#i dunno i just had a shitty day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneforthemunny · 19 days

Text

surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?”

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?”

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?”

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight.

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?”

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday.

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.”

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone.

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-”

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.”

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged.

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake?

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe.

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added.

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday.

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends.

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily.

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully.

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.”

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.”

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled.

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.”

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-”

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-”

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped.

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you.

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest.

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart.

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate.

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day.

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open.

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room.

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room.

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air.

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?”

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-”

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught.

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise.

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-”

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?”

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it.

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him.

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters.

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade.

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged.

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.”

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…”

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked.

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?”

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.”

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway.

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours.

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.”

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart.

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-”

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat.

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking.

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes.

Eddie paused. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered.

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.”

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?”

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him.

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.”

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.”

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions.

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.”

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.”

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head.

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully.

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own.

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout.

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.”

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat.

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out.

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?”

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you.

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning.

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever.

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life.

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it.

976 notes · View notes

binary5tar · 2 years

Text

It's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep... deleting in the morning...

#partially its cuz my 2yo is a bed hog so im perched on the edge of the bed and its killing my back #but its also cuz a former friend finally got around to blocking me #...which admitedly i only know cuz i would check their blog every few days/weeks #i dont really know why i did? it always made me feel like a creep and like i was poking a bruise or something #but maybe thats why..? i dunno... its giving me feeeeeeeling #and making me thinking about the last few weeks before we stopped talking #i have so many different versions of what happened in my head and i dont really know the truth...#with this sort of stuff is there even a truth?#it is true that im the one that stopped talking in the end but its also true that they had stopped responding mostly before that #so who really ended it?#i think about how i interpreted some thing and whether they were inteded that way...#and i think about stuff that i said and how it could have been interpreted...#i want someone/something to blame... so i end try to blame myself...#im certainly not blameless... I'm not good i think at not yucking someone else yum #its a shitty thing to do but i struggle to just sftu... i should probably work on that #and its part of the reason we had less to talk about #but at the same time it felt like i was clinging to hard and trying to desperately to save something that was important to me #but didn't carry the same weight to the other person...#and maybe its cuz i was a shitty toxic friend... my self loathing which has been in high gear recently says thats probably the truth #but the reasonable side of me says thats one area of being shitty no ones perfect and i wasnt as horrible in everything else...#i dunno this is getting really pitty party ish and they say not to believe anything your brain tells you in the middle of the night #its just... some times i want the truth... sometimes im scared of the truth... but lost of the time im not sure there is a truth #i dont think trying to talk about it with the person would go over well for either of us...#i feel like it would devolve into you should/could have type stuff and at this point it doesn't matter #i dont wanna be the crab dragging someone back into the mess #and i dont think im ready to hear yet that it actually was cuz im just a shitty friend

1 note · View note

elexaria · 2 months

Note

Oh no 😅 what’s Simon gonna do once he realizes he cares about the reader and craves non-sexual intimacy with them, too? Is he still gonna be mean, are they all gonna have a talk, will he change his behavior? Will he grow to love reader?? I’m obsessed with your poly!ghoap!!! 💕I also love the other one with reader and Gaz, too. Great job!!

simon’s been distant since he realised that he’s jealous of the affection you give johnny. he can’t say he doesn’t understand why you keep your distance from simon, especially seeing as the last few times he’s had you pinned up against the fridge with a snarl.

it’s actually kind of terrifying that simon’s hopped off your back a bit, not acting all threatening when you two cross paths in the apartment like he normally would. holding doors open for you, he even woke you up when you had accidentally slept through your alarm??

johnny’s in the shower one evening, his screechy voice belting out rock tunes. you’re in the kitchenette, making yourself lunch for the next day, occasionally stealing glances from simon, who’s sat on the sofa watching a shitty soap opera. whilst also listening to a Soap Opera.

you bite the inside of your lip nervously, trying to think of idle conversation. “so… i know you and johnny have a work event tomorrow. do you want .. me to make you two lunch?” you squeak out, a chill running down your spine as his head whips around and he stares right at you. with one powerful lunge, he’s up off the sofa and striding towards the kitchen island, large hands reaching out to grab a knife.

fuck, this is how it ends. you’re gonna get stabbed to death by your lunatic roomie and johnny’s too busy singing in the shower to hear you. fuck—

“pass us the cheese.”

you furrow your eyebrows, looking up at simon. his facial expression is blank, piercing blue eyes just staring right at you. he grunts, extending his hand and curling his fingers up, motioning for you to pass him the block of cheese.

