your hair grounds you. You feel him lean forward grabbing on your nightstand for something, the phone.

He dials the number without even thinking. Waiting impatiently on the other end as a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?” Steve breathes boredly into the phone.

Eddie sighs with relief, “Harrington, it’s me.”

“Oh God, listen dude I don’t know what to te—“

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie interrupts, “listen—something, happened.”

Steve almost chokes on his popcorn, frantically firing off questions. “What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“Ye—no, I mean—“ Eddie is stuttering and trying to explain, “we ran into Chad at the gro—“

“I’m on my way!”

The line goes dead and Eddie hears dial tone. He sets the phone back in the holder and wraps a blanket around you. Your heart is racing and you can’t even form words. You haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. It feels like the world is crashing in on you, the walls are tight and shrinking, the whole room feels smaller by the minute. Eddie’s voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” He murmurs, “try to match your breathing with mine.” He remembers what he was taught as a kid. His emotions always ran high and Wayne would have to settle him down, get him to take deep breaths.

He’s rubbing soft circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth. You try to speak but all that comes out are gasps and the whirling noise of sharp intake of breath.

Steve and Robin make it to the house in record time, running to your room and taking everything in. Your disheveled appearance brings Steve to his knees in front of Eddie. Grabbing your hand and squeezing letting you know it was going to be okay.

You slide off Eddie’s lap and lay on the bed, curled in a ball. Robin lays beside you. Brushing your hair from your face with her fingers.

Steve pulls Eddie out of your room with great force he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry— fuck man, I’m sorry for calling you — I just— she just locked up. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t move!” He runs his hands down his face, trying to will the tears away. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, give yourself a break, you got her home, she’s safe,” Steve says patting Eddie on the back, “so explain what happened.”

Eddie begins explaining from when you both got to the grocery store. He goes into detail how distraught you seemed, how your body was rigid and full of fear. The burn of tears threatening to spill from his eyes has him blinking quick before they fall. Steve listens intently, face warped with shock and disbelief.

Throwing his head back and running his hands down his face Steve lets out a loud exhale and throws his hands on his hips, “fuck I hate that guy.”

“Yeah he seems like a fucking psycho,” Eddie agrees, “but what the fuck is going on?! I mean yeah they dated but, I don’t stiff up like that when I run into Chrissy or Trish.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks of how upset you were, your body crumbling with fear the minute you made it into the van. Anxiety trickling through your body like electricity to a wire. He hated to admit it but he was scared for you.

Remembering the groceries in the back of the van, the two guys brave the sweltering heat to retrieve them. Eddie starts to put the items away, Steve rolls his eyes watching him put the canned items in the small cabinet designed for spices, the endless snacks he purchased thrown on the counter nestled up against the flour canister and slamming the lettuce into the fridge like a bowling ball.

Eddie could give a rats ass where the things went, he was worried and getting a headache from wondering if you were going to be okay. Half thinking he should find where good ol Chad lived and pay him a nice little visit. Only three tires slashed and the insurance won’t cover it.

Throwing the groceries sacks in the garbage and making his way to the living room, sitting down on the couch, he sits with his elbows on his knees, bouncing them in quick repetitions. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or should I put a paper fortune teller on my fingers and we can decide what’s wrong with Tooty with the help of crayola markers?”

The wailing cries and sobs have dissipated in the last half hour, only Robin’s soothing words can be heard now.

“Dude, it’s not my place to say,” Steve says, “it’s one thing to tell you about her parents and Kevin, but this—“ he takes another deep breath, running his hands through his thick tufts of hair, “this is 100 times worse than that,” Steve explains lowering his head.

“…But you’re right, you’re her roommate and you should know what happened.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, silently agreeing with everything Steve had said. Standing quickly and pacing around the living room, his mind is running a million miles a minute. The fight you two had didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered to him in this moment— the only thing on his mind for the past twelve hours— was you.

Steve stands and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his hands on the waist of the old fading green gym shorts he was wearing. “I’m gonna go talk to her, and when you guys are done, I’m gonna make you guys something to eat. I’m sure you idiots haven’t eaten today given the timing of when shit hit the fan.”

Eddie nods again, biting the fingernails on his right hand until they bled, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a teen, facing possible jail time for destructing private property when he spray painted, “Your mom swallowed EM’s monster cock” on the front doors of Hawkins High. He was pacing, itching for a cigarette. Pulling the pack from his flannel breast pocket he goes outside and sits on the concrete steps, lighting up.

Three squashed cigarette butts sit next to him on the step before Steve finds him. Eddie stands and stubs the cigarette out blowing smoke out of the crooked twist of his lips away from Steve’s face. The nicotine helped take the edge off but he was still anxious, fidgeting his rings.

“H-how is she?” Eddie asks apprehensively, “can I talk to her?”

“She’s better, taking deep breaths and relaxing as best as he can, she’s gonna explain everything, just give her space— let her talk and don’t ask anything until she’s finished.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.”

“Alright. Robin is gonna help me make supper,” Steve says holding opening the front door, face in a grimace he jokes, “wish me luck.”

Eddie was the one who thought he himself needed the luck, he was scared shitless that you were afraid of him.

He walks gently to your room and knocks softly on the door with one knuckle, palm facing him. He remembers just hours ago how he was standing at this very door, and how very different he felt then.

“Come in,” Robin chirps.

Eddie takes a quick breath holding it as he steps foot into your room. You’re sitting on your bed cross legged, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes are red rimmed and tissues surrounding you, a cemetery of drying tears. You look at him and muster a smile, a twitch of your lips raising at the corners.

“Well, I’m needed as a sous chef in kitchen a la Harrington,” Robin says brightly, standing from the bed and skipping towards the door. When she passes Eddie she touches his arm squeezing and giving him a reassuring nod.

Eddie stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the door clicks shut. You both don’t say anything for a while, you’re twirling the end of the pillowcase in your lap and he’s burning holes with his eyes into the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you say quietly, “I’m—“ your voice catches in your throat, sore from the the wailing, “I’m hoping that when I’m done telling you, you’ll be able to understand..”

