#red really has to put up with so much....

[gluttonousgoddess]

As a simple example, that 8 glasses of water thing was a lie spread by scientists that were partnered with Gatorade. Just drink when you're thirsty.

Diamonds and bacon are in a similar boat. People love them mostly because of advertisements. That's why diamonds cost so much, too! Now, granted, gems are pretty, and bacon tastes good, but the ads did more harm than good.

And cutting calories doesn't work because calories are just how much energy it takes to boil it in water, and your body runs to use whatever nutrients it can when it has a deficit. It's not uncommon for it to eat at your muscles and other soft tissues instead of fat. As ironic as it is for someone like me to say, the best diet for losing weight is a balanced one. Sugar is the main issue, btw, not fat. In fact, fat is healthy for you, gets turned into lipids which can be beneficial for brain health. Now that doesn't mean you should just eat fat, it's all about balance and moderation. Grease is in a similar vein, it's not quite the best for you but a bit here and there won't kill you. And frankly, a bit of a belly is good for humans, it protects the body from bludgeoning and slashing damage. Sure, it'll hurt like hell, but you're more likely to get a punctured innards or have them fall out if you are thin than if you have some fat blocking the way. The main danger is the oily fat that surrounds organs, not the kind that covers your body. External is fine, internal is dangerous.

Then there's the BRAT diet. While it is easier on your digestive system, it can actually make diarrhea WORSE because the food is so soft it leaves acid left over. Same with grapes and meal substitute drinks. Especially meal substitute drinks! Liquid diets in general do this, but these are the worst because you drink enough to fill your stomach, prompting it to generate acid...for something that is pretty much already digested...I think you see the problem.

Everyone knows cold helps with swelling. Problem is, swelling is important for recovery, and putting ice on it actually slows recovery down. You actually want to put warmth on it! You want more blood to the area, because it brings nutrients and cells that fight infections.

As well, everyone knows to use IcyHot, right? Wrong, the chemicals used to make that work, especially the stuff that directly puts it on your body like the rollers, actually damages your skin and can lead to skin cancer!

And then there's Red 40. A synthetic chemical that also gives cancer!

Everyone knows you have to cook meat. Problem is, the smoke and char that can cause leads to cancer too. Not the meat itself, though. And I still don't trust any meat that isn't well done. Way too risky. You do know there can be germs inside the meat, right?

Everyone knows vaping is supposed to be a safe alternative to smoking. Problem is, water vapor in the lungs can easily lead to mold and infections. And the nicotine is so concentrated it's actually worse than cigarettes!

And my personal favorite, everyone knows Pokemon Gen 1 was held together with duct tape and dreams, except the glitches actually occur due to them using things to make other things happen. For example, having the name "Old Man" show up is done by storing your name in the town Pokemon tables. Those get reset when you enter a new route. But the area by the islands are coded to be water tiles within the city in the English versions. Not an issue, just program an encounter table for them...oh, right, since it's an English oversight, there was never an intended table. Really the easy fix would have been to extend the routes to include those edges. But yea, the reality is that the games did so much with what they had that hiccups occur. Same with Gen 2, that's why you can get a Celebi by using Beat Up, same index number. Gen 3 they got enough space to not have to be bleeding edge, so their glitches are from things interacting in ways nobody expected, like Glitzer Popping.

So yea, there's nothing wrong with fact checking "common knowledge", because we learn new things all the time. Common knowledge could easily be lies, or misunderstandings, or assumptions.

[etiolatedmutant]

logan seeing a picture of wade pre-mutation

he has a weird moment of “why tf is there a picture of that nicepool douche in my house” before he Realizes

and wade is like “oh great now That’s gonna be in his mind forever, what i used to look like before the ground beefing of it all, just what i fuckin needed” and he makes a joke (shocker) to stave off how insecure he is

“i was trying to make lepers fashionable, jokes on me i guess”

and logan just eyes the photo and says, “you look weird.”

wade’s Shocked. he was a fucking Looker back then, thank you very much. “there’s just no winning with you, is there?” he asks.

and logan turns the photo over and over in his hands, dis-fucking-pleased, before he flicks it back from whence it came. and he looks at wade, all green-eyed disarming honesty, and says, “i like my version better.”

and if wade didn’t Know logan, didn’t know the shine in his eye and the sincere timbre of his voice, he’d call bullshit. no one in their right mind would prefer him Now to the Him of 2016, right? nessa only put up with it because he was kinda grandfathered into that relationship and she liked his insides as well as his outsides (hey-o)

but he does know logan, and he knows that logan doesn’t mince words or sugarcoat Anything in the name of “sparing feelings,” so he sits there, digesting the compliment like gas station sushi — which is to say, not fucking well at all.

to make matters worse (or, well, better, he guesses) he finds a picture of Him Now and logan from nessa’s new year’s eve party magnetized to the fridge the next day.

it’s poorly lit, illuminated only by shattering fireworks overhead and a few yellow streetlights, and they’re both clearly smashed — wade’s eyes are glassy and red, logan’s cheeks are flushed, and the finer details of their faces have been smudged away thanks to shaky camerawork.

but they’re happy. wade looks happy — he’s smiling, a big, fat, candid grin, like he’d been laughing, and logan’s kissing his cheek, unashamed. he’d been wade’s first new year’s kiss in a long fucking time.

he buys a frame for that picture - a sparkly pink monstrosity from goodwill - and gives it a home on the nightstand next to their bed. and yeah, whatever, on bad days he looks at it and thinks eugh, still, because goddamn francis really did a number on him —

but most days, he’s just happy he gets to be that guy in the picture at all. the guy logan howlett stayed for. the guy logan kissed in front of dozens of people.

logan’s version.

[buck-star]

Valentines sparkle

Overhearing a conversation between two girls, Logan doubts himself a lot more than he should. Trying to have you see and feel the sparkle of Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.082 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, softness, insecurity, mention of past sexual content, petname [trouble, baby]

Authors Note: Thought about a little something for the Event Loveuary by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, so here you are. Have fun and enjoy. There are one or two scenes where I could definitely think about a little something, if someone is interested. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-One | I’m yours]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

His eyes roam over the aisles of the shop; everywhere is pink and red stuff, heart-shaped or with hearts and flowers on them. His heart clenches as he notices another girl with her best friend walking to the little spot with chocolate and little boxes made for rings or cards — concerts, trips, everything.

“Maybe he’s asking me then. I saw he looked at these little boxes last time we went shopping. And today he went out, telling me he has to get something from the office. The office isn’t open today,” she says with a wide grin on her face. Her best friend giggles slightly, looking at the boxes as well; her eyes light up when she sees a small one she likes.

“Hopefully I will be that one. It’s so pretty,” she mumbles and lifts a small box in a heart-shaped form with small roses all over it. She holds it almost in her friend's face, who’s looking through the others to find her favorite. “Does he even know what you like? I mean, he’s a man after all, isn’t he?”

Both of them laugh. The girl who’s talking about her boyfriend nods. She’s reaching for another little box and holding it out. It’s a rose-shaped box, and there are a few little roses too. “He does, mostly. But look at this box; you can let them engrave your names in it.”

They put the boxes away again but keep standing there. The girl who’s pretty sure her boyfriend is going to ask her to marry him points at a few more things, telling her friend she needs that too. While her friend always shows other stuff that she likes and keeps asking if the man really knows what her friend likes.

“Lo? Baby?” Your soft voice comes from behind him when you place some sweets and drinks in the cart in front of Logan. He’s turning around, a slight frown on his face, but he tries to force a smile on his lips and nods. “Hey, you good? You look… I don’t know, confused, unsure?”

“Mhm, ‘m fine, trouble,” he grumbles and turns back to the cart and shoves it in front of himself through the aisle. You walk next to him, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend, who does not look as good as he tries to pretend. “Need something else?”

You shake your head and lead him to the cashiers. Logan nods; he’s not too much into shopping, and the conversation between these two women made him feel uncomfortable. An aching feeling in his chest while he thinks about the relationship with you.

“Baby, can you please—“ you giggle when you pull the cart closer to you. He narrows his eyes, looking at you, then at the cashier, and nods. Logan didn’t notice his tight grip around the cart or that he remained in his spot while the people before you already walked out of the shop.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and helps you with the groceries. You notice Logan’s narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his jaw clenched harshly. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t crush the eggs he’s holding in his hands, or the bottle he’s handing you.

You stay quiet, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. So you just pay and let him push the cart out of the shop to the truck. He’s grumbling under his breath, his knuckles turning white with the force he’s using to hold the handle of the cart.

“Lo, you know, whatever it is that bothers you, you can talk to me. You don’t have to break the cart to get out of your mood, and you don’t have to swallow it all,” you say softly, placing your hand on his thick, hairy arm. His green eyes drop to your hand; he loves how small your hand looks compared to his arm, but he keeps his cold expression. Logan lets his eyes trail down your arm, over your shoulder to your face. His eyes lock with yours, and he nods.

“I know, trouble,” he whispers. Of course, he knows. You sit down at night with him to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. You’re staying up all night with him when he has nightmares and is afraid to get back to sleep. “But it’s nothin’.”

You nod, not convinced by him, but you don’t want to push either. So you just put the groceries in the car. Logan keeps grumbling and mumbling under his breath, his eyes moving back and forth between the shop and you, but he doesn’t say a word.

The drive back home is quiet except for the music, the only sound next to the engine that fills the car. Logan acts like he’s focused on the street, even though you feel his eyes on you every now and then. They are piercing, intense, and something is bringing deep inside of them, a fire he doesn’t dare to let out.

His lips part, but he stays quiet. You look out of the window, watching the people and houses pass by. Logan and you live outside of town, in a little wooden house that offers the two of you a comforting and relaxing place without too many people around.

He parks the car and gets out; you follow him. Logan’s intense stare is still on you when you grasp two of the paper bags to carry them inside. He does the same, but instead of just two paper bags he takes six and brings them into your shared house.

Shopping with your boyfriend is pretty easy since he can carry so much more, and you don’t have to walk back and forth to carry all the groceries. You kick the door closed and shrug off your jackets and shoes, walking into the kitchen where Logan is already unpacking all the groceries.

“Trouble?” He asks, his voice shaking slightly, and he keeps his back to you. You hum, letting him know he can continue talking. “‘M sorry. I just… I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I know, you’re an open book for me, baby,” you reply, walking over to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind while you push your head underneath his arm to look up at him.

Logan looks down, smiling softly at you. You’re just too adorable when you do that. His heart skips a beat, but the flutter is soon replaced with the heavy uncertainty again. “There were two girls who talked about one of the girl's boyfriend. She said she thinks he’s asking her to marry him, and her friend asked her to… if he even knows her because he’s a man,” Logan whispers, turning around in your warm embrace to face you. You’re tilting your head up, listening intensely to your boyfriend. “I don’t want to disappoint you with not getting engaged on Valentine's Day… and I… I don’t know if you… thought I would ask you to, or if I know you to buy you something you would like; I’m a man too.”

You chuckle softly; this man is just too adorable for his own good. “I don’t expect you to ask anything like that, Lo. I don’t even expect a present from you for Valentine’s Day or any other event,” you say softly, bringing your hands to his firm chest.

“But I wouldn’t even know what you like anyway,” he grumbles, doubting himself. Even though he should know better, even though you know better, you let him speak without interrupting him. “I’m your boyfriend; I should give you something. I should know what you love, what I could get you as a present.”

You smile, snaking your hands from his chest up to capture his cheeks and pull him down, his face only inches away from yours. “You remember what you got me for Christmas?”

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and he nods his head immediately. His green eyes light up, and he grabs your waist tightly, pulling you closer. “This big stuffed animal, it doesn’t even fit in our bed, but you love it, trouble. Of course, I know what I gave you for Christmas; how could I forget that sweet smil—“

His eyes widen when he notices; he knows you. Logan knows what you like. He gave you a present for Christmas that made your smile bigger than he has ever seen a smile and your eyes were brighter than the sun when you unwrapped it.

“I know you… I know what you like; that’s why you mean?” He asks. You nod with a soft grin on your lips. “But that’s different; you told me you liked it. But—“

“You don’t have to read my thoughts, Lo,” you mumble. Logan shakes his head; he would love to read your thoughts. He would love it to make sure you always get what you want.

“But… even though I know what you like. Or you tell me what you like. Celebrating such a day…? It feels just like I don’t deserve to celebrate it. I don’t think I deserve you, and yet we want to celebrate it?”

“We don’t have to. We can also spend the day like every other day,” you say softly, but Logan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but he would be at himself for acting like it’s nothing special. “But you deserve love, so much love, so don’t dare to doubt it, Lo. But if you doubt it, then I will prove to you that you’re wrong. Because I love you, every day. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you too, but you love special days; you love Valentine’s Day…” he mumbles, remembering the conversation you had on a date where you saw some hearts and roses, and it reminded you of Valentine's Day. You confess that the sparkle of the day wasn’t there since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up, but you still liked the thought of it and hoped someone would bring back the sparkle one day. “I want to bring back the startle for you. I want to be the one who gives you a reason to love Valentine’s Day, to love every day with me.”

“I love every day with you.”

“Trouble… I want to make it a special day. So shut up and be good for me,” Logan grumbles, a soft smile on his plump lips. “Do you remember the little cabin with the sauna and the hot tub?”

You nod with a grin; the sauna and the hot tub were a lot of fun in every way you can think of having fun with Logan. “Mhm… how can I not after having to clean the whole sauna because someone thought about spilling his cum everywhere but where he said he wanted it to be?”

Logan blushes, his fingers digging further into your skin, and he leans his head down. “You’re playing with fire, trouble.”

“It’s true. You said you want—“ you tease with a smile but get interrupted by Logan, who narrows his eyes slightly. He digs his fingers further into your skin, pulling you closer with a low grumble in his chest.

“How about we keep your pretty mouth shut before I have to stuff it?” Logan growls, pressing his plump lips on yours to shut you up. You chuckle, kissing him back softly while you try to push your tongue through his lips. Logan groans into your mouth, not letting you dominate him in the slightest. “We are spending Valentine’s Day in that cabin, in that hot tub, in that sauna. With movies, sunsets, sunrises, and food. Maybe some chocolate and ice cream, too.”

And so you do; you spend Valentine’s Day with Logan in that pretty cabin. Most of the day in either the hot tub or the sauna with Logan buried inside of you. Or on the couch in his arms while he turns on one cheesy movie after the other. Logan even asked you to let him help you cook the dinner for the two of you, even though he spent most of the time kissing your neck and keeping his strong arms tightly around your waist while he mumbles praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. And yes… he helps you to bring back the sparkle of Valentine’s Day, not just for you, but also for himself.

Wanna see some more of Logan and Trouble? Let me know if you have any ideas.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic [tag yourself]

[themandylion]

Hi, professional book typesetter/desktop publisher/graphic designer here! I've designed more than a few book covers for print publishing companies in my time and have a few tips/things to add.

Resolution. If you are making book covers for print (or, really, anything, for print), you're going to want your images to be high resolution. The go-to resolution for items like book covers is 300 dpi (dots per inch, sometimes called ppi—pixels per inch). Anything lower and you start to lose quality. (A lot of people are posting images at hella-high dpi as screen resolutions improve and they want their art to look good. This makes it so much easier for unsavory people to steal your art, slap it on a shirt, and have unsuspecting customers buy it without realizing it's super-duper stolen. So. Something to think about, maybe. :) )

Color Mode. Most people creating digital art for display on the web are doing it in RGB (red-green-blue) files. This is also, usually, the color mode for most digital cameras and thus the mode of any photos taken with them. It looks great on a screen because it's specifically how light mixes. If you're designing a cover for print, however, it's best to do it in CMYK (cyan-magenta-yellow-black), since those are how ink mixes. You can change this usually under something like... Image > Mode > CMYK; terms/location may vary from program to program. If you don't do this, when you print out your cover it is going to look dull and sad and not as bright and vibrant as what you designed in RGB.

Photopea.com is an amazing free in-browser graphics program that is very similar to Photoshop. A few of the tools are simpler/have to be approached at a different angle than Photoshop, but as someone who has been using paint programs for 35+ years and Photoshop for 25+ years, it's now my go-to when I don't want to boot up my old computer that has Photoshop installed. (I tried GIMP originally and while I didn't find it difficult to install, I found it a pain to work with and had to fight it every step of the way.)

