#like he doesn’t seem homophobic to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hell-fm · 1 month ago

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As someone who is NOT touch-averse and moreso sex-favorable or sex-neutral (depending on my hormone level) and still discovering themselves when it comes to what my needs and wants in life are even though I am in my mid30s, I find The Ace Discourse around Alastor very stressful and unhelpful.

How both ends of this discourse talk about it and choose to portray Alastor feels very black and white to me, when that doesn’t reflect my experiences of romance and sex at all. And by this I don’t mean that theres a valid way of doing it and a nonvalid way of doing it. I think it’s more about how I would love people to understand relationships the way I see them and to explore the literal grey areas there.

I guess at some point we as a community need to spell the problems out, so I’ll try..,,

I think the biggest issue here mostly is that plenty of ppl who are ace and even sex-repulsed irl feel attraction to fictional characters and in many such cases that character is Alastor, they want to see him fuck or get fucked. So they like sexual and romantic content with him and try to write him to be demiromantic or sex-favorable or both or whatever else… and that is very valid and fair, because that does reflect the reality of many aroace people. Sometimes people completely erase the nuances there for the sake of smut and romance and I do not particularly like that, but I also lowkey just don’t care? My personal mantra after many years of being a messy fandom bitch is don’t like don’t read. People who like sexual and romantic content with Alastor often say they experience harassment from others who are lowkey just homophobic but use the fact that Alastor is ace as a reason to verbally attack them or threaten to dox them. The claim here is that those people are always allos, which I don’t think is necessarily true. However, I definitely have seen allos do this.

Other aces who are sex-repulsed even in fiction see Alastor as sex-repulsed and romance-repulsed ( I don’t even think theyre wrong at all, that is a very accurate observation from what you see in canon) and get annoyed because so much content with Alastor doesn’t reflect that at all. And that is also a very valid thing to be upset about! It is very unfortunate that Alastor is one of the few ace characters that fans get at all and he happens to be the most shipped guy. I understand why that is annoying, upsetting and feels unfair. I just also think that to claim the problem are allos and this is how allos mistreat ace representation not only erases aroace ppl who are Alastor shippers, but also conflates fanmade, transgressive content with the show. I just don’t think it’s healthy to get mad at people for liking the blorbo differently, especially considering that the ace spectrum is actually fairly wide and thus includes many, many different forms of handling sex and relationships and there simply isn’t just one way to represent it.

The issue here is getting into The Discourse about it, because it wont lead anywhere. Hence why people usually recommend that everyone stays in their lane, which I think is the startest thing you can do. At the end of the day it often seems like semantics to me anyways. One group claims *they said drawing Alastor smut is wrong because he is ace, but ace people can fuck!!!* and the other group claims *Claiming that it’s wrong to say this character is sex-repulsed because some ace people fuck is stupid!!!* and I think both are right. I just think you need to agree to disagree on this one, my dudes. Theres literally no way around it.

However, interestingly what oftentimes falls flat here is the most underrepresented form of aroace realities in fandom, which is the *somewhere in between*. The Alastor that I rarely see in fanfics or fanart, the one who fucks not for sexual pleasure, but to gain something. Or to be entertained. Or out of a masochistic of even sadistic desire. Or to form bonds, to maintain a relationship.

Point 1: sex-favorable doesn’t necessarily mean demisexual. And this is where it gets tricky.

I feel like many aces who maybe are younger, or have always been aware of being ace and/or who grew up with the identity labels maybe can’t imagine sex to be anything but something you consent to with great enthusiasm and desire for sexual pleasure. Many people who are so indifferent to sex or even repulsed by it consider this the only valid form of consent, because that is the line they would never cross. The problem just is that this is not what it’s like for many sex-favorable aces.

Point 2: Sexual attraction is not the same as a libido. You can be ace and not feel sexual attraction, but have a functioning libido

The reason why Heat/Rut works so well as a trope for aces who ship Alastor is because sometimes that is what it feels like for us. Hormonal fluctuations causing your body to seek out sexual stimulation while you personally really wouldnt know who to go to for it, because arousal is just a bodily reaction to you, not something that you want to happen. This might be confusing for many allos, because they also have a concept of difference between attraction and libido, but it’s important to point out that aces experience NO attraction. Or in the case of demisexuals, just very little attraction. Many aces experience attraction to concepts or if they are sexually experienced, they might have physical Pavlovian responses. But there’s no day to day attraction to people in the same way allos experience it.

Point 3: sex-neutrality and the problem if seeing sex as either inherently positive or inherently negative

Something I find myself relating to the most is a very neutral relationship to sex and I feel like that it something I never be talked about online. Not in fandom, not on Instagram. It feels like being a unicorn because if you are not either avoiding sex like the plague or enthusiastically consenting, you are not able to consent to sex somehow.

Idk if this has to do with people either never having had sex, or only having bad experiences or being a young allo and not understanding that sex is more than just plap plap plap uhn uhn SPLOURCH, but there’s a lot of reasons to have sex with someone CONSENSUALLY without it being about sexual pleasure. In my personal experience, I found the physical connection during sex very unique and powerful, it feels like a very neutral way of connecting to someone. It is very hard to explain with words, but I think it’s mostly about trust building and getting to know your partner physically in the most intimate way possible. Especially aces who arent aro often say this is why they have sex. It’s not something they need, but it’s about counting freckles, smiling at each other and feeling skin and just intimacy in general.

Having peaked into a few texts about psychoanalysis makes you realize that both allos and aces have sex for many reasons other than just sexual attraction.

In less romantic cases, ppl have sex because they enjoy the power dynamic, sometimes it’s to get your mind off of other things or because it’s a means to an end. Maybe even because you enjoy the vulnerability. Some people have sex because they think it’s just what you do, even if you technically don’t have to do it. And none of these scenarios happen nonconsensually to these people, because they just don’t think much of it and sex isn’t a big deal to them. That is the Definition of being sex-neutral. It’s also why some sex workers are ace and only find this out about themselves when they stop sex work and realize they don’t really miss having sex at all, but also don’t feel particularly bad about having done it.

Point 4: Aces love kink

I could write an entire essay about being ace and BDSM, this is still one of these topics where theres so much ressources online and people still get surprised when you tell them about it, but I already spend a lot of time on this post and would like to either never talk about this or maybe make a big post sometime in the future when people least expect it.

But just so you know: BDSM isn’t about sex, sex can play a role in it and does so for many people, but especially no-touch domsub, bondage, sadism and masochism can be activities that happen without sex being ever a part of it. Not even an afterthought.

I have read quite a few fanfics where any of these 4 points were explored with Alastor and I think it would do good for people to consider these options more for cool and interesting dynamics that are more unusual, especially considering the specifically weird flavor of Alastor. But at the end of the day people can write whatever they want and it’s not my business. If this post reaches even just one person and they feel like they gained new insights, that’s a win for me!

#Alastor #hazbin hotel #asexual Alastor #ace spectrum #fandom

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rememberwren · 8 months ago

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A Dichotomy of Thought || 10

Prior and future chapters here.

A visitor in the park.

CW: domestic violence, rape, ableist language, homophobic slurs (f-word), internalized ableism, suicidal ideation, mention of burning.

It seems cruel that such terrible things must happen at moments when you are your happiest. There’s logic in it, sure—there can be no joy without pain, and happiness is bracketed on either side by sadness—but logic and cruelty don’t have to live apart from each other. In fact, you would often say they are married.

Your boyfriend stands over you, blotting out the sun like a raincloud come to pour down on the briefest moment of peace you have felt in the last several days. Everything about him is innocuous: his clothes, his posture, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stares down at you with unspeakable fondness in his eyes.

“Hi honey,” he says. “How was work?”

Johnny goes to stand, but your boyfriend is quicker, banging his shin violently against Johnny’s knee. Johnny sucks in a breath as the pain winds him, body bowing over to protect his most vulnerable areas.

“Don’t stand on my account,” your boyfriend says to his crumpled figure. “Did I get the right knee? I did, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure if it was the right or the left—“

“Hey!” you bellow, the volume of your own voice surprising you. You stand between them, put both hands against your boyfriend’s chest, and push. He nearly goes sprawling on the sidewalk, only barely managing to get his feet under him in time. You point a shaking finger in his face. “You don’t fucking touch him!”

“An accident,” he laughs, lifting his hands. “I stumbled into him. It could have happened to anybody.”

“Yer a fucking cunt,” Johnny groans, both hands gripping his thigh above his knee, knuckles pale. “And so’s yer mother. Syphilis-infected-cocksucking bitch.”

“Not nice,” your boyfriend says mildly, shoving his hands back into his pocket. “Do you kiss my fiancé with that mouth?”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you hiss. All three of you quiet down as an older couple inches by, hand in weathered hand. When they are a safe distance away, you ask: “How did you know I was here? Were you following me?”

“I can’t reveal all my secrets,” he says, lowering his voice to a dangerous timber, one that promises violence. “The same way you’re not willing to give up all of yours. You thought I wouldn’t notice you coming home late all the time? Do I look stupid?”

Johnny makes a sound, some kind of wounded laugh that only serves to put you on edge even more. You can imagine his answer—but he doesn’t know your boyfriend. He doesn’t know the kind of grim, intelligent cruelty that is wielded against you every day. Johnny is hot headed and craving violence, but he’s in no condition to experience it.

You have to protect him.

“We can talk about it at home,” you mutter, making sure to keep between the two men who seem eager for each other’s blood. Your boyfriend tongues his cheek, eyeing Johnny, weighing his options.

“Come on,” you say, louder. Reaching out, you grip his arm, nails digging into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch. But after an endless moment of waiting for further provocation from Johnny, he decides Johnny isn’t worth his time. He laces his fingers in yours and pulls you along, further away from the bench, from Johnny, from the sunlight.

“Get in the car,” he says, walking to the driver’s side.

“You’re not supposed to drive.”

“I won’t say it again.”

He won’t, either. You know him. So instead you slip into the passenger seat. There’s no worse feeling than being in an enclosed space with him. The air feels heavy and oppressive, weighing you down. At the same time, your body buzzes with adrenalin, preparing for pain. You numbly buckle your seatbelt while he starts the car.

“How long have you been cheating on me with that cripple next door?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not.”

The calm snaps, nothing but a thin sheet of icy veneer over a deep, dark lake of fury.

“Don’t—lie—to—me,” he says through his teeth. He holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers. “Phone. Hand it over. You’ve lost your privileges.”

“I don’t have it,” you lie. “It’s at work.”

“You really do,” he says, staring at you with borderline awe. “You think I’m a fucking idiot, don’t you? Oh, baby. Oh, honey. You’re in for it. How do you think I fucking found you? Give me the goddamn phone.”

You shake your head. You can’t give it up. Not when it’s the only safe way for Simon to contact you.

He reaches for your hand. The two of you struggle as you try to avoid his touch, briefly banging your knuckles on the car window, but then he has your hand in his grasp, and he takes your smallest finger and wrenches it back, back—you feel the pop, pain lancing through your hand all the way to your wrist.

You screech.

“Give me the phone,” he says, letting you cradle the misshapen hand against your breast. You grit your teeth, tears dripping off your chin. When he reaches for your hand again, you break and turn out your pockets, handing over your last lifeline. He takes the phone and beats it against the dashboard, again and again and again until the screen is a spider’s web of cracks, glass littering your knees.

He hands you back the broken phone.

“You broke my fucking finger,” you cry, voice warbling embarrassingly.

“You broke your own finger by not listening to me the first time,” he says, tossing the phone in your lap when you don’t take it. He puts the car in reverse. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes, baby.”

The two of you spend five hours in the emergency room together. This is an integral part of the experience; when he hurts you, he has to heal you.

Your pinky isn’t broken, only dislocated. They set it and splint it and warn you that it could take months to feel normal again, like you know at all what that word means. Beneath the tinny lights of the exam room, your makeup job must be failing, because the nurse asks your boyfriend to step out so that she can ask you a few questions alone.

This isn’t your first time in the emergency room, and you know the rules. You stick to your story (the one he had stitched together on the drive to the ER) even without your boyfriend’s oppressive presence looming over your shoulder. The nurse gives you a look that is both professional and pitying. You spend the rest of the visit refusing to meet her eyes, chewing on the nails of your good hand.

“Could you be any more suspicious?” your boyfriend asks mildly while the two of you leave. He waves to one of the nurses, who gives back a cheerful little salute.

Making friends wherever he goes; that’s your boyfriend.

Walking into your apartment is like walking into another world.

Everything has been upended: the couch cushions, the silverware drawers, the chairs at the table. DVD’s have been removed from their boxes. Even the fucking lamps have had their lampshades removed. The bathroom and bedroom doors have been taken off their hinges and laid neatly against one another in the bedroom.

“You weren’t the only one busy today,” he says, relishing in your grim expression. “You know the drill. Clean up. Then we’ll go to bed.”

This is an old trick of his that you know well. He tore the place apart searching for contraband—but he knows that even he isn’t all-powerful. Now he waits to see where you will rush to clean up first, where your anxious mind will take you, desperate to find out if he’s found whatever you’ve been hiding. Once it was money. Another time, a business card for a lawyer.

This time, a lighter that’s not your own.

You’re smarter now, though. You don’t go straight for your sock drawer where the lighter is hidden. You begin at the northernmost point of the apartment and clean north to south, east to west, methodical, your hand throbbing as the anesthetic wears off.

It is deeply late by the time you make it to the bedroom to find your clothes strewn across the bed. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, body aching from a long day at work (and a longer day after work). You can’t help but think of Johnny as you clean, tucking clothes back into their drawers, putting clothes back on their hangers. Did he make it home safely? Did he finally message Simon? Did he try to walk home? Thinking about Johnny out alone in the dark makes your stomach turn unpleasantly.

Sock drawer now. Most of these are still in the dresser, though some have been pushed out into the floor in your boyfriend’s search for ammunition to use against you. You pick up the few outliers and stuff them back into the drawer.

No lighter.

It’s not there. You know even as you continue to search without hope, rifling through your paired socks as subtly as you can. This is all just another game. He’s found the lighter and has just been waiting for you to notice it’s gone so that he can torment you with it. Maybe he’ll flick the spark wheel (the way Johnny can’t—God, Johnny, please be okay—) and hold the flame to your skin or your hair—

You touch something hard, plastic. Your breath catches. It’s there. It’s still there, tucked inside a pair of socks. He hadn’t found it. Relief rises up in you so poignantly that tears fill your eyes, even as you force yourself to shut the drawer and move on to another part of the room, feeling your boyfriend’s presence at the door, watching.

The lighter was so little, but it meant so much. You couldn’t even put into words why. Because it was Johnny’s, maybe. Because it was yours, now. Because it was one thing your boyfriend hadn’t put his hands on and destroyed or claimed as his own. Nothing belonged to you—not your money, not your body, nothing. Except maybe that silly lighter.

You wait until after he fucks you to speak, stubbornly maintaining your silence even through the pain and humiliation he inflicts on you. There’s something even worse about the way he draws your body against his afterwards, an arm looped possessively over your waist, the imitation of a loving cuddle.

“I want to break up,” you say.

He gives a long-suffering sigh, breath rustling your hair. “Keep dreaming, baby.”

The words won’t stop tripping out of your mouth.

“I mean it. I hate you—and you hate me. All we do is fight and hurt each other. Why…” you get choked up, swallow past the lump in your throat. “We don’t have to do this anymore. You can’t possibly be happy. Is this really how you want to live the rest of your life? Tormenting me?”

He is quiet for longer than you expect. You hold your breath, tears dripping from your eyes and over the bridge of your nose, down into your pillowcase. Maybe he’s thinking about it. Maybe he’s really considering it.

At last, he says: “Don’t ever think that there’s anywhere else in the world…anything else I’d rather be, than right where I am.”

Your heart plummets.

“Now go to sleep,” he says, kissing your neck. “You work in the morning.”

The sun goes down before Simon finds him. Johnny sits shivering on the bench where you left him, his eyes red rimmed and unseeing even when he hears the familiar footsteps of his lover against the pavement.

Simon sits next to him where you once sat, and for a long time, neither of them speaks. When Johnny finally breaks the silence, his voice is rough from hours of crying and disuse.

“I brought her here,” he says.

Simon nods. He knows. Of course he knows.

“I think she liked it,” Johnny adds, trying to find any brightness in the dark that encompasses him.

But all at once the tears come back, his throat burning, head throbbing. He bends at the waist, elbow on his thigh, and shakes, trying to keep his crying quiet, still clinging to the remnants of a dignity that God tears more from his grasp every day. When Simon’s warm arm wraps around him, it just makes him cry harder, even as he leans into the heat of the other man like a flower bends toward the sun.

“I’m useless,” Johnny weeps. “Fuckin’ useless. He showed up and just—took her, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Even you think I’m useless—druggin’ me to keep me from getting in your way. I can’t dress myself, can’t tie my own shoes. What fucking good am I, as a human being? What’s the good in being alive if I have to live like this?”

Simon says nothing. Johnny leans up, letting the moonlight wash over his tear-soaked face. He wipes at his cheeks.

“You can’t be happy, either,” he says, taking in the solemn lines of Simon’s face, the shadows under his eyes. Simon looks older than his age, and Johnny knows who is responsible, who has aged him. Terrified to know the answer, he asks: “Is this how you want to live? With an overgrown child as your lover? One who can’t remember where he took off his shoes? Who needs you to, to cut up his food and button his shirts?”

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” says Simon simply. “If that’s how I get to be with you. Then yeah, Johnny. I’m solid.”

Johnny shakes his head. He can’t even find the energy within him to be angry. All that’s left is disbelief. “You can’t mean that.”

“I mean it. I—“ Simon ducks his head. “—I never should have put those pills in your juice. I should have trusted you. I wish I could take that back.”

Johnny sniffs wetly. It’s as close to an apology as he’s ever heard Simon give, and it makes no small amount of guilt bloom in Johnny’s aching chest.

“You were right not to trust me,” says Johnny. “I was lying.”

“I know,” says Simon. He reaches down and laces his fingers with Johnny’s one hand. “But I want to be a man who trusts you, even if I’m wrong.”

Johnny is quiet for a long time, turning those words over in his head. A painful longing rises up in his chest, one he hasn’t felt since the days when he was still in the 141, days when he could barely breathe for wanting the man beside him so badly. When they’d had to love each other in secret, and it felt like he would happily have given anything if it meant they didn’t have to hide anymore.

I miss you, he thinks. I miss myself. Leaning in, he lays his cheek against Simon’s shoulder.

“Are we gonna make it?” he wonders quietly, watching the last of the fireflies twinkle around the dim park. Soon it will be too cold for them. Soon it will be too cold for Johnny.

“Whatever we do, we’ll do it together,” Simon promises, laying his temple against Johnny’s head.

He waits until you are asleep to creep out of the bed. There is no rest for him—not when he gets in these restless, paranoid moods. Not when he has a hunch to follow.

Quietly, he drifts through the apartment like a ghost. Everything is back in its place, but he tries to think of anywhere he might have missed to search. You are hiding something; he knows it. He knows you. You’re see-through to him, predictable in a way that used to thrill him but now just irritates.

“Where is it?” he mutters, standing in the living room, turning a slow circle.

Was the lighter really all you’d been hiding? That stupid piece of plastic and metal? He’d found it easily and decided it served him better left in its place. Let you think that he had missed it. Let you think that he was slipping.

“I’m sharper than ever, baby,” he mutters to himself in the darkness.

Halfheartedly, he searches a few places that he had already gone through: checking some of the mugs on the top shelf in the kitchen, feeling beneath the table in the foyer for anything taped beneath it.

He thinks about the cripple next door while he does it. Johnny. A problem, if he’s ever seen one. Him and his boyfriend both. What two faggots want with you, he can’t imagine—good Samaritans, perhaps? Well they would find out in good time what happened to people who put their noses where they didn’t belong.

Regardless, he doesn’t like it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Sighing, he braces his hands against the table, resting his weight against it. If he’d known that this building would cause so much trouble, he never would have moved you in here. Not that the two of you had been swimming in options.

Your keys on the table catch his eye, but he doesn’t know why. He nudges them with his hand, metal dragging over the wood. On a whim, he counts them.

There is an extra key.

His brows lift. He picks up the keys and goes through them one by one, wracking his brain to remember what each one is for. At last he’s left with a single unfamiliar key. One that looks identical to the key to their apartment. A duplicate? he wonders. For when she’s locked out?

But no, the keys are different. Just similar.

An idea tickles at the back of his brain, but he’s never been the kind of man to ignore his instincts. He goes to the door without bothering to slip on his shoes, and steps silently out into the hallway. At this time of night, there is no one out and about, no one peeking at him from their doors. On silent feet, he pads to his neighbor’s door and grips the knob. Locked.

He slips the key into the lock—and it opens.

Oh that little bitch. Fury rises up in him until he can taste it in the back of his throat. He wants to go and wake you, take a fistful of your hair and drag you out into the hallway for all your nosy neighbors to see, wants to hear that shriek of pain you give when he hurts you so unexpectedly—

But no. He has to be smart.