He nods and leans against the wall. Hands wrapped around his triceps.

“Before I explain— I just need you to know that only Robin, Steve, Nancy, and her parents know about this— not my parents, or Kev or anyone else— and now you.

Eddie’s face is full of concern, he whispers an “okay,” and you continue.

“I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure that you and Chrissy started dating around the same time that Chad and I did, and as you remember I’m sure, Chad and I were together almost all the time. When you graduated, and my sophomore year was the year my parents moved away— things changed with him. He was suddenly callous about everything, needing control of who I was with and when. Mostly he was pissed that I was staying with the Wheeler’s. He always thought I was cheating on him with Mike.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, the Mike Wheeler he knew wouldn’t know what to do if a chick laid butt naked in his bed. Probably piss himself.

You work the corner of the pillow case in your fingers as you keep going, “The first time he hit me was on a night that I told him I couldn’t hang out because Mrs. Wheeler wanted everyone home for supper. He called me a slut and told me that I should just go and fuck Mike already even though he knew I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker with anger when you admit that Chad hit you, his fists clenched together tightly. With your head down and looking away from him you continue, your voice wobbly.

“We didn’t even have sex yet, at that time, I wasn’t ready. After he hit me, I thought we should break up. He followed me around, begging me to take him back and like the naive kid that I was, I did. He would be sweet for a few weeks, and then it was like a flip would switch and he’d back hand me for giving Lucas a pencil during History, pulled my hair out in chunks when Mike brought me to school, he even choked me until I passed out when Dustin sat next to me at lunch. He was extremely jealous of everyone around him, and couldn’t handle seeing anyone he didn’t ‘approve of’ be near me. He hated that I worked at Family Video, he would show up almost every shift and wait in the store for me to clock out, even threatening to kick Steve’s ass on more than one occasion. He finally gave up on that when I told him Steve was dating Robin, just so I could go to work in peace.”

Eddie’s gut is rolling, the anger boiling in his blood, his nostrils are flared, it is taking everything in him to not react the way he wants to, a simple trailer park style beating to Chad’s car, his face, whatever would hurt the little prick more. Heads would fucking roll if Eddie ever got ahold of him.

“It didn’t end there. Like I said, we weren’t having sex because I wasn’t ready, I had enough shit going on with my parents up and leaving and buying all the concealer that Melvald’s carried to cover up the bruises.”

You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears for as long as you could. Chewing the inside of your lip and un crossing your legs, bringing your knees to your chest you continue.

“Af—After prom our junior year, we were driving around and he was drinking, I just wanted to go home but he didn’t. He parked way outside of town on the south side, on some dead end road… I mouthed off to him about how cliche it was to lose our virginities on prom night and the next thing I knew,” your voice pitches to a high volume, your lips are tight as you remember the pain you felt in your head from him knocking you out, the way his hands were groping your body, “I was waking up to him on top of me, and inside of me.”

The dam breaks, the tears fall from your eyes like rain in the spring time. You throw your head back against your headboard and sniff loudly, your palms pressed to your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid if he tried to comfort you it would only cause you more pain. Against his better judgment he stands and walks towards the bed, scooting across the lavender bedspread he sits across from you, reaching for your ankle and tenderly squeezing it, letting you know that he was there.

“I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life then when I was dating him,” you sniffle and reach for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly, “Eddie, this went on for years, it didn’t fucking stop. After senior year, he didn’t want me to go to college, because I would be too far away from him, and we argued and he kicked me out on the opposite side of town with two swelling black eyes. By the time I made it back to the Wheeler’s, my eyes were almost shut. That night, I told Ted and a very hysterical, Karen everything, and they called the cops. Of course, Tim Cunningham was the state prosecutor at the time, so it didn’t go far— Hop did what he could but there was never any judgment made against Chad, and everything was over after that.”

“I went to beauty school with Nance, and when we moved back home, I was living in the little apartments off of Sawmill Road, he found out where I was and broke in, luckily Steve and Robin were my neighbors so they heard everything and came running before he could hurt me.

“After that.. Ted and Karen bought this place for Nancy and I and last year I saved up enough and bought it from them. Last I heard, Chad had moved to Indianapolis and was working for his uncle at the law firm until he finished school. I haven’t seen him in over two years— anyway,” you finish, wiping your eyes, and blowing your nose once more, “that’s the story.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to begin, he partially is taking the blame for what happened to you, knowing that if he were there, if he had stuck it out with Chrissy maybe he could have seen the signs, maybe he could have stopped it before it ever started, maybe he could have put that little fucker in his place and made him think twice about ever touching you again. He’s full of regret, full of shame and turmoil as he thinks about how you must have been feeling this morning.

“Oh, Tooty.” Eddie starts his eyes glistening with wetness, heart aching for you, “I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ, I— I don’t even… Fuck! I should have been around.”

“There wasn’t anything anyone could have done— he’s a lunatic.” You take a breath and look down at his hand on your ankle, abandoning the thought of reaching for it at the last minute, “I know you would never do something to hurt me, or anyone— I’m sorry about last night Eddie. I just, I don’t ever get drunk enough to not remember what happened. Not after the shit I’ve been through. ” You fold your arms into your self, wrapping around your ribs, in a small voice you whisper, “and today when I couldn’t remember, I was fucking terrified—going right back to how I felt that night when I was sixteen.”

In the van today, he fully intended on chewing you out, making you feel about three inches tall. He had been accused of many different things during his teenage years. Hell he even spent a night or two in jail after fighting a guy in Indianapolis when he threw a beer at Gareth. But one thing Wayne taught him was to respect women. Sure he wasn’t the average guy, his lever leaned a little further towards pervert than most. But he would never hurt a woman. The way you looked right now scared him. Like you were afraid to be near him. Unsure if he would scream at you or worse. And it broke his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward, finger dipping under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking right at him. A fresh brim of tears clung to your lashes, “as long as I’m here, being the thorn in your side, pain in the ass, good looking mother fucker that I am— you don’t ever have to be scared again.”