In addition to those sites shared in the OP, a good place you to find free and Creative Commons images is Flickr. That link specifically goes to the advanced search page because you're going to want to mess with the Search filters—click that, scroll down and change Any license to Commercial use & mods allowed. A lot of U.S. government agencies (like FWS and NPS) have Flickr accounts where they post amazing photos. Any photo taken by a U.S. federal employee in the course of their duty is in public domain however this does not cover photos of people (you need photo releases for those).

When using Flickr to find images, it's always a good idea to check the description (especially if it's not a government account)—Flickr's default when you upload is to put all images under CC2.0 and that isn't always the intention of the photographer. :\ This is really important to keep in mind when using Wikimedia Commons (suggested by in the article linked in the OP) because some of the pictures on Wikimedia Commons were picked up from Flickr by a bot and the Flickr OP has since realized they originally posted with the wrong license and subsequently changed it. If you use Wikimedia Commons for CC pictures, always click back to the original source and double-check the license if it was picked up by a bot.

Too many writers are using generative 'AI' to make their book covers, so I've written a guide on how to make your own cover for free or cheap without turning to a machine.

If you can't afford to pay an artist, you CAN make your own!

I hope this is a helpful overview that covers the basics and points to some free resources.

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[theodorenmyth]

Little Loveboy

Pairings; Mattheo Riddle x GN!reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been hopelessly in love with you since third year, but he refuses to admit it. He dates around, flirts with random girls, and scoffs whenever his friends bring you up—but he just can't shake his feelings. His jealousy is uncontrollable, and his friends never let him hear the end of it. Eventually, even professors start teasing him, much to his dismay.

A/n : starting from today to the 16th of February, I'm gonna make Valentine themed fanfics so no angst.

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 900+

Mattheo Riddle was, as Theodore put it, fucking doomed.

He had been doomed since third year, when he first saw you absolutely wreck the entire class during a debate with Snape about the properties of Amortentia. The way your eyes gleamed with passion, the way you sat so effortlessly confident, the way you were just so fucking smart—it made his heart do something weird. Like it wanted to jump out of his chest and roll across the floor.

And that? That wasn’t normal.

So, obviously, he did the only logical thing—he ignored it. For years.

Instead of admitting that he found you painfully attractive, he spent his time flirting with girls, dating left and right, pretending like he wasn’t being driven up the wall whenever you smiled at someone else.

But the problem with having a hopelessly obvious crush was that Mattheo’s friends were absolute menaces.

“You’re staring again, Little Loveboy,” Pansy sang, flicking his forehead.

“I’m not staring,” Mattheo grumbled, leaning back in his chair, definitely not still looking at you.

“Right,” Blaise drawled, looking over at where you were sitting by the window, absorbed in a book. “That’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N for the past—what? Fifteen minutes?”

“I don’t like him,” Mattheo snapped, but the moment he said it, he glanced at you again.

And just like that, Theodore fucking grinned.

“Oh, mate,” Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You are so gone.”

Draco, sitting beside him, smirked. “It’s honestly embarrassing at this point.”

“You know what’s embarrassing?” Mattheo scoffed. “The fact that you all have nothing better to do than bother me.”

“You make it too easy,” Lorenzo snickered. “Little Loveboy.”

“I will throw you out the fucking window.”

And then, as if the universe hated Mattheo, you looked up from your book. Your eyes met his for half a second, and you smiled at him—a simple, small thing, but oh my fucking God.

Mattheo nearly choked on his own tongue.

His friends exploded into laughter.

“Oh, he’s red!” Pansy gasped. “He’s actually blushing!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mattheo hissed, yanking his hood over his face.

But the teasing didn’t stop there.

No, it got worse.

Because apparently, his suffering was entertainment to not only his friends, but also his professors.

During one particularly terrible Potions class, Mattheo had spent a good portion of the lesson staring at you. Not that he noticed. It just kept happening..

And Snape, ever the observant bastard, took full advantage of this.

“Mr. Riddle,” Snape drawled, interrupting the entire class, “perhaps you would find this lesson more engaging if you spent less time gazing longingly at Mr. Y/L/N and more time focusing on the assignment?”

The entire class turned to look at him.

Mattheo’s jaw dropped.

Even you looked over, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mattheo muttered under his breath as his friends burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell,” Draco wheezed, gripping the edge of the table. “Even Snape’s in on it.”

“I hate all of you,” Mattheo gritted out, slamming his book shut.

Snape smirked. “Detention, Riddle.”

Mattheo groaned.

But it didn’t stop there.

Because McGonagall got involved too.

During Transfiguration, Mattheo had, once again, found himself subconsciously staring at you instead of his assignment.

He was trying—he really was—but you had this habit of biting your lip when you were focused, and it was distracting as fuck.

“Mr. Riddle,” McGonagall said, sighing dramatically, “if you’re quite done swooning over Mr. Y/L/N, perhaps you’d like to contribute to the class?”

The Gryffindors howled with laughter.

Mattheo buried his face in his hands. “I’m actually going to die.”

And, of course, the final nail in the coffin was Hagrid.

It was during Care of Magical Creatures. You were partnered with some random Ravenclaw—too close, too friendly, and Mattheo hated it.

He stood there, arms crossed, glowering at the poor guy.

“Merlin, that’s a death stare if I’ve ever seen one,” Theo muttered.

And then, loudly, Hagrid chuckled, “Oh, don’t be jealous, Mattheo, ‘s not like Y/N’s runnin’ off to marry ‘im.”

You turned to look at Mattheo.

Mattheo, absolutely horrified, turned and ran into the fucking woods.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

After that, Mattheo’s denial crumbled like a cheap pastry.

He liked you. He liked you so much it physically hurt.

And after weeks of torment, he finally decided—fuck it.

So, he found you sitting by the Black Lake one afternoon, reading as always, and he sat down beside you.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hey, Mattheo.”

Mattheo almost short-circuited.

Your voice. Your fucking voice.

“Hey,” he muttered, trying to act casual, even though his entire body was buzzing with nerves. “So. Uh. I—uh.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You okay?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. Just do it, Riddle.

“I like you, okay?” he blurted out.

You blinked. “You—what?”

Mattheo groaned. “I like you. I’ve liked you since third year. I tried to ignore it, but—Merlin, you’re just so fucking cute and smart and perfect and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your face slowly turned red.

“Oh,” you said.

Mattheo stared at you, heart pounding. “Oh?”

And then, after several painfully long seconds, you smiled.

Smiled.

“That’s funny,” you murmured, “because I’ve liked you since third year, too.”

Mattheo’s brain broke.

“…You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

And then, without thinking, Mattheo grabbed your face and kissed you.

The moment your lips met, his entire world tilted.

You kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and everything felt right.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was breathless, staring at you like you hung the bloody moon.

“Little Loveboy,” you teased.

Mattheo groaned. “Not you, too.”

You just laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

And for once, Mattheo didn’t deny it.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ THE BISHOP & HER QUEEN ᝰ! S.L.

your superhero love story with kate bishop sophia!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. ❫ ｡ katebishop!sophia x f!r 𖥔 fluff, hawkeye au ── disclaimers: mentions of violence, trauma, injuries, kissing, harsh language, enemies to lovers, yelena belova!reader ／ ℭatalogue

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, of all the enemies you’ve faced during your time as an assassin/spy, is the hardest to kill for some odd reason. she was one quick, stupid little amateur

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who was so offended the first time you refused to fight her because you “didn’t have time for it”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, whose mentor was the one you were really looking for in hopes of getting some answers regarding the whereabouts of your sister. when you broke into the underground training facility her frequented, instead of finding him and torturing the answers out of him like you had initially hoped for, you found her eating pizza

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA shot up with her mouth full and her cute chow chow, charlie nibbling on some crusts

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who scrambled for her bow on the opposite end of the resting couch behind the boxing ring. by the time she had her weapon in her hands, you were already gone, no longer standing where you were mere seconds ago

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who couldn’t put up much of a fight when you pinned her to the ground in the flash of an eye

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA’s bow and arrow being kicked as far as you could with her under your knee. you leant down, shushing her as her dog barked feverishly at you. once she ceased her grunts of struggle, the hand you had pushing her head into the wood let go. you asked, “where’s barton?”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, “why the fuck would i tell you?”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who mumbled curses and yelled at you to get off as you looked around for any clue or signs of the man you were hunting. when you noticed a surveillance camera at the very corner of the gym, you turned back to her

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who promised to not making any stupid decisions when you started playing with charlie, scared you’ll hurt her big, fluffy boy if she made the wrong move

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who shot death glares at you as you sauntered around and examined the place, she rubbed her sore neck as you took in every detail you could, all the while eating a stolen slice of her sausage and mushroom pizza

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA absolutely hating your guts

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA immediately whining to clint about you pinning her to the ground with ease once she warned him of your arrival. for somebody who just heard they were being hunted down, he was very comfortable teasing sophia for her lack of skill when it came to physical altercations

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who started training harder after

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA did lots of research on you, initially finding nothing, you were a nobody with no records and no names (which frustrated her to no end) until she snuck into the cia compound with clint once for a mission and found your file amidst those of wanted fugitives of the nation

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who disliked you more upon reading your file; you were wanted in more than 40 states, for crimes like treason, massacres, and terrorism. not a single police force in any of those states, with help from fbi, cia and secret services has anybody successfully been able to catch you. so she made herself a promise then and there

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA vowing if she ever saw you again, she’d be ready--she was going to put you away forever so you wouldn’t be able to hurt clint, or anybody else for that matter

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who goes to the gym more often

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who forced clint to help her better her agility, her speed and her aim. she was getting much better by the second month since her run in with you

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who found out about the red room through clint. she did her own research, reading about the horrific and tragic simulations young girls and women were subjected to for the sake of creating the perfect weapons. there were two names at the top of the best graduating classes of the programme--natasha romanoff and you, named the deadliest pair of siblings, dead or alive, internationally

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who came home one day to you

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA immediately drawing her bow, her glossy lips pursing at the smirk you threw her way. you had a pot in your hand, stirring whatever was inside casually, as if she weren’t one release away from kebabing you in the heart

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA clenching her jaw, muttering, “what the fuck are you doing here? how’d you know where i live?”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA feeling like just killing you before you can answer when you laughed at the question. you rose the fork, licking off whatever cheese was on it as you stared right at her. you smirked at the visible gulp from her. you set the pot down onto her dinner table, grabbing the bottle of sriracha. you continued prepping your meal, unfazed by the sharp tip pointed straight at you. “you’re cute, baby archer. you should really learn some survival skills, if you had people following you, you’d never know.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, taken aback by your statement, felt her hands shake at the tightening grip she had on her bow

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who had no choice but to put down her bow when you started feeding charlie some mac and cheese. “you’re a smart girl, laforteza, i trust you know you’re putting more than yourself in danger if you keep pointing that little toy at me.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA standing still. “what do you want?”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA rolling her eyes at you explaining your grudge with clint whilst playing with charlie. the poor chow chow was a sweet dog, but right now he doesn’t seem to realize he was playing with the enemy. “i’m not here for you, laforteza. i work off an eye for an eye. and barton owes me his.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA insisting there is another way for you to get even without killing him. you shook your head at her pleads about him having a family, a life, yaddy yaddy yaddah, you kicked the chair opposite to you, gesturing for her to sit

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA obeying your instructions, sitting

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who whistled, finally getting her hands around charlie to keep him away from you. the dog hesitantly leaped away from you, tail wagging and traces of mac and cheese around his lips and panting tongue

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA not being able to do anything when you stood to leave, pushing the empty pot towards her. you gave her a cheeky peck at the corner of her lips, hand patting her cheek. you blow her one last kiss before waving goodbye, dropping out the window and disappearing into the night

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA hating herself for letting you go that night when you left her apartment

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA had a feeling you would be coming by her apartment again one way or another. her and clint were no longer training together because you had tabs on her, which meant she could lead you to him. she could tell you were growing desperate because she was keeping her own tabs on you; she found out the fake identity you used off the id she swiped from you last time, and she tracks your paper trail

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA greeting you with a smile the next time you snuck into her home. charlie immediately pounced to greet you, pawing at your knees and licking your hand. you glanced up at her, reciprocating the smirk she was throwing your way. “well, look who’s all dolled up for me… am i really the special girl in your life, laforteza?”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA kicking her pizza box towards you. “you loved my order the first time we met, thought i’d save you a couple slices.” you nodded, amused at the foreign behaviour

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA leaning over her couch, urging you to sit and you do. what can you say, you loved a woman who bosses you around. her hands grabbed the back of the couch, standing over you from behind as her head dipped to whisper in your ear, “look, cherry gordon,” she spat your fake name like it was venom, “you’re going to stop looking for my friend and you’re going to sit here because shield is on their way. we’re gonna have a chat here, and you’re gonna listen up.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who thinks she has the upper hand, which you found absolutely adorable, but was so oblivious to the fact you’re always one step ahead. but you thought she was too adorable to ruin the fun for, so you let her feel like she knew what she was doing for another fifteen minutes

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, who was super offended when you asked her if she was done with her little spiel

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who didn’t even have time to react when you grabbed her neck that was over your shoulder. you flipped her over, standing from where you sat to pin her over the coffee table. you had her in a headlock, leaning down to, just like she had, whisper in her ear: “i’ll give it to you, baby archer, you found more than i thought you would when i left those little crumbs for you to nibble at. the thing is, i’ve found barton for weeks already. i’m just here because i couldn’t resist seeing you again--also, i brought you a gift, since you so kindly welcomed me into your home with the best kraft i’ve ever had.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA sighing in defeat at you managing to pin her again. she wasn’t one to give up, but she wouldn’t want to embarrass herself more by struggling and failing to free herself from your grasp

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA getting tied up, like a good girl

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA being strapped to a chair with a bruise forming around the cut on her forehead. her head hit the table a little too hard, but she was putting up a tough front for the sake of her aura. you grabbed her a bag of peas from the freezer, holding it up to her head as you cooed. “oh poor baby, you bruise like a peach,” you pouted, tending to her head, “if you didn’t try acting all cocky like that, this wouldn’t have happened. i did think it was incredibly cute, but i left more than three hints here and there.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who was scared you had already hurt clint, but you assured her he was safe--“oh, barton? he’s just fine, laforteza, don’t worry. as long as you sit and listen for the next…” you check your watch, “ten minutes? before the shield team you called shows up? they’re horrible agents, really, just absolutely terrible.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA unsure of what to do, but obeys

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA not knowing if you were still trying to kill her or if you were just hitting on her so she calls you out on it. you laugh at the suggestion, “kill you? honey, when have i ever tried to kill you? if i wanted to kill you, you would’ve been long dead by now.” she was stupid, she knew you were right

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who couldn’t understand why you were treating the bruise on her head, but you started talking

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who couldn’t help but feel her heart race more than just because of the adrenaline, but because you were practically sitting on her lap as you spoke: “y’know, i really am flattered i seem to be on your mind, laforteza. food is the way to a woman’s heart,” you nodded towards the pizza, “but you’ve been such a delightful nuisance, i can’t have you tailing me and making my life just that bit harder anymore. so as much as i’ve loved this little game we’ve been playing, i’m making it clear it has got to stop.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA, noting the closing proximity between the two of you, she could hear the blaring sirens in a distance, as well as the helicopter buzzing closer with each passing second. you didn’t fret, very calm and collected

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA who watched you set the bag of peas on her lap before bidding her the last few words; “don’t worry, archer, i’ll be back when i get the agents off my back. until then, take care of yourself and little dani… i named him dani, i think it’s fitting. thanks for the pizza.” you leant forward, kissing her, long and slow on the lips. she didn’t flinch, she didn’t reject you--given, you already knew of her little crush when she acted like a boy picking on a girl on a playground--instead, she closed her eyes, savouring the taste of your lips on hers. deep down, she regretted calling shield now, even though you tried killing clint. she couldn’t wait to see you again

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA looking like a teenage boy who just got his first kiss, jaw dropped and in disbelief as you pulled back, hand tracing from her jaw down to her chest. your nail against the lining of her suit, she felt her skin crawl. you blew her a kiss, folding your fingers in a small wave. “until next time, cupid. try reading a spy 101 book, you might learn a thing or two about being subtle and secret.”

