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eyelessfaces · 4 months

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I'll be the silence ringing through and through and through

santiago garcia x reader

summary: if santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind– it would have been possible, a few months ago. or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up. in short; santi wants you back.

warnings: mentions of a breakup but no reason is mentioned, alcohol consumption

tags: f!reader, exes to lovers, inevitable angst, fluff

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

happy new year!!!! randomly dropping a santi fic to start it right hhhh

fic title is from the song "heart to heart" by fiddlehead :)

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

If Santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind–

It would have been possible, a few months ago.

Or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up, and where he would be holding you by the waist and kissing your cheek instead of having to watch you from afar, scrutinizing every littlest movement of yours while he was slumped in Frankie’s couch, like an hermit, feeling helpless, the neck of his beer being the only thing to kiss his lips tonight.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, maybe everything would seem way less dramatic tomorrow, save for the hangover headache – but no, scratch that, he wasn’t even drunk, just barely tipsy, so no, tomorrow won’t be better.

It must be the sight of you laughing at another man’s joke then, probably.

Was he hitting on you? Was he just a friend, like Benny, Will and Frankie were to you?

He shouldn’t care; that wasn’t his business, that wasn’t his problem. Not anymore. Not that he had been the kind to carefully observe your every movement any time you talked to another man back when you were together. He had never really been of that kind, he trusted you.

Except here, right now, it was his problem. For some reason, it felt like it was, and even more than before, when you were still together.

Because now that you didn’t love him anymore, there was nothing to stop you from doing anything with that man.

Would that man fill the hole Santi had left in your heart? Would he make you happier that Santi ever had?

Probably. He was probably a good man, would be a good boyfriend, wouldn’t fuck everything up. Would probably even marry you, and he’d be damn right to.

“He’s gay” Will snorts, plopping down next to Santi, giving a small pat to his chest. Santi’s gaze finally departs from you to turn to his right, where his friend has settled next to him.

“Good to know, but I‘m not interested in him,” Santi jokes, looking down at his half full beer. Half empty.

“That, I know.” Will cocks his head to the side, a more serious expression over his face as he brings his beer to his mouth. Santi’s gaze darts back to you and that man talking, a sick feeling filling his stomach as he sees you smile and shake your head frantically just the way you used to when he would come up with a shitty joke. “I’m like, eighty three percent sure she’s still in love with you.” Will speaks again, nudging Santi’s knee with his own.

“Seventeen percent of what?” Santi chuckles, more convinced that the rest of that percentage is the most important part.

“Seventeen percent of, you still fucked up, man.” Will says, patting Santi’s knee before getting up from the couch, already. “I’m not good at math dude, but all I can tell you is, it’s worth trying again!” he declares over the music, pointing at Santi before disappearing through the crowd.

Easier said than done.

Santi sighs, bites the inside of his cheek as he runs a hand over his few days old stubble.

He had never had any issue talking to people with ease, but for some reason, the idea of talking to you tonight seemed like the most intimidating thing he ever had to do in his entire life.

But god, did he want to look at you in the eyes again. To have you make that focused frown whenever you were attentively listening to someone. To see the way your lips curled up into a smile when you could pre shot a joke, and the way you still pretended not to know what the punchline was, and still ended up laughing.

Santi smiles to himself, finishes his beer, and when he looks up, you’re not in the crowd anymore. Then Benny joins him when he goes to the kitchen for a refill, and you happen to slip out of his mind for the time being.

—

The air is crisp, compared to the smothering heat inside. It tickles your cheeks, the tip of your ears, it hits every exposed area of skin, the sweat over it now feeling ice cold.

It’s all you needed and wanted, so you shouldn’t complain.

You walk back and forth along Frankie’s porch, the overwhelming feeling of the slight tipsiness and the fast beating of your heart simmering down, and you lean against the wall, taking a deep breath.

You turn at the sound of the door opening beside you, the loud, previously muffled sound of the music now clear, ending up face to face with the one person you did your best to not go talk to all night long.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go” Santi apologizes, still firmly holding the doorknob, starting to go back inside.

“No, no, it’s alright” you say, inviting him to stay with you. “I didn’t privatize the porch” you joke, giving him an awkward smile.

He chuckles as he tentatively steps outside, closing the door behind him, leaning his back against the wall beside you. Neither of you say a single word for a while, then he looks over at you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I assumed you wouldn’t wanna see me.” he finally declares, making you scoff and shrug.

“I actually don’t mind,” you say, looking over at him. He’s now looking ahead, a small pinched smile over his lips. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before looking back at you.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Fair enough, you are one.” you immediately sigh, looking away. His gaze is too heavy. “I loved you.” the knot inside your throat tightens only after you pronounce the words, thankfully.

He swallows hard, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not the cold air’s doing. He stares deeply at you, watching you doing your best not to look at him.

“I know.”

The atmosphere hangs heavily as the awkwardness takes over. The silence lingers, punctuated only by the sounds of the night around you.

He pushes himself away from the wall, taking a step closer and turning to look at you, forcing the both of you to truly establish eye contact for the first time tonight.

"I fucked up, I know," he admits, his voice low and filled with remorse. "But I never meant to hurt you." he shakes his head. “Ever.”

You blink, your gaze tearing from his. "You did anyway," you reply, your tone tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sadness. The memories of the pain he caused are still fresh, wounds not fully healed.

He runs a hand over his stubble, a nervous habit you remember all too well. "I know I can't change anything that I did, but I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Your eyes meet his own again, searching for sincerity. "It doesn't fix everything," you say, your guard still up.

He nods understandingly. "I just needed to tell you, and to let you know I haven't stopped thinking about you."

The vulnerability in his gaze begins to chip away at your defenses. Despite the hurt, a part of you softens. "Santi–”

He cuts you off– "I've been thinking, and you know I don’t do it often” he jokes, scoffing. “And I realized how much I lost when I let you go."

A wave of internal conflict washes over you. Your past relationship is a heavy burden you’re carrying, and you’re not sure you should grant him your forgiveness, yet there's a glimmer of something in his eyes that translates his genuine desire for redemption, and there’s some part of you that craves everything you had with him.

“Please,” he starts, his gaze chasing yours as he softly holds onto your wrist. “Please give me a second chance”

His plea hangs in the air, and you can feel the sincerity in his touch. The warmth of his hand on your wrist is a rough contrast to the chill in the night air. You sigh, and look away, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of a different future. The silence stretches painfully, and you can hear the faint sounds of the night around you – a distant car passing by, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

A shiver shakes through you, the brown of his eyes seeming deeper than usual, softer as he silently begs for you to say something.

“Second and last chance” you finally declare, refusing to give up on everything you’ve done to try to get over him, yet indulging in everything you’ve ever wanted since you’ve been apart.

He nods silently, his hand leaving your wrist to settle at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Okay. Alright. I won’t need another one” he promises confidently, the frown over his face eventually softening. You smile as his thumb gently rubs over your now cold skin.

“Alright, but you gotta kiss me for it to take effect” you tease as you break the tense atmosphere, readjusting your position onto your feet and placing your hands at either side of his neck. His skin is warm, and you feel his muscles contract under your hands when he laughs.

“Good thing I’ve been wanting to do it all night long” he smirks before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours, smiling as you sigh into the kiss. This is it; you feel complete again.

He tastes of booze, and his light stubble slightly stinging when he moves are surprisingly pleasant. Your hand shifts to rest at the back of his neck, feeling his scar here, his own hands pulling you closer at the waist where he squeezes lightly when you run your other hand through his short hair.

You pull away only once it becomes necessary, the lack of oxygen making you all giddy though you’re not sure it’s just it. Santi is still holding you close as he presses his warm lips over your forehead, laughing when a shiver runs through your spine and makes you jolt.

“Alright” he declares as he strips himself of his shirt, pulling it over your shoulders.

“You already pulled this trick on our first date” you scoff, looking over at him. A sly smirk grows over his face as you adjust the jacket over your shoulders.

“...And it worked, didn’t it?”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious @dowbastan

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #sorry for the tags it's just to reach more people^^#oscar isaac

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abiiors · 2 months

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queen of hearts // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 6: queen of hearts

a/n: this is. Not Good. the burnout is hitting me now lol this is okayish now after the major edit wc: breakups i think but that's it cw: 4.1 k

“i can be your date to the awards.”

matty’s words freeze you in your tracks and you whip your head to him, almost dropping your coffee in the process. he’s half-leaning half-sitting on the table, flicking through a trashy tabloid of all things that you wish would set on fire right about now. but it doesn’t. and so matty continues to flick through it without even looking up at you while he’s just dropped this bomb on you.

you know what’s caught his fancy… you know there’s going to be some iteration of “the queen of hearts suffers heartbreak” in there. (because let’s face it, the tabloids are never creative enough to think of other headlines and they’ve used this one almost every time you’ve had a public break up before)

you suppose you should count your lucky stars they didn’t find out right away, that you at least got three months to yourself before the news first broke.

“what makes you think i need a date?”

he thumbs over to another page, still looking just as insufferably cool as ever. “your ex is going. ooohh, ouch! he’s going with someone you’re up against in almost every category, babe.”

“i don’t care,” you turn your nose up at him, “and don’t call me babe.”

matty puts the magazine down and finally looks at you.

from the corner of your eye you catch the headline—the queen of heartbreak—along with a photo of you and jack, a dramatic slash going between the two of you. you remember that night, you remember going to a charity gala with him and sneaking out to make out in one of the forgotten hallways. you remember feeling invisible in the best of ways for the first time in your life.

a pang goes through your chest and you bring your attention back to matty.

“in fact, i might not even go.”

“really?” he raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in front of him. your eyes betray you by flicking to his biceps that strain against the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing, but you quickly look back at him and blink the thoughts away.

you sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “no, that’s– yeah, no. skipping's not an option. my publicist would kill me. plus, they already have a dress for me and it’s too gorgeous to be wasted like this.”

“and you think going solo is a good idea,” his eyes flick to the tabloid and you can already see the headlines that would be written about you. all the staged and well-timed photos of you sneaking even a single glance at jack and his date, all the speculation of jealousy and cheating. just think about it makes your temples ache.

“no… i guess not.”

matty grins, “so take me as your date then.”

you take a moment to assess him. he’s certainly hot, (objectively speaking, of course) and going with him would create a…splash to say the least. and if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda dig the anti hero persona he’s got going at the moment.

on the other hand, your publicist might blow a blood vessel trying to clean up your image.

you look at the tabloid again, at the “queen of heartbreak” printed in big bold ugly letters all across the front page. it’s fucking tiring being so synonymous with love songs. it’s tiring singing about romance and yearning and love while your happily ever after comes crumbling all around you.

“okay,” you say and matty smiles wide. you smile back.

and for the first time in three months, it’s a real genuine smile.

you see him around the studio a few more times after that—sometimes with his band, sometimes alone. mostly he’s running around, busy with his own thing and not really playing much attention to anyone around him. you on the other hand, sit in the twin of his studio space.

on most days your head feels empty, not a single song lyric or even a catchy riff in there. not a single thing scribbled in your notebook for months. you know what’s expected of you—another romance pop album to sweep everyone off their feet. your management has been very clear about that—it’s what gets the numbers and it’s what they want from you.

it doesn’t matter what you want. it’s never mattered.

you try everything—walking around the property with your notebook in your hands, hoping to find some inspiration. you listen to your old songs, cringing at how empty they sound, how soulless and exactly like the one before. happy to the point of feeling cognitive dissonance.

as a last resort, you even look up photos of you and jack, just to see if it would spark…anything.

all it does is annoy you more. he’s already got a new girlfriend, the same girl who’s supposed to be his date. you imagine the buzz around their red carpet debut and then think back to your own—how much the tabloid had gushed over you, calling you the perfect couple. a couple that just “made sense”

the perfect king to their queen of hearts.

you close your eyes and lean your head back against the bark of a tree. it’s nice here at least, it’s calm. the place is so far away from the city, you could just disappear for a few months and just not do anything.

but peace has never come to you without a price.

not even five minutes later, a loud guitar riff splits the air followed by raucous laughter. (it’s surprising to you that you already recognise matty’s laugh) standing up, you dust off your jeans and follow the sounds. the guitar only gets louder the more you walk, until you see a group of people around a little barbecue.

matty’s holding his guitar like a classic douchebag rockstar, sunglasses dangling over his nose and arm muscles flexed and veins taut against his forearms as he strums the bright red guitar. it’s so much different from what their music usually sounds like. the notes aren’t very loud or angry but they’re certainly powerful. stronger than anything you’ve ever played before.

it makes you stop in your tracks and watch him.

you just stand there—captivated by the music, captivated by him. it only takes matty a couple more seconds to notice you, and you look away, flustered.

“enjoying the show?” he asks, a sly grin playing on his lips. warmth creeps up your cheeks.

“no, sorry. i was just round the corner and heard you. sorry didn’t mean to intrude—”

“relax,” he laughs and sets the guitar aside. you recognise the others behind him—his band, for one. you’ve seen the other three men with him in countless photos and award shows but the others are unfamiliar.

“that was… really good,” you laugh and tuck a strand of hair behind your ears. matty’s eyes follow the movement. “something new?”

“something old actually. very old. it’s called 28, from when we used to perform under drive like i do.”

that’s news to you so you just nod your head, unsure what to say. “it sounded really good. powerful.”

matty’s eyes flick over your face for a moment, taking you in with such intensity that you feel utterly shy for a moment, almost like a part of you is laid bare—there’s no creative makeup to conceal imperfections on your face, no team of stylists to dress you and style your hair. in front of matty, in just jeans and a t-shirt and your hair in a braid, you’re just…a person. as ordinary as it gets.

“didn’t think it would be your kind of music,” he says after a second and you look down, toeing the grass.

“i didn’t either…” the words are so soft, they’re barely audible. matty opens his mouth to say something but panic shoots through you like a spear. you know he’s going to ask you to join, and music is the last thing on your mind.

“i gotta go,” you mumble, already backing away. matty’s face shifts from a smile to a confused frown. he lifts his hand, almost wraps his fingers around your wrist but matty thinks better of it at the last moment and drops it.

you don’t stay long enough to hear what he says, you just run back to the studio and try to forget this ever happened.

the days leading up to the awards are a whirlwind of preparations—from dress fittings to speech preparation to meeting with stylists, it’s exhausting. at least it keeps your mind off, well, everything else. but mostly it keeps you too busy to interact with any more journalists or paps. the most they get are photos of you going to a couple dress fittings and back to your car.

none of it distracts you from matty though. even though you haven’t since him the weeks that you’ve been back in the city (he’s still back in the studio), you find yourself lingering on thoughts of him throughout the day. even though you haven’t talked to him since then, you find yourself wishing you’d exchanged phone numbers.

but most surprisingly, you don’t think about jack at all. not even once (unless his face just so happens to be on some magazine cover or the other). he simply exists in the periphery, mostly out of sight and out of mind.

your publicist, emma, does blow a blood vessel when you first tell her about bringing matty as your plus one. she’s older than most other people on your team, has been in this industry far longer than you have, so her disapproval stings a bit.

“matty? healy? are you sure about that?” she side-eyes you when you first break the news to her, taking you aback just a bit.

“why, what’s wrong with him?”

she chews on her bottom lip for a second and you hold your breath, waiting for her to flat-out say that this is a bad idea. “he’s not the most…popular right now.”

you roll your eyes. “well if that’s the only thing that’s wrong with him then i’d still like to take him.” and then as an afterthought, you add a “please”.

“fine,” she shrugs and that is the end of that. she asks no more questions, makes none of her personal feelings known. and while on some days you appreciate that degree of professionalism, on others you just need…a friend.

but emma goes back on her phone, already making a call to someone and you swallow all the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

your heart’s in your throat from the moment you step inside the limousine. it’s standard for you—get inside the car, stare outside from the heavily tinted windows until it’s time to compose yourself for the cameras. somehow, tonight feels different, and definitely not because you have more nominations than you’ve had ever before.

“where’s matty?” you ask emma who’s texting on her phone.

“oh, we’re picking him up from his hotel. ten more minutes.”

with trembling fingers you unlock your phone, getting the pin wrong twice before searching him up on instagram. without his number that’s the only way you have to contact him and you wonder if he’s even going to check his instagram dms. but you send out a quick prayer and type out a message anyway.

ready for tonight?

i guess i should say sorry in advance for all the dating rumours we’re about to fuel

then you cringe and stare out the window again, wondering if that was too forward of you to say. it has been weeks since you talked to him afterall. who knows if he’s even excited about this anymore or if he’s simply doing it as an obligation.

your phone buzzes with an incoming dm.

ready and waiting :)

and being linked to you doesn’t sound so bad

in spite of the rumours, that makes you smile, and the car takes a turn towards the driveway of a swanky hotel. almost reflexively, you fix your hair (they’re perfectly done) and smooth any folds in your dress (it fits you like a glove). it’s only the lack of a mirror that stops you from obsessively checking your makeup but you still take a quick glance at your phone’s screen and make sure everything’s in place.

it shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking. it’s just an award show, you’ve done this a hundred times in the past but then the car rolls to a stop and suddenly someone’s opening the door.

you smell him before you see him—expensive perfume and cigarettes, like it’s his signature scent. and then you see him.

matty’s in a sleek black tux, curls tamed for the night with some hair gel and even then some of them manage to escape, falling on his forehead and into his eyes. his eyes look darker somehow, more intense, and they widen when his gaze lands on you.

against your better judgment, you feel a sense of satisfaction when his gaze trails down to the low, low neckline of your dress and back up to your red-painted lips. then back to your eyes before matty clears his throat and gets inside the car. you take advantage of his distraction to steal another look at him. and yep, he’s just as hot as always.

if anything, the tux makes him almost irresistible.

“hi,” he smiles, right next to you now and you try not to lean into his warmth.

“hi” you smile back, uncharacteristically shy. “ready for tonight?”

“you already asked me that.”

colour blooms on your cheeks and you look away for a second, mortified that you have nothing else to say but a second later matty snickers making you roll your eyes at him.

“relax, sweetheart. we’ll be great.” his eyes slide up your face again, dipping to your mouth just for half a second, quick enough that you would have missed it if you blinked. “why are you nervous anyway. thought you’d be a pro by now.”

“‘s not that, i just– the vultures,” you surprise yourself with how intense you sound then, how angry. “sorry, the press. they’d probably leave no chance to find links between me and jack and i’m just… fed up. i’ve had enough now.”

“the vultures,” he says pointedly, “can suck my dick—”

“matty!”

“no i’m serious.”

you look at him properly then, at how earnest he looks. then matty places his hand right next to yours, palm up and open. “we’ll do it together.”

you can only manage a nod, and then you place your hand in his, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos.

as the car pulls up to the red carpet, everything suddenly feels charged as a livewire. the flashing lights, the screams of fans, and the swarm of photographers are all part of the routine. still, it never gets old.

still, you never fully get used to it.

matty’s first to step out, extending his hand out to you—the absolute portrait of a gentleman—and so you take it, stepping out of the limousine. the moment your feet touch the carpet, the cameras go wild.

matty’s hand around yours is warm, comforting. it astonishes you how familiar it feels despite holding his hand for the first time. and even though you can barely hear anything over the camera shutters and the shouts of “look over here”, you can make out him mouthing “i’ve got you.”

right as you walk up to the centre of it all and stop for photos, matty turns towards you and leans in. you freeze, trying hard to hold the camera-ready smile on your phone but his face is so close to yours, his hand so big around yours.

“by the way,” he says, his lips grazing your ear, “you look stunning tonight.”

the cameras erupt into more clicks, the shouts and cheers go wild. you know what moment they’ve just captured—matty, almost kissing the shell of your ear and you going the same shade of red as the carpet. your stomach swirls with butterflies even though the nerves are ever present. a pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

matty’s already facing the cameras once again, staring them down and giving them a gorgeous smile that has your heart skipping a beat.

before you have the chance to overthink it, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a perfect red lipstick mark behind. his jaw goes slack, his grip around your hand loosens. not even a second later, you feel the same hand around your waist, pulling you into him, surrounding you with his scent.