You shutter, body exhausted and giving in, letting the tears fall.

“Promise?”

Your doe eyes are wet and staring into his, the swirling chocolate of his eyes, melted as he looks into your soul. Shedding any walls around his heart, baring himself of his discretions, his eyes are deeper than the galaxy. You swear you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. You can feel your frigid heart thawing for the first time in years.

“Always.”

You never thought a single word could have so much meaning, a sense of security washed over you with Eddie’s promising word. A silent devotion from his eyes of keeping you safe and out of harm's way. You felt your soul open up to him. A higher power bringing you closer to him. You reach down and grab his hand. Rubbing the rough knuckles and tracing the rings on his fingers. An angel’s smile dances on Eddie’s lips. He decides right there, in that moment, that he would be whatever you needed. For as long as you needed him. Because he needed you.

///

///

SEE YOU IN VOLUME VI

a/n: hope you enjoyed this, it was a little rough but the next chapter is pure fluff 💋

[bougiebutchbinch]

Im so so so so so sorry but I feel like this is the equivalent to a confession box and Im too prideful to face Father Wagner with my sins.

So. Father tripple B please accept my newest thought.

We all know that Logans happy trail isn't a trail but a whole road, a freeway if you will, from his head, down his neck, to his chest, down his abdomen, down between his legs, its all a straight shot, connected. Yeah? Okay?

Hey- Stay on point. Stop thinking about Logans inner thigh hair- Pay attention.

So Wade dosn't have any hair. "Peach fuzz and he can't even grow it." Ahh mfer. What he does have is stomach problems. Stomach problems that leads to stomach aches. As someone who lives with someone who has had stomach cancer, Wade would have intense pain and cramps when digesting glutinous foods such as thick pizza or pancakes. Glucose and Protien would be his best friends. Fuck milk. Fuck fiber, fuck gluten, fuck everything else on this food pyramid.

Weeellll.... I keep thinking about them cuddling on the couch, watching a random movie because his stomach hurts so badly, he's just- dead. A replica of the imfamous melting clock painting, a whining mess completely slumped against him, trying his best to ignore the peircing feeling deep in his gut as he tries his best to digest dinner.

Subconsiously, unprovoked, and not asked, Logan starts mindlessly rubbing his stomach, lazily massasing the muscle and gripping his loose thin skin. He pushes up and gropes the sides, almost oblivious to what he's doing because here's Wade, absolutely putty in his hands.

The way those big paws of his caress and knead at him feels too good, small pleased groans coming from him as Logan has his waist secure in one arm, the weight only adding to the secure feeling.

When he stops, Wade only puts his hand back, shifting to nuzzle his scruffy cheek and encouraging him to put pressure and press upwards with his full hand's girip until he eventually drifts off into a loud as fuck flu like snore that becomes music to Logan's ears.

This also works if ftm Wade because he loves when hes sitting on Logan's lap, reverse cowboy, soaking/cock warming him as Logan feels his own bulge inside of Wade's stomach. 👁👄👁

🤭Telling him how good it feels to be stuffed and Logan telling him how gorgeous he is with him in him like this. Sometimes, they just sit like this for a bit. Logan rubbing over him so much that it not only feels great, but every time he dozes off, logan bucks his hips up. "Shows not over, bub." He tells him, teasing him.

Wade's so warm. So happy. So.. chilled the fuck out, cuddly and for some reason, Logan rubbing his thighs and his stomach drives him just insane enough to obey his every command.

Oh, it's so not fair. Wade's so milky. So ready. So.. tired. And Wolvie won't fuck him OR let him go to sleep. But the thing is, he's drawing him out, trying to get him his max cozy so he will sleep awhile. Going as far as sharing a few blunts with him, blowing smoke in his face playfully and kising him with smoke in his mouth, letting him take big puffs until his body does numb with just how chilled out he is.

When he finally does let him sleep, Logan dosn't move, watching another shitty movie and habing a cigar, drinking some water, rubbing his stomach a bit softer now, whispering how cute his stupid ass was only to fuck him over of the arm of this couch and press him into it the moment he woke up, his viens twitching inside of that hot cunt like wade was sitting on a thrown... maybe he should get him a tiara.. dub him the best pussy in all the land or something corney like that..

Anyway. Goodnight, i'm tired. You're welcome for those thoughts.

PS, I learned what soaking was because of you, so this is your responsibility now. At least you get Thought-Support, though. Here. It's your weekend.

stares at this

stares at this

👁️🫦👁️

haha I'm normal. I'm normal. I'm n o r m a l :said with teeth gritted while clutching the arms of my chair:

in short - yes. YES. use that silly little clown as a cockwarmer as part of his healthcare plan.... he needs to relax thoroughly into subspace so he can get a good night's sleep - and what better way than for him to be slid down real gentle onto Wolvie's cock/strap like it's a throne and then have Logan whispering in his ear about what a good boy he is, while stroking his tumtum and working him soooooo gently into a haze of pleasure....

I want this for him so bad. It would fix him, I think ❤️

[rockyteriyaki]

TEAM BUILDING ACTIVITIES 👯

s/o to @powerful-owl for starting this meme and @disarmd for the insanely funny contribution, it’s such a delightful thought exercise! here’s my attempt:

MASCOTS!

american sports have hella mascots, so every team is tasked to create a marketable mascot that could represent them for u.s fans. they also have to build a little model to pitch the concept. there’s the williams whale sharks. the aston martin martinis. lando and oscar devise a walking papaya named penny who looks so much like a vulva oscar backs out almost instantly.

GUESS THE GRID based on clothing choices: drivers assemble an outfit they’d wear and then everyone else tries to guess who picked what. the catch is that the f1a girls did the same challenge and their answers are mixed in as well. everybody thinks doriane’s mercedes-themed picks are george’s and maya gets confused for charles even though there’s no ferrari branding to be seen. chloe’s picked a haas cap with a black skirt and we watch nico hulkenberg go through every emotion known to man trying to figure out why kevin would—???

