#richie is a proud boyfriend

[trashm0utheds]

a hc for Eddie that he has band aids ready on his pockets wherever he goes.

also, he has specific colors for each of the Losers that match their personalities.

Mike: Yellow; optimistic, adventurous, infectious energy

Ben: Orange; resourceful, kind, open-minded

Stan: Pink; soft, reserved, sensitive

Bill: Blue; wise, sympathetic, reliable

Bev: Purple; bold, glamorous, creative

Richie: Red; passionate, confident, outgoing, love

the rest of the Losers allow Eddie to place the band aids on them because they know they're on good hands when they get wounds or scrapes.

[little-annie]

Sex worker Eddie meeting his boyfriends family for the first time. Imagine his surprise when he sits down at the Harrington's dining room table only for one of his regulars to sit down at the head of it. The man he knows as Richie, who has a slew of mommy issues and a rather prominent foot fetish sits down like he owns the place. Which Eddie supposes he does. Though that doesn't stop Richard from turning a ghostly shade of white upon meeting Eddie's eye for the first time that evening. Who knew the man that pays to call him Mommy and suck on his big toe every Wednesday night at the Hilton is the same man who has beaten Steve to a bloody pulp not once, but twice before. The fucking prick.

There's an immediate tension that's began to fester in the room. Thick and uncomfortable. It kinda feeling like a ticking time bomb that's bound to explode any minute.

"Richie," Eddie greets Steve's father with an extended hand, bright, joval, like reunited old friends, noticing the way Steve's attention tears away from the conversation he'd just been having with his mother.

Because you see, Eddie's told Steve about Richie. He's told Steve about a great handful of his clients but especially this fucker. This supposed Wallstreet hot shot who begs to lick Eddie's foot until he's shaking simply over the taste of it, who calls Eddie Mommy and cries every time he comes. Who is such a pathetic bitch that Eddie can't help but go home to Steve and laugh about it.

Steve's mother notices the tension too but seems non the wiser to the cause, smiling warily between the two when she asks, "Oh Honey, how do you two know each other?"

"Work," Eddie replies with a sadistic smirk, sitting a little straighter in his seat compared to earlier when he was anxious to meet the famed fuck up of a father Richard Harrington.

And because he can't help it, because he knows he's already dropping Richard as a client now that he knows who he is, Eddie can't help but add, "How's your mother these days, Rich?"

Steve snorts into the wine glass that he'd began to rather hastily down to Eddie's left, trying to stifle a laugh so sharp it nearly sounds like a sob.

Eddie can't help but feel the slightest bit proud when Richard looks about two seconds from throwing up.

[carolmunson]

i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut. 

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out. 

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating. 

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it. 

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!” 

The two  bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?” 

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–” 

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar. 

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”  

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.” 

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.” 

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go. 

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner. 

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles. 

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host. 

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks. 

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant  hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen. 

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout. 

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.” 

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs. 

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.” 

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.  

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you. 

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car. 

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.” 

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.” 

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.” 

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.” 

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.” 

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.” 

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?” 

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.” 

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back. 

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill. 

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.” 

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat. 

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.” 

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling. 

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits. 

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y��know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.” 

“Great.” 

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table. 

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?” 

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”   

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“ 

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh. 

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–” 

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work  because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?” 

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.” 

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.” 

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!” 

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans. 

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.” 

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?” 

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck. 

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!” 

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before. 

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite. 

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.” 

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.” 

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.” 

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.” 

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…” 

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted. 

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers. 

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep. 

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand. 

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–” 

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger. 

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?” 

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.” 

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.” 

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.” 

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.” 

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside. 

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder. 

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest. 

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night. 

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’ 

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door. 

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers. 

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead. 

“How much?” you ask over the music. 

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear. 

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back. 

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar. 

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part. 

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar. 

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool. 

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. 

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!” 

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony. 

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle. 

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.” 

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?” 

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.” 

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease. 

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.” 

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.” 

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush. 

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.” 

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd. 

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny. 

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it. 

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’ 

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again. 

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that. 

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do. 

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be. 

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies. 

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather. 

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’ 

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you. 

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin. 

“You come here often?” 

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s. 

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.” 

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.” 

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you. 

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?” 

[nolita-fairytale]

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list

a/n: this is a little blurb inspired by ayo's incredible reaction to every interviewer ever asking her about jaw's calvin klein campaign.... if you haven't seen it, she just hides the photo or makes the funniest 'please don't bring this up' face while exclaiming: that's my boy! this is a work function! you can see it here (watch till the end you will not regret it ayo'sgettingpeoplefit@hotmail.com.co.uk -- it costs A LOT of money lmao). anyways, congrats to my golden globe winners eeeeeek!

riding the high of the bear's newest award: best restaurant great lakes, and buzzed on the best that veuve cliquot has to offer, as many staff members of the bear as possible have to come to celebrate at the james beard awards once again.

of course, you're hoping this year's afterparty will be a little less eventful -- not that you're mad at how last year's ended.

you, carmy, syd, richie, natalie, marcus, tina, and ebra are all gathered for an interview, answering questions about taking home the big win for the restaurant.

"last year chef sydney took home the rising star award, and this year it's best restaurant great lakes. how does it feel?" the interviewer, a well known and james beard-award winner herself, sophia roe asks as her cameraman follows closely behind.

"yeah, it's uh, wow. it's a huge accomplishment and we cannot be more honored to be taking this win home," sydney answers with a grin stretched far across her face.

it's surreal, for all of you, really.

"and chef carmy, i hear there's another congratulations in order," sophia continues. "you made people magazine's sexiest chef list this year and then shortly after, had a profile done in GQ."

nat groans in response while richie snickers, only too quick to whip out the screenshot he has on his phone of the article as carmy turns beet red.

"i uh... yeah. that was um... a surprise," he stammers his eyes shifting from the interviewer to you, and then to richie for a death glare.

"oh don't worry. i got it riiiiiiight here," richie says, eager to rush over to the interviewer and revel in carmy's embarrassment.

"oh put that away!!" sydney snaps, pushing richie's phone down.

"mixed reviews from the restaurant staff?" sophia asks curiously.

"looks like i'm the only proud of our guy," richie gloats, shooting you a look that causes your eyes to roll.

"no of course not!" sydney exclaims.

"it's just-, that's my brother!" natalie is quick to chime in, defending sydney.

"exactly. that's my boy! that's-, he's our-, this is our family," sydney explains passionately. "that's her brother." and then a quick gesture to you. "and that's her husband!"

"my what?!" you exclaim, caught off guard.

carmy snorts out a laugh in response to you while the interviewer and cameraman chuckle.

"sorry! that's her mans. that's her boyfriend, yknow?" sydney corrects herself with a laugh, before continuing to answer the interviewers question, this time with both marcus and richie to support.

"can't start any rumors, now can we?" you mutter under your breath, for only carmy to hear.

carmy only snakes his arm around your waist, hugging you closer to him this time.

"and if you ask me," you add, mischievously. "i'd be more than happy to tell everyone about your new accolade of 'sexiest chef alive' if i knew it wouldn't totally humiliate you."

carmy laughs dryly this time, "good thing syd jumped to my defense then first, babe."

"good thing."

[ellebakers]

☆ Still love you (+18)

Chad meeks martin x reader.

Summary : You're chad's first love, the one he had before liv, you also survived the woodsboro massacre but since that event you've been doing everything you can to escape reality even if it means destroying yourself and chad can't stand it.