“i said pass us the cheese then. i wanna help.”

when johnny finally steps out the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, he swaggers into the kitchenette with a comfortable stride. his thick eyebrows raised curiously at the sight of simon prepping sandwiches. except, there’s a fuck tonne of sandwiches on the island. he looks at you with a confused expression, which makes you giggle. “simon’s helping me make lunch for tomorrow.” you say gently, looking up at simon with a small smile.

simon’s lips twitch up ever so slightly, something he’s never done around you before. he clears his throat as he grabs some tupperware containers, shrugging as he begins to store the excess sandwiches. “dunno… might have gotten carried away. reckon we’ll all be eating sandwiches for dinner for a couple’a days.” he murmurs, smirking up at you when you laugh at his comment.

it’s a start, and you and simon are both content with that.

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #poly!ghoap x reader #poly!ghoap

366 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

Text

sir, this is a wendy's

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'modern au' rated t wc: 765 tags: established relationship, proposal, kinda silly

-----------------------------------------------

"They're out of the cookies, sweetheart," Eddie turned to Steve as he came back from the restroom of the Wendy's.

They were still nearly six hours from home and exhausted, a little bit grumpy if Steve's silence for the last hour was anything to go by.

"I'll have a Frosty then."

"Machine's down."

Steve blinked at him before sighing.

"I guess nothing then, right? Just the burger and fries."

Eddie sighed, too.

The visit with Robin hadn't gone...well. She'd told them she was taking a year to study abroad and part of the program meant she could only come home for one week during their summer break. Steve wasn't taking it well that she'd go from being an eight hour drive away to an eight hour flight away.

He was being patient.

He knew Steve hated change like this, and he'd only been sitting with it for about 12 hours.

Eddie turned back to the cashier with a smile.

"Two number two's, one with no onions and one with no tomatoes please."

Steve was standing next to him, staring down at his phone. When Eddie looked over, he had a tab open showing the program details of Robin's study abroad track.

While they waited for their food, Eddie watched Steve biting his lip, then his thumbnail, and then his lip again.

"Stevie, what's goin' on in your head?" Eddie finally asked.

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at the floor.

"Nothin'."

"It's clearly somethin'. You worried about Robin?"

"Obviously," Steve huffed.

"Love, she's-"

"Steve Munson!"

Both of them whipped their heads back to the counter, where a woman was pushing a tray of food towards them.

Steve's wide eyes looked back at Eddie, cheeks a bright red.

Eddie walked up to grab their food, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually being Steve Munson.

It's not that he hadn't thought about it before; He had thought about it most days for the last year.

There was a ring in his drawer at their apartment to prove it.

"Table?" Eddie choked out, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

They were quiet as they sat down, taking their food off the tray and looking at it. Not eating, not even touching it anymore, just looking.

"Um."

"So."

They looked at each other, then back down at their food.

"Steve Munson sounds kinda nice," Eddie said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Steve was picking at the wrapper around his burger now.

"I mean, I've thought so for a while."

"You have?"

Eddie was really about to propose in this Wendy's.

Without a ring or a real speech.

Just himself and a few old people in the corner eating chili.

"I'm gonna do this for real somewhere that isn't a Wendy's on an exit in some shitty town that has two gas stations and a Wal-Mart, but for now." He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take Steve's hand. "I dunno why they called that name, but maybe it's a sign. I love you. I know right now you're having a lot of thoughts, and you don't have to answer me. I'm not even on one knee, but really this is a Wendy's and my knee's been hurting for the entire ride. I love you. I said that already."