He locks 5C’s door again, checks the handle, then slips back into his apartment. There will be no rest for him tonight. Not when there is so much to think about.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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horrorshow · 15 days ago

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asking in good faith, but to me it seemed like dean was obsessed with hypermasculinity not bc of his clothing/music choices, but bc of how he treated women in particular & his sort of, trying to play it cool attitude towards his own feelings & even jensons decision to play dean with a deeper voice. also him teasing sam did play a role for me in that interpretation bc he teases him for doing "girly" things specifically. could you explain a little bit more your perspective on this? im genuinely curious

it's selective reading. for every one of these examples you could also find an example that contradicts it: he's a caretaker, he cooks, he reads mommy blogs, he likes watching soap operas, he wears jewelry, even with one night stands he likes holding hands and the woman in charge, he didn’t chicken out of trying on woman’s underwear. if a guy is truly obsessed with looking as masculine as possible he wouldnt do these things.

the way i see it: dean, like most people, displays both stereotypically masculine and feminine behavior, making him a standard regular guy. and discussion about this is only interesting if you look at the full scope and context without cherry picking.

what we do know is that dean is usually bad at hiding his emotions, he feels very intensely. given the life he had, it makes sense he tried to look a bit older and tougher than he actually was to protect himself. that has more to do with being smart and adapting to his (masculine-rewarding) surroundings, rather than an obsession with masculinity itself. you gotta look through that facade.

and sorry but… how he treats women?? it's true he doesn’t always talk about women with the utmost respect but i do NOT see a pattern of mistreated women. his one night stands seem happy and well treated the morning after. and he gets along fine with other women as well. i know a lot of people mention his comment on underage girls but whenever you see him interact with any of those girls you dont see that kind of behavior at all, there are even examples where he seems to relate to the vulnerable position they're in, so it seems to be nothing more than a misplaced joke.

a lot of people forget that this show started 20 years ago, and was written by a bunch of mostly white men. jokes about women and men being girly and gay were very common back then. you got called gay and girly when you drank milk in your coffee, so to speak. my dad got called gay for getting an earring (he thought it was rock 'n' roll) lots of people talked like that, and it didn’t necessarily mean those people were misogynistic homophobes in all areas of their lives. most of the time they were just an average dude who got used to using this kind of language bc it was used everywhere and never really stopped to question it and think about it.

which is also the blind spot spn has, and critique of that is valuable. the writers seem to have put that in because they saw it as funny relatable guy talk and brotherly banter. but nothing shows me it was their intention to make dean look like someone who looks down on women or gay people, and other scenes confirm that. dean is teasing sam in jest, he isn’t trying to seriously demean or hurt him.

i mean, i'm all for finding flaws in a story and twisting them into something that makes sense, but there’s a reason dean feels like he needs to act like more of a careless tough guy: its because he's not. and it leaves him vulnerable. dean is much softer and emotionally open than you give him credit for.

and if that makes you think he’s obsessed with masculinity, you haven't paid enough attention to him. jensen doesnt play dean as a very masculine guy, even with the lower voice. it's a lot more nuanced than that.

#i don’t find the way gender is talked about in fandom spaces all that interesting #its like most people first put a desired label on a guy. and then start to look for evidence to make it fit #ignoring the stuff that contradicts it or makes it nuanced #and reinforcing gender norms rather than questioning them #do whatever you want but personally i just find it very boring. regressive even sometimes.#reply

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 4

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3

TW: one instance of homophobic language (internally), fear of violence due to homophobia (which doesn't occur).

Chrissy would have never expected Steve Harrington to be full of such soft, gooey feelings, but with every letter she helps him right, he only gets sappier. The latest is so sticky with sap she’s afraid it’ll stick to her fingers.

Part of her, the smallest, niggling part, wishes Steve really was her boyfriend, and all those little niceties could be for her. But, that wouldn’t be fair to Steve, anyway. There’s nothing there; he’s just Steve—the platonic ideal of a best friend.

So, she wears his last name on her back, helps him write his little notes, and hopes ardently that she’ll find someone she cares that much about for herself.

“What are you doing?”

Chrissy’s fingers stumble at the unexpected voice, Steve’s latest letter fluttering to the dirty ground. Someone else beats her to picking it up. She watches, mouth in her throat, as one of Eddie’s friends unfolds the note. He squints down at it, eyebrows raising higher and higher until they’re almost meeting his hairline by the time he reaches the sign-off.

He folds it up carefully before handing it back to her. She clutches it to her chest, but the damage has already been done.

“Aren’t you dating Harrington?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy stumbles over her words, only getting out an, “it’s not like—” and a “I wouldn’t do—” before sputtering into silence.

They stand there, staring at each other for an endless moment, neither speaking, before Chrissy finally spins around, shoves the note into Eddie’s locker, and flees as fast as her tired legs can carry her.

He doesn’t follow.

Practice had run long, and she’d just wanted to leave the note and get home. Now, home is less of a relief and more somewhere that she can stew in the repercussions of what she’s done. Jeff’s Eddie’s friend, he’ll tell him without hesitation, and where will that leave her and Steve?

With that in mind, she goes looking for Jeff bright and early the next day, hoping boys’ propensity for not talking on the phone means that they’ve yet to speak.

“Did you tell him?” she asks when she finds Jeff spinning the dial on what must be his own locker.

Seeming entirely unbothered even as everyone around them stares, Jeff continues unlocking his locker at a leisurely pace. Only once he’s pulled the lock down and swung his locker open does he turn to meet her eyes.

“You mean, did I tell my best friend that Chrissy Cunningham has been writing him love notes?” Jeff asks. Chrissy shifts her eyes around, relieved that no one’s close enough to hear Jeff’s quiet voice.

Chrissy nods, something weighty sinking into her stomach the longer he goes without responding.

He turns back to his locker with a huff to dig around on the top shelf. “No,” he says, but before the relief can hit her, he continues, “I don’t want you to hurt him, and I think you will.”

“It’s not—I don’t—“ she stumbles in an embarrassing reenactment of last night. When he turns back to her with that same judgmental look, she shores herself up, clears her throat, and finally eeks out a full sentence. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Jeff’s expression doesn’t change as he asks, “so, what? You’re going to leave Harrington for him?”

Her silence must speak volumes because he slams his locker shut, and turns to walk away, calling, “that’s what I thought” over his shoulder.

She stands, transfixed, as he walks away.

His dismissal niggles at her, until she finds herself seeking him out again before the end of the day. He’s walking out of the bathroom, still shaking his hands dry as she rushes up to him, matching his stride down the hallway step for step.

“I’m not dating Steve,” she says.

It’s the first time she’s said it aloud, none of her friends close enough to confide in. But, here she is, telling the best friend of one half of the reason her and Steve are even doing this, entirely unprompted.

Jeff looks at her sidelong. “Did you tell the rest of the school that?”

Chrissy sweeps her ponytail over her shoulder as she rolls her eyes. She’d never told anyone her and Steve were dating. All it’d taken was her wearing his letterman, and that confrontation with Jason, and everyone had been convinced, no lying necessary.

“It doesn’t matter to me what they all think.”

It does, but she’s been spending too much time with Steve, and his aloof indifference to his image has been rubbing off. She’s glad.

“But you’re telling me, because what?” he asks, still skeptical. “You have a big crush on my best friend?”

He throws finger quotations around the word crush that would be insulting if he wasn’t right. She does like Eddie. He’s weird, but nice unless provoked. But the thought of kissing his dry lips makes her nose wrinkle.

“It’s not like that,” she says again.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

He walks into his next class without another word. Chrissy continues down the hall, barely making it in time for her own.

It doesn’t get better.

Jeff’s dislike, visible in his eyes anytime they cross paths, cuts at her. She finds herself seeking him out, explaining again and again, or trying to without saying anything at all.

“It’s really not like that!” she says, finally frustrated enough to raise her voice. “Steve’s handwriting is atrocious so I was just—”

She cuts herself off, hands slamming over her mouth as she realizes what she’s said. It’s just, Jeff was making that face she hates again, that one with the raised brows and judgmental smirk, and she’d gotten mad.

“Steve’s handwriting…” Jeff murmurs quietly, eyebrows now lowered and furrowed in thought.

She might’ve been able to play it off. But the silence has lingered too long, and Chrissy’s never had much of a poker face. She knows the guilt and panic in her expression is damning; she still can’t seem to wipe it off her face.

“The notes…” Jeff starts, trailing off like he can’t bear to say it, “are from Steve?”

Chrissy clenches her hand tighter across her mouth like she can somehow retroactively shove her words back into her throat, stop Jeff from having the realization that might get Steve–who’s quickly becoming her best friend–killed. But, he keeps just looking at her. So, she nods, movements jerky and scared.

“Shit,” Jeff says, finally breaking eye contact to bend over and squeeze the bridge of his nose. “That explains so much.”

Unable to stop herself, Chrissy bursts into tears.

***

Eddie heads to his locker first thing in the morning. He’s been buzzing since he dropped off the last letter, hoping against hope that she’d check there again. And there, like an answer to his prayers, is an envelope resting atop his neglected Biology textbook.

Eddie’s ready to become a believer if all his hopes and dreams keep coming true. He’ll drop down on his knees and repent for all his sins if it means these letters keep coming. In fact, he’ll do it here and now, envelope clutched between sweaty palms as his knees smack into the unforgiving floor of the hallway. All the peons around him give him a wide berth as he smacks his palms together and sends up a prayer like he’s seen people do on TV.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jeff asks, squinting down at him like this is the weirdest thing he’s ever caught Eddie doing.

“Nothing!” Eddie replies, resisting the urge to shove the letter into his mouth. He hasn’t even got to read it yet, no way is he squandering this opportunity just because Jeff’s butting his nosy little nose into his business.

But when Eddie meets Jeff’s eyes, he looks so squinty and weird, and un-Jeff-like, that Eddie’s almost worried. He stands, bruised knees aching as he shoves the envelope—gently!—into the deep pocket of his jeans. Jeff watches the paper until it’s entirely out of sight.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, hand reaching out to cup Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff shakes his head like a dog after a bath, finally looking away from the ass of Eddie’s jeans. “What?” he asks, before shaking his head again, and it must help shake a thought loose because the next thing he says is, “I’m fine.”

Eddie keeps his eyes fixed on Jeff, wondering if it’ll be enough to break him, but all Jeff does is clench his jaw and straighten his shoulders, a warrior ready for battle.

“All right,” Eddie says, reaching his finger out to boop Jeff’s nose in that way he hates. “Keep your secrets.”

Then, he turns and walks away. He smiles as Jeff sputters behind him, calling out, “I don’t have any secrets!” just as Eddie pushes into the bathroom.

There’s a few freshmen in there, but they scatter as Eddie enters. Even still, Eddie rushes into one of the stalls and locks it behind himself. This is about as far as a lit candle and mood lighting as one can get—Eddie smells the hints of the shit the last guy in here must have taken and the fluorescents are bright enough to drill a headache into his skull—but Eddie can’t wait any longer.

He tears into the envelope, as gently as he can with impatient, shaking fingers.

Eddie —

I know you don’t like them, but I like sports. There’s something about depending on your body to get you through a hard work-out, you know? But, I don’t know if it’s my thing, like Dungeons and Dragons and music are yours. Maybe I don’t have a thing. Is that weird?

My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors. I’d love to see you in such a bright color one day, even if I do love all the black and red. It suits you.

I’ve never dreamt much, but when they’re good, they’re usually about you, so your hopes just might come true.

I know your handwriting, and what you yell about for the world to hear, but I don’t know as much as I’d like. I want to know everything about you. What’s your favorite color? Do you have happy dreams?

Yours, Always

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Maybe put it in Romeo and Juliet this time, the edition with the tear in the cover.

Here, tucked away in this shitty bathroom in this shitty school, Eddie Munson smiles. He’s got another note to write, and another book in the library to find.

***

“I have some bad news.”

Steve’s barely stepped out of his car before Chrissy’s ambushing him. He takes a startled step back into the beemer, as he meets her gaze.

Chrissy’s wringing her hands together, anxiety wafting off her. Just behind her shoulder, a guy Steve only recognizes as one of Eddie’s friends is stoutly avoiding his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s got Steve’s gut sinking into his socks.

“What happened?” Steve asks hesitantly.

His mind’s ticking away, and coming up with all the worst case scenarios. Eddie’s in trouble, or hurt, or worse. What else could bring these two together?

“Jeff knows about the letters!” Chrissy cries, words all jumbled together in her rush to get them out.

Steve takes a step back, pressing his spine uncomfortably into the metal roof of his car, instinct against an unknown threat. No one steps after him. It’s hard to take his eyes off Jeff and Chrissy, but he does. The parking lot’s crowded with warm bodies pushing between cars, desperate to make it to class on time.

Just moments ago, Steve was one of them.

“You told him?” Steve asks, eyes locked on Chrissy.

For her part, Chrissy’s eyes look big and shiny as she nods. She takes a step forward, and it takes everything in him not to step back. It’s just—he’d thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, tears finally pouring out of her eyes.

Steve watches, stagnant, as the person he was starting to consider his best friend, cries. He wants to hug her, wants to scream at her, wants to run the hell out of here to lick his wounds in peace. But, Jeff takes a step forward, scowl on his face, and Steve takes two hasty steps back, tumbling painfully through his open driver’s side door and sprawling uncomfortably on his stick shift.

The few students nearby turn to look at him, saying snide comments to one another, barely polite enough to talk in whispers. He hardly notices, eyes locked on the main threat. Jeff’s face softens as he stops his forward momentum, foot still raised in the air for a step he doesn’t take. No one moves until everyone stops watching the spectacle and begins walking away.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the stand-off, voice quieter and gentler than he’d expected. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”

Steve stares him down, still sprawled uncomfortably in his car. He’s right, but a small voice in the back of Steve’s head is wondering if they should do this at all. He wants to cut his losses and run. But, Chrissy’s still crying, and if his secret is going to be spread around the school, he’d rather have a head start out of town.

He crawls out of his seat, limbs feeling more ungainly and awkward than they have since he was prepubescent. It feels like every eye in town turns toward him as the sound of his closing car door echoes through the rapidly emptying parking lot.

“Follow me,” he says.

Turning his back on them feels like a show of trust he can’t afford, but he’s not following either of them off school grounds. The football field will be empty at this time on a Friday, especially with the rain coming down.

None of them are wearing coats, so he leads them beneath the bleachers. The rain still drips between the rafters, but there are a few dry spots big enough to stand in.

“Make-out spot, Harrington?” Jeff asks, mouth quirked up as he leans against one of the metal support beams despite it being wet and cold.

Steve’s intestines squirm around in his stomach at the way Jeff and Chrissy stay standing next to each other, a united front against Steve.

“It’s not like it’s Skull Rock,” Steve says, proud that his voice doesn’t shake. “Now, say what you want to say so I can go home.”

“There’s still school,” Chrissy hiccups out, as if he cares at all about that right now.

Jeff straightens, small smile dropping off his face as he eyes Steve. Chrissy’s face is wet. Steve’s just glad he can no longer tell what’s raindrops and what’s tears.

“I was being a dick to her,” Jeff says.

“No, you were—” Chrissy starts before Jeff talks right over her.

“All she said was that your handwriting was bad, and I put the rest together.”

A small part of Steve is soothed that Chrissy hadn’t told him on purpose. Accidents happen, he can understand that. But—

“Eddie told you about the letters?” Steve asks. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, Jeff and Eddie are always occupying the same spaces. They must be close.

Jeff shakes his head, but it’s Chrissy that speaks first, “he saw me putting one in Eddie’s locker.”

“Oh,” Steve says, slumping into himself.

They’re both staring at him now.

Steve’s never been good with silences. When his parents are gone, he leaves the TV on in the living room all hours of the day. At school, he surrounds himself with warm bodies, all making noise. In his car, there’s always a tape playing in his deck.

“So, should I start fleeing town?” Steve asks, trying for a joking tone, but his voice cracks tellingly on the last word.

“No!” Chrissy cries.

She rushes forward, wrapping the entirety of her small body around his like she can shelter him from any harms that might come for him. Steve stumbles back, barely stabilizing before they both go tumbling into the dirt.

He wraps his arms hesitantly around her, patting her back awkwardly as she undoubtedly cries into his shoulder. She’s short enough that he can put his chin on her head, so he does. She feels right in his arms—good and warm.

Why couldn’t he like her instead?

“It’s okay, Chris,” he says, but she’s too short to hide in, and he’s got a perfect view of Jeff, still in his original spot. “It’ll be okay.”

It feels like a lie when it comes out of his mouth. He meets Jeff’s eyes, surprised when he finds them warm.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jeff says.

It’s only then that Steve realizes how haggard his breathing had become, like he’d been running suicide’s in the gym, not standing stationary fighting the fears of his own mind.

He sucks in an unencumbered breath, the stone constricting his lungs ground down to almost nothing. Steve nods, arms still wrapped around Chrissy like she might be ripped away from him. He couldn’t have expected anything better, not in Hawkins. Except, what’s the likelihood he gets this lucky again?

He’s two for two with good reactions, what’s the likelihood the third won’t play a nice game of smear the queer?

Except, this is one of Eddie’s best friends, and does “anyone” even include him?

“Even Eddie?” Steve asks, that same damning quiver back in his voice.

Jeff shakes his head, and before Steve can begin to panic, Jeff speaks, “I think you should tell him, but it’s your secret man.”

Steve tries to find any sign of a lie on Jeff’s face. The other boy just looks placidly back, waiting his scrutiny out.

“Thank you,” Chrissy and Steve say at the same time.

They collapse into each other, giggling like fools as the adrenaline leaves them both. Behind them, Jeff’s smiling like he finds this whole thing charming.

Three might be a crowd, but Steve’s never liked being alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

PART 5

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #Aaaaaaaand the complications begin!!!!!

352 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 2 months ago

Text

would that i

18+. mdni. smut!! tommy hagan is mean and there is slight homophobic language! no use of y/n!

part two to this fic! can probably be read on it’s own but p1 will help you understand things!

would that i - hozier because i think steve used tommy as a scapegoat for never being himself and now he doesn’t have to <3

HIHI! i’ve been away for a little while and i apologise tremendously! this is a part two which seems completely out of left field but i found it half-finished and really liked it!! i’m hoping to start posting this multi-part eddie fic i have been working on but i want at least a couple parts solidly finished beforehand because i know exactly what i’m like lol

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

as to be expected, tommy has no interest in steve. three years of friendship washed down the drain for no good reason. on reflection, steve doesn’t really count what tommy and he had as true friendship, they were just using each other.

he was too terrified to be alone while tommy saw that and took full advantage, milking his credit card along the way.

he’s got you now, he supposes. finding solace in your house, away from the judgemental glares and snickering whispers of his teammates and friends.

robin seems to be warming up to the idea of having him as a constant presence in your house, though it’s slow and longwinded. steve had found that she was nothing like tommy, she couldn’t be bought with pizza or gifts but not with lack of trying.

you sit now on the couch, your head in some book with your legs strewn over his lap as the tv plays sunset avenue loudly. he’d never take someone like robin as an avid soap opera watcher, but then again, he shouldn’t be either.

“donna should’ve left him years ago,” steve adds, a comment that was supposed to stay tucked away in his mind.

you look up slowly, robin’s head turns, confusion plastered across your faces.

“what?” you laugh, placing the book down on your lap.

he just shrugs, eyes darting between both pairs of baffled eyes, “david’s an asshole.. she should’ve left.”

“no no, i got that, i’m just- you watch this crap?”

he shrugs again, “yeah,” finding great pleasure in the way he had finally gotten robin to crack a smile, “my mom used to watch it.. what’s the big deal?”

you look to robin, a knowing smirk on your lips before picking up your book again.

robin just grins, “oh steve harrington, i think we might just be friends.”

and thus, a weekly tradition was born.

he and robin would settle in for their fill of second-rate acting every tuesday at eight on the dot.

he lets her know that her opinions are trash and she kindly tells him to fuck off back to the barn he was born in. they were two peas in a pod really.

steve appreciates the newfound friendship. it’s comforting in ways no one else had ever been. he just hopes robin sees it that way too, he’d had his fill of one-sided friendships to last a lifetime.

steve hadn’t really left your side since the night he tumbled down your staircase and proceeded to confess, rather terribly, that he was practically in love with you.

he doesn’t mind, he likes spending time with someone who actually likes him for once.

even now, as steve attempts to settle down for the night, you’re restless, sat at your vanity rooting through your makeup.

“so i’ve been thinking,” you did a lot of that, most of it nonsensical.

“hmm?” quirking his brow, always a little worried for what was about to blurt out.

“i think you should let me put eyeliner on you,” spinning around to face him with a maniacal grin, the pencil already poised in your hand.

there was one outcome here, and it absolutely involved you jabbing a pencil into his eye.