Warnings : Sex, mention of death, blood, language.

everything was better before.

you have always lived in woodsboro, within a warm and loving family. you went to school all year with the same group of friends. tara carpenter, wes hicks, amber freeman, mindy and her brother chad meeks martin.

you have always been closer to chad, wes and amber, indeed wes has always been your confidant, the one to whom you talked about your problems and to whom you confided your secrets. amber your sidekick, the one with whom you did all your first times like your first cigarette, your first hangover and many other things you weren't proud of.

and chad, he was your best friend then your first boyfriend, your first love, the one to whom you gave your virginity and who gave you his.

everything was perfect, until the day your mother gale weathers received a job offer in new york.

you had to say goodbye to your friends, to your love to go and live elsewhere.

at first, your father followed you, but he couldn't handle life in a big city, so he left your mother to go back to live in woodsboro. why didn't you follow him ? well because of chad. when you moved to new york, you tried to make things work, you called each other, he came on certain weekends and you went to his house when you could, but the distance got the better of your relationship. little by little you lost this link, you no longer had anything in common so breaking up was the best decision. then some time later he posted on social media with his new girlfriend liv. so you preferred to stay with your mother and start a new life. apart from your friends and your father, you didn't care about anything in woodsboro.

until the day when wes called you to tell you that tara had been assaulted by someone wearing the ghostface mask. you didn't hesitate a minute and you ran to your childhood town.

the reunion with chad was embarrassing. just like meeting his girlfriend. but that wasn't what hurt you the most, no. what destroyed you was the brutal death of your father, that of your best friend wes and for the grand finale you discovered that the person you trusted the most was responsible for these deaths. amber, your best friend murdered your father and she was responsible for wes' death. she looked you straight in the eye, she told you how she killed your father, then she stabbed you multiple times, watching you bleed out on her kitchen floor.

she didn't do it alone, of course, richie, samantha carpenter's boyfriend was her accomplice and obviously her secret boyfriend. you managed to survive thanks to your mother, your godmother sidney, samantha and tara who killed richie and amber.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

this was all a year ago. a lot of things have happened since. you went back to new york with your mother to try to mourn your father. you had graduated and had been accepted to blackmore university just like tara, mindy and chad.

samantha had also moved to town, she lived in an apartment not far from campus with her sister and a girl named quinn. mindy lived on campus with his girlfriend anika and chad also lived on campus with his roommate ethan.

between your mother and you things have changed since despite what she had promised, she had written a fucking book about what happened while writing shit about your friends.

that's why you decided to take an apartment not far from sam and tara.

but despite your new life and the fact that you and chad became closer and closer, you felt empty. every night you dreamed of your father's death. and every night you woke up screaming and crying.

for months you felt like shit. but during a party you found a way to sleep well. thanks to drugs.

your dealer’s name was jordan, he was a guy who was in your history class. he gave you some smoking plants and you had the best night in months, so you went back and bought some over and over again so much that now when you feel a nightmare coming you wake up and take a few puffs to sleep well.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

this party was really bad, but the alcohol was flowing and your drinking partner. tara. was full of energy and she wasn't about to let you go. not now.

"i need another drink." informed you the brunette before leaving in the direction of the kitchen to reload.

you scanned the crowd for a certain boy. but you were very quickly disappointed when you found him leaning against a wall, a pretty redhead under his arm making puppy eyes at him. you took a last sip of your glass and headed for the dance floor.

you were dancing alone when jordan approached you, your mood lit up seeing him.

"jordyyyyyy." you exclaimed jumping at him.

he laughed and pushed you lightly. "oh oh i know someone who is drunk."

you rolled your eyes. "absolutely not."

he approached your ear and whispered to you. "i have brand new merchandise."

you bit your lip and nodded, whispering back. "you know i'm always a taker."

from the outside, it looks like you're talking about something hot. like two students who proposed a sex session.

at least that's how chad felt and his hand tightened around his can even more, he wasn't paying any attention to what the redhead was saying to him. all that was on his mind was how close this guy was to you and how you bit your lip as he whispered something in your ear. he felt his blood boil as you took this guy's hand, guiding him upstairs.

"chad are you listening to me."

without even looking at the girl he intended to fuck in the bathroom, he answered her. "no." then he went in the same direction as you.

once upstairs, he tried to open all the doors, but they were all locked and moans were heard in each one. he was trying to recognize your voice but he couldn't.

the fact that you could be one of this moaning girls made him want to vomit. not imagine you moaning, no, it was imagining a guy other than him making you moan that made him sick.

suddenly he froze when he heard your laughter in the bathroom. he put his ear to the door to listen.

"i promise you y/n, this guy was hot, but he lasted like three seconds."

your laugh made chad smile, he hadn't heard you laugh in a long time.

"i know what it is, don't worry."

jordan laughed in turn. "go ahead and explain. i have just entrusted you with my worst hookup, it's up to you now."

he knew he shouldn't be listening, but curiosity pushed him to press his ear even closer to the door.

"okay. It was like two years ago. my mom was at a social party. i was bored to death and one of the waiters was flirting with me so i ended up letting him fuck me in the storeroom except. he came in like two thrusts and moaned oh shit, yes i’m your little slut."

your dealer burst out laughing throwing his head back. "oh fuck. will we ever find a handsome and talented guy in bed."

you took a puff of your magic cigarette before turning to jordan. "i had found him. chad, my first love."

"oh oh chad like your buddy chad." you nodded. "yeah, he was my first boyfriend and obviously my first time. i never loved anyone else after him. and believe me, i slept with a lot of guys after our breakup however, i never had so many orgasms with them, whereas when chad and i did it, he didn't give me a minute of rest ."

jordan clapped a hand against his chest. "y/n stop otherwise i'll come down and fuck him myself."

you rolled your eyes. "he's probably already busy with the pretty redhead he had under his arm earlier."

jordan shook his head. "listen even if he's good in bed, he's dumb. if i had an ex as hot as you, i'd do anything to get her back."

chad didn't know what to do. he felt the blush rise to his cheeks, not only had you never loved after him but you confessed that he was the best sex of your life.

he widened his eyes when he heard you say. "i want to fuck now."

jordan cleared his throat. "oh uh, that's really cool, but you know i like guys then." you burst out laughing and nudged his shoulder. "i'm not talking about you jordan. i just want to fuck that's all."

he laughed in turn. "i'm sure you can find a guy or a vibrator. anyway. i'll go." you got up from the bathtub where you were. "wait, how much do i owe you for this ?" he shook his head. "nothing at all, a little magic cigarette from time to time is good."

chad frowned. you were on drugs.

he didn't have time to hide, jordan opened the door and came face to face with him. the dealer turns to you. "oh chad." you pulled out the joint you were smoking and groaned when you saw him. "shit."

he pushed aside to let jordan pass and he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him, sticking his back to it. he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you. "if you're looking for a free bathroom for your antics with the pretty redhead, there's one downstairs i think." you put on a fake smile and looked at your reflection in the mirror to fix the mascara that had run due to the heat.

"since when do you do this ?" he asked you.

you didn't even try to deny or avoid the question, you kept removing the mascara using a cotton ball you had found and water. "since i wake up every night screaming after dreaming of my father's death." you dropped it so naturally that he was seized with shivers. he straightened up and approached you. "what ?"

you caught his eye in the mirror and shrugged. "when I'm not dreaming of my father's death, i'm dreaming of wes' death or what amber did to me, so. what you saw me smoked helps me sleep without waking me up screaming and crying."

he turned you to him and put his hands on your hips. "why didn't you tell me, i could have helped."

"and how huh ? by coming to tuck me in. by reading me a story."

he paused, considering what to say. then he took your face in his hands and ran his thumb over your lips. "like that." he leaned down and put his lips against yours. instinctively you put your arms around his neck and kissed him back. he gently passed his tongue against your lips to ask permission to enter. you gave it to him as you opened your mouth and your tongues danced until you had to push each other to breathe.

"it works quite well."

he rested his forehead against yours and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "so stop taking that shit."

you closed your eyes and exhaled. "chad, i have no other solutions."

he nodded. "you have other solutions. i just showed you one."

you growled and pushed you away from him to turn towards the mirror. "and what am I supposed to do ? call you every time in the middle of the night so that you come and kiss me and then leave. it will be useless because in any case i find myself alone in this apartment ."

he leaned his chest against your back and pushed your hair over one shoulder to gain access to your neck. he gave it a few kisses before putting his chin up and looking at you in the mirror.

"you don't have to be alone. i can stay with you."

he put his hands around your waist and you put your hand on his. feeling him against you reassured you.

"that's when you're going to tell me that's what friends do. isn't it."

he rested his mouth on your neck but instead of kissing it he sucked it lightly, which forced you to bite your lip to keep you from moaning. after all these years he still knew where your sensitive spot is.

he lifted his mouth slightly. "i think we know you like me that we are more than friends."

he ran one of his hands over your breasts sensually, made you arch your back, he took advantage of the fact that you weren't wearing a bra to take one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, made you moan. your dress was so thin that you felt like you were naked under his hands.

"i still love you. you know it y/n, you always knew it."

"chad." you whispered. as he continued to play with your now hard nipples, he reached his other hand between your thighs and stroked you gently but adding pressure. that drove you crazy. you needed him and now.

he turned you around stopping his gestures on your body and kissed you. he picked you up gently and placed you on the sink.

"baby if only you knew how much i pictured us like this." he whispered against your mouth. "you, sweating and begging me to keep going. and me, deep inside you. for years i couldn't stop thinking about us, the way our bodies fit perfectly together. the way you arched your body every time that i was hitting that sweet spot."

he was going to kill you, not only with his words but also by his lack of caresses. "chad touch me please."

he smiled against your mouth and without warning, he tore your panties and inserted a finger inside you. the pleasure was such that you arched your back and moaned louder, louder than with any other guy.

"tell me that you also thought of us."

you gasped as he inserted a second finger. writhing in pleasure you grabbed his top and pulled him against your lips. he kissed you with such fervor that your whole body burst into flames.