Steve giggled and Eddie couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I love you. I'll say it as much as you want, as long as it makes that smile happen. I'll say it when you're sad and grumpy, when you're happy and silly, when you're tired, when you're hyper. If it's okay with you, I'll scream it right here."

"In the Wendy's?"

"Yes, in the Wendy's."

Steve just nodded.

"Attention everyone! This man right here? I love him!" Eddie was saying loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around them. "And I'm asking him right now, to be my husband!"

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," an old lady sitting in the booth across from them said.

Eddie and Steve immediately started laughing.

"Well, is he sayin' yes so you'll shut up or what?" An old man said from the other end of the lobby.

Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll marry you," Steve said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A couple people clapped, but for the most part, everyone went back to ignoring them.

Eddie kissed Steve softly, chastely.

"Was this a distraction from the Robin thing?" Steve asked.

"Not intentionally. Worked though."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"You better make the real proposal a spectacle."

"Anything for you, my love."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #modern au

760 notes · View notes

hotluncheddie · 6 months

Text

high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable.

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright.

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud.

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her.

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain.

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay.

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally.

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this.

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect.

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much.

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is.

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home.

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time.

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone.

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie.

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees.

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind.

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch.

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out.

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful.

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect.

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out.

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan.

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan.

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt.

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat.

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through.

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground.

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing.

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire.

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day.

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now.

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm.

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly.

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers.

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t.

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back.

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

#hope this is okay #i know the comfort isn't like loads but #unmasking is fucking hard #and hes simply doing his best #autistic steve harrington #steddie #platonic stobin #hotlunch #my fic #steve harrington needs a hug #but he gets one so its okay #feel nervous about posting this but let’s fucking go my dudes #pls let me know if u like it 👉👈

589 notes · View notes

catfern · 6 months

Text

1 MILLION SUBSCRIBERS SPECIAL

pairing: ghost hunter!ellie x afab!reader (feminine pronouns used)

music: eyes without a face - billy idol

word count: 2.3k

summary: ghost hunter!ellie needs a new assistant to help film her 1 million subscribers special in a supposedly 'haunted house'. good thing you'll do anything she says.

warnings: SEXTAPE, oral (r!receiving) fingering (r!receiving), ghosts? spooky business, ellie is a shitty clickbait youtuber

an: heyyy this came to me in a dream. nothing much else to say. get ready to fuck dirty while ghosts watch idk. this is probably gonna be my only halloween fic while we're still in october. got some other ideas tho so get ready for a spooky november

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“come on! come on! it’ll be fun! something memorable on halloween.”

“jesus, ellie, you know I don’t believe in that shit.”

it’s a coy laugh. your fingers dance over your phone, unsure what to do. you didn’t believe her when she jumped and screamed, bolstering about her 1 millionth subscriber.

‘The Ghost Detective.’ her youtube profile was almost as shoddy as her Mr. Beast-esque clickbait video titles.

“then it doesn’t matter!” she had a hold on your forearm, intermittent squeezing begging you to fold, “please? the last girl I had thought her dead mom was talking to her and ran off.”

she had an almost pitiful look in her eyes, her eyebrows screwed together as she pleaded.

fucking hell. you were convinced if you hadn’t met ellie, hadn’t started falling behind her like an obedient dog, you’d actually submit most of your assignments on time.

“fine.”

it wasn’t that your tiny town was particularly superstitious, or religious, or any other ‘-itious’, but it was in unspoken agreement that there was something inexplicable here, on the hill that looked over the lights of the suburbs. a decaying prairie protrusion built god-knows-when, the moon shone high in its fullness through the rotting foundations, casting its shadows over the dead grass, falling at your feet with the cool of the wind.

the whisper in her voice ran up your spine, “gettin’ scared yet?”

ellie seemed all too giddy to be here, a wicked smile and a laugh in her throat. her hair was pulled back from her face, and you could lightly see the ghost of freckles across her cheek in the night.

“what? no, no. i’m just tired.”