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA feeling her stomach flutter instead of churn watching you leave

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA feeling her bounds loosen

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA realizing you never tied her up in a dead knot, but was still found and humiliated in front of all the shield agents as she wrung herself free. she had to explain herself to the agents, and they were not happy to leave empty handed after the promise of returning to their headquarters with you in cuffs

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA desperately trying to find a way to contact you after, silently praying you’d come by her home, but she knew her place would be heavily surveilled. and she knew you were much smarter than that, you were no novice

✵ KATEBISHOP!SOPHIA misses you… will you swing by?

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 oh kate bishop sophia, how i long for the day i get to see you… thor!dani is probably next on my list so LESSSGETITTTT anyway hope you guys are enjoying the hero posts so far i’ve had a lot of fun making them. happy reading! xx

@sillymommy6969 © ──────────── Feb 2025

[insidekatmind]

Nsfw alphabet~Cho Sang-woo

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sang woo will hold you close to him after sex, cuddle you and kiss you softly and praise you for being his good girl.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sang woo ama tutto di te, è ossessionato da te e ti ama con tutto il suo essere. Non ha una parte preferita, lui venera tutto il tuo corpo senza fare eccezioni.

Ama molto il tuo culo e il tuo seno. Ama schiaffeggiarti il culo o succhiarti il seno senza motivo.

Tu di lui ami tutto e adori molto le sue braccia dove ti senti a sicuro e i suoi occhi

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to come inside you and fill you all up.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has no problem with you because he does everything he wants with you because he knows you agree.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a lot of experience and the fact that he is older than you gives you much more pleasure than a normal guy your age could give you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves any position where he can take charge. But he mostly prefers the missionary position, so he can fuck you hard and mark your neck or suck your nipples and kiss you to his heart's content. Sang woo also likes it when you straddle him, and even there he will have control, deciding the movement of your hips.

J = Jack off (handjob headcanon)

He doesn't jerk off much, he lets you do everything. If he feels like it and you go in a hurry, he will definitely get a blowjob from you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sang woo has a lot of kink:

-The daddy kink: always wants to be called Daddy or sir. He likes these two nicknames, they make him powerful and dominant.

-Dominant Kink: loves to be in control. He's always in control: even when you ride his cock, he's in control.

-Cock Warming: He likes it when you warm his cock. When he's tired he'll take you onto his lap and put his cock inside you without uncovered, he'll do it just to feel your pussy squeezing and warming his cock.

-Grubbing without penetration: Sang woo loves when you grind on his cock when he's in your underwear or even when he's naked and you grind on his shaft without letting him enter you.

-Sang woo loves to smother you: He becomes more possessive when he fucks you missionary and smothers you, you are even sexier for him.

-Sang woo loves to slap your ass until it turns red and has his marks on your butt. It's a sadistic kink of his, it makes him feel more possessive towards you.

-Sang woo likes it when you are obedient and be his good girl, it makes him even hornier and possessive.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

ANYTIME, ANYWHERE: Sang woo doesn't care if they can see you, he needs you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just looking at you, Sang woo might get excited. He goes crazy when he smells his perfume, or you give him sweet kisses or when you act naive.

N = Nickname (as he calls you)

He has many nicknames for you but his favorites are definitely: princess, kitten and darling.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers both giving and receiving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sang woo is rough, he loves to be rough and fuck you hard until you scream.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves quickies very much, he would do them anywhere.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves the risk, it excites him even more especially because you don't know how to keep your moans silent.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It has enough stamina to last all night.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud but his expression and when he grunts and growls will let you know that he's really enjoying it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It's big enough to give you pleasure.

[theyluvpeach]

too high to care.

you and chris smoke together, stuff ensues. client!chris x dealer!reader blurb!!

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: not connected to your vibes are off. sub!chris... you saw this coming. softdom! reader. bj. praise. use of ma. thas it :)

He's so screwed. The only reason he's in your apartment is because Matt said he was busy, so you extended his invitation onto him. He just wanted to relax a little bit is all, but as he stepped foot into your apartment, he remembered even though that you annoy him you're hot as hell.

How is he supposed to focus on you telling him what you're putting in the joint if your panties are peeking out from your shorts? They're pink with lace that he'd love to run his finger along—

"Chris!"

"Huh?"

"You're not even listening to me! I could be putting whatever in this."

"Nah. You're not evil enough for that." You roll your eyes. His heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest. He's so glad you didn't catch him staring.

Everything was going well. You guys passed the joint back and forth a few times, and surprisingly, you aren't someone who's super talkative when they're high. The most you did was stare at him from your side of the couch and giggle whenever he asked why you were staring.

"Chris?"

He looks to you. "You're pretty." You mumble. "You're high as fuck."

"I have a high tolerance." You say, slowly crawling towards him. It makes him gulp.

Your shift lifts off your chest, giving him the perfect view of your lacy pink bra— A matching set? Are you trying to kill him?

"Like... really pretty." You say, pausing your movements and stopping in front of him, just for a moment to stare at him, before you're settling in his lap.

His hands find themselves on your hips.

"Kid." Comes out weak and breathless. "Has someone ever called you pretty before?"

"...no." it'd be a whisper if you guys weren't so close. "I'll do it more often then." You say, moving to take off his hood, he stops you. "What are you doing?" He searches your eyes, trying to find an answer for all your actions.

"I wanna see something."

This time, he lets you take off his hood. You give him a smirk before you start running your hands through your hair. "What are you—"

"S all tangled....just let me." He shuts up quickly, flushing as you comb your hair hands through his hair. He flushes.

"Are you blushing?"

"Shut... shut up." It makes you giggle, making him even more embarrassed. He's not used to this, gentle treatment. It's different....a good different.

"Chris." You say, tilting his head to meet your gaze. "Wha-" is all Chris gets out before you're kissing him. Before your hands are slipping under his hoodie and touching his chest, he lets out a soft moan. He feels you smile against his lips.

You're both high, and even though you say you have a high tolerance, he doesn't know how much he believes you because of how red your eyes are. You guys shouldn't be doing this.

But, even then, he still lets you pull his hoodie over his head as he lets out soft pants. "So pretty, Chris." You mumble, shifting your position so you can kiss down his stomach.

His cock twitches in sweatpants. The praise, the kisses. Its too much for his brain to handle. "Mhn- wait— Kid—" He stutters out, grabbing your hair to make you look at him.

"Hey—" How is he supposed to resist you when your lips are jutted out, so dangerously close to the bludge in his sweatpants? "......you really want this, huh?"

"Wanna make you feel good." He bites his lip. He's imagined those words leaving your mouth so many times it's humiliating, "Do you want....?" You ask, tilting your head at him.

Of course he does. He nods. "Cmon. Use your big boy words."

".....want you to make me feel good." The way you smile at him makes him wanna cum right then and there. "Good boy." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

An embarrassing, needy whine escapes from his lips. He's turning to putty in your hands. You press a soft kiss to his bulge before slipping off the couch onto your knees, making him throw his head back.

"You're so pretty," He can't take the way you're cooing at him, the way you're looking at him with red, lust filled eyes. "So, so, pretty for me, baby." He hisses as his cock slaps against his stomach, finally being freed from his precum stained boxers.

This is all so new. He's never not been the one in control in the bedroom, but here he is. Letting out whimpers because you're calling him pretty.

His hand finds its way back into your hair as you press sloppily kisses up his length. "Y-you're killin' me here, kid—" When you finally make it to his tip, his hips buck against your mouth. He can't take this anymore. He's so hard it hurts.

"Please." He says, low and whiney. "Please?" You tease him. "Do anything, please, please."

You continue your taunting kisses, "I am." He squirms under your touch. "N-no— you're teasing me."

"I'm not," You say, completely letting go of his weeping cock. "You want me to get you off? Use your words." Chris looks at you with teary eyes.

"Suck me off, use your hands—God, do anything just make me cum, please? Please?" The smirk he receives is devilish. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

Chris whines. "Ma, please." You decide to take pity on him, stroking him. "Ah....go...d..." His eyes roll into the back of his head. "Feel good?" He moans loudly. "Y...yeah—"

When you take him into your mouth, he almost screams. "H-holy shit— Wai— wait—" He moans, grabbing at the couch cushions. You eye him, watching the way his face contorts in pleasure.

"If you keep— doing—t-that! M- m gonna cum—!" You hum around his cock, taking him deeper in your mouth. Before you pull off, watching his spit-slicked cock leak pre-cum. "Already?" You say, going back to stroking him.

The tears that pooled in his eyes, escape. You tilt your eyes at him. "You've never been treated like this...have you, Chris?"

"N....no." He chokes out, being interrupted by a loud moan. The way your eyes twinkle at his words makes him bite his cheek. "M gonna make you cum," He watches you press a kiss to his tip, again, as you stroke him. His hips buck against your lips. "But you gotta beg first."

Beg....? Beg? You want him to beg? Chris has never begged in his life. Saying please is one thing, begging on the other hand—

"No!" You stop stroking him. He whines at the loss. "C'mon, Pretty Boy. If you don't beg you're not gonna cum."

He hates you. He hates you so much. "I...please? Needa cum.... Been...been a good boy, haven't I?" He mumbles, his cheeks turning as red as cherry tomatos. He almost screams when you start stroking him again, "There ya go, Pretty."

"Cum— cum— I-I—" His eyes roll back into his head once more, "Gonna!"

You take him into your mouth again, and that's his last straw. "C-cumming!" You keep your lips wrapped around his cock until you're sure he's done cumming, it's a rough swallow.

You're sure if he came anymore, you would've started choking. You press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, and he pants looking at you with hazy eyes.

"You alright, Pretty?"

"I....shut.....mokay." He mutters. You stand up, "Gonna get you a towel n clean you up." He nods slowly before his eyes flutter shut.

He's asleep when you come back.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @dominiqueansel-blog @sosasturns

[voxslays]

can u do thanos’s reaction to pink hair? (preferably pastel) in or out of the games

BUBBLEGUM BITCH — THANOS

✮ With how vibrant your hair was, it was really no surprise how fast you caught the has-been rapper’s eye. Thanos was quite impressed with the color actually, having spent so much of his adult life with colored hair himself.

✮ While he considers pink to be a more girly color, he had considered dying his hair a fuchsia or pastel pink in his younger years. Thanos also admired your bravery, knowing how conservative the people of Seoul (and the rest of Korea) could be.

✮ Don’t get me wrong, Thanos one hundred percent likes his purple better. Yet, he finds that he can’t look away from your vibrant pink hair. So, during the ‘intermission’ before the first game, he introduces himself with one of his signature raps.

✮ After the first game, when you discover the truth about these seemingly innocent games—and the blood money you could win by killing all the other players—Thanos approaches you again, inviting you to join his team.

✮ During the six legged race, you play Ddakji, flipping the red paper square in one try—giving your team a much needed head start. You find yourself actually having fun with Thanos and the rest of your team. Maybe playing one more game wasn’t such a bad idea?

✮ But you would quickly take that mindset back once you played the first round of mingle. The other two games were based on skill, this one? It was more luck and alliances than anything. Sure, you trusted Thanos, but would that one alliance be enough to save you?

✮ No, it wasn’t. You had always had a bad feeling about Nam-gyu. He just rubbed you the wrong way. You knew you were wrong to trust him, or any of them. That was, until Thanos ran out of the room and picked you up.

✮ He carried you to one of the small rooms, a rede one, labeled number 32. He put you down and shut the door as soon as the timer ended. He had saved you. “Why?” You asked. Hadn’t he cared about Nam-gyu more?

✮ “I’m not letting you die that easily, Señorita.” He smirks, blood covering his face as he pulls you into a slow, sensual kiss. Maybe these games weren’t so bad. You two could conquer anything, couldn’t you? You were a good team.

[pissdrinker5000]

the first taste

a hamzah fic

warnings: smutty, kinda dom hamzah, fem reader, not proofread sry for any typos!!

(there was actually a whole part 1 to this but it did not save so heres the pt 2.. sry if there are references from pt 1.. just use ur imagination ig)

You both sit on Hamzahs couch, watching the show he begged you to watch with him, swearing he's going to put you on despite it not being a genre you typically enjoy. Red and Blue lounge on the couch next to Hamzah. After what feels like hours, but is really only halfway through one episode, Hamzah does the classic move, yawning and putting one arm around your shoulder. You shift a bit closer to him, your thighs now pressed against one another's. Your hearts are both racing, and you can't bring yourself to look at him, despite your desire to trace your gaze along his lips and his black curls again.

Hamzah suddenly breaks the tension, as if it was physically paining him not to, but he doesn't really know what to say. "Uh, you look really nice in that outfit."

Surprised, you look down as if you forgot you even had a physical body. And truthfully, you had been so preoccupied thinking about him that you almost did forget. "Thank you. It was just whatever I could find," you lie. You didn't want him to know how much you agonized over picking an outfit this morning. "You look good, too."

He smiles at you, making eye contact for the first time in a while. "Nah, it's just a hoodie and some pants I had laying on the floor."

You both chuckle, knowing the other is lying about how much effort they put into simply getting dressed.

He leans closer to you. Your faces are now close enough that you feel each other's breathing. Your eyes travel from his eyes to his lips. His breath stifles when he notices.

It feels like everything around you has dissolved, and all you can think about is bringing your lips to his. Closing that gap. You're far too nervous to make such a move, though. You try to look away in an attempt to break the tension, but Hamzah lifts his left hand to your face. You feel your skin melt against his touch. His hands are warm and surprisingly soft. He gently nudges your face back to look at him.

You can see the hesitation is his eyes, nervous to mess up what you two have. He leans even closer but stops right before your lips touch, looking up at you for reassurance. You try to tell him with just your eyes how badly you want this, and he somehow gets the message.

He leans in completely, your lips melting together as if they have been longing for each other your entire lives. His kiss is desperate, needy. He pulls away for a second to look into your eyes, and you smile each other before leaning back in, this time more desperate than the first. You place your hand on the back of his head, intertwining your fingers between his thick curls. His hand that was once on your cheek travels down to your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

His other hand makes its way to behind your ear, deepening the kiss. You have never moved this fast with anyone before, but you're filled with an overwhelming desire to explore his entire body. Your imagination races thinking about what he's hiding under those baggy clothes. His left hand sneaks underneath your cardigan and plays with the hem of your top. You twitch slightly at the feeling of his touch on your bare skin, and you accidentally let out a soft noise. He takes this as a sign to kiss you harder than you thought was possible, as you were already extremely close.

Your bodies get hotter, sweat starting to form, and you feel suffocated by the layers you're wearing. You pull back from the kiss to take off your cardigan, and Hamzah takes the opportunity to remove his hoodie, revealing a t-shirt with a stupid ironic saying on it. You crack a smile as you read it before he places both of his hands on your waist and pulls you back towards him to kiss you. This time closer than before. You can feel his bulge harden as your weight pushes down on it. This makes him let out a small groan. His hands become even more desperate, traveling down to your thighs. He grips your upper thigh, unable to hide his desire to be closer to you.

"Hamzah..." You let out in a soft whine.

He pulls back to ask, "Is everything okay?"

You nod your head, not breaking eye contact. "Perfect." You smile and lean in to kiss him again, but are surprised by him laying you down on the couch and positioning himself on top of you.

He looks so hot leaning above you like this, and you can't help but squirm underneath him, your pussy practically begging for him to be inside you.

"You're so beautiful," he remarks. "I knew since the moment I saw you that I'd be obsessed with you." His voice is low and soft. You become aware of the wet mess happening in your undies.

He uses his right hand to cup your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, while his left hand travels to your chest. You squirm and let out a soft, desperate moan as his fingers graze your nipple. Your lips collide once again, your tongues clashing inside each other's mouths. You move your hands to the waistband of his pants, sliding your fingers inside the seam. His hips buckle at the sensation, and he lets out a deep groan into your mouth, refusing to break the kiss. He lets his weight fall on top of you, your crotches pushing against each other needily. "Fuck," he groans.