"all the time." you whispered against his mouth.

he withdrew his fingers and pushed himself away. you were about to complain but he got down on his knees and took your thighs which he pulled to bring you closer to the edge of the sink, taking care not to let you fall. you understood very quickly what he had in mind.

he spread your thighs, put one of your legs on his shoulder and he started what he had wanted to do for too long. he began by leaving kisses inside your thigh while going up, made you shiver.

you slipped a hand behind his head to guide him, impatient because you knew what he was capable of with his mouth.

he looked at you one last time, admiring the girl he was in love with then he plunged his head between your legs and inserted his tongue into your pussy.

you arch your back and moan his name. "chad. fuck keep going." you continued to moan louder and louder as he sucked, licked and shoved his tongue in.

hearing you moan made him harden, he was so hard that he had to palm himself through his jeans to relieve himself a little. it was sure that he was going to cum without you even touching him. just with the sounds you made.

when your moans became louder and louder he understood that you were going to cum so he continued to devour you until you reached orgasm.

once done. he got up and kissed you. you slipped a hand between the two of you and started to undo his belt but he pushed your hands away. you frown. "why ?" he smiled at you. "i heard what you said a little earlier. that you wanted to fuck, so here's what i'm going to do. i'm going to take you back to your apartment and fuck you until morning."

and chad was a man of his word. he had actually walked you home and then he had fucked you in all the positions he had imagined you in and on every surface of your apartment, from the kitchen, to the dining room table, to the sofa and to the bedroom. put it all to bed until morning. and the short time you slept, you didn't have a single nightmare.

✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚

[jxckchxmpi0n]

hey love, congratulations on 200!

i was wondering if you could do ethan landry with the prompt (please tell me that at least a part of it was real) some good old ghostface angst!

GOOD OLD GF ANGST! 🕸🔪 Thank you, love! I hope you enjoyed this! 🌼

Damaged Soul

Summary: Your boyfriend of almost a year isn't who he says he is. He's a killer, and he killed your love and your trust. | m.list

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: ANGST ANGST ANGST 😈. swearing, blood, character death, lying, cursing, (i want to say that's everything)

did not proof read.

also I'm making it through all the requests plus the new ones! AhHh

your heart sank as you watched Ethan take the Ghostface mask off, tears filling your eyes as they locked with his. Tara looked at you worried, "Never trust the love interest, right?" he had an evil grin on his face like he was proud he played you.

Bailey grabbed Ethan's shoulder and started talking about how proud he was of him for using you like Richie had done to Sam last year. "They grow up so fast don't they." your body felt frozen in time as you looked at Ethan, questioning everything in existence now.

Sam kept yelling at Bailey asking why they were doing this, Tara stood holding herself as she felt herself bleeding out.

You haven't been injured yet as bad as the sisters, and something was telling you it was about to get worse. Ethan and Quinn were now circling around you three while bailey gave his big speech.

"Ethan, why?" your voice was broken and cracking. Your body turned with his following his as he walked around.

"Don't you see y/n I needed excuses, econ wasn't always going to work, but being with you oo you knew. you knew what I was up to, yet you ignored it. All the late nights coming back to the apartment, y/n you were just an object to me. Nothing more, but God you know I will miss the sex." he shook the knife in your face as he got closer.

"I didn't know" You stepped back as he got closer, tears falling from your eyes. your back hit the wall. Bailey and Quinn were too busy with Sam and Tara. Letting Ethan have you to himself, "I didn't know!" you screamed in his face causing him to jump a little.

He lunged forward, his hand wrapping around your neck while the knife cut into your cheekbone. "It doesn't matter anymore sweetheart; did you know you weren't even part of the plan? hm? now, but Quinn you see Quinn came up with the idea of getting with you, seeing at how much you gave me heart eyes she knew it was a good idea."

"You're a monster!" your voice was broken, shattered even. your body ached as his hold tightened on you.

"No! I'm not the monster, Sam is okay she killed Richie she's the one that ruined our lives, if anything she ruined your life too" his eyes were glossy as he talked about his brother.

"She killed him in defense, while you have killed- three people" pushing yourself against the knife you felt it cut deeper into your face. You could feel the warmth of your blood running down your face, Ethan's eyebrows drew together as he noticed a change in you.

You were beyond angry now the fact that he used you, and yet deep down you knew you knew something was up, and yes Ethan was right you ignored it. but you can't anymore.

"You used me, Ethan, you killed people, if anything you ruined my life. You made me fall in love with you, you used my body, I trusted you with everything, and you stand here in front of me and you're telling me you aren't the monster?!"

You didn't need a weapon to scare him, you saw the fear he had in his eyes when he took the mask off. Seeing the look on your face when he realizes what he has done, he knows that you know he loves you and that behind closed doors he wanted this all to end.

He slowly stepped back as you stepped forward his hand loosed on you and the knife. you were getting inside his head. "I hate you; I hate you and I want you to fail, I want you and your whole family to die."

"Y/n I-I had no choice it was my father's plan" his eyes were getting watery by the second. your hands balled up into fists.

"Fuck you!" you punched him in the face causing him to fly back, dropping the knife. Baily was chasing Sam on the stage while Quinn cornered Tara.

"You fucking dumbass Ethan get the fuck up" Quinn shouted at Ethan as she saw him on the floor. You took the chance to run to Tara, she had a stab wound in her abdomen and on her arm. She had it worse than you.

"Y/n you have to get out of here, find help" Tara tried to push you away but failed. The sound of screaming and shouting filled the auditorium as Sam was fighting Bailey.

"God as much as I hate you killing you is going to be so fun" Quinn was behind you waving her knife, and you pushed Tara away motioning her to go help her sister.

Ethan was standing behind his sister watching as she was getting closer. "No Quinn, she's mine let me have her" she looked back at her brother seeing the way he was looking at you. Not only did he have the look to kill you, but he also still has lust written all over his face.

"You've got to be kidding me, you can't really have feelings for this bitch," Ethan was trying to justify that he never had feelings for you. Looking around you saw broken glass, picking it up took the shard, and stabbed Quinn in the back. she screamed out in pain; Ethan ran forward and without thinking he pulled you off of her.

Taking the Kinfe Quinn he pulled his arm back, the sharp end meeting with your stomach. You screamed right into his ear, his heart breaking as he felt your blood pouring onto his hand. "Do it Ethan" Quinn watched holding her side as he twisted the knife and pulled it up creating a deeper cut. "I'm sorry y/n I'm so sorry" he held your body close as you couldn't even make any noise from the pain.

"Please tell me at least some of it was real?" your face was ghostly white, your cheeks stained with tears and blood. Your body is already feeling so weak, you weren't going to make it but

"Yes, it was, y/n it was real, and I-I love you. I always will love you" Tears were streaming down his face as he felt your body go limp. He had just killed the one person that ever understood him. He shouldn't have done it; he shouldn't have done any of it. he set you down looking at your face. You looked nothing like you did when he was with you at nighttime.

"Ethan let her go, dad needs us" Quinn pushed him with her foot causing him to lean closer to you. He wiped his tears, got up and followed his sister.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Quick Maintenance

Time Written - 11:42 p.m

(Idk where I was going with this, so it isn’t proofread.)

—

Your heavy eyes blinked, slipping in an out of mental focus from the soft snip snip near your right side. Minor tufts of wet hair trickled down your shoulder, sliding along your freshly washed graphic shirt.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up to keep a level field as focused eyes squinted to study his work.

Calloused hands held thin, little shears he pulled out from the bathroom drawer, snipping away at little uneven pieces of hair he left unchecked.

Work, school, the sheer stress of wondering what kind of person you were in this world would get to you. You weren’t always like this, priding yourself on not caring what the world thought, meanwhile beaming like a ray of sunshine to all those who knew you once you stepped out the door.

One of the toughest enemies you could ever face in your lifetime, who knows every gruesome detail of your agony, every weak bone in your body, holding each detail of your flawed skin to memory, was the teary eyed person that stared back at you in the mirror.

Some days you barely had the strength to get out of bed, brush your hair, or get some water.

If you didn’t have a bodyguard of a worrisome, golden retriever boyfriend leading you towards the bathroom for a haircut, bedrotting would’ve remained a much easier task.

Dick didn’t force you to cut your hair, the idea came to you before you took a shower. Maybe a minor change was needed, something new within your control to make you feel a little better. You came to him after your long, hot shower with said offer, the man slouched on the couch with brow raised.

“Can you help me cut my hair?” You asked, presenting him with some old scissors you fished out from under the sink.

What an offer to receive on such a late evening. Dick never felt happier to see you out of bed, hair wet and changed into a pair of fresh clothes. All anxiety for you melted off his shoulders, sparing his thumbnails from being chewed on a second longer.

“Of course,” he rises from the couch, said old scissors now in his hand. Now, he sat you ontop of the toilet, gently tilting your head side to side with care to make sure every cut was as clean and even as possible.