(meanwhile the academy grid is absolutely ripping everybody’s style choices to shreds, accusing hamda of being the most basic bitch on the planet bc max chose to wear basketball shorts, etc)

PADDOCK SCAVENGER HUNT

5 teams are in on it and the other 5 can’t know what’s going on, otherwise they lose points. charles pretends that he’s too tired to walk when pierre catches him searching the top of a cabinet on carlos’ shoulders. oscar distracts williams while lando tries to get a picture of logan with red, white and blue objects in the background. yuki gets stranded on top of the rbr motorhome because daniel won’t stop using him for reconnaissance and the whole thing gets called off because max sees them squabbling on the roof and thinks the rapture has arrived.

GEORGE AND ALEX MAKE GRAPHICS

ib george’s natural talent for graphic design. the audience gets to see what a communications team actually does in motorsport (educational!) and george and alex get free reign of the entire library of press photos of eachother. george is hunting for a terrible picture of alex to edit onto a podium but ends up having a very verbal crisis about how none of the pap shots are appropriately bad and then spends the next half an hour digging himself into theeee deepest hole talking about how it’s just not as FUNNY if alex looks TOO GOOD on the podium! it would be UNFAIR! alex is squirming and trying to remember where tf he was planning on going with this zoomed-in great-gatsby-esque picture of george’s eyelids on his screen right now. george silently edits alex’s teeth out of his mouth and tries to erase the fact that he just called alex handsome like 47 times.

MARIO KART SIM RACING

im talking full immersion. sherbet land is ice fucking cold. every time they drive over some kind of giant clock or railroad or something the sim porpoises like a jackhammer. someone is standing behind them with a full tank of water for the splash sections. there’s a legitimate epilepsy warning at the start of the video. bowser puts the fear of god into lando norris.

MAX AND DANIEL DO TEMPORARY TATTOOS

i’m hesitant to allow them access to a bowl of water but i have an extremely clear vision of daniel slapping tats all over the blank spaces on his skin to the point where they overlap and he’s just got shiny plasticky tattoo skin everywhere. max would find this unappealing and also stupid until he realizes all the fake tattoos on his side of the table are replicas of daniel’s actual ones. cut to: daniel with a snake tattoo stuck in his eyebrow hairs hiking his shorts up so max can mirror the placement on his own inner thigh. daniel resembling a concussed post malone, watching max’s careful application of the ‘3’ tattoo. max does a horrible aussie accent and daniel looks like a chimpanzee seeing its own reflection for the first time. cinema.

[gottalovetumbler]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 8

ᵏᵉᵉᵍᵃⁿ/ᵛᵉˡⁱᵏᵃⁿ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Info: Fem!Reader, Lots of cussing this chapter, also some angst, maybe?, idk, idc

——— 💧:( ———

Anger was a nasty itch that’s impossible to scratch without revenge, everyone knew that. Annoyance though? Annoyance was a parasite. It clung to a host and slowly made its way through the nervous system, making itself known every inch it grew.

That, that is why you’ve been holed up in your room for just about four days straight. You and Nikolai ended up bickering the whole drive (2 minutes) back to base. It was kinda fun at first but eventually he began getting under your skin. Saying shit with a purposefully thicker accent that had you confused and Captain Price chuckling. If there’s one thing you fucking hate, it’s being the butt of a joke you don’t get.

Sure, Val, Rudy and Ale teased you, hell they grilled you for almost 30 minutes straight to tell them who had the worst accent. (It’s definitely Rudy but you didn’t wanna hurt his feelings so you stayed silent) But Atleast you were in on the joke. It had even felt nice, like you were with not just friends but family again. Where you don’t have to be ashamed of your struggles understanding because instead of a flaw, they see it as a part of you.

But that fucking asshole Nikolai. Purposefully making remarks that only he and Price knew and laughing straight in your face after. No remorse, just amusement. To be honest though, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Captain Price didn’t even try and help you.

He’s the one that brought the damn thing up in the first place and then, he left you to burn. You and him weren’t the closest ever, you knew that. But still, not only had you known him for a decent time, he’s also a Captain. A superior. And he essentially let you get bullied right in his back seat.

Ok well not bullied, that’s a bit overdramatic. But it still stung. What stung more though was honestly just the fact that it had bothered you so much. Like you don’t even know the man’s first name for fucks sake and here you are upset that he wasn’t backing you up? Fucking pathetic.

So that would be why your holes up in your room. Calling out of your shifts was easy enough, using the “just got out of the hospital” excuse really worked. And luckily, due to laziness, you have a 24 pack of water and enough snacks so you haven’t had to leave your room at all. Thank God for connected bathrooms too.

The clock reads 19:35 when the banging starts up on your door, again. For the past 3, now 4, days straight at exactly 19:35, Johnny has come around and tried getting you out of your room. The first day he was sympathetic.

‘A'm sorry bonnie. He kin be an arsehole sometime’. Ah promise he didnae mean anythin' by it. We all think yer fear is adorable, na no one ever mak's fun o' ye fur it. Ah promise.’

‘BULLSHIT!’ You had yelled back, that was the first and only time you’ve responded since. Was this a stupid hill to die on? Yes, yes it was. Are you still gonna die on it? Yes, yes you are.

Over the days he grew more and more impatient and it seems today he’s gotten to the banging and yelling stage. Yelling about how he and Gaz really miss you. And the Rudy keeps asking about you, he, Val and Ale are on a mission somewhere right now, and that of your still locked up when he gets back he’s breaking down the door.

The only reason Soap hasn’t done that exact thing yet is the fact that if he did, he’d be automatically terminated and dishonorably discharged. Seeing as you willingly talk to the medical staff, a break in couldn’t be excused by a supposed “wellness check”

He finally stops trying at 20:15, promising to be back at the same time the next day. Swearing that he’ll wear you down, no matter what. And so as sleep pills on your eyelids, you tuck in and pass out.

It’s only 2:45 when you wake, confused as to why you glance around and freeze. Standing in the far right corner of your room is a man, not moving, not speaking, just standing. You’re about to scream when the carpet to your left crunches. Slowly you look over and there’s a second man, of course there fucking is, standing maybe 2 feet away, also staring.