“oh we’re giving a show tonight huh?” he smirks.

you smirk back, feeling the adrenaline rush through you. “thought that’s what you wanted,” you reply, your voice a low whisper that only he can hear over the chaos of the red carpet.

matty's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to yours. “well then, let's make it a performance they'll never forget,” he says, his thumb lightly brushing against your waist.

before they have a chance to ask more questions, you move on—arm around matty’s waist, practically leaning into him as your head swims with the almost kiss. sure, he did it for the cameras but the dizziness you feel is real. the way your blood rushes is very fucking real

“ready, darling?” he asks just before you’re going to step in.

you bite your lip, actually excited this time. “ready as i’ll ever be.”

but the excitement drains away the moment you leave the cameras and step through the massive doors to the auditorium. this is the true test—the outside cameras would only catch a glimpse of your evening, the first look at your outfit and hair and a look into your excitement for the evening. but the inside cameras capture everything!

you remember the utter scandal from a few years ago when the cameras caught a musician rolling his eyes after his rival won a big award. you remember the memes on twitter for days after, the snide remarks from other industry peers, the hateful comments. you remember emma mentioning how his publicist had been fired two days after.

you remember the instagram live meltdown.

and now as you see jack in front of you, arms linked with his date, you wonder if it would be you next, if history would repeat itself.

“alright?” matty’s voice cuts through your spiral and you stop instantly, causing him to walk into you just a little. matty’s arms tighten around your waist, steadying both of you and he frowns.

“yeah,” you give him a tight smile. “jitters.”

“‘s that it?” matty looks skeptical, cocking an eyebrow at you, which somehow makes his whole face turn sharper. it’s the kind of sharpness that’s lethal… if you weren’t careful.

in an attempt to steer the conversation away from yourself, you shake your head. “how come you’re not nervous?”

“who says i’m not?”

a laugh spills out of you, sharp and unbelieving. you’ve never seen someone more confident, more self-assured in your life before. hell, you’ve seen their concert videos now and matty is fucking electric in all of them. he looks like he owns the place, owns the attention of everyone around him. he looks impenetrable—an utter fucking rockstar.

“well, you– you…”

“i…? what?” his eyes turn playful, his lips curve upward. “i look so dashing and sexy and in control all the time?”

“sure,” you drawl, fighting the smile that’s about to make its way onto your face. “that’s what i was goin—”

“hi, babe!”

your blood turns cold and a sour taste coats your tongue at the sound of his voice.

jack looks exactly like he did the last time—the same dark wavy hair, the same piercing blue eyes that captivated you all those years ago, the same full lips that… you cut that train of thought before it could lead to places you’d rather not. instead, you stare right at him and give him a tight-lipped smile.

“hi jack.” the babe doesn’t go unnoticed; neither by you, nor by matty, and he straightens, standing up to his full height. jack ignores him entirely.

“was wondering if you were coming.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the loaded sentence. you know exactly what he’s referring to—the fucking pathetic pap walk, the absolutely embarrassing amount of pda. it’s curious that he’s here alone now, smiling wide at you with unnervingly straight, white teeth. his date is nowhere to be seen.

“yeah, me too, actually,” you smile turns saccharine, “considering you don’t have any nominations this year.”

matty chokes back a laugh and jack’s face reddens a little. still, he manages to hold up pretty well.

“oh, feisty! aren’t you, babe? isn’t she?” the last part is addressed to matty who stiffens, pulling you closer. a part of you wants to give into the butterflies swarming in your stomach. a part of you wants to lean into him and feel protected.

you expect matty to come up with a witty response, something that would put jack in his place, but matty turns to you instead, looking down at you with… adoration, almost. it’s not like it’s real, you tell yourself, it’s only for your ex. only for show.

“is that the guy you were telling me about, darling? the boring one you dated before?”

now it’s your turn to choke back a laugh. you try not to dwell too much on the darling, or his low, almost seductive voice. you certainly don't dwell on how it makes your insides flutter and feel warm. instead, you focus back on jack and relish in the way his jaw tightens.

“i see,” he mutters, but matty clearly isn’t done yet.

“she can speak for herself, won’t you say john—”

“jack.” his voice is terse now, and as much as you’re enjoying this little interaction, you’d rather it get not picked up by cameras and even more tabloids. the headlines that would be splashed on them tomorrow are already predictable enough. so you tug on matty’s arm and smile up at him sweetly.

“shall we go find our seats, love?”

the iciness in his eyes fades at the one word, and you try not to let that do funny things to you. (even though it’s practically too late now, even though you can almost feel your heart doing somersaults in your ribcage). matty presses his hand to the small of your back, the skin of his palm so deliciously warm that it seeps through the fabric and you have to swallow back a groan.

god! he’s fucking attractive…

and fuck! you might just be in trouble.

jack stares daggers at you when you let matty steer you away, the stare so intense that it almost burns into the back of your head but the electricity from matty’s proximity is something else entirely…

“love?” he teases, the moment you’re out of earshot and you blush deeply.

“i said it for him, not for you!” but even you know the retort lacks conviction.

“whatever you say…” a shit-eating grin appears on his face, melting away all the sharpness from before. and suddenly matty’s just… a handsome boy. curly-haired and smiley and soft. his eyes crinkle in the way that makes you think how used to he is to smiling and laughing—as often as he wants, as freely too.

he’s beautiful like this, you think, different from the rest of them too. you don’t constantly feel on guard around him for one.

his finger lightly taps you on the forehead, catching you off guard. “what’s going on in there?”

what is going on is you waxing poetic about how hot he is but his ego does not need that particular ego boost. but try as you might, you can’t think of a sarcastic remark, nothing teasing or mocking. all you manage is a genuine smile.

“just that… it’s not so scary anymore.”

“yeah?”

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. “who knew bringing you as my fake date would be a good idea, huh?”

“fake date…” matty smirks, and lets his eyes roam over your face. it’s the type of stare that’s hard to look away from, the type of stare that holds you captive. matty lets out a shaky little breath and takes one small step closer. just one. “i don't know, seems pretty real to me.”

lemme know what you think <33

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#valentine75 #valentine's week #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #the 1975 fic

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myosotisa · 11 months

Note

scoops steve is a mood so can I request scoops steve??

you absolutely can, my friend!! here is some jealous!Reader with some Scoops Ahoy Steve

New and Different

ǁ summary: You visit your boyfriend at work for the first time and catch him talking with an old classmate. Your envy takes over.

ǁ tags: implied fem!reader, jealousy, happy ending, fluffy, content warning for scoops ahoy shorts because they are simply too much

ǁ word count: 1.8k

One of the problems with Steve working at Scoops Ahoy is that stupid little outfit he has to wear every day.

The two of you had only been dating a few weeks when you decided to visit him at work for the first time. You’d seen the outfit before, of course, but only in the privacy of your own home where it felt like all the thigh on display was completely for your own enjoyment. Seeing him wearing it in public leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you are reluctant to acknowledge is a burning pit of jealousy.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” his smile is absolutely radiant in the bright overheads of the shop the moment he sees you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of getting to see such a babe during my work day?”

“That depends,” no one is waiting to order so you walk right up to the counter, hands pressed to the vinyl as you lean in toward him, “how many free samples are you allowed to give out?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you as the corners of his eyes crinkle in joy. “For you? I’d sample every flavor.”

The sentiment makes your heart warm as it thumps in your chest. A bit shy, you ask, “Even though you hate people asking for a ton of samples?”

“What can I say?” His head tilts to the side, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

It’s your turn to laugh, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Okay, smooth operator, why don’t you–”

“God, will you two STOP.” Robin pushes her way out of the swinging doors to your left with a dramatic flourish, hands in the air as she gives you her most exasperated look yet. “We get it, you’re in puppy love, you’re making us all sick with your shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest as he leans a hip against the counter to tilt toward her. “You’re just jealous you’re sad and alone.”

“Wow, dingus, that really hurts,” she retorts in a total monotone, “how will I ever recover from being attacked like this?”

“Sorry Robin,” you offer to try and limit their bickering, an apologetic smile flashed her way. She seems to appreciate the gesture at the very least as she goes to grab what she came to the front for before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Steve is quick to offer you an apology on her behalf that you insist you don’t need and the two of you go back to awkwardly flirting while he puts together a two scoop bowl of ice cream for you. He has a break in 15 minutes or so, encouraging you to take a seat so he can join you when he is able to relinquish his post.

Having no plans this afternoon, you’re quick to agree, settling into a booth on the left hand wall with a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Unfortunately, you are not the only one vying for a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Honestly, you don’t even remember her name. Someone from high school that had never said two words to you but probably was an attendee at all of Steve’s parties in his big, empty house on the edge of town. He’d told you recently that people from high school hadn’t treated him very kindly since he started working at the mall – after his falling out with Tommy, his breakup with Nancy, and his failure to get into college, he had changed a lot. So you can see the apprehension he is trying to hide as she approaches the counter and he greets her.

He looks utterly delighted when she not only remembers him, but also seems happy to see him. Acting like old friends catching up and not just 2 people who were acquaintances catching up barely 2 months after graduating in the same class. He’s all bright smiles as he takes her order and they keep talking and you really, really want to be happy for him. You should be happy that he is finally interacting with someone who knew him at King Steve and isn’t being rude or dismissive of him now. That is what a girlfriend should want for her boyfriend.

But she is laughing too brightly and airly. Her hair is twisted around her finger and she looks way more popular – and therefore more attractive – than you. She’s watching him too closely, her gaze shifting down to his ass and thighs in his stupid little shorts when he turns around. And when he hands her the waffle cone she ordered, her fingers linger a little too long on his. Plus, you bet she doodled her phone number with a little heart next to it on her receipt when she slid it back to him. Bitch.

Okay, wait. Hold on there. The little green monster of envy that you try to hide deep in your gut very quickly took the reins of your thoughts for a few moments there. You trust Steve and you know he would never do anything to encourage someone flirting with him or do anything to betray you like that. He probably has no idea she was flirting/checking him out and he doesn’t even look twice when she struts out of the store and calls back to Robin that he’s taking his break.

Which doesn’t leave you nearly enough time to try to recover from your jealousy and the shame that accompanies it before he’s sliding into the booth across from you.

“Hey honey, is this seat taken?” He asks, like a loser, even though he is already sitting in it.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to fully reset yourself, you offer your best attempt at a flirty retort. “Actually, I was saving it for my boyfriend.”

And there’s that lovesick smile again, the apples of his cheeks dusting pink as he runs a hand through his hat-hair. “Well isn’t he a lucky guy?” You hum an agreement before returning your attention to your almost entirely uneaten ice cream that has been steadily melting in front of you since he handed it to you 15 minutes ago. “You’ve barely eaten a bite, did you end up not liking what you picked? Because I can go and grab something else–”

He’s halfway out of his seat again when you hold out a hand to stop him. “No, no, it’s good. Totally fine. I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” Falling back to sit, he takes your outstretched hand in his own and rubs his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “What was so distracting that you let award winning Scoops Ahoy brand ice cream melt?” He can barely say it with a serious face, and he makes sure to draw out the word distracting like he knows the answer. And he’s probably assuming you were distracted looking at him, which, in a way, you technically were. Just not in the way that he thinks.

“That girl who was just in here,” his eyebrows raise, pink lips forming a small ‘o’ in surprise, obviously having not anticipated this topic of conversation, “I don’t remember her name, but she went to school with us, right?”

“Yeah, Anna Jakobi. She said she was doing some shopping for some party on Saturday at Carla’s, asked if I wanted to go.”

It feels like your heart drops into your stomach. “Are you going to go?”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, obviously confused. “No? I work in the afternoon and then we are going to see a movie with Dustin before he leaves for camp. That’s still the plan, right?”

Although slightly relieved, you still don’t feel entirely settled. “That was the plan but if you’d rather go to this party at Carla’s then you can, I won’t stop you–”

“Hey.” You return to making eye contact with him, not realizing you’d been avoiding doing so for the last few minutes. He looks confused and concerned, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Did I do something wrong? It kinda feels like you’re mad at me.”

“No!” You try to assure him, way too quickly to sound normal, as you bring your other hand up to rub at your forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, you’re perfect, I promise.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

How are you going to get out of this one?

After taking a few moments to try to find an excuse, you settle on: “I just know you’ve been kinda bummed about losing some of the people you talked to in high school as friends so it sounds like a good opportunity to, I dunno… Reconnect with some of them.”

He chuckles again, a small smile returning. “I don’t really know if I would call a lot of those people my ‘friends’. But you’re right, I was pretty bummed.” A long exhale leaves his nose, his eyes falling to watch his thumb as it continues its gentle glide across your knuckles. “Still, I would much rather spend time with you and Dustin than go to some party.”

You want to believe it. You really do. But the jealousy had linked hands with your insecurity and muddled everything up. “You’d probably have a lot more fun with them,” and you follow it up with an awkward laugh. If only you could bring those words back into your mouth and swallow them so they were never heard from again.

“No way,” he shakes his head, honey shaded eyes returning to yours with a certainty that makes you feel all warm inside, “nothing’s more fun than spending time with my girl.”

The ice melts further, your posture visibly relaxing at the term of endearment as you layer your other hand on top of his. He looks relieved at the smile that returns to you before you see an idea visibly click behind his gaze. “Wait, were you jealous? About me talking to Anna?”

The way you quickly squeak out a “No” makes your case in no way convincing.

And where you’re expecting disgust or anger or maybe pity, you find none. If anything, he looks delighted at this discovery. “You were jealous. That’s why you sat here that whole time without eating any of your ice cream.”

Embarrassment piles on top of your shame, your mood plummeting. “Don’t be mean, Steve.”

He just shrugs, his delighted expression never falling. “I don’t know, honey. It’s kind of a turn on.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, sitting up straighter as you blink your widened eyes rapidly. “What?”

“You seeing me talking to a girl and getting all possessive over me? That’s hot, actually.”

Your heart is absolutely hammering in your chest as you mirror the smile on his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he confirms a little too enthusiastically, grabbing the attention of someone walking in before you both duck your heads and giggle when they look away. “You can get possessive over me all you want, babe. I’m yours and you’re mine. My girl.”

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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ughgoaway · 3 months

Text

don't you think of me?

plot; snapshots of your breakup, with one letter underlining it all.

word count; 6.9k-ish

content warnings; swearing, dramatic overreactions, distressing dreams, depression, blood, general sad vibes, drinking and no happy ending (oops <3)

a/n; guys... angst is SO HARD. idk how people write it sooooo well. this fic is inspired by the songs "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "I Almost Do" and the storyline is based completely on those songs! but there are a few other Taylor song references in the fic too. anyway, this kind of jumps around a lot, perspectives and timelines. so if it's completely incomprehensible, I am so sorry!! lemme know if it's so awful I need to have a re-write lol. I really hope the flashbacks are clear, and that this timeline makes any sense whatsoever <3

(p.s this is basically dedicated to 🍪 anon and bff anon, ty for riding so hard for this fic lol)

(this is non-canon)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The cold wind hurts Matty's face as he battles against it. Each gust feels like needles prickling his cheeks. But still, he pushes through, not really feeling much of anything these days anyway. The paper in his pocket scratches his hands as he burrows them in deeper, but he just grips it harder. The scratches made him feel more human anyway. They convinced his hazy head that maybe life was still happening around him.

The red post box in front of him is almost taunting. He stands frozen, gripping the letter he’s worked so hard on tightly. He has the passing thought of just letting it go, watching it blow away in the breeze, and never having to think about it again.

He never has to think about you again.

But he knows that's unrealistic. How can he never think of you again when you're all he thinks about? Every waking thought he has is about you. He still thinks about how your breathing changed when you slept next to him. The way your lips curved into the smirk he loved whenever you teased him. The flush that covered your cheeks when he did it back.

Every morning, he still gets out 2 mugs. He still grabs your favourite wine at the shops and doesn't say yes to plans without thinking if he should check with you first. The last time he saw you was still burned into the back of his mind, and he was not sure it could ever leave.

And to be honest, he doesn't know if he wants it to. If healing means forgetting you, forgetting everything you built, then maybe it is better to live in the pain. Each time he begins to heal, he picks up the scab over and over again. The sting reminded him of you, so he picked and picked. Blood poured from him relentlessly, but that was all he could do. Bleeding for you was all he had of you anymore.

He shoved the letter in and walked away briskly. He fought every bone in his body telling him to go back. To smash the post box and filter through every letter until he found his. He imagined a world in which he hadn't sent it, where instead he turned around and marched back to his house.

Or maybe there's a world where he marched to your house instead. Maybe he finally got over himself and told you everything in person. He begged and pleaded for you to forgive him, to look him in the eyes and tell him you've been hurting just as much as him.

Matty isn't sure that world exists, though.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

3 days later, when it arrives, you stare at it endlessly. You move it from place to place in your apartment and try to visualise opening it there. But soon enough, that just becomes you avoiding that room like the plague, and you start to treat parts of your flat like they are infested with a deadly virus. But they're not, really. They're just filled with a small envelope with your name on it and a return address you know all too well.

You decide you aren't going to read it 2 days later. You hold it over a candle and watch the amber flames lick the bottom of the envelope. But before you can set it ablaze, some instinct takes over, and suddenly, it's the most important object you've ever owned. You pull it from the flames and put it out with your fingers, not caring if the fire sizzles your skin. You cry and beg for it to be okay, tears streaming from your cheeks as you frantically pull it open, “No no no. fuck, please.”

But the letter inside was unscathed, just the corner of the envelope was covered in a thin layer of ash. As soon as you see that handwriting, though, you feel the unspeakable urge to burn it again, to set it on fire and watch it burn.

You don’t.

You lay it on the table and go to bed. You decide tomorrow will be the day you do something with it, even though you promised yourself that every day since you got it. But you're sure tomorrow will really be the day. It has to be.

You return to the warm solace of the bed you've grown to know too well over the past few weeks, and the duvet welcomes you in like an old friend.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

It's a few days after he sent the letter and the day after you received it when he sees you for the first time, and he can't quite believe it. There you were, standing in the coffee shop you always went to together.

He wondered if the baristas had noticed you both started to come in without the other. Maybe they started gossiping about it, “Did those customers break up? I never see them together any more” and he could almost see someone else saying “I hope not. They were cute.”

Even though he knew no one would ever actually say that, and that the baristas hadn't noticed anything.

Some force that he couldn't explain pulled him towards you, and before he knew it, he was reaching for your arm. “Hi” he breathed out heavily, staring at you like he wasn't sure you were real. He wasn't convinced that you were anything but a figment of his imagination. Has his delusions about you already gotten to the point where he's having visions? He thought it would take a few more months for that.

“Matty?” You say gently, tracing your eyes over the man in front of you. Hearing your soft voice after months without you felt like heaven on earth for Matty, relaxation washing over him just at the soft dulcet tones of you.

Matty smiled softly at you, and you immediately returned it. He can see the cogs turning in your head on how to greet him. Was a hug too much? Is a wave too little? Is a handshake too formal? Overthinking was one thing you were so good. Matty was sure you could win an award for it. So he decided to take the decision into his own hands and wrapped out up in a hug, burrowing his face in your hair and smelling that familiar floral aura he'd fallen in love with.

Your whole body tensed when he first touched you. The once familiar feeling now was slightly cold and awkward. But Matty felt you relax and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face the the feeling of your head in his neck, the place you always used to lay. He swore he could feel you breathe him in, but soon convinced himself it was wishful thinking.

Reluctantly, you pull away, looking up at Matty with glassy eyes. The barista next to you clears his throat, bringing you both back to earth and out of whatever haze you were in. “your tea is ready” he says awkwardly, eyeing you and Matty with a sly smile on his lips.

“Right! Sorry, yes. Thank you” You grab your cup and turn back to Matty nervously. He can see the anxiety radiating off you, just like it always had. He never thought it would be directed at him, but he tries not to overthink it too much.

“Do you-” You clear your throat, shaking your head as you try to process that you're seeing him again. Seeing your Matty. “Do you want to sit with me? Catch up?”

Matty can see your hands shaking around your cup and the nervousness swimming in your eyes. “Of course,” he says easily. He could never deny an opportunity to spend time with you. Especially not when he hadn't seen you in so long. And certainly not when you still take up his every waking thought.

The conversation flows like you had never left, easily chatting and catching up like you always had. You tell Matty about the cat you adopted and how she loves to sit on top of the fridge to scare you. He tells you about his mum and her latest drama. Her kitchen cupboards were the wrong colour of grey, and it was the topic of conversation for much longer than he thought possible.

The first bout of silence comes when you ask about Annie, and Matty can tell it took every ounce of strength to force the words out of your mouth. You felt like someone had taken one of your vital organs when you left her, and you can still see her face in your mind whenever you close your eyes.

“she's good. Misses you, though. Especially because she doesn't see you at school anymore since you got a new job” he says with a solemn smile. Matty tries to hold eye contact, but he gives up a few seconds into it, instead staring at his coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Thankfully, soon enough, the once stilted silence becomes easy chatter and laughter all over again, Matty welcomed the warm conversation with open arms, missing your presence more than he ever thought possible.