A favor for a favor, he thought. You helped him cut his hair when it looked way too outgrown to your liking, way past ‘sexy mullet,’ in obvious words. Nowadays, keeping his hair at jawline was both for preference and convenience, though maintenance would’ve been a pain if not for you.

You offered to cut it for him the first few times, he always questioned why. Gotham cuts hair starting at at least twenty five dollars, which he could obviously afford, but having your pretty fingers run through his locks? He’s trusted no one else since.

“Twenty five bucks is twenty five bucks.”

“Twenty five bucks could be spent on dinner for your stylist,” you’d muse, cute brows bowed in deep concentration on getting the length just right. Your prized perfectionist skills left him feeling in good hands.

“I’m proud of you, y’know,” he says to you, voice lowered to a concentrated level that soothed your ears. Any accomplishment you do on one of your bad days was a gold star in Dick’s book.

His support of soft, comforting words of praise acted like a chamomile balm on a soothing ache. Your mind eventually would be soothed, lulling you into a state of affection he provided so well, sometimes reducing you to tears.

“Though, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t use my body wash.” He mumbles, now using some smaller, much thinner scissors to catch the tiny wisps he missed, taking after your perfectionist tendencies.

A trickle of a smile lasted a few seconds on your lips. “Today didn’t feel like a ‘sea salt and cedar’ day, Richie.”

“Guess that’s fair, least you’re wearing my shirt,” his cheeky grin was contagious, your heart warming at the joy that erupted in his eyes in witness to your gorgeous smile.

“There. All done, beautiful.” Dick concludes, brushing remnants of hair off your shoulder before his thumb stroked along your cheekbone, planting a kiss on your forehead.

A short two step to the bathroom sink left you staring at yourself in the mirror once more, your desired length now becoming reality.

In all honesty, you didn’t exactly like the length of the haircut. Picturing it differently in your mind had you assuming more grand expectations on the outcome.

It wasn’t all new, but it was different, a good different. A good, new you, one you’d appreciate and cherish, because that’s what you always deserved.

Besides, Dick Grayson, your puppy eyed golden retriever would make sure you were satisfied with the outcome. How could you say you didn’t like it to such a handsome face? Impossible.

“How’s takeout sound?” He questioned, watching your hands busy themselves by brushing through your new hair, feeling visibly softer along your fingertips.

“I’m thinking … something spicy.” He slips an arm over your front accompanying a soft squeeze, gifting you a smile through the mirror’s reflection. “It feels like a spicy day, yeah?”

“Anything Sounds delicious,” you admitted, your body recognizing and remembering what hunger felt like after hours of feeling numb under soft blankets and pungent silence.

“Gotcha, I’ll call up a place.” Dick steps to the side, allowing you room before reaching for the sink drawer.

“Where’d you get these scissors, anyway? They’re so tiny.”

“Oh,” you quickly recall the memory, an event quite a long while ago while on an essentials stop at a local corner side pharmacy.

“Accidentally forgot to pay for them,” you hesitantly admit, recalling the particular day. Maybe you’d forgotten to pay for an eyebrow kit that came with an adorably small pair of gold trimming scissors.

“My girlfriend, the thief,” Dick repeats with feigned surprise, shaking his head in mocked disbelief.

“Ima have to report you for this,” he smirks, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. “How much were these, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Like, seven bucks?”

“Huh,” Dick clicks his tongue before plopping said scissors back into their designated drawer, promptly sliding it shut.

“Seven bucks is seven bucks.”

[dearhargrove]

"You have to shoot them in the head, or they always come back."

Ethan Landry x f!reader (not specified I think tho)

summary You knew you had to do this, he was a killer. You had to end this when you had the chance. But standing here with a gun to your boyfriend's head - no matter what he's done - you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

word count 1,200

warnings swearing, talk of killing someone, spoilers for scream 6, VERY immoral & unrealistic but it's fanfiction soo

a/n I'm not that happy with this so it's kinda a WIP. But just… posted. If this does get some notes; thank you for reading! I promise my other stuff is better.

masterlist

navigation

You had thought out all kinds of possible outcomes to the plan of waiting out Ghostface at the shrine of the two students (whose names you'd already forgotten). However, not once had you considered having to execute your boyfriend.

Beneath you lay Ethan, blood pooling from his mouth and brown puppy eyes watery and bloodshot.

Sam and Tara were fighting the only other remaining person behind the recent murders, Detective Bailey.

It had all happened too fast; Sam hit Ethan in the head with a brick before she and Tara tried making an escape through the emergency exit. In the chaos of the past moments you'd simply stood to the side, shocked that the boy you loved and had spent your past months with was the one behind the mask.

A whimper of your name pulls you out of your thoughts and your eyes clear, focusing on the curly haired boy beneath you.

There were tears running down his cheeks, chin quivering and gaze pleading, "Please… don't do this."

You shake your head to try and keep the empathy from overpowering your rationality. "Ethan, I have to…You have to shoot them in the head, or they always come back," you recall with a shaking voice.

You didn't want to do this. You wanted to go home and cuddle with your boyfriend who wasn't a killer. He shakes his head and winces, weakly clutching a hand to your pants. Your knees are shaky so you end up sinking to kneel next to his heaving chest, his hand falling to your thigh instead.

The gun in your hand is still aimed in his direction, safety off.

"Come on, baby, please," he begs, trying to look into your eyes but you avoid his gaze and look to the blood stained floor. "Ethan, you killed people I can't-," a sob leaves your mouth and you clutch your free hand over it to stop your crying.

He sobs as well and shakes his head as well as he can, "No, no, no..! I didn't want to. I didn't wanna do this. Believe me!" He cries and your heart breaks a little more. Just from the way Bailey talked earlier and totally dismissed Ethan you had a good guess at their relationship and how much Ethan had wanted to do what he's done.

You purse your lips and sniff, looking back at him. "Explain. Why did you do it then?" He breathes raggedly but he'd be able to survive - if you let him. He swallows and tries calming his breathing, hand still on your thigh.

"He- Dad made me. I just wanted him to be proud of me. Like he was always proud of… Richie," he admits, the name of his deceased brother a painful whisper. You pull your eyebrows together in confusion and wait for him to continue. His face is scrunched up - whether from the physical pain he was feeling or from the memories he was recounting.

"He told me if I wanted to be as good as Richie I had to do what he said. Follow the plan." He slowly looks at you again, pausing for a few seconds. He reaches out with his blood coated hand and clings to yours, fingers closing around your pinky and ring finger.

He felt relief and a sliver of hope fill his chest when you let him hold your hand, his thumb resting on the promise ring on your ring finger he had gotten you not too long ago.

He averts his eyes again and continues explaining, though his voice seems to get weaker by the minute. "I did everything but… killing. Quinn did that. We would switch after I chased them somewhere she could.. finish it." He winces again.

"I didn't kill anyone except Anika. And that was an accident. I didn't want to make her fall, I just wanted her to struggle! I didn't want to kill her, you have to believe me! I didn't want to," he whimpers and tears start running down his cheeks again.

You sigh and let your head fall, chin touching your chest. He deserved to pass away here, with the rest of his family.

But you love him. And no matter how many times you recall him and what he did while wearing the mask you can't bring yourself to pull the trigger.

You put the safety back on the gun and push it far enough away from you. "I should kill you," you remind him with a quiet voice. He nods and fully turns his head to look at you. He calls your name but you don't want to look up; you know you would fold at the sight of his brown eyes.

He says your name again, almost pleading now. It makes your heart ache so you look up and into his eyes. He grunts painfully as he scoots back and sits up against a display case, when he's sat up straight he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek. His palm is cold and shaky, blood making his grip slippery.

"I love you. You made me feel like I could-" he chokes and coughs, spitting some blood to the side before he keeps talking, "-like I could be enough by just… being myself. I fell for you. So hard."

You're looking into each other's eyes when he finishes his confession, "I can't live without you. I don't want to. So please tell me you won't leave me after this."

You grimace. He may have done way less than all of you originally thought but he still ended the life of Mindy's girlfriend and one of your closest friends. You knew he felt guilty. You could see the regret and pain from knowing he had caused her fall.

But none of that cancels out that he did it.

"I love you. And… maybe I can forgive you someday. But, Ethan… Even if the others also forgive you, Mindy never will. And she has every right not to."

He nods and you both pretend not to have heard his slight whimper at your first sentence. "I need you to forgive me. I can't keep going without you…" he says again and your chest throbs. You're torn between what you want and what you should want and do.

Noone in their right mind would forgive him or even let him live. But you were in love and too empathetic for your own good. Sighing defeatedly you lean into his palm and look into his eyes, "You have one chance to make it up to me. To everyone. If they accept you is up to them, not me."