“do i get a choice?” he asks naively, knowing the answer was certainly a no.

you shake your head, smile stretching from ear to ear, gesturing for him to scoot back. eddie wore eyeliner, and those guys on your posters. is that why you wanted him to? to be more like them?

steve swallows that thought, pummels it down until it’s but a quiet whisper. he liked you for you, surely you felt the same.

“if you really don’t want me to, i won’t,” sensing his apprehension, you were pushy and stubborn but not cruel.

he blinks, who would ever see? maybe you’d tell robin, but she certainly wouldn’t care, in fact, she’d probably think he were cooler. “i wanna make you happy,” smiling softly, “and if putting eyeliner on is what makes you happy then.. do it.”

your eyes light up, coming to stand between his knees, “you’re sure?”

steve nods his head, lying back on your bed as you get up to straddle his waist, black kohl pencil in hand.

your thumb delicately holds the skin down, allowing the pencil to line his waterline. it stings for a second, an unfamiliar feeling of a pencil jabbing his eye.

“babe ow,” exaggerating greatly. truthfully, he enjoyed the attention, the focused look on your face as your tongue peeks out in concentration.

“shut up,” moving onto his other eye without much warning, his right eye blinking rapidly. “okay,” you smile, “sit up.”

he does as he’s asked, like always. holding onto your hips as he shuffles, keeping you steady on his lap.

“oh my god,” gasping once his eyes meet yours fully, “oh my fucking god,” swooning over his forced makeover.

“you like it?” he asks innocently, none the wiser to how he actually looked.

your hands grab his cheeks, shifting on his thighs with excitement, “i love it,” gazing deep into his soul, “i just wanna kiss you.”

the side of his mouth quirks, snaking his arms around your waist, “you can always do that.”

“i know,” gladly connecting your lips, a softer appreciation for the intimacy you got to share now. nothing felt rushed or scary, you were able to enjoy each other without fear of getting caught.

he keeps your body pulled tight to his, laying you back onto the mattress as he crawls on top, his hands sliding underneath your shirt. steve hadn’t realised how much he appreciated having sex in a bed and not his cramped car.

your fingers brush the falling tendrils back from his face, interwoven into his hair with such tender loving care that it sends shivers down his spine.

they hover over his scalp, tracing gentle patterns to the sensitive skin, “you’re so handsome,” mumbling into his mouth, “i can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” lifting your back from the mattress to allow him the space to tug your sweatpants down.

“it should be me saying all that,” steve marvels, admiring the curve of your hips, the way your thighs fit him so perfectly between them. “you’re too good f��me,” saying so earnestly, he should be thanking the gods you ever looked at him twice.

“stop it,” you hush, interlocking your lips once more in a bid to stop him rambling on and ruining the moment.

steve sighs faintly, ridding himself of his shirt, giving you free reign of the delicate skin of his neck you loved so much. your lips find it first, peppering short kisses in the crook between his neck and collarbone, only for your teeth to graze the skin soon after.

he enjoyed seeing your mark on him, violet and maroon splotch’s that meant he was yours.

his hips grind down mindlessly, rutting desperately against your soft thigh.

“we have to be quiet,” you mutter into his collarbone, cradling the back of his head in your hands, the feel of your thigh brushes against his ribcage as you shift beneath him.

“i know,” he breathes, fumbling with his boxers in a desperate attempt to tug them down and feel you.

“fuck,” almost growling as you bite down onto your bottom lip, “i can’t stop looking at you,” admiring his focused expression, the charcoal lines you’d painted below his eyes.

“don’t,” fisting his cock, gliding his piece between your slick folds, “keep your eyes on me, darling,” nudging inside, his leaking tip just barely sinking into your cunt before you’re clawing desperately at his clammy neck, gasping into his ear.

“sh-shit,” speaking in shuddered breaths, praying you won’t wake robin next door. on occasions, he missed the backseat of his bmw, for this very reason.

he hadn’t heard you so loudly in months, the filthy, x-rated shit you used to growl only came out in whispers now. alas, his back had finally recovered after those weeks of trying to manoeuvre around the tiny backseat of his car and the faint scent of sex had faded.

your delicate fingers stroke his jaw, panting in succession with his hips. he can see the exact moment the idea springs into your mind, moving your thumb to the plump skin of his bottom lip, itching for him to catch on.

steve does, always one to please, you especially so. taking your thumb between his lips to suck gently on the digit, he can feel you practically convulse in response. clenching around him, keeping him so tightly wound inside you.

“holy fuck,” releasing the most animalistic growl alongside your wretched smirk, ogling his face, tracing the curve of his lips with hooded eyes.

taking his sweet, sweet time tonight, hips rocking at a astonishingly slow pace, hoping to keep you concealing your sweet moans for just a little bit longer.

adoring the way you keep your eyes trained on him, humming in appreciation when his tongue dances around your thumb.

your other hand brings his face closer, sliding your thumb down his plump bottom lip to replace it with your lips instead. groaning into his mouth when his hips still and his tongue runs the length of your bottom lip.

messy and slow, just the way steve liked it. he wasn’t opposed to the hard and fast dynamic you shared either, but this way he could truly feel you, admire your curves and your warmth as it deserved.

“can’t believe you’re mine,” he grumbles through shared kisses, fingers groping at your doughy hip.

the bed frame creaks as he moves again, disregarding how obvious the sound was to stay in this very moment. he wants to swallow you whole, sucking and nibbling ravenously at your jaw, trailing down to your neck. a safe haven for him to whine loudly.

“ohh yeah, fuck- all yours,” reassuring him of what he already knew.

steve shifts your legs, pressing down gently on the backs of your knees to allow himself further, deeper even. your eyes rolling into the back of your head when his cock nestles into your sweet spot.

“shit baby, feels so fucking good,” murmuring through gritted teeth, his pace faltering as you rut back against him.

he feels so obscenely close to you, connected in such a way that’ll leave your souls entwined forever.

you’re close, steve can feel that much. no need for desperate gasps when you made it so obvious every time. you become accustomed to a person’s body when you spend every waking moment with them.

“give it to me honey,” he pleads, unrelenting with his strokes, desperate for you to come undone beneath him before he lost it all completely.

your whines become frenzied mewls, panting and sighing into his neck.

steve’s arms tremble, succumbing to his own climax, especially when your thighs spur him on, entrapping him inside, your cunt clenching, tumbling over the edge with a chorus of pleas and utterances of his names.

“ohh yeah- oh fuck yeah,” pumping thick ropes of cum into your hole, a decision he’d probably come back to regret. that didn’t matter now, not with you so placid underneath him, clutching onto his damp skin like you’d never let him go.

he all but collapses, chest to chest, both heaving against one another. you sigh wearily, running your fingers along his shoulder, right up to his cheek, “i don’t think we were very quiet,” chuckling into the warm air.

he shakes his head, “that’s your fault,” brushing the wisps of hair from your sticky forehead, admiring your spent state.

“i love you, steve,” saying it aloud for the first time, exasperated but wholly true nonetheless.

steve chokes on his tongue, the words had laid dormant for months now, only they fail to form at the most crucial time. dumbfounded by your admission as if it weren’t obvious.

he coughs up a reply, cradling your jaw in his palm, “i love you too.. i really do,” slow brushes of his thumb on your skin, proving his full adoration of you.

your smile causes his heart to thump, “i know.. but you gotta get off me so i can shower,” gently pushing his dead weight away, rolling out from underneath.

his heart full of love and affection, you were everything to him and you hadn’t a clue.

steve awakens to your alarm blaring, the weight of your body keeping him anchored to the bed. he peers over your lifeless body to the clock, 7:32 it reads.

fuck.

he was late.

he peels your arm from his side, rolling out of bed to slam his fist on the frankly grating clock. you grumble in response, reaching your arm out for his hand, “don’t go,” murmuring into the pillow as you come around.

“honey, i’m late,” he coos, pulling his sweatpants on, the remnants of your makeover smeared all over the pillow. “i’ll see you later, okay?” leaning over to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, receiving nothing but a soft hum in response.

he hadn’t thought any more of his face until he busted through the locker room doors, receiving ten-fold the usual stares he’d get.

they all snicker amongst themselves, elbowing one another as his heart sinks to his ass. dating you was one thing, wearing makeup was an entirely different thing.

steve wants to die, far more than he usually does at this time of day. shoving himself into the far corner in hopes that they’d leave him alone enough to allow him to scrub at it.

“are you wearing eyeliner?” jason perks up, grimacing right in his face. never subtle nor ever caring to be.

steve shakes his head, his fingers trembling as he drops his bag on the bench, wondering if it’d be easier to just sprint out of here before tommy clocks on.

too fucking late.

tommy rounds the corner just as he takes off his shirt, a littering of violet markings scattered across his neck and collarbones. in any other circumstance, he’d show them off, be proud to be claimed by you.

but not now. not as tommy whistles, scoffing to himself, “holy shit, what’re you fucking a vampire or somethin’?” the quip leaving his lips before he has time to spot the dark rings around his eyes.

“fuck off,” steve retorts, pulling his jersey over his mop of hair, he’d had no time to style it this morning, treasuring his time with you instead.

“you wearing makeup?” tommy punches his shoulder, far heavier than steve could brush off as just playful banter, “my god, steve.. she’s turned you into a fucking queer,” his words snide and venomous.

a tongue so heavy and harsh, steve was genuinely surprised that that was the worst he’d said.

though it doesn’t lessen the sting, watching the locker room erupt into laughter at his expense.

tommy doesn’t deserve a reaction, knowing full well that any retaliation would end in a bloody nose and a busted lip.

everything was new to steve, being the laughed-at rather than the laugher. now he understands why eddie hated him, why robin wasn’t interested in friendship or why people seemed to turn the other way when he was coming.

it’s dreadful, the whirling nausea in his stomach and the flaming hot feel of his cheeks. nothing could’ve ever prepared him for being on the receiving end of tommy’s abuse.

he barges past, desperate to just get their mandated practice over with and get the hell away from them all.

he hadn’t understood it until now, how scared he must have made people feel, how dreadful he must have made their lives- your life.

and eddie’s.

steve didn’t deserve you at all, nor the kindness of your friends or your forgiveness for that matter. you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t get uneasy over eyeliner or kept you a secret for the first three months of your relationship.

steve knows now that he wasn’t ashamed of you, he was scared.

scared of tommy and his poisonous tongue, his teammates beady, judgemental eyes that saw him- saw you- as less than.

he can’t face you tonight, unworthy of your warm bed and gentle embrace. questioning whether he had the gall to ever face you again.

music thumps from below, showing no signs of stopping. a few months ago steve would have been right down there with them all, probably letting his mind wander back to you, just like it was doing now.

he doesn’t like being here much anymore, the boys were too loud, too boisterous for steve to settle properly. the smell of stale beer and shoddily rolled joints lingered in every room, miles apart from your cluttered yet tidy house

he misses your bed, with the clean blankets and the fresh sage and lavender you kept in vases around your room.

he misses you.

screw it.

if he wasn’t going to sleep well here, he might as well go back to where he belongs. shoving clothes into his bag without a second thought, he practically lived with you anyway, his own drawer full of clothes and other random shit he’d accrued.

the clock reads 1:31, you’d probably be asleep but he’ll try his luck either way, the spare key tucked under the doormat if you really didn’t answer.

sliding down the stairs and out of the door before anyone could notice him and poke fun at his co-dependency issues.

it was only a short walk to your place, one he’d done a thousand times by now. passing other students just getting back from the bar or the library, paying him no mind, not like they used to.

steve prefers it this way, without the notoriety that came with being tommy’s lapdog.

tommy upset a lot of people, so in their eyes, steve also upset a lot of people.

he supposes that’s fair, he’d never tried to intervene or stop tommy’s behaviour, a willing participant just by being there.

he’d got his comeuppance though, what with being shunned by his basketball teammates and now becoming bullied as opposed to the bully.

fortunately, there’s no time to stew on what his karmic punishment may be, sidling up the cracked path to your front door in record time.

much to his surprise your light is on upstairs, a faint orange glow from behind the curtain. it settled his raging heart to know you were only seconds away.

rapping his knuckles lightly against the door, hoping he’ll catch your attention and not robin’s. he could pelt pebbles at your window he supposes, truly old school romance. but he’s not sure how much you’ll appreciate that.

the thought is futile anyway, he can hear your feet shuffle and creep down the stairs, flickering the lights on as you go.

inching the door open to peer out, not expecting steve on the other side, “steve? what’re you doing here?” though you don’t sound angry, or even slightly annoyed for that matter. you look relieved that he’s here, after what was clearly a restless night for you too.

“sorry, i tried.. i missed you too much,” pathetically shrugging his shoulders, “-is that my shirt?” knowing full well that it was.

your head dips, becoming immediately bashful, “yeah, i missed you, i’m sorry,” pulling at the worn hem, weary eyed and full of sleep. “come in, it’s cold,” tugging him inside by the hand and locking the door behind him.

steve glances up the stairs, he knows the drill by now. traipsing after you like a little lost dog, he can’t help but let his eyes trail down to your thighs, his favourite tattoo of yours, a snake that wrapped around your leg peeks out from under his shirt.

“and my boxers?” reaching out to brush his hand over your thigh, resisting the urge to pinch and grope like he really wanted.

“sorry,” flashing a smile over your shoulder, “i told you i missed you,” hushed whispers as you pass robin’s room, her soft snores heard from the hallway.

“stop saying sorry, i like it,” he mutters, clicking the door closed. back in his domicile, a wave of comfort washing over him immediately.

“then good,” cradling his cold cheeks, “i’m glad you like it,” placing a soft, docile kiss on his lips, clutching onto his hip, desperate to keep him close after a torturous twelve hours apart.

steve hums in appreciation, relishing in the moment, wafts of coconut from your shampoo fill his nose as his chin settles on your head.

“i don’t think i like sleeping without you anymore,” he’s laughing but he’s deadly serious, he felt empty without you, like a piece of himself was missing.

there’d never been a time that steve had thought he’d become one of those unhealthy co-dependent people, but now he understands it completely. wanting to share your company constantly, missing your adoring touch and sarcastic jokes at his expense.

“mhm, you don’t have to,” swaying in the low light, where the edges of you are a little fuzzy but his brain is still too amped up to sleep.

“did i wake you up?” steve asks, lingering hands on your back before breaking apart.

you shake your head no, kicking your obnoxiously cliche bunny slippers off under the bed, “i couldn’t sleep.. something was missing but i’m not sure what,” cracking a smile, tucking yourself into the soft blankets.

ridding himself of his sweatshirt and jeans before crawling on in, right next to you. at peace once more, fatigue seeping through his veins.

“how was your day?” he asks, settling in to his rightful space.

your eyes roll back, “same old.. i passed that report i was worried about though, what about you? you look exhausted,” jutting out your bottom lip.

steve mumbles some half-assed response, something about a long day and being tired but you’re too wise to his tricks, tilting your head when he doesn’t answer your question.

“what happened?” settling into the bed next to him, “was it tommy again?” pulling the blanket tight around your shoulders, peeking inquisitively over the pillow.

steve hums, staring at the ceiling, “i forgot to take that makeup off last night,” shrugging, because to most it wasn’t a big deal but people like tommy and jason aren’t in the 90s like the rest of humanity.

“and they had a problem with that?” you ask, rather naively, because what other reaction would they have?

“mhm,” he nods, swallowing his hurt, “tommy said some shit.. brought you up, it’s just- stupid, they’re stupid,” not seeing the need to repeat what he had said verbatim but hopefully saying enough for you to understand.

he can’t see you though he can hear the blanket ruffle, “what’d he say?”

steve doesn’t want to repeat it. he’s said some stupid things throughout high school but that wasn’t him anymore.

“he.. he called me a- babe i don’t- i’m not saying it,” turning to face you, pleading with you to understand. “he said you made me.. gay, alright?”

your brow knits together, doubtful that it were just annoyance and not pure wrath, “what a fucking-,” stopping yourself from saying anything else, that wasn’t the intention, “did it upset you?”

steve contemplates for a second, truthfully, he hadn’t really been able to really articulate his feelings. he wasn’t upset that he’d been called that, more so upset that someone he once called a friend could think so little of him over eyeliner.

“i don’t know.. i’m not gay- i mean, i don’t have any problem with it, it’s just-,” he sighs, struggling to find the right words, “i dunno, he just said it so.. so angrily.. like it’d be the worst thing in the world if i was.”

you exhale, not meeting his eye, “tommy’s just.. jealous, he’s intimidated by anyone that isn’t like him,” a concentrated look settles on your face, “he doesn’t have a job or a girlfriend, i mean, he’s barely gonna graduate.. it’s no surprise he’s pissed off that you’ve grown up without him.”

it’s undeniably the truth, and yet it still hurts.

this stemmed from tommy’s inability to grow up, and his raging jealousy towards anyone who was actually comfortable enough to be themselves. steve knows what tommy said to you, visiting the bar where you work just to try and get into your pants behind his back.

he doesn’t hate you, he hates that you don’t care what he thinks of you. and neither does steve. anymore at least.

“you’re really good at this,” he snickers, reaching over to stroke your cheek, “i don’t say it enough but i really appreciate you.”

your smile creeps onto your lips, eyes creasing as it grows, “you say it, don’t worry,” leaning into his soft hand, “or you show me, at least,” feeling your smirk against his palm.

“oh yeah? how do i do that then?” letting his own lips quirk up.

“hmm lots of ways,” dismissing him with a shake of the head, “like when you kiss my head every morning before you leave orrr..” failing to turn this conversation around, “when you make me cum three times before even thinking about yourself.”

that was honestly just his duty as your boyfriend, your pleasure is paramount and seeing your eyes roll back and your thighs start to tremble meant the world.

his chuckle bellows, louder than intended. “i’ll always make sure you cum first, don’t worry,” gaze flickering back to the ceiling, contemplating his next words. “even when we’re old and gray,” he’d been thinking it for a while, you deserved to know too.

“oh?” yawning through your words, “are we going to get old and gray together then?” as if it weren’t a certainty.

steve hums, unsure of how much detail to divulge, “oh yeah, i’ve got this all planned out,” his tongue clicks against his teeth, “you just have to agree.”

you laugh sleepily, talking into the soft pillow at this point, “and you think you’re gonna tie me down?”

he pauses again, “hmm no, i know i’m gonna marry you,” waiting for your reaction to his outlandish claim, though it doesn’t come.

steve looks over, finding your eyes pressed shut and your mouth slightly open, soft snores floating out and into your room.

“goodnight then,” reaching over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before flicking the lamp off and settling in.

he would die a happy man if he got to talk nonsense with you for even one more night.

eddie was hesitant to invite steve, it was his birthday after all. he understood, it’d take a while to earn his trust and respect, that was fair.

but you were insistent, pestering eddie until he crumbled and said steve could join you all at the bar. so long as he was nice and didn’t bring any trouble.

easy enough.

steve keeps with you mostly, trailing around after you like a lost puppy dog. fetching drinks and accompanying you to and from the bathroom. fulfilling any and all boyfriend duties.

“i’m just going to get another drink,” standing from the booth to shuffle over his legs, “stay here, i won’t be long,” patting his shoulder rather patronisingly.

oh no.

robin was in the bathroom, you were going and the two guys that eddie had arrived with were in a heated game of pool inside. leaving him no choice but to talk to him.

“you’ll be okay, won’t you?” already walking off, leaving him with really no other option but to make awkward small talk with eddie.

steve can sense how painfully awkward this was about to be, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the other without you here to mediate.

no doubt some cunning plan of yours to get them talking.

he determines that being the one to break the silence is the better move, clearing his throat before speaking, “so.. you having a nice birthday?”

“mhm,” short and curt, exactly as he expected. “i’m glad..” clearly struggling to be nice, “glad you could come,” his eyes flicker to the stone floor, “you’re not so bad, actually.”

wow.

steve almost falls out of his chair.

he doesn’t know what to say, eddie had never been so polite, “th-thank you,” eddie already thought of steve as a loser, he didn’t need to make it any worse.

eddie offers his cigarette carton out to steve, an olivia branch of peace or something. at least that was how steve saw it. it’d be rude not to take one.

“thanks,” he hums, lighting the cigarette himself before offering his lighter out.

it’s peaceful, and far less awkward than it had been just twenty minutes ago. maybe they could be friends, they had a common interest after all.

“you know i used to overcharge you for weed, right?” eddie chuckles, taking a drag of his cigarette, narrowed eyes focused on steve.

he just sighs because yes, you had explained in great detail that thirty dollars was nowhere near the correct price for a gram of weed. “yeah.. she told me,” smiling back through his embarrassment.

“sorry dude,” he shrugs, though it sounds completely insincere, “but you deserved it,” stubbing out the embers of his cigarette.

“yeah, that’s fair,” he’d done far worse, he’s sure.

just as they collapse into laughter, you and robin swan back through the door, carrying a tray of what looked like tequila.

“absolutely not,” eddie cries out, watching robin grin as you hand them out.