But Matty's mouth soon got ahead of him, “so when was the last time I saw you?” he asked thoughtlessly. His brain was on autopilot, and the words poured out of him before he could stop it. The very topic you'd both been dancing around was now laid out in front of you, and it couldn't be ignored.

Matty saw something in your demeanour change, your once soft smile morphing into a faux-happy grimace, “Don't you remember? You screaming at me in the kitchen? And then storming out after saying what you did? Maybe you remember smashing a plate on the floor?” Matty pauses at your words, not quite believing you're deciding to re-hash all of this in the middle of a coffee shop, especially with a massive and slightly creepy grin on your face, but he answers anyway.

“Of course, I remember. And there's not enough words to say how sorry I am but-” he stutters as he tries to explain himself more, but you cut him off, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you remember? When you left me? Abandoned me? Left me sobbing and alone? What about the 30 phone calls you ignored?” You kept talking, and Matty couldn't get a word in, your voice increasing in volume with each desperate question.

“Look I’m so sorry-” Matty desperately looked around him to see if people were staring at your raised voice, but the cafe was empty. The once bustling coffee shop is now like a ghost town, with no evidence of another human ever being in there.

He flicks his head back to yours, only to be in his kitchen, forced back to that night. He stares at you in your pyjamas, tears streaming down your face. He flicks his eyes down to see him dressed in the same liquor-stained clothes, and he can taste the red wine on his tongue.

“Why” you whispered over and over again, gradually getting louder, eventually shouting at Matty as he stood there motionless.

Matty wakes up in a cold sweat, panting wildly as his brain fights to figure out what the fuck is happening. He scrambles to his phone and realises; it's still the same day. It was just another fucking dream. He knows nightmare would be the better word, but he can't bring himself to describe anything with you in it as a nightmare.

With a heavy sigh, he flops back to his pillow, gripping his phone desperately and trying to fight the urge to call you. It almost doesn't work, and he clicks on your contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. He sees the unanswered calls and the pleading messages. He can feel the desperation through the screen.

He thinks your new boyfriend must've blocked his number because that's easier than thinking that you just hate him. Each time he reaches out, there’s no reply, and he feels a part of himself die.

He hadn't tried for a few months now, but he still had that urge to type out his every thought, to send it and call you until you answered. But he doesn't.

It doesn't occur to Matty that the real reason that the reason you don't answer isn't because of a new boyfriend or because you hate him. Instead, it’s because you know you can't deal with another goodbye. You can't risk all this happening again. You were already practically ripped open. You can't risk tearing the very stitches you worked so hard to sew closed.

But matty doesn't know that, so with a huff, he clicks off you and onto George, and this time, he lets the phone ring.

“Huh? what-” he hears the groggy voice over the phone mutter, and it's then he realises maybe ringing George at 3 am because he had a nightmare wasn't the best decision. But it was too late now, and he could practically see George's expectant face from the other side of the phone.

“Hi. it um- it happened again” Matty said with a huff, falling back into the pillows and staring at the moonlight dancing across his ceiling. He heard George's heavy sigh and the distinct sound of ruffling sheets, George had sat up instinctively, knowing something was up.

“What was it this time? Did everyone in the crowd turn into her again” George says softly, rubbing at his tired eyes and fighting a yawn.

“No, it started off really nice this time. I saw her again at that cafe we always went to, you know the one near the studio? We were just chatting and catching up. But then she wouldn't stop talking about that night, telling me what happened all over again. And then I blinked, and I was back. I was in that kitchen again, just staring at her.” Matty follows the moonbeams with his eyes, lingering on the two beams crossing over, only for their paths to separate once again.

It reminded him of you and him.

“I think you need to get some lavender oil or some shit. You need to sleep. And these nightmares aren't helping” George says firmly, Matty would usually fight him tooth and nail at the suggestion.

He claimed it was because that stuff had never worked for him, but George knew it was because he saw it as still having a part of you in his life. Even if you were there in the form of his demons, at least they all looked like you.

But to his surprise, Matty immediately crumbled, “Yeah, you're right. Will you come to Boots with me after the studio tomorrow?” George agreed quickly before Matty could change his mind.

But he didn't try to, Matty simply said, “Thanks. Okay, I'll let you sleep now… Bye.” And before George could tell him it was okay, and he’d stay chatting as long as Matty needed, he was gone.

Tears leaked from Matty’s eyes, wetting the same pillow where you used to lay your head. This loop of healing felt endless, and Matty wasn't sure if fixing this was possible when he knew you were still out there without him. Forever wouldn't have even been enough with you, but now he has nothing. What is he meant to do with no you?

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

As Matty lay awake in Manchester, you were in the same position in London. The same lonely bed, but different cities. Unlike him, you haven't managed to sleep yet. Instead, you can't stop your brain from imagining what is in that letter. Your mind falls back to that night, and you replay the events over and over again. Every word Matty said was etched in your mind, so it played easily, the same script ringing in your ears all these months later.

//////////////////////

Matty shut the door delicately. Getting home at 2 am. was already bad enough. He didn't want to wake you or Annie in the process. But when he saw the light pouring out of the kitchen and heard the distinct hissing of the kettle, he knew you were awake. And he knew you were waiting for him.

He walked into the kitchen silently, leaning on the counter and watching you potter around, he remember when he used to sit here for hours and dream of you in his house. Now he's not even sure the last time you said I love you to each other. You continue to ignore Matty, but you getting a second mug out of the cupboard tells him all he needs to know. This is going to be a long night.

“At the studio late again?” You ask, passing Matty his mug and leaning across from him. Your eyes trace up his figure, and you can't help but think you don't recognise the man in front of you. His clothes hung off of him, and heavy bags sat under his empty eyes. His hair was standing on end, once perfectly manicured curls now frazzled beyond repair.

“Yeah, George wanted to fix this harmony. Sorry I'm back so late” he knew lying to you was wrong. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to explain where he actually was, drinking alone in a bar rather than at home with his family.

“Oh. okay.” you pause and wait for Matty to correct himself, giving him a chance to be fucking honest for once. But he doesn't, so you push again.

“That's weird though, because I asked Charli where George was 2 hours ago, and she sent a photo of them together. In bed.”

Matty's eyes widened. He knew he'd just been caught, but he wasn't ready to give up the lie yet. He just needed a few more weeks away, and then he would come back. Then everything would be made right again. So his tipsy mind comes up with a new lie and pleads with whatever God there might be that would believe him, “Oh did I say George? I meant Hann, you know how I get when it's late”

“Matty. You stink of booze. Do you think im an idiot?” You sigh, placing your tea down and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger bubbling within you was threatening to spill over. You felt as if every word from Matty was a stab, yet he kept just pushing the knife deeper.

“So I had a drink at the studio! Sue me, Jesus Christ” Matty sneers at you as he talks, slamming his cup onto the counter, ignoring the burning on his hand from the tea falling over the rim.

“Liar” you click your tongue at Matty and cast your eyes to the floor. Staring into his eyes as he lied to you was agony, and you're not sure how much more pain you can take.

“I'm not lying. I swear I just-” he tries to argue, but you refuse to let him keep going.

“I know you're lying. You're always fucking lying! You weren't at the studio.” you sighed heavily flicking your eyes up to Matty briefly, but the tension was too much, it hurt to look at him.

“Baby, cmon, calm down. It’s okay, yeah? I’m here now,” Matty moved towards you, grabbing your cheek in his hand and moving in to kiss you, prepared to make this all melt away just like he always did. You try to push him away, but Matty stands strong. He had to fix this. He needed to kiss and make up. It was all he knew how to do.

“Would you just fucking listen” you shout, pushing Matty back across from you, “I don't even know who you are anymore! These past few weeks have made you into a man I don't even fucking recognise.” You look up at him with crazed eyes and scoff at the sight of the man in front of you.

You were done with it all. The lying, the running away, the sleuthing around. Done. You were having this conversation, and you were having it now.

“No please don't say that. You know me. I don't know who I am without you knowing me,” Matty begged, sobering up quickly at your words.

He needs to bring this back, claw what little life you had left in you to the surface. Everything that left Matty’s life has had claw marks in it, and he would be damned if he'd let you go without the same scars.

“Don't you understand that's the fucking issue, Matty? You don't know who you are anymore, I don't know who you are anymore. You need to be a person without me.” your words struck Matty in the chest like a bullet.

Were you seriously suggesting what he thinks you are? Do you actually want to break up with him?

Matty baulks at your words. Every feeling he’d had over the past few months was catching up to him, crashing into each other in his brain as they fought to be let out. Anger won because, of course, it won. It seems to always win.

He decides that if you want to break up, then he'll do it himself. He can't let you beat him to it. He knows it's childish, but he doesn't fucking care. He needs to win this. “Please, I've been a person without you for 30 fucking years. I’m a fucking dad! I don't need you to tell me who I am.”

“Annie needs both her parents, Matty. We need you back, please.” The mention of Annie makes outrage bubble within him like it had never done before. He can't believe you'd practically threatened to break up with him one minute and then beg for him back for the sake of his daughter the next. Because that is what she is, she's his daughter.

“You don't know what it's like to be a parent y/n,” Matty mumbles under his breath, but he might as well have screamed it at you because that's how loudly it rang in your ears. He knew he'd fucked up as soon as he said it, but there was no going back now, and he could see that in your eyes.

“I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Are you fucking kidding Matty? What the hell have I been doing here for the past year? Just fucking around? I can't believe you could say that to me.” You hear your voice wavering as you force each word out.

“Annie is just as much my daughter as she is yours” you whisper desperately. The regret of mentioning Annie was building in your chest, and it felt like a rock impeding your lungs, each breath fighting against the weight. but it was too late to take anything back now. Both you and Matty knew it.

Matty scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes as he fiddles with his fingers. He tries desperately to cool his raging mind, but he can't. He figures if he is already in this deep, why not stoop a little lower?

“Just as much your daughter? Please. You weren't here for fucking any of it. Where were you here when she was born? How about when she was sick for the first time and wouldn't let me put her down without screaming bloody murder? Or- or how about when she broke her arm and she cried when she couldn't have a pink cast? Or maybe for any fucking time apart from the last 12 months. I know you liked playing happy families y/n, but be fucking real for 5 seconds. You were her teacher, maybe a fun friend, but nothing more. And if you think you were, you're more delusional than I thought.”

His chest heaved as he finished, not taking a single breath during his rambling speech, he could see your wet eyes and he felt his heart aching but he just couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you stayed, even if you never give up on us, on this. You could never be her mother.”

Both of you pause, the silence thick and heavy around you. How long could you stand like this and pretend he didn’t say that? Maybe if you just stayed there and listened to your ragged breathing, something would change.

But nothing did.

“Fuck you. You told me I was practically her mother a month ago. You said to me I was it for you, that your family was complete. I can't believe-” words poured out of you, streaming helplessly as you paced the kitchen.

Matty tried to cut in, desperate to get a word in edgeways. The need to defend himself was all-consuming. He needed to know that you understood he said it in the heat of the moment. Words fall out of his mouth without thinking. He can’t help it.

“y/n, love-”

“I’m not her mother? Tell that to the time I took her dress shopping for your mum's wedding. Or when I took her to A&E with suspected appendicitis. and-”

“y/n. Stop, just listen to me, please.” Matty begs, he almost inches closer to you, but some ineffable force keeps him where he is, watching you pace helplessly.

“Listen to you? Oh, I've done plenty of fucking listening Matthew. All I do is listen to you! But you never fucking hear me-”

“Can you just shut up for 5 fucking seconds” Matty shouted, grabbing a plate from beside him, throwing it against the concrete floor, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. He just needed you to look at him, to tell him you could fix this, but you wouldn't stop talking.

A gasp from you pulls him back to earth, and he feels his heart break into as many pieces as the plate below his feet. Your wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks glare back at him, and Matty has nothing to say. He has no fucking idea what just came over him.

Matty gingerly takes a step towards you, trying to avoid the ceramic splayed over the floor. His fingers shake as he reaches his hand out to your cheek, wanting to thumb away the tears falling.

But just as he does, he sees you flinch. It wasn't even a full movement, practically a micro-expression. But you fucking flinched. And you both knew it. The veil of silence over you is thick as you both stand there motionless with no idea what you could say to fix this. To make the last 10 minutes disappear.

Matty’s touch used to calm you. It was the only reassurance you needed. But now the mere thought of it filled you with some twisted sense of fear. The woman he had planned the rest of his life with was scared of him. And it was all his fucking fault. How had this all become his worst nightmare? How had the very thing he sacrificed so much to build crumbled and destroyed itself so deeply?

“Matty wait- I’m sorry, I was just still on edge. It's okay, im okay. See?” With a shaking hand, you grip his, bringing it to your face despite his protests. You can feel him trying to pull his arm away, but you fight him at every tug. Forcibly placing his hand on your wet cheek.

As soon as your hand drops from his, Matty wrenches away from you. The feeling of your cheek against his palm felt as if his skin was burning. The pain touched his every nerve.

The air is charged with pure fear as you stare at the other, both of your chests heaving and your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without thinking it through, Matty storms off, grabbing his keys as he pushes through the house. You chase after him, ignoring the blades of ceramic impaling your sock-covered feet, “No don't leave, Matty, please. Stay, stay here.” You reach to grab his arm, but Matty snatches it away before you can even feel his skin against yours.

“I’m leaving. I’m staying at George tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come pick Annie up from school. You will call in and take a sick day. Start packing your shit. I’m done. You're out of my house by tomorrow.” Matty demands, and with that, he leaves. Slamming the door behind him.

Bloody footprints lay in a trail behind you, and your socks start slowly becoming sodden from your weeping wounds. But still, you stood there, unmoving. Shock coursing through your veins.

It was all over. Just like that.

////////////////////

The letter was taunting you from the other room, the blacked corner flashed into your mind whenever your eyes finally fluttered close. The image of you burning the letter played behind your eyelids like a movie, and you almost wish you really had done it.

But you didnt, so it still sat on your living room table, torturing you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep, tears dampen the pillow below your head, but you ignore the thumping in your head and finally let sleep pull you under.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

You know you're dreaming when you're back in that kitchen. But you can't stop it from happening. The hazy filter that covers your surroundings is the only thing assuring you this isn't real, that this isn't all happening again.

Matty stands in front of you just as he had that night, but he looks different. His once frizzy curls sat in perfectly ringlets around his face, the streaks of grey dancing through them more prominent. His unshaven face was now neatly trimmed, and you admired the salt and pepper hairs within it. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes, glittering on his waterline.

“So you'll forgive me? We can move on?” he says desperately, smiling and moving towards you with tears falling down his cheeks.

You try to speak, but your mouth doesn't move, your lips stay pressed together against your brain's protests. Not even grunts escape you. Silently, you stare at Matty, completely motionless.

“y/n? You forgive me. I can make this right again, can't I?” Matty begs desperately. He grabs your hand but recoils at the cold feeling on his skin, your fingers cold as ice in his grip.

You fight to speak again, to tell him yes. To tell him you forgive him, that you need to try again. But still, nothing leaves your lips.

Matty scoffs at you, ripping himself away from you, “I can't believe you're ignoring me. I thought you'd be more mature than this. Call me when you can actually have an adult fucking conversation.”

He storms off, but all you can do is watch him helplessly. Every nerve in your body is screaming to move, to chase after him. And you almost do, but some inexplicable force is keeping you there, motionless in the same place where your life ended all those months ago.

So you watch him leave again, the haze surrounding you soon becoming darkness.

You know it's a dream, and you keep on telling yourself that. But when you wake with wet cheeks and a heaving chest, it feels pretty fucking real.

You swear you can feel him next to you, awake and staring at the same ceiling. But when you turn to see him, the piled-up duvet is all that's there, along with a cold bed beside you.

It's then you decide to finally give in to that voice in your head, the one screaming at you to just read the letter, to get it over and done with. The one begging you to throw it away and never look back is nearly silenced, and it soon becomes nothing but a whisper in the back of your mind.

The letter stays exactly where you left it, and whilst you know it couldn't have moved, part of you wishes it had. With shaking hands, you grab the pile of pages, and you can feel your heart racing the very same way it used to when you saw him.

The city lights shine onto you as you finally open the pages, looking at the handwriting you knew all too well. The same handwriting that used to give you butterflies, that used to detail how much it loved you, filling pages with adoration.

Now you're not so sure what it entails. But you read anyway, ignoring every screaming signal telling you to stop.

///////////

Hi darling,

I know I don't have the right to call you that anymore, but I can't bring myself to call you anything else. It's been a few months since we've spoken, and I've felt every minute of it. I've filled notebooks writing about you, writing to you. I must have practised this letter a dozen times, and I know this still won't be right.

So, instead of trying to write the perfect letter, I've ripped out some pages from my journal. My therapist told me to write like I was speaking to you, so that's what I did. I’m sure she would be pissed that im sending this at all, but I need to do this for us. To remember what we once were.

Anyway, I hope it makes you understand what this time without you has been like for me. You can ignore this letter completely and I wouldn't blame you. I won't hold it over you if you burn it and never look back. But if you do read it, I just need you to know im sorry. For everything.

(3 weeks without you)

To say the past couple of weeks have been hell for me is beyond an understatement. There is this festering part of me that thinks I will love you forever, and the knowledge that we will never be like we once were kills me, but it has to kill me. Because if I felt anything other than agony, I would come crawling back to you, and you don't deserve that. And I know that. But fucking hell, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You know me, I don't know what it's like to have surface-level emotions. I either feel it all, or I feel nothing. and with you? I fucking felt it all. I felt every touch, every smile, every fight, every screaming match ending in tears. I fucking felt it. and for some reason- I'm still thankful for it. because at least I felt you.

I wonder if you're at the point where you miss me when you hear my name. And I can't help but think about you hearing my songs, do you change the station? Even if they're about you? But if I’m honest, they're all about you. Every one of them. Even before I knew you, they were about you.

(a month and a half)

I wish you could forgive me. I think if I knew you didn't hate me, I could move on. Or maybe it would do the opposite. I don't know. All I do know is, I miss you.

(2 months)

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't handle it. I go driving and find the places we used to go, I sit there, and I can still hear your laugh. I can feel that all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you. but then someone speaks, or a car horn goes off, and suddenly, it's cold again. I mourn you like you're someone I've lost forever, and in a way, I have.

You know I still feel you every day, everywhere. Because you might have left, but you never really did. I still find your socks down beside the bed, and your hair ties around the house. I accidentally used your shampoo in the shower this week. You know that ridiculous Jasmine one that you pay too much for?

It was like having you around again, I never thought the small of some shitty shampoo would be the thing that brought it all back to me, brought you back to me. Yet it was. But still, you were gone.

So apparently, I decided to fall into the breakup trope of crying in the shower. For 45 minutes, which made me feel slightly pathetic. And it didn't help when George knocked on the door and washed my hair again. with my shampoo. But I still find myself smelling jasmine even when it's nowhere near.

You haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

(3 months)

It's 3 a.m., and I can't stop picturing your face. Just knowing you're still out there makes it so much fucking harder. I don't know how to cope knowing you're there and not here, with me. Even months later there's some sick part of me that hopes leaving me was the hardest thing you've had to do. but I hope loving me wasn't.

I know that's selfish, and that this is all my fault anyway. so I want you to move on, even if it kills me. it's hell thinking that the one person you could never forget is fighting to forget you.

But I hope you find the love of your life. I hope they make your tea just how you like it, and buy you those crazy expensive candles you love. I hope they will follow you to the ends of the earth, just like I would. even now.

(3 and a half months)

I want to say you don't know how it feels to miss you, you don't know how hard it is. but I have to keep hoping you miss me just as much. because if you didn't, if you just moved on without a second thought; I couldn't cope. the fact that we will always just be an almost will live with me until the day I die. I don't want you to be an almost. I want you to be an always. but it's over, and I know that. or at least I'm very good at pretending I know that.

(4 months)

Recently, I've been thinking about “what ifs?” Despite my therapist telling me I shouldn't. But you know what it is like after breakups. It's this all-consuming thing, and you can't help but imagine if things were different.

I think in another universe, we worked out. I got over my massive ego, and you worked through your past, and it fixed itself. We got married, had another kid, and got that cat you always wanted. We'd go to Annie's graduation together. Her wedding together. you'd cry as I walked her down the aisle, I'd smile and kiss away your tears. and I know that's not this universe. but fucking hell why can't it be?