He sighs out in relief, another tear escaping him as he mumbles 'thank you's under his breath.

[twagoes]

old man | richie jerimovich x reader -> written with a male reader in mind ! dont read/interact if uncomfy with that fact lmao

cw: cursing, duh it's richie, uhm age gap relationship hence the title being "old man"...., richie is insecure bc of his age and u soften him up <3, suggestive comment here and there (i think it was a total of one or two),

“what the fuck is this shit even supposed to do?” richie complains, but you can't take him seriously with the way he's so focused on applying the face mask.

“y’know, it does the shit,” you reply, obviously not thinking it important to explain to your boyfriend who really doesn't care or see it as a threat.

“wow, so we are basically lathering ourselves in deadly chemicals and not asking why now? okay, okay, cool,” he tips his hand back into the mixture and bumps your hip with his, “hey, i better wash this off looking like look a fucking newborn baby.”

you turn to look at him, going on your tippy toes to kiss his neck in a quick peck, “you won't, but that's okay because i like your scruffy look - it suits you,” you wash your hands as he just sighs at your sweet compliment that he simply doesn't know how to react to. he's still not used to receiving such sweet words, practically daily. it’s been a while since he's felt such love. it really does make him feel flustered.

which is why he doesn't mind entertaining these little things you suggest to do as a couple that he genuinely has no clue about.

“c’mon, baby, let's let this dry then wash it off,” you take his bigger hand in yours, guiding him to the living where you plopped onto the couch. he takes a seat beside you, propping his leg up on the coffee table and resting his arm behind you on the couch. you casually throw your leg over his as you grab the remote.

he smiles as you put on his favorite show, knowing you're trying hard to appease him to make up for this silly face mask debacle.

“wait, come closer,” you shuffle where you sit, leaning your face so close to his and he playfully rolls his eyes when he sees the reason why.

“always on your damn phone.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t shift away even though he very easily could do so.

“woah, that was a good dad one-liner, kinda giving me trauma,” you shoot back, flicking his forehead and positioning your camera again, “smile or i’ll kill you,”

he squeezed your hip, “so romantic,”

you smile for the camera as he makes a deadpan expression. you take multiple and eventually he finds himself smiling too, happy to see you so happy.

“aww, you're so cute,” you coo, getting comfortable in his arms again and scrolling through the different photos you've taken.

he watches over your shoulder, a feeling of pride swell in his chest as he sees you send it to a group chat with your friends as well as your personal favorite making it to your public instagram story. he didn’t really use his social media, but he knew how active you were on it, so knowing that you were sharing your relationship so openly on there made him feel proud and just generally happy.

to know that you don’t hesitate to show that you’re his and he’s yours. it makes him feel like a teenager in love all over again.

after the face mask dries down, you tell him it’s time to wash it off and he complies with zero complaints. it’s quiet as you wash it all away, laughing when you see he missed a big portion near his hairline. it almost ends in you two just throwing water at each other since you accidentally almost drowned him with a rough splash to his face. but after apologizing and kissing him repeatedly, he refrained from counter attacking you.

now, it was seriously time for bed and richie clung tightly to your side. for his tall and long stature, he sure was unaware of it. or, rather, chose to ignore it as he practically suffocated you with his leg over your stomach and arms over your chest.

“baby, i can barely breathe here,” you speak in a rushed down, letting out an exaggerated wheeze as you breathe out. he shakes his head, kissing your shoulder and stubbornly doesn’t move from his position. “i love you so much, but i do want to wake up tomorrow morning, please.”

he groans childishly before moving himself off of you and shifts to give you some space.

“i didn’t say completely back off, idiot,” you move in to him, resting your head on his shoulder and hugging his waist, “just wanted your heavy ass leg to stop suffocating me, love,”

“so you’re calling me fat?” he shoots back, making you chuckle.

“shut up, you know what i mean,” he watches as your hand travels down his chest, to the bottom of his shirt. and you hesitate for a moment, for reasons he doesn’t know, before moving your soft hand to touch his stomach. you glide your hand up and down several times, smiling at the feeling of the short hair he has on his abdomen.

he moves his thumb and down your shoulder, clearing his throat before speaking, “can i ask you something?”

“of course,” you reply in a heartbeat, your hand not faltering in its soft movements.

“why are you with an old guy like me?” it’s a question he’s had in the back of his mind ever since you two started seeing each other. “you…you’re so amazing and so young, you got your whole life ahead of you,” he sighs, lifting his head off of the pillow and looking down at your now confused face, “don’t you ever get tired of dealing with an old man that doesn’t even know what a face mask is? can’t do all the cute couple-y shit a young person could do?”

you’re immediately sitting upright, a sad smile on your face, “richie, please, don’t think like that,” he looks at you with a tired expression, finding your comment a deflection rather than a proper answer. and he feels uncomfortable asking something of you, but he needs to know. because it has been slowly eating away at him. “i mean it, richard. don’t let those bullshit ideas get to your head.”

you cup his face in your hands, making him hold your wrist in a soft grip. your eyes seem to have gotten teary, for whatever reason and he frowns at the sight.

“i love you so much, i love every second we spend together. those are not wasted seconds to me, richie. i am not wasting my time or anything like that by being in a relationship with you. and! i don’t care whether or not you’re old or if you don't understand certain things. i could give less than two shits about stuff like that,” you both laugh at that, but the smile still isn’t reaching your eyes.

“easier said than done, babe,” he sighs, looking down, but you immediately redirect his eyes to meet yours once again.

“i know it must be, but seriously, i mean it when i say: i don’t care about how old you are, richie, all i know is that i love you. i love us,” you kiss him softly and he melts into the affection, feeling you smile against his lips, “you said how my life is just beginning and i got all of it ahead of me?” he nods against your forehead, “well, i see myself spending the rest of my life with you. i can’t imagine myself in the future without you, richie,”

“i do too, baby, i do too,” he admits, sincerity in his deep blue eyes, “i just don’t want you regretting-“

“richie, i could never regret anything if it involves you, our relationship, us. this is the best thing to happen to me,” you laugh as if it’s an easy topic to brush off, but it’s genuine and raw.

“i love you,” he confessed after playing with your fingers for a couple of seconds, “love you too much, it scares me,”

“you can go on and keep telling me how much you love me,” you tease, scooting closer and smoothing out his short hair underneath your hand, “no, seriously, i love hearing you say it,”

“i love you,” he repeats in an instant, smiling wide to see you get ever so slightly flustered, “i love you so much,” he takes in how handsome you look, tracing your cheek with the back of his fingers. he smiles as you lean in closer, tilting his head up to maintain eye contact.

“i love you too,” and then you’re kissing again, smiling into each other. your hand cups over his jaw and stubble as his rests on your waist.

“love you more,” he mumbles against your lips. you break out into laughter, pushing him down onto the bed.

“i love you the most,”

“alright, shut the fuck up now,” he brings you down to rest directly on his chest. “can’t keep doing this back and forth shit with you, i love you to infinity or whatever the fuck. do kids even say that nowadays?”

you smile so easily with richie, it makes you eternally grateful how lucky you got.

“oh and by the way,” you turn so your chin is resting on his chest and he hums in response, looking down at you, “don’t keep referring to yourself as an old man likes it’s bad. i love it about you, you’re perfect and mature and not a complete jack off like every other man i’ve met,”

he takes in your words for a moment before nodding, succumbing to the cute pleading look in your eyes, “alright, you’re the bossman. won’t happen again.” you were about to leave it at that, satisfied with his compliance. but then you decided to amp it up a little bit more, wanting to make your boyfriend as comfortable and confident as possible.

“your age also makes you sexier than anyone else i’ve ever met too, soooo,” your voice trails off as he smirks, giggling at the way his facial expression practically flipped. stroking his ego always put him in a good mood. plus, you never lied when you did it.

“oh, is it really?” he cups your face, hand resting underneath your chin as his thumb and pointer finger gently squeeze your cheeks.

“it really is,” you affirm, making him feel even more pleased and comfortable in himself. “i love a man with experience, y’know,”

“hm, wouldn’t have been able to guess that one,” he teases, winking to allude to your many, many nights together.

“oh, shut up, you old fuck,”

“woah! way to kill the mood! weren’t we supposed to not be calling me that anymore?” his signature laugh fills the room at your comeback, squishing your cheeks together before gently pushing your face to the side.

“no, just you and anyone else, i’m still allowed to — because i do it lovingly!” you justify, a grin evident on your face with some hint of mischievousness in your eyes.

“sooo lovingly! i love when you call me an old fuck, really has my heart skippin’ beats, baby,” his voice drips with sarcasm, but no hint of being genuinely hurt by your words. he’s been reassured securely in how you truly don’t mind his age, so he doesn’t feel doubt or paranoia creep in anymore when you call him “old” in any context.

you kiss his scruffy cheek, “i’ll kill anyone that calls you old, though, you just tell me and i’ll take care of them, i swear to go-“

“alright, alright, i get it, let’s just go to bed now,” he teases, kissing the top of your head that’s resting on his chest again. right where it belongs.