“right,” she was poking fun, the words dripping from her lips like electricity. she dumped her arms-full of equipment in your arms with a huff, before digging around in her backpack. “here,” cold metal in your hand as she took back her stuff. redbull, “we’re gonna be here all night.”

you don’t know how she did it. even as a certified non-believer, the engulfing emptiness of the house, the darkness that settled in the cracks and corners caught up with you, something unsettling pricking the hairs on the back of your neck.

but here she was. she brought a lawn chair from home, said it was her dad’s. equipped with the built-in beer holder and everything, she was relaxed. her elbows settled on her knees, her hands fallen limp in the space between her legs. she had something in her eyes, a glint. something determined, charming as she stared you down. well, the camera.

but you were staring at her right back. memorising what little detail echoed through the lens of the shitty 2008 sony camcorder.

she said it was for the ‘found footage look’. you know it’s just because she’s broke.

“now, legend has it, ladies and gentlemen, that the last owners of this iconic hillside property were satan .. worshippers. and that this house, this very house that i’m sitting in right now, is actually an active portal. to. hell.”

you’ve gotta give it to her. she had a talent for drama.

“i’ll just point to you when i need you to do like, i dunno, a little camera pan or something, yeah?”

ellie was explaining it to you like you hadn’t just been at home binge-watching her channel for the past few days, meticulous research, you called it. to make sure you did a good job as her assistant. not like the blur of her messy hair and her face in the ghoulish green light of the night vision camera did anything to you.

you knew her video structure. front room first, then five minutes in a spooky hallway, then some time left to freak out in one of the bedrooms, find an old haunted toy that definitely wasn’t planted, and then a quick exit with a lot of swearing, screaming and camera shaking.

“right, you ready?”

you nod.

the front room was, unsurprisingly, boring, although ellie put on her best shiver-me-timbers face, as she calls it. something for the fans.

but when you got back into the hallway, something in the air had changed. you looked to ellie, and you couldn’t tell if what she felt was real, or fake. she just kept looking at you through the camera, the same dramatised ‘concern’ written all over her face.

everything ellie does is scripted. fake.

if there was something wrong, truly wrong, here, you would leave, right?

the feeling was violently oppressive, pushing down on you. run, run, run. a gush of something ran across the back of your neck.

“fuck! what was that? did you feel that?”

“hey, hey,” the sudden normalness of her voice felt misplaced, “just keep the camera on me, okay? eyes on me.”

you could barely see her fucking eyes. the imposing and suffocating darkness of the house seemed to wrap around you horribly tight, the only thing keeping you tethered to your sense of sanity was the sound of ellie’s breath, so close you could feel it wisp around your cheekbone, warm and inviting. the only comfort fighting the cold in the air.

slowly, your sight adjusts to the dark, and you could barely make out the outline of her face in the dim light of the moon. she was watching you, her eyes lidded, flickering over the shadow of your body. your own breath was quick, adrenaline laced, something sore and deep. you feel a slight graze against your arm and you jump, ellie catching your shoulders in her arms, pushing you upright,

“careful, it’s just me,”

there’s a closeness now, a beat. her grip is strong as it soothes the shaking, the fear, the absolute buzz that you’re convinced is the only thing keeping you alive. you quickly become obsessed with the design of her, you’ve never been this close. suddenly, you recognise the way her hair falls on her face, the look in her eyes, the shine as she looks at you. she clears her throat, and her hands drop, coarsely, from your shoulders,

“come on, you’re alright. let’s keep going.”

yeah, yeah. you fumble your hand back through the strap of the camera, a slight twitch in your hand as you press record,

“fucking hell,” her voice was raspy, deep, a soft but commanding whisper, “the spirits sure are stirred up here… i wonder what happened.”

stay close to me. it’s barely a breath, something not meant to be heard, but her voice is luring, and you nod.

your footsteps were a heavy echo against the aging wood floor, the creaks spreading through the house like a warning. to you, or to others, you don’t know.

the bedroom wasn’t far. you had to hike up a flight of decaying steps, but as ellie talked to the camera, she held a hand firm on your back. she wouldn’t let you fall.

the room obviously belonged to some kids, however long ago. abandoned toys and rotted posters littered the floor, and it almost felt painful to see the life that was once in this house. but why did they leave everything here? kids drawings, toys, a closet full of half-eaten, moth-ridden clothes.