(4 and a half months)

My mum misses you. She asked how you were doing today and if I had reached out yet. I got angry at her and stormed out. If only she knew how many times I’d dialled your number and then turned off my phone. Or how many unanswered texts I've sent.

Annie misses you too, by the way. She's finally stopped asking when you're coming back.

I wish she still asked.

(today)

I don't expect you to read all of this, and if you've just skipped to the end, I don't blame you.

but I'm sending this letter because I think I'm finally at a place where when I think of you, I don't take it as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together. instead, I think of it as a past life, as proof that we were an almost.

Next time I see you, I hope it doesn't hurt as much as the last time.

Goodbye, my love,

Matty x

///////////

The distinct sound of dripping tears hitting paper was the only noise in the room. You watched helplessly as the ink distorted under the little pools of wetness. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you can't help but fucking hate him for sending this.

How could he do this to you? All you've been doing for months is healing, but he keeps ripping open old wounds carelessly. He has to know you can never go back. You can't trust him.

All you left behind you was a mess. You were both better off this way.

With a scoff, you grab your lighter and cigarettes, stepping onto the balcony with the letter gripped in your shaking hands. You have to flick the lighter a few times before it works, the bitter wind fighting against it.

But soon the flame comes, you sigh happily, moving it up to the cigarette delicately balanced between your lips. You suck in a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs. The slight crackle brings you more relaxation than anything else these days, but you still have to fight to ignore the familiarity of the scent.

You flick the lighter again, huffing annoyed as it goes out. Once you see the distinct glow of amber, you don't hesitate before placing it against the paper and watching the pages in front of you burn up.

Ashes sizzle your skin, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you welcome the pain. A sick smile comes across your face, grinning around the now-lit cigarette in your mouth.

Isn't it funny how little words mean, when they're a little too late?

#here it is... i am nervous <3 #like i had fun writing it but is it any good?? time will only tell...#angst is difficult but very interesting to write #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic #teacher au!

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badwitch-if · 22 days

Text

OG DEMO + AU DEMO **and a note about the demo that won the vote

Magic is all too real and witches reign supreme.

This is a story of excess & indulgence. Luxury & depravity. Lust & love. Horror & debauchery.

But mostly it's a story of rediscovering your inner witch.

Bad Witch is set in a matriarchal, gothic universe eerily similar to our own, where magic runs the world. And at its core, it is a love letter to the incredibly strong and vibrant friendships that we forge in our youth, and how they ultimately shape the people we become.

Witxhes dominate the upper echelons of society, and magic has seeped into every facet of day-to-day life, for witches and humans alike. Humans were relegated to a lower class of living and as witches tend to be quite opulent & over indulgent [and more often than not revelling in their own personal vices], the bougie Season of the Witch began. Witching Society flourished and quickly overtook over the world, trickling down to influence even those without magic.

SO WILL YOU BE A BAD WITCH, OR A GOOD WITCH?

You were born to one of the most ancient and thus, important witching families; the only child of a famous mother and an even more infamous grandmother. Your ancestors were among the very first witches to lead the revolution, desperate to create a world where their children would never again die by human hands.

Your childhood was rather lonely and spent under the tutelage of the worlds best witches and academics, whilst your mother did her best to ignore your existence whenever it didn’t directly benefit her. And so years later you would often joke that your life really began once you were accepted into Ariadne Academy, the premiere school for exceptionally gifted Witxhes.

You were placed in a coven with eight of your peers; girls and boys who would quickly become your family, until it was almost like you couldn’t remember a time before them. They shared your all-consuming hunger for magic and knowledge and experiences, traits that made your coven [nicknamed the Silverlakers] an unstoppable force within the Demonhall arena. Everything was going so perfectly until it suddenly burned down around you, leaving your coven a husk of its former self.

Aaand this is currently where the stories splinter off.

OG DEMO — In the OG demo, your coven is still somewhat intact. MC’s feelings towards them may or may not have changed, but on the whole, the Silverlakers are still functioning as the overachieving badasses they were at the academy. They’re still your best friends, your soulmates, your lovers. You love them and they most definitely love you — it’s just one big lovefest.

As a master alchemist you tediously work through trials of your newest potion while still coasting off the success of your last serum, the wildly popular Moon Juice. The story focuses on the unnaturally strong bond that exists between the remaining Silverlakers, and the powerful magic you’ve wrought because of that. The incredibly deep but complicated friendships that you built are maintained to this day, and still just as co-dependent... or have they been making you feel stifled or claustrophobic?

You can choose how your relationship with Ash progressed post-breakup. Was it messy and dramatic, or did you keep going back to them, again and again? Have you and Ori been just the bestest friends all this time, or have things gotten a bit awkward?

AU DEMO — In the AU demo, your coven was broken following the loss of one of your own. You all went your own ways and everything that you shared was left by the wayside. You’ve spent the better part of a decade running away from your Silver Lake family, the only real home you ever knew. But now, against all of your better judgements, your returning to York. Only for a few days, of course. A couple weeks, tops.

You haven’t returned since you absconded after graduation, when you used a somewhat controversial but entirely contrived excuse for your disappearance. And as if The Fates themselves had seen to it, you once again find yourself thrown together with the other witches formerly known as Silverlakers. Their reactions to your return are not at all what you had expected, and you’re left second-guessing what actually happened all those years ago.

No matter how deep of a rift was left between your coven, Ori was the one who really refused to give up on you. In their very unique way, they practically strong-armed you into maintaining some kind of contact. Of all your former covenmates, you are hands down closest to Ori. Your breakup with Ash, no matter how it was done, was shocking and cut deep. You can choose whether to stand by your past actions or try to make amends with your first love.

Both the OG & AU stories will feature opportunities to reconnect with: the former childhood friend turned academy rival; as well as the young professor from your university years. And despite their shorter and more mysterious descriptions, they are both main RO’s, along with Ash & Ori.

Will you try to repair the broken connections plaguing your coven, or forge a brand new path? Will you decide to confront the nightmares of your past face on in the Demonhall arena, or continue to ignore the literal demons that chase you?

~ Fully customisable character — you can currently play as a woman, man, or non-binary person; straight, gay, or bisexual. Customise your character's personality, style and how they reacted in major moments of their life leading up to present events,

~ Choose how to react to your current coven dynamics — fight to save your soulmates & strengthen your long-established bonds, or play around on greener pastures with other witches

~ Meet your familiar and decide which form it takes, with your familiar's animal impacting the story

~ Set up a cozy, witchy corner to call your own! A few options include a reclaimed lighthouse, luxurious penthouse in the sky, and a secluded cabin in the woods

~ Continue to cross sexual conquests off your list of Lovers to Bed, or get serious and pursue a more serious connection. There are currently 4.5 love interests [all gender variable] as well as an optional poly route. I'm also considering bringing back a character who was cut from the OG story... TBD!

~ Decide what happened to MC's relationship with Ash, in the years since graduation. Have they drifted apart while leading separate lives, or have they been on-and-off for the better part of a decade?

~ Get answers & closure by chasing down ghosts from your past. Give yourself over to the demons in your past, or fight to find a balance between your life and the monsters at the gate.

~ Explore the ever-changing hellscapes of Demonhall and confront your demons, or keep those traumatic memories in the past where they belong

~ But above all else, choose which path your character takes going forward. Chase your dreams and loves, or turn your back, light it up & watch the world burn around you.

During your time at Ariadne Academy, rumours swirled nonstop about your coven.

You got along too well.

You loved each other too hard.

Some people said you were a bunch of weirdos, while others whispered [a little too loudly] that all of your parents had conspired together, bribing the Witches Council to put you all together in one coven. But back then you couldn't give a shit about anyone or anything outside your Silver Lake home.

You found your first love within your coven, as well as seven other soulmates. And for a long time, that was all you needed.

☆ Elijah Akos {m}

☆ Suki Aoki {f}

♡ Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}

♡ Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}

☆ Belladonna Humphrey {f}

☆ Endora Stills {f}

☆ Hazel Trout {f} — Deceased

☆ Bren Wylder {m}

The grandiose and horrifying Demonhall is a favourite pastime for Witches young and old. Two opposing covens enter the arena (or as it's lovingly called by fans, the Demon Dome) and are sealed inside. Usually a timer is set for 6 hours, but some exhibition games run a 'last Witch standing' simulator, that can go on for days.

At the core of every Demonhall arena lies it's true power, a demonstone. The crystalized heart of a demon powers and creates unique and dangerous environments for covens to progress through. Whether it's a futuristic, neon playground; the dilapidated ruins of Titans; or a much too lifelike version of the floor is lava, each unique setting has been randomly and lovingly crafted by the demonstone.

Just as each demon is unique and come with their specific set of baggage challenges, so do their corresponding arenas. Some are more manipulative in luring you into their traps, while others don't waste time in throwing everything they've got at you.

The object of the game, quite simply, is to challenge & toss opposing witches out of the match, using whatever spells & curses, or hexes & charms you keep in your arsenal. All while avoiding the real terror of the Demonhall, the demon itself.

For over a decade, your life revolved around Demonhall. You were the Lead for your coven, meaning you often bore the brunt of whatever the demonstone was hurtling at you. Your Silver Lake coven dominated the amateur Demonhall circuit for the better part of a decade. You and your covemates were elevated to a level of celebrity that few others at Ariadne Academy could relate to, as you were splashed across dozens of magazine covers before you were 18.

You planned your life around your obsession and love of the game, and as your graduation approached, you fielded dozens of offers to play for top-tier professional teams. But then... the unexpected happened during a match and you lost a member of your coven.

☆The First Love☆ ...& Ash's playlist

Aisling DeLoach {f} // Asher DeLoach {m}, 31

Ash was your first love. You dated for several years during your time at Ariadne Academy. You grew up together in your Silver Lake cottage and soon after you met, you found it hard to deny your teenage crush.

You bonded over a mutual (rather mad) obsession with Demonhall, and it didn't take long for that bond to translate onto the arena. The Silver Lake Demonhall coven dominated the competition, thanks in large part to the connection you shared with Ash.

You made plans together to follow your passions after graduation, and even courted the interest of several top-tier professional clubs. They wanted you both, and were willing to restructure their teams around you & Ash.

But life happened, and you surprised everyone when you suddenly broke things off with Ash and the Demonhall teams. Instead you followed a secondary love and traveled across the world in pursuit of cryptozoological mysteries.

In the decade that you've been working out in the field, Ash has been named Demonhall MVP for three years in a row. Their legions of adoring fans have only multiplied. Is there room for you in their life nowadays, or is it truly too late?

☆The Best Friend☆ ...& Ori's playlist

Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}, 30

Ori has been your longest and closest friend. No matter what your relationship was like with the rest of the coven, you could always count on Ori having your back. And sometimes being a shoulder to cry on, during the rockier parts of your relationship with Ash. In a way, it's always felt like the three of you had your own kind of connection, but at times, that could put Ori in the middle of your shit with Ash.

Ori is a highly sought after Master Architect, one of only two in the country. They’re instrumental to the buildings integrity and the future success of it’s residences. Ori often spends weeks onsite, crafting intricate enchantments around the bones of the structure, ensuring not only structural safety but doing everything in their power to position them for prosperity.

There's never been any fronts or facades with Ori, just transparent (sometimes brutal) honesty. You've never had to pretend around them and you might even be your truest self when you're with them. And then the two of you would stay up all night, talking and watching movies, and polishing off copious amounts of alcohol. In fact, many of those nights ended up serving as inspiration for your new experimental potion, a cure-all hangover draught.

In the years since the academy, Ori has tracked you down across the globe too many times to count. It always seemed like they had some magical way of knowing when your life was going to shit and they'd spontaneously turn up with boxes of wine & chocolate, immediately taking over your kitchen to cook up something utterly delicious

☆The Lifelong Rival☆

Viridian ‘Poe’ Black {f/m}, 31

Poe was one of your very first friends, long before the academy. Your mothers ran in the same high society circles and so you were often left to your own devices. For Poe that usually meant running off into the woods to scout for berries and beasts, or tirelessly watching or reading up on anything to do with Demonhall. And in fact, decades later, you've still never met anyone as obsessed with the game as them. Even as a kid, Poe was haughty and overtly snobby; they always knew exactly what and who they liked, and rarely strayed outside the lines.

But for some reason or another, you were someone they happily tolerated and actually seemed to like. Much to their delight, Their Demonhall fanaticism eventually infected you as well, and you spent countless hours debating the various forms, methods, and positions of the beautiful but deadly game. The two of you would often daydream about your future life at Ariadne Academy, and their eyes lit up with unabashed glee when they spoke of how together, you would bring about a new era of Demonhall. But then came the week before coven placements. And even after all of their extensive testing, you & Poe weren't placed together.

After that Poe very rarely spoke to you and altogether stopped responding to your many messages over the years, and just like that, the delicate friendship you once shared was snuffed out. And while they'd always been sarcastic and biting, that had rarely been directed towards you. Until you were put in competition, both academically and in the Demonhall arena, and then you were introduced to an entirely different side of Poe. The one that knew your weaknesses and just when to exploit them, who seemed to take a particular happiness from your defeat.

☆The One That Got Away☆

Julia St. James {f} // Julian St. James {m}, 35

The two of you have a rather torrid history. Or at least, you might in another universe. In this one, sadly, your love affair was cut prematurely short after one perfect night. Before it could even begin.

Shortly after arriving in Iceland but before your apprenticeship could officially begin, you found yourself alone in a pub. Suddenly Jules slid into the booth opposite you, apologizing profusely while begging you to let them stay on a moment while they avoided a rather cantankerous individual. You didn’t stop them from ordering a drink, and then one turned into two, and two into three, until neither of you could say how much time had passed while you’d been talking away.

You talked of magic and philosophy, theology and literature, and no matter the topic, there was never an awkward pause or break in conversation. And not once did they bring up Demonhall. It was somehow exactly what you needed at the time, just weeks following your graduation from Ariadne Academy and everything that had had transpired in the weeks before.

That night you both felt on the verge of something so much more. Before it was complicated by running into a colleague of theirs out with their wife. She was an acquaintance of your mother's and expressed shock that you'd be seen out and about with Jules St. James, the newest and youngest junior professor in the university's history, and a somewhat big deal in deity and divination circles.

☆ ...

#if #interactive fiction #hosted games #choicescript #interactive novel #witches #choice of games #magic #wip #if wip #badwitch #badwitch if #if: wip #if: fyi #if: submission

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

A companion piece to my previous Shinedown Steddie thingy.

Eddie's last year was...

Yeah, it just was. It existed. That's the best he can say about it.

Sure, there was a ton of touring, awards, interviews and he really tried to keep it together, he really did. But ignoring that he and Steve were no longer together was about as easy as ignoring he was missing an arm or a leg. Sometimes he wishes he actually lost a body part instead of Steve's love.

But that wasn't exactly true, was it? Because Steve told him he still loved him when he left. And hell, if he didn't feel the same. Still does.

Eddie keeps dodging questions about Steve in interviews. Asks for privacy, for space, but never refuses to answer the simplest question - does he still love Steve? "At this point, I'm pretty sure loving Steve is a part of my DNA," he smiles at the interviewer. "I can't even imagine not loving him, not caring for him. So yes, um...the answer to your question is still yes. It will always be yes."

It took him a while to actually get back to working. The first weeks were something Eddie had never felt before, and he's felt a lot of pain in his life. This? This was almost worse, because instead of something sharp and burning he could focus on, there was just ever-stretching emptiness, with no promise of ending, not now, not ever.

When Gareth basically forced himself through the door of his (and Steve's former) home, he found Eddie curled up in a ball on the bed, smelling like unwashed laundry, dirt and misery. He hadn't showered in about a week or so, only sometimes got up to drink, Steve's voice still ringing in his head - "please don't blame yourself, Eddie. And take care of yourself, okay? I still care about you and I need to know you're going to eat something healthy, drink enough water and sleep. Please, don't take this out on yourself." So that's what Eddie did - once in a while he got up, got a glass of water, nibbled on a cereal bar if he felt like it and tossed the rest in the trash. Then he curled up back in bed, surrounded by the books he loved, used to love, but now couldn't read a single paragraph. He cried the lot the first day, the second too, then less. After a while, he wasn't even sobbing anymore, his tears just did whatever they wanted and the most he was willing to do was flip the pillow so he didn't constantly lie on a wet fabric.

Gareth saved him. It sounds dramatic now, but he really did. He forced Eddie out of bed, opened the curtains and the windows to let fresh air in and sent him to the shower while he ordered pizza. Not the most gourmet and nutritious dish and Eddie kept chewing on his two slices until they grew cold and soggy, but at least he got something warm in his stomach. And as Gareth sat next to him and patiently waited for Eddie to take another bite, come on, just one, he felt a pang of guilt - this was his friend, not just his bandmate. And if Eddie didn't start doing something, he could hurt someone else he loved, their careers, livelihoods.

He promised Gareth to stop by the next day despite Gareth's insistence that he could take as much time as he needed. But Eddie doesn't want to. Steve was already gone so he just had one thing to live for. Well, and Wayne and the kids. But abandoning his work felt like the whole breakup was meaningless and he knew Steve didn't want him to give up on his dream. So he dove back into work and didn't resurface until months later.

The words didn't come at first, but Eddie willed them to, waited for hours over an empty notebook until they seeped through his barriers, bleeding onto the paper. His previous songs were about anger, rebellion, joy of being different. The new ones? They spoke about regret, lost tenderness and love transcending time. He was worried to present them to the band, but they give it a shot and surprisingly, their manager sees the potential. So they go along with it.

During one of their tours, Eddie read the news and his heart did that thing where it squeezed so tight he thought he'd faint. There was a mass accident near the area Steve lived now - Dustin kept updating him, always so convinced they'd find their way back together - and Eddie wondered what if Steve got caught up in it, what if he's one of the victims, what if he'll never get to make things right-

He knew he shouldn't, but he grasped his cellphone in shaky hands and quickly typed.

So sorry, I know I probably don't want me contacting you but I read the news and I got worried. Are you OK?

Just a simple OK is enough

please

just let me know you're fine Stevie

Minutes and hours stretched insufferably and Eddie was already going through the worst case scenarios, but then his phone beeped. He nearly dropped it, but when he read the message, he choked out a relieved sob.

I'm okay

Thank you for checking in, Eddie. Sorry for making you worry

I was helping at the scene, just got home now

Are you okay too?

After that, they kept in touch. Just brief messages, ensuring each other was fine, that Eddie safely landed wherever the tour took him and that Steve wasn't too stressed out from his job and studies, didn't get too much in his head. Small, supportive messages, careful but loving.

And so they're here, almost a year later.

The hole in Eddie's chest is still massive, still bleeding, but he thinks that having Steve in his in any capacity is better than not having him at all. And he'll take anything he can get.

He pours his adoration into his songs, never sending them to Steve, not wanting to pressure him or make him feel guilty, but all the love he still has for him needs an outlet. "The Crow and the Butterfly" just came out and it does fairly well. It makes Eddie feel a bit weird, to expose his feelings so openly, but he will never be ashamed for loving someone. Especially someone as amazing as Steve.

It's late evening and he's home now, even if it still feels half-empty. Working is the only thing that makes sense now and so he's spending his free time perfecting one of the last songs that feels like a small personal breakthrough for him, he feels like he's getting somewhere, maybe closer to acceptance, understanding.

He strums on his acoustic guitar and sings.

Wrap me in a bolt of lightning

Send me on my way still smiling

Maybe that's the way I should go

Straight into the mouth of the unknown

I left the spare key on the table

Never really thought I'd be able

To say that I'll visit on the weekend

I lost my whole life and a dear friend

I've said it so many times

I would change my ways no never mind

God knows I tried!

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

I finally put it all together, nothing really lasts forever

I had to make a choice that was not mine

I had to say goodbye for the last time

I put my life in a suitcase

Never really stayed in one place

Maybe that's the way it should be

You know I've lived my life like a gypsy

I've said it so many times

I would change my ways, no never mind

God knows I tried

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

I'll always keep you inside

You healed my heart and my life

And you know I've tried

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

The tones finish but he's still staring into space, wondering if this is really it, all his life will be.

And then his phone beeps.

Eddie doesn't really want to answer anything or anyone, but he knows Steve had an important exam a few days back so maybe he has the results. And he won't make him wait ever again.

He sees the text and blinks, frozen in place.

What if I told you that you aren't too late, crow?

