#gonna so fucking sad until then tho
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Kesett Week 2024 Day 6: Post ROTJ
A lonely celebration for a victory 20 years in the making. Raise a toast to the man lost to the dune's.
#cal kestis#kesett#calboba#kesett week 2024#my art#star wars#star wars fan art#star wars fallen order#jedi survivor#man hes gonna be so psyched when he finds out bobas not dead#gonna so fucking sad until then tho
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so it’s becoming increasingly clear that i will be living alone in the next year, and abby will definitely be taking mishka because mishka is more bonded with her and i am not reliably able enough to meet her exercise needs, and everyone keeps telling me i should think about getting my own pet, and :^(
#mishka is still my baby girl tho. even if i don’t get to see her every day. even if she doesn’t live with me anymore.#i don’t want to replace her in my heart :^(((#and idk if i could take care of a dog all by myself. or if i’d want to.#i feel like my lifestyle is much better for a cat but i’m so allergic to cats.#ugh idk. i have plenty of time to think abt it still bc our lease isn’t up until next year#and it’s not like i need to get a pet immediately or anything.#but mishka is cuddling with me rn and i’m just. sad.#i love her so much. i miss her all the time when abby takes her to stay at her bf’s for days.#and i’m gonna miss her so much more when abby doesn’t live with me anymore and mishka never comes home. :^(((((#i know i’m borrowing grief from the future. but like. fuck man.#crying on my couch. crying on my dog. happy tuesday.#izzy.txt
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Okay I wanna ask you Blorbo wrapped questions back lmao. I'm also curious about who you thought was coolest, who you rotated in your head the most and who was most fun to write. But also, did you have anyone that was kinda driving you up a wall but then something clicked and you really figured out how to write them? If not, who's still driving you up a wall?
Kendrick! I think you saw that I got too excited and answered my own questions over here but who has been driving me up a wall is an excellent question, lol. There are a few who aren't actively driving me up a wall (what's up with Aza huh) but the people who I still haven't got a hold on are Declan, Horatio, and Sid.
I'm almost hesitant to say Declan because I don't think I have a hard time writing him but I also feel like I haven't fully keyed into the fact that he's an autism creature of a man (and also making it clear that the way the rest of the crew does things behind his back is not them infantilizing him because of it but more complicated than that. They do think he's fragile but that's because of how he's handled his grief). Also like. He literally trusts his crew with his life. But he is so so bad at talking to them and I haven't totally figured out how that all works out.
Oops this got long so here's a cut
Horatio got a character lift in this version. He's always been a sweetheart but that evolved out of him having A Sense Of Justice while also being generally pathetic and wet and soft. Now he has the Standing family deviousness that goes along with it and I don't know how to write that. Because also he looks completely different to Sid, who knows him very well and who he's open with, than he does to Avis, who hates him somewhat for the circumstances of his birth (she tries not to because it's not his fault) but extremely much for being sun-coded in the "cheerful" and "unavoidable and intense" ways. So like, what is he plotting (especially about getting Sorian and Avis back together) and how is he plotting it and how does this dovetail with the happy-go-lucky florist which is equally as much who he is?
Sid on the other hand is challenging in the sense that writing him feels fine. He's a real everyman if you will. Except I don't get his character and I think that's a major stumbling block for AOM as a whole. Yeah, on some level he has to be the sad traumatized guy but like. How does he handle his parents trying to run his life once he takes a massive step outside of their frame of reference? How does this work with Avis's story? (Can I successfully shove these two stories into one thing that is a whole? They have so many themes in common help) In his earliest iterations he was the devil-may-care I'm-doing-my-best guy who mildly tormented Horatio Sense Of Justice and I guess they've sort of flipped? Except Sid is always the Doing My Best guy.
Also when it comes to Anni and Zel, Anni is so easy to write with all the technical stuff and much more challenging with the romance stuff and I don't want it to be that way aaaaaaa
As for who did click, I think I'm getting there with Patience (even though I haven't worked on TFA in a while), Rodney worked better when I just let him be soft, working out Fay's whole divorce history helped make her easier to write (she's not pretending to be the good suburban mom. she just is sometimes and other times she sucks), the fact that Wylie hates himself cracked his whole character wide open, and lately I've realized that a critical part of post-divorce Sorian is that he's tired. He's tired of Avis needling him, always being there but never being there for him. He's not even sure he deserves for her to be. But he kinda wishes she would just leave and move on so he can too.
#'but your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone'#every iteration I get closer with Anni & Zel. I promise they have chemistry. I just don't feel confident in my ability to bring it out#which is probably the real problem. I think I'm gonna just write a ton of them outside of TFA until I get it#also when I start writing Binna again I think she's going to be kind of tough but we'll get there#original Old Canon Sid was a fucking trip (highly affectionate). I think he was dead? and trapped in the time stream?#so he could just go through time and dimensions however he pleased to annoy everybody equally#he and horatio had this unexplored 'menaces to lovers' potential#his methods were questionable but he really was trying to do the right thing. I wish I had written seven million more pages of him#I originally solved Sid vs. his parents with what was essentially a heist plot crafted to convince them he was a lost cause#which was delightful but. I don't think that's how I want to do things this time#it was great catharsis while I was really going through it tho#also throwback to when I mentally got through finals in the spring by just taking a break to write Vy x Wylie smut#thinking about Sorian and mentally going 'aw my baby' and laughing about who I have/would call my baby#anyone is fair game but I usually say it about Dez (cute) - Tirias (fun) - Mirilde (darling) - Sorian (sad) - Fabian (loser)#c: Sid#c: Declan#c: Horatio#c: Sorian#c: Fay#c: Wylie#c: Rodney#c: Patience#rose meta#rose brambles
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How do I even begin to feel normal again. Wtf even happened in the last two days
#I threw off my routine and now I’m sad :(#And I can’t make myself feel better because I did the thing :(#This would actually sound so stupid with full context not that I actually care#In short some fucker bought biscuits even though I say not to buy biscuits that are vegan cause I’ll just eat them all#And now I’ve fucking eaten them all and I feel like shit so I can’t have my bath because I feel like shit#And I’m not gonna have any room for self improvement because self care day isn’t until fucking Thursday#I’m hoping to feel better tomorrow at least because I have a late start so chill morning and such#But then still working so I feel good because I’ve been outside and done something to my brain#If I charge my batteries in my CD player and pick out some music that’ll make me feel better tho :) I’m gonna do that#And I’m gonna try and buy some easy peelers and prepare myself for Wednesday!!!!!!!#I’m going to start trying to do more walks too even though it gets too dark to go after college now which is sad. I need my goddamn walks!!
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fuck, what if the reason i'm winning my 50/50's is because hoyo doesn't want me to have tighnari
#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo，ide yo !!#i'm joking obviously. this isn't a serious post#i mean i'm definitely not complaining about getting an early lyney#but that goddamn fennec fox is taking way too long to come home#on my alt i've decided i'm not gonna finish tighnari's story quest until i get tighnari#so that whenever i have the urge to play around with his kit i can just go into his quest domain#i was planning to do the same for lyney. but now i have him so i don't need to anymore#thank god#why didn't they let us try albedo in his story quest#that is an actual travesty#now i have to wait for another fucking fayz trial or whatever to get to use him again#(assuming i don't get him in his rerun)#now i'm kinda torn tho#i already have lyney on the alt. so what should i do on main. should i keep pulling? or save for venti?#even though i have him on the alt i still want him on main damn it#eh fuck it. i'll keep pulling. i should have plenty of time to get /a/ 5 star out of this banner at least，assuming high pity#at least i won't be as sad not winning the 50/50 cuz i already have him on the alt#and then it's all in for venti babyyyyyyyy#(okay MAAAAAAAYBE 4 star pity once or twice in the next banner to try for freminet like i said. but otherwise，all for venti)#(or albedo. whoever gets rerun first)
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NEWS UPDATE ON THE DEAD CELLS PLAYTHROUGH (also, a little review for the road so far)
I killed him. The game let me kill him. THE GAME LET ME KILL THIS FUCKING DECREPIT OLD ASS MOTHERFUCKER KING BITCH LOSER. I DID IT!! I TOOK THAT COOL AS FUCK WEAPON (That fight was tough as shit but I finally did it with good enough synergies) AND FUCKING BROKE THE BARRIER AND RAN HIM THROUGH WITH HIS BODYGUARD’S OWN WEAPON. FUCK YOU BITCH YOU’RE DEAD! DEAD AS HELL! IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER WHO YOU ARE TO ME ANYMORE BECAUSE I DID A KILL AND YOUR BODY FUCKING EXPLODED AND KILLED ME BUT NOW I CAN SEPARATE MY HEAD FROM MY BODY SO THATS COOL.
However...it isn’t over. I got a new difficulty level. I need to make sure his body is gone again. I need to make sure he’s dead for real. I no longer need to obsess over whether I am the King’s kid or some shit because he’s dead. Is this what freedom feels like? Is this joy?
Anyways, 10/10 rogue-like experience, 8/10 game. The gameplay is excellent, in fact it’s my personal favorite of any game I’ve played that isn’t a metroidvania, but imo the ‘environmental lore’ doesn’t really work in a procedurally generated environment where important rooms for the lore sometimes just straight up don’t spawn. And even when they do a player could easily miss them if they’re in a tight spot and just need to leave the level ASAP, which is the spot I’m in every time I enter High Peak Castle. Plus there are barely any ‘characters’ to speak of who aren’t just lore characters or bosses (again, that could change with other difficulty levels), so TBH it’s hard to get attached to the kingdom we’re blitzing our way through. But as far as ‘rogue-likes’ go, I doubt you can get one better than this, especially in the gameplay department. I’m not even GOOD at this game and I adore the gameplay, imagine how good it is for people who AREN’T BAD AT MOST GAMES. Plus, the soundtrack is excellent and the wittiness within what little dialogue/inner monologue we get makes the experience even more fun. This game is already worth the $50-ish (including DLCs) I paid for it, and I’ve only beaten it once. But bear in mind that this game is designed to kick your ass, so if you just want a casual game or a game that you can pick up and beat pretty quickly, this might not be the game for you. It took me about 50 hours to beat it once at the base difficulty, and a solid 20 hours of that was without even beating Timekeeper once. It’s a rogue-like at its core, for better and for worse. In my opinion, the pros far outweigh the cons and I’ll probably continue playing this game for a very long time.