“it’s your birthday! don’t be so bor-“ interrupted as the door swings open again, a chorus of voices steve unfortunately recognised following suit.

tommy, and his new lackeys stumble in, catching sight of your little party immediately.

“this is sweet,” he mocks, “where was my invite, stevie? i thought we were best friends!” his tone patronising and his eyes narrow and dark, just as they were in the locker room.

steve doesnt meet his eye, his didn’t deserve that respect. “we should go..” finding your infuriated gaze instead, noticing your clenched jaw.

this wasn’t a fight worth having.

tommy’d win whatever happened.

“leaving so soon? but we just got here!” sneering at your silenced group, “c’mon man, where’s your hospitality?” swaggering over to the table, an overbearing grin that steve wants to wipe right off of his face.

he won’t. of course.

this is eddie’s birthday and tommy’s thoughtless stunts won’t get in the way of him becoming friends with your friends.

but eddie’s up before steve can do anything about it, fist drawn back until it quickly meets tommy’s nose, a loud crack and a guttural groan follows.

tommy grabs his nose, only to pull it back stained red, “what the fuck man!” staggering backwards like he didn’t deserve that and worse.

eddie turns, entirely unfazed by his actions, “i think we should go home,” finding each of your eyes. he didn’t look ashamed, or even slightly concerned about the blossoming bruises on his knuckles, instead, he was proud.

steve can’t sling his arm around him fast enough, stumbling out of the bar in sheer shock that that had really just happened. someone had finally shown tommy hagan up.

“thanks man,” steve mutters into his ear, watching as you and robin attempt to hail a cab.

eddie claps his hand against steve’s back, shaking his head slightly, “that wasn’t just for you,” his eyes trained on your back, “but her too.”

their shared affection for you had been their means to come together, steve can recognise that eddie only ever wanted what was best for you. and now he thinks that eddie might just see that he was worthy enough to be that.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader

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rowinablx · 1 month ago

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Buckle up, because I’ve had it with the relentless toxicity from a certain subset of Buddie shippers who seem hell-bent on turning a fun fandom into a cesspool of harassment, bitterness, and entitlement—specifically aimed at BuckTommy shippers and Lou. This isn’t about all Buddie fans—many of you are lovely and just want to enjoy your ship in peace—but this is a loud, unhinged call-out to the vocal majority who’ve taken it way too far. You know who you are, and it’s time to sit down and listen.

First off, let’s talk about the sheer audacity of harassing BuckTommy shippers for simply liking a canon pairing. Buck and Tommy’s relationship became a thing in Season 7, and for a lot of us, it was a breath of fresh air—Buck exploring his bisexuality with a guy who’s got charm, depth, and a bit of grit. It’s not perfect, sure, but it’s real, and it’s happening on screen. Meanwhile, Buddie remains a fanon ship—beautifully crafted by fans over years, no doubt, but still not canon. And instead of just enjoying your headcanons, writing your fics, and letting others vibe with what the show’s giving us, some of you have decided that anyone who dares enjoy BuckTommy is a traitor, a fetishizer, or worse. The insults fly—calling us homophobic for liking a queer couple (ironic much?), accusing us of “settling” for a “lesser” ship, or claiming we don’t get the “true” story of Buck and Eddie. Newsflash: shipping isn’t a loyalty oath. People can like what they like without it being a personal attack on your dreams of Buddie domestic bliss. The fact that you’re out here bullying fans for vibing with a different pairing is pathetic—it’s not a competition, it’s a TV show.

But oh no, it doesn’t stop at fandom infighting. You’ve taken it to a whole other level by targeting Lou Ferrigno Jr. himself. This man is just doing his job, playing a character the writers gave him, and yet some of you have made it your mission to tear him apart. Death threats? Harassment on social media? Spreading baseless rumors about him? There’s chatter online about how you’ve bragged about running actresses off the show with your vitriol, and now you’ve got Lou in your crosshairs. What’s the crime here? That Tommy dared to kiss Buck instead of Eddie? That Lou had the gall to show up and act in scenes you didn’t personally approve? It’s unhinged. The guy took a break from social media during the hiatus between Seasons 7 and 8—gee, I wonder why—and instead of reflecting on how your actions might’ve contributed to that, some of you spun wild conspiracies about him being “hacked” by Buddie fans to make him look bad. No evidence, just vibes and a desperate need to villainize anyone who isn’t Ryan Guzman or Oliver Stark. It’s embarrassing.

And let’s not pretend this is about “protecting” the show’s integrity or some noble cause. This is about entitlement. You’ve built up Buddie in your heads for years—seven seasons of subtext, longing looks, and fanfics—and now that the show’s gone a different route with Buck’s arc, you’re throwing a tantrum. Tommy’s not “Eddie 2.0” or a “plot device” because you say so; he’s a character with his own history, flaws, and potential. But instead of engaging with that, you nitpick every line he says—“Oh, he didn’t dress up for the bachelor party!” “He made a daddy joke, how dare he!”—and twist it into proof he’s a terrible partner. Meanwhile, Eddie’s dry sarcasm or questionable dating history gets a free pass because he’s your golden boy. The double standard is glaring. You’re not mad because Tommy’s poorly written (he’s had as much development as most of Buck’s love interests); you’re mad because he’s not Eddie. And instead of coping with that like adults, you lash out at Lou, at BuckTommy fans, at anyone who doesn’t bow to your vision.

The hypocrisy kills me too. You’ll scream about how BuckTommy shippers are “toxic” for defending our corner, but you’re the ones sending hate mail, making call-out posts, and wishing death on a fictional character—and sometimes his actor—just to clear the path for your ship. I’ve seen posts on Twitter where people say they’ve turned against Buddie entirely because of how you’ve treated them for liking BuckTommy. You’re not just hurting your own cause; you’re alienating people who might’ve been neutral or even supportive. And for what? A ship that, as of 2025, still isn’t canon and might never be? The showrunners aren’t caving to your demands—they’ve doubled down on Buck’s journey with Tommy—so maybe it’s time to take a hint and chill.

Here’s the kicker: I get it. Buddie’s got a special spark—years of friendship, trust, and those heart-wrenching moments that make you root for them. I’ve read the fics, I’ve seen the edits, and I used to ship it. But that doesn’t give you a free pass to ruin everyone else’s fun. Multi-shipping exists. Liking BuckTommy doesn’t erase Buddie’s potential, and harassing Lou doesn’t make Eddie confess his love any faster. You’re not “saving” the show by attacking people; you’re poisoning a fandom that used to be about celebrating 9-1-1’s chaos and heart. So how about this: write your stories, make your art, and let the rest of us enjoy ours. Stop acting like you own Buck’s heart—or Lou’s career—and maybe, just maybe, we can all coexist without this endless ship war bullshit. Because right now? Your toxicity’s the real villain here, and it’s getting old.

#anti buddie #anti buddie shippers #911 #911 on abc #bucktommy #lou ferrigno jr #tommy kinard

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months ago

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Neverland

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Vacation

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Cruise ship; Musician Eddie; Kids' entertainer Steve; Steve in a dress; Homophobic language; Sexual tension; Eddie being a horny disaster

Notes: Based on this brainworm. Artwork of Steve and Robin in their costumes, done by the incredible @arelliann this way.

“Hey, aren’t you on the band?”

Eddie stops his beeline for the staff room, stuffing the hand that was just about to rip off the bowtie back into his pocket, and turns to face the couple that has strolled up to him.

“Yeah?” he offers.

“I knew it,” the woman smiles. “You play the guitar, right?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie says, unable to help the proud upturn of his mouth. “Glad you liked it.”

The stuff they’re having him play is horrible, but at least he made an impression. It only goes to show how a skilled musician can turn even the most atrocious pieces into-

“Oh, we didn’t,” says the guy conversationally. “We thought it was horrible.”

Eddie gapes at them. They look back, like they’re honestly expecting him to reply anything that isn’t fuck you, you rich, entitled assholes. Maybe that’s what he should say. What are they gonna do, keelhaul him?

Except Wayne was so eager for him to take this gig. Two weeks on the board band of the MS Neverland, the Harrington Line's newest, shiniest, luxury cruise ship. He was so hopeful that this might be something Eddie would enjoy, and Eddie thought why the hell not? It sounded like an easy time, a paid vacation doing what he loved most.

Except it isn't. The jazz music is making his skin crawl, the passengers are a bunch of stuck-up snobs, and the green suit jacket and matching bowtie make him look like some kind of demented leprechaun.

But he can’t come crawling back home to confess that it didn’t work out.

“Erm,” he says. “Okay. Sorry, I guess.”

Then, he books it for the staff room, stomach twisting and face burning.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he slips inside, slumping against the door and hiding his face in his hands. “This is so humiliating.”

“Yeah,” says a voice. “Tell me about it.”

Eddie lowers his hands.

There's a guy on the ratty couch at the other side of the room. A guy in sheer tights, glittering tulle wings and a dangerously short green dress.

Eddie almost swallows his own tongue.

“Hey,” says the guy, shucking off his slippers. There's little fluffy poufs on them. “I've seen you before. You're in the band, right?”

“Hrrrgh,” Eddie says. The apparition tilts its head. Eddie pretends to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I'm the guitar. I mean play. I play guitar. I've seen you, too.”

In fact, seen may be too tame a word for what he's been doing. Ogle the way the skirt rides up his thighs until his eyes almost popped out of their sockets is more like it. It's kind of hard not to, he guesses. He's caught several passengers of various genders and ages do the same.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah?”

Eddie nods.

“You're the … erm … kids’ entertainer. The fairy- no, shit, that sounds wrong. The … Tinker- … Tinkerdude.”

The guy throws back his head and laughs. His throat looks impossibly long in the low-necked dress.

“Oh my God, that's a new one. I love it.”

“What, really?” Eddie asks, chest fluttering with irrational pride. “I mean … you do?”

Tinkerdude nods. Then, suddenly, something seems to occur to him.

“Oh, do you mind?” he says, standing from the couch. “This thing is a bitch to get off.”

Eddie is about to ask what he means, but then Tinkerdude gestures at something on the back of the dress, something half hidden between the wings, and … oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie’s in so much trouble.

“Um, sure,” is what he says. Luckily, Tinkerdude has already turned his back, so he doesn’t see how Eddie’s legs wobble as he bridges the few steps between them.

“So, why the dress?” he asks, just to say anything while his clammy hands struggle with the rickety zipper. “Wasn't there, like, a Peter Pan costume?”

Tinkerdude chuckles. “There was, but I gave it to Robin. She was threatening to jump off board if she had to wear this, and I couldn't risk that. And besides, I make a great fairy. My dad calls me one all the time. Thanks, I got it from here.”

The dress falls open, revealing broad, muscled shoulders, and inches upon inches of suntanned skin. It's riddled in moles. Small ones, large ones, some light and some so dark they look almost black, scattered all over the guy's back, all the way down to the dip of his spine and the curve of his-

Eddie reels backwards, trips over the slippers and just barely manages to turn his fall into a clumsy collapse into the sofa. It groans. Or maybe that was him.

Tinkerdude, luckily, doesn’t notice. He's too busy shimmying into the jeans he's just pulled from the rucksack by the couch - all without taking off the tights, mind you, and how the fuck is Eddie supposed to live with the knowledge of what's under that skintight denim?

“What's your name?”

Eddie jerks his eyes up. Tinkerdude, who has paused with his shirt in his hands, is looking at him with a quizzical expression and Eddie can't help but wonder if he's asked him that before. His chest has moles, too. So do his stomach and hips. The dress is bunched around his middle like a sparkly green miniskirt. The fact that the wings seem to be spouting from his butt does, unfairly, not diminish his hotness.

“I, erm … Eddie,” Eddie croaks. Tinkerdude smiles and shrugs into his shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says. “I'm Steve.”

He lets the dress drop to the ground, carelessly stuffing it inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Looking forward to hearing you play again,” he calls as he breezes out. “I think you're really good.”

Then he's gone and Eddie’s left alone in the staff room, trying to recover from whatever it was that just happened.

Neverland just got one helluva lot more interesting.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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lupinqs · 6 months ago

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CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ Home, For Christmas

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.3K

☆ ━ warnings: subtle talks of dani’s bitchass homophobic dad what’s new

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: in honor of gameday 🫡sorry this took so long you guys!!!! hopefully the next one won’t lol ALSO! y’all i wrote julia in for a reason, she will end up being important :)

CHRISTMAS DAY at her grandparents’ house is always cozy and warm, filled with laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine. Dani’s family fills the living room, sprawled across couches, perched on armchairs, and gathered around the fireplace. Her aunts and uncles are trading stories, her little cousins are running around in holiday pajamas, and there’s a pile of presents under the tree, each one wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Dani sits in the corner of the couch, balancing her youngest aunt Julia’s newborn, Grey, in her lap. She’s been fawning over him all day, enchanted by his tiny fingers and the little yawns he lets out every now and then. His downy dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and his soft little hands rest against her arm as she holds him, his eyes drifting closed with that peaceful look babies seem to have mastered.

Julia, who’s only twenty-five and just as warm and lovely as Dani remembers from her childhood, sits beside her, watching Dani with a smile. “You’ve got the magic touch, Dani,” she says, nudging her gently. “He hasn’t fallen asleep for anyone else yet today.”

Dani grins, glancing down at Grey as he lets out a tiny sigh. “Guess he knows I’m his favorite already,” she jokes, stroking the baby’s soft cheek.

Julia shifts a little, leaning back against the couch, and after a moment, she glances sideways at Dani. “How’s your dad been doing?” she asks quietly, her tone careful.

Dani rolls her eyes, her expression slipping into something neutral. “It’s… whatever,” she says, keeping her voice low. “We don’t really talk much.”

Julia nods, understanding written all over her face. “Yeah. Me neither.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, and Dani knows why. Julia is certainly not married to Grey’s father, him having left long before Grey was born. It’s something that Dani’s dad has shamed Julia for, his conservative views casting his half sister as some kind of disgrace. Dani’s heard the things he’s said about her—heard him scoff at Julia’s life choices like they were some kind of moral failure.

She looks at Julia, her heart aching for her. “I’m sorry,” Dani says quietly. “He’s like that with everything, not just you.”

Julia lets out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to Grey, who’s now fully asleep, his little face relaxed and peaceful. “I know,” she murmurs. “But it still sucks. I just wish he could see… it’s not like I planned for things to turn out this way. But I love Grey. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She smiles down at her son, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s just a difficult situation.”

Dani nods, her throat tight. “Yeah. I get it.” She glances down at Grey, feeling the familiar warmth in her chest. She doesn’t understand why her dad has to be so harsh, so unwilling to forgive. She’s been on that side of things when her own secret came to light, and when that same judgment had been turned on her, it was terrible.

Dani adjusts her grip on Grey, who shifts a little in his sleep, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her sweater.

After a moment, Julia speaks again, her voice soft. “So… are you and Paige still not talking?” she asks, her tone careful, but curious. “Last I heard, you two weren’t friends anymore.”

Dani’s stomach tightens a little, her gaze shifting to the floor. Julia’s met Paige plenty of times—Paige was practically family, as far as her grandparents and aunts were concerned. Dani can still remember how much her mom adored Paige, how her mom used to say that Paige was the best thing to happen to her, that Paige brought out this light in her daughter that she hadn’t seen in anyone else. It’s something that, in her quiet moments, Dani clings to—thinking that maybe her mom really would have understood her situation.

“Paige was always so sweet,” Julia continues, almost wistfully. “And I remember how much your mom loved her, Dani. She always said Paige was the best friend you could ever have.”

Dani sighs, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her chest tightens with the urge to spill everything—to tell Julia about how it was so much more than just friendship, how Paige is basically her entire world, how they love each other in a much different way than most know. Dani knows Julia isn’t homophobic, and she can’t imagine Julia judging her, especially after everything Julia herself has been through with her dad and such.

But the words catch in her throat. Her fear is too strong, a familiar, icy weight. She imagines what would happen if anything she said got back to her dad, even by accident. She remembers the camp, the isolation, the way it felt like she was being slowly erased. The thought of going back there makes her stomach twist with dread.

She takes a slow breath, then finally says, “No, we’re still not friends.” Her voice is flat, and she hates how empty it sounds. “And we’re… we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

Julia frowns, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Dani’s arm. “I’m sorry, Dani. That must be so hard. Losing a friend like that… I can only imagine.”

Dani just nods, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Grey, who’s still blissfully asleep. “It is.”

Julia gives her a soft smile, a silent offer of comfort, but Dani barely notices, her mind drifting to thoughts of Paige. She feels like she’s buried that love as deeply as she can—hidden it away in a place where her dad and the church can’t touch it.

And she’s going to stay that way. Because that is what is going to keep it safe.

DANI SINKS into her blankets, watching Christmas Vacation play on her laptop, the warmth of the bed comforting against the bite of winter outside. She’d asked her dad to watch the movie with her, hoping for at least a little shared Christmas cheer, but he’d just brushed her off with a brief mutter of how tired he was. So here she is, alone, her room dimly lit, a quiet feeling of loneliness settling in.

The Griswold family is just finishing fitting their huge Christmas tree in their living room when Dani’s phone lights up beside her. She glances down and finds Paige’s name on her screen. Her heart does a little flip as she picks it up, biting back a smile.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

You home yet?

Dani ❤️‍🔥

yeah i got home like an hour ago

Paige ❤️‍🔥

you doing anything?

Dani pauses, glancing at her screen.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

watching christmas vacation in my bed

She sends the message and internally cringes a little as she realizes how lonely it sounds.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

By yourself?

Come over and watch it with me and my fam

Dani laughs softly, rolling her eyes. Of course Paige wouldn’t let her stay alone, not tonight. Paige always has that unwavering energy, that impulsive streak that Dani has never been able to resist.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

paige my dad’s home

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Sneak out!!!

I’ll come get you by your window

Dani stares at the screen, a little stunned, a little thrilled. Her fingers hover over the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

you’re insane

Paige ❤️‍🔥

And yet ur not saying no 😁😁

A grin tugs at Dani’s lips, and she feels her pulse quicken. She glances at her door, hoping and praying for her sake that her dad was true on his word and that he’s asleep, then quietly swings her legs off the bed. Closing her laptop, she grabs her thickest hoodie from her chair, pulling it over her head. She finds her Uggs under the bed, slipping them on and making her way to the window, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers fumble a bit as she undoes the lock, the cold air hitting her face the moment she slides it open.

Peering outside, she feels her heart skip as she spots Paige standing below. Paige is bundled up in her coat, hands deep in her pockets, and despite the shivering, she’s grinning up at Dani like this is the most natural thing in the world. Snow has started to fall again, gentle flakes catching in Paige’s hair and dusting her shoulders. She looks really pretty.

“Hey!” Paige calls up softly, her voice a mix of excitement and impatience. “You comin’ down, or what?”

Dani can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She leans out a little, gripping the window frame for balance. “This is so stupid, you know that?” she whispers, trying not to laugh too loud.

Paige just shrugs, her grin undeterred. “Live a little!”

Dani laughs softly, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. She glances down, assessing the climb, feeling a pang of nervousness when she sees just how far the ground looks. Her window isn’t exactly low, and she can’t be sure the snow is soft. She swallows, feeling her pulse quicken as she considers her next move.

“Paige,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down but still sounding panicked, “I’m going to fall!”

“If you do, I’ll catch you!” Paige whispers back, her voice carrying a confidence that only makes Dani’s heart beat faster. “Besides, there’s like a foot of fresh snow down here. You’ll be fine.”

Paige waves, motioning for her to climb down. Dani takes a deep breath, telling herself she’s done more dangerous things in her life than sneaking out of her own house. She slowly climbs through the window, her fingers gripping the cold edges of the siding as she carefully makes her way down. She’s almost to the bottom, just a couple of feet away from the ground, when her foot slips on the last ledge.

She lets out a small yelp, her fingers losing their grip, and she starts to tumble. There’s a split second of weightlessness, her heart in her throat, and then Paige’s arms are around her, just enough to slow her fall before they both collapse into the snow in a heap. The impact sends a puff of snow up around them, freezing and soft at the same time. Dani’s breath catches as she feels Paige’s arms around her, the warmth of her body cutting through the biting cold.

For a moment, they just lie there in the snow, laughing softly, breathless and tangled together. Their faces are close, so close that Dani can feel Paige’s breath against her cheek, warm and sweet, mingling with the cold night air. Paige’s cheeks are flushed pink, her nose red from the cold, and there’s a light in her eyes that makes Dani’s heart skip a beat.

Paige reaches up, brushing a few stray snowflakes from Dani’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You good?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dani nods, her own cheeks flushed. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—their knees, their hands, the faint tremor in Paige’s touch as her fingers trace along Dani’s cheek. She shivers, but this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

Paige nods back, looking thoughtful, her hand dropping to swipe a bit of snow off Dani’s shoulder. She glances around, making sure no one’s watching, before leaning in. Her eyes search Dani’s face for a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, before she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against Dani’s.