He can't believe it. But it's Steve's number, it's him, and Eddie is laughing like a madman now, tears streaming freely from his eyes. It isn't a victory, still pretty far from it, but it's like a first stitch for his wound, a promise of healing.

He grabs his phone and quickly types back.

I'd tell you that I'd chase you forever, butterfly, I'd wait as long as you needed. Do you need me to wait longer?

In seconds after answering, his phone makes a sound again, but it's not a message this time, it's a call.

Eddie has never answered a call this quickly in his life.

"Hi," he chokes out and holds the small lifeline to his ear with both hands, as something incredibly fragile and precious.

"No more waiting, Eddie," says Steve and maybe he's crying a little too, from the soft shift in his voice that only Eddie knows from evenings spent together, romantic tragedies and broken friendships on screen giving Steve the same vulnerable tone. "You've finally caught me and I'm...I think I'm ready to be caught, too. If you still want me."

The "yes" that Eddie gives is the first of the two most important ones in his life.

Even if he doesn't know it yet, he will give the same answer two years from now, to kneeling Steve. But that's another story and another song.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie songfic #steddie song rec #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #Spotify

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 3 months

Text

Steve sighed as he sat down in the club, a drink in his hand as the women went to go refresh theirs. He couldn't help but smile at Nancy and Robin. He was glad they were friends now. They were the two most important people in his life, and he was glad they were able to be a part of his life at the same time. Nancy was still figuring things out after her dramatic breakup with Jonathan, in which she found out about how he didn't apply to the same college like he had said he wanted to and that he lied about. Of course, she was halfway through yelling at him when she realized that she didn't really care and that she was relieved that they were going to the same college. They both realized that they hadn't really cared for a long time, and there was this weird sort of laughter between them that gave Steve hope. She needed time to figure things out, though, and he was willing to give it to her.

"They are very cute," a woman beside him said.

"Pardon?" Steve asked.

"Your friends. . .how long have they been together?" the woman asked.

"Um. They aren't," Steve said with a confused expression.

At least, he didn't think they were. No, Robin would have told him.

"Are you sure about that?" The woman asked.

Steve watched them. Nancy laughed, and as she did so, she touched her arm. No, Robin definitely would have told him. She tells him everything. She even calls him in the middle of the night to tell him that her period had arrived during the night. Even though she never asks, only calling to complain, he always drops everything to give her the things that she needs. And vice versa. . .well, not a period but a nightmare. She would always answer, and they would talk for hours. No, Robin would have told him. He wasn't sure though, and suddenly, the jealousy he felt whenever he looked at Nancy and Jonathan started to bubble up.

"They aren't," Steve insisted as he turned to face her fully. "The woman on the left is my ex-girlfriend and the other woman is my best friend. . ."

The woman scoffed and gave him such a stink eye that it startled him. Who was she to judge him? They were staring at each other and Steve could feel the bitch rise within him. They didn't even notice when Nancy and Robin started coming back to the table.

"So that means that they're not allowed to date? You know, it's men like you who held back women back for decades, who held lesbians back - " she started to lecture.

"Hey, if you would just let me finish. You don't even know what I was going to say!" Steve exclaimed.

"I know exactly what you were going to say. Because she's YOUR ex-girlfriend and YOUR best friend, they're not allowed to do what makes them happy. Wouldn't want to hurt that frail male ego of yours," she sneered.

"Hey! You're making snap judgments about me, and you don't even know me!" Steve exclaimed.

"All men are alike. . .always telling women what they can and can't do!" She snapped.

"Lady, I don't know who hurt you, but even if it was true, I wouldn't have a problem with them. If they wanted to be together, I would set aside my feelings. . . No matter how much it hurts because I just want to see them happy. That's all I ever wanted for both of them," Steve said, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Right, it's so easy to say that. You men with your pretty words. . . Master manipulators," she scoffed. "Don't you men understand that we would be better off without you. They're better off without you."

The last part hit him like a blow to the stomach. It's something he always secretly thinks about the people in his life, and it started at home. . .wouldn't his parents be better off without him? Deep inside, he thought that way too with his new, better family.

"Hey!" Robin shrieked, and Steve jumped, backing up. "Not you, dingus. The bitch right there."

"I'm only trying to help," she scowled.

"The only person you're trying to help is yourself," Robin said. "And I'm not some helpless little princess who needs rescuing. This princess has helped herself on more than one occasion."

"Lesbians like us - " the woman started to say.

"Hmm. Pretty presumptuous of you. How do you know I'm a lesbian? I could be bisexual or pansexual, a term I recently learned about. Hell, I could be a friend supporting a friend. You got it right. I am a lesbian," Robin said and scowled. "And this lesbian doesn't agree with man hating lesbians like you."

"You don't need a man - "

"That's right. I don't need a man. I want a man. I want this man in my life. He is my best friend, my platonic soulmate, and I have enough lady balls to admit that I would be lost without him, just like he would be lost without me," Robin said. "Never in a million years would I be stupid enough to throw it all away by dating his ex-girlfriend."

"Lesbians can do whatever - "

"Within fucking reason. I mean, sure lesbians can rob a bank, but the question is, should they? Morally, I mean. It's not just the rich folk who keep it there. It's the hard-working folk who are trying to make ends meet who keeps it there, too. I mean, sure, if they were desperate enough, but just because you understand it doesn't make it any less wrong. The question is, how desperate are these lesbians? If they're not desperate and they rob the bank. . .they're greedy. . . But if they're desperate. . .well, who knows what the reason is. To sum it up, I'm not desperate, and I'm not looking to rob banks. I'm not going to date someone just because I can. I'm going to date someone because I want to, and I'm going to do it without hurting my best friend because how can I be with someone if it hurts Steve? I would never be happy in that relationship."

"That's just - " and she scowled as she tried to form words.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did a Robin get your tongue?" She asked. "Just because a lesbian can do something doesn't mean they should. You're capable of murder too. Should you go on a killing spree just because you can? Everyone's choice has a consequence to it, including lesbians. My life is not better off without him, and how dare you come over to him to tell him that? How dare you try and make him feel guilty for existing. . .for having feelings that matter just as much as mine?! Men are a part of our lives, sweetheart. Suck it up and move on. Now, leave before I decide to start talking with my fists."

The woman huffed and stormed off. Steve and Nancy stared at her in shock.

"Wow," Steve said.

"Lesbians like her give lesbians like me a bad name and a bad taste in my mouth," Robin said as she drained her glass. "Ugh. How dare she put her nose where it doesn't belong? She doesn't even know us."

"You know, If you ever decided to - "

"I know, Steve, and that's why I love you so goddamn much. I need another drink," she said and started to sing as she walked away. "Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never going to turn around and desert you!"

Nancy plopped down in the seat next to him, her own glass still full.

"She's awesome," Nancy said. "That was amazing."

"Yeah," he said.

"I'm glad you finally have someone who will fight for you, not that you ever really needed, but I'm still glad you have it," Nancy said.

"Yeah, me too," Steve said with a grin.

"You know, I fought for you in the beginning. I really did whenever everyone was trying to tell me who I am and that sleeping with you would be a bad idea. And then Barb died, and maybe it wasn't the bad thing everyone was probably thinking about, but something bad happened, and I couldn't see past that. I tried to fight it, but all I could see was Barb dying. I don't anymore, for the record. I just think I needed some time and perspective to really see how I feel about you. It's always been you, Steve. I know I've probably waited too long, but I want to fight for you too," Nancy said.

Steve smiled, his heart pounding in his chest. He took her hand in his.

"I want to fight for you too," Steve said.

Suddenly, Robin came back to the table and squealed at the sight of their joined hands.

"Hey, didn't we come here with another couple?" Robin asked. "Where are Eddie and Chrissy?"

Suddenly, they burst through the crowd, giggling maniacally. Eddie's shirt was off, and Chrissy's face was smeared with someone else's lipstick.

"I finally kissed a girl!" Chrissy squealed.

"Uh, aren't you two still together?" Steve asked.

"We have a very open relationship, Harrington," Eddie said.

"Where's your shirt?" Nancy asked.

"Sometimes, you don't have all the answers to life figured out. When my shirt is ready to be found, it will be," Eddie said.

"You have no clue where it is, do you?" Robin asked.

"None," Eddie shrugged.

They all laughed, and the bitterness and the excitement from what just happened faded away into the distance. Accepting the fact that men and women are always going to be entwined was proof amongst their tight-knit group. Robin and Steve were more than okay with it. No one was going to split them apart, not even each other.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for cutting off a friend due to immature behavior and not saying why?

Some context here. I (21, they/them) cut off my friend (22 they/them) due to some repeated, childish actions in a shared discord server. Initially, the server was just for some of our friends because we all had some similar interests and ran in the same social circles on Twitter. It had been a thing for a couple of years, and as social circles tend to do online, activity would fluctuate depending on who was online and had the energy. Here's where the problem starts.

I work a full-time job and have been for our entire friendship. Early 2023, I switched jobs and had to get some licenses to keep it (and for perspective, these are some of the most difficult exams I've ever taken and are comparable to the bar exam for lawyers in my industry), and spent most of the summer studying. I also had a very heavy loss in my family irl late in the summer, then broke up with my girlfriend a couple months later. It had been a really heavy series of months and I wasn't really talking to anyone but my girlfriend (pre breakup) and my irls. The server had gotten inactive other than my friend who would consistently send their art and writings in, but no one really responded. I and 1-2 other people would occasionally have chats in other channels, but nothing beyond "x happened" "damn, that's crazy." But after a while, they'd consistently try to push to get attention on their works— which is fair, I understand wanting your friends to see things you made! After a couple weeks of barely anyone talking, they started getting increasingly passive-aggressive as the days went by, and it became more and more awkward to talk in the server or comment on what they were sending because it was less telling your friend you liked their stuff and more of an obligation. It didn't feel like it would be genuine, so I never said anything.

They left after a dramatic announcement that they didn't want their works being ignored while people chatted in other channels (again, very brief convos). I didn't reach out to them after that, but I started slowly but surely soft blocking them on other platforms. We were never particularly close, more of casual internet friends, and I'd had mild hangups about them and we didn't agree on a lot of points (but it was nothing worth ending a friendship over before that point). Then I get a message a couple weeks later of them asking what they did and why I blocked them, which again— valid! But they asked if I'd said anything to anyone about them because no one else had been talking to them either. I hadn't. I was so overwhelmed I literally didn't want to talk to anyone. But I was so bothered by the fact that they'd think I'd try to poison our other friends' opinions of them because I had a problem. It was just an issue I had with them personally. I mentioned some prior sticking points I'd had because I didn't want to bring up their behavior in the server and let them know I'd seen it because it felt like it was encouraging it? Like how sometimes you need to let a baby cry it out before it gets to sleep. I feel like I did the wrong thing, and it's still bothering me.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jinniesxl · 10 months

Text

Summary : After breaking up with your boyfriend your friends prescribe you a fun night at the club, where you end up meeting a guy who you could only describe as perfect. So you decide to get to know him . Even if it is just for one night.

Warnings: Alcohol, Swearing, Oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), not wearing a seat belt??, semi public sex?. Idk they were alone but outside so😭

Pairings: Jimin x reader

3,400+ Words

========================

I'd rather be lost in the lights, lost in the lights.

I'm out of my mind.

Can you help me numb the pain?

Like Crazy- Park Jimin

The doors swung open and suddenly the music that was muffled from the outside became clear. As soon as you stepped into the club you could feel just how loud it was, the bass made your body vibrate. With the mix of blaring music, the smell of alcohol, sweat,strong perfumes and the intense blue strobe lights you were positive you would have a raging headache within minutes.

Being in a room full of sweaty drunk people practically fornicating on the dance floor, was not how you envisioned your night but here you were. It was the only way to get your friends –Mina and Soyeon– off your back. Ever since you and Namjoon had ended things they haven't left you alone. They think you're heartbroken despite you telling them that you were really okay.

The truth is your breakup with Namjoon didn't really hurt, of course you were sad but it wasn't messy or dramatic. You had mutually decided that you wanted different things and that you could still be cool with each other and you were content with that.

You would much rather spend your night off at home than in this club but if coming here meant Mina and Soyeon would stop trying to comfort you for something you were fine with, then you would party until their hearts were content.

Even though they originally came here to lift your spirits, you knew you would be by yourself within the next half hour. They loved to go clubbing and it usually ended with the both of them getting laid, but you were in a committed relationship for more than two years so this wasn’t your thing anymore. You used to come here with them all the time but as soon as you met Namjoon you decided to find more chill hangout places with less thirsty men around.

But now you were back here and not sure if you knew what to do. Your first instinct was to head for the bar because there was no way in hell you would get through this night sober, especially because you didn't want to be here in the first place.

The three of you sit on stools right next to each other and Soyeon orders shots for each of you.

“Shots already? I don't want to get too wasted tonight. I have things to get done tomorrow.” you whine “Relax Y/N just have fun tonight don't worry about tomorrow, let loose for a while”

You sigh and agree to “let loose” for the night.

Your friends begin to look around scanning the room most likely in search of a guy to hook up with tonight. Mina begins to open her mouth to speak when the bartender sets 3 shot glasses filled with vodka in front of you. Mina and Soyeon pick up their glasses and you do the same, clanking them together you mumble a quiet “cheers” and gulp it down cringing at the taste.

You order more drinks and pick something light on the alcohol. “Y/N do you see that guy” Mina nods you in the direction of a tall guy with dark hair who's wearing tight black jeans and a loose button up shirt with two buttons undone at the top. He's cute you'll admit but he has a sort of “frat boy” vibe to him and that's something you're just not into.

“He's been looking at you since we sat here. Go talk to him” She seems eager to find you a date but no matter how eager she is it won't be this guy.

“Yeah, he's been looking at me and 10 other girls. No thanks. You guys don't have to sit here and help me find hookups you know.”

“Fine, Fine lets just drink” Soyeon suggests

=================================

Just like you expected both of the girls had left you sitting at the bar alone. They were now out on the dance floor or hooking up somewhere. You weren't having much fun so you pulled out your phone to text them that you were going home, but before you got the chance to type out the text you feel someone sit on the stool next to you.

“Not feeling it tonight huh?”

You look up to see if he's talking to you, which now you know he definitely is. He eyes you like you're the only person there. Looking from your eyes and lips down to your exposed legs in the short black dress you wore, maybe a little too short but it's all you had on hand.

“Yeah. It seems dull here tonight, but maybe i'm just not in the clubbing kind of mood”

“Let me buy you a drink before you go”

You frown at him. He seems nice but you just want to go home. “I just want to get out of here. Sorry.” His face lights up. Weird for a guy you just turned down. “Okay you want to get out of here? Come somewhere with me. It seems we both have nothing better to do tonight.”

Something told you he wasn't the type to give up easily and he gave you a good vibe so why not? Something about him made you curious. “One drink”

“One drink it is” he says, clapping his hands together and smiling. It was the prettiest smile you had ever seen. It was a smile that reached his eyes. It was genuine. When he smiled his eyes turned to crescent moons.

It was cute, but at the same time this man was far from cute.

Dressed in nicely fitted blue jeans and a matching jacket with gem stones scattered throughout in patterns. Under his open jacket he wore a white mesh tank top that had thicker straps on the shoulders. He wasn't super tall, about average height, but he was nicely built and skinny but you could tell that under that jacket he was at least a little bit muscular. And those thighs, his thighs were thick they looked strong it made you want to sit on the-

Get it together Y/N he's a stranger you just ran into

He ushers the bartender over to take your drink orders. You both tell him what you want and then swing back into conversation.

“Why'd you come tonight if you didn't want to be here because I can't lie you've looked like you want to be anywhere else since you got here.” he points out.

“My friends practically forced me out but now they're off doing god knows wha-” You pause Did he just say “since you got here”

“What do you mean since I got here? Have you been watching me?” you question

“It's impossible not to look at the prettiest girl in the room” you blush and he continues. “I saw you come in and since then my attention keeps drifting to you.” You giggle just now realizing that you're a bit tipsy from the drinks you've had earlier.

“You’re flirting with me but haven't even told me your name. It makes you seem like a player.” You joke. He lets out a small laugh. “Jimin, Park Jimin.”

“Well it's nice to meet you, Park Jimin” you say, making sure to highlight “Park” with your voice. “If it's anything to you, my name is Y/N”

“Y/N, I like that its pretty”

The bartender comes with your drinks and the two of you immerse yourselves in meaningless conversion.

====================

You told Jimin “one drink” and you meant it but that didn't stop you from taking him up on his offer of leaving together, not with the intention of hooking up, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell that wasn't off the table.

The both of you had waited about an hour after you finished your drinks and had some food to help you sober up. Jimin had only had that one drink the whole night so he was okay to drive. Apparently he only comes to the club for dancing, not drinking. So you were a special case for him.

Before you left the club you had made it abundantly clear that this was a one night kind of thing and you most likely wouldn't see him again after this. Or at least you wouldn’t seek him out, and he was to do the same. He was okay with it although you swear you saw disappointment flash his face.

Sure you were over Namjoon, but dating this early on felt wrong, you just weren't ready yet. Not that you thought Jimin would want to date you after one night of hanging out. Tonight was only for fun and since it was supposed to just be a good memory you wanted to leave everything at that. A memory. There was no particular reason why but you didn't feel the need to bring a person on as a friend just because of one good night.

Mina and Soyeon had left with their hookups by the time you left so there was no point in staying.

Getting in Jimin's car you look around at the interior. Leather seats, that doesn't surprise you in the slightest.

“Where are we going?” you look over at him. “Why don't we drive around the city”

“I want to see the stars” you tell him “We can't see them if we stay in the city they get lost in the lights.”

He thinks for a second and then starts the car “I know a place” He begins to drive and you don't ask questions, for some reason you trust him. Even though you just met him you feel a sense of safety around him.

He turns on the radio and a pop song starts to play through the speakers. You're not sure who it is but it's a nice song. “I've always wanted to try something and this feels like the right time. Don't crash.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you're already pulling open his sunroof and sticking your head out. He slows down to a speed that you won't be blown back at and laughs as you yell into the night.

You know you look ridiculous but you don't care, people in movies alway look like they're having so much fun when they do this so you wanted to see for yourself. After you've had your fun you pull your head back into the car and shut the sunroof.

“Was it as fun as you thought?” Jimin chuckles. He thought it was cute how happy you looked after doing something so simple. It made him feel refreshed to be around someone so free spirited.

He thought maybe this could last forever.

You were clear on how you felt about tonight and he respected that even though you could've been so good together. By morning this would all be a memory.

“Not as thrilling as the movies make it seem but it felt nice”

A few more songs played on the radio before you got to your destination, you and Jimin singing along to the ones you knew.

You had driven out of the city, to the outskirts, it was quiet; peaceful. Jimin stopped the car “Lets get on the roof. I have blankets in the back.” The roof of what? There were no buildings out here. He wasn't talking about the car right. You'd fall off and break a leg within minutes.

You cocked your head to the side ready to ask where he was talking about, but he had already grabbed a blanket and stepped on a part of the trunk to pull himself up. So he did mean the car.

You kicked your shoes off and set them inside of the car before walking to the trunk and pulling yourself up. It was bigger than you thought up there but still dangerous. You sat beside Jimin and he wrapped the blanket around you, leaving his arm to hang around your shoulders and instead of moving away like you know you should have, you leaned in to his side.

The both of you sit in silence and look up at the sky, you could have sworn the night never felt this warm and the stars had never shone this bright. Being in this moment with Jimin felt right.

He glanced over at you staring off into the night sky and it made him smile at you once again. That beautiful eye smile.

You felt his eyes on you so you looked over. He brought his face down closer to yours and lightly grabbed your chin lifting it ever so slightly so you were forced to look into his eyes. “Y/N” he spoke softly “Can I kiss you”

You froze, you wanted to speak but were afraid of what you might say or ask him to do so you nodded your head and without hesitation Jimin finally closed the gap between your lips. The kiss started off softly, his plump lips testing out yours, but soon enough his hand dropped from your face down to your thighs, that were no longer covered by the blanket or your dress. The dress you were wearing had ridden up doing an extremely lousy job at covering anything.

He began to touch your thighs, caressing the outsides over so gently and then sneaking his hands into the top of your panties–where he stopped– Jimin pulled his lips away from yours and you were prepared to scold him for teasing you, but when you looked at him, it made sense

“Do you want me to keep going? It's okay if you don't want to go any further.”

“I want this, please make me feel good Jimin.” And that was all he needed before diving his hands into your panties and placing his lips back on yours. You spread your legs out so that he would have easier access but there was only so much room on top of his car.