OH MY FUCKING GO-

‘You’re fine.’

I’m sorry,’What?’

‘I said, you’re fine. We aren’t going to do anything to you, just making sure you’re breathing.’

The man standing 2 feet away removes his weird as goggles things as he crouches down to your level.

‘See Vel, told you she’s fine. Now you can tell psychopath 1 and 2 to fuck off.’

With that he stands and makes his way to the door. The man in the far corner follows, not speaking a word. As he steps out of the shadows you see he’s also wearing a mask, one with a sharp-toothed mouth decorating the front.

‘I’m sorry but what the fuck was that?’

‘Like I said kid, just makin sure you’re alive. Now when you wake back up ima couple hours, leave the damn room and show everyone else you’re alive. If you don’t, I’m gonna send him,’ he juts his thumb to the silent Vel, ‘and you don’t want him to come and get you. Now have a good night and i better see you at lunch at the latest. I wanna watch as Nikolai and John apologize. It’ll be like watching the sun explode, once in a life time.’

With that, both men exit and shut your door, somehow relocking it from the outside. Welp, Atleast you now know another fellow American. Bringing the grand to total toooooo…. 3.

——— 💧:( ———

[sillyrandomwriter]

hello hello, gingerbread here, back with another angsty scenario that leads to guitarspear hurt/comfort!

let's say this is modern au, though it could work for hellaverse as well. i prefer this as a modern au hc though.

say this scenario takes place before adam and lute realize their feelings for each other. like, they're just friends with benefits, and lute's spending the night at the house like she usually does. the kids are with their other parents (lucifer, lilith, and eve). adam already knows he's in love with lute but he's too stubborn to actually do anything about it. and we've all agreed on the fact that adam has abandonment issues, right? right.

so, with that being said:

Adam has a nightmare about Lute leaving him and he wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He checks the time---it's four o' clock in the morning. He's frantic and panicky, his heart is beating a mile a minute, and his breathing is unsteady. He knows he just woke up, but he feels like he's about to pass out. What is this? Why is he so anxious? Why won't his mind just slow down? Why is he like this?? It was just a stupid dream, why is he-- WHY THE FUCK IS HE CRYING?! Crying is weak, he's strong, he's a man, men don't cry, he can't cry, he can't be weak, he can't be vulnerable. Why is he still crying, why--- "Adam?" Lute says groggily. She's tired, why is Adam awake still..- She freezes. So does Adam. They stare at each other for a moment. "Adam..?" Lute says again, concerned. Is he crying?

Adam sniffs. "Uh.. haha.. oh! You're... still here. Right, I forgot. My bad if I woke you up. Go back to bed, nothing's wrong," he says in a tone that implies that something is definitely wrong.

Lute quickly but cautiously goes over to him and hops onto the bed. Adam is covering his face in embarrassment. He doesn't want Lute to see him like this.

"Adam, what's going on with you?" Lute asks. Her voice is soft but firm. It's kinda comforting, actually. Adam looks up from his hands at Lute. She's looking back at him worriedly. Adam notices how pretty she looks. She's so... fuck, she's so hot. Shit. Fuck. No, Adam, don't spiral, not in front of her, stop being like this you--

Lute hugs him. Adam is taken aback. But he's not complaining.

He hugs her back tight. They stay like this for a little while.

"Are you alright now?" Lute finally decides to ask. Adam nods, looking away. He's glad that it's too dark to see any actual colors, because his face must be tomato red. "Do you wanna tell me what caused this?" Lute inquires. Adam stays silent. Lute nods. "Fine by me. Good night, Adam," she says, getting up.

Before she can leave, she feels a light tug on her arm. Lute turns around.

"Uh.. stay," Adam says bluntly. He looks up. They make eye contact. "Please?"

Lute's heart skips a beat. They sleep together that night. Literally, not sexually.

...

sooooo what do we think of this? yay or nay?

i have read all of this but all i can say is that this is a certified yay. i now have the urge to write a oneshot on ao3 about this but its too early by the time im answering this

[helpimstuckposting]

Advice

Song: Advice by Cavetown

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Playlist

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z

—

Eddie wasn’t unfamiliar with bad days. In fact, he’d say he was intimately familiar with them. Biblically, even, since they’d fucked him so often. And usually he was able to adjust, to improvise, to calm down and save any serious outbursts for the privacy of his own bedroom. Or van, depending on how truly awful the day was.

Today, he didn’t make it to his room, or to the van. Instead, he walked right out of his last class of the day and trudged straight to the picnic table in the woods behind the school. He figured he had around twenty minutes to get his anger out before someone tramped along looking to buy weed. He was too wired to sit, so he set his little black lunchbox on the table, and started pacing back and forth to try and relieve some pent up energy.

He was off to a rough start from the second his alarm went off. Or didn’t go off, in the case of that morning. Somehow, the stupid electricity in the trailer had gone out at some point in the middle of the night and reset the clocks, making Eddie an hour late to the start of his day. He’d skipped breakfast, and forgot his smokes in the process which meant that all of his teachers were more unbearable than usual.

Then, he skipped lunch to run across the street and buy a pack from the convenience store to take the edge off, but apparently his dad was in town because the man behind the counter had called him Junior with that face people made when they treated him like shit splattered across their shoes. If Al was in town that meant either he hadn’t bothered to check in on his son, or Wayne was keeping it from him and both options pissed Eddie off.

On top of that, Mrs. Click had lost his essay and then claimed he’d never turned it in which was bullshit because Eddie knew for a fact he’d turned it in on time, he’d stayed up all night writing it. In between classes, someone had graffitied “Satanist Freak” on his locker, which normally wouldn’t bother Eddie at all but then he’d gotten yelled at to clean it up, like anyone would think he wrote it himself. The authority figures in this batshit town were driving him insane.