“i’m serious, y’know?”

“i know you are, sweetheart, and if that time ever comes, i’ll lend you my piece so you can properly take care of ‘em,” you chuckle and kiss his chest before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and the both of you fell asleep cuddled into each other with content smiles on your faces. unknowingly dreaming of the same thing: a future together, side by side.

[angelcakestarlet]

salvatore part 3.5

richie jerimovich x reader

warnings: age gap, cheating, alc, swearing.

here's the second part to part 3 of salvatore. ty for all the love guys!! leave me any suggestions

you walked into the dimly light bar with tina as she flung her hands into the air to make your guys' presence known. you immediately spotted richie eyeing you down from his seat next to carmy at the bar, sipping on a beer slowly. you walked up to the group with tina, still feeling his eyes on you. it's not that things had been tense since that night, rather now all his comments felt like he was playing a game with you. like he knew something worth making you feel guilty over. "ok girl, we see you!" sydney pronounced giving you a proud look, you let out a grin at the compliment taking a little spin around yourself, "what can i say". "okay baby, it's tradition that the newbie has to buy everyone a round of shots." marcus looked over at you, you sighed dramatically throwing your head back. "make it a body shot" richie yelled out, earning a shove from carmy. "fine, i'll get to it." you approached the bartender asking for 6 tequila shots. "alright, cheers to... me!" you giggled, throwing back your first shot. after a couple drinks, compliments from the bartender who kept staring down your dress, and begging sydney to join you on the dance floor, you were out there twirling around yourself with your hands gliding over your own skin that was shining under the lights. "baby gets fucked up fast" carmy laughed into his drink. you turned your head at the sound of his voice, meeting eyes with richie's. they looked dark beneath the bar lights, a deep set look on his face as he gripped his beer. you walked towards him, a little wobbly as you made your way through the floor. "richieee" you came up to him, tugging on his arm and pulling him up from his chair. "what do you need from me, sweetheart." he let out a low snicker, looking down at you and your intoxicated state. you feign a hurt gasp, "i just want you to dance with me, what are you too old?" you giggled, letting out a small hiccup. richie grinned, "old? motherfucker, you hear this?" he looks back at carmy, "let this old man show you a good time then." he pushed you slightly towards the floor. you made him spin you a couple times till you got dizzy and eventually were gripping onto his strong forearm and throwing your head back onto his chest. richie could smell the alcohol coming from you being laced with your sweet strawberry perfume he had familiarized himself with. your hand slowly began making it's way up richie's arm, tracing it with your fingertips you let out a small laugh. "what's so funny, doll?" he spoke beside your head, letting the hot breath fan over your ear. "nothing," you stay swaying, hands still all over his arm. "well it can't be nothing, you can tell me..." he spoke to you with that tone in his voice that felt like he was coaxing an answer out of you. "your arm's just really nice" he bit down on his lip at your response, "oh really?" he replied amused almost. "and your hands, i like watching you in the kitchen, cutting shit up you know." he swore he could hear you let out a small shudder at the end of your sentence. it made him smirk, watching you spill your secrets so easily when asked. he looked down at your face and captured your eyes fixated on the trail your fingers left along his arm, the lost look you held in them making him let out a quick 'fuck' beneath his breath. not before looking over at the others at the bar and making sure they were busy chatting amongst themselves, he collected your hair and brought it all to the side of your neck. feeling you shiver at his touch, he clasped the back of your neck with his big hand and leaned down, "what would your uh boyfriend think if he saw you like this, y/n?". you pray he doesn't notice the low whimper you let out at the close proximity and the threatening use of your name. unfortunately for you, it's music to his hears, "you'd like that, huh? god you're sick, sweetheart". you turn around to face him, your breathing heavy. you felt like his energy was consuming you, the way his jaw clenched, the light smirk playing on him lips, it was all too much.

“i’m getting another drink” you rip your body away from him, swallowing hard. “i think you’ve had enough to drink, baby.” his voice follows you, “fine then take me home, richie”. he sighs and brings a hand to his forehead, “you know i can’t do that” he looks back at everyone, noticing tina and carmy had already head home and only marcus and sydney were left chatting at the bar. you suddenly take his shirt gently between your hands and look up with him, your lipstick shining and eyes glossy “please richie”. he couldn’t resist the slight whine your voice held. he wanted to do the right thing, but you make it so hard. you both make your way back to the bar, “baby’s off her ass, i’m gonna call her boyfriend and make sure she gets home.” richie says to the two, as they take in the image before them. sydney and marcus knew richie could be, well richie, but they trusted him enough to not let anything happen to you. "take care of her richie, please.” sydney gestured towards you. “bye guys, love you!” you let out quickly before making your way out with richie guiding you. standing outside in the cold you hugged yourself, “what’s your guys number so we can get you home?” richie said as he pulled out his phone. “i don’t want to go with him right now”. “what, why the fuck not?” he asked puzzled, “i just want to go with you richie, please?”.

who was he to deny you?

[ifangirlalot]

Hi! Can you do 10, protective with Richie tozier or Boris pavlikovsky X male! Reader?

(also can I be 🏳️‍⚧️anon?)

╭─────────────────────────.★..─╮ (\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ╭・🎈 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐙𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𓂃❨˖ ₊ ⊹ ━O━O━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ・:。𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝! 「 ✉️ 」・:三 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ╭┈ • ┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈ • ┈╮ ˚୨୧⋆ 𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: protective ｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆ 𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘗𝘛: "how long has it been since you've eaten?" ｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: richie tozier x male!reader ｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆ 𝘙𝘌𝘘𝘜𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘋: 🏳️‍⚧️ nonnie ｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆ 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘛 𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎(𝘚): reader has an eating problem (can be assumed to be an ED, but doesn't have to be ｡˚ ⋆ ╰┈ • ┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈ • ┈╯ ╰─..★.─────────────────────────╯

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Richie Tozier was not an observant guy. At least, not usually. He could probably walk right through a tornado and not have the foggiest idea until it was too late. But that all changed when it came to his loved ones. For instance, he was well aware that his boyfriend [Name] had issues with eating. He had first noticed during lunch at school one day. [Name] was just pushing the food around his tray with his fork, not eating it, just sort of.. rearranging it so that it looked like he had been. In fact, that was what he was doing now. His fork swirled different patterns into his food, but Richie noticed that not one single bit of it made its way to his mouth. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Richie asked quietly, not taking his eyes off his pretty boy. Surprised, [Name] dropped his fork. "Sorry, what?" "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Richie repeated, slower this time. He fully expected a lie. He didn't get one, but [Name] didn't answer, which told him everything he needed to know. Richie nodded his head, pursing his lips slightly. "Thought so... Okay, I've got a proposition. How about we eat together, yeah? You take a bit of your food, it doesn't have to be a big, giant bite of nothin' like that, just a little one. And when you swallow it and show me you did, I'll give you a kiss." And this new technique worked wonders. [Name] took a small spoonful of food into his mouth and Richie watched with pride and adoration as he chewed and slowly swallowed. [Name] opened his mouth to show Richie he had swallowed and Richie smiled and leaned forward to peck his boyfriend's lips. "There now, see? So good. 'M so proud of you, baby. Okay, can you give me just a few more bites, please?"

[the-halls-of-hatchetfield-high]

(ahhh my favorite hatchetfield rp blog!! Yes sorry havent been here in a while)

Stay silent for 5 minutes challenge first one to talk needs to have their face drawn on

Winner gets my wallet for an hour muahahhaaha

-🌌

*Steph and Max smirk, Richie and Ruth stifle a giggle, Pete smiles softly, and Grace, well-*

Grace: Stay SILENT?

*Steph and Ruth lock eyes, a mischievous silent communication passing between them*

Steph: Who cares about the money, I am going to enjoy this...

*She steps closer to Grace, opening her hand to Ruth who silently hands her a liquid eyeliner.*

*Grace's eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender*

Grace: Lauter? What are you- Hey, back off with that!

*As Steph and Ruth chase Grace around the room, Richie and Pete hold back giggles, but Richie eventually breaks, his joyful, goofy laugh filling the room*

Richie: *between hysterical giggles* d-damn it, th-that's too f-funny...

Ruth: *from the adjoining room* Hey, give me that! My turn! *evil laughter*

*This leaves Max and Pete in the contest for the wallet. Or it would have, if Grace hadn't re-entered the room, her face decorated lovingly so that it appeared that she had a thick unibrow, a moustache, and the words "My boyfriend is Jesus Christ" written on her forehead in thick eyeliner*

*Max, Pete, and Richie share shocked glances before the room erupts in laughter. He can't help it, before he can stop himself, Max's amused voice booms throughout the room*

Max: Holy SHIT, that's the best thing I've ever- *Max takes out his phone, snapping a photo of Grace's current appearance*

Grace: *Gasps* BLASPHEMY! Jägerman you take that back this instant!