You push him up and move your hands to the button on his pants, waiting for reassurance before you go any further. "Keep going," he breathes. "Please." You unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, feeling his length fill up the space that has now opened up. He quickly starts to do the same for your pants, pulling them off as fast as he can, then assisting you with taking off his own. He pulls away from the kiss to admire your now exposed thighs and panties. He licks his lips as he moves his hands down your thighs and places a thumb on your pussy, feeling how wet you are for him. You moan and thrust your hips into his hand, almost involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feeling of him touching you so gently. He grins. Knowing how badly you want him, he's filled with confidence.

You notice the shift from hungry to insatiable, but you don't have long to think about it before he is back to work, kissing you again, moving one hand to grip your tit while the other presses harder into your crotch. Your moans become louder as he handles your body with an increasing confidence. "You're so hot... Where have you been my whole life?" He whispers to you while placing hungry kisses on your neck.

His thumb begins to pull down your panties, and he starts to finger you with his middle and ring finger, using the others to spread your pussy open for easy access. You start to respond to his question, but he shoves his fingers inside you, making you gasp. You forgot what you were even going to say, and all you can muster is a stifled, "Fuck, you're so good," through loud moans.

He thrusts his fingers in an out at the perfect rhythm, making you desperate for more. You move your hands to the waistband of his underwear, but he moves them away, not letting you pull them off. "Wait here, okay?" He says as he leans upright and begins to walk to his room. You wait patiently, listening to him shuffle around, opening and closing drawers. He comes out with a condom in a blue foil package between his fingers. "You okay with this?" He asks, making sure he didn't misread any cues. You nod enthusiastically, smiling up at him. The lighting in his apartment, or maybe it's just your angle, illuminates his muscles. You can't help but stare at his arms as he removes the condom from its wrapper and pulls it onto his length.

He climbs on top of you again and leans down to kiss you. His kiss is just as hungry as before, but with a note of satisfaction that he is finally able to do what he's been waiting for. Finally able to show you what it's like to get fucked by him. Finally able to have his way with your body, like he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't expect to fall in love with anyone any time soon, but now that he knows you, he can't imagine how he got through life without you for so long.

He rubs his dick along your clit, savoring the feeling of your wet pussy. "You're so wet," he remarks in a low grumble.

Your head feels dizzy with desire, and you moan at his touch. "Just fuck me already," you plead, unable to contain your desperation for him. He follows your instruction, slowly pushing his thick cock into your pussy, making you gasp in a whiny moan.

He smirks at the reaction he is able to get from you, and places his hand on your jaw as he thrusts in and out of your tight pussy. He moves his thumb over your mouth, gesturing for you to open. "Such a pretty girl. You're so good," he praises you as you open your mouth and start sucking on his thumb. He pushes it deep into your throat. "You take it so well, love. I'm impressed."

You melt hearing him call you "love." He thrusts into your pussy deeper and harder. "Let's see just how much you can take, huh?" He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with a kiss, before gripping your waist to hold your body steady.

[loves0phelia]

Red And Blue

Summery: His canon event.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: kinda gore at one point nothing too crazy, grammar mistakes.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the amount of mistakes this probably has but i cant be bothered to care more i just want to get this fic out. Listen to my tears ricochet as you read

Rafe had always been good at hiding things. He kept his head down, stayed out of the spotlight, and made sure no one looked too closely. But ever since the bite, since the powers, since the responsibility that came with it, lying had become second nature.

Especially to you.

It killed him, really. Every time he bailed on a movie night, ignored your texts, or showed up bruised and breathless with a half-baked excuse, he saw the confused and hurt look in your eyes. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? That he was ditching every time to swing across rooftops, and fight criminals? No. That wasn’t an option.

Tonight was no different.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” You leaned your head down, phone pressed against your ear, voice sharp with frustration. “You're leaving me again. You promised this time. I know you don't like school events but just once please”

“I'm sorry” he muttered, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Something came up.”

“Something always comes up. What is it this time? And don’t tell me it's homework or family stuff, because I know when you’re lying.” 

“I just…” He exhaled, as if a weight was pressing on his chest. “I can’t tell you, okay?” He swallowed hard.

Silence. At first he thought you hung up but he could still hear a faint shuffling from the other end of the phone call.

The silence was somehow worse than you cursing him out for bailing.

“Why not? I thought we told each other everything.” your voice was softer this time, more fragile

God, how badly he wanted to. He wanted to tell you about the fights, the injuries he had to patch up alone, the weight of trying to be a hero when all he wanted was to be a normal guy. But if he told you he'd put you into too much risk.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he did what he always did.

He lied.

“I just need you to trust me,” he said even if his chest ached. “Please.”

You thought for a long moment, then shook your head with a sad smile even if he couldn't see you. “You say that like I don’t already.”

And that hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken.

Because he knew he was running out of chances. The more he lied the more it felt like you were walking away.

“Welp” you said, popping the P, as if trying to lighten up the mood, before taking a small pause. “I'm already half ready and Gwen really wants us to go to the party so if you change your mind just call me?”

"Okay," he whispered into the phone.

"Bye, Rafe." The call ended with a soft beep, leaving him alone with the silence. 

“i suck” He let out a heavy sigh, groaning as he flopped onto his bed. The mask, half-folded over his face, slipped down, unfolding on its own. It rested against his nose—a quiet, relentless reminder of the responsibilities he has over the city.

"Heyyyy!" Gwen called out, sprinting toward you from the front steps of the school, where she had been waiting. Her face lit up the moment she spotted you approaching.

You hesitated, glancing at the building behind her, you could hear music thumping from inside. 

“Rafe is not with you?” she asked, looking around you thinking she might have missed him.

“No, you know how he is. He bailed again” you sighed.

“What is his problem?” She didn't wait for an answer and continued, “you know what? let's forget about him and just have fun” she looped her arm with yours and instantly began dragging you.

The homecoming party was in full swing, music pounding against the walls, and laughter echoed through the gym where it took place. It reeked of sweat, and the floor was already sticky as if someone had dropped bottles of juice on the floor and honestly if Rafe was here you would have begged him to leave with you already.

You tried to enjoy the moment, despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You clutched a red Solo cup filled with non alcoholic fruit punch, swirling the liquid mindlessly. You knew you’d only take a few sips—just enough to look like you were part of the fun.

Beside you, Gwen nudged your arm with a playful grin. “Come on, loosen up a little! It's homecoming, not a funeral.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? This just isn’t really my scene.”

 “You mean you don’t love being crammed in a gym full of sweaty high schoolers who haven't  learned what deodorant is yet, with music so loud it could cause permanent hearing damage?” Gwen dramatically gasped.

“Shocking, right?” You smirked.

“Alright, no excuses. One dance. Then I’ll let you go back to brooding in the corner with your untouched fruit punch.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the dance floor

You sighed but let her drag you along anyway , attempting to let go of the tension in your chest just for a few minutes.

But it didn't last long. 

A single phone rang loudly, cutting through the music—then another, and another, until the entire gym was filled with the sound of alerts. Conversations stopped, and a wave of confusion swept through the crowd as people scrambled to check their phones. Those who had left theirs at home leaned over shoulders, desperate to see what was happening.

It was an emergency alert.

A link attached to the notification led to a live report from a hovering news helicopter. The shaky footage showed Spider-Man in a brutal fight with something massive—a creature that towered over him. Gasps and murmurs spread through the party as people recognized what they were seeing.

Another lizard.

New York had seen its fair share of Dr. Curt Connors copycats, but this one was different. It was bigger—almost dinosaur-sized; its scaly skin was reflecting the city lights as it tore through the streets. The ground seemed to shake even through the screen.

“This… this one’s huge,” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the growing panic.

The realization hit all at once. This wasn’t just another mad scientist playing with forbidden experiments and  chemicals. This was something worse. And it was heading straight for the school.

The battle outside was relentless. The massive Lizard roared, its tail whipping through the air, sending cars flying like toys that weighed nothing. Rafe gritted his teeth, webbing up debris and yanking himself through the air to keep up with the monster’s destructive path.

Every web he shot was torn apart and all his strength did nothing against the creature. Rafe's body ached, exhaustion creeping in faster than he wanted to admit. The Lizard was too strong, too fast, and it was pushing forward, heading straight toward the school. Toward you.

He forced himself to move, barely dodging a swipe of the creature’s paws. His vision blurred for a moment, his limbs trembling. His suit was torn. He was too weak. He wasn’t going to make it.  

Then he saw it. In that small moment of hesitation, that single breath he allowed himself to take, the monster had surged forward. Its massive feet slammed into the school celling, reducing the entrance to ashes. Dust and debris shot into the air as the walls groaned under its weight. His chest tightened—he had wasted precious seconds

A deafening explosion sent shockwaves through the school, knocking people off their feet. walls shattered, dust lifted in the air, screams filled the gym, all the lights were shut off putting the school in full black out and the once-lively party descended into chaos.

Everyone was running frantically, The entire building shook as you all felt the creature getting closer seeking destruction. All you could hear was the scream of people desperately trying to find an exit. 

“We have to go!” Gwen took your hand and began running but there was nowhere to run, the school was falling piece by piece.

The next thing you knew, the Lizard’s massive paw tore through the ceiling, debris raining down. Screams got louder and louder. It wasn’t just destroying the building—it was tearing apart anything in its path.

Even students.

You barely had time to process the horror unfolding before your eyes. The sickening sound of ripping metal, the desperate cries for help—it was too much. You wanted to run, to do something, but your body felt frozen in place, paralyzed by terror.

And then you saw it.

A lifeless hand, limp beneath the rubble. A shoe that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Blood smeared across the floor where moments earlier, there had been laughter.

Your breath hitched, your chest was tightening with a grief so sharp it felt like it might crush you. This wasn’t just destruction. It was a massacre..

You barely had time to process  it before a chunk of debris came crashing down—right toward you and a figure dressed in red and blue dropped from the ceiling and came at you as fast as light could travel.

In a blur of motion, you were flying through the air, held tightly against a strong chest. 

“You need to go!”  Spiderman yelled as soon as he dropped you back on your feet. But you couldn't hear him over the roars and the screams.

Before you could respond, a violent force knocked you both apart. You tumbled across the floor, the wind knocked from your lungs and the monster hovered over you. 

Spider-Man lunged, webbing the creature’s face and yanking it backward. “Run!” he shouted at you, desperation in his tone. He fought with everything he had, flipping, dodging, striking with all the strength he could collect. But the Lizard was relentless.

Then, in the chaos, you tried to run—but the Lizard’s tail lashed out, striking you hard. The sound of impact was harsh. You hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“No!” Rafe’s voice cracked, Something inside him snapped. Rage flooded his veins, and every ache, every ounce of exhaustion vanished.

With a furious roar, he attacked. His punches came harder, his movements faster. He webbed the Lizard’s limbs, yanking it into the ground with a force that shattered concrete. He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. Not after what had just happened.

Finally, with one last web the monster was tied to the floor unmoving and unconscious, the host of the lizard and succumbed.

But none of it mattered.

Rafe stumbled toward you, collapsing beside you before pulling his mask up to truly see you.

 “No, no, no—come on” he pleaded, his hands lifted your head up and he felt the liquid pouring out of the large gash behind your head. His blood stained hands trembled as he brushed the hair from your face, his vision blurred with tears. “Please, Y/n—”

Your eyes fluttered open slightly, breathing shallow. A weak, bittersweet smile ghosted your lips. “I always knew,” you whispered. “I always knew it was you.”

Rafe froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I just… wished you told me,” You murmured, fingers barely gripping his suit. “I still would’ve… loved you.”

Tears streamed down his face. “No, don’t—don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. I promise, I—”

But you exhaled one last breath, your hand slipping from his suit. Your body went still.

“Please, no. i love you” he lifted your body further into his as if his warmth could bring you back but it didn't.

And after that moment the canon remained intact.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Into my arms

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Masterlist Word count: 773 Sylus x Reader

Summary: Sylus likes telling you about music. You like Sylus's voice.

Author's note: I felt like we all needed a tiny little bit of fluff after seeing those banners.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

He's been yapping for a while now. All the while, sweet sounds play from his record player. Every once in a while he gets up to put on a different record, but he seems to be sitting down a little closer to you each time.

Tension is rising, yet Sylus pretends he's unaffected. You are not pretending, you couldn't if you tried. It feels like your hands are itching to touch him, but you know this is important to him.

This is one of the ways he shows affection. He wants you to know what he likes and he wants input on what you like. His collection is extensive and strange. It goes from Tom Waits to The Beach Boys. From The Cure to Dolly Parton. From Metallica to Jim Croce. Surprisingly, he has something to tell about almost all of them.

He tells you about the differences between The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. About how The Beatles had a good boy image whilst being from rough backgrounds, while The Rolling Stones were from privileged lives and had a bad boy image. He tells you about David Bowie's album Lazarus, a testament to his own body failing and approaching death. He tells you about all the songs mentioned in Hozier's Sweet Music. And about how most people know Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds from the song Red Right Hand while he considers Into My Arms, a raw testament to love and believing in that deity only to ask it to bring his lover to him, a much better song.

Talks on and on about all these beautiful words strung together, about the instruments, about the quality of the recording. You love to listen to him. Love to hear him talk about these things that he seems so passionate about, but he has barely scratched the surface.

All the obscurer things he loves to listen to sneak their way into these moments every once in a while, but still he tends to go for love songs when you're around.

He sits down next to you after changing the record again and looks over into your tired eyes. The night owl that he is, he hadn't considered it is your bedtime already. 'Are you tired, sweetie? We can go to bed.'

You shake your head and position yourself onto his lap with one swift movement, your hands gently laying on his chest. Like two pieces of the puzzle, his hands slot against your hips as he looks up at you like he's looking into a fire. The forever changing warmth of your love enveloping him.

'Keep talking,' you tell him. He nods and starts talking about the record he just put on whilst his thumbs gently rub over the fabric of your bottoms. A song from Jim Croce that almost sounds like a lullaby. Time in a Bottle.

His words intertwine with the music like a baseline. You feel his voice rumble in his chest under your fingertips and move yourself closer to feel it in your own chest. Your arms wrap around him as you lean your head on his shoulder.

Slowly, the combination of sound and vibration lulls you closer and closer to sleep. Your mind gets carried on his sentences, gently floating around. Every once in a while, you hum to let him know you're still listening, but he can feel your breathing slow.

'Let's go to bed. I'm getting tired,' he states, more so for you than for him. But, truth be told, he has been sleeping exceptionally well ever since he's started sleeping in your arms. He stands up with you in his arms, clinging to his body like a koala.

'No,' you grumble, not really noticing he's gotten up, 'keep talking. I like hearing you talk.'

'Alright,' he agrees with a smile and he does.

As he carries you into the bedroom he tells you about all the love songs that remind him of you, all the lyrics that to him feel like they were written about you, all the guitar solos and music breaks in songs that make him feel like you are right there with him...

and he keeps talking until he snuggles up to you under the covers. He takes a few seconds to listen to your gentle breathing. He lays his head on your chest, the thumping of your heartbeat relaxing him like nothing else ever has. You have fallen asleep, and that seems the perfect time for a confession to him.

'But besides all of that, my favorite song is the sound of your voice when you greet me in the morning.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BREATHPLAY

ex!leon kennedy x fem!reader

notes: this year has been a lot so far LOL but part of this fic is based on my meditations after a breakup from a long term relationship so enjoy. descriptions of a rocky relationship, maybe a makeup? drunk sex (both lol), sub!leon and dom!reader, some religious tones. also shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for safe when i fall i think i got inspired by that one :).

Leon and you never really meshed. Rough edges against other rough edges doesn’t mean sanding down so you’ll fit together nicely.

He’s uniquely good at pissing you off. He leaves the toilet seat up (you put it down), he doesn’t like cooking (“I have cereal,” he says, but muscles like those in his arms don’t live off cereal), he refuses to leave his shoes by the door and tracks in mud/dirt/snow/slush/leaves on the floor and your heart (no matter how many times you make him mop up his mess), he’s contrarian for the sake of having something to argue about (read: talk about).

Sheepish schoolboy through and through, no matter how old or grizzled he gets.

The one thing you two could agree on was always the bedroom, he was much easier to bear when he just shut the fuck up for once and put his mouth to better uses. He was always happy to worship at your altar, anyway.