#dead cells#dead cells king#dead cells beheaded#dead cells review#dead cells spoilers#I love this game#I love so much about it#to the point that the few issues I have with it are instantly overshadowed by the aspects that are just incredible#dead cells timekeeper#I'm not exaggerating it took me about 20 hours to beat her for the first time#because I track my progress on games like this and I went into her without REALLY LEARNING HOW TO PARRY EFFECTIVELY#WHICH WAS A BAD IDEA#concierge is easy tho#beat his ass first try#I've only died to him once and it was because I was dicking around trying to kill him with parrying only as training for timekeeper#dead cells hand of the king#great boss#why is your music kinda sad tho like bro it's ok I'm gonna kill you quick#or I was until you spawned an elite fucking eggy fuck on my ass
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i can do whatever i want so scotty is just how i play him in the game and that’s how it is he’s a wifeguy now sorry. he’s a golden retriever man. sometimes he’s dumb as bricks. he says shit like “i turned on the light so i could see these undead freaks die, not because i’m scared!!!” but, i do still think he was kind of a jerk before, like a generally well meaning one but also 80′s boyfriend [derogatory]. then it’s like. Life Comes At You Fast [gets owned by the trees after ditching ash bc he wouldn’t leave linda who was definitely getting possessed at that very moment] think u have to sit there with ur damned soul for a while like. well. fucked that up pretty bad. after climbing out of his grave and stumbling into town now he tanks deadites for his new friends and is 80′s boyfriend [affectionate]. he doesn’t know how to use a cellphone. are you tellin me they put a tv in that little screen?
#u know when older movies r like [disrespects women]#think he's interesting tho bc he's like [defends his friends defends his friends] until he finally loses his nerve#something i think that is rly kind of fucked up and sad in the first movie is when ash is all alone#and scotty's dead on the couch and he's trying to give him a drink and talking to him like he's not dead and they're all gonna go home safe#idk what this is all about just thinking#i think i can be violently canon divergent when no one knows wtf character i'm talking about#my other essay is about how i really do think evil dead 1 ash is so interesting and important and i don't like that it was retconned in 2#in 2 he suddenly had swag and its like. no he has to build up to that#he has to gain his unhinged final boy energy#i don't even write ash i just feel something rn
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.
#I wish I could fast forward through parts of my life and keep rewinding to the past#I want to go back and live through my life up until the beginning of ninth grade#then I’ll fast forward to the part of life where I’m happy again#it’s also kinda funny that when I first moved here I hated this house because it wasn’t my home#and it still isn’t I don’t think I could ever consider this place a home but#if I think about leaving it or living in another house I feel sad because I don’t want things to change again#I’m still healing from the last big change that happened more than 6 years ago how much longer is this healing thing going to take#moving again would just be pouring salt in an open wound that was already infected#I hate being attached to places but the only to stop being attached is to cut off all emotions and make myself a zombie#being numb with no feelings is so much than pain of being attached to a place and having to leave it#I want to go home but somebody else lives in my home now and trying to go back there would be ‘’trespassing’’ and ‘’breaking and entering’’#even tho my family was the first people to live there and been since the 80s#my family owns that house more than anyone that lives there now#we were there for almost 40 years#I’m tempted to drive there in the middle of the night and tell everyone to get the fuck out of my house and take it back as mine#my family and my freinds and their families literally owned half the neighborhood that was out home and I still don’t understand why#I don’t understand why it had to change. I don’t understand why we all had to leave our home. it was perfect why did it have to change#I’m gonna marry a rich person and use their money to buy the entire part of the neighborhood that belongs to my family and freinds#I’ll live in the home I grew up in and I’ll invite my new family and freinds go live in the other empty houses#I’m going to make that place my home again someday somehow#I’m going back. one way or another.#if that doesn’t work then I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt the whole place the entire half of the neighborhood that was mine#I’ll roam the road and my home and my freinds houses and scare everyone away and keep it all to myself#I’ll curse and haunt anyone that’s not my family or childhood freinds their the only allowed in my home#because their the only ones that didn’t try to steal it from me. it was their home too. it’s not fair they had to leave too.#I’ll invite them and their families and I’ll protect them I won’t let anyone steal our home#and we can all be happy again
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el pollo loco gives THE MOST pitiful amount of quesadillas
#bro......they had like negative cheese in them#AGAIN#i was like if i have to eat a tuna sandwich one more fucking time im gonna lose it#so i went for quesadillas#but it was such a sad amount#like#the equivalent of a single quesadilla that i make myself at home#and i eat like five#so sad omg#definitely not filling enough 😭#it will ladt me maybe until tonight tho#hopefully :/#michi tag
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Chapter Eighteen arrives!
And with it…
hiatus begins…
#my writing#fanfic#ao3#reed900#rk1k#sorry it’s so late in the day#Lie was up for doing a call thing today so I couldn’t record until later (even tho they gave me a warning a couple hours beforehand)#relieved and sad to be taking a step back like this#thanks for being patient with me :3#I have the next chapter written so hiatus will end as scheduled barring extreme circumstances#I’m gonna see this thing to the end! *knock on wood*#it’s so fucking hot in here the recording is done I’m turning the AC back on#love you all so much#I’ll still be around here once in a while#❤️💛🧡💚💙💜💖
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i need to test my fucking code lmfao 🤡
#imagine not just coding blindly and then submitting to see what happens like im about to do sdjnfbfdhhskjfbjdkhgdf#trying to set my expectations low even tho for some reason im hopeful that it's gonna work#but like bro u didnt test shit u have no idea lol#ksjnfwhbowdfogbqogbieruhqeigrhiwngoqrf FUCK it's 3:30 since when TT lmaooooooo#i told myself i woouldnt go to sleep until i finished this function section and here we are#it's not that late like i 've been going to sleep around this time lmfao#but i havent gotten ready for bed yet so it will probably be around 4:30-5 then#i was gonna wash my hair today........ dont thinkthats gonna happen XD#i think im procrastinating submitting lmfao#there's DEFINITELY something i missed#im just gonna be so so so sad if i dont pass any test cases for the shit i just implemented#i hope i hope i hope lmfao#🤡🤡🤡🤡 and like that probably means i should probably TEST IT TO SEE#but no#🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 i've been snacking on fucking salami bites LMFAO health <3 salt and fat <3#RIP i rly didnt pass any test cases for the functions i just implemented LMAO ugh it's fine i just gotta test TT#wait i passed a few more tests for another thing ........ did i even change that from lst time i submitted lol ok#damn now i wanna try to debug but maybe i shoud sleep first TT#fucknjdbgfhbjdbfgjlsdblkfd i'm not . screeewwwwwweeeeedddddd i'm just . not not screwed TT#i at least have code written for almost all the functions and shit tho#it's not CORRECT CODE but it's CODE#anfghbwbgqirepupqiuhgbwjhfkbdfkhsfljghljdfkfasdf and i have a couple late days i can probably use dnghdjbfdbfbgerpqehir okokokokokkokkokok#am slightly nervous bc of show tmr and stats hw due thursday TT#jndsfjhgjfhjblsjdfblsjfhdbgqorbgpqiuerhtqepurthqornfjfddljfl ok shut the fuck up go to sleep or sm ;-;#jk not that i can even rly get ready for bed rn i think my roommate in the bathroom lmfao#screaming <3#jeanne talks
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Sweets
C/TW: Mentions of sex but otherwise nothing bad.
Nah but imagine Vox knowing you have a crush on him and he’s thinking like, yeah I could take advantage of this—meaning ‘hell yeah I get laid and an attractive partner? Sign me up’. Regardless of what your relationship with him is, he is interested and down to fuck and have a possible sexual relationship with you from here on out. So he makes his move by inviting you to his personal living quarters in the Vee Tower. You walk in, heart fluttering about at the prospect your crush wanting to spend time with you, and are quickly met with Vox. He of course puts the moves on you; charming smirk, the correct choice of words, arm wrapping around your hips or your waist as he pulls you in closer to him. He hints at something—a burning desire. You’re flustered in his arms. He’s thinking, yeah he’s got this in the bag. But then you push on his chest and unwrap yourself from his arm. Wait what? “Vox,”—You’d start, “I’m flattered but…I’m not that kind of person.” You then excuse yourself and before Vox knows it, he’s standing alone in his living quarters. You’re into him? He knows this. What happened? Despite his annoyances with the results, he still persists. He spends the next several weeks trying to seduce you, flirting with you very sexually—not Valentino level but still sexually charged. Yet every time he gets shot down. One day he’s ranting to Velvette about it to which she rolls her eyes and scoffs, “Is sex the only thing you can think about?” Velvette whips out her phone, pulling up your social media pages, all your likes, comments, reposts, music playlists, shows and movies you watch, ect,. “They’re a romantic—A fucking sweet one at that. Taking advantage of their feelings just so you can get your dick wet whenever you want isn’t gonna get you anywhere, darling.” Vox spends a few days thinking it over. Okay so a more romantic approach. But he tried inviting you over! He even set the mood and everything. Though it was with the hope that…it would quickly lead to having you naked on his bed. He probably has some sort of mental war with himself about it too. Like why’s he trying so hard? It isn’t until he spots you on one of his cameras where he realizes he may want something much more than just sex with you. But is it too late? Did all his attempts at wooing you really scare you away? He watched with bated breath as you sat on a water fountain, gingerly typing away on your phone. You were wearing the loveliest looking spring dress/shirt. You looked so…beautiful. So sweet. So innocent. And romantic. A type of romance that seemed like it didn’t exist in hell. He was so mesmerized he didn’t even realize a second figure coming to sit next to you. He only realized when you put your phone down and smiled sweetly at the person. Who was this person? Why are you so close together? Why do you look like you’re blushing—? Oh. It’s a date.
As a hopeless romantic, reading Vox x Reader fics and so many of them having some kind of sexual undertone or more mature tone makes me kind of sad. I truly love tooth rotting fluffy romance. Think—picnic in a cherry blossom field while wearing the strawberry dress. So I wanted to write a little (not so little, it kinda got away from me) imagine where Vox’s idea of romance clashes with readers and it ends up only pushing them away. So yeah. Here’s that. I mean no disrespect to everyone’s fics of them tho—trust me they’re delicious in every way possible but I just really need to feed my hopeless sweet romantic side for a bit <3
#hazbin hotel#x reader#vox#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel x reader#fluff#kinda angsty#I really wanted a more sweet fun innocent love okay lol#in my delusions he calls me sweetheart
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I feel like absolute fucking shit today
#I’m so fucking lonely#i thought at least my sister would be here tonight but shes going out with her friend#which i should’ve figured but like i didnt find out until now and now I’m sad all over again#we wouldnt have done anything anyways but now I’m gonna be alone which is fine but like. also I’m just extra sad lately#bc no one wants to spend time with me. no one likes me#I’m never anyones first choice#everyone forgets about me#everyone has friends and boyfriends and girlfriends#and I’m alone#i brought it on myself tho. bc i never do anything and I’m socially awkward#but it just hurts. to never be wanted
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come pick me up.
part one to do you think i have forgotten (about you)
summary: it had always been you and eddie. but one night and a whole lotta unexplored feelings leave you both reeling and you’re not sure if it ever really was you and eddie.
a/n: ermm this is so so long i’m so sorry already LOL i’ve had it in the drafts for so long but i reread it n rlly liked it so i wanna post hehe! side note: there are ZERO pictures of eddie not in that fuckin hellfire shirt D: i can’t have a grown man wearing that now …
loosely based off of the cook/freddie/effy storyline from skins uk if you’ve seen it you’ll know.,,, they’re like in their early twenties n it’s set sometime in the 90s ish tho it’s not rlly mentioned
no use of y/n! smut, 18+. this is more so stevexreader than eddie but they do have a relationship of sorts n it’s a lil’ complicated.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ❤︎ ❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
the sound of a high pitched alarm screaming jolts you awake. still partially in last nights clothes, the grubby feel of makeup on your face. leg slung over eddie’s torso.
you groan, shoving his arm as he’s still very much asleep, ‘shut up,’ grimacing as the noise continues.
he mumbles something, wildly slapping his arm about to turn off the damn thing.
you run a hand over your face, remnants of your black eyeliner on your hand. that horrid taste in your mouth only found after a night of drinking. which seemed to be just about every night at the moment.