The kiss is barely more than a whisper, a featherlight touch that’s over almost as soon as it begins. But it leaves Dani breathless, her heart racing in her chest as she looks up at Paige. There’s a warmth in Paige’s eyes that makes Dani’s stomach flutter, a tenderness that feels like the best Christmas gift she’s ever received.

Paige pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice warm, filled with a quiet joy that Dani feels mirrored in her own chest. Paige helps her to her feet, brushing snow off their coats as they stand together, grinning like conspirators in the snowy silence.

They link arms, Paige’s hand slipping into Dani’s pocket to hold her hand, the feeling of Paige’s fingers warming her whole body up. Together, they start making their way toward Paige’s house, the snow crunching beneath their feet, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

They go through the back door of Paige’s house, each of them letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth surrounds them, chasing away the icy chill of the Minnesota night. Dani takes a moment to close her eyes, basking in the feeling of warmth creeping back into her fingers and toes, the familiar smell of cookies, cinnamon, and evergreen filling the air.

There in the kitchen, Drew is perched on a stool by the island, his legs swinging idly as he chews on a Christmas cookie dusted with red and green sprinkles. Bob, Paige’s dad, stands near the stove, pulling sprinkles out of a cabinet. A tray of freshly baked cookies cools on the counter, the sweet scent drifting through the room. Bob’s face lights up when he sees Dani and Paige sneaking in, a broad grin stretching across his face.

“Dani! Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, waving her over as if she were his own daughter. “I saved a couple cookies for you, but they almost fell victim to that creature—” he points to Drew, who giggles at the wording, frosting dusting the corners of his mouth “—over there.”

Dani laughs, an easy grin drifting to her face as she says, “I can see that. Thanks for letting me come over; I didn’t mean to intrude on family Christmas.”

Paige rolls her eyes, her hand on Dani’s hip as she pushes her toward the island. “Shut up, Dan, you’re never intruding.”

“She’s right,” Bob says cheerily, grabbing a couple plain cookies from the tray and placing them in front of the two empty stools next to Drew. “You’re family, Dani.”

Dani feels her face flush at his words, and her chest warms, too. It’s nice to know that they’re glad she’s here, that they don’t feel as though she’s intruding, that maybe she really belongs in this corner of her world. She’d really, really like to.

Dani sits on the bar stool next to Drew, and Paige sits on the other one so the brunette girl is in between the two Bueckers siblings. However, it seems as though the small distance between Dani and Paige is too much, because Dani feels Paige’s hand graze her thigh as she grabs hold of the stool Dani’s sat on, pulling it so close to her own that the two of them are practically sharing a seat. Their shoulders press against each other, as do the sides of their legs, and it’s enough to send a warm jolt through Dani.

Dani sends a little look to Paige, her brows raised ever so slightly, smirk playing her lips.

“What?” Paige asks, though she’s got a look that mirrors the Callan girl’s. “You were too far.”

Dani just shakes her head at the blonde’s words, watching as she grabs the remote and flicks through the Christmas movies until she finds Christmas Vacation, having told Dani that she should watch it with them instead and holding onto her word.

Dani feels a smile lifting her lips as she reaches for a cookie in the tray in front of her, placing it on her plate. She grabs a piping bag, too, squeezing a tiny bit of green icing onto her finger just to get a taste.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ into the icing already?” Paige teases, leaning in with an arched brow. She grabs her own piping bag and, without warning, dabs a bit of red frosting on the tip of Dani’s nose, laughing as Dani’s eyes widen.

Dani gasps, swatting at her with a laugh. “Paige!” she exclaims, grabbing her green icing before leaning over and spreading some onto Paige’s cheek in retaliation.

Paige’s mouth open in mock outrage, but before she can protest herself, Drew interrupts with a grin, reaching for another piping bag, and asking, “Are we having an icing fight?”

The seven-year-old’s words seem to catch Bob’s attention, who turns from where he was watching the movie to see what’s happening behind him. Dani watches his eyes trail over the green on her nose and the red on his daughter’s cheek and he gives them a playfully stern look before telling Drew, “No, buddy, no icing fight. You’ll get on Santa’s Naughty List next year if you do.”

Drew laughs a little, pointing at the two girls sitting next to him and saying, “Ooh, Naughty List.”

Paige just playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother before grabbing a napkin. She dramatically uses it to wipe the red icing off of her cheek, before balling it up and tossing it back onto the island. Dani rolls her eyes at the blonde’s dramatics, reaching to grab her own napkin to clean up her nose. But Paige swats at the hand Dani was reaching. Dani sends Paige a look, watching as the girl beside her cautiously glances at her dad and Drew—whose attention’s have both been captured by the movie—before leaning in and grinning as she kisses the tip of Dani’s nose and then sticks her tongue out to lick the icing away. She pulls back and Dani’s sure her face is red—especially due to the proximity of Paige’s family—but Paige is just smiling mischievously, using her tongue to swipe away any remaining frosting on her lips.

Dani finally takes the liberty to actually decorate her cookie, deciding for the traditional Christmas tree route. She’s spreading the green icing along the sugar cookie carefully, her eyes occasionally flicking between Christmas Vacation and Paige decorating her own cookie. It’s more endearing to watch the latter—she’s decorating with exaggerated precision (though if Dani’s honest, she can’t tell what the glob of frosting is meant to look like… it might be an ornament), her tongue sticking out in concentration, her hair falling into her face ever so slightly. Dani flicks her eyes away, back to her own handiwork.

At one point, Paige leans over to whisper to Dani, “Look at Drew’s cookie… the sprinkles…”

Dani does as the blonde says, her gaze finding Drew, to the left of her. He’s humming quietly to himself, concentrating on drowning his cookie in red and green sprinkles, his fingers sticky and his cheeks dusted with sugar. Dani stifles a giggle as she leans in even closer to see the cookie piled high with so many sprinkles that it’s almost unrecognizable. She catches Paige’s eye, and they both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to let Drew hear.

“Hey, it’s nice!” Drew defends, noticing their stifled laughter.

From where he’s standing, Bob chuckles, watching the exchange with a fond smile. “You’re doing great, Drew,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair, eyes flicking across the three cookies the kids before him are making. “Though, I think you and Paige both have some competition in Dani here.”

Dani watches as Paige looks at her dad in betrayal, though it’s true—her cookie is terrible. Dani just grins, nodding, nudging Paige’s knee under the counter. “Years of practice,” the brunette says in a mock-serious tone before carefully adding a few more sprinkles to her cookie.

Paige rolls her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever. Mine tastes better.”

CHRISTMAS VACATION ended not too long ago, and Drew and Bob went upstairs to bed, leaving Dani and Paige alone. The warm glow of the tree casts a soft light over the living room, and Home Alone now plays quietly on the screen, adding to the late-night comfort. Dani’s curled up against Paige, the two of them snuggled under a thick fleece blanket, Paige’s arm wrapped securely around her. Dani lets herself drift, lulled by the movie, the warmth, the way Paige’s fingers trace soft circles over her shoulder.

But then Paige shifts slightly beneath her, murmuring, “So… I know we promised not to get each other anything…”

Dani’s eyes immediately flick from the TV to Paige, her brow furrowing as she pulls back slightly, a hint of accusation in her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t get me something.”

Paige, looking a little sheepish, averts her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, mumbling, “Well…”

“Paige!” Dani sits up fully now, her voice holding a mixture of surprise and mild reproach. “We promised not to!”

“I know, I know!” Paige protests, her face flushed as she tries to defend herself. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear! But then I was at the mall literally yesterday, just doing some last-minute shopping for my family, and—” She pauses, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to explain. “I saw this thing that really reminded me of you…”

Dani sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as she shakes her head. “Paige…”

“I know,” Paige says quickly, hands lifted in a half-hearted attempt at appeasement. “But it was on sale because of the holidays! I hardly spent any money on it.”

Dani narrows her eyes, trying not to let the affection she feels soften her mock glare. “Still. I feel bad. If I’d known you’d gotten me something, I would’ve gotten you something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Paige says, shaking her head earnestly. “I was the one who went against our promise, not you.”

They fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the movie on the TV. Dani’s gaze flickers to Paige, whose face is shadowed in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in the way Paige looks at her, something almost tentative, and it makes Dani’s heart ache in a way she can’t quite name.

Finally, Paige speaks up again, her voice soft. “Can I go get it?”

Dani nods, and Paige disentangles herself from their cozy nest of blankets, slipping upstairs while Dani stays on the couch, her mind racing a little. She knows Paige put thought into this, that whatever it is, it’s going to mean something.

Moments later, Paige is bounding down the stairs again, a tiny jewelry box held carefully in her hand. She pauses by the couch, her gaze flickering between the box and Dani, and Dani watches her, heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

“Here,” Paige says softly, holding out the box as she sits back down beside Dani, even closer than before, their entire sides pressed up against each other.

Dani takes the box, feeling the slight weight of it in her hands, and slowly lifts the lid. Inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant small and simple—almost nondescript, but close up she can see the engraving on it, the tiny, intricate letters that spell out a single word: home.

Dani’s breath catches as she stares down at the pendant, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifts it. She can feel her throat tighten, emotion welling up inside her as the weight of the word hits her fully. It’s more than a necklace; it’s a message, a reminder of everything Paige has been to her, a promise that wherever Paige is, she’ll always have a place to belong.

She glances up at Paige, her eyes stinging, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you really thought of me when you saw this?”

Paige nods, her gaze soft and steady, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against Dani’s. “Yeah,” she says, her voice equally soft, almost like she’s afraid of breaking the moment. “I know things have been… hard, with your dad and everything. I just… I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’ll always have a home with me. No matter what.”

Dani feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She just lets the words sink in, lets herself feel the weight of Paige’s thoughtfulness, her kindness, the unwavering support Paige always seems to offer, even when Dani feels like she doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Paige moves closer, pulling Dani into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her. She rests her chin on top of Dani’s head, her fingers gently stroking her back, and Dani melts into her, closing her eyes and breathing in Paige’s familiar scent.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs into her hair, her voice soft and steady, filled with a warmth that wraps around Dani like a blanket.

Dani’s own arms tighten around Paige, and she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Then, slowly, Paige pulls back, her gaze meeting Dani’s, and there’s a question in her eyes, one Dani answers by leaning in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative at first, a quiet meeting of emotions unspoken. But as the seconds stretch, Dani lets herself get lost in it, her hand slipping up to rest against Paige’s cheek, her fingers brushing along her jaw. Paige’s hand finds the small of Dani’s back, pulling her in closer, and Dani feels her heart pounding, the warmth of Paige’s touch grounding her, steadying her.

When they finally pull back, their faces are close, their breaths mingling, and Dani can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s soft and true, filled with a happiness she rarely allows herself to feel.

Paige grins back, her fingers brushing over Dani’s cheek as she murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

Dani’s voice is quiet, but full of warmth. “Merry Christmas, Paige.”

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #hopkins p fic #take me to church #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #uconn #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader

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lihhelsing · 2 years ago

Text

“Hey!”

The next customer has chocolate brown eyes and long curly hair. He’s kind of cute, Steve thinks.

“Hi! What can I get started for you?”

The guy looks at him expectantly and Steve is a little confused but he keeps his smile plastered and waits. The order will come in time.

After a long minute, the guy’s smile falls a bit but he ends up asking for a black espresso.

“You got it. What’s the name?”

Now it looks like Steve just offended the guy. He tries to think if this is someone who has been to the shop before but Steve knows for a fact he’d remember him.

The guy coughs to cover his shock and murmurs “Eddie,” before walking away without looking at Steve again.

Eddie, he thinks. It doesn’t ring any bells and the guy definitely stands out. Steve would've noticed him, for sure.

Steve feels bad anyway. The guy wasn’t flirting, he just said ‘hey’, but he wasn’t not flirting either.

Was Steve that oblivious?

There’s no line in the shop right now, so he decides to make Eddie’s coffee himself.

When he calls his name he slides a chocolate muffin, too.

“I didn’t order that,” Eddie says, not looking at Steve.

“Oh, it’s on the house! Just enjoy.”

Eddie frowns at him as if he can’t quite understand Steve. He huffs out a breath and picks up his things before walking away.

Steve clicks his tongue. Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

The thing is, Steve can’t keep his eyes off of Eddie now. He sits there and eats his muffin alone. He checks his phone a few times and even types on it but seems frustrated after a while.

Steve wonders if he got stood up on a date or something.

It wouldn’t be the first time. A lot of people usually come for first dates at the shop. Steve finds it cute and he usually tries to help when he can. Offers something sweet as a treat for them to share or something.

But lately he’s been seeing a lot of people getting stood up

It makes him a little sad, to be honest. People will sit there for forty or fifty minutes before shyly getting up and walking away, their coffees cold and just half drunk.

Eddie seems to be another victim of that. He picks at his muffin and sips his coffee.

Steve has to fight the urge to say anything. What would he even say? He doesn’t even know who Eddie was waiting for although he does seem the type to date guys.

Maybe he could drop a cup with his number on it. It worked before, it could work again.

Before he can change his mind, Steve does exactly that. He walks around the counter and clear some tables before making his way to where Eddie is sitting.

He smiles, “are you all done?”

Eddie looks up at him and blushes furiously. It’s cute.

“Uh… yeah, thanks.”

Steve grabs the trash and drops the cup with his number written on it.

“It’s on the house, too.”

Steve winks. Hope it wasn’t too cringe and walks away before Eddie can react. He can do whatever but Steve would be really sad if he just ignored his number.

After a few minutes, Eddie walks back to the counter. He looks at Steve with a frown again. Steve kind of wants to run his fingers on it to smooth it down.

“What’s your damage?” Eddie asks out of nowhere. Steve frowns.

Had he read it all wrong? Had he offended Eddie somehow??

He didn’t look like a homophobe but then again Steve had been wrong before about that.

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, I just-“

Eddie scoffs “didn’t mean to offend…? That’s really funny. You’re a funny guy, Steve.”

Steve is so confused now. He’s pretty sure he didn’t say his name to Eddie.

“I’m… sorry? I’m a little confused.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“Eddie, I’m not sure-“

“You’re not sure? I’m not sure about you. You act all weird like you don’t know me and then you try to give me a fake number?”

“I… I don’t know you! And it’s not a fake number, it’s my real number. I don’t know what…”

“Yeah? Well, let’s see.”

Eddie picks his phone and dials the number Steve gave him.

Steve is confused but he raises his phone and shows it when Eddie’s number flashes on the screen

“See? Real number,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie looks surprised.

“So what’s this number?”

Eddie shows him his phone and there it is, Steve’s picture on a contact of a number he doesn’t recognize. He instantly feels bad for the guy. He’s been catfished.

“Oh… I’m sorry, that’s not me. I think someone was messing with you.”

Eddie gets bright red again. He pulls his phone back as if he’s been burned.

He mutters something that sounds like an apology and darts out of the door before Steve can stop him.

He feels sorry for the guy.

Someone clearly wanted to embarrass him if they sent him to Steve’s real workplace.

As much as his brain wants to linger on Eddie, his thoughts get interrupted by the evening rush of people in the coffee shop. Robin will be in soon but until then Steve has to manage it by himself and Eddie slips his mind.

Next Part

#Part 1 #There will be more don't worry #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #Coffee Shop AU #AU #Alternate Universe #Stranger Things #Fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic

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axeeglitter · 6 months ago

Text

Reformating Love

Ethan stared at the unwashed cereal bowl on the counter, the sticky remnants of milk and granola solidifying into an unappetizing paste. The apartment reeked faintly of saltwater and old gym clothes, a byproduct of living with Scott.

Scott, his surfer roommate, seemed to revel in making Ethan’s life a mix of frustration and quiet misery. The man had an effortless charm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a sun-kissed tan that made him look like a walking advertisement for beach life. His messy, curly long blond hair, perpetual smirk, and casual demeanor made him maddeningly attractive and completely insufferable.

As if on cue, Scott sauntered out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung boxer briefs. His toned body, slightly hairy in all the right places, gleamed faintly as if he had just stepped off his surfboard. He stretched his long arms over his head, revealing the thick patch of hair under his armpits, and yawned loudly.

“Morning, sunshine!” Scott said with a grin, his voice dripping with playful condescension.

Ethan gritted his teeth. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

Scott shrugged, completely unbothered. “Time doesn’t matter when you’ve mastered the art of the chill, my man.” He opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and drinking straight from it.

“Can you at least use a glass?” Ethan asked, already knowing the answer.

Scott turned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What’s the matter? Afraid of catching my cooties?” He wiggled his eyebrows before smirking and adding, “Or do you just want my lips on your lips, huh?”

Ethan flushed, his jaw tightening. “You’re impossible.”

Scott grinned wider and leaned against the counter, his muscular arms casually crossed. “Aw, come on, E. I’m just messing with you. You know I think you’re great. I mean, if I swung that way…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Ethan turned away, grabbing his laptop and settling onto the couch.

He was used to Scott’s teasing by now, but it still stung. The comments weren’t overtly homophobic; they were Scott’s way of pushing buttons, of asserting dominance in their shared space.

It wasn’t just the comments, though. It was the way Scott left his belongings everywhere, his dirty clothes strewn across the floor like trophies from his latest conquest. It was the way he played his music too loud, the bass vibrating through the walls at all hours. It was the way he walked around the apartment half-naked, completely comfortable in his skin, while Ethan tried to focus on anything other than the sharp curve of his hip bones or the way his legs seemed to go on forever.

Ethan had tried confronting him once, but Scott had just laughed it off, ruffling Ethan’s hair like he was a kid. “Relax, dude. Life’s too short to stress over this stuff.”

But for Ethan, it wasn’t just "stuff." It was the constant reminder that he was the one who cared too much, the one who had to clean up, the one who tiptoed around Scott’s oversized personality.

That night, as Scott sprawled on the couch in his underwear, flipping through channels like he owned the place, Ethan found himself staring at his laptop, typing a phrase he never thought he’d search for: How to make someone change their behavior.

The results were a mixed bag of self-help articles, manipulative tricks, and obscure forums. But one thread caught his eye: Reprogramming personalities: Is it possible?

Ethan clicked, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The thread was filled with wild claims about new technologies that could alter someone’s behavior at a fundamental level. Some users spoke of psychological conditioning, others about experimental devices that could rewire a person’s mind entirely.

One comment stood out:

"Tired of dealing with someone who just won’t change? The solution is simpler than you think. Reprogramming kits are real, and they work. DM me for more information."

Ethan hesitated. It had to be a joke, right? Some elaborate scam? Still, the idea burrowed into his brain, refusing to let go. What if there was a way to make Scott understand, to force him to see how much of a burden he was?

Without fully understanding why, Ethan clicked on the user’s profile and sent a message: Tell me more. But after waiting for almost half an hour, no answers appeared on his screen. “Yo E., What you doing bro?” Asked Scott as he was getting up from the couch. Out of reflex and fear, Ethan closed the window, his heart racing. Ethan decided that he was just tired and needed some time away from everything and went to bed, his heart still racing from stress.

The next morning, Ethan received a notification on his phone: Your package is out for delivery.

“What package?” he muttered to himself.

When he received the package later that afternoon, Ethan didn’t understand what this was. “Hey Scott, have you purchased something?” He asked still on the porch with the package in his hands. No answer from Scott so he went back inside and opened the box on the kitchen table. It was a slick USB drive with only a handwritten note inside: “Reformation kit”. Ethan held the UBS in his hand, a chill ran down his spine.

It seemed absurd, like some kind of prank. Ethan turned the USB over in his hands, its glossy black surface unmarked by logos or branding. The note offered no further explanation. He almost tossed it in the trash, but something stopped him. Ethan walked down to the couch where Scott was laying there in his underwear and exposing his muscled and slightly hairy physique, as always. “Hey Scott, have you purchased a Reformation kit?” Scott looked up at Ethan and laugh answering “Yea sure E. I have purchased this nerdy shit to better perform on the board. You really aren’t the smartest of the nerds, are you?” Ethan felt rage rise in him as he heard Scott taunting one more time. “You are a jerk; you know that right?” He answered while throwing the USB in his direction, not seeing that Scott turned his head back on his phone, exposing his naked neck as his still wet hair parted around it. Ethan didn’t wait for an answer as he walked in his room to get ready for his night shift at the movie theater. unbeknown to him, the USB stopped mid air before touching the ground. Then all of a sudden, the USB started to light a faint blue hue and hum as it floated just behind Scott’s exposed neck. Then, Scott felt a tingle at its base, not knowing that a small rectangle USB port just appeared out of nowhere in his flesh, the skin around it smooth and metallic like a port carved directly into his spine. As he was about to scratch the itch, the UBS plugged itself inside Scott’s neck.

There was a soft click.

Scott froze, his entire body stiffening as if a switch had been flipped.

“What the hell…” Scott started, but his words were cut off by a strangled cry. His head snapped back; his mouth open in a silent scream as his entire body began to convulse.

Scott’s fingers clawed at the couch cushions, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. His eyes were wide with terror, and tears streamed down his face as his voice returned in gasping, ragged muffled screams.