You, oh, you. Leon loves you to bits, you’re his favorite mule. On one hand, stubbornness got you almost everything you wanted, him included. On the other, you’re almost impossible to deal with when you get in a certain way.

Leon likes to feel manly every once in a while, you know?

You also don’t tell him when you’re pissed, you just shut the hell up and shut him out until you’re ready to talk to him, practically scrubbing the dishes until the nonstick coating comes off.

Something you two implicitly agreed on was to hang on—and, boy, was that a mistake. People always say that you should stick it out, a rough patch is just that, you’ll come out stronger together.

What they don’t tell you is that some things are past the salvageable point and it’s better to know when to quit.

There was a lot of yelling that night before Leon packed up his shit and finally left.

You’d had a while of peace, it felt good, organic even, to get Leon out of your system in all the ways that could be meant.

Story of your fucking life that nobody else could get you off the way Leon can. It doesn’t even come down to skill, it just comes down to good old capacity to give a shit—but that’s what you get when you fuck a guy or three after your ex, who you were with for a handful of years, who had the opportunity to learn what makes you break open.

To you, this breakup felt like swimming to the surface after a few years under water.

Leon had the opposite sort of idea. He didn’t want to touch anyone else, he didn’t want to look at any other woman but you. He deleted your nudes off his phone in a drunken haze, so it’s only memories that get him off when he’s drunk—that is, if whiskey dick hasn’t struck him yet again.

(Another one of your complaints.)

Every time you said you’d go to your friends, they discouraged you from ever talking to him again. They went so far as to take your phone and change the contact name to DON’T EVER FUCKING CALL, changing the profile picture from Leon giving you bunny ears in a mirror selfie to a red stop sign.

You kinda miss Leon the way you miss a bruise, pressing on it a little longer for the hurt and for it to stay. Oh, the love was there too, and you two still yelled at one another or gave the silent treatment until someone (him) broke, walking to you on his knees.

Half a year goes by without you thinking about Leon as much as you could perhaps be. You came real close to breaking after about month two without freshly mopped floors because someone was so excited to be home with you that he forgot to take off his shoes, your friends saved you at the last second.

Month seven is when things get a little rocky. Spring’s coming again, even if the ground’s a little frosty still. Leon texts you first around eleven-fifty at night, when you’re scrolling on your phone in bed.

Hey.

What the fuck? You have to stare at the screen unseeingly for a moment, then blink, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again to a simple greeting. You can almost imagine the tone he’s taking—he takes that one with you after he starts an argument with you just to talk to you about something.

God, back. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

Oh, hell. He’s texting.

I miss you.

Fuck.

Sluggish thumbs pause and hover over the screen.

Do you?

Like a limb. Is his immediate response. The next, a blurry pic of him raking his hand through his hair, gold chain glinting in the flash.

Christ on a cracker.

You can almost feel the chain in your hand the longer you look at it. The pleasantly surprised look on Leon’s face when you first grabbed the chain to carefully tug him closer is still burned in your mind, that’s what gets you off some days. Well, that and the other things you two did.

Come over? Startles you out of your reverie. Baby Christ in the manger with the sheep. Is this really you? Are you the type of bitch to go back to your ex, even for a night? Would future you be disappointed?

Yeah. Be there in ten. Future you is gonna be well-dicked, if and when she beats you up about this.

All Leon sends is his address as you kick off the covers and dress hurriedly, practically running out of your apartment.

You got there in seven. You take care to look nonchalant as you get out of your car, shutting it with a hip and locking it. You shove your keys into your pocket and scope out the apartment numbers as you get up onto the curb, then the sidewalk.

Your foot skids on a stair and you curse, glad you had a hand on the railing as you pause before continuing your ascension.

You barely finish knocking before the door opens, Lazarus fresh from the tomb in all his disheveled glory before you. Your heart’s in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Leon twists to the side, allowing you in.

Talk about a bachelor pad. You scope out the place as you toe off your shoes, leaned halfway against the wall.

TV’s on, he’s watching something. There’s vodka bottles littering the coffee table and only one light on in a corner of the room.

The door latches behind you and Leon stifles a hiccup into a fist. “You got here quick.” He says, sidestepping you fluidly and going over to the couch. He sits back down, swallowing some more vodka.

Your face goes hot. “I was overcompensating to not fall asleep at the wheel.” You shrug off your jacket, revealing your baggy shirt. There’s nowhere to hang it, so you drop it on the floor and walk over to the couch, plopping down. Ew, it’s pleather.

Leon snorts into his drink and you try not to gawk at his biceps. “Right.” He agrees solemnly, swallowing a little more vodka before he gets up, getting you a tumbler. He looks fucking delicious. “One or two.”

You hate straight vodka. “One.” Why the fuck not? That’s the flinch, isn’t it?

Leon pours you a shot and clinks your glasses together, passing it to you with his finger inside the rim.

You down it without tasting it, and so does he. You lean forward and pour another, swallowing it down with a burn lingering in your nose. When you have about four shots in your system, Leon speaks up.

“You know, people were right when they said that love is not enough.” He muses, swirling his glass around. Some sloshes over his hand and he slurps it up loudly. “Wasn’t for us.”

Your tongue feels heavy. Despite that, you don’t disagree.

When you’re silent for a little while, buzzed mind attempting to work, he scoffs. “Stop clamming up. It’s me.”

“That’s why I’m clamming up.” You snap after a moment, offense cutting through your buzz. “Because it’s you.”

Leon looks a little less pleased, pink mouth twisting and dipping at the corners. He downs a shot and pours another. You follow, plucking at your shirt to cool down as you sit back against the pleather upholstery.

“We were good, though, right?”

You watch the light play off his face, the blue light and shadows sharpening his features. “Sometimes.” You muster after a while, looking down at your shot glass. “When it was bad, it was bad.”

“Rough patches.” Leon mutters back, though he doesn’t seem to really agree. He sets his empty shot glass on the coffee table and sits back, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he watches the muted TV.

That v-line, he always made such pretty noises when you got to that. “Seems like the patches were the relationship.” You take another shot.

Leon shrugs without looking at you. Prick.

Another shot, more silence before you break it, feeling hot all over. “Did you call me over just to drink?”

Leon’s eyes flick over to you, skating over your features. He loved you, maybe. Loves? “Not really.”

Right. You always come when called.

“I just needed you close to me. Even for a moment.” He admits, eyes dropping from the TV to the coffee table.

He stinks of vodka and sweat when you crawl into his lap, ultraviolet eyes flashing wide for a moment before his hands settle on your hips, thumbs swiping over your bunny pajama pants. Muscle memory.

“You know what they say.” You lean in, eyes flicking between his eyes and his mouth, “Drunk words—“

“Are sober thoughts.” Leon finishes for you, chin tipping up as his eyes lid halfway. “You really are a broken record.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will.” Leon tastes like vodka and iron when he closes the distance between you, his lips slightly chapped. Nervous habit of his, he bites his lips.

It’s a little like being able to breathe. Maybe. It just feels really fucking good.

Leon pulls off your pants somehow, landing a smack to your ass to see the offended look you give him. You scratch him a little in return when you tug down his pants, he turns redder than his alcohol flush and dick jumping behind his boxers.

“Missed these most, fuckin’ hell.” Leon squeezes your tits when he gets your shirt off, leaving a kiss on the right side.

“Did mommy not breastfeed you?” You mock him as you tug his boxers down, rising up on your knees as he leaves you to struggle with his clothes. That vodka left you a little wetter than usual, it seems.

Leon leaves a half-gentle bite and you hiss, digging your nails into his thigh. “Dunno—“ You cut him off with a slow descent, back straightening as you hold in what could be a very incriminating noise. “You wanna try?” He says behind gritted teeth, eyes falling shut with a relieved expression.

You give a strained scoff, digging your nose into his cheek as you lace your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

Leon whines behind a closed mouth, pressing his cheek against yours as his hands wander up and down your sides. You get to watch his eyes roll back when you lace your fingers in his hair and tug. His blunt nails dig into your skin, another louder whine leaving him.

Hitting all his weak spots coupled with the first time with you in a few months has him hurtling over the edge sooner than expected. Honestly, you too.

“In?” Leon pants, eyes opening behind his sweaty bangs, hips jumping to meet yours midway. “Out? How do you want me?”

Thank God, your thighs are beginning to burn. “In.” You leave a wet kiss on his cheek, reaching down with your other hand to fumble with your clit.

He comes right before you do, a pathetic sounding whine leaving him as he spills inside you. You collapse against him, panting for breath and sated in a way you haven’t been for a while.

While you collect yourselves and your dignity, Leon’s hands keep moving up and down your back and sides, soft puffs of breath blowing your hair.

It’s dead silent in the apartment, save only for your breaths. Sweat sticks you two together, you grimace as you peel yourself off him, flopping off to his side and making a mess (what a waste).

Silence reigns for a while longer as you pick at Leon’s fake leather upholstery, a million and one things on your mind. “We can’t be friends.” You mutter after a while.

Leon watches you, sweaty hair sticking up at every angle. “No.” He agrees after a silent moment, not bothering to slap your hand away as you keep picking at his fake leather couch. “I don’t think we ever could be.”

You shake your head, eyes on the patchy upholstery. “And we aren’t lovers.”

Leon shoves his hand beneath yours and holds it so you stop picking at the upholstery. “We could be.”

“Maybe.” But you know him and his soft heart. Beneath it, your heart’s soft too. “We’ll fight, though.”

Leon’s finger runs across your palm. “I like our fights.”

You close and open your hand around his finger. “And we only ever seem to communicate when you’re inside me.”

Leon shrugs. “We should just be physical.”

Round and round in circles we go.

[ranhaitanisbitch]

movie night with mammon

-mammon x gn!reader

cw: just sweet

synopsis: mammon invited you over for a movie marathon

a/n: hope you like it! i feel like i should make a part two of this. i'm open to suggestions, requests for other one-shots and constructive criticism. don't hesitate to reach out ^_^

word count: about 900

Mammon doesn't remember the last time his room had looked this clean. He had spent the whole afternoon picking up clothes from the floor, sorting stuff, cleaning the floor and doing stuff he had never done before. Absurd stuff like wiping the back of his bed's headboard. He knows nobody cares about the back of his headboard, but somehow he has the urge to have everything in perfect condition. After all you are coming over. Maybe he was doing too much, but he wants to impress you. Yesterday Mammon found out you had never seen a single Harrison Porter movie in your life, so of course, being the fan he was, he invited you over to a Harrison Porter movie marathon. He was excited to say the least. It's not like you had never been to his room before, but this felt more like a date than a casual movie night.

Wait- did you think of this as a date too? Or was this really just a movie night between friends for you? Of course Mammon didn't actually call it a date when he had invited you over. If he remembers correctly he said something along the lines of, "Of course a mere human wouldn't know about  stuff like that. Let the great Mammon show ya some good stuff". You had rolled your eyes at that, but you had agreed. 

Mammon takes a last look around his room and suddenly feels a nervous feeling taking over. What if you actually did see this as a normal hangout between friends and thought the cleanliness of his room was suspicious... Mammon usually never cleans his room to this extent and you know that. He opens his laundry basket and throws a singular dirty sock in the middle of the room. There, casual atmosphere restored. Now that this problem is taken care of, all he has to do is wait for you. 

There's an anxious tingle in Mammon's chest when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door. "Come in!", he shouts and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. As he hears your feet shuffle along the floor he turns around to face you and immediately regrets it. You're already wearing your pajamas which consist of only a tanktop and some shorts. The demon blushes and turns around again hoping you haven't noticed the red color that is now tinting his cheeks. “I brought some snacks”, you smile and sit down on the couch right next to Mammon. “Yeah, yeah… put ‘em on the table”, the demon tries to appear as nonchalant as possible, which seems to be impossible with you so close to him. Your legs aren’t even touching, but he can still feel the heat coming from your thigh next to his and he has to resist the urge to reach out and feel some more of your body heat. He decides to start the movie instead. 

A few minutes into the movie you try to get more comfortable on the couch and shift around. You end up half laying half sitting leaning on Mammon’s shoulder. What you don’t seem to notice is his breathing becoming slightly uneven while he tries to hide the fact that he is getting excited. “Damn clingy human”, is all he mutters as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him even more.

By the third movie the demon notices you getting tired when your eyelids keep falling shut. You desperately try to keep them open and pay attention since you know how much Mammon loves those movies, but the more you try to fight it the sleepier you get. You’re so focused on pleasing Mammon that you don’t even notice that he hasn’t been paying attention to the movie himself. Not one second. The only thing that occupies his mind is you, how good your body feels pressed to his and how cute you look as you try not to fall asleep. The whole duration of the three movies he sneaked secret glances at you and admired your reactions to the scenes instead of watching them himself. He gently nudges you, “hey… it’s time to go to bed.” You whine. “But we haven’t even finished the third movie yet.” Mammon chuckles at your sleepy whines. “It’s okay. We can watch it another time.” That means you two will have some more movie nights, Mammon thinks with a giddy smile. “You should really head to bed now. You can barely keep your eyes open.” You groan in annoyance, but get up anyway. The demon already expects you to head to the door when you suddenly plop down on his bed. Even though he had wished for you to stay, he expected you to head back to your room after the movie marathon since it was only down the hall. Now he thanks whoever had heard his prayer and granted him his wish. “Mammooon! I’m cold”, you whine and pull him down on the bed with you. He smiles and lets you cling to his torso like a sloth. After a few minutes your breathing becomes more even and Mammon is sure you’ve fallen asleep. He kisses the top of your head gently, “good night, human.”

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter three

⭐︎ You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comofort (I guess?), mentions of death, grief, grumpy/mean!Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve allows you to see a glimpse of who he really is, and not only do you get that, you also find out some sad truths.

Word count: 12.1k

Author's note: One of the chapters I was excited for the most was this one, you'll know why when you read it hehe. @hellfire--cult worked on this one with me, and she added a lot (don't listen to her when she will say she didn't, cause she did !) give her some love (or all of it cause she deserves it ♡)

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

Steam fogs the mirror in the bathroom, drops of water fall from your hair and down your shoulders, the smell of vanilla and lavender lingers in the room, you are rubbing moisturizer into your skin, enjoying the luxury of it all, a luxury you won’t have much longer the moment you are back on the road again. It’s impossible to find functioning showers nowadays, let alone hot running water. Something that used to be so normal, is something special now and you enjoy every second here in Hawkins, every hot shower, every good night’s sleep, every warm meal, the feeling of safety. 

You put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater to keep you warm, a pair of wool socks that Nancy knitted herself. You brush your wet hair and clip it back. 

When you step out into the hallway, silence greets you. Eddie is in his room, he was complaining about a headache after you finished patrolling together after he worked on the RV all morning, you both got caught in the rain and after taking a shower to warm up, he excused himself to lie down. The door to Nancy’s bedroom is closed as well, she must be reading, she always closes the door when she does. The rainy weather allows you all to take everything a bit slower, to rest a little more than usual. 

The wind howls outside, thunder striking somewhere far, red bolts of lightning curse through the sky, an image you still haven’t gotten used to. 

You make your way down the stairs, it isn’t dark out yet but the grey clouds make it seem like it’s evening already, the golden light from the fireplace in the living room is very inviting in contrast to the darkness outside. You step inside and notice Steve moving around in the kitchen, taking out bowls from the cardboard. A towel is slung over his shoulder, his features are relaxed, no sign of a frown appearing on his face… yet.

You watch him for a moment, not moving away or towards him. You don’t want to disturb him or his peace. He seems to be content by himself and you know that facial expression will change the moment he notices you. 

Things have been tense between you after your one and only time patrolling together. He didn’t ask you to join him in anything and you didn’t make the mistake of trailing after him again. You also didn’t make much more conversation with him and he seemed happy about it for he didn’t try either. The only interactions you both have are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, maybe a ‘can you pass me the salt’ or an ‘excuse me’ here and there but that’s all. 

It’s been eleven days since your arrival here, and you both are still where you started. It saddens you. You tried to get to know him, and you still want to but he makes it hard to.