*This sends the room into another fit of laughter, Richie, Ruth, and Pete clutching their stomachs as Grace hopelessly tries to take Max's phone off him, meanwhile Steph leans against the doorway, her arms crossed and a proud smirk on her face*

// asdaajsbfkajgba your fave blog?? my HEART <3333 //

[lovemikage]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ; 𝐠. 𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n — i am…rusty so forgive me that this is so short! but i wanted to get smth out for my shawties and bc my gil brainrot is sooooo bad .. anyway enjoy! pink lady!reader, reader is latina, fem!reader <3 for @cyansadness sorry this took like eight million years </3

summary — a look into your relationship with your favorite boy, gil rizzo.

wc — 620

“hey hey hey, did’ya really think i’d let you get out without me doin’ it for you? c’mon, get back in.”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows are knit together tightly in a way you could think of as disappointed if it wasn’t for the little smirk playing at his lips.

you give him a long look, one eyebrow raised because seriously? he cannot be serious right now.

but he is, and you both stare at each other for a moment before you let out a dramatic groan and clamber back into the driver’s side of your car.

“y’know, rizzo —“ you speak as you duck back in, closing the door and clasping your hands politely in your lap, “if you had just picked me up then we wouldn’t even be havin’ this problem—“

“—that’s not my fault!” gil’s response comes out faster than you can even finish your sentence, his tone laced with offense, “i had to drop betty off today! and she was very upset she couldn’t see you, by the way, talked my ear off the entire drive about how it wasn’t fair that she ‘had to be stuck with her idiot brother and not his cool girlfriend’. personally i think it’s gotta be that time of the month or somethin’ because—“

gil cuts himself off the second he sees the glare you give him, immediately holding his hands up, “sorry, sorry! i’ll stop talking, i should definitely stop talking.”

“proud of you, you never realize it that quickly.” you grin, watching him open your car door and reaching your hand out in a very practiced gesture. the feel of his larger hand holding yours is familiar, comforting, and you can’t help but feel your face heat up at the touch. quickly you deflect, “and make sure to tell betty i’ll take her out for a manicure soon. no icky boys invited.”

gil holds his heart as if he’s been shot and the giggle it pulls from you is completely unintentional.

how annoying. you’ve been with gil for how long and he still makes you feel like a little girl writing “mrs. richie valdovinos <3” in your diary (if anyone reminds gil of this he might kill them).

gil closes the door behind you and you smile up at him, already turning so he can help you put your favorite article of clothing on — your pretty pink jacket. nancy had even added a sweet heart next to your name, as per your request (though she had to let you know she hated it).

“thank you, amor.” you grin, going onto your tip toes so you can press a soft kiss to his lips. his hands come to rest on your waist and when you pull back the bright blush on his cheeks is evident in spite of his efforts to hide it. you like him like this, vulnerable and sweet and hopelessly lovesick.

the second your lips touch again you pause, leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him, “baby, what time is it?”

“two thirty, pretty girl, why?”

“god dammit, i’ve got class — walk me there?”

gil shoots you a grin that reminds you of the day you two met and you fell in love, nodding and quickly spinning you so you two can start walking.

his hand finds its way to what seems like its forever home, the back pocket of your blue jeans, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest; it’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to, but to you that’s not a bad thing.

it just means that gil rizzo will always have the annoyingly endearing ability to make you remember exactly why you fell in love in the first place.

tagging some of my rotpl babes (i’m sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged but I figured you’d like it </3): @sirenlulls @angeltails @fabiolajyx

[yezzyyae]

@sula1956 this is a proud 35 yrs old black woman!!!! I’m not a troll & I have been in a real life love relationship with my boyfriend for the last 6 1/2 years! So I hope yall go outside & learn real love because Carmy & Sydney is not a romantic couple. They have NOTHING IN COMMON BUT FOOD! DID YALL DISMISS THE FACT THAT SYDNEY HAS NEVER OFFERED HER CONDOLENCES TO CARMY ONE TIME IN 2 SEASONS SO FUCK OFF LIKE SHE IS THIS SAVIOR! Sydney is selfish!

And please stop blaming racism when people are stating facts! Sydney & Carmy have nothing in common I mean literally nothing but food & Sydney can’t even cook that good & she can’t handle pressure. And yall Carmy x Syd shippers are ruining the show because it’s so much bigger than a cheesy love story about 2 ppl that are literally PLATONIC! Please grow up & stop ruining the story because it is so important for society! Plus yall shippers are LIARS LEGIT ASS LIARS, it’s not one scene where Carmy is looking lovingly in Sydney’s eyes! There is not 1 scene where Sydney is staring at Carmy lovingly foh yall are liars! Sydney is a clinging ass only child who wants Carmy to herself smh she is not jealous of Claire over Carmy, yall dumb asses! Sydney is jealous because she is clinging and she thought she would have Carmy all to herself while building “The Bear” & its menu! That’s not romantic love yall Damnn kids it’s clinging “only child” behavior!

And Carmy has never had family, friends, a girlfriend, employees or a restaurant to run all at the same time. So for Sydney to be mad that Carmy was spending time with Claire is selfish & weird & I hope I am never like her ever in my life! Carmy cut everybody off in his life when he was in NY but this time he hasn’t so people need to give him room in case he makes an error! I hate that Richie & Sydney judged Carmy so harshly when he was doing his very best to satisfy everybody around him. But @sula1956 don’t ever tell me I am not a 35 yr old black woman! Because I am and I wear my blackness as a badge of honor!

[xxxninjaxxx23]

A girl and her crush!

Part 1

Tara x Ethan

In the quiet town of Woodsboro California, 18 year old Tara Carpenter is at home cooking a big meal after hearing that Sam, her older sibling is coming over for a visit. It’s been about 5 years since Sam left for college in Modesto. It took a while but she managed to get a bachelors degree in law firm. She now works as a lawyer and a “damn good one too” as Tara quotes it.

The little sibling herself is almost about to finish high school and her father Stu Macher couldn’t be more proud. Ah yes, ever since her mother Christina Carpenter died of cirrhosis (a result to the past drinking) Stu made it his mission to raise his only daughter and her half sibling. The word “half” shocked the young sister when Stu told her that Sam’s father is his former best friend Billy Loomis.

From the stories she heard from her dad and Sam, Billy was an awful parent. He was always high on drugs or messing around in clubs rather than help take care of his own family and when he was home, he always lashed out at Christina over small things like someone taking the last orange or something not being cleaned.

Sam was no exception and has too suffered Billy’s wrath to where Christina would use makeup to cover up Sam’s bruises. Eventually Billy left the family and never came back. Stu used to check up on them every now and then, even berated Billy for beating his own family. He once got into a deadly fight with the said friend but despite Stu being taller and more fit, Billy’s strength tripled with drugs in his system and sometimes it took even Christina’s help to stop him.

Nevertheless, Stu and Christina kept each other company. One thing led to another and eventually Tara was born.

Tara didn’t realize how much she zoned on until she heard the smoke alarm go off “Ahh! Oh no, no!” Tara quickly turned off the oven and took out the garlic bread. It was a bit overcooked and looked very crunchy.

Stu ran into the kitchen “Tara What was that? Are you overcooking the food again?” He said with a sly smile. Tara giggled, her dad has always been a goofball always up for fun and jokes. “Um the garlic bread might be a little crunchy. But at least the pasta is ok.”

Stu smiled “Look at you already cooking meals by the age of 18.” He stared off into the window “If only your mother could have seen you now.” Tara nodded. She knew Stu was still grieving along with her as well. Christina wasn’t as bad as Billy was if you take away the bottles.

‘It’s actually Billy’s fault that mom started drinking heavily, eventually leading to her death’ Tara thought.

Then the pair hear the doorbell ring. Stu picks up the spoon and seasons the pasta “There’s your sister! I’ll take it from here sweetie, why don’t you show the guests to their table?” Tara nodded “Sure thing Mr chef.” She said before heading to the front door.

Tara opens the door where she’s greeted by Sam and a tall man with a beard. “Sam!!” Tara said hugging her as Sam hugged back. “Tara!! It’s been so long.” She takes another look at Tara. “My gosh. Look how much you’ve grown.”

The bearded man speaks up “Grown as in more mature right?” Tara shot a glare at him “Ha,ha. I may be small but I can still bite if I need to.” She said making a bite gesture at him.