‘why’d you set an alarm, you freak?’ rolling over onto your stomach, perched on your elbows, watching as his eyes slowly open, obviously feeling as shit as you did.
‘i have- had class, you freak,’ he grumbles, looking up at you from the pillow, curly hair fanned out around him.
you scoff, ‘like you were gonna go,’ attempting to rub the rest of your mascara off, sure you looked similar to a wild raccoon.
he hums in response, shuffling under the covers to tangle his leg with your yours, ‘you gonna sort this out for me?’ referring to the obvious morning glory tenting the blanket.
‘you gonna ask nicely?’ you respond, snarling at his crudeness.
whatever he was about to say was interrupted with a knock at the door, ‘we’re coming in, you have five seconds to not be naked,’ robin’s voice echoes.
you look up as robin walks into the room, hand over her eyes until steve gives her a small nudge, indicating the coast is clear, ‘oh good-,’ she sniffs, ‘it smells like weed and sex in here, you’re fucking disgusting.’
‘thanks for reminding me,’ eddie leans over, retrieving the half-smoked spliff from last night and lighting the end.
steve’s eyes are firmly on yours, kinda sad and defeated. he had that same look on his face whenever you and eddie were together, which was often.
you’d sort of always had this.. thing with steve. encapsulated by his presence. there was always something unspoken between you and you were never sure if it was because he hated you or not. small glances and touches that seemed to linger just a bit too long.
you’d sorta taken his best friend from him at one point, coming between their friendship suddenly and with no warning.
steve was intrigued by you too. this mystical, unobtainable persona you presented to the world. something he couldn’t crack. just couldn’t quite understand it.
‘we’re getting breakfast, i was going to ask if you wanted to join but i assume that won’t be happening,’ she raises her eyebrows, noticing your severely hungover state.
they liked to party too, just clearly not as much as you and eddie. both of you had no understanding of when to call it a night, egging each other on til the point of no return.
‘i think we’ll give that a miss,’ eddie’s answers for the both of you. steve’s eyes immediately look down, suddenly interesting in the burn marks in eddie’s carpet.
you’d actually met steve first, on the first day of classes in freshmen year. you went over to a sheepish steve, who looked slightly scared, and obviously lost. offering him the directions to his room.
he’d smiled back, introducing himself to you on the way. appreciative of your kindness. you probably wouldn’t have helped if he didn’t look like that, but still, it was nice.
that’s when eddie had bounded over, all hair and denim. loudly taking over your conversation, introducing himself with a smirk, hand already creeping onto your lower back. that’s when steve had nodded towards him and informed you of their already established friendship.
you weren’t really sure when it became you and eddie. well, it wasn’t. not officially. god, you didn’t want official. he was fun to fuck and even better to party with. maybe the fact he dealt had been a factor in solidifying your strange relationship. maybe not.
robin rolls her eyes, ‘right, well you boring fucks can rot in bed all day, suit yourselves,’ ushering steve out of the door, slamming it behind her.
you blink, hating this awful, guilty feeling steve always left in your stomach. you’d tear a guy like him to shreds, maybe it was for the best.
whatever self-wallowing, steve-centric thoughts you had are interrupted when eddie’s arm snakes around your back, pulling you onto him.
‘i still need a little assistance here,’ he grins from beneath you, running his hand down your back, firmly grasping your exposed ass as you clamber on top properly.
you try your damn hardest to push the reflecting image of steve from your mind. though it doesn’t quite work until eddie’s calloused palm softly taps against your cheek, ‘anyone in there?’
you frown, returning the playful slap as you grind mindlessly against him, his fingers digging into the pliant skin of your ass.
‘you can do that again.’
-
eddie hadn’t shut up about his birthday for weeks. you’d all planned to go to the same bar you went to most weekends, except this time everyone had to go and he got to be centre of attention.
he’d been pissing you off all night. obviously far too drunk, jaw clenching from the copious amounts of shit he’d sniffed. hanging from your shoulder, speaking over you and splashing beer down your top as he slurred through his words.
‘i think we’re gonna head home,’ steve speaks up when you exit the bar, eddie already looking for the next place.
‘whaat? you’re fucking boring,’ he pokes a finger into steve’s chest, far too intoxicated, ‘you’re staying out, right?’ he looks over to jonathan, argyle and nancy who also shared an apartment not far from yours.
‘nah man.. it’s late, it’s been fun though,’ jonathan shrugs as nancy finds a taxi to take them home.
‘fuuuck you guys are really ditching me on my birthday? at least you won’t let me down,’ his arm hooks around your shoulder, yanking you into him.
you pull back, which wasn’t particularly hard in his state, ‘get off of me.. can i get a ride with you?’ looking over at steve, his hands cautiously poking out of his pockets.
he nods sheepishly as eddie practically erupts, ‘it’s my fucking birthday, and you fucking losers are going home?’ he’s screeching, throwing his arms around, making a royal scene in the middle of the street.
robin finds a cab willing to take the group of you home, calling you over to the yellow vehicle, ‘eddie let’s just go home, it’s late,’ attempting to coax him into going with you. you’d deal with his shit in the privacy of his bedroom.
he laughs, turning away from you and walking up the dimly lit street, ‘you.. you can get fucked,’ he slurs, disappearing into a nearby bar.
steve stands at the cab door, watching as you frown at eddie’s back. internally deciding whether to give in and follow him or to leave like you’d originally planned.
you let out an exasperated sigh, ‘he can go fuck himself,’ you spit as you slide into the back of the cab. steve follows, shutting the door behind him, flashing you a small cautious look as the cab pulls off.
-
you collapse onto the sofa the second you set foot in the apartment. completely at your wits end with eddie and his the way he spoke to you.
‘i’m going to bed,’ robin announces, slinking into her own room, leaving steve to awkwardly linger in the living room.
you didn’t want to worry about eddie. he was a grown man who could definitely handle his own. besides, why should you when he’d explicitly told you to fuck off?
steve clears his throat before taking the empty seat beside you, ‘he didn’t mean it.. it’s just drunk talking,’ he nods, attempting to reassure you.
it wasn’t as if you were really upset about it all. more so annoyed that you’d let him treat you that way. continually. over and over again.
whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you had started to wear thin. there were only so many times you could put up with his shit before it got tired.
eddie could be a horrible drunk. it wasn’t often but when that version of him came out you’d prefer to be far far from it. he was cruel with his words, venomous as they rolled off his tongue. then you’d get into a screaming match and then either end up hate-fucking or you’d just both never bring it up again.
‘no, he did,’ you sigh, kicking the shoes from your feet with a thud, ‘i don’t care.. really.’
‘right,’ he nods, not totally believing you, ‘y’wanna smoke?’
a small smile creeps onto your face as he reaches for the small black box eddie kept on the table, pulling out a small baggie of weed, something eddie definitely wouldn’t miss. he didn’t even need your reply, beginning to roll up.
-
perhaps you’d smoked a little too much, sputtering on the final toke of your second or third spliff before handing it back to steve. he sits on the other side, an awful lot closer than he’d been originally.
it was quiet, but comfortable. not awkward at all.
‘y’know..’ he speaks up, looking over at you, ‘actually.. nah,’ changing his mind almost immediately.
‘no.. what? what were you gonna say?’ you furrow your brows, vision hazy, the room full of grey smoke.
he sort of chuckles to himself, stubbing the end of the joint out in the glass ashtray before looking at you again, ‘it’s stupid,’ he warns.
‘even better.. tell me,’ you nod, encouraging him to go on.
he pauses for a moment, a tiny smile on his pink lips, ‘i always thought.. well, that you and me were gonna end up together, i thought you liked me for the longest time,’ shaking his head as he looks down.
your heart thuds. a mixture of your high and the unidentifiable emotion coursing through your veins. there was no questions to being with eddie. it was simple, sex and parties. no complicated feelings involved.
but within a second, steve had completely changed everything. a feeling you’d suppressed since your situationship with eddie had started. completely convinced that the odd relationship you had with steve was just because you were banging his best friend.
‘i didn’t.. i didn’t know you felt like that..’ you manage to get out quietly, watching as he slowly stands up, he doesn’t look at you once. too ashamed, embarrassed that he’d just admitted everything to you so easily.
‘well, now you know,’ he says quietly before disappearing into his room.
you linger on the couch for a moment. unsure of what to think of anything he’d just said. whether you should knock on his door and tell him you’d felt the same or just go off to your own room and wait for eddie to crawl in.
it wasn’t as if you felt nothing at all for eddie. you did, of course. but you didn’t love him. not the way you maybe should’ve. not the way you felt about steve, his gentle nature and soft caramel tinted eyes.
you stand from the couch, feet taking control as you walk to his door. a small slither of orange light peaking from underneath. raising your fist to knock but stopping, arguing with yourself. this couldn’t be a good idea.
before you can even convince yourself to knock, the door opens. steve stands on the other side, his own chest heaving as your eyes meet.
‘i-,’ he croaks, but you cut him off with your lips, pulling back just as quickly as you’d moved forwards.
you stare at him for a few moments, swallowing all the courage you’d just worked up.
‘..now you know,’ giving him a meek smile before walking back to your room. you lean back against the door, heart beating a million miles an hour.
-
a repetitive banging sound forces you awake in the morning. hissing as the sounds of an extremely dramatic moan get louder. high-pitched and obviously put on.
it takes a moment for you to realise just where the noise is coming from. eddie’s room backs onto yours. the headboard colliding with the wall at an alarming pace.
you stumble out of bed, throwing on an old dirty sweater and groggily making your way into the living room.
steve sits slumped over the table, looking particularly miserable this morning. despite what had happened last night. you wondered if he’d told robin who sat scowling at the door. steam practically coming out of her ears.
her eyes widen as you appear in the doorway, rubbing the residual sleep from your eyes, eyes flitting between your frame and the wooden door.
‘well shit, i was about to cuss you out,’ she remarks, astonished that you were stood in front of her.
steve’s whole face brightens when he realises you’re stood in front of him and not in the room making those god-awful, oscar worthy noises.