what made them just get up and leave?

wind rattled against the window, it felt like it was rocking the house. something was uneasy here, unnerving. you tried to focus your thoughts on ellie, her dramatic storytelling and perfectly practiced ‘scared’ body language, but there was something here. and it was watching.

one final gust of wind surged against the rocky foundations of the house, and the closet doors flung open, an old wooden puppet flying out to your feet.

you were never a screamer, never. which is why, when you heard a blood-curdling shriek rush through the house, it felt like an out of body experience. something foreign. you fell back and tripped over your own feet, desperate to put as much distance between you and whatever was in this house as possible.

luckily, ellie’s fear is fabricated. she’s quick to respond, stepping in to steady you with kind hands and a charming smile. your heart rate was so intense, it rocked the both of you, chest to back, intertwined something fierce. your breath settles against her chest, and you meet her eye,

“thought you didn’t get scared,” she was being a tease. her hands ghosting over your body gently, carefully, thinly veiled under the guise of simply holding you, caring for you, she was keeping you safe. it was a little self-indulgent.

“i’m not,” you steel yourself, stubborn girl, although a soft laugh bubbles in your throat. there’s something unreal about the steady feeling of ellie’s hands, the roughness of her palms pushing through your clothing. you turn, and she’s smiling, the glint of her teeth in the soft light, mischief an echo on her face. her voice was low as she leaned in, tickles of her hair just brushing the apple of your cheekbone,

“really, baby? i don’t think you would even still be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“you think i’m here for you?” she’s so close you can feel your breath swirl with hers, heat brushing down your jaw and dripping onto your neck. her grip on your waist anchors, and you feel her settle in the crooks of your body, the corners of your skin, like she’s home. she’s looking at you, something jokingly fierce, but unsure, and her gaze falls on your lips,

“mhm,”

you’d think she’d been starved. restless, choked breaths fall between you in gaps as she pulls you in, heavy, her lips on yours in fervour. her hands are everywhere, tracing themselves in your hair, down your neck, feeling their way blindly along the softness of your skin. god.

her lips draw from yours, dragging a mix of spit and lip gloss down your chin, along the ridge of your neck, a trail glistening in the edging darkness.

“fuck, ellie.”

you barely register the weight lifting from your hand, only a visceral whine as she pulls from you, walking a safe distance to gently place the camera down, out of the way.

ellie finds herself back in the crook of her neck, dragging your skin through her teeth, soft groans rumbling from her throat as her hands pull their way down to the waistband of your skirt,

a skirt? really?

had you planned this?

“come on, sweetheart,” she’s barely audible against your skin, vibrations dripping down your torso as her hands dive under your shirt, lifting it to bounce above your tits, “that’s it.”

her palm cups the base of your tit, dragging soft moans from your pretty lips as she squeezes.

under her breath, she’s praying. vulgar, tenacious, she can’t control herself, lost in the dream of your body as she presses you against a wall she hopes won’t collapse.

fuck-god, fuck, jesus, baby.

if you’re who she’s praying to, it falls on deaf ears. you’re no god, you can’t help her, but fuck, she feels like she could worship you. properly, forever, falling to her knees and cupping her palms behind your thighs, it’s like she’s pleading,

“can i?” she’s soft, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, you’re her altar, “god, say yes.”

her nose just graces the wetness of your underwear and you flinch, “yes! ellie, f-fuck-please.”

she loops her pointer fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs, almost too rough. she loses herself in the heat, the slick dripping from your pussy.

heat poured over your body like molten gold, the feeling of her tongue inside you, raw, animalistic, sending pulses sliding up the ridges of your skin. she hums against your clit, her hand coming down to pull your velvet slick from the rim of her lips.

you convulse, clenching around the encroaching absence of a feeling, of something you didn’t know you needed.

her.

“fucking hell, sweet girl,” deep, ragged breaths shadow your thighs. she needs air, but its not like she wants it. fuck, she wants you, she needs you. your taste on her tongue is metallic, a memory she’s chasing like a quick withdrawal. her tongue finds your clit and presses, a murmur leaving her drowning lips and echoing through your veins as you moan, desperation clawing through your hands and in ellie’s hair, binding.