As if that weren’t fucking enough Tommy goddamn Hagan (who Eddie was pretty sure had written the little love letter on his locker) had deliberately poured his entire water bottle on Eddie’s lap in the middle of class, and then played it off as an accident to the teacher. He’ll probably get detention for ditching after that, but Eddie was fucking exhausted. Why him? Why did everything have to hit the fan all at once? Couldn’t he just have one bad thing happen per day? He’d take one bad thing a day for the rest of his life over all the shit piled on top of him in the last seven hours.

And! Eddie was sure the fact that his father was in town would bite him even harder in the ass until the son a bitch left again. He couldn’t stand the thought of going home to see his smarmy fucking face after the last time he was in town and conned Eddie out of his savings and the contents of his lunchbox. It was fucking ludicrous that the town hated him for his father when Eddie got the worst end of the stick his whole life. At least the other people could avoid him, could walk away or, hell, even call the cops on the bastard if they wanted. Eddie couldn’t ever get away from him. Every time Eddie even looked at a mirror, Al Munson looked back.

He could feel the buzzing adrenaline bubbling up behind his eyes, stabbing its claws into his sinuses. His hands shook as he tugged them through his hair and he could not let this shitty day make him cry. He wasn’t going to let the town win, let his teacher and Tommy win, let Al Munson win. He clenched his stupid shaking hands into fists and dug his nails in as hard as he could, trying to steady his breathing, but it didn’t work. He could feel the build up behind his eyes and all the shitty events of the day clogging his throat like it was strangling him from the inside.

He let out a frustrated yell, grabbing his lunchbox from the table and using all of his energy to chuck it across the little clearing, across the lunch table, and straight into a tree. It smashed against the bark with a rattle, hitting the ground without even breaking the latch. Eddie knew the thing wouldn’t break, though it might have been sporting a few new scratches and a dent. It made him feel a little better, though. Maybe he could understand why someone would do sports. Maybe. Sometimes.

“Damn, you ever try shot put?” a voice called out through the clearing.

Eddie whipped his head around to find the king himself, Steve Harrington sauntering towards the picnic table. Schools out then, he thought, grumbling in his mind like a child. Of course The King would need to stock up, it was a Friday after all.

“With an arm like that, you’d do pretty well,” he added when Eddie didn’t respond.

“I don’t know what the fuck shop put is, but I’m not in the mood, Harrington,” Eddie called back, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping a boot onto the wooden bench next to him. The second he did, he felt like an idiot, like some kind of alpha-male posturing to seem tougher. He put his foot back on the ground.

“It’s shot put, it’s… never mind,” Steve cut himself off. “Anyway… uh.” He looked nervous, rubbing his hands awkwardly before shoving them into the pockets of his pristine blue jeans. It eased some of the tension in Eddie’s shoulders. He wanted to laugh. He made the king nervous, made him look a bit scared, even. It was comical. Wayne would think it was downright hilarious.

“What do you want, Harrington?” Eddie called. The King was still standing by the treeline, a good few yards of space between them.

“Do you have any joints left? Maybe a baggie of flower or something?” he responded. Eddie rolled his eyes. The royal court was predictable, as always.

“Like I said, I’m really not in the mood.”

“I’ll pay extra,” Steve added, shrugging his shoulders. Eddie paused, contemplating the offer. He did need the money, he always needed the money, and he knew Harrington was good for it. Eddie could probably double the price and The King wouldn’t even bat an eye.

He sighed, glancing at his toppled lunch box on the ground. Eddie rolled his eyes, deciding the money was worth more than his peace and quiet. He cracked his neck before trudging over to the black metal box, noticing Steve’s flinch as he did. The boy tried to cover it, Eddie could tell, but he wasn’t quick enough and Eddie couldn’t quite hide his smirk as he snatched the lunchbox up and walked back to the table.

He sat down, placed the container on the rough wooden surface, and gestured to the bench opposite him. The King paused briefly before joining him, sitting down quietly and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

“How many joints?” Eddie asked.

“How many you got?”

He glanced into the lunchbox, stomach aching as he shoved the actual lunch aside to open the little metal Altoids tin. He had four joints left, a few less than Harrington’s usual haul, but enough. He gathered them all up, pulling out an empty baggie and wrapping the joins up tight. Eddie held up the baggie for Harrington to take before grabbing another, prepacked with an eighth of flower.

“Eighth or a quarter?” Eddie asked, grabbing a second baggie.

“You got a half?” Harrington asked, squinting a little like he was sheepish to ask the question. Eddie would have found it cute if he wasn’t so annoyed at that moment. He rolled his eyes instead.

“If I had a half, I would have asked, Princess,” he snapped. If Harrington had looked sheepish before, he looked downright contrite now. It made Eddie feel a little bad, but he held his glare without backing down. The world had been shit to him today, he didn’t have to care about hurting The Kings feelings.

“An eighth or a quarter ounce, Harrington?” he asked again.

“Quarter,” he mumbled. Eddie pulled both baggies out, holding them toward Harrington to take. He didn’t. Instead he looked from the baggies to Eddie’s face, eyes contemplating something and Eddie hoped like hell that Steve wouldn’t ask, but like everything else today, the world didn’t listen.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Eddie’s anger reared its ugly head again.

“I don’t want to talk, Harrington.”

“Are you sure? Because you kind of look like you need it. Are you okay?” he asked again.

“You want a hint?” Eddie snarked, snatching the baggies back. If His Highness wasn’t taking his gold then Eddie could keep it for himself for all he cared. “Are you hungry?” Eddie asked him.

Steve looked confused, his brows scrunching together like he was trying to connect the pieces of conversation that was running away from him.

“I… why?” he asked.

“Because you can eat my fucking shorts, Harrington. I said I don’t want to talk, so take the weed, leave the cash, and leave me the fuck alone,” Eddie spat, tossing the baggies between them on the table.

“I just mean, maybe I can help! Give you some advice or-“

“I know you’re trying to help, it’s very nice of you to pay your loyal subjects some attention but you don’t know anything about me, okay? I don’t need your advice, and I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Eddie gave up, decided this was a failed transaction and he should pack his shit and leave. He made a move to stand, reaching for the baggies on the picnic table, but he was beaten to the punch. Harrington grabbed the baggies out from under his hand, quickly tossing way too many bills on the wooden table. Forget double, Eddie’s pretty sure it was enough for a whole ounce. He stared, dumbfounded, at the cash in front of him and looked back up at Harrington. He was standing now, just a step away from the bench he’d been sitting on a second ago.