‘if that’s not you.. who the fuck is in there?’ robin gasps, now utterly bemused by the entire situation.
you shrug, choosing the seat opposite steve, making brief eye contact and flashing him a small smile. would he bring up last night? or was it never to be spoken about again?
relief is written all over his face. obviously under the impression that you’d made up with eddie at some point in the night. not once checking that you were in your room.
‘jesus christ i’m gonna kill him,’ robin fumes, sipping on a mug of coffee. her eyes are narrowed, attempting to set the room ablaze with her mind.
‘it won’t last long,’ you add, reaching over to steal a slice of steve’s buttered toast. he lets you, obviously. letting out a soft snort at your joke.
‘nothing is that good,’ robin shakes her head.
the noises quieten, a shrill giggle coming from the hallway as a scantily clad blonde appears in the doorway, closely followed by eddie, sporting a pair of boxers that hid absolutely nothing.
‘that way,’ he groans, guiding the smiling woman away towards the bathroom. his eyes momentarily meeting yours, total venom behind his glare.
robin jumps up, splashing coffee over the floor, ‘don’t you dare think about fucking in my bathroom,’ she warns, chasing after the odd couple.
you can hear an altercation as presumably eddie slams the bathroom door on robin, her fists pounding against the wood, hollering about her new bath mat.
steve glances at you, searching your face for any type of reaction. he doesn't find anything, instead you smile softly as robin re-enters the room, cursing at the bastard freak. she grabs her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder before stomping over to the door.
'i'm going out, let me know when he's done with his weird exhibitionist routine,' slamming the door as she exits, the poorly built walls shaking as she does.
there's a faint sound of running water, obviously coming from the bathroom, closely followed by a series of questionable grunts and groans. you choose to try and block it out, though engaging in conversation with steve at this very moment seemed almost too awkward.
'did you tell robin?' you pipe up, playing with your fingernails as you just about meet his gaze.
'uh.. yeah,' he grimaces slightly, 'i-i just thought.. well i thought that was you this morning, i was.. confused,' apologetic for his blunder.
you nod, 'i don't care.. i just wanna prepare for the inevitable grilling i'm gonna get,' chuckling in an attempt to ease the tension. it works as his lips curl into a small, playing with the discarded crusts on his plate.
the god-awful noises from the bathroom worsen and your eyes are pulled from steve, looking towards the cause. perhaps this was eddie's way of making you jealous. revenge for choosing to go home and not put up with his drunken assholery.
-
you’re sat tracing patterns into the velvet fabric of the sofa, practically shaking as you wait for steve to get back from campus.
he was your friend for fuck sake. why was this so nerve wracking? ask him to hang out, if he says no then so be it. you’ll deal with the awkwardness of your shared kiss alongside eddie’s misguided anger.
he’s later than you’d expected. becoming far too engrossed in the random soap opera on the tv when he does eventually get back. almost forgetting about what you’d got yourself so worked up over.
‘hey,’ waving his fingers as he comes in.
christ, he almost seemed more nervous than you were.
‘hey,’ not wanting to jump down his throat the second he walked in the door, turning the tv off and running your palms down the sofa.
‘spoken to eddie?’ he asks curiously, slinging his bag from his shoulder and slumping down next to you on the couch.
‘nah.. he went out this morning and hasn’t been back,’ you shrug, wishing that he wouldn’t have just bought that prick up.
he nods, looking down at his jeans, finding a loose thread to play with.
‘would yo-,’
‘d’ya wanna-,’
you both start at the same time, stopping to let him continue except he’d done the same thing. sitting in the silence for a brief moment.
you chuckle nervously, ‘sorry, what were you saying?’
‘i was just gonna ask if you wanted to.. maybe do something tonight? if- if you’re not busy,’ shrugging it off, trying his hardest to play it cool.
‘oh,’ laughing softly, the pair of you were like nervy teenagers, comical, ‘i was gonna ask you the same thing.. yeah i’d love to.’
steve grins, transported back to freshman year of high school, trying to find the gall to ask tammy thompson to the fucking movies. it all seemed so childish, innocent, the way you melted around each other.
‘okay.. i’ll get changed, give me five,’ he nods, leaping from the sofa and speeding off to his room.
you bite down onto your bottom lip, trying to contain your smile. kicking yourself for the adolescent excitement it gave you.
-
the bar was packed for a wednesday night, steve shouldering his way through the crowd with you following closely behind. not brave enough to cling onto his hand, wrapping your fingers around his forearm instead.
‘jesus christ,’ he exclaims when he finds a spot just about big enough for you both to stand. you were close. closer than you’d ever been. at least in public.
you hold onto the glass bottle he’d passed you from the bar, ‘d’ya wanna go somewhere else?’
‘what?’ he shouts, the music too loud to hear you properly.
you lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear, the feeling makes your heart pound, ‘you wanna go somewhere else?’
placing his hand on your arm so he could shout back, the mixture of his cologne and beer filling your nose. it was intoxicating, making your head giddy.
‘i’m good if you are,’ wisps of his hair sweeping against your cheek.
you nod, beaming up at him as you take a swig of the harsh beer. the crowd seemingly disappearing from around you as his eyes focus on you, his own smile overcoming his face.
-
okay, perhaps you’d had a little too much to drink. but a little dutch confidence never hurt anyone.
you’re definitely not complaining when you grab his hand on the way out of the bar, quickly intertwining your fingers as he weaves his way to the door. still as packed as when you’d got there.
you giggle as he trips over the step coming into the bar, sending you flying into his back as he regains his balance.
his hand is quick to steady you, resting on your waist. the street light illuminating the gleam of his eyes, slightly glossy from the multiple beers he’d sunk inside.
a drunk student roars past you, snapping you out of the moment, steve’s hand still lingering on your waist. something that would’ve never happened if he were sober.
‘shall we go home?’ you ask, not breaking from his gaze.
he nods, moving his hand to offer it out for you to grab. leading you over to an empty cab, leaning through the front window to talk to the driver.
the drive home is heavy with tension. sitting in silence as steve makes polite conversation with the driver, fingers still wrapped around yours. heart thumping as you near your street.
the apartment dark and silent when you get in, the only light coming from the old fairy lights robin had hung around the room. there’s no hesitation, your hands grabbing his cheeks, smashing your lips to his the second the front door closes.
it takes a moment for him to realise what was happening, hands quickly finding solace on the small of your back when it clicks properly. it’s greedy and desperate, tongue sliding into his mouth, wanting to touch every inch of him.
hands sliding down his chest, grabbing at the fabric, his leg slotting between yours, guiding you backwards. straight into the coffee table with a bang.
you spring apart, eyeing eddie’s room cautiously, saying a silent prayer and hoping he didn’t come out.
steve’s eager to resume, eyes hungry as they flit between eddie’s door and your face.
you pull back completely, taking your lip between your teeth and hooking your finger around his pinky, leading the way to his bedroom. it was the furthest away from eddie’s and made the most sense.
he shuts the door gently, flicking the small bedside lamp on, illuminating the obvious tent in his jeans. your mouth falling open at the sight of it, rubbing your thighs together to try and satiate the growing throbbing.
you’re quick to resume the kiss, moving on him swiftly, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. he collapses backwards onto the bed, your body falling on top of his chest, hands caressing his cheeks.
the next moment you find yourself underneath steve, pressed into the mattress as he holds himself above you. eager hands finding the short hem of your skirt and sliding underneath on the soft skin of your thighs. you had never seen him move with such confidence before, normally a little shy in the way he carried himself.
his finger hooks into the waistband of your lacy panties, tugging them down to your thighs. his growing erection digging into your core with every movement. moaning into his mouth when his finger begins circling your sensitive clit. this had definitely killed any and all assumptions that he was a virgin.
it’s as if he had been waiting for this very moment for his entire life, sliding his fingers between your folds and into your already soaking hole, your mouth falling from his as your head rolls back onto the pillow.
‘oh my god,’ a breathy moan escaping from your lips as his fingers pump in and out, his other hand causing a dip in the pillow next to your head.
his fingers slip out of you and begin to unbuckle his belt, barely getting them down and around his legs before his cock springs up. bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, mouth hung open as your peer down between your bodies.
your shirt is pulled off over your head so quickly you weren’t sure if you had blinked, landing on the floor alongside his with a soft thunk.
you draw your eyes back up to meet his once more, ‘you’re sure?’ he reaffirms, pupils dilated, wetting his lips with his pink tongue.
‘so sure,’ nodding encouragingly underneath him, readjusting your legs to loosely wrap around his torso. you’d never been more sure of anything in your life.
he returns the nod, positioning himself at your sopping entrance and without breaking eye contact he slides in with a sharp intake of breath. you can’t contain the whimper that collects in your throat, the stretch of his cock taking you by surprise. the sting felt good, like he was always supposed to be there between your legs.
he’s still, waiting for your encouragement to move. you give it in the form of a squeeze on the back of his neck, clinging on to the skin as his hips move slowly. low, hungry grunts roll from his lips, the bed frame creaking in time with his thrusts.
‘fuck,’ you breathe out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth acutely aware that eddie was only a few doors away and could definitely hear the happenings in the room. even if you could manage to stifle yourself, the undeniable sounds of skin against skin would expose you.
‘is that- is that good?’ steve mumbles, moving slow but hitting deep, nudging against your soft spot, already hurtling you towards your orgasm.
‘jesus christ.. yes, yes,’ beginning to buck your hips back against him, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach. finger nails leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as tears prick in your eyes.
steve groans as his heavy balls slap against the back of your thighs, pushing himself fully inside, ‘i’m not.. hmph.. not gonna last long,’ arm beginning to buckle with the weight of him.
you clench around him as your high topples over at his words, burying your face into the pillow next to you. unable to withhold the high pitched wail from leaving your mouth, barely managing to muffle the sound.
his rhythm falters, hips slamming into yours for the last few desperate pumps before he pulls himself out. thick ropes of cum spurting out and onto his hand. and the bed. and your thigh. crying out as his chest heaves above you.
‘holy shit,’ his arm gives way and he ends up next to you on the mattress, panting for air as he reaches for a dirty shirt on the floor, using the first thing he could find to clean off his hand.
you turn your head to face him, a lazy smile on your face as he offers the shirt out to you, mouthing a small sorry.
he throws it to the other side of the room, running a hand over his damp face, ‘i uh.. i last way longer normally,’ bashful and doubting his performance. it was only because it was you.
‘steve,’ you smile, grabbing his blanket to pull over your body, ‘don’t do that,’ seeing the shy boy from once before, you much preferred the steve from earlier.. confident and sure of himself.
‘yeah.. sorry,’ his lips curling into a soft smile, turning his body towards yours, arm snaking out to pull you closer, clammy palm resting on the small of your back.
you giggle quietly in response, settling in to your new position, sharing the blanket with him.
your eyes don’t leave each other’s as he begins to babble about something from the bar, clinging onto your skin as if you were somehow going to slip away.
-
you hadn’t even realised that you’d fallen asleep in steve’s room.
so when eddie comes in unannounced in the early morning, you thank your lucky stars that you’re facing the wall with steve’s body hiding yours. shoving your face into the pillow to hide yourself, hair sprawled around you, helping your case.