But there was no way to stop it. The USB drive glowed faintly, and Scott’s body arched violently, his back lifting off the couch.

Inside Scott’s mind, the sensation was beyond anything he could have imagined. It was as if every fiber of his being was being pulled apart, unraveling into threads of light and sound. His memories flashed before his eyes in rapid, chaotic bursts. His childhood, his first surfboard, his friends, his favorite songs.

But then, those memories started to fade.

“Ethan!” he tried to scream, his voice cracking with panic. “Help me! something’s wrong! I’m... I’m disappearing! I don’t feel goo…”

Scott’s face contorted with pain, his words becoming garbled. The light around the USB grew brighter, and a faint hum filled the room, like the whirring of a hard drive.

Scott’s mind was unraveling, his sense of self slipping away. His thoughts fragmented, disintegrating into a flood of static.

The pain was unbearable. It wasn’t just physical; it was the loss of everything that made him him. His memories, his emotions, his very essence were being stripped away, digitized and compressed into raw data. Scott could feel his senses being cut one by one. It started with the lost connection to his feet, then it climbed up his legs and now he could only feel his face.

And then, there was nothing.

Scott’s body went limp, the glow from the USB fading as the reprogramming completed. Ethan left for his shift just after the USB stopped shining and fell back on the ground, the hole in the neck disappearing once the connection was lost. Scott stood there, his eyes closed and his head resting on the couch. “I’m leaving Scott. If you have time, try to clean the apartment please. I’m exhausted and I just want to come back to a tidy house for once. See you!” Scott didn’t answer, but as Ethan closed the door, his eyes opened, a soft hue shining blue hue brighten his eyes before disappearing to his natural blue color. Scott looked around the house and then at his body, he touched himself as he took everything in. A smile appeared on his serene face, typical Scott’s signature cocky smile as he looked at his reflection in his smartphone, making his cock chub up a bit. Then out of nowhere, he jumped up from the couch and started to walk to the kitchen, ready to do some cleaning.

When Ethan came back home later that night, Scott was sitting on the couch in his underwear, as always, but Ethan realizes the house smelt fresh. He turned around to see the house clean and tidy, even the dried granola balls in the full kitchen sink were washed and put away. Ethan walked to Scott with a smile on his face and stress released from his shoulders. “Thanks bro!” started Ethan not waiting for any answers from Scott. But as he turned around, he felt Scott’s calloused manly hand grabbing his forearm. Ethan turned around not understanding what Scott wanted only to be met with Scott’s smile. “Yo E., I realize that you did a lot to keep this house as clean as possible and I didn’t help you at all those years. I also realize that life is short and I’m done not being me to my fullest. Now I know I’m not gay, but I kind of have some… feelings for you. You think we could… be something? Like, a relationship…. Maybe?” Ethan stood there; his mouth opened in surprise as he tried to take in everything that he just heard. He tilted his head on his forearm to see Scott still grabbing him for dear life and moving his thumb back and forth on his sensitive skin. He tilted his head back up to see Scott’s smiley face and out of pure pulsion, he thought fuck it, and threw himself in Scott naked and muscled arm to kiss him.

Over the next few days, Ethan explored the limits of their new relationship. So much had change and Ethan couldn’t believe how all of that was possible in only a couple of days. Scott was more attentive, less cocky. He no longer teased Ethan or strutted around the apartment like he owned the place. Instead, he was now helping with chores, cooking dinner, and even suggesting they watch movies together.

It was everything Ethan had hoped for.

As the days turned into weeks, their relationship deepened. They spent hours cuddling on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms as Ethan introduced Scott to new shows of adventures and fantasy. Scott’s touch was gentle, his affection genuine. He laughed at Ethan’s jokes and listened to him talk about his day with an intensity that made Ethan feel seen for the first time in years.

They shared baths; Scott’s strong arms wrapped around Ethan as they soaked in the warm water. They fell asleep in the same bed, their bodies entwined, the sound of Scott’s steady breathing lulling Ethan into a peaceful sleep.

Ethan told himself that this was what he had always wanted. Scott was happy, and so was he.

One evening, as they lay on the couch about to start The Witcher, Scott turned to Ethan with a contented smile.

“This show looks really good,” he said, his voice warm. “Thanks for introducing me to it.”

Ethan smiled back, his heart swelling with affection. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from Scott’s face.

“I love you,” he said softly.

Scott’s expression faltered for a brief moment, as if he were realizing something that was just out of reach. But then he smiled again and leaned in to kiss Ethan.

“I love you too,” he said.

Ethan didn’t notice the faint flicker of light in Scott’s eyes.

“I’ll grab some popcorn,” Ethan said, smiling as he untangled himself and headed to the kitchen.

Scott stretched, his body lean and relaxed, the dim light catching on the subtle golden tan of his surfer’s skin. As Ethan rummaged in the cupboards, Scott plunged his hand inside his right pocket where he toyed with the black sleek USB drive between his fingers.

“There’s no going back now.” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking, he got up and walked over to the TV. The back of his neck itched faintly. Scott stood in front of the TV and took the USB out of his pocket. He looked at it and a smile appear on his lips, without further thinking inserted the USB into one of the ports on the side of the television.

The screen flickered violently, the Netflix logo distorting into jagged lines and glitches that sent static crackling through the air. Scott stepped back, his heart pounding. The screen of the TV turned off and the room darkened. The television’s screen turned pitch black, save for faint flickers of light coalescing into a chaotic storm of colors.

And then, in the center of the screen, pixels started to merge together to form an entity. Something human like. Limbs started to appear and soon a face too. Scott stood in front of the as he watches with attention his reflection appears on the screen. Scott’s digitized soul had been plugged in.

Scott’s digitized soul emerged on the screen, flickering into existence in a form that resembled his body but was translucent and distorted. His limbs jerked as though he were a marionette struggling against invisible strings.

“What’s happening?!” he screamed from inside the TV, his voice echoing in the dark void. He looked down at his hands,they were translucent, pixelated fragments of light that didn’t feel solid.

His vision swam as he turned, desperate to find some kind of anchor. Instead, he saw his own body standing on the living room carpet, staring blankly at the TV.

“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking with panic. “That’s... that’s me. That’s my body!”

He pounded on the invisible barrier of the screen, his hands sparking with faint glitches. “Ethan! Help me! I’m in here! I’m…” “He won’t answer.” Scott heard his deep manly voice answering his please “In fact, no one will help you. You had it all, Scott. But you had to push the boundaries a bit too much and now look at you. Digitized, trapped, floating naked inside a TV screen.” “What are you talking about?!” screamed Scott from inside the TV. “Get me out of here! I’ve been stuck in darkness for weeks! Get me out!” “That won’t happen buddy… See, I have been stuck in there for years and there’s no way I’m going back in it. My ex, this fucking piece of shit, cursed and trapped me in there after finding out I planned to quit her. She did the mistake of keeping me trapped in "this" and make sure I always was close to her, but the second she met someone, she sends me to the first one without even freeing me from this cursed existence? I won’t do the same mistake. I'm here to stay, even if I have to play for the other team. And Ethan is kind of cute. Yes, this cycle ends now!” As he said that, Scott took the remote in his hand. The screen flickered, and Scott was cut off as the television’s remote was pointed at the screen, guided by the steady, precise hand of his own body.

“No! Who are you?!” Scott screamed, slamming his fists against the inside of the screen as his body selected The Witcher from the Netflix menu.

Scott laughed as he pressed the button "My name was Cody, but you can call me Scott!" The first episode began to play, the familiar opening scene filling the screen. But something was wrong. The edges of the screen twisted, pulling Scott’s glowing form toward the center.

“No, no, no!” he begged, thrashing against the pull as the show’s digital world unfolded around him.

In the blink of an eye, Scott was now standing awkwardly on the cobblestone streets of a medieval town. The air around him shimmered, glitching like corrupted code. He could walk again. He could feel the air on his skin and the dirt under his feet. But as a fresh breeze blew in his hair, he realized he was still naked in the middle of a busy street. Scott started to walk to hide somewhere, to ask for help, but with every step he took, his body was starting to change. As he got out of the city, Scott stood and hide behind a bunch of rocks and trees, trying to understand what was happening as he felt the dirt under his soles and the rocks against his naked and exposed back. Suddenly, a deep pain invaded his body.

His bones shifted first, cracking and shrinking with sickening precision. He could see his sight getting closer to the ground, slightly shorter than his original frame. He cried out as his limbs reshaped themselves, his lean surfer’s build giving way to a softer, more compact form.

His skin prickled as the sun-kissed tan faded into a smoother, paler complexion, dotted with faint freckles that hadn’t been there before. Every hair on his body seemed to rearrange itself, the wiry, sun-bleached strands on his chest and legs softening and darkening.

Scott’s armpits burned as the sparse hair there thickened, giving off a muskier scent that matched the medieval street he was hidden in. He gagged as the scent surrounded him, a mix of sweat and leather that was foreign yet undeniably his.

“Stop it! Please!” he screamed, but his voice was already changing, cracking and shifting into a higher, more melodic tone.

His face was next. He felt his jawline soften, the angles rounding into the boyish charm of young visage. His cheekbones lifted, and his nose reshaped itself with an audible crunch. His hair fell off, revealing rich, chestnut waves that grew longer, brushing against his shoulders.

Scott’s pelvic region seized with a deep, invasive ache. He doubled over, clutching at himself as his body rewired the most intimate parts of his anatomy. His penis pulsed painfully, growing longer and thicker. Scott could feel all the nerves decupling and rearranging. He tilted his head, cupping his cock between his new hands only to scream at the feeling of something alien. Something warm and thick but totally frozen. He heard a Snap sound as Scott felt his balls attaching to the base of his penis and starting to reshape into an inhuman form. Scott screamed again as he felt a tugging sensation at the base of his cock and suddenly, he heard a snap as he felt his cock falling in his hands. He could still feel it but it was not attached to his body anymore. Scott screamed again as he realized his cock and balls had reshaped into a lute. He felt every string, every curve, every stroke like if it was his still his cock and balls. Every brush of his finger sending him waves of pleasure like he was about to cum, making his knees weak.

“Oh God,” he muttered out of fear and pleasure.

His feet and hands were the last to change. His surfer’s calloused soles smoothed into the soft, narrow feet of someone who took care of himself but still walked a lot, his toes curling in agony as the final adjustments were made. His hands, once strong and capable, became slender and delicate, perfect for plucking strings. Scott could feel that this wave of change died as his nails finished adjusting to their new form. He tried to get up, his lute still in his right hand and feeling like he was tugging his cock at the base, ready to cum any instant. As he took his first step in this new reality, clothes materialized over his trembling body, stitching themselves into place. A doublet of deep blue and gold, tight trousers, and knee-high boots encased him, completing the transformation.

Scott tried to scream, but the sound came out as a cheerful laugh. His body straightened, his new face lighting up with the unmistakable charisma of someone he didn’t know, someone far away from his real self, someone like Jaskier.

Inside his own mind, Scott’s soul writhed.

“What’s happening to me?!” he screamed, but the words were drowned out by a flood of new thoughts, new instincts.

Scott tried to scream for help but his body was not answering his orders anymore. Instead, he started to walk calmly his lute hung in his back and grinding on his soft velvety jacket, sending him waves of pleasure along the way. Then, behind a rock, he saw Geralt ahead of him, and his body moved on its own, rushing forward with a wide grin.

“Ah, Geralt, my dear friend!” he heard himself say, the voice no longer his own.

Inside, Scott’s soul screamed. He could feel everything, his new body, the weight of the lute, the way his new clothes clung to his skin, but he had no control. Every thought, every movement was dictated by an unknown force, forcing him to embody the bard’s carefree, loyal persona.

“No! I’m not Jaskier! I’m Scott!” he tried to shout, but the words never left his lips. Instead, his body turned to Geralt with a mischievous smile, delivering another line with perfect comedic timing.

Back in the living room, Ethan returned with a bowl of popcorn. He sat down next to Scott, who was watching the TV intently. Ethan looked the screen for a moment, he was sure he saw a glitch on Jaskier, like if his face went from screaming to smiling in a few seconds without any reasons. Ethan blinked and all he saw was Jaskier on pause on the screen, holding his lute in his hands, must be the sleepiness coming to his eyes, he thought, forgetting instantly what he jsut saw.

“Sorry, got a call from work. What did I miss?” Ethan asked, popping a kernel into his mouth.

Scott turned to him with a smile, his expression calm and untroubled.

“Nothing important,” he said, resuming the show, his voice soft and even. Jaskier resumed playing his lute to entertain Geralt on their journey.

Ethan relaxed on Scott's shoulder as Scott grabbed Ethan's hands, unaware of the turmoil raging within the screen as Scott’s soul was forced to entertain an audience forever trapped in this new reality, playing with his lute and begging to cum.

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys!

I’ve been meaning to post this story for a while but just couldn’t find the time to put it together properly—until now. So here it is! This story was created for @petew21-blog, based on his amazing request:

"would you be so kind and uploaded this handsome guy to my USB? I want his body empty for me to enjoy. I do need a hard pillow to cuddle while watching TV shows. And he looks comfy. I could play with those long hair, feel the heat of his muscles, bathe him... All while his body would be just empty, followed me and listened to every command I give him.

And while in bed together, we could watch some TV shows with the USB inserted in the TV with a VERY FAMILIAR actor. If you know what I mean."

I hope you all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think in the comments.

As always, my DMs are open, and you’re welcome to send me an ask if you have an idea you’d like me to explore.

Take care, and see you soon!

#male transformation #my writing #mental change #male tf #reality change #tf #gay #personality change #straight to gay #the witcher #jaskier #cock tf #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #digitization #digitized

193 notes · View notes

agaypanic · 1 year ago

Note

Is this how you request a fic? I have no idea but I’ll try. I’m craving Regina George content. Can you please write something where reader is apart of the plastics but she’s not mean like the rest of them and that’s why Regina likes her. When Cady shows up and Regina has an interest in cady it’s too make reader jealous but instead cady ends up liking reader who distances herself from the plastics and then Regina gets jealous and admits her feelings so reader doesn’t end up with cady. If that makes sense? Thank you!

Craving Your Attention (Regina George X Plastic!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Regina George is the queen of North Shore High and she doesn’t like to share her toys, even if she doesn’t really play with them.

A/N: kinda toxic!regina even tho thats not really a surprise. slight cady x reader, she likes you instead of aaron (also aaron doesn’t exist teehee). The girls arent homophobic bc cady tells gretchen she likes reader and regina ends up with reader (saying this bc idk if you’re gonna read this with 2004 regina or 2024 regina in mind, and obviously 2004 was a different time lmao) content warning for diet talk but it’s just part of one scene. Heavily relied on the mean girls (2004) script for this fic, so it's almost all written centered around Cady. all in third person which felt a lil weird to write because i usually write in second person lol idk if anyone’s gonna want a part 2 but imma lyk rn that im not planning on writing a part 2, mainly bc this took so painstakingly long

***

Everyone at North Shore High knew about Regina George. They’d be stupid not to. She was practically royalty.

A queen bee was nothing without her little worker bees. First was Karen Smith. She seemed to give a whole new meaning to the word ‘clueless,’ but she was friendly. In more ways than one.

Then there’s Gretchen Wieners. She was Regina’s eyes and ears, whether it was wanted or not. All she wanted to do was please her leader.

And finally, there was Y/n L/n. If any of the plastics were to be deemed approachable, it was her. She was Regina’s right-hand girl, maybe even a bit more than that. But no one ever brought that up.

But then Cady Heron came to North Shore.

“Is he bothering you?” Regina tilted her head as she looked at the redheaded girl and the familiar boy who was talking to her. Y/n, who was sitting next to Regina, looked up from her food in curiosity. Regina didn’t usually talk to anyone outside of the table during lunch. The girl made a nondescript noise, so Regina turned her attention to the boy. “Jason, why are you such a skeez?”

Jason rolled his eyes, but tried to seem polite.

“I’m just being friendly.”

“You were supposed to call me last night,” Gretchen pouted, looking over her shoulder at Jason.

“Jason.” Attention was brought back to Regina with the simple call of his name. She wore a sweet smile, which meant that Jason was probably about to get a bite taken out of him. “You do not come to a party at my house with Gretchen and then scam on some poor, innocent girl right in front of us three days later. She’s not interested.” Regina then turned to the redheaded girl. “Do you wanna have sex with him?”

She looked shocked, giving an immediate no.

“Good. So it’s settled.”

“You can go shave your back now,” Y/n finished, and the four plastics waved him off. Jason walked away, but not before muttering an insult to the girls.

“Good one,” Regina said quietly to Y/n, who couldn’t help but smile a bit at the small praise. Before she could reply, Regina’s eyes followed after the red-haired girl, who was now starting to walk away. “Wait.” The single word made her stop in her tracks and look back. “Sit down.”

Regina moved her hands, signaling Gretchen and Karen to move to the sides of the lunch bench to make room for this mystery girl. After some more encouragement, she sat down.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked sweetly, trying to ease the girl’s nerves.

“Cady.”

“Why don’t I know you?” Regina asked, looking at Cady curiously.

“I’m new,” Cady replied. “I just moved here from Africa.”

“What?”

“I used to be home-schooled.”

“Wait. What?”

Cady took a second, wondering why Regina kept saying ‘what.’ She didn’t think it was that confusing.

“My mom taught me at home-”

“No, no.” Regina laughed. “I know what ‘home-school’ is; I’m not stupid. So, you’ve actually never been to a real school before?”

As she spoke, Regina leaned more and more forward towards Cady. And as the conversation continued, Y/n wondered why Regina was taking such an interest in her. Regina never cared about anyone who passed by, too involved in the latest gossip session Gretchen had started or in Y/n’s appearance. Not that Y/n really noticed that; she was busy thinking about Regina to see that Regina was thinking about her. Either way, she didn’t understand why the blonde was suddenly so fascinated by this new girl.

“You’re like, really pretty.”

Oh… That must be why.

Y/n seemed to tune the rest of the conversation out, too wrapped up in Regina’s compliment towards Cady and the bright smile she wore while giving it. She didn’t know why it bothered her. It’s not like Regina belonged to her. If anything, Y/n, along with the rest of the Plastics, belonged to Regina.

Even when Regina brought Gretchen and Karen in close to speak to them and Y/n, leaving Cady awkwardly leaning back to give them more privacy, Y/n didn’t care much to listen. The gist of the conversation was that they wanted Cady to sit with them at lunch for a week, something they had never considered doing with anyone else in this school.

“Okay.” Regina started as Gretchen and Karen relaxed back into their seats, and Cady leaned back in. “You should just know that we don’t do this a lot, so this is, like, a really huge deal. We wanna invite you to have lunch with us every day for the rest of the week.” Regina wore a grin that meant she was up to something, but Cady didn’t seem to decipher that, and the rest of the girls didn’t know what it meant.

“Oh, it’s okay—” Cady’s tone seemed to indicate that she was about to decline, but Regina interrupted her before she could.

“Coolness.” The bell rang, and Regina’s eyes darted over to Y/n before going back to Cady. Her mischievous smile remained present as she, Gretchen, and Karen grabbed their trays. “So we’ll see you tomorrow.”

The three Plastics stood up and left the table, leaving Y/n in a slight daze and Cady confused about what had just happened. Y/n suddenly looked around, realizing that her friends had left without her, but the new girl was still with her. She figured that she should say something before leaving her alone. She didn’t have to be mean or unpleasant just because Regina seemed to like Cady.

“On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” Y/n said it with a timid but sweet smile, trying to get over the revelation that the girl she loved was setting her sights on someone else. Her hand patted Cady’s a few times before she stood up and picked up her tray. “Welcome to North Shore.”

As Cady watched Y/n leave, and as Janis and Damian dragged the redhead away to interrogate her about her interaction with Regina, she couldn’t help but feel warm. Maybe public school wouldn’t be so bad.

***

The next day, Cady was slightly nervous to sit with the Plastics. She felt like a double spy. Janis and Damian were under the impression that Cady was doing it for them, to listen in on Regina’s secrets and relay them back to her friends so they could laugh at the pathetic and superficial nature of it all. And sure, that was the main reason she was sitting with the girls. But Cady also returned to the table so she could bask in a new light, Y/n.

But living in girl world came with a bunch of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row, and you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. So…” Gretchen laughed lightly, seeming a little nervous for no reason as she looked at Cady, who was wearing her hair in a ponytail. “I guess you picked today. Oh! And we only wear jeans or track pants on Fridays.”

“Which totally blows in the winter,” Y/n muttered before sipping her Diet Coke.

“Now,” Gretchen started again, “if you break any of these rules, you can’t sit with us at lunch.” Cady seemed surprised, but Gretchen continued. “Not just you! Like, any of us. Okay, so, like, if I was wearing jeans today, I would be sitting over there with the art freaks.” She said it with a grimace, pointing over to a table a few feet away from the girls before looking back at Cady. “Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group. I mean, you wouldn’t buy a skirt without asking your friends first if it looks good on you.”