Eddie snatched the cash and tried to reign in his expression. He wasn’t really sure what his face was doing, couldn’t tell if he’d schooled it or not, but Harrington wasn’t giving anything away.

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, I swear.” He held a hand up, like Eddie was some kind of rabid animal Steve was trying to placate. “I just… I know what it feels like to not have anyone to talk to. So, like… if you need an ear-“

“I don’t ’need an ear’, Harrington, I need you to get out of my face, I need your court jester Tommy to leave me the fuck alone, and clean my locker while he’s at it! I need Mrs. Click to find my fucking essay because I’m already failing her class, and I need people in this godawful town to stop treating me like I’m just a clone of my father!” Eddie yelled. He huffed out a large breath, startled at his own outburst. By the glint in Steve’s eye, it was exactly what he’d been trying to pry out of Eddie. He looked pleased that he’d just been screamed at, and it just pushed all of Eddie’s buttons.

How the fuck did he even do that? They didn’t talk. Steve bought weed from him before his parties, and ignored him in the hallway. That was it. That’s all they ever were. So how the hell did he just get Eddie to tell him what was bothering him? Maybe the town was wrong, and they got the wrong witch when they put Eddie up on a pyre. He felt the sudden urge to yell ‘I saw Goody Harrington with the Devil!’. Somehow, he didn’t think that would make this conversation any better.

Eddie crossed his arms like a petulant child, and he couldn’t help but notice Steve slot his hands onto his hips like some kind of scolding housewife. Everything Harrington was doing made Eddie feel smaller and smaller.

“Just… leave me alone,” Eddie sighed, feeling deflated. “I don’t owe you anything, okay? You’re not my friend, you’re not my mom,” Eddie rolled his eyes and stared pointedly at Steve’s soccer mom stance. A blush bloomed across his cheeks, and Eddie watched as he took the hands off his hips and shoved them back into his pockets. Eddie couldn’t decide if Steve’s jeans were more dad jean or mom jean but he shook the thought from his head before he figured it out.

“Right… well,” Steve sighed, pulling a hand out of his pocket and patting it lightly on his thigh. Eddie had a sudden flash of Steve wearing horn rimmed glasses, saying ‘Welp, I better hit the road’, and Eddie couldn’t figure out when Steve had gone from King to Single Father during the span of their conversation. “Thanks for the… stuff,” Steve said awkwardly. Jesus Christ, Eddie needed to get a hold of himself and quickly. It was ridiculous how endearing he was finding this, and being weirdly attracted to a father figure act was not something he needed to be unpacking right now.

“Thanks for the cash,” Eddie said back, just as awkwardly tossing a salute in and immediately wanting to jump off a cliff. He needed to get out of here. Quickly, he packed up his lunchbox, tossing the cash inside before latching it shut. He turned back toward the direction of the school parking lot and prayed that Steve would let him go without another word. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it felt a lot like tucking his tail between his legs.

“See you next Friday!” Steve called out behind him.

Eddie was halfway back to the trailer before he realized the weight in his chest was significantly lighter than it had been all day. He tallied it up to Steve being in league with the devil. They’d go back to not speaking in the hallways, and he’d forget all about their conversation today, and that was it. Eddie just hoped he’d forget it too, and tried not to think about exactly how many witch’s marks Steve might have that Eddie couldn’t see.

—

This was inspired by me being unhinged and thinking of Steddie literally every single time a song came on from my playlist so I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could write 26 of them. If anyone wants to try this challenge, go for it! I just thought it would be fun. I linked the playlist above, and I might add or subtract songs to it depending on how I'm feeling

Tagging some people who might be interested or helped me out with picking songs! Thank you for the suggestions (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot @devondespresso @captncalamity @sluttysteddie @blahblah-hilariousname-blah @cringevalue @thereallifecath

[felinecryptid]

Helo ji thoda chaipunk milega?

Plij.

-apka naya pankha

Two hearts in a chest, it's ours

Pav stared at the clock, its second hand seemingly ticking slower and slower every dragging second, trying to keep his heavy eyes open.

There wasn't any villain out last night, no, nor did Hobie crash his precious beauty sleep, but this teacher was not making any sense with his stupid fucking chemical formulae for finding the mass percentage of whatever new substance he was talking about this time and Pav was wishing the fan over his head into falling on him.

His eyes drooped, as he sat with head balanced on his hand, in the semblance of a posture of utmost attention. Maybe he should just sleep, it wasn't like the teacher was going to notice anyway-

THUNK! came from the window on his left. He startled out of his seat, nearly tripping on the strap on his school bag, cursing under his breath and turned to see the offender.

There was nothing on the window sill. But Pav knew better than that. He stood up, pretending to look for his pen, and glanced over. Sure enough, the dark wicks of a certain spider punk was visible just below the sill.

"Excuse me sir, may I use the washroom?" Pav raised his hand. The teacher didn't even look at him as he nodded his yes, busy writing down measurements of fuck-if-he-knew, and Pav booked it out of there.

He turned left to the stairwell instead of right to the washrooms and descended down where the faulty surveillance cam overlooked the landing and the tiny window between the second floor and third floor. That cam worked in fits and starts; a red light indicated if it was working. To Pav's rare luck with it, there was no red light to be seen and he quickly vaulted out of the window, coming almost nose-to-nose with Hobie.

"What the fuck Hobie, why are you lurking like that?" Pav whisper-screamed, heart thudding mile a minute from the proximity. He could see Hobie's individual eyelashes from there. Pav's face heated up and he was thankful for the fact that a blush wasn't easily visible with his skin colour.