‘yo.. bro,’ he whispers, stepping into the room and over a pile of clothes, ‘good night?’ he cocks his eyebrow at steve as he turns around, glaring at the interruption.
‘uh.. yeah yeah,’ steve panics, realising what eddie had walked into and the chaos that’d ensue if he figured it out, his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
‘sounded like it,’ eddie chuckles, shaking his boot to rid it of the discarded shirt on the floor, ‘look, have you got ten bucks? i can give it back tomorrow,’ he bargains, smiling at steve.
‘yeah.. yeah, my wallet’s on the desk,’ steve nods towards the desk, adjusting himself to make sure he was covering you when eddie stomps over to the desk.
ten dollars was a worthy sacrifice to not have to deal with eddie’s temper tantrum in the morning. it wasn’t like he’d never find out. just not now.
‘thanks bro.. i’ll get it back to you tomorrow, hey,’ eddie rubs his stubbly face, ‘d’you know if dickhead’s in? i knocked but, uh.. no answer,’ quite obviously referring to you.
you have to resist the urge to sit up and cuss him out.
‘uhh.. no, no idea sorry,’ steve shakes his head apologetically, lying through his teeth.
‘alright well, have fun,’ wiggling his eyebrows as he exits, closing the door softly.
you exhale when the door clicks shut, though you stay in the same position, not entirely convinced he’s not stood outside the door listening.
‘don’t speak,’ you mouth to steve, who looks wearily at you until the front door closes and you fully turn to face him.
‘jesus christ,’ you breathe, ‘he doesn’t knock?’
‘usually he does.. i bet he wanted to see who was in here,’ his arm twitches, unsure of whether to keep clinging on to your waist or to remove it.
‘i mean,’ you shrug, ‘he’ll found out eventually, right?’ it was inevitable, especially as you were living together.
‘i s’pose.. you don’t care?’ taken aback by your nonchalance towards the situation.
‘not really.. i just don’t think he needs to know, not yet,’ you croak, he had literally just banged another chick practically right in front of you. any guilt you may have felt about the situation had disappeared.
‘yeah,’ he gives you a tired smile, nuzzling his head into the pillow, all soft and sweet.
‘i dunno about you but i’m going back to sleep, until at least lunch,’ your hand running along the curve of his bicep, mere inches away from each other.
he hums in response, his lingering arm pulling your waist closer, eyes drooping as sleep takes over.
-
you’re awoken again by the slam of the front door, robin leaving for work. letting steve know that everyone in the apartment could hear your late night activities.
steve grumbles, complaining about her heavy-handedness. you leer over at the alarm clock, wanting to get out of steve’s room before eddie gets back from work, making sure there were no possible chances of awkward questions this afternoon.
‘shit,’ you hiss, climbing over his still half-asleep body and grabbing whatever t-shirt you could find, pulling it on over your head, ‘eddie’s back in like five.. i’m gonna get out of here now, saves the aggro..,’ slipping into your discarded underwear.
‘right.. good idea,’ he mumbles, one arm folded underneath his pillow as he comes to fully.
you sprint out of there and into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal when eddie strolls through the door, whistling some tune to himself. he glances at you before taking a seat at the cluttered dining table.
you don’t say a word, discarding your plan to sit at the table and instead tucking in to your cereal on the counter, pretending to read some flyer.
‘where were you last night?’ he asks, leaning back on the chair to get a full view of you, ‘i knocked on your door but..’ narrowing his eyes.
‘i was probably fuckin’ asleep,’ shoving another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, making brief eye contact with the man.
he squints, trying to figure out why that shirt was so fucking familiar. was it his? were you wearing his shirt in some weird goading way?
steve emerges from his room, shirtless and running a hand from his messy hair. eddie’s eyes flit between the shirt and steve. cogs slowly turning in his brain.
no. no the shirt wasn’t his.
it was the fucking shirt he’d kicked off of his foot when he’d stormed into steve’s room this morning. same boring design printed on the front.
on you.
from steve’s floor.
the night after steve had, very loudly, had a female friend over.
you’re oblivious, focussing on your bowl of soggy cornflakes as steve clatters around behind you. making his own bowl. neither of you looking at each other, making everything ten times more obvious.
‘you’re fuckin’ joking,’ he loudly proclaims, standing from the table, nearly sending the chair flying backwards.
your head shoots up, confused by what he had seemingly angered himself over now, ‘what?’ eyebrows knitted together as he storms over, mouth hung open in disbelief.
‘you fucked him?’ jabbing his finger at steve, ‘my best friend?’ arms flying around in anger.
you look to steve for some help, eddie positively fuming, his jaw clenched at your lack of an answer. in fact, your reaction, or lack thereof, had only solidified everything.
‘no,’ you eventually croak, ‘i- we-, that wasn’t me,’ stuttering for some excuse, though you know he didn’t buy a word of it.
eddie’s face twists up in a mix of anger and hurt, eyes glossing over as his lips tremble, ‘eddie-,’ steve begins, cut off as eddie storms out of the tiny kitchen, grabbing his wallet from the table and pausing when he opens the front door.
‘you deserve each other,’ he snarls before disappearing, shaking the walls with his violent slam of the door.
you stare at steve in silent disbelief, dropping the spoon into your discarded bowl. you’d predicted his reaction to go something along the lines of that, just not expecting it so soon. hoping to have prepared a solid speech in the meantime.
‘shit.’
‘it’s okay.. h-he was gonna find out eventually.. he’ll calm down,’ steve tries to soothe you, well aware that eddie held onto his anger, let it simmered until it all bubbled over and some poor soul got the brunt of months of rage.
you want to feel bad, feel guilty but when steve’s hand sits on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, it vanishes. his chestnut eyes providing a sense of comfort you’d never felt before.
-
you were used to eddie being out. missing in action for days on end. but by the fourth day of him not coming back to the apartment, the pit in your stomach starts to worsen.
the guilt had caught up to you, as if you were the one who had shoved him out of the door. you had, in a metaphorical sense.
the first few days were, nice. though you felt worse for even feeling that. but, you’d been hanging out with steve more. it was different to before, getting to know his personal quirks, the things that made him tick. something you would’ve brushed off before.
you were friends, sure. you hadn’t really had the opportunity to get to know him like this before. it would’ve felt like some sort of betrayal to eddie. even though in some ways the way it had come about now was much worse.
on the fifth day, you’re sat on the couch with steve. picking the hangnail from your finger, wincing as it started to bleed.
‘d’you think he might’ve gone home?’ you ask, looking up at steve who was spaced out next to you.
they were from the same small town, had started out sharing classes in high school and had since been friends. admittedly growing apart when you’d come into the picture. you’d heard stories from the others about how close they used to be, never apart, according to jonathan.
‘i dunno.. he hates hawkins,’ steve shrugs, seeing the worry spread across your face, ‘but i could call his uncle? see if he’s there?’
you nod, thumb in your mouth trying to pull off more of the sore skin. he gets up to grab his phone, already dialling the number when he comes back into the room.
‘hey! wayne.. it’s steve- yeah yeah, i’m good man.. i was just wondering if eddie was there? oh no, uh- well.. we haven’t heard from him in a few days, y’know what he’s like… sure, thanks man,’ clicking the button and ending the call.
he looks over at you, a pitying look on his face as he shakes his head no.
‘i’m sure he’s alright.. he’s dramatic, you know that,’ he collapses onto the couch, this time closer than before, nudging your elbow with a weak smile.
you were well versed with eddie’s dramatic personality. having dealt with his temper tantrums and storm outs for years now. though, it had never seemed this bad before.
realistically, you knew he was probably crashing on a friend’s sofa. overstaying his welcome and partying too much. he was likely coming down from some insane party as you sat thinking about him.
‘i just.. feel bad,’ you whisper, leaning into steve’s side. his arm reaches around to your shoulder, rubbing softly against your arm.
‘i know..i do too,’ he admits, you and eddie hadn’t been a romantic thing. not even really a thing, if you were being honest. it was sex and partying, getting completely trashed and using each other in an attempt to fill the void inside of you both.
but steve and eddie had been friends for years now. they’d argued over the stupidest shit but never something like a girl. steve had had to genuinely weigh up whether his friendship with eddie was worth losing.
if eddie couldn’t get over it, would steve be able to repress his feelings for you? or would he be fine with losing eddie if it meant that you were together?
when robin gets back from work, she narrows her eyes at the two of you curled up against each other, ‘is this gonna be a regular thing?’
‘would you have a problem with it if it was?’ you ask, watching as she dumps her back and slumps on the empty seat.
‘oh no, i’m just thinking about how much peace and quiet i’ll get if you and eddie aren’t screaming at each other every day,’ kicking her doc martens from her feet and leaning into the cushions.
‘if he comes back,’ you remind her.
she hadn’t really seemed too fazed when he’d stormed out. thankful for no more early morning wake up calls from his wooden bed frame. but you can tell that even she was beginning to feel at least a tiny bit worried.
‘he still not called?’
you shake your head, ‘no one’s seen him, he’s not home.. i guess we’ve just gotta wait til he’s calmed down,’ shrugging, more so trying to convince yourself rather than her.
no matter what, eddie had a special place in your heart. even if it wasn’t love in the romantic sense, there was too much there to disregard that. he was your best friend at one point, how could you?
it’s another five days of fretting and concern before you hear a word from him. your phone rings in the middle of the night and you sit up, feeling along the nightstand for the buzzing plastic. an unrecognised number.
‘hello?’ you speak into the receiver.
steve stirs, waking up at the sound of your voice. admittedly, you’d been sleeping in his bed. sharing kisses and late-night chats about just about everything. it all felt very quick, but just right. like now that’d you’d both realised that you could have this, that anything other than this felt wrong.
‘hi,’ eddie’s voice rings out, recognisable even through the phone.
‘eddie? you’re okay? where are you?’ you babble, steve sits up at the mention of his name.
‘i’m uh- with my dad, i just, listen.. i need you to bring me some shit.. we’re going away and i’ve got nothing with me,’ his voice crackles and you can hear him shift around in the payphone box.
‘what? you’re going where? where are you?’ baffled, unsure if you were still asleep and not understanding him.
‘away, i’m staying in porter.. look, can you do it?’
‘eddie that’s-,’ but you stop yourself, ‘yeah, sure.. when?’
‘tomorrow, i just need some clothes, my watch and my savings.. they’re under my mattress.. tiny box, you’ll see it,’ he rushes, running out of minutes.
‘o-okay, where shall i meet you? i don’t know it well,’ you garble, nodding at steve when he mouths a confused porters?
‘little bar called sam’s.. i’ll be in there, i’ve gotta go, this thing’s running out,’ he sighs, muttering a small, ‘thank you,’ before the line goes dead.
‘he’s at the fucking beach.. wants me to drop some shit for him.. he said he’s with his dad? i-i thought his dad left..?’