He found your clit quickly and started to draw soft, gentle circles into you. Shamelessly you began to lift your hips into his hand desperate to feel more. Your eagerness made him grin into the kiss, but he had a feeling you wouldn't appreciate him teasing so he added a finger to your now wet cunt, slowly pushing it in and pulling it back out. The feeling of something finally inside you, made you moan.

Enjoying the noises coming from your lips he added another finger to the mix, stretching you out for him. You could've cum like this and Jimin knew it from the way you were clenching around his fingers, but he didnt want you to come, not yet, he still wanted to taste you.

He stopped suddenly and pulled his fingers out of you, you almost whined at the feeling of being empty. “Hey why'd you sto-'' You were cut off by him gripping your thighs and positioning you laid on your back on the cold metal of the car. You sat yourself up on your elbows and lifted your knees. He grabbed the hem of your now soaked panties and threw them back somewhere. If you weren't so dazed by his movements and desperate for pleasure you would’ve yelled at him for being so careless.

Throwing his legs over the front windshield of his car he placed his head directly over your navel.The position he was in couldn't have been comfortable.

“So that I could do this” Wasting no time he lowered himself so that he could place his soft lips over your sensitive clit. He moved his lips and tongue in a way that made you see stars. “F-fuck Jimin im gonna cum” Pushing his fingers back into your soaked cunt he lifted his head to watch you come undone “Thats right baby, cum for me” Quickly he put his mouth back on you, licking your clit and pushing his fingers in and out of you simultaneously. That was all it took for you to let yourself go.

You came on his mouth and fingers as your thighs trembled. He continued to rub your clit and help you ride out your orgasm. “Jimin, too much, it's too much” you gasped out while snapping your thighs shut. That didn't stop him from pulling them open to press one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt.

He pulled himself back onto the top of the car before licking his lips that were now slick with your cum.

You caught your breath and began to sit up as Jimin leaned over your body to kiss you again. “Are you alright?” He asked eyes slightly widening with concern because of your already fucked-out-looking state.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “I'm great, I just need a second, I wasn't expecting you to be so good with your mouth.”

He laughed and jumped down off the car holding his arms up for you to grab. “Come on, it's almost daylight, let's get you home.” Almost daylight? What time was it? How long did you and Jimin stay out here?

To any other one night stand Jimin would have suggested sex in the back seat, but with you it was different, not because he didn't want to but he knew it would make it harder to respect your wishes of keeping this a one-nighter.

Trying not to let the disappointment show on your face, you take his hands and let him help you down. Once you were back on the ground you pulled your dress back over your thighs and wobbled over to the passenger seat. Not long after, Jimin hopped into the driver's side and tossed the blanket to the back seat.

“I tried to see if your underwear were on the ground but its too dark so it looks like you'll have to go commando for a little while. Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his words. “You owe me underwear Park Jimin” you said playfully. With that he laughed and had you put in your address so he could take you home.

==========================

The ride was quiet but comfortable, your wishes for this to be a one night thing remained so when you arrived at your house it was time to say goodbye.

“Thankyou for tonight” you told him while opening the door and stepping out of his car “Ill see you around Park Jimin”

“Goodnight Y/N”

And with that you grabbed your shoes off the car's floor and walked to the door of your apartment. Jimin waited in his spot until you were safely inside before he left.

=============================

The next morning –or more like afternoon– you woke up in your bed still wearing the dress from the club. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand beside you. It was text from your group chat with Mina and Soyeon:

MINA: Y/N we saw you with that guy last night you'd better tell us EVERYTHING

YOU: There's nothing to tell we sat and had a drink that's all.

You couldn't tell them what really happened because you knew they would never let it go.

SOYEON: LIAR! we watched you leave with him

You closed your phone. The last thing you wanted to do right now was talk about Jimin. Truthfully you regret not giving him your number last night because now that you think about it he's everything you want in a man.

============================

A few hours later after you showered and were now just relaxing there was a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anyone and Mina and Soyeon would've just let themselves in because they had keys in case of emergency, but used them all the time anyway.

You got up and made your way to the door. A little bag with a piece of paper sticking out was sitting on the step. You grabbed the bag and looked around outside but there was no one.

After going back inside you opened the bag, in it was a 4 pack of underwear and a note.

I felt bad for loosing your underwear I know these aren't the same but its something (:

I know you were clear about last night but just incase you change your mind *51######## is my number

-Park Jimin

You had never been more happy to lose a pair of underwear. Even though it hadn't been long you already missed Jimin Like Crazy and you were definitely going to call him.

===============

This was my first time writing detailed (kinda) smut so I think it turned out pretty okay👍🏽

I have an idea for a part two if anyone would be interested.

Please let me know what you think!! <3

#jimin #jiminbts #jimin smut #jimin x reader #park jimim #bts x reader #bts #bangtan boys #face jimin #like crazy #bts namjoon #rm bts #rm #namjoon

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bizaar · 2 years

Text

Cruel Summer - Part One

- Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history...

word count: 5k

warnings: ANGST (the most dramatic babies you've ever seen) mentions of death/dying, swearing, breaking up (so sorry if I forgot anything!)

A.N.: First part of the Babysitter!reader series! I just broke up with someone so you're getting angsty sorry not sorry byyyyyyeee

Your breakup with Eddie was bad. As bad as any teenage horror story of doomed summer romances you’d heard talk of over the course of your adolescence. Bad because you’d always laughed at those couples who went from mooning hopelessly over one another, unequivocally mad for the enduring nature of their love, only to stand in fits of wailing despair when it ended as quickly and passionately as it began. Bad because that was never going to be you, and then suddenly it was. It left you standing hideously exposed, the rosy haze of the life you’d lived enveloped in his everything suddenly lifted to leave you blinking stupidly under a spotlight, fumbling to explain yourself to the crowd.

You try to fool yourself into thinking it wasn’t that bad – it’s only the end of your first real relationship, your first real love, you’re first real anything – hoping that somehow saying it will make it true. You rub yourself raw trying to cocoon yourself in the lie.

It was that bad, worse, even, because you didn’t see it coming. Movies had told you that your first love was meant to be an enduring thing, forever if you were careful with it, and that true love was the most powerful force in the universe. You could move mountains and heaven and earth with true love, you could bring back the dead with but a gentle word and a kiss. With true love? You could do anything.

You couldn’t do shit with what was left of Eddie’s love.

A spectacle such as the fallout of a high school relationship is something to behold akin to a volcanic eruption. Toxic to the point of choking anyone within a twelve-foot radius of the poisonous ex-lovers, leaving radioactive trails in their wake. You swore you’d never be foolish enough to lose your mind over someone like that, open yourself up to the kind of hurt that could push you to madness when it was over too soon. Star-crossed lovers turned mortal enemies as the people in their lives take petty sides and do their utmost to tarnish the reputations of the one they once revered.

Real Romeo and Juliet shit, only the really real version, where they don’t get the opportunity to martyr themselves for love, and one day they realize in spite of everything they are still Capulets and Montagues, and the rivalry lives on, made all the more putrid by a love that has overstayed its welcome.

You always told yourself you were too smart for that kind of nonsense, and yet you’d loved Eddie Munson completely, madly and unequivocally, with every inch of every particle in your body, and you’d foolishly thought he felt the same.

You should have seen it coming.

Some tiny, rational part of you had told you not to go see him. You knew you had to babysit tonight, but you’d been too caught up in the fires of your righteous indignation to heed your rational mind.

It’s not every day your boyfriend skips your graduation ceremony and proceeds to avoid you for the better part of the following month. All you’d wanted was a sign of life, an explanation, any kind of answer as to what the hell was going on, and by God had you gotten one.

You do your best not to fall apart as you make your way across town, though if you cared enough to take a look at yourself in any passing reflective surface you would see that you’re doing a piss poor job at that. Your face is pinched tight and streaked with tears, and every odd breath comes in a ragged sob. Your chest aches with a sharp, lancing pain that hurts so terribly you would not be surprised to look down and find that you were bleeding. You imagine the dark, crimson trail you must be leaving, like gorey breadcrumbs one could follow all the way through town back to the Forest Hills trailer park.

You wish you’d thought to drive, then at least you could have broken down in the relative privacy of your car, but you’d wanted the walk to gather your thoughts, to prepare yourself for whatever it was that had kept Eddie so distant from you. Now, subjected to a different kind of walk of shame, your mind is buzzing with the concept of insult to injury.

You imagine you must be quite the sight to behold.

It’s dark by the time you reach your neighborhood, and well past the agreed-upon time when you knock at the Henderson’s front door.

A cursory glance at your watch sends a violent spasm of alarm lancing through your midsection.

You’re late. You’ve never been late before.

It's just another piece of Eddie you’re going to have a very hard time extracting, like a shard of glass from the bottom of your foot.

You try to make yourself presentable in the brief interval between your knocking and Mrs. Henderson’s answering, scrubbing at your eyes and taking deep breath after deep breath. All it accomplishes is to streak your already running eye makeup and push you towards hyperventilating. You are noticeably out of breath when the door finally swings inward, bathing you in golden light.

You imagine you are not the picture of an angel she'd expected, standing there, white-knuckling the strap of your bag, sweating in the August heat, and doing your utmost to look somewhere halfway to normal.

You try not to notice the way Mrs. Henderson’s round, cherubic face falls a little when she claps eyes on you.

Her voice is laced with saccharine concern as she says your name in a way that has you teetering on the edge of breaking down again.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you start, choking on the lump swelling in your throat. “I was— I just—“ In a panic, you bite the excuse off before it can cross the threshold of your lips.

What had you even planned to say? I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Henderson, but you see, my stupid boyfriend just got finished curb-stomping my heart into a pulpy mess and I’m just a bit upset?

Ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself with a sobering start. He doesn’t love you anymore.

You feel like you could cry again.

“Time got away from me,” you mumble, tugging sheepishly at the sleeves of your ill-advised cardigan.

In spite of the state of you, Mrs. Henderson brightens and dismisses the notion with a flippant wave.

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re here now, that’s what matters – come in!”

You follow her over the threshold and into the living room in a haze, depending entirely upon familiarity and muscle memory to get you on track, going through the motions of setting down your bag on the kitchen island as you have hundreds of times before.

Still, you can feel yourself slipping and begin groping for familiarity in the dark, anything to anchor you to this moment: warm wood paneling tinted orange by incandescent light bulbs, dated shag carpet half worn down to threads in the grooves of routine living, frigid air conditioning blasting down on you, flash drying the sweat beading across your neck and shoulders. You blink and watch colors run into each other like crayons in the sun, and breathe deep the strong tang of air freshener covering the faintest hint of a cat somewhere in the house.

You lie to yourself that you're going to be fine as you pluck at a loose string hanging from the fraying hem of your cutoff shorts.

You are vaguely aware of Mrs. Henderson speaking somewhere very far off in the distance.

“Dusty, look who’s here!”

You don’t really hear her, you’re still standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Munson trailer, watching the door ease open after you’d pounded on it.

Eddie had blanched and physically recoiled upon seeing you, confirming your suspicions that he was hiding from you.

“What the fuck, dude.” had been the only thing you’d been able to get out, hurt feelings mixing with anger in a potent combination that had you brimming with angry tears.

You’d watched Eddie hesitate at the door, very clearly considering going right back inside and shutting you out again before he heaved a sigh that carried the weight of the world. The anger that welled in you was poisonous.

Two years of your life washed down the drain in less than twenty minutes. Time wasted. It makes you want to scream.

The next four words you’d spoken ring out, though not in your own voice.

“Where have you been?” Dustin asks, bringing you back to where you stand in the Henderson’s living room. “We were worried sick!”

He’s got his hands on his hips as he stares at you, his tie-dye shirt undulating beneath the warm lights and making you feel like you’re swaying.

His mother is quick to scold him for the audacity of his outburst.

“Dusty.” She warns, tut-tutting him with a slow shake of her head.

Mrs. Henderson had never been much of a disciplinarian.

Dustin makes an incredulous sound and throws up his hands in a way that paints the picture of a mother who has been sitting up, waiting for a wayward child out well past curfew. It would be halfway funny if you had the capacity to laugh.

He slumps moodily into the couch cushions as his mother brightens again and turns to regard you as you slip further out of your body.

“We’ve gotta stop kidding ourselves.” Eddie says somewhere very far away, “This thing has pretty much run its course…”

Mrs. Henderson clasps her hands together and breathes out like she’s preparing to dive into an overlong speech.

“Okay, you know all the emergency contacts, the house rules, I should be back by 11:30...” She says, trotting back and forth across the living room to collect her purse and keys, all the while chattering away, giving the same babysitting spiel she went through every time you stopped over to make sure Dustin didn’t burn the house down.

You nod absently and bid her farewell as she slips out the door, and you feel the bite of pins and studs from Eddie’s battle-vest in the palms of your hands as you shove him.

“Why are you doing this?” You cry, your voice is tight and quavers, threatening to fail before you can even put up any kind of a fight. You’re half blind from the tears collecting at your lashes, “You can’t just—” You choke on the sob welling in your throat. “What happened— Eddie—Baby, just talk to me. Please. We can move past it, whatever it is we can fix it if you just let me—”

He rubs at the back of his neck and rocks back on his heels, like he’s desperate to get away from the situation and it’s taking every fiber of his being to make himself stay.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” He huffs, his voice trembling.

The silence in the living room is punctuated by the muffled sound of Mrs. Henderson’s receding footsteps, followed by the clunk of a car door slamming shut and the rumble of the engine starting. Headlights paint the walls through the front window in a burst of white, and just like that she’s gone. You’re stuck staring out across the street at your house, sitting dark and empty. Your parents aren't home... they're never home, that's why Eddie always comes over... Suddenly, you have to fight the urge to run out the door and retreat to the sanctity of your bedroom, like maybe you'll find him there, and you'll discover you imagined the whole thing.

All you want is to crawl under the covers and disappear from the world entirely, but there are too many artifacts of your relationship scattered across the expanse of your bedroom. Polaroids, mix tapes, band-tees, memories. You wonder with stark despair whether you’re ever going to be able to set foot in your bedroom again. It feels perhaps a tad overdramatic, but there’s so much of Eddie in you now, so much of his personality blended with yours, that it feels like an appropriate response. "Drama" may as well have been Eddie's middle name – his middle name is Joseph, you think absently, and suddenly you don’t know what you’re going to do with that kind of intimate information.

You aren’t exactly sure if you’re failing to grasp the situation or just plain rejecting it, but you refuse to accept that Eddie is trying to end your relationship over what essentially equates to nothing, and the fight it has kicked up is arguably the worst thing either of you has ever been through.

Despair turns him mean. He’s pacing and carding his hands through his hair like he can’t stand it, like he’s about to fly apart at the seams, and somehow it’s your fault.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie snaps, face wet with tears, “What— you want me to tell you I don’t love you anymore? Is that what you want?" When you fail to answer he takes a step toward you and suddenly he's shouting, "Tell me what I can say to make you understand that this is over!”

You shake your head in defiance and openly sob, hands crossed over one another, pressed flat to the left side of your chest where you feel the pain of a phantom wound, gaping, bloody, and raw. Your strident refusal to answer the terrible question speaks for itself, and it wrenches a sob from somewhere deep inside Eddie. For the briefest of moments, he crumples, crushing the heels of his palms into his eyes in a way that is so heartbreakingly boyish you have to stop yourself from trying to hug him.

For a long moment, it’s all either of you can do but stand there, watching the other fall apart and hating each other for it.

Finally, Eddie breathes out hard like he’s trying to calm down. It doesn’t work.

“Okay,” He sniffs, voice trembling as he swipes the back of his hand across his nose, “Fine, I can do that– be the bad guy? If that’s what it takes...”

You shake your head and can’t help but take a tentative step toward him. Then another, and another, until suddenly you’re toe to toe with him.

“Don’t…” you plead, your voice is small and very nearly doesn’t make it through the vice that has your throat. “Please don’t…” His hands are shaking as you reach for them, his brows knit together and the corners of his mouth turn down in a mask of devastation.

“I don’t love you anymore.” He says softly, forcing the words out like it physically hurts to say them.

They embed themselves in you like little shards of glass and suddenly you've taken to bleeding, but you don’t believe him. You think you wouldn't be able to make yourself believe him if your life depended on it, even if it was true, because you loved him so much it hurt. So much you felt like this could very possibly kill you if he didn't stop. How could he not feel the same? How could this not be killing him the way it was killing you?

You knit your fingers desperately in the front of his shirt.

“You don’t mean it — please don’t say that.”

You try to meet his gaze, like maybe if you can make him see you, really see you, it might stop this, but he won’t look at you. You have to bite back the violent urge to damn him for his cowardice.

Eddie shakes his head, dark curls dancing around his face as he gets caught on a sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t fucking love you anymore.” His voice breaks.

“Yes you do!” you shout, shoving him hard enough to send him staggering back a pace. “Why are you doing this, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

Eddie hangs his head as new tears roll down his face to collect at the point of his chin and suddenly you can’t decide if you’re more angry or heartbroken as you reach for him again. You know you're babbling, but you're desperate to say anything that might somehow get through to him to make him abandon this terrible crusade.

Eddie won't hear you. He shrugs out of your touch and shakes his head again, crossing his arms over his chest to hug his biceps like it’s the only sense of security he has. All the fight has gone out of him.

It's over...

“Are you okay?” Dustin asks from where he’s sat on the couch.

You turn slowly and blink at him, feeling suddenly like you’ve been submerged in water, swaying on your feet with the tide. You’d almost completely forgotten he was there.

He’s staring at you with the most intense mask of concern you’ve ever seen on him. It’s a strangely sober look for Dustin, somehow too world-weary for the little boy you’d thought you knew so well.

You realize a bit too late that he’d asked you a question. You know you need to respond if only to keep up appearances, but you feel wrong, like you’ve been pulled out of your body and had something else stuffed back in that is trying very hard – and failing – to emulate a human being. It makes you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“I’m good.” You lie. “I’m really really good. In fact, I’m great.”

He furrows his brows and you know immediately you’d pushed it too much.

You’re bad, you’re so so bad. In fact, you’re terrible.

“O-kay…” He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he seems too preoccupied with something else to care much about it.

Dustin fidgets with his fingers, twisting the digits and picking at the skin of his nail beds like he’s become suddenly nervous in your presence.

“So… listen,” He starts, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You hear the words, but not in Dustin’s voice.

Eddie has walked you out to the empty jungle gym standing in the middle of the trailer park. Before the fight, before the violent implosion of your relationship, before he says the words he can never take back, he slumps against the rusted metal structure and stuffs his hands in his pockets, casting his gaze down to the divet in the earth he makes with the toe of his dingy sneaker.

“We need to talk…” He says, and you feel yourself getting pulled swiftly down into the dark... deeper under the water.

The pressure makes your head swell.

From the beginning, everyone had warned you Eddie was going to break your heart. Friends, family, even teachers, as inappropriate as that advice had been. It always made you angry, determined to prove them wrong. Maybe it had started as an act of rebellion, leaning hard into a relationship that was evidently no good for you, but none of them knew how Eddie was sweet, and kind, and fun and funny and everything but what everyone warned you he would be.

You hate that in the end, he was the one who had made them right. Self-fulfilling prophecies and all that bullshit.

The end…

Just the notion of it is enough to send you teetering over the edge of hysteria. Something wells up from the aching spot behind your lungs, like a balloon filling with water, blocking your windpipe and threatening to suffocate you. Your ribs crack and you feel yourself begin to bleed again as it swells to the point of pain. You feel like you’re about to burst.

The words are spilling out over your lips before you have the good sense to realize you should excuse yourself before you have a breakdown in the middle of the Henderson’s living room.

“Hold that thought, Dusty, just for one second,” You gasp, turning and practically sprinting for the bathroom down the hall.

You shut the door behind you and rip one of the fluffy white towels Mrs. Henderson keeps down from the rack and cram your face into the thick terry cloth. For a moment there is nothing, then a sharp intake of breath before you’re screaming, as loud and as long as you can before your head starts to swim. The sound is mercifully muffled by the fibers. It catapults you into a memory from last spring.

You’re sitting on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, absolutely fuming over the injustice of something completely trivial – a poor grade on a test, an undeserved reprimand, the specificities of it don’t matter, because Eddie is there, and he still loves you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, doing his best to lift your spirits.

Your toes are tucked neatly beneath his thighs and he’s got his hands around your calf, tapping out a guitar riff there. As casual a gesture as it may have seemed, it’s suddenly so intimate and you’re struck with a pang of grief as you realize you’re never going to be that close to him again.