Maybe if things had been different, you would have gotten the chance to get to know the Steve you have seen in the pictures Nancy had shown you. The guy he once was seemed sweet and welcoming, the one before you is the opposite of it. 

You know something must’ve happened to him. Maybe it’s got to do with the scars on his skin, maybe he lost someone you don’t know about, maybe it’s because of Robin but whatever it was that took away the light in his eyes has turned him into this – mistrusting and mean. 

A silent sigh falls from your lips, you force your eyes away from his form and turn away, ready to make your way back up the stairs but his voice makes you halt in your tracks. 

“Hey…”

A lump grows in your throat, a nervous feeling settles in your chest, you swallow and take a deep breath before you turn around, facing him again. 

He is looking right at you, an awkward attempt at a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Hi… I uh, Nancy and Eddie are in their rooms and I didn’t want to disrupt their peace but uh I also don’t want to disrupt yours so–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. “Would you like to help me?” 

You blink. 

Did you hear him correctly? 

He presses his palms against the counter, raising his eyebrows at you, like he waits for you to say yes. 

Steve notices your uncertainty, the knit between your brows, the pursed lips, the confused look in your eyes. You are pulling at your sleeves, looking a little lost, looking a little intimidated. You are not like this with Nancy and Eddie, you are comfortable with them – but not with him, and he can’t blame you for that.

“I could use a hand.”

You nod slowly, licking your lips, “yeah, I uh, sure!” 

You can’t help but feel a giddiness inside of you. He never asked you to join him before, he never asked for your help. 

“What do you need me to do?” You ask as you make your way over to him, standing across from him now, on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Butter for now.”

“Butter?” You tilt your head. 

He hates it when you do that, every time you ask a question, every time you are confused about something, you tilt your head to the side. 

“We received a ton of milk, but we have to make our own butters and cream,” he explains as he gestures to the cans of milk on the table. 

“Oh…”

“Wanna give me a hand? It’s a lot of stirring.”

You nod, following him to the small, round kitchen table. 

“Here,” he murmurs, gesturing to the wooden jar, “this is a butter churn.”

“This is what they look like?” 

Steve nods, “yeah, what’d you think they looked like?” 

You shrug, picking up the stick, “I dunno, this thing looks like something straight out of the 1500s.”

Steve snorts, “maybe it is, we found it in Miss Keller’s house, she’s basically from the 1500s with the dresses she always wore.”

You fake a gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth, “you stole Miss Keller’s butter churn? Bad Steve.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away, but you see the way his lips curl upwards, even if only a little. – A small victory on your part. 

“So… how do I use this thing?”

He pours some milk into the jar and takes the stick from your hands, putting inside the jar before he covers the sides with a towel so the milk doesn’t splatter over you both.

“Here, you just… do these motions,” he explains, twisting the stick from side to side as he raises it up and down slowly, “you churn it slowly, you don’t want the milk to get all over you, it may take some time until you see some progress, you just gotta be patient.” 

You hum, moving a little closer to him, invading his space, you smell his shampoo, his body wash, a hint of oranges and apricot, the sweet and soft scents surprise you, most men opt for masculine scents, strong and overpowering ones. You prefer this. You like this, you like this a little more than you should. You watch the way his hands move as he shows you the motions, you focus on his voice when he gives you the instructions and then you take over when he hands you the stick before he steps away from you rather quickly. 

Unbeknownst to you, he too liked the scent that lingers on your skin a little too much. The sweetness of it, the softness of your hand when it touched his own, the closeness and the heat of your body – he doesn’t like you, how could he? His body reacts to your scent, feminine and soft. It’s been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and you are the first to graze his skin, that’s all. He wouldn’t think anything of it, he wouldn’t react to it had there been other women around. 

To his surprise you stay quiet, focused on the task before you, you don’t speak or ask any questions for a while, it’s almost odd to him, you are talkative, never missing the opportunity to open your mouth and ramble about something completely random and unimportant. Then again, things have been tense between you both. He knows it’s his fault, he also knows that it’s for the better, yet he can’t help but dislike this silence right now, he doesn’t know why. 

He tries to focus on his own task, pouring milk into a pot to make cream. 

The crackle of the fire, and the sound from the butter churn fill the silence between you both. A few minutes pass before you finally speak up. 

“What are we using the butter for?” You ask, feeling the soreness in your wrist already.

“For the meat. I use it to make it tender. The meats are not as good now that the cows are not properly cared for. They’re just cows from the wild and the few from the barn here.” 

“Oh, so they don’t get all the needed supplements and stuff?” 

“Exactly,” Steve nods, reaching for a spatula, he starts stirring the milk, “I mean, we do our best but you know…”

You look over at him, surprised to find him looking back at you already, you didn’t realize his eyes were on you. You nod your head slowly, not moving your eyes away from his, you don’t break the contact just yet, looking into his hazel eyes that are always blazing with anger or annoyance, right now it’s neither of those emotions, it’s something else, something you can’t read, something you can’t make out, something you haven’t seen in his eyes yet, a look yet to be unlocked. 

He blinks, shaking his head, he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at your hand, “how does it look?” 

You breathe out and force your eyes away from his as well, you stop your movements and lift the towel off the jar, “uh, I think it’s solid now.” 

“Great, now pour it into the bowl,” he gestures to the bowl with the cheesecloth inside. 

You fall quiet again and follow his instructions, his voice fills the space between you as he gives you a step by step on what to do but when you’re as good as done, the silence between you is almost deafening, almost awkward, especially to him, the need to fill it is so strong. 

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk to you if not necessary, that he wouldn’t ask questions. He doesn’t want to know anything about you, he doesn’t need that in his life, but this moment right now is killing him. He is done cooking the cream, and he is now working on making dinner, cutting vegetables. He tries to distract himself with that but to no avail. 

He glances at you. It’s dark out now, the only source of light coming from the fireplace and all the candles set up because he likes to save up on electricity by keeping the lights off. The golden light touches your skin so softly, your hair shining from it, the smell of your body wash lingers in the room. You look relaxed, you look content despite being here with him. The sweater you are wearing is too big and it slipped down your shoulder from all the movements, exposing the scar that has formed on your shoulder. It was fresh when you came here, and he never found out how you got it. 

He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that grew from nervousness, he speaks your name, which it’s almost foreign on his tongue. 

You look up at him, “yeah..?”

“What uh,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before he points to your shoulder, “what happened?”

You need a moment to follow what he is pointing at. You are surprised, almost taken aback to hear a question coming from him, a question directed at you. Slowly, you look down, only now noticing that your sweater slipped. You put down the paddle that you used to form the butter and pull your sweater back up. 

“Uh… I fell onto broken glass when a sick person snuck up on me.” You explain, scrunching your nose, “I was distracted, I never am usually but I was hungry and looking for food and I found something I’ve been looking for, for months!” 

“Oh,” Steve mumbles and looks down. “What was it?” 

“...Kit Kat’s.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, lip curling up a bit, “you almost got yourself killed because of Kit Kat’s?” 

You shrug at him, “they’ve always been my favorite! And I haven’t had any since the day the world went to shit!” 

He chuckles a bit but he doesn’t comment on it further, just looking back down, giving you the opportunity to look at him closer, at the scar around his neck, you never asked how he got it, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He looks up to find you staring at his neck. He knows you are curious, you have been from the start, he always caught you staring at it. 

“I was dragged by a demo– a bat.”

He sees the way your eyes widen, how surprised you are by his explanation, “huh?”

He points to his neck, “it choked me, leaving a mark, while two others bit my flesh off.” 

Steve used to cringe every moment he spent thinking of that night, of when they dragged him across the floor, leaving marks on his skin. He used to have nightmares of it, until those nightmares were replaced by new pictures, worse ones. 

You nod slowly, looking him up and down, there are no other visible marks for you to see, except for the one on his neck. 

“Where?”

He sighs, not wanting to look into your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness flashing in them. He looks back down at the carrot he was cutting, picking the knife back up again, he continues. 

“My abdomen, my sides… but Eddie had it worse.” 

You quickly realize what he is doing, steering the topic away from him again, thinking he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he went through. 

You have seen the scars on Eddie’s skin, the deep and gnarly marks, he briefly told you what had happened but you never pushed the subject, you never tried to find out more. 

“You mean the scar on his lip…?” 

Steve nods, “his chest, abdomen, arms, legs… They’re all scarred. They bit off chunks of flesh.” He says, his voice sad, almost haunted. 

Your shoulders drop, the look on your face too, sadness flushes through you and you look down at the table, at nothing in particular.

You can’t imagine how it happened, the pain he was in, the fear that took home in all of them when Eddie was bleeding out and fighting for his life. 

Steve turns around when he registers your silence. He sees the worried, sad look on your face, how your lips curl downwards and your shoulders are dropped. 

“But we’re okay now, he is healthy as you can see… and annoying.”

At that, you smile a little, lifting your head back up to look at him, “yeah, but he’s adorable.” 

Steve draws back a little, raising an eyebrow at you, “you crushing on Munson or something?” 

Your eyes widen and you flush all over, shaking your head quickly that your hair falls out of your clip. 

“What, no! Ew! He reminds me of my brother! People that are just like my brother ain’t my type!” You scoff, shuddering a little. You pick up the paddle again and continue forming the butter into the shape you want to have it. 

Steve can’t help but smile, amused by the look on your face. He gets a little curious though. 

“... And what is your type?”

You hum, taking a moment to answer his question. 

He doesn’t look away from you just yet, he watches you. 

“Mmm… As long as he makes me smile when I need it the most… that’s all I need.” 

Steve nods at your words, humming. 

You look up at him, surprised to see him still watching you. 

“What about you? What’s your type, cowboy?” 

He flushes a little, cheeks warming under your eyes. He hasn’t talked about women in years, and hasn't thought about this either. 

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up and down, “I uh… I honestly have no idea.” 

He is not the guy he used to be, the one who was flirting freely and taking out one girl after the other – even that guy didn’t know his type. He was searching for something in every girl, and he never found it. 

“Oh come on!” You scoff, looking at him in disbelief, “what type of women did you go out with?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, they were always… stereotypical girls that always talked about the latest trends and stuff.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you look down. 

“Ah right… Prom King. I can guess which type of women you’re into–”

He quickly shakes his head at you, “no… no… I went out with them to have fun, it was just physical. Those girls weren’t my type.” 

You frown at his words and sigh. 

For some reason your reaction makes him think that you’re done with this conversation, but then you look back up and turn towards him completely. 

“Okay… then, when you’re with a woman, what is attractive to you?” 

“... Real answer?” 

“Sure…” You murmur. 

A smirk tugs at his lip when he notices how flustered you are getting when his eyes move up and down. 

You notice how he stops at your chest in particular and you can’t help but groan and shake your head in disappointment. 

“Booo…”

“No!” Steve raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling. 

“I was gonna say eyes.”

You roll your eyes, snorting, “right… I didn’t mean physically, Steve. I meant what is attractive to you when you’re on a date with them? What do they do that is attractive to you?”

Your words wipe the small smile off his face again, and he stands there in silence, getting lost in his thoughts, getting lost in the past, reliving every date, every moment that should have excited him but didn’t. He realizes that there was not a single date that is worth remembering, not a single girl who made him smile genuinely. Sure, he had fun the moment he was in pleasure but that’s all, the girls were attractive physically but emotionally? They all sucked, none of them cared about him, all they wanted was a piece of King Steve. 

And even when he thought he found something genuine, someone to love him, someone to care for him, it turned out to be a show, it was just as genuine as the interest all those girls had in him. It was all a lie. 

There is no love in him for her anymore, no feelings, no desires, nothing. But those words still hurt and sometimes they still haunt him because he believes it. Those words echo in his head, just like all the other hateful things others have thrown at him. But one in particular remains,

‘Bullshit’

“I… I don’t know…” He whispers, letting his facade fall for only a moment. “I guess someone who doesn’t see me as a failure.” 

You are taken aback by his words, a weird feeling settling in your chest at the confession. 

When Steve realizes what he said, when he notices the look in your face, when he notices his mistake, he immediately draws back. 

“W-What… Failure, why?” 

He shakes his head, turning his back to you again, “doesn’t matter, um… the butter should be done, wanna give me a hand cutting the potatoes?” 

You hesitate, staring at the back of his head. You want to know more, you want to know why he said that, you want to know why he feels like this, who made him feel like this. 

A sigh falls from your lips, loud enough for him to hear. 

“Sure…”

You leave it alone, not wanting to risk getting on his bad side again, you bite your tongue and do as he asked. You clean up the kitchen table before you walk over to him, getting your own cutting board, and you start peeling the potatoes. 

You work in silence for a while, just like before, but this one isn’t as uncomfortable, even though his words still echo in your head and you wonder about his past. You don’t want him to close up on you again, not when he just started to open up, so you don’t press the subject further. 

It’s too silent though and you can barely handle it. You let go of the peeler before you started peeling the potatoes, taking Steve aback, his eyes already glaring at you as you turned and walked away.

“Really? You don’t want to peel potatoes?”

“It’s too quiet!” You leave the kitchen, leaving Steve stunned as he looks back at the door. It was quiet but he didn’t think you were going to have a breakdown because of it. He doesn’t know you and that is being a little obvious by now. Maybe you don’t do good with silence and he just doesn't know that side of you. If he knew, maybe he could have talked about something else, or try.

But not two seconds later, he starts hearing the radio turning and then static. He doesn’t remember when was the last time they turned on that radio. He can hear you changing the channels of it, the static growing and lowering, and he wonders if you're crazy. There is no music being played. Who would operate a radio station in the middle of the apocalypse–

His eyes widen when he starts hearing ‘Hound dog’ by Elvis Presley. It is static, yet it is still there. There is music. Somewhere in Indiana, someone is operating a radio station. Someone is trying to keep people in a good mood despite it all. He never knew. Nancy never knew. Eddie never tried. The three of them thought that the only music they could have was Eddie’s guitar.

He hears you humming to it, walking back into the kitchen and placing the small radio on the far corner so you two can have the music to yourselves. He is still staring at the radio, completely stunned, his eyes wide. You turn to look at him when you grab the peeler, noticing the look of surprise.

“Why do you look so stunned?”

“I– I didn’t know they played music…” Your eyes went to look at it and you smiled, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I had one back at camp too… Did you know radio signals can travel from 50 to 60 miles away? Some AM stations up to 100 miles!” He is still surprised there is music, yet you are talking away facts to him about radio signals. But that actually caught his attention. There are others, not an hour away from him. It has to be the WSQK watts station. It has to be.

“There’s… a radio station near… like thirty or forty minutes away from here…” You turn to him, surprised as well now.

“Really? Well… there’s people operating there… Probably also sending out news and messages to people.” Your attention turns back to the potatoes, starting to peel away, leaving the peeled skin scraps in a mountain on the counter. 

“That’s… good to know.” It actually is good to know. They thought that the only radio signal they could ever get for news was Mr. Clarke’s transmitter that is in the library. That’s how they got contacted by Hopper when the others arrived in California, and now he is finding out that maybe some radio stations are still transmitting. They are probably using some kind of solar panel to make energy because–

“This potato has a worm.” He snaps out of his thoughts immediately at your words, frowning as he looks down at it. 

“There’s no worm there.” You slowly look up at him with a cheeky smile, only to look back down, leaving that peeled potato aside to grab another.

“You were thinking too much. Just enjoy the music, you can think later.” You reply and he blinks for a few seconds as the song keeps playing. He looks back down to his carrots, grabbing the knife he left on the side to keep cutting. The minutes pass, the songs changing, songs he knows. Songs that remind him of when the world didn’t simply go to shit. 

And there’s some kind of comfort in that.

“Did you know Marvin Gaye was shot by his own father?” You have been spitting facts and news to him that he either knew or never knew, and he didn’t notice he found himself talking back at you, even giving a fact or two of his own.

“I did, that was crazy as shit.” The song ‘Sexual Feeling’ was playing, that’s why you started talking about that with him. Each song that passed, you said something about it. You were stirring the vegetables in the boiling water while he sauted the meat in the pan, with the butter you made. He threw some rosemary in it too, for extra flavour.

One other thing he didn’t notice was that he had been humming along all this time.