‘he did,’ steve looks puzzled, taking the phone from your clutch and looking at the withheld number, trying to figure out if he could call it back, ‘he left years ago..’
-
eddie’s smile falters when he notices that you’d bought steve and robin along. steve dropping your hand the second his eyes meet eddie’s.
‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ the chair scraping the wooden floor as he stands abruptly.
the man you can only assume is his dad looks over, gripping onto the beer bottle, eyes flitting between his son and your trio.
‘eddie.. i asked them to, we wanted to know if you were okay,’ your voice shakes, frowning when he scowls at you. you’ve pissed him off, again.
‘i called you because i trusted you, not him,’ he spits, walking over to where you were stood by the door, ‘where’s my shit?’
‘it’s in the car,’ quickly coming up with a lie, trying to keep him talking for as long as possible, ‘i need to talk to you.. before you.. leave,’ you pout, trying to get him away from his dad.
‘about?’ he hits back harshly, still upset that you’d even dared to bring steve along.
‘about.. everything,’ you exhale shakily, ‘give me five minutes, please.’
he looks back at his dad who checks his watch before shrugging. he couldn’t give a less of a shit as long he got this promised money.
‘fine,’ he says through gritted teeth, storming past a gormless steve and robin and exiting the restaurant.
you glance at steve before following him out, not sure how much longer you could convince him you’d bought everything he’d asked for.
he’s already lighting up a cigarette when you reach the street, perched against the windowsill in days-old clothes. he looked a mess. even worse than his usual gritty self. eye-bags and a sunken face to match.
you breathe out, how do you even start a conversation like this? sorry i fucked your best friend but i actually really like him was probably not the best way to go about it.
‘i’m sorry,’ seemed like the best place to start, ‘it wasn’t fair to you.. what i- we did.. i can’t tell you how shit it makes me feel.. to know that i hurt you.’
he blows the smoke out of his mouth, expressionless, ‘okay.’
is that it? after his great big performance that was all he could say?
‘what?’
‘i said, okay.. what d’you expect me to do? start crying and begging you to love me?’ scoffing as he takes a long draw of the cigarette. his eyes cold, merciless as he glares at you.
‘you ran away.. made everyone worried sick about you.. and all you can say is okay?’
he shrugs, ‘i’m over it.. you’re welcome to each other,’ stubbing the cigarette out on the brick wall, stepping closer to you.
your mouth opens and shuts, flabbergasted by his stinking attitude, ‘shout at me, scream.. fuck- hit me if you want to.. stop pretending like you don’t care.. because i know you eddie munson and i know you do.’
his eyes narrow, intimidating as he towers above, ‘i don’t give a shit, you’re only upset because you want me to.. that’s too bad,’ his adam’s apple bobs, a tell-tale sign that he was lying.
your eyes search his for anything. a glimmer of weakness.
but his eyes are stern, emotionless as his brows thread together.
the door to the bar creaks open and his dad stomps out, muttering to himself, ‘c’mon son, let’s get the fuck out of here,’ replacing eddie’s spot on the windowless ledge and lighting his own cigarette.
he doesn’t break eye contact, ‘i’m gonna take a leak and then i want my shit,’ jaw tense as he barges through the door.
you squeeze your eyes shut, biting onto your bottom lip before cricking your neck. that hadn’t gone exactly to plan. now what the fuck were you gonna do when he realised you hadn’t brought the one thing he’d asked for.
‘i know what women like you do,’ his dad speaks up, taking a long drag on the cigarette, ‘you don’t get to fuck up his life and then happily move on.’
eyes springing open when you realise he’s talking to you, ‘what the fuck did you just say?’
he laughs, a deep belly-laugh, ‘you heard.’
you’d love to smash the smug look from his dirty face. knock his head into the brick wall and drag eddie kicking and screaming back to steve’s cat whether he liked it or not.
‘women like me? the only person who cares enough to drive all the way out to this shithole to save your son? is that what you meant?’ stepping up towards him, as if you were even capable of doing anything.
‘you came to rub it in.. flaunting in with pretty boy there,’ his lips snarl, ‘pathetic really, shouldn’t have bothered.’
eddie comes back out, robin and steve trailing behind, trying to converse with him but being completely blanked, ‘where’s my shit then?’
‘uh.. steve’s car,’ beckoning to where you’d parked somewhere in the distance.
steve flashes you a worried look knowing damn well there was nothing eddie could want in his car. luckily eddie doesn’t pick up on it and instead starts walking in the direction you’d motioned, expecting you all to follow.
‘why’re you in such a hurry?’ you call out from behind, trying desperately to bide time. he was certain to flip his shit the second you reached the car and he figured you’d lied to him.
‘because i want to get the fuck out of here,’ he snaps back, charging on ahead.
you walk in silence to steve’s car, nervously glancing over at steve as eddie and his disgusting pig of a father walk on ahead. steve reaches over and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze though it doesn’t really do much.
eddie’s spots the car first, striding over and peering into the windows, ‘where’s my shit then?’ turning to glare at you with a disgusted look on his face.
your mouth opens and closes, no viable excuse coming to mind, ‘eddie.. i didn’t bring anything-,’ swallowing as you gain some slight confidence, ‘i’m not letting you go with him.’
his dad completely flips, turning to his son, ‘you’re fucking useless, you know that? how the fuck d’you manage to mess this one up?’ practically foaming at the mouth.
‘dad i told her! this isn’t my fault.. we can still go.. i’ll find the cash somewhere,’ his eyes pleading with the estranged man, he had shrunk back into a scared little boy right before your eyes.
his father shoves him away, snarling at his son, ‘you think i actually want to go anywhere with you? my colossal fuck up of a son? you’re dreaming,’ positively fuming.
‘but.. dad,’ he’s almost begging now, regressing back to the night he watched his father walk out on his mom, feeling the heartache all over again.
steve steps up, getting closer to the pair, ‘you should go,’ placing his hand on the man’s arm.
he jerks his arm from steve’s grip, scoffing at you all, ‘don’t bother trying to find me again.. i don’t wanna know,’ poking his sausage finger into eddie’s chest before pulling himself away and trundling off back to the bar you’d met in.
your eyes immediately turn to eddie who was watching the man leave for the second time, tears pricking in his eyes. your chest pangs with hurt, you’d never meant for it to happen like this.
eddie speeds off in the opposite direction and you have to pull on steve’s arm to stop him from going after the boy, ‘he’ll come.. just.. give him a few minutes,’ nodding reassuringly.
steve sighs before turning to face you, ‘okay, you should go anyway.’
‘yeah.’
deciding that it had probably been enough time, you follow eddie’s path and eventually find him perched on a crumbling stoke wall, aggressively wiping his cheeks when he spots you walking over.
you sit in the empty spot next to him, staring down at the grey concrete. not wanting to break the silence and potentially piss him off more.
‘fuck,’ eddie finally breathes, sniffing and wiping his nose on his filthy sleeve. he clearly hadn’t showered in days and you wonder what on earth they could’ve possibly been doing.
‘i’m sorry,’ you croak. you weren’t just sorry for not allowing him to run off with that wretched man but for the fact that you and steve had quite obviously betrayed him.
you hear him swallow and then a rustling from his pocket. looking up to find him with a cigarette hanging onto his lip. he offers the box out to you, as he usually would.
delicately taking one from the pack and placing it in your mouth, waiting patiently for the lighter.
you sit smoking your cigarettes in the calming silence for a few minutes. gazing out at the horizon, the sky awash with all sorts of moody greys. fitting.
‘are you coming home?’ you ask quietly, standing from the wall with your hands shoved in your pockets.
eddie exhales, his eyes closing briefly before he stands, ‘yeah.. yeah let’s go,’ admitting defeat as he lets go of his dad forever, ready to put an end to his reckless escapade.
robin and steve are leaning against his car when you walk back. there had been a silent agreement to not mention it. just get in the car and go.
you sat in the back with eddie, watching as he stares out of the window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. you move over into the middle seat, resting your head against his shoulder.
things would be alright.
-
things had been actually sorta alright. eddie had seemingly come to terms with you and steve becoming a thing. at least, if he hadn’t, he’d been keeping it to himself.
you tried to keep things respectable of course, jumping apart when he’d enter the room or going off to your own room and creeping into steve’s when eddie had gone to bed. but he wasn’t stupid. and you knew he wasn’t stupid. it just seemed better than rubbing it in his face.
things were completely different with steve and you’d felt a sense of pressure that hadn’t been present with eddie. steve was soft and kind but you couldn’t be so laidback about everything with him.
when you’d disappear at parties to split a bag with someone, he’d want to know. or when you were upset and stressed out, he’d want to know why, how he could help.
which was fair enough, obviously. it was just different. before, eddie would offer some generic advice and a spliff and be done with it. now, you were expected to actually address your issues head-on, not just bury them with sex and drink.
finals week had been harsh on all of you. the apartment in disarray as you were all working overtime to save your grade and not get kicked out of college.
you’d, perhaps a bit unfairly, taken your stress out on steve. arguing with him about menial shit that you didn’t really care about, just finding any excuse to shout and push him away.
he’d sit there and take it, offering sensible solutions and trying to resolve whatever bullshit you’d made up that day. a stark difference to eddie who would’ve screamed straight back at you.
come friday night, you’d all finished exams, sitting around the table when eddie swanned in, flapping some flyer for a party, going on about how you should all go.
‘we’re finished, free,’ he argued, pleading his case to the three of you.
robin flat-out refused, said she needed to sleep for a solid week and then she’d be ready to party. steve umm’d and ahh’d, settling on staying in but he was down to go out tomorrow.
‘i’ll go,’ you speak up, eyeing eddie from across the table, you hadn’t hung out alone yet. this would be a new feat.
‘alright,’ he shrugs, looking at steve for his permission or straight up denial of you two going alone.
steve just nods, ‘alright, call me if you need anything,’ glancing at you with an assured smile.
he wasn’t worried. not really. you’d shown him plenty of times that you loved him even despite your incessant attempts to push him away. even in the bad arguments, he’d kept his cool and waited for you to come to him, keeping everything on your terms.
you’re nervous though. you and eddie partying together had never been a good idea, egging each other on, getting utterly trashed just because he’d dare you to.
not tonight. you swore to yourself before leaving. pressing a tender kiss on steve’s lips, leaving traces of your sticky lipgloss behind.
-
eddie’s pov
it’s a little after midnight when steve gets a phone call from eddie, asking him to come and pick you up. still waking up as he walks across campus, passing countless drunk students as he finds the thumping party.
you’re incoherent on the couch, steve’s eyebrows raising expectedly as he walks into the room. eddie stood to the side watching as your arms instinctively wrap around steve’s neck. even in your drunken stupor you went straight to steve.
it fucking stings.
he looks on worriedly as steve hoists you from the couch, ‘hey man.. uh, she said some pretty weird things tonight, i dunno.. i don’t think she’s okay,’ recalling your earlier slurred words.
you hadn’t meant to, but you’d spilled everything to eddie. a tequila fuelled rant about how steve was so perfect and how bad you felt that you just weren’t. how you didn’t know how to stop pushing him away, even when you didn’t want to.
steve nods, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know you were on this self-destructive warpath. he just wasn’t sure how to tell you that you didn’t need to do this without sounding like a dick.
your arms lazily flop around his neck, laying your head against his chest as he carried you bridal style through the party and right across campus back to your apartment. eddie trailing behind in silence.