"'m not lurkin', mate, you're jus' distracted," Hobie replied with an easy smile, making Pav's stomach do funny somersaults. It was a common occurrence, and Pav tried his best to not let it get the best of him. With questionable success, because he frequently found himself daydreaming about Hobie, how his hair would feel through his fingers, the way his lips moved when he talked in that stupidly cute accent of his, the feelings he got with Hobie's arm around him. This was accompanied by doodling hearts around their names at the back of his notebooks, like he was not scared of the consequences of his teachers discovering the said artwork and calling home.

"Shut up," Pav said, his face still warmer than normal, because they hadn't moved apart for the entire duration of Pav's inner train of thought, much to his secret delight. "Why are you here at my school? Someone could have seen you!"

"I wan'ed to see my favourite li'l swot, so I came," He leant in closer, his voice deeper, "Can't I do tha'?"

Pav swallowed unconsciously. "You definitely can, but I have to get back to class, we're starting a new chapter."

"C'mon, love, you looked like you were moments away from conkin' out."

"I wasn't, I would never sleep in class."

"Mmhm, and 'm the next prime minister o' the Great Britain," Hobie sniggered and Pav punched him in the arm.

"I wasn't going to sleep, the class is just so boring!"

"All the more reason to skive off, I promise to not drone on and on to bore you to sleep," Hobie side-eyed him, the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin and Pav was gone. "What say?"

As if Pav could ever say no to Hobie, as if he could ever bore him, like Pav didn't feel like a live wire, humming with electricity when they were close, very close, and he could swear something was gonna happen-

TRRRRNNGG! The discordant bell rang out though the corridors of the school building and the miniscule space they had between them, widening until they were centimetres apart. Too much apart. The distance between them felt like a chasm of longing but. He could fix it. He could skip the rest of the school day, even though Nandan would ask him where he disappeared off to.

Hobie looked at him, eyes filled with an emotion Pav dared not to name and a hope that he'd say yes. Pav was glad to not disappoint.

"Let's go."

___

this isn't very long but i wanted to get it out of my brain before i got too busy to post again

i might continue this later but hope you like it, ravi✨✨

title (translated) from itni si baat hai by arijit singh

(goldenpunk playlist i made)

[abbyslev]

𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑴𝑬- 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

A/N: hello my angels! i am currently working on 5 request, so i promise i am getting those done!! i was in an angsty mood, so i made this. something small!! i hope you all enjoy!

WARNINGS: character death, all angst and lightly proofread!

WC: 749

     You ran up the hill, panting and small beads of sweat forming at your forehead.

       Your shoe got stuck on the tree, making you fall. You grunt, picking yourself up quickly. “Fuck,” You mutter, collecting the books and paper that flew out of your bag. You look back up at the tower clock, wiping your knees quickly before continuing to run back up the hill. 

       You finally reached the tree, chest heaving and wiping your forehead against the sleeve of your Scout trench coat. Somewhat yours, it was Hange’s, but you wore it all the time. You set down the basket, sitting under the shade. 

       “Sorry I’m late. Stupid thing tripped me and the kids wanted me to do some stuff before I came up here.” You laugh, scratching your neck. “Anyway, Armin got me this super cool book, and it’s about some plants. I think you’d like this one.” You open your book, turning to the Venus Flytrap. “This one eats flies.”

       You push your hair behind your ear, squinting to see the words better. “It eats flies. Whatever those are, but basically the fly goes into its mouth and it shuts it and drowns it at a super deadly speed. How cool is that? I tried to look more into it, but that’s the basic rundown.” You flip the page, arm digging into the basket again. 

      You take out a sandwich, taking one part for yourself. You set the other one down in front of the headstone, chewing the sandwich slowly. “This one is good, last week’s sandwich  was bitter. Mikasa said she’s making strawberry jam tomorrow, so I'll be sure to bring some next time.” You scoot in front of the stone, sighing. 

        Your fingers trace the engraved letters, humming a small tune Jeans baby had gotten stuck in your head. ‘H-A-N-G-E  Z-O-E’

       Those are the letters you traced every week, the same thoughts running through your head. “I miss you.” You repeat for what feels like the thousandth time that day. “I wanted to come by earlier and read you this, but you know how busy it gets around here.” You adjust yourself,  laying on the floor, head beside the stone. 

        You read all the stories about the plants, even going on rambles of your own. You explained how you’d love to grow these plants with Hange, talking about how cool it would be to have your home filled with these strange vines and have food grow from the trees in your backyard.

        After hours went by, the sun went down and the stars appeared in the sky. The bright moon reflected against your skin, and soft snores filled the quiet air. The book laid softly against your chest, hair sprawled beneath you. The quiet, cold air swayed the grass, and the birds no longer sang.

       “Hey,” Someone shook your shoulders. Your eyes opened, sitting up. The book fell with a muted thud. “Wake up.” They helped you sit up, patting your back. It was Mikasa. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I fell asleep.” You yawned. “Don’t worry, it’s alright. Levi was looking for you, and I assumed you’d be here.” “What time is it?” You closed the book, setting it in the basket.

      “Ten. You should be in bed, c’mon I’ll walk you home.” Mikasa helped you pick up your belongings, carrying the basket. “Goodnight.” You kiss the top of the stone head before standing up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I guess it’s just been a long week.” You fixed your clothes. Mikasa stared at the stone, noticing the food and the small origami flowers scattering near it.  You had visited Hange every week, never failing to leave them a gift and food. 

        Mikasa’s heart hurt. Her heart hurt for you, for the fact you watched your love die before you. Who begged Hange to stay, who clung on to Levi for hours, eyes in a distant place while tears poured form your eyes. Mikasa wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you down the hill. 

      “Let’s get you some dinner, yeah?” Mikasa smiled. She still noticed you had that sad look in your eyes, even after years. “Yeah, I could go for some soup.” You smile, leaning your head into hers. At least she had someone to love. She watched you stand next to Levi, pushing him around, laughing and poking fun at him, but everyone could sense something was missing. Part of you was missing. 

      But yet, Hange was somehow always with you. 

[strangeauthor]

oh im sorry. its nine o clock and that screenshot from chuck made me lose my mind. i hate when ppl do the whole "oh the fact i couldnt tell it was fake speaks volume" NO IT DOESNT YOURE JUST FUCKING STUPID