“Jesus, I’m so mad I could scream.” You huff, the angry lump in your throat makes you feel like you’d tried to swallow a softball.

Eddie tilts forward and crosses his arms over your knees, hugging you there.

“Do it.” He says, ghosting his lips over the exposed skin poking through a tear in your jeans, “Let’s see what those pipes can do.”

You cast a dour look his way and wire your jaw shut, beginning a mental count of all the reasons you can’t just start screaming in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. You’re not supposed to have boys over and if you scream your mom will come running and flip her lid, someone might call the cops … it’s going to be too loud?

As if he’d anticipated your excuses, Eddie pushes up and snatches one of the pillows you sit nestled among at the head of your bed, tucking it into the space between your knees and your chest.

“Scream into the pillow.” He instructs, patting the creases flat in a way that feels gentlemanly.

When you level him with an unimpressed look he rolls his big dark eyes and takes the pillow back.

“Like this,” Deep breath, and the muffled smack of his face hitting the pillow before there is the faintest sound of Eddie screaming theatrically into the fabric and goose down. You bite your lip to keep from giggling and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be furious, indignant, incensed even. Hard to keep up that facade when you’re dating someone like Eddie, who would more than likely combust into flames if he tried to go a full day without doing something entirely absurd and unhinged just to make you laugh.

When he’s done screaming, Eddie is red-faced, hair wild and brows furrowed beneath the curly fringe that falls across his forehead. There is a thin line of spit, grossly drawn out from the semi-damp pillowcase to where it is attached to the plump flesh of his bottom lip. He severs the connection with a swipe of his tongue and makes a show of coughing and spluttering, fishing a stay feather from his mouth. You snort with laughter.��

He grins that Cheshire Cat smile of his, cheeks indenting with dimples, and shoves the pillow back towards you.

“You’re up, Babycakes.” He says.

You recoil with playful disgust, “Gross, no way!”

“Why not?” He asks, furrowing his brows in a way that conflicts with the wide stretch of his mouth.

“You just slobbered all over it!”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you, and suddenly there is the faintest hint of mischief glinting there. You meet his gaze, tentatively waiting for whatever appalling thing he is about to say.

“Like that’s ever bothered you before.” He says.

It’s relatively tame in the grand scheme of things, but the way his eyebrows jump with innuendo has you blushing.

“Eddie!”

“Ed-die!”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp as he mimics you, pitching his voice up to mock you, absolutely scandalized.

His pretty doe eyes sparkle with delight and you take the opportunity to snatch the pillow from him, only to whip it around and whack him upside the head. The pillow explodes in a snowy cloud of feathers, and the next thing you know he’s surged forward, and you’re screaming with laughter, bracing your hands against his chest and shoulders to try and hold him at bay as he licks a fat wet stripe up the side of your face.

The towel in the Henderson’s bathroom is perhaps as effective a buffer as a pillow, it certainly does a better job at mopping up your tears as you release yourself from the cotton prison, red-faced and breathless. You’ve left dark smudges on the white fabric where your tears have made your eyeliner run, more than it already has. You only manage to feel slightly bad about that, suppressing a pitiful whimper as you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You’re hoping the shift in temperature might force you into some kind of hard reset, bring you back to your senses, but you’re not so certain it’s going to work this time.

Eddie taught you to do that.

“Helps with panic attacks,” he’d said at the time, rubbing your back and speaking soft, gentle words to you as you stood with your head in the bathroom sink.

The foolish tragedy of breaking up is that everything reminds you of Eddie. Every inch of this town, your house, your bedroom, your own goddamn body is laced with him. You feel raw, and despite this being your first real heartbreak, somehow you know even after you get over him, if you ever get over him, you’re never gonna be the same again.

You hate how you suddenly understand all those sappy love songs, all those foolish people standing in not so private corners of very public spaces, wailing about how they thought someone had loved them while everyone looks on in varying degrees of concern. Therein lies the problem of giving yourself over to someone so completely, loving them entirely.

I thought he loved me.

You slump to the cold tile floor and hug your knees to your chest.

You tell yourself you could leave, should leave, pick up and start over somewhere new, somewhere quiet and untainted by the echoes of him. Your memories are loud and pervasive and every one of them revolves around him, foolishly, as if he is all you’ve ever known.

You could just leave… It’s sorely tempting, you’ve graduated, no immediate plans on the horizon… newly single? There’s nothing holding you here –you quietly wonder if that was Eddie’s aim, but you’re still too upset to give him that much credit– you even allow yourself to begin a flight of fancy, entertaining an escape from Hawkins, from Indiana entirely. Then you remember the way he had cradled your face in his hands as he extracted himself from your life.

“There’s nothing for you here. This goddamn town is gonna suck the life out of you if you don’t get out.”

If you leave Hawkins now, that means Eddie wins, despite the fact that you’d been so painfully unaware it was even a competition. You suppose that this is how it starts, the taking sides, the tearing down one’s reputation. You can just imagine yourself, maybe a year from now, in a new town with new friends, going on and telling stories about how your ex was such a fuck up, a total man-child, couldn’t even graduate high school… He was a guitarist in this really shitty metal band and played this stupid fantasy game every weekend with a bunch of kids, that’s weird right? What a freak. You could knock the teeth out of that version of you for being so cruel.

He’s not a freak, you insist to no one in particular, He’s wonderful and generous and … and and and? …And he doesn’t love you anymore.

You thump your head against the bathroom cabinet and heave a sigh as you remember that you’re here in the house for a reason.

Dustin is waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh, you push up from the floor on shaky legs and turn back to regard yourself in the mirror.

It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine…

And you are. There’s no gaping wound in your chest, no bloodstains streaking down your front. You breathe deep and tell yourself that you really are fine, a little red and puffy in the face, and feeling very much like you’ve been hollowed out, like carving a pumpkin, but fine enough to sit and watch movies with Dustin for a few hours at least. It’s just a breakup. People break up every day. All you have to do is hold your shit together until midnight – you glance at your watch – just four hours and then you can fall apart, rant and rail, and rave and tear down the walls if that’s what it takes.

You take a deep, steadying breath, count backward from three, and whip the door open, doing your best to plaster what you hope is a genuine smile across your face.

"Okay kiddo, you wanna watch a movie or something?" You call as you head down the wall.

You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #cruel summer #cruel summer fic

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harlowsbby · 1 year

Text

Best thing I never had

“Come on let’s talk out all of our feelings I mean you’ve both been together for about five years now and you’ve been engaged for a few months, I don’t think this is worth getting a divorce.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes was Urban being serious right now.

You just found out the man of your so called dreams has been sleeping with your best friend behind your back, even after you gave her a home to stay in after leaving her abusive and toxic ex, you didn’t think they’d ever do something like this but I guess you were wrong.

“There isn’t anything to talk about Urban I’m done with him and I’m most certainly done with her, the two of them can kick rocks for all I care.” Jack looked up at you in sorrow and defeat he knew he had just lost the best thing he ever had.

A few weeks earlier

“Remind me why Miya is coming to stay with us again?” Your friend Miya was coming over for a few days well more like a few months but Jack didn’t need to know that.

You finished up making up her bed before turning your attention back on Jack.

“She’s going through a hard time Jack she can’t afford to live on her own financially especially since her breakup with Jessie and she needs a place to stay besides her sisters.” Jack rolled his eyes and went downstairs with you after him.

“If you don’t want her to stay Jack I can tell her that Jack is acting like a big grumpy baby and honestly wants you on the street.” You stated dramatically making him smack his lips.

“Now you know I’d never say anything like that I just wanna make sure we’ll still have our time together.” You coo’d and made your way over to him and stood in between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“As long as you promise we get some we time then I don’t care if she spends a few days or months here.” You squealed and jumped up and down. “Thank you Jack she’s gonna be so happy to be here I know she can’t wait to get a break.”

You gave Jack a quick kiss before heading upstairs to call Miya.

“What did I miss?” Came Urban’s voice from the living room. “When did you get here?” Jack asked him with his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’ve been here remember you let me crash last night, what was Y/N going on about.” Jack sighed and hopped off the counter. “Her friend Miya broke up with her boyfriend so I guess she’ll be living her for a few months. Till she gets back up on her feet at least.”

“Wait Miya? As in her best friend Miya.” “Yeah what about her?” Urban smacked his lips and rubbed his bearded chin. “Miya is a baddie that’s what and you get to see that fine piece of ass walking around your house for free. I’m very jealous of you.”

Jack wasn’t understanding what Urban was talking about or what he was getting at.

“What are you on about Urban?” “You got the best of both worlds Jack take advantage of that shit if I was you I’d be messing around with Miya on the lowww.” Urban song sang.

“So you expect for me to cheat on my wife to be with her best friend since birth?” Jack raised his eyebrows at Urban who was already chin deep in some leftover chili.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Jack knew thinking about the possibility of cheating on you was wrong but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t glance at Miya’s chest or ass whenever she was around and now that he was thinking about it Miya did give him flirty eyes a few times.

“You’re thinking about it aren’t you?!” Urban laughed and got up and tossed his dish in the sink Jack rolled his eyes at him before hopping down the counter.

“Whatever Urban I don’t need you putting any ideas in my head, I’ll see you later at the party alright?” It was Clay’s birthday and since he never really celebrated his birthday Jack wanted to throw him a surprise birthday party.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later Jack but remember what I said! Two is better then one.” Urban snickered before leaving the house leaving a wondering Jack all alone in his thoughts.

Later that evening

“Come on you guys have been in there for like hours it feels like.” Jack huffed and puffed in frustration as Miya and You giggled from behind the locked door.

You were both getting ready for Clay’s birthday and Jack knew how long it took you to get ready but now having Miya with you as well he knew he’d never get a chance to use the bathroom.

“I have to pee really really bad!!” Jack yelled through the door. “So use the guest bathroom or use Miya’s bathroom, you can’t incapable.” You sassily told him.

“So go use the guest bathroom blah blah blah.” Jack mumbled under his breath. “What did you just say?” He froze when you heard him behind him he turned around and gave you a weak smile and blushed when he noticed Miya laughing from behind you.

“I said I’ll go use the guest bathroom and take your time the party doesn’t start for another hour or two.” You glared at him and nodded your head in approval “That’s what I thought you said.” Jack looked back at Miya who sent him a flirty wink making his face red.

“Why is your face red?” Jack completely forgot you were still in front of him. “Uh it’s just really hot in here that’s all baby I’m gonna go get some water and get ready.”

You had a feeling he wasn’t telling you the truth because Jack’s face never just got red out of the blue and it wasn’t even hot in here it was freezing.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and get some water, do you want anything?” Miya asked you “Oh no I’m good but thank you.” You gave her a small smile before going back to doing your hair.

Miya bit her lip nervously as she made her way downstairs she looked back up the stairs before quickly dashing to the bathroom Jack was in and shutting the door from behind her.

“What-.” Jack looked up form brushing his teeth and his eyes widened seeing Miya behind him. “Hey Jack.” She slurred her words and ran her fingers across his shoulder blades.

“Oh hey Mia or I mean Miya yeah hey Miya.” He spoke nervously making her chuckle. “I just wanna thank you again for letting me stay here I still feel bad. I feel as if I’m intruding on Y/N and you.”

“Absolutely not you can stay as long as you want I don’t mind honestly.” Jack watched her nervously as she looked around the bathroom. He loved how her pink and well manicured nails gripped around the water bottle, oh how he wished those hands were wrapped around something else.

“Jack!! Hello.” He quickly snapped out of his daze and began to blush when he realized what he was day dreaming about. Miya smirked as if she knew what he was dreaming about.

“You know I’m not stupid Jack, I know you want me just as bad as I want you.” She whispered in his ear and ran her tongue across his earlobe.

“I never said I wanted you Miya I’m engaged and about to be happily married I’m not sure who told you that.” She rolled her eyes. “You did Jack, your body language did I see the way you practically undress me with your eyes whenever I’m around. I’m no fool Jack.”

Jack gulped and leaned back on his bathroom sink he didn’t think it was that obvious. “So what are we about to do or what does this mean.” Miya licked her lips and slowly made her way to her knees before unbuttoning Jack’s jeans and shaking them till they fell to the floor.

“How about I show you where things can go for us.” Jack inhaled and watch Miya go to work he bit his lip and tried his best to hold in his moans and groans but it felt so good.

“Fuck Miya.” He groaned and gripped the counter behind him, his veins poking through his muscled arms and before he knew it he was coming undone under her touch.

“Better clean yourself up I don’t want Y/N suspect anything.” She smiled innocently before placing a kiss on his lips and leaving the bathroom as if nothing just happened.

“What did I just get myself into it.” He told himself and groaned.

At the party

The entire car ride over to the party you felt as if something was off something in the air didn’t seem right. You sat in the back on the way to the party with Miya but the entire car ride there you noticed Jack would glance in the back a few times through the review mirror.

You sat with Urban and Neelam and watched Jack talk with a few of his friends.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You looked up seeing it was Miya.

“Oh it’s nothing Miya just be overthinking like always.” You gave her a weak smile and went back to stirring your drink.

“Come on you know you can’t hide anything from me we’ve been best friends since birth.” You sighed maybe it was best to tell somebody.

“Something is off with Jack he just seems like he’s hiding something.” “How do you know he’s hiding something?”

You’ve been with Jack for a minute and you could always tell whenever something was bothering him. “His body language he looks so stiff as if he’s got something to say.” Miya mentally cursed she hated the way you were so good at reading everyone’s body language.

“I’m sure he’s okay Y/N if something was wrong I’m sure he’d tell you now come on let’s go get a drink.”

“Yeah you’re right he’d tell me if something was wrong. Now let’s go get a drink and get fucked up tonight.” She smirked and raised her shot before drowning it. “That’s my girl now let’s go.”

Later on in the night it started to die down a bit which you were thankful for. Looking around you noticed Jack and Miya weren’t around which you found odd. You got up and went into the kitchen where Ace and Urban sat, drowning down a bag of Cheeto puffs.

“Have you guys seen Jack or Miya?” You asked them. “Uh last time I saw Miya she was with Neelam but as for Jack I’m not sure.” Ace said with a face filled with Cheeto dust. You giggled and got a napkin and cleaned his face up. “Thank you Y/N.”

You sighed and left the kitchen wondering where Jack was because all you wanted to do was go home and cuddle in bed with him while some baking show played in the background.

You decided to step outside for some air the smell of beer and weed recked all over the house. Once outside you finally let out the biggest gasp for air.

You leaned against the garage door and took out your phone just flipped through some tik toks to try and pass the time before deciding to text Jack.

Jack 💕

- where are you, you wanna go home?

You waited for the message to go through before putting it back in your pocket but as you did you heard a ding go off. You scrunched your eyebrows up in confusion seeing the window in your car rolled down a bit.

“Jack? Is that you in there.” Your stomach began to turn and flip when you heard the familiar groans and moans of Jack.

“Fuck just like that Jack.” “Yeah? You like that Miya I bet you do.” “Oh I do Jack fuck you’re so good.”

You watched with blurry eyes as Jack and Miya messed around in the back of your car.

“So after seven years together it means nothing? I’m just that easy to cheat on.” You spoke and watched how Jack pulled away from Miya and how she quickly tried to cover herself up.

“It isn’t what it looks like baby.” “It’s exactly what it looks like Jack and Miya I should’ve known you weren’t a loyal friend.” You whimpered and began to walk backwards.

“Baby please just hear me out please.” You watched as Jack stumbled out of the car and tried his best to throw on his shirt.

“No Jack what we have or had is over I’m done with you I’m done with the both of you.”

“Y/N don’t be so dramatic Jack always wanted me and you can’t be angry over that.” Miya laughed from the backseat as Jack tried to hush her up.

“Let’s just go back home baby and talk about this Yeah?” He went to grab your arm but you quickly yanked it back. “No I’m done you stay here and have fun with your sloppy seconds. We’re done Jack and this, us, we’ll never be anything ever again.”

Flashback over

“And that’s what happened and that’s why this entire engagement is over. Why would I marry someone who’s been unfaithful.” You looked down to Jack who looked down in shame.

Urban knew he had a part in this and the right thing to do was to come clean and tell you that he made Jack do it but he figured you’d be hurt enough.

“So were really done?” Jack whispered with tear-filled eyes.

“There was a time that I thought you did everything right, no wrongs, I must’ve been out of my mind.” You chuckled you use to put Jack on a pedestal in your eyes he could do no wrong.

“We’re done Jack. I’m done with you. Forget me and forget my number and act like I never been existed, because I’ll be doing the same thing.” With that you got up and walked away leaving the man you once loved.

You were the best thing he ever had but you were also going to be the best thing he never had.

( was iffy about this one since it’s my first real fic in a minute but lmk what y’all think 😭 )

( Sorrows will be up tomorrow )

taglist

@heavyhitterheaux @nattinatalia

@a-moment-captured @moody4world

@pianoisland @hoodharlow @softtcurse

@lcandothisallday @jackmans-poison

@jackharloww @awhore4moree

@exoticr0ses

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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asgardwinter · 2 years

Text

The Divorce (1)

summary | It was supposed to be only a regular break up, all the adults would blame it on parting for college, on being too young. The kids didn’t see it that way, the top2 babysitters deciding they weren’t together anymore was something that made an impact. Dustin dramatically called it ‘the divorce’ and no one knew the actual reason behind it.

❊ Series Masterlist | Next Part >>

pairing | Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

warnings | angst, cute flashbacks, friends to exes to lovers, future season 4 spoilers! (but nothing for now)

word count | 1k

author’s note | so, i wanted to do something folowing season four and this is the outcome. this first chapter is more of an introduction but i hope you enjoy it anyway :)

❊ join the taglist!

The kids called it “the divorce”.

It was a bit too dramatic for your taste, you had never been engaged to him or anything. It was just a break up to be really honest.

Just a break up.

One that really fucked up your heart and life, but that was it. There was nothing to be done about the matter, not anymore.

“No, you’re not getting it.” Dustin followed on with his story. “It was before ‘the divorce’, now everything is different! She’s not around anymore and Steve is dealing with whatever he’s dealing with in the worst way possible as usual.”

“Those two really messed up the whole thing, didn’t they?” Lucas had a tired voice, Dustin was really making him crazy with that whole thing.

‘The divorce’ had already happened months prior to that conversation, so it was really understandable for anyone to be tired of hearing about the breakup. Right after the mindflayer and the Starcourt fire everything just went down, one thing before the other just like dominos. You and Steve Harrington hadn’t been together long enough for the commotion the end caused, but it didn’t feel like that to you back in July when it crumbled down.

Feelings had only been confessed about a month and a half after the Halloween fiasco, all of them constructed under fighting interdimensional beings together on previous occasions and pretending nothing had happened the next day at school. Sharing the same traumatic experiences can be truly bonding for some people.

Whatever you had at first, it started off as a way to chase away the nightmares those weird creatures gave both of you. Sitting together in your mother’s pretty garden right in front of her trailer late at night was enough to pretend Hawkins was still the same in your eyes, a cheap trick that worked well enough. There under the stars with Steve by your side you kept trying to ignore the bright lights the trailer park had to focus on the tiny spots in the sky.

“So…” You trailed off, taking a large sip of the strawberry juice you found on the fridge, the only thing that was there for your very improvised picnic. “Will this ever end?”

Your question caught Steve off guard. Nights like that were exclusively for pretending things were ordinary, tiptoeing around the subjects you both wanted to talk about and forget at the same time. No one ever asked such a direct question in a moment like that, but he answered it anyway.

“I hope it does.” He said with little hope in his voice. “We can’t keep on living like this with one monster following the other, we’re all going to be insane one day.”

“I think I already am.” You confessed, half joking and half serious.

“Well, you’re not doing that alone.”

You both exchanged the most serious glances until falling into laughter. It was soft, free and warm, just what you need after actively thinking about all those things that happened in the small town. Everybody needs a moment to laugh their asses out and soon you were almost crying from it — happy tears.

Eyes meeting in the middle of another wave of giggles made the sound get caught in your throat, silence slowly making its job of turning the light atmosphere into something more dense but still good. Lips getting closer and eyes closing was all that followed and led to your first kiss.

You needed to confess that it was the best first kiss in your life.

And second kiss.

Maybe you got to the fifth that very night.

…

You moved away from Hawkins in August.

It was earlier than you had planned but there was no reason to stay in town after ‘the divorce’ — fuck, the code they gave it was starting to get to you. College was going to be a brand new start and you could just forget about everything at peace, with no people around you to remind you of those dark times it would be easier.