‘thanks.. for calling me,’ steve smiles as he nudges his bedroom door open just as eddie was about to disappear into his own room.
‘course,’ he nods, melancholy as he watches your fingers curl around steve’s jacket, pulling him down onto the bed with you, babbling a chorus of steve’s and love you’s as his door closes.
cursing himself for never being that soft with you. never providing that level of safety.
he lies awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. at some point he hears you tumble out of steve’s room, rushing to the bathroom and subsequently throwing up into the toilet. debating whether to hop out of his own bed and help.
but then the padding of steve’s feet make their way through the hallway, his soft voice helping you brush your teeth and get cleaned up. eddie’s assistance was unnecessary. damn, he wouldn’t have a clue what to even do.
on the occasions that you’d thrown up in the morning, eddie would’ve led in bed and laughed. called you a pussy and waited for you to crawl back to bed in a mood. he wasn’t gentle like steve. that shit came as a second nature to him but to eddie? not a touch of it.
he even hears the soft kiss he gives you on the way back to his room, your appreciative little murmur and the click of his door shutting again. 
and he wants to kick himself. scream and cry and throw a tantrum because in an ideal world, that would’ve been him.
but he can’t blame you, no matter how much he tried. it’s his fault he’s such a colossal fuck up. not yours. not steve’s. his.
he eventually gives up and moves to the couch, not getting much luck at sleeping in his bed. the suns rising when he hears snippets of your hushed conversation.
it didn’t sound angry. or even upset. just barely audible speaking’s about your feelings.
‘i know.. i don’t mean to,’ he can hear, a twinge of sadness in your tone.
‘you don’t need to.. not with me,’ steve mumbles and the blankets rustle, snapping him out of his trance.
he can hear small i love you’s and the sound of lips smacking. but then your muffled breathy moans start and the bile rises in his throat. undeniably he knew what was going on in there, everything being confirmed by the rhythmic creaking of the mattress.
and he knows what you look like. he can see it. feel it. hell, he lived for it at one point
pushes himself from the sofa and straight out of the door. not wanting to hear a second more.
-
you don’t feel as bad as expected in the morning, rough but not as bad as you should be feeling.
robin’s now ready to celebrate, steve agreeing and you almost want to hurl at the mention of going out. eddie sits in silence at the end of the table, he’d been pretty strange this morning and you’d wondered if you said something to upset him last night.
you could vaguely recall the self-pitying spiel you’d forced him to listen to. physically cringing at the fact you’d started crying and wailing about steve to him.
robin suggests having some people over, just a small thing with close friends. maybe if everyone was up for it you could all go out afterwards. that you could agree to.
she rounds the troops, calling the friend you all shared. who all agreed to get there at eight. something small and casual she repeats down the phone.
there’s a few tag-alongs, people you’d met briefly at parties or friends of friends who had been dragged along. so it wasn’t the small gathering you’d pictured with just the gang. but it was okay.
the speaker being turned to max and the living room full of people. everyone in high spirits because finals had finished and were relatively confident that they’d at least scraped a pass.
you edge through the crowd, waking over to steve who was splayed out on the couch, spliff hanging from his fingers. he grins when he sees you, opening his arms.
‘hey pretty girl,’ beckoning for you to climb onto his lap, arms snug around your waist as he passes the spliff to you, still giggling at his pet name.
eddie glowers from behind the couch, huffing before pushing himself up and storming into the kitchen. he hadn’t realised how much he’d already drank, liquor coursing through his veins.
‘watch it,’ someone exclaims when eddie barges into their arm, subsequently spilling his beer onto the boys shirt.
eddie sees red. turning to the boy and snarling as he shoves his chest, sending him to the floor.
‘what the fuck did you say?’ grabbing the boy by the collar before smashing his fist into the side of the poor boys face.
steve hears the commotion, leering over the sofa to see what the fuck was even going on. he shoves you off of his lap, running to go and grab eddie from on top of this boy.
you finally see what everyone had crowded around, watching as eddie’s fist pummels into his now bloody face. only easing when steve grabs onto his arms, gasping for breath as he’s thrown back into reality. realisation setting in about what he’d just down.
people rush to the unconscious boy, somebody screaming to call an ambulance. the music cuts out harshly, silence echoing around the room as you stare at eddie, wide-eyed. terrified.
you’d never seen him like this. so brutal, covered in someone else’s blood. his chest falls and rises, staring back at you with an equally as horrified expression. steve is saying something to him but it’s not registering. a ringing in his ears as the world crashed and burned around him.
the police turn up alongside the ambulance crew. taking statements from whoever hadn’t left and eventually cuffing eddie. muttering about crazy fucking kids and quite forcefully pulling him from the apartment.
his eyes lingering on yours as he’s guided out. steve’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. you’re still in disbelief, tears welling in your eyes as you remember how unforgiving and downright cruel he’d been.
‘you wanna go to bed?’ steve asks, chest vibrating with his low voice. fingers combing through your hair, in your own corner of the living room as robin and nancy attempt to clean the floor.
jonathan and argyle are picking up tiny shards of glass, not an ounce of conversation between them. all still reeling from eddie’s outburst. you were sure he was going to jail, there wasn’t any way he could possibly wriggle out of this one.
‘we should-,’ the words getting caught in your throat, ‘we need to help clean,’ pulling back to look at the state of the room, discarded cups and splatters of alcohol on the walls.
‘we’re nearly done.. you should go to bed,’ robin nods, wringing the cloth out into the sink.
even they had come to the conclusion that this was something to do with you. you and steve in particular. the way eddie’s eyes had locked onto you the second steve had pulled him off of the boy.
you knew it. he’d been frosty and unusual with you all morning. with everyone in fact.
-
eddie emerges from his room for the first time in days. looking worse for wear and feeling just as shit. the tag on his ankle restricting him from leaving the apartment freely.
he peers down at the blinking red light, mentally cursing the plastic as he drags his feet along the carpet. he can hear you and steve chatting quietly, not really able to make out what was being said.
not expecting you both to be sprawled out on the couch, your leg draped over his waist as your delicate fingers combed through his hair. the last few days had been so bleak, that he couldn’t really find it in himself to hate that you were sharing these moments with steve.
he sighs loudly, hoping to let you know he’d entered the room. not wanted to be involuntarily including in whatever may have happened next.
you sit up slightly, gazing at him stood behind the kitchen counter, ‘hey,’ it’s quiet, but he hears it. almost deciding to ignore until he remembers how much you’d doted on him and helped him recently.
‘hi,’ but he doesn’t look back, staring into the empty fridge, waiting for something to materialise. but it doesn’t.
‘when’s your court date?’
the words sear in his ear, an unwelcome subject.
‘next tuesday,’ deciding upon a swig of milk straight from the carton, not exactly the five-course meal he was hoping for.
‘okay well, we were.. we’re gonna come, y’know.. for support,’ your eyes are unrelenting, following him around the kitchen.
‘don’t bother, i’m pleading innocent,’ completely monotonous in his response.
he’d already argued with the state provided lawyer about this. a shoddy man who could not care less whether eddie went down or not, just wanting to cash his cheque at the end of it all.
the balding man had called him stupid, ‘there are multiple witnesses.. plead guilty and they’ll probably pity you n’ slap you with some community service or summit.. don’t be stupid son.’
you scoff, using steve’s chest as leverage as you sit up properly, ‘you’re joking? right?’
his eyes finally meet yours, thumping his fists on the marble counter, ‘i am innocent,’ no one could understand where he was coming from, not even the man who was being paid to at least pretend to care and understand.
‘you beat the shit out of him, eddie.. you broke his fucking jaw,’ your eyes are wide, looking at him like he’s an idiot- which he was, but not about this.
‘i was provoked, self defence,’ he says in all serious. he was frustrated, lashed out but at the end of it all, the guy had bashed him first.
‘wh- because he accidentally knocked into you? you really must be fucking stupid.. what are you thinking?’
eddie notices steve, or what he could see of him, tense up, obviously not wanting to anger the violent monster eddie had become in so many people’s eyes.
‘it’s my choice.. i was fucking provoked, saw some stupid shit.. that’s not my fault,’ relinquishing the blame to you.
in his eyes, if he hadn’t seen the disgusting display of affection, he probably wouldn’t have fucked up that boy. but he had, and that wasn’t his fault. so how was he guilty?
‘you’re ridiculous.. i actually can’t believe you,’ your eyes full of disappointment.
the way your face falls, eyes narrowed and sharp as knives makes his heart twist. genuine hurt flashed on your face. almost paralleling the horrified expression you’d held as he was cuffed and dragged away.
‘it’s my decision, i wouldn’t expect you to know a thing about what it’s like to be me,’ kicking the fridge door closed with a loud thump.
you disappear from his sight, flopping back down onto steve’s chest with an exasperated sigh. he rolls his eyes before stomping off into his bedroom. his mood probably wouldn’t be so terrible if he could just leave this godforsaken apartment.
actually, why shouldn’t he? if you were so certain that he was going to jail anyway, what harm was there in going out? fuck it.
so he gets dressed, pulling his denim jacket on and spritzing himself with aftershave. he’d worry about the tag later, surely one of his buddies would have something to hack it off with. hopefully with minimal damage to his leg.
you don’t even look up from steve’s eyes when he comes back out, having had enough of his idiotic attitude for the day.
‘woah, where are you go-,’ steve starts before being cut off with the front door shutting, he was gone, without so much of a look back.
jogging down the stairs and out of this suffocating hellhole.
-
it doesn’t take long for the police to show up, banging their fists on the door and red in the face with anger.
they grilled you and steve for what felt like hours. making sure you hadn’t helped in his escape. tearing his room apart for some sort of clue to where he’d gone.
‘we found the tag at a location not far from here.. could anyone be hiding him? he’s in serious trouble.. we need anything you’ve got,’ the officer pleads, frustrated with having to deal with this bullshit on a thursday night. you don’t blame him.
you shake your head, ‘no.. i-i mean, there’s a few bars down on main but our friends aren’t stupid enough to help him.’
any previous feelings of worry had disappeared, replaced with frustration. you weren’t prepared to spend your whole life trying to find eddie every time he decided to run away. he so obviously didn’t give a shit about what you thought, it was a waste of energy at this point.
the officer sighs, ‘right, well you let us know if he gets in contact or comes back here,’ rummaging in his pocket for a small bit of card, ‘that’s my personal number.. call me straight away.’
you nod, thumbing the glossy card and flopping back onto the couch. steve shows them out, closing the door softly after they leave. he gives you a look, full of pity. he doesn’t say a thing but you know what he’s thinking.