He had two pans where he was cooking four pieces of meat, while you worked on making sure the vegetables were properly boiled. You had added some garlic in the pot because you claimed it’s good for the overall health. He almost chuckled at that because it was just because garlic is delicious. There was no need to put garlic on boiled vegetables. 

You two didn’t even notice that even in the silence of conversation, where just the music played, there was no more awkwardness. There was no tension. There was nothing that could make you think he didn’t like you anymore. 

“Is that Marvin Gaye?” The sound of Nancy’s voice makes the two of you turn around, and she is surprised to see you working together. It’s been days since you two last had a proper conversation, and– “Wait… music?”

“Yeah. She kind of discovered it. Nance, we didn’t know the radio station was still functioning, for a whole year.” Steve’s voice makes you feel proud, knowing you helped and that he was actually surprised by your discovery. Nancy blinks a few times, not believing her ears.

“Wait, so it means we can use that to receive news…” Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle for a second, only to then nod slightly.

“I bet they’re not different from the news we get from the transmitter in the library, Nance.” His head turns back to the meat, while you grab four plates, stacking them next to him. “Thanks.”

You try to tone down your giddiness, not wanting to show him you are really happy he is being civil and friendly with you, “No problem.”

Nancy’s eyes travel back and forth with the two of you, wondering what had changed, but it is better not to ask. Seeing Steve putting steak on each plate while you grab a colander from the cupboards below the sink. You are about to grab the pot yourself, grabbing kitchen clothes to not burn yourself on the handles, but Steve grabs them from you.

“Let me.” You see how he grabs the pot, not letting you do it, not letting you carry the heavy weight yourself.

“Um–” You don’t know how to react or say, kind of confused at his action, but you don’t dislike how much of a gentleman that move was. Nancy hums a bit to herself, clearing her throat before yelling out.

“Eddie! Food’s ready!” Your head turns to look at her, and you snap from your thoughts, not noticing you had been looking at his arms as they strained a bit when pouring the water into the colander. You quickly move to the cupboards to start setting up the table with Nancy as Eddie walks down the stairs. 

“Oh, shit, we eating Steve’s delicious steaks?” Steve rolls his eyes but he’s proud of his cooking. It’s one of those things he knew he was good at, and he never received any complaints.

“Just set the table up, Munson.” He replies and Eddie immediately moves to grab the water out of the fridge and set it on the table. You go back to the counter, next to Steve, and grab a big scooping spoon. Steve hands you one plate, with a steak on it, and you just add some boiled vegetables on it before placing it in front of Nancy as she sits down.

Once you are all seated, Eddie doesn’t even wait a second before he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, moaning as if he’s in a porn movie, making the other three of you cringe.

“Do you have to do that everytime you eat his steak?” Nancy asks as she cuts herself a little piece, Eddie turning to look at her, with his mouth full.

“Its’ ‘fee biss’ stek’ i’ve evur’ haf.” You snort into your water at the nonsense he just mumbled  because of his mouth full of food. Steve holds in a chuckle as he grimaces in disgust.

“Can you chew and swallow before you talk?” And Eddie glares at him only for his eyes to widen up as he looks around, a frown in his eyebrows. He chews quickly, swallowing where he almost choked.

“Is that– ‘Take on me’? Is that fucking music!?” Nancy snorts as you all realize that Eddie hadn’t even noticed the music playing because he was more focused on Steve’s steaks. 

You explain that you have found a few channels over the months every time you come across a radio somewhere, though none of them have played metal music. 

“Maybe you gotta do the heavy metal channel,” you shrug. 

“Huh, you know what? Maybe I will, once I figure out how to, I fucking will,” he nods happily before he takes another bite of his steak. 

Steve chuckles a little to himself, though he keeps his eyes trained on the plate before him. Nancy and Eddie share a look of surprise, it’s been a while since they saw him so… relaxed. 

For the first time in a while, he joins in on the small talk during dinner, commenting and nodding along to the things you talk about. A sparkle of hope is inside of both Nancy and Eddie, hope that maybe there is still something left in him wanting to try, wanting to live, wanting to fight for something better. 

Maybe he is ready to leave now, maybe he is learning how to let go. 

Eddie wastes no time in wanting to find out, because the moment you are all done eating and he pushes the empty plate away from him, leaning back, he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fishing something out. 

You all watch curiously. 

Eddie flashes you a smile when you lean closer, trying to peek over the table. He lifts his arm up and throws something over to Steve, the unmistakable sound of jingling keys passing by you, a flash over silver before your eyes before it lands in Steve’s hand. 

Steve looks down, feeling the metal in his palm, his fingers are closed around it. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is, the happiness in Eddie’s eyes and the dreadful feeling in his stomach tells him exactly what it is. 

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at nothing in particular. 

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, impatiently. 

Eddie looks at the both of you, unable to contain the smile on his face as he starts jumping up and down on his chair. 

“I finished it,” he explains proudly, though neither of you understand what he means by that as you both give him questioning looks, to which he sighs. “The RV! It’s up and running! We can finally get out of here!” 

“Seriously?” Nancy nearly squeals, her eyes lighting up at his words, she nearly jumps from her chair, almost knocking it over. 

You know that she’s been waiting for this, waiting to be reunited with her family again. 

“Yeah! We’re going to California, baby!” Eddie exclaims, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “So you better start packing your bags.”

You smile, sharing their relief as well. You've been waiting for it too, waiting to finally see your family again, though in this moment, you fear looking over at Steve, knowing how he feels about leaving Hawkins. You still turn your head, daring to take a glance and you find exactly what you thought you would. 

His features are no longer relaxed, his lips are no longer curled into a smile, his eyes aren’t soft like they were before. A mixture of sadness and anger lingers in them, and when he looks at you, meeting your eyes, you feel a shudder running down your spine, he no longer is the one from before, the one that laughed with you, the one that talked with you like you were his… friend. 

He clenches his jaw and he turns away again, throwing the keys back to Eddie who catches them with one hand, the smile falling from his lips when he finally notices the frown on Steve’s face. 

You all flinch a little when the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor and the brunette picks his plate up angrily before walking over to the kitchen. 

Nancy’s smile falls and her shoulders slump, helplessly she looks at Eddie. 

“Dude, you know we can’t stay here,” Eddie states carefully, with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re gonna run out of everything someday, you can’t prevent–”

“We won’t run out if we go hunting,” Steve grumbles. 

“There’s nothing left here for us, man. We got people waiting for us–”

Suddenly, Steve turns around, with his eyes angrier than before and his cheeks burning red, “you got people waiting for you! Leave me out of this!”

Nancy frowns in disbelief, as well as Eddie who gets up from his chair as well, throwing the keys on the dining table. 

“Seriously? You’re telling me that the kids aren’t waiting for you? That they haven’t been asking for you every time Dustin radio’d us and you’ve been acting like a complete asshole, refusing to speak to him – to them?” 

Steve scoffs loudly, turning back around, he makes his way over to the sink. 

“We’re not leaving without you, Steve,” Nancy speaks. “I’m not leaving you behind.” 

“That’s rich coming from you, Nance.” 

She falls silent after that, opening her mouth and closing it again, she looks a little taken aback, guilt flashes in her eyes. 

Eddie only sighs, looking down with a defeated look on his face. 

You don’t know what his words mean, you don’t know why she gives up after that. Many questions run through your head but you mostly wonder what he meant by that. 

“Steve,” Eddie tries again and you can hear the desperation in his voice, you can see the sadness in his face, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind but he doesn’t want to stay here either, he never wanted to, least of all now. “There is nothing left for us here, there is nothing left for you here, you know that, man. Robin is–”

You flinch again when he throws the plate into the sink, so hard it must’ve splattered in half. He turns around, throwing a finger at Eddie, “I told you I’m not leaving! If you wanna go, feel free to get the fuck out of here, all of you! But leave me alone!” He yells, glaring at the both of them before he storms out of the room, passing by you and out into the hallway, not bothering to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he rips open the door and leaves the house, slamming the door so harshly that you wonder if it’s still in tact or not. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline kicking in when you notice that Eddie and Nancy aren’t moving, not planning to follow him out. 

They know him better than you do, they know not to touch him now, he won’t listen, he won’t compromise, he will do more damage than anything else at this moment but you don’t know that. 

Worry settles deep in your gut, the urge to go after him growing stronger each passing second. You get up and push the chair back, leaving them no time to react before you rush out of the room, quickly throwing on your old pair of sneakers, not wasting any more time to follow him out. 

You hear your name being called before you slam the door shut, but you don’t bother to turn back around, you run straight into the storm, not caring about the rain you ran from earlier. 

You rip open the gate and close it behind you, looking around you as you try to spot him in the darkness, you squint your eyes when lightning strikes through the sky. You see his silhouette, three houses down the road. 

The rain runs down your face, soaking through your clothes already, the coldness of it clinging to your skin and making you shiver already, even as you start running after him, following him wherever he is going. You pick up the pace when he gets further and further away from you. 

Worry still gnawing at you, not knowing how he will react to you following him but you can’t just let him go like this, you know that he is angry but you also know that the anger is a mask for something else. He is sad, he is broken because of things that happened to him. You may not be the person he wants him to follow, but you just can’t let him go like this. 

You slow down when he rounds the corner of a house, disappearing behind the wall. The rain paddles harshly against the floor, thunder crashing through the sky. You almost slip on the muddy ground when you step into the grass, you halt in your tracks when you notice the surrounding bushes, somehow still full and alive, unlike most other things in Hawkins. 

You lost him after he disappeared into the garden of whoever lives or lived in this house. The white picket fence has no gate, and you can just walk through it. You follow the footprints in the mud, feeling grateful for the lightning for once. You push your wet hair out of your face, as you inch closer and closer to where he ran off to. 

You take deep breaths, trying not to shiver from the cold. Thunder makes you flinch again, though the loud crash is not what makes you halt in your tracks, nor is it the red lightning bolts in the sky that illuminate your surroundings, allowing you to see better, allowing you to take in the view before you. 

For a moment, you stop breathing, you stop moving completely, you are sure that even your heart stopped beating. You can only raise your hand to your lips as your eyes widen in horror. 

He is here, he is standing in this garden, only a few steps away from you. He is standing there with his head hung low, looking down at the grave before him, wilted flowers on it, a necklace dangling from the cross, a necklace that once dangled from her neck. 

Robin Buckley. 

The name engraved into the wooden cross, is the name you have heard so many times, the name of his best friend. 

So many feelings run through your veins but mostly shock and confusion. He talked about her like she was alive, they talked about her like she was alive, there was no sign of this. You could have never guessed. Every time he left the house saying that he was gonna visit Robin, you thought he was actually seeing her, you could have never imagined that he meant visiting her grave. 

Your heart breaks when the realization of it all begins to sink in, why he is the way that he is, why he doesn’t want to leave, why he is so filled with anger and rage. 

You swallow the sickening lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say or do, a part of you wants to walk away and leave him be, the other wants to comfort him, and the stronger part wins. 

“Steve…” You call out softly to him, your voice reaching him despite the raging storm.

He tenses up, you can see it, it takes him a moment but when he finally turns around, you realize what a mistake it was to follow him. Even through the darkness and the rain, you can see the glistening tears in his eyes, the angry ones, the scowl on his face directed at no one but you. 

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t!” He snaps loudly. “Don’t say anything right now!”

You press your lips together, taking deep breaths as you look at the intense emotions in his eyes, and his anger makes you cower away. Shivers run down your spine, not from the rain, but from how he looks at you. 

You shake your head slowly, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and watch him. Behind the hatred in his eyes, you see pain and sadness, you see how hard he is holding onto this, you see how it is driving him crazy, how it’s ripping him apart. 

“I-I didn’t know…” You say softly. 

Steve can hear the sadness in your voice, the gentle tone in it, the warmth in your eyes – he can’t stand it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it. 

“That she’s dead? You didn’t know that my best friend is dead?” Steve scoffs as he slowly starts to make his way over to you, inching closer carefully, staring at you like you are his prey that he is ready to rip apart, right here, right now. “Well, now you fucking do, she’s dead, Robin is dead just like most people are, just like you will be the moment you step out there!” He throws his hand up, pointing at nothing in particular. His voice is trembling, the rain streams down his face. 

You wince at his words. 

You know what’s waiting out there, you know the dangers of this world but that doesn’t stop you from finding your family, from keeping hope alive. 

You understand him now, more than anything. You don’t know how you would be if you lost someone you loved so dearly but he still has people he loves, people that love him. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, I’m sorry that you lost her,” you start, your own voice trembling, out of nerves and out of fear. “But she is gone, a-and you staying here won’t change it! It won’t bring her back, it won’t fix anything! I understand your pain, I really do… but– you have people who care for you, Eddie and Nancy. You have other people who are waiting for you… Dustin?” You say despite the shock that still curses through you. 

You don’t know whether it’s tears running down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but his eyes are glassy.

“Don’t bring Henderson into this! He is alive and well and that suffices!” 

“Does it really?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you look miserable most of the time, and you will end up all alone once Eddie and Nancy are gone!”

Steve takes another step closer to you, looking down at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes. 

“I know you feel like your life is over but it’s not, I–”

“You’ve known me for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I don’t care about your optimistic hopeful bullshit. When you find your parents and your brother dead, you will wish you never had it to begin with.”

You draw back, straightening your back, you stare at him, speechless and stunned. The words are caught in your throat, your chest aching more than ever. 

You know he is hurt and angry, and now he is trying to hurt you back. You know that they’re alive, you know that your parents are fine, you know that your brother is well. 

“They’re… they’re not–”

“You saw the world out there, open your eyes for just a second!” He snaps at you, getting closer and closer, allowing you to see him and his anger better. “You are leading my friends to their death! You are helping them leave! I-I thought you would want to stay once you realized you were safe here, that you’re all fucking safe!”

You shake your head at him, growing angry too for the things he said about your family. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to leave!?”

“Cause you are literally driving into hell! There are things you haven’t encountered there!”

“I want to see my family! Nancy and Eddie too! You have family waiting for you!” 

A humorless laugh falls from his lips, he brings his hand up to his face, pressing his knuckle under his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again, looking at you again, “family? My family is here, six feet under!” He yells, pointing at the grave. He is blinded by rage and sadness. “The one person I had in my life that cared for me like no one else had is gone! And I’m not leaving her here!” 

You know there is no getting through to him, not when he is like this.

Steve would rather chase after a ghost for the rest of his life. 

“Leave her here?” You whisper. “She’s not here anymore, Steve! Do you really think she would want this for you? She wouldn’t! You were family, you were her best friend, she would want you to leave, to find a better place, to live!” 

If the look in his eyes could kill, you’d be buried under this ground right now. You can see that it’s getting worse, that his eyes are burning, that his chest is heaving. 

“I know what danger is out there, but I need my family–”

“Smell the fucking non-existent sunflowers, they’re dead by now!” 

Steve tries it again, to hurt you, to harm you where he knows it hurts the most but you shake your head, trying not to let his words get to you, trying not to let his words touch your heart. You take a step away from him, shaking your head. 

“No–, no they’re not,” you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat, the painful throbbing in your heart, the hotness in your eyes. 

He scoffs at you, looking you up and down in disbelief, “you think you’re going to find your house surrounded by a gate of protection? You’re fucking delusional if you think so.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, taking a step back further. You hesitate, feeling intimidated by his presence all the sudden but he only follows, looking right into your glassy eyes. 

He is guided by hatred. He can no longer see clearly, the pain has turned him into this, the pain has made him cold. He doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, about the trembling in your bottom lip, about the fear and the sadness in your eyes. 

“My family is alive, I-I know they are–”

“Smell the decay of the corpses around you, and tone down that hope of yours before you end up even more hurt than you thought you could ever be. Open your eyes for once and stop acting like an immature little girl.” 

His words feel like a blow to your chest, stealing the breath from you and replacing it with pain. The colors vanish before your eyes, a darkness you never allowed to enter, blurring your vision and crawling into your veins, threatening to take over. 

The tears no longer stay in your eyes, they start falling freely as your bottom lip trembles, a sob threatening to escape you though you push it back down, not wanting him to see just how much his words have hurt you. 

You see nothing in his eyes, no remorse, no guilt, nothing but this – grief has turned him cold.