It should be but that wasn’t the truth.

The moment you stepped out of Hawkins you had hopes of never setting your foot back at it. And then during Winter break there you were, back at your mom’s trailer celebrating Christmas just like as if you never left. Going back to the city that held your greatest demons had some comfort you didn’t expect to find, it was like there you could feel understood even with the shadows looming just above your shoulder.

There was also some comfort in seeing Steve from the front window of the video store, some pain came along but you were fine with it.

The kids tried to make you and him end up in the same places more than one time, all failed attempts. You kept hoping they’d focus on other things than your life, they left Lucas and Max alone so you just expected them to do the same with you.

“You’re being fucking stupid, you know?” Dustiin said to you when you met him casually outside Family Video.

“Don’t talk about the things you don’t know, Henderson.” That was all you managed to say. “It’s…It’s better this way.”

Both of you could feel the lies hovering in the air.

…

Spring Break came and with it the doubt of coming back to Hawkins or not.

Before you could even think straight you were already on your way back to your mother’s house with a suitcase filled with enough clothes for a week. A long week. You gripped the steering wheel like a parachute, like it could save you from the houses and the very familiar trailer park you used to live in.

The steering wheel couldn’t save you from the mysterious murder that happened at that very trailer park.

It couldn’t save you from the dread you felt after that, like something was very very wrong.

And it also couldn’t save you when Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington appeared at your doorstep.

#asgardwinter writes #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington series #stranger things reader insert #series: the divorce

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michaeljoncarter · 2 years

Text

i think kyle and kory might have THE funniest and most chaotic history of any 2 characters i’ve ever seen. they’ve spoken all of like 3 words to each other in total, but literally EVERYTHING about the couple interactions they’ve had has been so insane in so many ways

the very first time they met, kyle tripped all over himself and told her he used to have a poster of her in his dorm room while donna was introducing them, then went with her and the rest of the titans to try and save gar, where kory very dramatically revealed she was possessed by raven. everybody’s like “my god!!” and kyle is just. standing there. in the background. absolutely no idea what the hell is going on or who any of these people are

and then in THE SAME ISSUE, tamaran gets destroyed right in front of kory’s eyes. she’s like on the floor having a breakdown, and kyle, who literally just met her 5 minutes ago, is still just in the background like 😬

the ONLY other time i’m aware of them really interacting is those couple pages in wonder woman where they stop a xenophobic dude from attacking an alien and kory says something like “god i’m so sick of humans” and kyle’s just fully like “yeah same sometimes i hate humanity as a whole and think this entire planet was a mistake” and starts to go off on a whole rant about empathy but gets cut off because a villain flies in out of nowhere and TURNS HIM INTO A FUCKING GOAT, knocks kory and jen out, and then the scene just ENDS.

i don’t think this was EVER ADDRESSED like was he still a goat when she woke up?? did she stay with him until the goat curse wore off? were she and jen running around with goatkyle trying to find a way to fix him offscreen? did she just abandon him to his fate?? take him to a barn??? i have SO MANY QUESTIONS like this shit was SO HECTIC FOR NO REASON

god and ALSO while afaik these are the only two times they’ve actually really talked, there’s also the fact that kory was both best friends with donna and got pretty close with jen while they were on the outsiders together right after her and kyle’s messy breakup. she has almost certainly had to sit through multiple rants about him from BOTH of his exes

she literally only knows him from 2 incredibly short, incredibly hellish interactions, and they’ve never really talked to each other, but also she probably knows more about him and his personal life than 99% of people including his closest friends. more than she ever wanted to know. WAY more.

like what the hell would her opinion of him even be?? i think about this all the time and yet i have absolutely no idea??

she barely knows him but also he was there for one of the most traumatic events in her life and also she knows every single weird thing he’s into and has seen him turned into a barnyard animal. how the hell is she supposed to feel about all that. can’t even begin to speculate. what the fuck. i’m obsessed with them

#long post #koriand'r #kyle rayner #ETA: the new titans 128 & wonder woman (1987) 174 respectively #idk why i didn't put that to begin with but those are the two issues!#hitting u wth 2 longass posts at 10am on a thursday #i think about them so much its so fucking funny #i really think they only ever interact in group settings and every time kyle’s like #“oh god oh god what does she know she must hate me she must think i’m such an idiot”#but kory looks at him and there’s just nothing #like every time she sees him or tries to think about him her head just fills with static #just white noise with the occasional flashback to goat kyle #its like a trauma response. rayner-induced dissociative episode

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moodymelanist · 11 months

Text

Up All Night (I Won't Quit)

happy pride everyone!! @dustjacketmusings requested this fic because quote "Emerie can be a better boyfriend than Cassian" so here we are hehe. hope you all enjoy!! title from dove cameron’s song “boyfriend” of course <3

moodboard also for @turesti curtesy of @sjmkinkmeme below!!

Summary: Emerie is tired of watching Nesta suffer over and over at Cassian’s hands, especially when she knows she could treat Nesta so much better.

Word Count: 3.3k

Read on AO3 here!

⚢⚢⚢⚢⚢ Emerie

Emerie sighed heavily as she looked around the room, a familiar sight meeting her eyes. Cassian had somehow managed to convince Nesta to come out with him and his friends tonight, and because Emerie would do anything Nesta asked, she’d gotten dragged along for the ride.

Other than how gorgeous Nesta looked, tonight wasn’t shaping up to be a particularly enjoyable ride. Cassian had abandoned Nesta pretty early into the night and had spent most of the time on the dance floor jumping around, clearly having the time of his life. Nesta was practically hiding in the corner of the booth he’d abandoned her in and had clearly been over things within the first half an hour, but out of what Emerie felt was a very misplaced sense of loyalty, Nesta hadn’t gotten up and left yet.

Emerie had been friends with Nesta for years, ever since they’d been randomly assigned to work on a group project together in their freshman year of high school. Gwyn had joined their duo a year later after she’d transferred to their high school, and the three of them had been thick as thieves ever since. They’d gone to the same college and had managed to get jobs in the same city, keeping their friendship alive through breakups, grad school, job changes, and all the other ups and downs that life had thrown at them.

Gwyn hadn’t been able to come out tonight because she was away at some fancy conference, but Emerie knew she hadn’t exactly been torn up about missing another episode of the Nesta and Cassian show. They’d been dating on and off for three years, each temporary breakup somehow managing to be more dramatic than the last, and Emerie still didn’t understand why Nesta put up with it. She was one of the smartest people Emerie knew, she was incredibly thoughtful, she cared so deeply for the people closest to her, and it certainly didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous.

Nesta was an amazing lawyer, sister, and friend, so Emerie didn’t understand why she was wasting her time with Cassian. He was loud, obnoxious, and so obviously not right for Nesta that Emerie couldn’t wrap her head around how they’d managed to do this for so long. Nesta was one of the most amazing people Emerie had ever met, and Cassian was just some guy. Why did he get to have someone as perfect as Nesta Archeron without even trying, when Emerie knew Nesta deserved so much better?

Emerie’s love life might have been nonexistent, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t silently seethe over how easy it should’ve been for Cassian to treat Nesta right. For fuck’s sake, anyone who actually cared about Nesta should’ve known how much she hated places like this. If it had been up to Emerie, she knew Nesta would’ve much rather spent the night at a bar where you could actually hear people instead of a thudding baseline. Or better yet, they could’ve just stayed in, ordered some food, and spent the evening curled up on the couch talking shit as they caught up on the latest garbage reality show.

It wasn’t up to Emerie, though, so here they were. She sighed and took a sip of the overpriced drink she’d gotten at the bar as she surveyed the dance floor. She wasn’t going to leave Nesta’s side, but it never hurt to take a look. Nobody really caught her eye, though she of course noticed Cassian finally remembering his girlfriend was here as he pushed through the crowd to come back to their booth.

“Come dance, babe,” Cassian yelled over the music once he was close enough. He was dressed in an all-black ensemble that Emerie had to begrudgingly admit he looked good in, and a thin layer of sweat covered his skin from all the dancing he’d been doing without Nesta.

“I don’t want to,” Nesta yelled back, crossing her arms over her dark blue dress. Emerie pointedly didn’t look at the way the motion made Nesta’s cleavage even more pronounced. “I’m not dancing on you with all your friends watching.”

“Come on, don’t be boring,” Cassian whined. “We’re supposed to be having fun!”

Emerie had to suppress an eye twitch at his tone — there were few things more pathetic than a grown man whining — but thankfully, Nesta wasn’t moved.

“You know I don’t like the club, Cassian,” Nesta snapped back. “This isn’t fun for me.”

“Then why did you even agree to come?” Cassian asked with a frown. “I don’t fucking get you.”

“Because I wanted to spend time with you,” Nesta ground out slowly, like she was talking to a child. “Clearly you don’t feel the same.”

“Obviously I feel the same,” Cassian retorted. Emerie couldn’t hold back her eye roll at that one, but it wasn’t like her opinion mattered much. “Why else do you think I came over here to ask you to dance?”

“Yeah, after I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. What a gentleman.”

“You could’ve gotten up and joined me whenever you wanted, nobody made you sit here and fucking mope all night—”

“Oh, I’m moping now? Maybe if you hadn’t asked me to come somewhere you knew I wouldn’t like I wouldn’t be sitting here like that in the first place—”

Emerie just sighed and downed the rest of her cocktail, doing her best to tune out the arguing happening right next to her. They would eventually get tired of arguing and either leave to fuck it out or Nesta would decide she’d finally had enough and call an Uber. Either way, Emerie would probably get to go home soon, so she just wished they would get this latest argument over with soon enough so she could get away from them.

“Fuck this. Don’t call me tomorrow when you realize how you fucked this up again,” Nesta eventually snapped. Emerie barely had a chance to grab her phone before Nesta was snatching her purse and leaving the booth, her long legs carrying her quickly to the club’s exit. “Let’s get out of here, Em.”

Emerie didn’t bother to hide her sneer in Cassian’s direction as she followed Nesta outside. If Cassian replied, it got lost in the loud music and the crowd, and Emerie didn’t really care what he had to say anyway. She was far more concerned with making sure Nesta was okay anyway.

Once Emerie found Nesta outside, she pulled out her phone without a word and called an Uber back to her place. They’d gotten ready together there, and Nesta had tentatively planned to sleep over anyway since she lived further out, and part of Emerie was hoping she would still stay despite the way the night had turned out. She didn’t want Nesta to go home and be alone no matter how familiar arguing with Cassian was, and the more selfish part of her wanted as much time with Nesta as she could steal.

Maybe it made her a bad person, but considering the way Cassian behaved, Emerie certainly knew she was at least better than him.

“That’s us,” Emerie said after a few minutes, pointing out their ride. She gently grabbed Nesta’s arm and steered her toward the blue sedan. “Come on.”

After she confirmed their destination with the driver, the silence of the car felt empty and stilted compared to the deafening music from inside the club. Emerie snuck looks over at Nesta as much as she could get away with, not wanting to be caught staring but simultaneously wanting to make sure her friend was okay. Nesta was staring out the window with her lips pressed together like she was trying not to cry, and Emerie would do anything to get that look off her face.

Nesta was far too proud to admit when she needed help, though, so Emerie would have to settle with the subtle method of handling Nesta that she’d developed over the years. When their Uber arrived outside Emerie’s building, she quickly shepherded Nesta upstairs and back into her apartment before Nesta could make any noise about going home.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Emerie asked immediately after she’d locked the door and taken off her shoes. “I don’t want to order takeout by myself.”

“Okay,” Nesta agreed quietly. She took off her heels and dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, not making eye contact with Emerie as she checked her phone. “Is it okay if I shower?”

“You know you don’t have to ask,” Emerie told her. She pretended not to notice how disappointed Nesta looked — Cassian probably hadn’t reached out, and even though Nesta said she hadn’t wanted him to, it still stung nonetheless — and instead opened up the UberEats app on her phone. “Chinese food okay? Or do you want something else?”

“Whatever you’re getting is fine,” Nesta muttered. She locked her phone and sighed heavily. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

Emerie sighed as she watched Nesta disappear in the guest bathroom, hoping that a warm shower and putting on pajamas would help her friend’s mood until the food would arrive. She quickly put in their usual order at the place that stayed open late on weekends before sending off a quick text to Gwyn letting her know what happened. She didn’t expect a response this late, so she locked her phone and headed toward her en suite so she could shower and change too.

By the time Emerie had showered and changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, her phone was vibrating to let her know the food had arrived. She yelled out a goodbye as she shoved her feet into her slippers and quickly went downstairs to grab everything, and by the time she made it back upstairs, Nesta was sitting on the couch in an oversized law school sweater and biker shorts.

“Thanks,” Nesta told Emerie quietly once they’d divided all the food. She’d turned on some Netflix just to have something on in the background while Emerie was downstairs, and the soft sounds of The Great British Bake-off filled the apartment as she cracked open the lid of her General Tso’s Chicken.

“Anytime,” Emerie replied just as softly, fiddling with the lid of her lo mein.

They ate their food in relative silence, the only sounds coming from the television and the occasional crinkle of a wrapper. They’d made through most of the episode they were watching when Nesta put down her food and paused the show with a heavy sigh. “This fucking sucks.”

“What?” Emerie asked, turning to look at Nesta. She put her egg rolls down and turned to give her friend the full attention she deserved, making sure to wipe any crumbs off her clothes. “What sucks?”

“Cassian,” Nesta replied. “I just — I don’t know. I don’t even know why I went out tonight, let alone dragged you with me.”

“We’re friends, Nesta,” Emerie answered evenly. “Gwyn would’ve been there too if she wasn’t out of town for her conference.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about making you two do that,” Nesta responded. “And it doesn’t help that this is what he does almost every fucking time.”

“Nesta, you’re not making anyone do anything,” Emerie countered. She hated the idea that Nesta thought she was somehow burdening them with this. “We’re friends, Nesta. It’s what we do. Don’t feel bad about that.”

“If I didn’t feel bad about making you watch that, what kind of friend would I be?” Nesta fired back with another heavy sigh. “It’s so fucking embarrassing. Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Aren’t you tired of that, Nesta?” Emerie asked quietly, not wanting to scare her off. She knew how prickly Nesta could be on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those, but Nesta had given her an opening and she wasn’t going to waste it. “Don’t you think you deserve better than this?”

Nesta just sighed heavily. “Who’s going to put up with all my shit, Em? My parental issues, the long hours at work, all my little quirks… I don’t exactly see people lining up for that.”

“First of all,” Emerie began, “no one should be ‘putting up’ with you. You have all this amazing stuff going for you, and anyone would be lucky to have you. Quirks and all.”

“Nobody wants me once they get to know me,” Nesta countered with a sad smile. “I’m just a pretty thing people like to look at, but the second I open my mouth? It’s game over.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Emerie retorted without hesitating. “And that has nothing to do with why you’re still with that dumbass.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be alone,” Nesta admitted quietly.

“Who says you have to be?” Emerie asked just as quietly. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached out to grab Nesta’s hand, her fingers slotting in easily alongside Nesta’s cooler ones.

“Thanks, Em, but there’s only so much friendship can do for me,” Nesta answered, her words going for teasing but falling flat considering how sad she still looked. She squeezed Emerie’s hand once before pulling away. “Even if it’s as amazing as yours has been.”

Emerie shifted closer so their knees were touching, moving the hand that Nesta had let go of to rest gently on Nesta’s lower thigh instead. “Who said I was talking about just friendship?”

“What?” Nesta responded, her lips parting in total surprise.

“I can’t keep watching you do this,” Emerie told her, terrified out of her mind but unwilling to stop now that she was on a roll. “He treats you like shit, and I just— I can’t do it, Nesta. Not when I know you deserve so much better, and definitely not when I know I could give that to you.”

At Nesta’s still-shocked expression and lack of response, Emerie was compelled to fill the stunned silence as the rest of her confession bubbled up and out of her. “You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous and you’re kind and you make everything better by just being here. How could I not feel like this about you? You’re the best person I know, Nesta. It’s not even close.”

Emerie petered off as she realized Nesta still hadn’t said anything. Was she staying quiet because she didn’t know what to say? Was she trying to figure out a way to let Emerie down easy? Or worse, was she about to tell Emerie never to talk to her again?

Fuck. This was easily one of the worst mistakes Emerie had ever made, and she had to fix it while she had the chance.

“I—” Emerie started, pulling her hands off Nesta like she’d been burned once she realized they were still touching. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that. We can just pretend it never happened, I promise I won’t be weird about it—”

“Emerie,” Nesta finally said. Emerie stopped her pathetic apology and closed her mouth so fast that her teeth practically clacked together, desperately afraid to hear what her friend would say next. “Shut up.”

The next thing Emerie knew, Nesta was grabbing her shirt and pulling her in for a kiss. Emerie’s mind went totally blank at the soft press of Nesta’s lips to her own, and Emerie gasped into Nesta’s mouth at the realization that Nesta Archeron was kissing her.

Emerie’s brain thankfully didn’t let her sit there in shock for too long, coming just online enough to lean forward and kiss Nesta back. It was a little hesitant, almost like neither of them could fully believe this was happening, but Nesta’s lips were warm and she tasted like the spring roll she’d just finished eating.

It was the best moment of Emerie’s life, and then she was pulling back to stare at Nesta with wide eyes. Part of her couldn’t believe that had just happened, but a much larger part of her was expecting Nesta to let her down easy despite having been the one to lean in first. “Nesta…”

“Shut up,” Nesta said before Emerie could pull a coherent string of words together. “Just— stop talking.”

Nesta’s fist tightened on Emerie’s shirt again, but this time she was the one to come closer. Her knuckles dug into Emerie’s chest as she pushed back, Emerie going willingly so Nesta could straddle her. Every thought in Emerie’s mind emptied out once Nesta’s long legs were pinning her in place, her biker shorts riding up to reveal even more of her thigh, and Emerie practically short-circuited at the feeling of all that smooth skin underneath her hands. She’d imagined this so many times, but absolutely nothing compared to the real thing.

Nesta leaned down to kiss her again and Emerie eagerly responded. A large part of Emerie still couldn’t believe this was happening, but she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity now that she finally had the woman of her dreams under her hands. Nesta was making the sweetest little sounds as they traded open-mouthed kisses, and Emerie wanted to burn them into her mind forever.

One of Nesta’s hands was on Emerie’s shoulder for balance, but the other had snuck its way under the hem of Emerie’s t-shirt to rub teasing circles into the skin there. In retaliation, Emerie brought one of her hands up from Nesta’s thigh to cup her ass instead, squeezing the toned muscle firmly. Nesta moaned right into Emerie’s mouth and rocked her hips back into Emerie’s hand, turning the heat pooling between Emerie’s legs molten.

Fuck, this was moving quickly. Emerie wanted to unwrap Nesta like the gift that she was and learn every trick that made her scream, but the more logical part of her knew she needed to check in before that happened.

“Wait,” Emerie said, panting as she broke their kiss. She hated to stop, but she had to make sure this was what Nesta really wanted. She didn’t think she could live with herself if she made Nesta even more upset in the long run, nor did she know how she’d survive knowing Nesta only wanted her for one night. “Nesta, Nesta, wait.”

Nesta immediately pulled away, looking at Emerie with concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” Emerie trailed off before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to get through this. “I don’t want to do this if you’re just gonna regret it and call Cassian in the morning.”

“Oh, Em,” Nesta breathed, reaching out to cup Emerie’s face and stroke her thumb across Emerie’s cheek. “How could I ever regret this? You’re the only one that I want.”

“Really?” Emerie asked. Between Nesta looking like a dream above her and the weight of the conversation they were having, Emerie’s heart was beating embarrassingly fast. She hoped Nesta couldn’t feel it.

“Yeah.” Nesta’s expression turned a little sheepish. “I feel kind of stupid not realizing before. Cassian would always complain about how much we hung out or how much I talked about you… I thought he was just being a controlling dick, but maybe he was right.”

“He is a controlling dick,” Emerie said, pulling a snort from Nesta, “but maybe he had a point.”

“A broken clock is right twice a day,” Nesta said back, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t want to waste any more time talking about him. He and I are done for good, Em. I just want you.”

Nesta leaned in to punctuate her declaration with a soft kiss, and Emerie felt like she could level mountains. That could wait, though.

For now, she’d just settle for making Nesta happy.

#acotar #acosf #nemerie #nesta archeron #emerie of illyria #nesta x emerie #cassian #moodymelanistwrites

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