‘i’m done,’ holding your hands up, ‘he can get himself out of this one.. i don’t care anymore,’ surrendering completely.
he nods, looking as just as tired as you felt. sometimes you forget that this isn’t just between you and eddie, steve is right in the middle of it all too, staying quiet and holding back for eddie’s sake.
you’d tried to be courteous and thoughtful with eddie. pulling away from steve when he’d enter the room, trying not to be so overly affectionate in front of him. you felt like maybe you owed him that for how you’d gone about it, but why?
not once had he ever shown interest in being with you romantically, he was the one that’d explicitly said that you and him were friends with some added benefits. screw him.
‘you hungry? i wanna get out of here,’ pushing yourself from the couch and throwing your arms around steve’s waist, cheek squished against his chest.
‘i could eat,’ returning the hug, swaying slightly as his hands roam around your back.
-
eddie’s pov
eddie checks his phone for the umpteenth time.
no new notifications
he was anticipating at least something from you by now. hell, even a pathetic hi would’ve sufficed. the man wasn’t dumb, choosing to hole himself up in gareth’s basement with a six-pack rather than hitting the main spots.
he questions whether the dinghy, dark basement was any better than the confines of the room he’d escaped. supposing that you and steve weren’t next door, anything would be better.
he debates just calling you first. curious to know why you hadn’t called. maybe after the next beer. or maybe now. fuck it, it’s already dialling.
it rings and rings, becoming increasingly concerned with your well-being.
‘what?’ your voice rings out after the fifth or sixth ring.
he’s taken aback, ‘hello to you too,’ taking another swig of beer, his knees pulled up to his chest.
‘what d’you want?’
christ. you really weren’t falling for it this time.
‘nothin’.. just expected to hear from you by now, that’s all.’
he can hear the eye roll through the phone, your tiny almost inaudible little tut, ‘i’m not saving you this time.’
‘i didn’t ask you to.’
‘so why’d you call then? i’m busy.’
‘you with steve?’ he doesn’t even know why he asked, of course you were.
‘yeah, i am.. is that what you wanted to hear? or were you hoping i was out searching for you with the police?’
ouch. you’d called him out. figured out his silly game and threw it straight back in his face.
‘i didn’t- you just had to rub it in, didn’t you?’ anger rising in his throat, ‘you always do.’
‘you think i’m doing this to make you jealous? this isn’t about you anymore.. you need to get over yourself,’ you sigh, empathetic about the harsh words that’d just spilled out, ‘i love him, eddie.. you’re gonna have to deal with that.’
and with that the phone clicks. you’d hung up. you had hung up on him, no grovelling or pleading for him to come back home. that was it. the harsh truth and now he had to just sit with it.
his head falls back against the cold brick, staring up at the damp covered ceiling, weighing up his options. he knew he’d fucked up. best case scenario, he’d get a couple extra months on his sentence. worst case, they’d throw the book at him for wasting their time.. not to mention the already hefty sentence for the assault.
you had completely and utterly exhausted yourself trying to support him and even you had had enough. he only had himself to blame for that. maybe jail would be a good thing? he could get his head straight.. get over you, maybe even find some purpose in his life.
he pulls another beer from the pack, cracking it open and taking a long swig. exhaling as the bitter liquid seeps down his throat. there was only one way out of this fucked situation and he knew that.
-
eddie perks up when he hears your key in the door, sat on the couch for what seemed like hours waiting for you both to get back.
your face drops the instant you see him, gripping onto steve’s hand as you walk into the dimly lit living room.
eddie stands, holding up his hands, ‘i’m gonna hand myself in.. i just-,’ he exhales deeply, ‘i wanted to say goodbye,’ jaw tense as he looms between you and steve.
‘you are? do you want me to call the sheriff? i- he gave me his number..’
‘no, no.. i’m gonna go down there.. it’s easier,’ eddie motions towards the door, shaking his head.
you stand dumbfounded for a second before nodding slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, ‘it’s the right thing to do..’ the lump in your throat growing as you look back at the pathetic man in front of you.
steve gives him a weak smile, patting his hand on your arm. there’s a brief moment of silence. the three of you all staring back at one another in awe of the fucked up mess you’d wound up in.
‘c’mere,’ steve motions to eddie, walking over to the boy with arms outstretched. he pulls him into a bear hug, clapping his palm on eddie’s back.
from the look on eddie’s face squished against steve’s shoulder you can tell he needed it, ‘i’ll miss you man..’ he breathes into his best friend’s sweater.
‘we’ll come and visit.. you’re not getting rid of me that easy,’ his laugh is shaky as he pulls away, smiling proudly at his friend.
you stand slightly behind steve, watching on with tears brimming in your eyes. even though steve had tried to reassure you, you couldn’t help but feel so guilty that this had ultimately all happened because of you.
eddie walks over slowly, throwing his arms around your body, gripping his fingers into your arms knowing that this may very well be the last time he ever got to hold you like this.
your arms cling around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest, ‘i’m proud of you..’ was all you managed to croak out, tears wetting his dirty t-shirt.
he sniffs, swallowing the lump in his throat, ‘thank you.. for everything,’ because truly, you were the only person to never give up on him, even if he had made it incredibly difficult for you.
you lift your head off of his chest, staring up at him with sodden cheeks, bottom lip quivering as you let go of him. both physically and emotionally.
he puffs his cheeks out, wiping his face with the back of his hand before clearing his throat and nodding at the pair of you, ‘you take care of her..’ eyebrow raised.
‘aye aye captain,’ steve gives him a tight lipped smile and a half-assed salute, watching as the man he had grown up with walked out of the apartment, head held high and a newfound spring in his step.
the end of the beginning.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve stranger things#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things x you#steve harrington fic#eddie munson#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#steve harrington smut
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Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)
pairing: lee chan x fem!reader
genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?
description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset
warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr
quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"
wordcount: 8.2k
Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined.
Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend.
“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry.
Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”
He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago.
“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.
Your life was ruined.
“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.
“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers.
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can?”
“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully.
“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.
“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…”
Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene.
Oh. Okay.
You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up.
”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out.
You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.
You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest.
God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed.
You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up.
It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew.
You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you.
“Y/n?”
You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?”
He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.
“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.
Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.”
“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.”
Another pause. “Old Yeller.”
The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too.
“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?
A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.”
The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words.
The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.
“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!”
_____________________________
Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward.
What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.
“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.
You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.
“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.”
You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you.
“Alright,” he whispered to himself.
_____________________________
You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal.
You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so.
And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation.
“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.”
Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago.
Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges.
Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side.
And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”
You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”.
Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said.
And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.
He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.”
You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away.
He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.
“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.”
“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral.
“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?”
You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically.
“I’m not lying.”
You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu.
“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.”
A pause. You sat up.
“Oh.”
He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.
Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.”
“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.”
It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly.
“Bye, N/n.”
“Bye, Channie.”
He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.
It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.”
You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.
When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears.
_____________________________
A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.
That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café.
“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously.
“Yes, we’re worried about you!”
“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.
“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.”
“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan.
“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”
“Did you just say ‘fricken’?”
“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.”
“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.”
“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”
“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--”
“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.
“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.”
Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006.
“Thank you anyway.”
_____________________________
Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water.
Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost.
Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank.
“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him.
“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.”
Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?”
For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.”
A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?”
“Uh-”
“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-”
“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.”
Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.”
“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.”
Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?”
All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.
But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.”
Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.
“Fuck this.”
Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward.
It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse?
But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.
“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him.
“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.
Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater.
“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared.
“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.”
He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out.
“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible.
And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.
“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.”
“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?”
“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.”
Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?”
“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.
“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!”
Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.
“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-”
“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.”
Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.
“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.”
You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-”
Yes.
Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp.
Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.
“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.
“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again.
He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle.
“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.
“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.
“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop.
You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!”
He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat.
“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.”
Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast.
He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”
You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.”
You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.
He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.
“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.”
You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in.
You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes.
“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.”
“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.”
“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.”
His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!”
At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach.
Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.
“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed.
“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."
Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.
“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.
“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.
“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."
#lee chan x reader#chan x reader#lee chan smut#chan smut#dino smut#dino x reader#svt chan x reader#svt dino x reader#svt x reader#svt smut#svt angst#dino angst#chan angst#lee chan angst
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i can't help but feel like my drawing days are kind of over. not entirely, i'll still be drawing from time to time. and deffo not because i want to. but i'm having this exact same feeling since mid 2022, since i was really struggling with my elective period, i kind of disconnected with art there and never truly found my way back.
on top of everything that came after - moving, starting a job and working to be good at it which leaves such little room for other things because i can't handle my life well - there is just so much horrible shit going on. and i'm having a hard time comprehending it.
a part of me also feels very stupid for drawing one thing for almost 4 years now constantly, but another part of me knows "hey, but this makes you happy". it's a constant battle in my head because online spaces are like school grounds, and i don't actually wanna stand in the corner as that one kid that just can't shut up about that one character. but then again all i ever did was drawing fanart so... what does it. who gives a shit. be cringe and be free alright. but it kinda feels so hollow, esp. when you're at it for so long. a lot of mutuals move on. some are not even active anymore anywhere. and i wonder what happened. plus a huge chunk of the tone of the fandom has changed. also with the source material getting butchered so hard (since the release of ow2) it just kills the fun. playing this game used to be fun. playing this game was one thing that helped me getting through the last meters of university. it's like watching the downfall of the simpsons again without making the comparison too set in stone, just... this thing that used to be decent and nice and watching it getting ruined in real time (broken promises about pve, the recent gameplay changes?? the lore was fucked up from the start but they kind of tried, now it's just skins for 20+ dollars) while still having feelings for the characters is shit. anyway...
i recently went through a big folder of stuff i'd drawn at the age of 12-15 and there were so many fucked up but cool monster and cyborgs designs and just silly stupid stuff and all i could think of was that i felt so distanced from it, like i don't even know i think this is normal? because a lot of time has passed and a lot has happened and i knew i've drawn all this but i wasn't able to locate the person who did in my present me now and... it's just so normal that things move constantly forward but i feel like i missed huge chunks and passed a few stops and now i'm kind of lost.
i don't even know what i'm trying to say here anymore. i just feel sad because it feels like sth is slipping out of my grasp or sth has changed tremendously and i don't know how to make damage control.
i keep trying tho, i try to draw once a week at least. it's just like as soon as i take a step back and look at it i don't feel it at all. gonna continue tho, until it makes sense again i hope.
#this got a bit deep for saying i don't feel like art and i don't feel like it since 2022#sorry for whining about this topic for so long already on here and twitter#but i've been drawing since 2004 and i can't deal with the feeling#of it slipping away#also ppl always recommend doing OCs or getting a new hyperfixation but#tbh i don't have the big brain powers for this#can't just switch or come up with sth new on the spot#esp with work#work is just very all consuming on so many lvls
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