“please, el-f-shit, i need you. i need to feel you, fuck!”

you didn’t need to ask twice.

fuck, you wrapped around her like you were made for her, godsent, a gift for her devotion. she stretched you, opening you with her fingers and you nearly melted, ellie’s arm wrapped around your thigh the only stability offered for your spent body. your head threw back, digging into the old, rotting wood of the wall, and if ellie looked up, pulled away from her firm spot between your legs, she would have seen you and completely unravelled.

she wasn’t gentle, the way her fingers moved inside you. desperate and completely unforgiving, she needed everything that you were willing to give her, her pace rough, fast, world-destroying.

and there she was, a lazy grin bearing her teeth against your clit, pussydrunk and delirious, tasting you and content enough to die.

she supposed she wouldn’t mind haunting this house, if you came to visit her.

low warbles against your cunt, you couldn’t hear her, even if you were listening. drowning in the push and pull of her touch, in the warmth of her, your head felt like molasses, your body something soft, mouldable to her design. ellie laughed against your walls, sweet and desiring, and you collapsed.

your vision bleary, you could just feel the tips of ellie’s fingers brushing through your hair, smoothing your slick across your skin. your head fell against hers, and you could just make out something blinking in the foggy distance,

the camera,

“hey, el,”

she sighed, heat in the crook of your neck, “yeah?”

“does the red light mean it’s on?”

A few days later, the thoughts of ghosthunting weighing heavy on your mind, ellie texts you,

thought you might want a copy <3

my subscribers will love you

attachment: hauntedhouse.mov

taglist; @whore4abby

dm me to join my sad lil list <3

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

952 notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 7 months

Text

sometimes all you need is cuddles. and a nap. not specifically in that order.

(this made me melt. I might need cuddles now as well. *sighs deeply* these modern!batboys drabbles really scratch an itch in my brain.)

Letting the door fall shut behind me, I felt something warm shift under my ribs at the soft sound of the piano floating into the hall, chasing away some of the heavyness that had settled on my chest.

Slowly kicking off my shoes, I started shuffling towards the door to my room as the sound of the piano stopped, and a few seconds later, Rhys appeared in the door to the living room. He looked a little tired, his hair more tousled than usual, a strand sticking out at the side that made me want to reach out and smooth it down, but there was a trace of the usual twinkle in his nearly violet eyes.

"Hello." Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, Rhys sent me a light grin, a soft dimple forming in his cheek when he raised an eyebrow. "Respectfully, love, you look like shit."

I blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then I furrowed my brows in confusion. "What about that was respectful?"

Rhys grinned, and I huffed and breathed out, my bottom lip jutting out in a pout as I blinked tiredly and mumbled: "I need cuddles." I crunched my brows a little. "And a nap."

Rhys' lips curved. "That order a necessity or -"

"Nope." I shook my head, and breathing a soft chuckle, Rhys pushed off the doorframe, his eyes twinkling a little.

"Nap?"

Breathing out and turning around, I mumbled: "Let me get these clothes off."

"Not that kinda nap, darling."

"Oh, piss off."

I heard Rhys chuckle behind me and felt my lips curve into a soft grin, then I pushed open the door to my room.

Two minutes later, I trudged through Rhys' door, the scent of something warm and citrusy hitting me as I pulled the sleeve of my oversized sweatshirt over my hands. Rhys was already stretched out on his huge mattress, his eyes closed, and I just unceremoniously flopped down next to him, shuffling around to curl into his side and dropping my head onto his chest.

Rhys shifted in the spot, his arm wrapping over my shoulder and squeezing, and I tiredly poked his side.

"Why were you playing?"

I felt Rhys' chest rise and fall with a sigh, and when I peaked up at him, there was a soft crunch to his brows, his deep voice quiet when he mumbled: "Just needed a break."

Something tightened gently in my chest, and humming, I buried my nose in his hoodie again, my eyes slowly closing a little as I felt Rhys shift, patting my head a little.

"Why were you looking like you got rained on by a big cloud?"