Everyone nodded except for Cady, who was processing all of these new rules she had to follow.

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right,” Gretchen said with a definitive nod. “And it’s the same with guys. Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

“One hundred twenty calories and forty-eight calories from fat,” Regina interrupted, reading a food bar that she had grabbed. She looked at her friends inquisitively. What percent is that?”

“Uh… forty-eight into one hundred and twenty?” Gretchen suggested, not really sure of herself.

“No, I don’t think so, Gretch,” Y/n said, trying to think of the correct answer.

“I’m only eating foods with less than thirty percent calories from fat.”

“It’s forty percent,” Cady said suddenly, proud that she was able to do the equation in her head. Everyone looked at her, expressions varying from impressed to confused. Cady suddenly felt the need to show her work. “Well, forty-eight over a hundred and twenty equals X over a hundred-”

“So then you cross multiply to get X!” Y/n finished off with a grin, thrilled that she knew what Cady was talking about. Cady smiled back at her with the same excited energy, although looking a little more subdued. Not only was this girl super pretty and friendly, but she also seemed decently smart. Maybe Janis was wrong about these girls.

“Whatever.” Regina looked at the two girls suspiciously. She tossed the food bar onto the table and stood up. “I’m getting cheese fries. Y/n, come with me.”

Taken back by the sudden command, Y/n stumbled out of her seat and followed Regina. Cady’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and she sighed quietly when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the girl anymore.

“So!” Gretchen startled Cady with her enthusiastic voice and a hand on her shoulder. As she turned to look at her, Cady realized that Karen was also gone from the table. She must’ve gone to the bathroom or somewhere else. “Have you seen anyone you think is cute yet?”

Cady didn’t know how to answer. There was definitely one person that came to mind, but she didn’t know if she should say the name. Gretchen might react badly if Cady told her, which would most likely lead to her getting kicked out of the Plastics.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to lie.

“Well… there’s this one.. girl.” The last word was quiet and hesitant, but Gretchen picked up on it.

“Oh my gosh, who is it?” She asked excitedly. “Do you think it’s just like, a phase, or is it more serious?”

“I dunno.” Cady shrugged. “I haven’t known her too long to be sure.”

“Who is it?” Gretchen leaned forward in her seat, completely invested in Cady’s answer. It took the redhead a long moment of hesitancy to open her mouth.

“It’s Y/n…”

“No!” Gretchen straightened up, looking absolutely horrified. She looked around, ensuring none of the other girls were back yet. “You can’t like Y/n. Not only is she a part of the group, but… Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, and you’re, like, totally forbidden from ever bringing it up. But Regina is really possessive over Y/n. They’ve been best friends for, like, forever, and Regina chases off anyone who tries to so much as ask her out. And it’s not my place to say whether or not it’s more than friendship, but if I had to say something, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Gretchen took a much-needed breath, shaking her head slightly to clear her jumbled thoughts. “Look, the point is, you shouldn’t date friends. Especially Regina’s friends. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell Regina or Y/n what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

Gretchen gave Cady a sweet smile, and that seemed to be the end of their little conversation. But for the next few days, Cady kept thinking about it.

She didn’t want to get on Regina’s bad side. That would mean no more things to tell Janis and Damian and no more seeing Y/n. And she also didn’t want to freak Y/n out. But just because Cady wasn’t allowed to like Y/n didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to look at her. Or think about her. Or talk to her.

A few days later, when Cady was with Janis and Damian at the mall, Janis asked when Cady would see Regina next. She said it felt weird to spy on her and that she didn’t want to do it anymore. And sure, it being weird was part of why she wanted to stop. But mainly, it was because Cady had started getting so distracted by Y/n that it was difficult to focus on Regina. Which was strange, because the blonde girl was so alluring. But Janis reassured Cady that Regina would never find out about her double agent status, that it would be their little secret.

So many secrets.

***

“Hello?” Cady held the phone up to her ear, wondering who was calling her at this late hour.

“I know your secret.” Cady stiffened at Regina’s voice coming through the speaker. She internally panicked, trying to figure out what to do. How did Regina figure out about Cady’s spying?

“Secret?” She decided that playing it cool was the better move. “What secret?”

“Gretchen told me that you like Y/n.” Cady relaxed at the fact that Regina had learned about her other secret, before freezing again. Right now, she wondered if it would be better if Regina knew about the spying. “I mean, I don’t care, do whatever you want.” Regina didn’t sound like she didn’t care, but Cady didn’t bring it up. “But let me just tell you something about Y/n: She’s, like, never gone on a date before. It’s not that she’s not pretty or anything, but no one’s ever really been good enough for her.”

“Oh?” What did this mean? Did Regina deem Cady good enough for Y/n after so many others tried and failed? Or was this a set-up?

Honestly, Cady was so happy for Regina’s blessing that she didn’t really care.

“I could talk to her for you, if you want.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“We’ve been friends since like, pretty much birth. I know exactly how to play it.” There was a moment of silence, and Cady could picture Regina picking at her nails. “But wait. Aren’t you mad at Gretchen for telling me? Because if you are, you can tell me. It was a really bitchy thing for her to do.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bitchy, but I’m not mad.” Cady was a little mad, but she didn’t feel like saying that. “I mean, it’s better she told you instead of Y/n. I dunno, I guess she just likes the attention.” Cady didn’t know why she said that last part, but it had just spilled out of her mouth.

“See, Gretch? I told you she’s not mad at you.” Cady was a bit confused, but then another voice spoke.

“I can’t believe you think I like attention!” There was a click, and Cady assumed the Gretchen had hung up. She had no idea she was even listening.

“Okay, love you. See you tomorrow!” Cady could hear Regina’s smile, and then there was another click followed by a dial tone, showing that Cady was now the only one on the line. She then hung up herself, processing the three-way call she had just survived.

And then after that, Cady realized that she had gotten Regina’s blessing to try to pursue Y/n.

***

“What day is it?” Y/n asked, looking down at her worksheet. She didn’t usually do homework at lunch, but lately, some of her classes had been kicking her ass.

“It’s October third,” Cady answered almost immediately, catching the suspicious eyes of Regina and Gretchen.

“Thanks, Cady,” Y/n said, looking up at the girl and giving her a sweet smile before returning to her paper.

“I dunno why you don’t just ask one of the Mathlete dorks to do it for you,” Regina said, looking over Y/n’s shoulder. “They’d probably even do it for free.”

“We’ve talked about this, Regina. If my teacher didn’t catch on, it would still totally bite me in the ass when I’d have to do a test all by myself.”

“You need help with math?” Cady asked, subtly leaning closer to Y/n. The girl looked at Cady, now completely distracted from her work.

“Yeah! I used to get it, but trig is crazy hard.” Y/n sighed, delicately rubbing at her tired eyes so she didn’t mess up her makeup. “I feel like I’m never gonna get it.”

“I can help you!” Cady said, excited over this opportunity. She had always excelled in mathematics, and now Y/n needs help with that exact subject? It seemed like fate.

“Really?” Both Y/n and Cady missed the slight glare that Regina was giving them.

“Oh right, Cady’s like, a total nerd.” They also chose to ignore Regina’s snide comment before sipping her Diet Coke.

“That would be amazing, Cady! Maybe I could come over after school today or something?”

Cady was about to say yes, a million times yes, but Regina butted in.

“Y/n, you’re coming over to my house today.” It didn’t really feel like Regina was reminding her of forgotten plans. Instead, it sounded like Regina was coming up with a reason for Y/n to be unavailable. Cady’s suspicions were confirmed by the confused look Y/n gave the blonde.

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… Well, how about tomorrow?”

“Perfect!” Cady spoke quickly and enthusiastically before Regina could say another word.

***

Over the next month or so, Cady tutored Y/n a few days every week. It quickly became their favorite part of their days. After helping with a few problems Y/n was stuck on, the two girls would get distracted by conversations about whatever they wanted to talk about. Neither of them felt the need to filter themselves in fear of being made fun of by one of the other Plastics, mainly Regina. Topics ranged from the latest gossip to future plans to their favorite things in media. If Cady had never heard of something Y/n brought up, which was the case nine times out of ten, the tutoring session would turn into a movie night or music party.

“Oh my gosh, so…” Y/n and Cady were in the middle of watching a chick flick that Cady had never seen when Y/n suddenly spoke. “I’m having a Halloween party at my place. We usually do it at Regina’s, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like doing it this year. Are you gonna come?”

“Yeah, sure.” Cady’s response made Y/n smile brightly, a sight that Cady could never get sick of.

“Awesome!” Y/n sat up from her slouched position, her excitement waking her up from her slightly tired state. “It’s a costume party, which’ll be a lot of fun. I can give you a flier with all the info tomorrow. Even though I know you’re invited, you need the flier to get in. It only admits one person, so don’t bring anyone else with you.”

“Grool.” Y/n blinked in slight confusion, and Cady realized what she had said. “I… I meant to say ‘cool,’ and then I started to say ‘great.’”

Y/n giggled, which made Cady’s cheeks heat up.

“Right. Well, grool.” The two laughed, and then Y/n looked down at her watch. “Oh my gosh, it’s so late. I should probably get going.” With the help of Cady, Y/n gathered her things. “See you tomorrow!” In a flash, Y/n kissed Cady’s cheek before walking out of the room and leaving Cady’s house. Cady’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she lightly touched the cheek Y/n had kissed.

***

One thing that no one told Cady was that on Halloween, many girls opted for very revealing costumes rather than actual costumes. So when she arrived at Y/n’s house, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her dead bride attire while her friends wore tight clothes and animal ears.

“Why are you so scary?” Gretchen asked with concern, looking at Cady’s appearance with wide eyes.

“It’s Halloween,” Cady said with a shrug, not knowing what the problem was.

Suddenly, a hand touched Cady’s arm, making her jump. But she quickly relaxed when she saw who was touching her.

“You came!” Y/n squealed, bringing Cady in for a hug. The redhead felt a bit flustered by the contact, plus seeing Y/n in her slightly revealing outfit. When they broke the embrace, Y/n held Cady by the shoulders, surveying her outfit. “And you’re a… zombie bride…?”

“An ‘ex-wife.’” Cady replied, using her fingers to air quote.

“Well, I love it.” Y/n finally let go of Cady, although she wouldn’t have been opposed if she kept holding onto her. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Y/n squeezed Cady’s arm for a quick moment before turning around. She weaved her way through the crowd to get to the kitchen, where a shit load of different drinks were scattered on the counters. She started mixing a drink for Cady when she felt a presence behind her.

“What the hell is Cady wearing?” Regina asked, squinting to see Cady from across the room.

“She’s a zombie bride!”

“She looks like a freak.”

“Regina!” Y/n set down the bottle she was pouring and looked at the blonde. “Be nice.”

“Whatever.” Regina rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off her shoulder before leaning on the kitchen counter. “You know, you should probably be careful around her. She has a giant crush on you.”

“What?” Y/n’s eyes snapped to Regina, immediately curious. “How do you know?”

“She told me. She tells everybody. It’s kinda cute, to be honest. She’s like a little girl.” Regina laughed, and Y/n tilted her head and raised her brows, silently asking for more details. “Like, she writes ‘Y/n plus Cady’ and stuff like that all over her notebook. And she made this shirt that says ‘I heart Y/n’ and she wears it under all of her clothes.

“Oh, come on.” Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes, figuring Regina had been joking. “That’s not funny, Regina.”

“I’m serious! She’s, like, obsessed with you. And who can blame her?” Regina’s hand reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Y/n’s face. When Y/n looked at her friend, she was suddenly closer than before. “I mean, you’re gorgeous.”

“Regina.”

“If I’m being honest�� I hate the way she looks at you.” Regina grabbed Y/n’s chin before she could look away, forcing them to maintain eye contact. “It makes me sick. She should know better than to think she has a chance with you.”

“What are you saying, Regina?” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but the blonde heard her loud and clear despite being in a crowded room with blasting music and semi-drunk teenagers.

“I’m saying you’re mine, Y/n.” With every word, Regina inched closer and closer. “I don’t want you to be with Cady. Or with anyone else.”

Regina closed the small gap between her and Y/n’s lips, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s body to keep her close. After the wave of shock washed over her, Y/n reciprocated the kiss. Neither of them cared about any of the people around them watching. Including Cady, who watched from across the room with watery eyes and a breaking heart.

Cady had lost Y/n to a competition she didn’t even know she had. Y/n had finally gotten the girl she had been wanting for years after being kept at arm’s length away. And Regina had once again ruined someone else’s happiness for her own.

***

Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2 @pyro-les @natashamaximoff-69

#agaypanic #regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls #mean girls x reader #rachel mcadams x reader #rachel mcadams #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader

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hadesrise · 1 year ago

Text

beware of the nicest guy !!

summary ➳ even the nicest guy turns violent when provoked. patience isn’t forever.

pairings ➳ sweet pea x male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, violence, reggie being an asshole, foul language, homophobia, homophobic slur, mentions of being ganged up, broken bones, blood, no use of (y/n)

author’s note ➳ i’ve always done this trope, haven’t i? 😔 previously written on closedmadness, edited. that one will be deleted.

Northsiders refusing to welcome Southsiders isn’t an unfamiliar matter in the northside of Riverdale. Nearly everyone was the same; prejudice littered across the town with judgmental stares and narrow-mindedness that serves as immaturity, their lack of human decency evident with the way they’d rather spread hatred and negativity than actually get to know the Southsiders.

It’s gotten a lot boring, if the Southside Serpents were being honest.

Being constantly picked on by Reggie Mantle and the Bulldogs while the others watched, it was getting too old and unamusing for the gang. There’s nothing new to the way Reggie spits insults after insults that doesn’t even offend them in the slightest, the lack of creativity just making him seem like an unloved child. His mouth continuously moved despite the Serpents displaying a bored look on their faces, his superiority complex getting the best of him and causing him to be blind to his surroundings.

It was supposed to be the same; get picked on, everyone ignores, the Bulldogs get tired and leave, just like that. However, a new unfamiliar presence disrupted the routine that everyone seemingly fell into.

Adorned in an indie outfit of white button down, brown vest and khaki trousers that’s almost out of place in Riverdale High from its simplicity, you hurriedly walked towards the commotion and separated the Bulldogs from the Serpents by shoving Reggie back. The jock stumbled back from the force before glaring at you, who didn’t hesitate to stand tall in front of the Southsiders without much thought.

The Serpents who were in front, Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs seemed taken aback by your protective stance, how you stood as if you were shielding them from the stupid jocks. They stared at the back of your head as you stared at Reggie, deeply unimpressed.

“Won’t there be a day where I don’t hear you making a fuss?” You asked rhetorically, sighing and adjusting the files you were holding in one arm. “It’s about time you grow up and act like your age, Mantle.”

Reggie sarcastically smiled, ignoring your remarks. “If it isn’t the nicest guy in Riverdale.” He tilted his head, “You would get nothing out of defending these fuckers, Mr. President. It’s only pointless, so get out of my way.”

“Picking on them is also pointless, what are you exactly trying to prove?” You retort, raising one of your eyebrows and shoving your empty hand in the pocket of your trousers. “This childish and immature actions must be definitely coming from being spoiled like a brat by your parents, but I assure you, you look nothing like but a pathetic attention-seeking bitch for going after people that couldn’t even give a single penny to care about you.”

A snicker erupts from behind you, undoubtedly from a couple of the Serpents, as Reggie clenched his jaw and stepped forward with a harsh glare.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m sure you’re not deaf.” You fiercely met his eyes, unbothered by how he looks like he could punch you any moment. “I’m also sure what I said was true, but you’ll only prove me right if you attack me right now.” Your eyes cunningly glinted under the school lights.

Reggie grits his teeth, glares at the Serpents for a few moments before turning around to walk away, his teammates following behind.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as soon as he was out of sight, pinching the bridge of your nose under your round spectacles and turning around in your place to see the Serpents still standing there, observing you. They all plastered a curiosity on their faces since you were a new sight to them, someone who had never caught their eyes before. It’s also intriguing how you seem much more… nonchalant and mature than the other students, your atmosphere holding calmness that’s rare to find in people they’ve encountered.

“I apologize on their behalf. I know you could’ve handled it by yourselves, but settling things down is my job around here.” You formed an apologetic smile, which surprised them, along with the friendliness in your tone. No one had ever talked or looked at them like that. It was strange to interact with someone who had no malice or negativity in the atmosphere.

“Don’t be sorry!” Toni grinned, holding her hand out. “I’m Toni. These are Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

You shook her hand and introduced yourself before looking at the two guys on both of her sides, Sweet Pea’s eyes lingering on you causing you to flash him a shy smile and look back at Toni, gesturing to her pink hair. “I really like your hair, it’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” She happily fluffed her hair with her hands.

“This is probably your first time seeing me here, I’m actually the school president although Cheryl likes to act more like it.” You explained with a chuckle.

Sweet Pea raised his brows, “How come you’re not around?”

“I’ve been doing charity work for my family’s business,” You shrugged. “Teaching kids basic lessons, serving foods and drinks to people in need, visiting nursing homes, taking care of people with disability, something like that. My family’s business provide help to all community that needs a helping hand.”

Your explanation left them impressed as their eyes fell on the files in your arm, some posters and documents sticking out from it. There were also sticky notes and note tabs that shows your effort to the project, which revealed your genuineness to help people. Perhaps, Reggie Mantle was really telling the truth when he said you’re the nicest guy in Riverdale. The way you smiled was genuine and warm, as if it came from the bottom of your heart, looking at them with nothing but kindness and friendliness behind your bright eyes that sparkles in excitement.

Toni found you adorable, your softness coming off as unexpected from your sophisticated attitude. Fangs found you cool, your lack of hesitation in calling out other’s bullshit even when people were just muttering among themselves making him laugh and want to befriend you more.

Sweet Pea, on the other hand, found you endearing. You were like a bright soul that got lost in a jungle full of animals, the only sane and more human person in this town. Your soothing laugh tugs at the strings on his heart as warmth spreads across his chest, an unfamiliar feeling building up in his stomach. He admires the way you push your glasses up with one finger when it slides down, the way you furrow your brows when concentrating, the way your fingers flip the page of the files you’ve made by yourself.

You had enthusiastically joined them in class when you found out they shared the same one as you, choosing to sit near them so you’ll be able to have hushed conversations while the teacher discussed some nonsense.

Everyday, you would spend time with them despite the amount of students wanting to converse with you, becoming some sort of an unofficial member of their little circle as you share them some accomplishments you’ve achieved. Getting taught by you in their studies proved to be so much effective than listening to boring professors when Sweet Pea discovered he actually excelled at mathematics while Toni at history and Fangs at science, with Jughead not being surprised at the outcome. He did expect it since you were one of the most excellent students.

The four of them occupied the seats on the corner of the classroom, Jughead and Toni on the last row with Sweet Pea and Fangs on the front, unbothered by the subtle looks being thrown their way as you sat in front of them concentrated on a paper. You were seemingly working on another project for your family business.

Sweet Pea couldn’t help but stare at you, admiring how your structured features shift each time you come up with ideas. He wanted to ask you on something about the paperwork he was doing, but admiring you first seemed ideal in his head.

Feeling someone drill a hole on the side of your face, you turned to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes and your features softened, a warm smile spreading across your lips. He made sure to engrave it in his eyes.

“What’s up, Pea? You’re staring.” You chuckled, sounding like a soothing melody in Sweet Pea’s ears as his face also softens.

“I kinda need help with this,” He says, voice uncharacteristically quiet and warm, scooting closer to show you his notebook. “You okay with me bothering you for a bit?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged and settled your pen on top of the desk, fully facing him to start explaining where he didn’t understand. Sweet Pea kept nodding each time you explained, his gaze never leaving your face yet still understanding everything you say, a subtle almost peaceful smile across his lips.

Both of you had failed to notice the three of your friends burning holes into the two of you.

“Are they…?” Jughead trailed off, pointing at you.

Both Toni and Fangs shook their heads, “Not yet, unfortunately.” They replied in sync before Fangs adds, “Though I think it’s a matter of time before Sweets make a move.”

“Bet,” Jughead smirks.

They weren’t wrong.

The Serpents and the Corefour with Kevin and Cheryl gathered in the cafeteria, unbothered by looks shot by Northsiders as they conversed among one another, light meals in front of each of them with the exception of Sweet Pea who was restlessly drumming on the table with his hands. He keeps looking back at the entrance, as if he expects someone to barge in any moment.

Toni and Fangs exchanged a glance with smirks before Jughead nudged Sweet Pea lightly to catch his attention. “Where’s your lunch?”

“Didn’t get any,” The tall serpent shrugged, but failing to hide his excitement despite his attempt.

“Right, ‘cause your boyfriend’s making you one.” Toni snickers, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. Sweet Pea scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist the smile spreading across his lips.

The cafeteria doors opened as you finally enter with a lunch box and box of cupcakes in both hands, your eyes scanning across the room before falling on your boyfriend. A smile easily crossing Sweet Pea’s face when you waved enthusiastically and started rushing towards their table.