Your sniffle breaks his anger a little though, the blaring redness that flashed in his eyes just seconds ago, dimming just a bit when he begins to see the damage he has done. He sees the way your chest is rising up and down heavily, the way you're blinking quickly like it would stop your tears from falling, he sees the pain in your eyes that he had caused. 

You are crying, he made you cry when he once swore to himself to never do this to anyone ever again. 

“You’re…” Your voice breaks and you wipe your tears, as though it would change anything. “You’re a douchebag.” 

The tension in his shoulders leaves him, and regret starts sinking in. 

Robin thought that of him before she got to know him, before she became his friend. He changed, even more so when he found her. 

Has her death made him turn back around?

Has it changed him this much?

She would be disappointed, she would kick his ass for what he did just now, for what he said, for how he made you feel, for making you cry when all you wanted was to help. He knew where it would hurt the most and he chose to hit you there exactly, not caring about what it would do to you. 

You tear your eyes away from him, sniffling quietly as you walk away from him, leaving him in the rain. 

His fingers itch, his hand moves forward as though to stop you but he quickly clenches his fist and breaks his eyes away from you, looking down at the muddy ground. He closes his eyes, shutting them tightly as he holds back tears. His heart is aching more than ever. 

He knows you’re right, deep down he knows. 

He knows it’s only fair for Eddie and Nancy to leave, he knows it all, he understands it all.

He knows that she would want him to go with them, that she would force him to if she could. He knows she’s gone, he hasn’t felt her presence since the day a bird had sat down on her cross, she is gone and there is no bringing her back, not even if he stays. 

But how can he leave when all that is left of her is this? 

Everywhere he turns there’s a reminder that she was here, every good memory he has of her would be abandoned and he can’t do it, he just can’t. 

With trembling lips and tears now streaming down his cold cheeks, he turns back around, looking at her name on the cross, at the reminder… that she is gone, forever. His knees almost buckle, a sob threatens to rip from his lips but he doesn’t let it, he doesn’t allow himself to break down, even as the sadness and the guilt begins to consume him. 

“Robin,” he whispers, shakily. He knows he won’t get an answer, he knows he won’t get the sign that he’s been begging for, he knows he won’t hear her voice calling back to him, the only thing he hears is the rain, the rustling trees and his own heartbeat. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, he tastes the bitterness. “Birdie…”

She is gone and she’s not coming back. 

He lost her, and soon he will lose more. 

Soon his biggest fear will catch up to him. 

Being left behind, being all alone. 

It was bound to happen. 

Right?

-

Steve didn’t come out of his room all day. 

You haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him, haven’t heard his voice in the hallway or anywhere else. 

He came home shortly after you the night before, you heard him talking to Nancy, heard her asking questions that he didn’t answer. You know she told him that you’re leaving today, told him to pack his bags and be ready by night. It’s getting dark out now, your bags are in the RV, as well as Nancy’s and Eddie’s, along with a box of pictures and other things that they refuse to leave behind. 

You are all ready to go, all except for him. 

Eddie is giddy, excited to finally hit the road, though you can also see his jumpiness, how he can’t seem to sit still, the anxiety of having to leave Steve behind is eating at him. 

Nancy is distracting herself, sitting at the dining table, her guns and knives sprawled across the table, a cloth in her hand as she cleans her weapons. 

You’re sitting by the window, looking into blank space. Sadness lingered in you all day, and it didn’t change throughout it. He planted thoughts into your head that you refused to think about or even consider, though now a part of you can’t help but feel anxious because what if… what if there is some truth to it? What if you are being a little too hopeful? What if you are being ignorant and foolish? 

You know he was hurt, and that hurt has triggered the anger, anger that he directed at you – he wanted to hurt someone and you were there, the perfect target, you are the reason why his friends are leaving now. 

You didn’t mention what you found out last night, not to Eddie nor Nancy. It only really sunk in this morning, when you woke up with a headache after crying yourself to sleep. 

You don’t know how he lost her but something tells you that she didn’t go peacefully. He blames himself, you saw it in his eyes. 

“We should go soon.” It’s Nancy who breaks the silence in the room, a determined look on her face. You can sense her hesitation, her nervousness. She doesn’t want to go without him, you saw the way her eyes kept flicking to the staircase waiting for him to come walking down the stairs with bags in his hands, he never did. She told him to be ready by 7pm, it’s 8 now. 

Eddie told you that Steve said goodbye, that he hugged him and Nancy, and prepared food and snacks for the road. No matter how much they begged and tried to convince him to come with them, it was to no avail. He never planned on leaving, not then, not now. 

A part of you wants to try, to go up to his room and talk to him again but you doubt he wants to see you, especially after last night. He hates you, you saw it in his eyes. He won’t change his mind, not for you. He hurt you, but you still don’t want him to stay here, to be alone, to be left behind. 

Eddie stops pacing around, he watches Nancy as she gets up from her seat, putting the guns and knives away into her backpack. 

“Nance,” Eddie hesitates, looking at her in uncertainty. 

She throws her backpack over her shoulder and shrugs at him, trying to look tough, trying to mask the worry on her face. 

“He made his choice, he wants to stay. I won’t force him to come with us.” That is all she says before she leaves the room, taking you by surprise with her sudden coldness. She walks out of the house without another word.

Eddie glances at you, taking in the frown on your face, the sadness behind your puffy eyes. He knows that something happened between you and Steve when you followed him out into the rain, last night. He suspects that he threw unkind words at you – you didn’t tell him anything, neither did Steve but Eddie knows it crashed between you. 

Now all he sees is hesitation in your eyes, despite the hurt written across your face. He can tell you don’t want to leave him behind. Eddie noticed that you had developed some kind of attachment to Steve, despite his constant cold shoulder. 

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, blinking rapidly as you get up, not moving away from the window just yet though. 

Eddie sighs, he walks over to the desk by the window, opening one of the drawers, he picks out a map he kept hidden, a copy of the one already in the RV. It’s marked up just like the other one, the town in California circled in a red color. He carries it over to the dining table, “in case he changes his mind,” he tells you. 

You furrow your eyebrows as you look between him and the map, “I thought you didn’t have a copy?” 

He makes his way over to you, a small smile grazing his lips, he places his palm on your shoulder, “guess I lied a little.” His brown eyes are sad, not matching the smile at all. He squeezes you, nodding softly before he steps away, looking around one more time, even though he’s done it a few times already today. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah…” 

He closes the door behind him, leaving you by yourself. 

You can’t say that you’re surprised by their sudden decision to leave today, but then again, they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. They’ve been waiting for it for a year, waiting for him to be ready. He never will be. 

You take a deep breath as you look around the house you found shelter in, found new friends in. You wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t follow him that day. You tug your jacket closer to your body, gripping it tightly. 

You don’t want to leave without him. 

But you are the last person to change his mind. 

You have known him for a few days only and yet he managed to crawl under your skin. You got used to him, despite his rough demeanor, despite yesterday. 

You make your way upstairs, you can’t leave without saying goodbye. 

But when you knock on his door, he doesn’t respond or open the door – not that you expected him to. You lean against the door frame, keeping your knuckle against the wooden door. 

“Steve?” You whisper shakily, hoping to hear his voice. “I uh… I just wanted to thank you, for letting me stay, I know you didn’t want to but still… thank you.”

You hear nothing on the other side, no shuffling, no footsteps, no sighs, nothing. 

A sigh falls from your lips, the sadness in you spreading further. 

“Despite everything, it was nice meeting you… Goodbye Steve.” 

You finally pull away from the wood, looking at the door one last moment before you head back downstairs and grab the backpack you left on the floor. You look around the house one last time and you can’t help but imagine him walking downstairs, where his friends once were, and see them all gone. Just himself and the ghost of what once was and never will be again.

It hurts to leave him behind, and you can’t even imagine how Nancy and Eddie feel. You have your answer once you head out and towards the back where you see Eddie wiping his cheek away while making sure the tires are all set, and how Nancy has her back towards the two of you, and her legs are slightly shaking as she looks at stuff into her weapon bag.

They are hurt from leaving him behind, way more than you are. You had to reassure them that even in loneliness, Steve will be safe. He is inside a community, guarded even if little, but he is still with people and in safety.

“Okay ladies, I think we are good to go.” Eddie says finally and you head over to Nancy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Nance.” You see her looking at the distance, towards the same way you followed Steve the night before. You see her gulp tightly, nodding at you before turning around and heading inside the RV first. You turn to see Eddie giving you a small comforting smile as he looks at the house one last time. 

He sighs as he turns towards you, bowing down as he points with his arm towards the open door of the RV. You can only smile so little at the theatrics, and you take a deep breath before you step inside, surprised to see just how well equipped it is. Two big seats at the front, driver and passenger, then followed by counters on the side, and then a couch on the other. A pull out couch. Then at the end of the kitchen counter sat a small booth, with a small table in the middle. 

You see there is a small little hallway, which has the door to the toilet, and then at the very back end you can see the big double bed. It has a sliding door to close it from everyone else if needed. You are amazed by it, a small and nice motorhome for the three of you. Eddie enters the RV as Nancy starts the vehicle. He closes the door behind him and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You like it? I installed the pull out couch myself. We have enough gas till the next possible gas station, and hopefully there’s still some left, so we need to make sure to not run out before that.” Nance only nods as you look up and open the bag cupboard at the top of the couch, putting your bag inside as well as Eddie’s and hers. You close it and you three hear the RV coming to life finally. 

“Good job Eddie.” Nancy finally smiles his way, and Eddie puffs out his chest as he sits in the passenger’s seat, pulling the map out of the glove compartment in front of him. He had marked down all possible places they could stop at to look for more food and gas. Even toiletries. He also marked all possible gas stations, and you realize they had been planning this for a very long time.

“Okay… goodbye Hawkins you piece of shit.” Eddie says, making you hum as you take a seat on the couch. Your body suddenly sways as the RV starts to move slowly, and the excitement starts to come back to you as well as the fear of what you might encounter. You are going to your family. You are going to find your family and you will be safer this time. You have people around you, armed and willing to protect you as much as you would protect them. You won’t sleep in the mud, looking for cover under the cup of the trees. You will be sleeping either on a nice couch, or the bed whenever available. 

You see how Nancy turns the lights on and off quickly, just enough to mark her way through the trees, not following the main road so no one would stop you all. Your hands were gripping the couch tightly, not wanting to look out the window, not wanting to look back, but you were itching to do so. 

It takes time because Nancy is going as slow as possible so the motorhome would not do that much of a sound thanks to the engine. You know that people are already sleeping by now, except for the guards at the front gate, and you are taking the closed off one. The one in all chains. 

Once you reach it, Nancy stops the RV right in front of it, Eddie getting up from the passenger’s seat to walk towards the cupboard underneath the sink of the kitchen, taking out some bolt cutters. Your eyes widen as he pulls those out and you turn to look at Nancy.

“Hang on, you are cutting those open– you are going to leave the gate open for all the community inside here!” Nancy sighs at your outburst and you hear the clanking of chains, you turn your head to see Eddie holding a new pair in his hands and a lock.

“We are not that reckless and selfish. It took me some time to find a spare pair of chains this size, and a lock, but– It’ll endure.” With those last words, he jumps off the RV, and you rush to the passenger seat to see him get into action, grabbing the cutters and start snapping the chains away. 

You’re biting your lip as you see the metals falling piece by piece. Eddie hesitates for just one second before he snaps open the last chain. He pushes one of the doors open slightly and Nancy turns on the bright lights instantly. You see how he pulls it open even more and you see how there is nothing out there, giving you guys the green light to go. He gives a nod towards the two of you and pushes the first gate open and then the next one. 

His eyes widen when one bright light shines your way, the guard light tower pointing your way. The sound of a loud siren blasting suddenly and you realize you’ve been caught. Nancy and you motion Eddie to leave the chain behind, that people will put it back together instead of him. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nancy curses loudly. 

Eddie snaps out of it as he rushes to the doors of the RV, the motorhome starting to move forward as you hear the screams of people, telling you to stop, to turn back, that it’s dangerous out there. The front of the vehicle is out and you’re almost passed the gate when Eddie’s head turns to his left, his panicked face falling as his eyes widen. 

“Eddie, get in!” You yell, trying to snap him out, and Nancy groans loudly.

“Munson, I’m stepping the gas whether you get fully inside or not–”

“It’s Steve!” Her eyes widen as well as yours. She doesn’t stop moving, instead slowing down. 

You rush towards the window, popping your head out and sure enough, you see him. 

He is running fast even with a bag hanging on his back, two duffel bags on each side of his hips, his bat in one hand, the other gripping a flashlight tightly. You hear Eddie egging him on, to keep running because Nancy is not stopping, she can’t. You see the flashlights of people running towards you, right behind Steve, ready to stop you all from stepping into the danger zone. 

He can’t feel his limbs anymore from how much he ran, from how dumb it was to not tell the three of you that he had actually packed, leaving the bags in his room. Dumb to tell you that he left to give his last goodbye to Robin’s parents and Robin herself. He spent all day with her. Had breakfast, had lunch, and finally dinner. 

He lost track of time, and when he returned to the house, none of you were in it. His heart had crumbled to the floor, but it was just a few minutes late, so if he had any luck, you three were still near. He grabbed everything as fast as he could, rushing into the kitchen to shove one last thing into his duffel bag, and then run out. He ran through the woods with his flashlight, following the broken bushes and the tire trails the vehicle left. 

As soon as the RV came into view, the lights from behind him turned on, his panic rising as he didn’t have a chance to even catch a breath. He saw how the officers and the guards started running towards him with their flashlights, and he took off. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, trying not to think of all the weight he was also carrying. He could hear Eddie calling for him, his hand reaching out already for Steve to grab.

He knew that the moment he grabbed Eddie’s hand, Hawkins would be a thing of the past. She would be the past. Everything would be the past. But Robin would have wanted him to move forward. She would have wanted him to keep on going. She would have kicked his ass if she found out he was willing to throw everything away just for her. She would have wanted him to actually live.

So he grabs onto Eddie’s hand.

Eddie pulls tightly with a grunt, using all his strength. Nancy picks up the speed and throws her foot onto the gas when Steve manages to put one foot on the first step of the RV. Eddie drags them both inside, falling onto the floor with Steve. 

You are stunned as you stare down at them both. You snap out of it when you feel the cold wind, you run towards the door and shut it, locking it.

Steve is panting, no, heaving as he tries to recover his breath on all fours, staring at the floor. Eddie is sitting up, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back. The three of you are silent, not having expected Steve to appear out of nowhere at the last minute. 

“What… What happened?” Eddie asks, his own breathing heavy from the whole ordeal, and you can just stand over them both, looking as Steve starts to shake, your eyes coming to meet in the middle in worry.

“I– I was saying goodbye– I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–” And you can hear the choked up voice, your heart turning with sadness as Eddie’s eyes glistened, looking at his friend. Nancy couldn't stop driving, but she turned her head for just one second to look and you saw how a tear was running down her cheek, her gaze turning back to the road.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is low, a whisper and it was the key that opened the gate to Steve’s emotions. Through his heavy breaths, you start hearing his sobs. Choked up sobs that he wanted to swallow down, but it was impossible. Soon, his tears were hitting the floor as he stared down at it, his fingers digging into the carpet as memories flashed in his mind.

He could almost picture Robin waving at him from the gate that people were already closing. He could almost picture how she would be smiling and jumping happily the more the RV drove away. How she would be cheering him on. His cries were loud, knowing there is a part of him that was being left behind, a part that he will never in his life get back. 

You could hear the sniffles coming from the driver’s seat as well, quieter than Steve’s cries of pain, and you saw how Eddie was keeping a strong face for both his friends, especially Steve who was still trying to breathe through his sobs.

You just stood there as you waited, wanting to comfort the man that was on the floor, but you knew better. It was a moment that he needed to have with his friends, with his family. You felt your own tears flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t know Robin, but from the cries of your new found friends, you realized she was loved. She was very much loved.

The road ahead was uncertain, but in Steve’s mind, only one little thing resonated, one little voice that he could hear despite the dark clouds inside it, and the screams coming out of his mouth. If he was imagining it, he hoped it would never leave him. He might have gone crazy, but he was so happy to hear her voice, at least one last time.

‘Goodbye, Dingus.’

☀︎

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