This time, I was the one to sigh.

"Dunno." Feeling the gentle weight on my chest, I shrugged. "Jus' one of those days." I snuggled closer into his side, and Rhys gave a soft sound of acknowledgement.

Breathing out, I reached up and uncoordinatedly patted my hand over his face until he chuckled.

"'m sorry you´re feeling shitty,", I mumbled.

Rhys sighed, but I felt the crease in his cheek against my palm. "I'm sorry you look shitty."

I crunched my brows and tried to flick his forehead. I hit his nose instead, and a giggle broke from my lips when Rhys winced, grumbling under his breath.

"Sorry." I grinned into his hoodie, and Rhys huffed, pulling my hand away from his face, but I heard the way his lips curved when he mumbled: "Love you."

I smiled. "Love you too, Rhysie."

Rhys flicked my ear, and I giggled before breathing out. Curling into his side, I closed my heavy eyes, feeling myself slowly drift away to the rhythmic rise and fall of Rhys' chest.

Tiredly shifting in the spot, I buried my nose in the pillow I was clinging to as the haziness of sleep slowly pulled away. The sheets smelled dark and warm and citrusy and definitely not like my own.

"Hey."

The soft, low voice, just vibrating the tiniest bit with the trace of amusement made something skip gently against my ribs, then a warm hand wrapped around my ankle, squeezing gently, and furrowing my brows, I squinted, raising my head as I blinked disorientedly.

My eyes flickered over the room that was not my own, and the gentle weight on my chest shifted a little, reminding me where I was and why - until my gaze landed on the person sitting on the edge of Rhys' huge mattress, tall frame turned towards me, amber eyes warm in the half light and flickering over my face.

Grumbling softly, I dropped my head back onto the pillow someone seemed to have gently maneuvered into my arms. For a moment, I felt the warmth and haziness of sleep slowly pull away, then I laboriously sat up, rubbing a hand over my eyes. Pushing a strand of hair out of my face, I raised my head, and something skipped gently against my ribs when I blinked at Azriel, sending him a crooked, tired smile.

"Hi."

Azriel's lips curved the tiniest bit, but there was a soft crease between his brows as his gaze flickered over my face, and something rose in my chest at the silent question in his eyes.

"Just one of those days,", I mumbled, my voice still a little hoarse from sleep as I felt my lips rise, and Azriel blinked, the crunch of his brows smoothing a little.

"You okay?"

His deep, low voice sent tingling shivers through my body, warm and steady and slow, and I felt my lips rise just a little more, the small weight on my chest pulsing a little.

"Yep." I blinked and furrowed my brows, feeling my lips purse in a pout as I rubbed my eyes. "I think I might've overdone it with the nap though." I crunched my brows. "I feel like I need another one."

Azriel huffed, but there was a soft twinkle in his eyes as they moved over my face. "Anything else?"

I breathed out. "Cuddles. I need cuddles."

For a moment, Az stared at me. Then he leaned forward, and my heart got stuck in my throat when his hand slipped into between my legs, closing around the inside of my thigh and dragging me over the mattress. My breath hitched as something in my chest dipped and fell, then Azriel dipped down and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his lap, and when my eyes met his, wide and frozen, one corner of his lips just quirked gently. This close, I could see the golden specks in his eyes, and the curve of his lashes, and the sharpness of his cheekbones over the trace of a crease right next to his lips.

"Okay." His voice vibrated through me, warm and steady and amused, and I blinked, feeling something flutter against my ribs.

Azriel huffed softly, then his hand slipped up my back, gently pulling me forward and tucking me into his chest. His arms came around me, wrapping me up in a warm hug as he propped his chin onto my head; something rose under my ribs, and without being able to help it, without wanting to, I slowly melted into him.

I didn't know how long I was curled up in Azriel's arms, but it was long enough for his scent to fill my lungs and for me to completely bury myself in his chest. His thumb was brushing over my shoulder, and his grip was shifting between gentle and relaxed to squeezing gently.

Finally, I straightened slowly, pulling back, my fingers slipping from where they had curled into his sweatshirt, and when I raised my head, my breath got stuck somewhere in my lungs.