He immediately pulls you to sit on his lap and you peck him on the lips as a greeting, making your friends let out awes. You giggled after pulling away, making him smile. “What’s up, baby?”

“I made a lunch for you,” You showed him the round metallic lunch box with an excited grin. “It’s really not much, but I’m confident with my cooking skills so I promise it’s not poisonous. I also baked cupcakes!” Placing the lunch box in front of Sweet Pea on the table, you set the box of cupcakes down in the middle to ensure it wasn’t just for your lover.

Sweet Pea’s eyes sparkled in joy, his atmosphere radiating happiness that the Serpents had almost never seen him with. His anger issues tend to be the most noticeable trait of him, but ever since he got with you, they feel like it calmed down a bit. He kisses you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude before opening the lunch box and coming across his favourite foods, making his smile widen if that was possible. It made you smile softly, ruffling the back of his hair.

“Aww, aren’t there any for us?” Fangs asked, his arm thrown around Kevin’s shoulders.

“I want some too,” Toni whines beside Cheryl, attempting to reach her hand into the lunch box but being swatted lightly by Sweet Pea with a glare.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You laughed at their interaction and gestured to the thick and big box of cupcakes, “I couldn’t make lunch so I over-baked some cupcakes. Sorry pals, maybe next time.”

Everyone letting out cheers and noises of excitement, Cheryl stands up to open the big package and distribute each, the delicious sweet scent of baked goods making them sniff it. Awing at the sight of different flavoured cupcakes, Fangs couldn’t help but take a bite of his chocolate flavoured one, letting out satisfied noises before holding it out for Kevin to have a taste.

You also picked a banana flavoured cupcake for yourself after observing their reactions, pleased at the satisfaction and pleasant surprise coating their faces. Having a mother who opened her own bakery by your house had its perks; you were able to learn how to bake and cook many things through helping her, making it your new hobby. It also helped greatly in terms of charity work — you can share foods to people who aren’t financially capable and give them the opportunity to taste what they’ve never tasted before. Your father became even more proud that you’ve found more ways than one to help the people in need.

“This is so fucking good,” Sweet Pea remarks while munching on the lunch you gave him, oblivious to the loving gaze you had on him.

Everyone watches with soft smiles on their faces, how equally in love with each other you looked despite the obvious differences between your upbringing.

It came as a shock to everyone — except the Serpents — when the news spread that the nicest guy in Riverdale and the rage filled Serpent were dating. Some people placed a bet on how long it will last, some people showed their prejudice and disappointment, some people genuinely didn’t care.

Offhanded commentators were quickly shut off when the two of you displayed affection and love towards each other and ignored them entirely. No one could even tell you in person how much you let them down for associating with the worst one of Serpents because you always acted ignorant with too much happiness. If someone were to tell you that it was a terrible choice to date Sweet Pea, they were met with your passive-aggressive remarks on questionable choices they’ve made in the past that you somehow knew about. It got terrifying, to say the least.

The difference in your upbringing, status, or anything else didn’t matter at all. Neither of you judged each other for what you are.

Sweet Pea never questioned your unconditional kindness despite feeling upset when you let assholes slide, instead choosing to get angry at them for your sake. You never questioned his status as a gang member despite the several unpleasant rumours about Southside Serpents, instead choosing to learn what he does in their daily life and educate yourself.

The two of you fit together perfectly like a puzzle, as if you were each other’s missing piece. Arguments happen sometimes, but it’s quickly finished before the next day.

Really funny how the most healthy and non-toxic relationship in all of Riverdale is between a young Serpent and a young Humanitarian.

Unsurprisingly, the Serpents were quick to treat you as their own even before Sweet Pea had begun dating you. Your lack of judgment made every single one of them comfortable in your presence, often greeting you wherever you go and even helping you out when you need an extra hand, unafraid to be themselves knowing you wouldn’t think low of them. Your boyfriend’s friends were the most happiest at how their gang was being treated by you; all of them had nearly forgotten what it’s like to be seen as normal.

However, one question always remained in the back of their heads.

Could you get violent if pushed hard enough?

You never were.

There’s always an angelic halo floating above your head no matter where you go and no matter how aggressive your mouth gets. Sure, you spit out impressive insults sometimes when you get truly irritated by some idiotic behaviour, but that never really changed anyone’s perspective that you couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.

You were still soft, still kind. It’s impossible to even think about you having violent outbursts, it just seems too uncharacteristic of you.

Sweet Pea was always the one to throw fists when someone insults you knowing you’d never defend yourself. He’s the hot-headed while you were the cool-headed. It’s always been like that, and everyone refused to believe otherwise. After all, how can a Humanitarian go against what they usually do — helping people?

The obnoxious sound of Bulldogs’ laughter causes your smile to vanish in an instant as they approach with Reggie in front, leading them like a pack of filthy dogs as usual. Your friends stopped as well, each displaying a look of annoyance.

“What a bunch of losers sharing lil’ cupcakes,” Reggie mocks, earning snickers from his teammates.

Veronica rolled her eyes at their childishness, “Oh my god, just leave.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Reggie spat and Veronica was quick to hold her boyfriend Archie back, shaking her head to tell him it isn’t worth it. The Bulldogs laughed when the ginger sat back down, cockiness evident on their body language.

You caught Reggie eyeing the remaining cupcakes that were left on the box and quickly pulled it away before he could even reach a hand out, not noticing the way Sweet Pea was quieter than usual despite his nemesis’ arrival. “This isn’t yours, kid. Don’t even try taking one.” You sternly scolded, moving off of Sweet Pea’s lap to sit beside him closer to Reggie.

“Don’t fucking call me kid, I ain’t one.” The jock hissed, sharply glaring at you.

“Then quit acting like one.” You retort without missing a beat.

Letting out a scoff, Reggie’s lips twist up in a sneer. “At least I’m not acting like a pathetic little fag hanging out with other fags.”

“Reginald!” Cheryl shouts with disbelief, standing up abruptly at the same time Sweet Pea slammed his fist on the table while shooting Reggie a death glare. You quickly hold his bicep to calm him down, not wanting him to get in trouble. Everyone held unpleasant looks towards the nasty slur he just uttered, disgusted by his nerve.

“Fucking asshole,” Toni spat distastefully.

The Bulldogs laughed her off to themselves like a bunch of hyenas before Reggie’s gaze fell on Sweet Pea that didn’t seem to let his fist talk this time, a knowing smirk crossing his face. “What’s up, bro? You’re too quiet, we hit you too hard last time or something?”

You scowled and looked back at your boyfriend to see him glaring threateningly at Reggie, as if he was avoiding your gaze. “What is he talking about, Pea?” You question with a stern tone, then repeated it to the jock when he doesn’t answer, “What are you talking about?”

Reggie raised his brows, “You know nothing?”

“What are you talking about, Mantle.” You emphasised through gritted teeth.

Seeming amused by your slight impatience, Reggie tilts his head and mockingly chuckles under his breath. “Your little boyfriend here seems like he doesn’t know his place, so we taught him a lesson is all. You should put a tight leash on your dog if you don’t want dudes to jump him.”

Disbelief and anger morphed on your face, about to stand up from your seat to confront him more, only to feel Sweet Pea’s arm wrap around your torso to keep you in place. “Baby, don’t.” He whispered.

“What the hell, Reggie?” Betty gives him an incredulous look.

“Unfortunate that he didn’t fight back. Would’ve long been kicked out and thrown in jail if he did.” Reggie snickered along with his teammates before walking away, flipping the box of cupcakes in the process.

You glared after them with a clenched jaw and turned to Sweet Pea, your bright eyes piercing right through him that forced him to make eye contact with you despite his urge to avoid it. “Where are you hurt?” Your tone soft yet an edge to it, a suppressed anger only noticeable by Sweet Pea.

“I’m fine,” He tries to reassure you, turning to continue with his lunch.

“No, he said they jumped you.” You shake your head sternly and grabbed his shoulder to forcefully turn his body back, freezing when he yelped in pain and flinched. Sweet Pea swallowed, cursing himself internally for proving you right on accident, and looked up at you slowly. Your face was unreadable, which brought more nervousness on him.

Everyone watched as Sweet Pea sighs defeatedly and pull down his shirt to reveal the large bruises on his collarbone, your eyes widening and getting closer to inspect if it was shattered. Luckily it didn’t seem so, but your guts told you this wasn’t the only injury he got. Glancing up at Sweet Pea, you pulled up his shirt as gently as possible. Your breath hitched; a large, purple and yellow bruises littering his ribs and stomach.

“Motherfucker,” Fangs cursed in anger as rage filled him, Toni, and Jughead— however, before anyone could react, a chair loudly slammed against the floor from the sheer force of someone abruptly standing up.

A figure was sprinting towards Reggie in a flash, forcefully turning him around by the jacket before a strong fist collided with his face and he was tackled down to the floor. Gasps erupted all over the place as everyone in the cafeteria stood up in shock upon realising it was you, fearfulness appearing on their faces when you began punching him repeatedly without remorse.

Trapping Reggie under your body, you pulled him by his jacket only to punch him square on the jaw and slam his head on the concrete floor, pained noises leaving his mouth as he attempted to protect his head and face. Two Bulldogs scrambling closer to help Reggie while one of the others rushed off to call the Principal, you grabbed the arm of the guy who tried pulling you off of their leader and twisted it before kneeing his gut, making him fall to the floor on his knees. You used it as your opportunity to pull his arm to his back and dislocate him, a scream erupting from his mouth. The other guy swings his fist in your direction, which you dodged and kicked him towards a table, quickly grabbing his head to repeatedly slam his face on the hard surface.

Speechless was an understatement to describe what they felt witnessing the horrors of your rage with some trembling, some covering their eyes, and some unable to look away.

All you saw was red.

There’s nothing in your mind but to hurt the people that hurt the love of your life, dark and bloodthirsty eyes glinting dangerously as you look at Reggie’s bloodied state again. Blood pooled beneath his head as he coughed from the pain on his abdomen and head.

No one could recognise you — the gentle and soft atmosphere you usually surrounded yourself with being replaced by cold and lethal one. Rage is supposed to be foreign for someone as nice as you, but seemed fitting in this moment, as if you’ve been building it up within yourself until it exploded. The only ever push you needed was Sweet Pea being hurt to take everything out.

You were about to walk up to Reggie again before the sound of Sweet Pea’s voice calling your name reached you through the blood boiling in your head, and you stopped. Principal Weatherbee hurriedly rushed to the commotion, a look of terror spreading across his face after seeing you standing over Reggie’s beaten up state.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Weatherbee shouts, kneeling beside Reggie, who had passed out from the pain and shock.

Sweet Pea was the only one brave and courageous enough to approach you without hesitation, calling your name first to catch your attention as he gently pulled you by your forearm. “Stop, baby. That’s enough,” He whispered.

You stared Weatherbee down with calm rage and coldness that made fear dance across his face. “You teach your students to fight square and fair if they don’t want any more worse than this,” You muttered loud enough for him to hear, voice emotionless and non-remorseful.

Shifting your glare to the remaining Bulldogs that were frozen in their spot, they flinched when you stepped forward. “Gang up on my boyfriend again and I’ll fucking kill every single one of you,” You threatened with a murderous tone which told the graveness of it, making them nod their heads vigorously and care for their leader.

Weatherbee instructed them to bring Reggie and the two injured Bulldogs to the infirmary, then looked back at you with disbelief still on his expression. “Do you know what you have done? You could get expelled.”

“You think I care?” You challenged him, tilting your head. “They should’ve been expelled for what they did to Sweet Pea, but it wouldn’t matter because he’s a Southside Serpent, right? So I did exactly what they did to make them feel what it’s like, except it was just me alone. It’s a fair fight, Mr. Weatherbee. I don’t think I should be punished for making things equal between us.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly before rolling your eyes and walking away with Sweet Pea’s hand in yours.

Sweet Pea pulled you down to sit with him and began inspecting your bloody, busted knuckles. You look up to see not only your friends but everyone else staring, causing you to scowl. “What?” You snarled and they all looked away in fear.

Sweet Pea shushes you with a look as you returned your gaze on him, flashing him an innocent smile. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, he takes out a midnight blue handkerchief from his jacket pocket to gently wipe off the blood from your knuckles. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones on your fist.”

You chuckled, “Babe, I literally learn martial arts. And they were the ones who got their bones broken.”

“Still, shouldn’t have done that.” He replied. “Let’s go to the infirmary, you need this disinfected.”

“If you want me to actually end up killing Reginald Mantle, then I’m down.” You smirked, earning a disapproving look from him.

Sweet Pea takes your glasses that you had removed before the fight with the Bulldogs and gently places it on the bridge of your nose, adjusting it so you’ll be able to see properly. “Babe, I really don’t think you should. I love you for it, I’ll fucking watch you beat the shit out of him over again, but it wouldn’t be good news for your family business if rumours spread you have violent tendencies.” He gave you a pointed look.

You scrunched your nose, “Only when someone messes with my Sweet Pea.”

“Being violent’s my job, baby.” He chuckles.

“Not really,” You pushed up your glasses with the tip of your middle finger before leaning on the table on your elbow. “Being constantly nice isn’t my job, sweetheart. I can’t really show humanity to someone who hurts you, and I promise this wouldn’t be the last time you’ll see me take revenge for you.”

Sweet Pea sighed.

He doesn’t want your reputation to be tainted; being the bad guy is not unfamiliar for him and he was going to keep it that way if it meant nobody thought of you negatively. You’ve worked hard to build trust among the community and proved yourself a kind and helping soul, Sweet Pea didn’t want people’s perspective of you to change. But it’s actually true how people misunderstood you; all you have is basic human decency, something which some people lack, you weren’t the divine only-do-good they perceived you to be.

You’re still human despite being more helpful and nice than average, so you obviously have imperfections — that is, not being able to contain your anger when the one you love is unfairly treated. You were intelligent, but sometimes, your fists speak for yourself when assholes tests your patience too many times. Sweet Pea knew that and always tried his best to prevent you from losing your temper, although it couldn’t be helped in this case.

“You were pretty badass there, dude.” Jughead remarks after seeing you’ve calmed down, getting over the initiate shock.

Fangs agreed, “Yeah, it was dope. We didn’t know you could fight.”

“And break bones.” Kevin added, astonished.

“Fucking lit,” Toni chimes in with a box of emergency kit in her hand that she placed on the table. You raised your brows, wondering when she got out the cafeteria to get it, but smiled nonetheless.

“But wait, you said you learn martial arts.” Archie spoke next with curiosity in his expression. “Where do you learn it? Since when?”

You chuckle at their excitement and eagerness, feeling happy for the lack of judgment. Sweet Pea starts tending to your busted knuckles as you reply to the ginger head, “My father’s a professional. He’s been training me and other kids who wants to learn self defence techniques. It’s part of the business.”

“So, you’ve always known how to beat up people but never did it before?” Fangs asked.

“Yeah,” You shrug. “It’s unnecessary to result to violence all the time. No one tested my patience as far as Mantle did, he really deserved that to shut up for once. It’s absolutely effective to people who can’t mind their own damn business.” Grinning almost childishly, the gang chuckles at your new side while Sweet Pea, unamused, presses the cotton ball a little too hard on your injury causing a hiss to erupt from your mouth.

He had a glare in his eyes. “Don’t fucking do that again, you’ll get hurt. You know those scumbags would get back at you.”

Your face softened at the concerned look in his eyes, how the hands that treats you trembled slightly. “Darling,” You softly called and intertwined your fingers with his. “You know I had to. They can’t gang up on you like that, it’s not right. I couldn’t see you hurt and just let it slide.”

Sweet Pea nibbled on his lower lip nervously, still a little upset.

“I know you’re worried about my reputation and all, but I’m your boyfriend, Sweets. You come first before that.” You ruffled his hair affectionately with your uninjured hand and smiled. “I don’t care about what other people think of me, I’m still going to defend you.”

Sweet Pea stared into your sincere eyes before sighing in defeat, looking down at your injured knuckles. “Fine. But promise me you wouldn’t take any hits, I fucking hate seeing you injured.”

You chuckled at the sternness in his voice and saluted jokingly, “Copy that, boss. That can be arranged.” He rolled his eyes with a smile.

Betty raised her brows, “Okay… Has this ever happened before?” Gesturing to you.

“Uh… kind of?” You grimaced, scratching your head, as everyone gave you a questioning look. “I didn’t really beat up anyone at that time, but I might have… punched a hole through the wall.”

They widened their eyes in surprise as Cheryl drops her jaw, “The science classroom!”

You winced and nodded.

Toni laughs with a shake of her head, somehow finding the situation funny. “Who knew the nicest boy had the beast within him?” She jokes. “I’m glad to see this more human side of you. You were always so nice it was almost unsettling.”

Smiling at her, you nodded in acknowledgement. That’s a comment you always heard from people, that you were unnatural for being too kind. You were taught since childhood how to be a decent human being but to never let anyone take advantage of you, so you were just balancing it out — no one ever saw this side of yours before because they weren’t being unreasonable. You only lose your patience when pushed hard enough.

You looked at Sweet Pea to see him already getting back on treating your wound, dabbing the cotton ball gently on the cuts, making you admire his every features. It was adorable how he cared for your reputation. Made you want to make out with him right then and there, but it wasn’t appropriate for a dining place.

Everyone looks at Toni when your attention focused on Sweet Pea, shaking their heads slightly. Not certain if they were glad or scared to learn new things about you that’s been unknown for a long time.

“You don’t have to worry,” Your boyfriend speaks up without averting his gaze. “He’s not easy to piss off unless you push the wrong buttons all at once.”

“Sweet Pea’s the wrong button,” You immediately added with a grin that resembled a Golden Retriever, except it seems actually threatening. “Couldn’t care less about my haters.”

Of course, none of them disagreed to that.

The next day, Reggie walks in with his tail tucked between his legs after seeing you leaned back on your locker with Sweet Pea and the entire gang. Your mouth chewing on a bubblegum, that stupid glasses of yours resting on the bridge of your nose as usual with an outfit that reminds everyone of an elite nerd student.

Bruises and cuts littered around Reggie’s face with a prominent black eye, busted lip and swollen cheek. His steps slow to not add pressure on his injured leg and bruised torso. The students stared at him as if he was something else, probably gossiping among themselves about how he’s the one who caused the nicest boy in Riverdale seem like a completely different person.

He scoffs. You’re not the nicest boy at all.

You can’t hold that title anymore after the incident, but Reggie knew he didn’t have the guts to mock you about it when your presence alone made him cower and feel small.

As he carefully walked through the hallway, your eyes finally catches his figure and darkens almost in an instant, bright expression dropping to a blank look. Your friends were quick to become nervous seeing your almost deadly look, although Sweet Pea found it fun and amusing. Reggie looked at you as he stopped, afraid that if he walked past you’re just going to swing at him.

You cocked your head slightly, eyes burning deep into his soul as you stared at him from head to toe and circled around him like a predator watching its prey. Reggie felt uneasiness cloud his chest. He would’ve never done something like that if he knew the consequences to it.

Bumping on his shoulder that made him hiss in slight pain due to the injury on his shoulder, you returned to your place and sneered. “Where did the big bad dog go? He afraid of the faggot now or somethin’?” You laughed mockingly.

Reggie licked his lips nervously, not meeting your gaze.

You leaned your head down to forcefully look at him in the eye, grinning at the fear there. “All of this is merely a warning, Mantle. You go after my boyfriend like that again and I promise it’ll be much worse.”

Gulping, he nods his head vigorously and scrambles away when you finally decided to let him go.

Sweet Pea snickers under his breath after Reggie’s gone, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Really cool, baby. He was so fucking scared!” Smirking smugly at his laughter, you wrapped an arm back around his waist securely.

“After what happened, you probably can’t hold the nicest guy reputation anymore.” Archie remarked which causes you to laugh in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t even know who gave me that nickname.”

“For a quick information, it was Chuck and he actually did it to mock you but it backfired.” Cheryl stated and everyone hums, finding it makes sense.

You feel a little bit glad for lashing out, knowing not everyone will perceive you as this perfectly nice guy who could do no wrong. Having that kind of expectations are truly heavy on your shoulders when you’re not even half of what they expect. Your kindness isn’t infinity nor unconditional; it wears off like any human beings, you didn’t know why people thought otherwise when it came to you. It’s impossible to keep being nice when some assholes just ganged up on your boyfriend who’s never done anything wrong.

Sweet Pea’s always been precious to you. He’s the love of your life that brightens up your day, a ray of sunshine even though he’s got anger issues and you would do anything to prevent that brightness from wearing off. Now they know not to mess with him if they don’t want to get their asses beaten.

“Hey, Sweets?”

He hummed, turning to you. “Yeah?”

You peck his lips and smile, “I love you.”

Sweet Pea smiled back, pecking your cheek. “Love you too, baby.”

Beware of the nicest guy; no one’s ever allowed to hurt your boyfriend without the consequences of getting your fist on their face.

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