Sam lightly slaps his shoulder “Richie!” Then turning over to Tara “O-K before this gets awkward. Tara this is Richie, my boyfriend. Richie this is my sister, Tara”

“Pleased to meet you “little” sister.” Tara got mad again but shook his hand a little rough “If you call me little or short one more time, I’ll tear your arm off.” Richie smiled “Well we don’t want that to happen now do we?”

Tara led the couple to the table as dinner was just about ready “I’ll go get the plates, don’t get too comfortable at dinner you two.” Tara said laughing as Sam tossed a napkin ball at her.

Tara gathered the plates with the food ready to go as Stu turned off the stove. “Um dad…we kinda need one more plate.” Stu hung up his kiss the cook apron “Oh? Did Sam invite a friend over.” Tara had to stop herself from laughing “Y-yeah a friend…I guess you could say that.”

Stu was confused for a minute but took another plate out and filled it, handing the dish to Tara. The sibling brought out the plates to the couple who shared a kiss “Um. Mr bearded man, you might not want to do that while my dad is here. Richie looked a little nervous but Sam held his hand.

“It’s ok sweetie. Our dad is nice one you get to know him.”

Tara smirked “Really? Because I saw him go wide eyed when you brought up having a “boyfriend” years ago. “Tara!” She shrugged “What? It’s true…Oop here he comes.”

Tara quickly takes her seat as Stu brought out the last two plates for him and Tara. He sets them down as his eye caught a man sitting at the table next to Sam “So you must be the “friend” Tara was talking about.”

Tara covered her mouth, snickering. Sam looked down for a minute then back up to her father. “Dad this is Richie….m-my boyfriend.”

Stu almost went wide eyed but kept a calm expression as he walked up and introduced himself to Richie which he did the same “it’s a pleasure to meet you sir” he said. Tara shook her head at Richie like saying “Good luck man, your gonna need it.”

As the family eats the well made dinner Tara prepared, Stu asks everyone what their future plans are, mostly Richie. “Well sir. I do like movies and writing in my free time. Im hoping to be a movie writer one day.”

Stu nodded “I’m a movie guy myself but writing one has always been a challenge for me.”

Tara looked over at Sam and Richie “Well dad I think these two can help you with that and make your dream come true.” Sam shook her head and nudged her boyfriend “Nope that’s all him. I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t get roped into a lawsuit or save him from one.”

Stu clapped his hands as he turned over to Tara “what about you sweetie? You going to follow in your sister’s footsteps or mine?” Tara smiled “Neither. I’m going to study to be an actress. It’s always been my thing ever since I was a kid.”

“I think I remember you begging me to buy you a stage.” Stu said, laughing “You wouldn’t let up so Sam and I had to make one out of cardboard.

After that, you asked me to be the cameraman while Sam was your co-Star on stage.”

Sam grinned “I still remember that all too well.” Then the family continued to talk to one another while finishing off their food.

(Later) “Sam you can take the guest room.” Stu said as he went to wash off the dishes. Richie was about to join Sam in the room but was pulled back by Tara. “What gives?” He said. Tara raised a brow and gestured over to her father in the kitchen. “Ohhh right, right.”

Tara called from the kitchen “Dad. I think Richie wants to stay the night is that’s ok?”

“Sure. Just make sure you get a blanket and pillow for him. You know where we keep them.” While Tara went to get a blanket and pillow for Richie, Sam went to the kitchen to chat with her step dad some more.

“So you got a new boyfriend huh?” Stu said as he was putting the clean dishes on the drying rack. Sam nodded as she put the drying towel away “Yes I do but….please don’t scare him away dad.”

“I won’t pumpkin. Your an adult now free to make your own decisions. I’ll have to respect them but you know I only want what’s best for you and Tara.” He looked out the window

“God knows I wouldn’t want you girls to end up in your mothers position because of….him.”

Sam didn’t say anything except hugging Stu from behind, letting tears fall from her eyes.

Afterwards, the family turns in for the night. Richie takes the couch much to Tara’s dismay as she wanted to play video games in the living room.

(The next morning)

Tara woke up later than her family as expected but she finds the guest room and couch empty. She heads into the kitchen to find Stu cooking breakfast “Hey dad, did Sam and Richie leave?” Stu shook his head. “Oh no they are just heading out to get groceries, they’ll be back shortly.”

Tara nodded as she decided to play video games in the living room as it was the weekend yet again. She invited Mindy and Chad game to play back 4 blood with her.

They all got excited to play another round and try to get further in the game. As they started up the game, Tara got lost in her thoughts.

The last week and chapter of her school life is drawing to a close and Tara was sweating bullets. She has yet to decide on what university to go to and if she would get accepted in.

‘Stop it Tara! You’re worrying too much about the future. I mean yes my career relies on me getting into the right school and making it in the big city.

“Damit! Noo. We were so close” Mindy said. Chad then spoke up “Tara? You still there.” Which the small girl snapped out of her thoughts and answered back.

“Sorry guys. I-I just need a moment. I’ll be right back”

Tara sets her headset down and does a quick skim through the photos on her phone. She smiled by how many pictures she took when hanging out with her friends. But her heart sank when it was her and a certain bleached haired boy she knew all too well. Tara also asked herself why she still kept them.

Seeing those pictures of him on her phone caused Tara to bury her face in her hands and sob. (though the mic was still on)

She still remembers that text and the girl with him all too well.

To be continued

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x9, A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving, Part V

Previously on TWWGG, it was still Thanksgiving and the Gilmores were headed to the McMansion. I expected a typical Mother-Daughter-Grandparents-blowout re: Lorelai's embarrassing, pathetic, infantile behavior during the tour of Yale, but what I didn't know was that I'd be in for a surprise twist that would delight me to my very core. The younger Gilmores are introduced to some random richies who will be joining them for dinner and nosing in on their business. Lorelai embarrasses everyone by making cringy jokes, Rory attempts to speak some abysmal sounding French. At dinner the subject of college applications comes up and the random and nosy rich people are rightfully floored by Rory's admission that she's only applied to one school.

Wait for it...wait for it...

In a most stunning act of courage, of medal-worthy bravery, Rory defied Lorelai and went behind her back to submit an application to Princeton, and is admitting to it, which makes Lorelai hopping mad! LOL! She makes a total fool of herself in front of her parents, Rory, and the random rich people! CRY BITCH CRY! I can honestly say I have never been more proud of Rory Gilmore. YOU GO GIRL!

Excuse me bish, who's WE?

Golly gee, I wonder why Rory didn't want to tell you and felt she had no other choice but to go behind your back.

In order to avoid your wrath she had to go behind your back just to AGREE TO MAKE PLANS TO VISIT YALE TO WALK AROUND AND LOOK AT THE BUILDINGS! Leave my poor courageous baby alone.

HAHAHA SHE'S SO MAD! HAHAHAA LOL

(Sighs in Princeton)

Two Sports Announcers Named Bill and Bob (one is really excitable and the other is the calm one): Bill: OHHH! THE YOUNG GILMORE GOES IN FOR THE KILL! The one-two Yale punch! I don't think Lorelai is going to recover from this one, Bob. Bob: No siree, the younger Gilmore really went straight for Mom's jugular with the Yale application reveal. We're witnessing some truly first world problems here, Bill.

Bill: Ouch! Lorelai hits back with the "My daughter is a brainless extension of me who can't possibly be trusted to make her own decisions" Bob: Brutal, Bill. Absolutely brutal. Bill: This will certainly land the Younger Gilmore in years of intense therapy. Lorelai: BUT WHY? WHY YALE? Girl, we've been over this. Now Lorelai believes Rory and the elder Gilmores have been holding secret Talk About Yale meetings behind her back. When they had time to do that, I don't know, because the start of the Great 2002 Yale Debacle was only one episode prior. Oh, I'm sorry, Lorelai thinks there were "Emails". Richard and Emily know what email is?

Sure Lorelai, you're not paranoid, and Taylor Doose isn't funneling money from the bridge repair fund into his own pocket to take trips to Maui and Jess Mariano didn't slaughter Shane on the football field behind the school after the DanceMurderThon and dump her body in the lake. Pshhh. People and their crazy conspiracy theories, right?

Lorelai is really confused by this foreign concept of people changing their minds about things.

Are you there God? It's me, CrazyPantsMcGee.

Is Lorelai looking up at the sky hoping...God himself will intervene? Does she want God to come down from the heavens and tell Rory to listen to Mommy and that she sinned when she went behind her back and applied to Yale?

You're talking to a brick wall here, Em. She doesn't understand the confusing concepts of things like backup schools, changing one's mind, or how hitting on her daughter's boyfriend is inappropriate. Give up.

Digestion time is over. E: You wont let Rory have even one piece of our lives? You hate us that much? Lorelai doesn't respond and just rolls her eyes so that's how you know Emily is right and that Lorelai can't admit she's wrong or it will eat her up inside just like the worms that ate up Shane's corpse after the DanceMurderThon.