Azriel's nose was just an inch away, the golden flecks in his eyes dancing softly as they slowly moved over mine, deep and twinkling just the tiniest bit.

Swallowing, I pulled back my head a little and felt my cheeks flush softly, and Azriel's arms slipped from my shoulders as one corner of his lips curved.

There was a deep, muffled call of Azriel's name from outside, and Az rolled his eyes, but it broke the way his gaze seemed to have bound mine.

I blinked, then I huffed and slid off his lap, and Azriel pushed himself to his feet as I clambered off the mattress. Stretching, I shook myself off a bit, blinking and crunching my brows, and Azriel's lips curved. Then his chest bumped into my back, and something tipped over under my ribs when his hands closed over my shoulders and he gently started to push myself towards the door.

In the hall, I could already hear Cassian and Rhys bicker. Az gently nudged me into the kitchen, and I felt my lips curve at the sight of Cassian trying to sneak his spoon into the big pot on the stove and Rhys fending him off with a spatula.

"Fucking hell,", Azriel mumbled drily somewhere above me, and I felt a soft giggle build in my throat.

"Hey..." Cassian tossed his spoon into the sink and opened his arms, and I flopped into his chest readily, burying my nose in his t-shirt as Cass wrapped me up in a warm, tight hug. I could feel him drop his head to lean his chin onto my head, swaying me gently from side to side as he mumbled: "You okay, sweets?"

I smiled into his chest. "'m better."

"Yeah?" Cassian pulled back his head, and when I tipped mine back to look up at him, his huge hands came up to frame my face. Scrunching his brows a little as he considered me, one corner of his lips quirked.

"Rhys is right, you do look a little like shit."

I glowered at him, and Cassian broke into a wide grin, the scar on the side of his face shifting as he squished my cheeks between his palms until I crunched my brows. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss onto my forehead, followed by another, and another, until I couldn't hold back the giggle that built in my throat.

Squeezing my face, Cassian sent me a grin, then he wrapped me up in his arms again, swaying us in a circle until something was rising warmly in my chest.

When he finally let me go, it was with a wink and a gentle flick to my forehead. Flipping him off, I turned, patting Rhys' arm in passing and earning myself another light wink, then I climbed onto the couch at the dining table, plopping down and curling up in the corner with a sigh. Snuggling into my sweatshirt, I watched Rhys and Cassian pick up their bickering, Rhys defending the big pot with his spatula like a sword, and I felt my lips slowly curve upwards.

The cushions dipped, and Azriel plopped down on the other end of the couch, stretching out his long legs as he draped an arm over the backrest. Something began to flutter against my ribs at the way his eyes twinkled in the warm kitchen light, and there was a soft gentle pull in my chest when the corners of his lips curved in amusement.

Breathing out, I turned my eyes back ahead, feeling a gentle thrum in my chest.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate123 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds

438 notes · View notes

am3ricanh0rrorwh0re · 1 month

Text

To Hell and Back ☆

tate langdon x fem!reader

summary: Tate, your obsessive boyfriend, traps you in the Murder House on Halloween

warnings: nsfw, bondage, gagging, asphyxiation, pills, death, manipulation

a/n: hello, hola, bonjour, marhaban !! this ‘oneshot’ will probably be longer than any other one i’ve written since there’s a lot that goes into it. I know Tate is a crowd favorite (and one of my favorites), so i wanted to make this as descriptive as possible! love you, love you, love you, and i hope you enjoy this oneshot <3

Spirits were real. You knew it for sure. Especially because your obsessive, clingy boyfriend was one. Tate Langdon. He’d been your friend since you moved to the infamous Murder House. You’d never see him leave the house, or come in. One day you had enough and confronted him. Tate hesitantly admitted he wasn’t alive, but you didn’t believe him. That was, until you saw how he died, and the events leading up to his passing…You knew Tate was dangerous, a man that could strike at any moment in time. He could kill you. But that’s what you were drawn to, right?

”Alright honey, we’re leaving. Don’t answer the door,” Your mom chuckled, clinging to your dad as they were both ready to head out to a halloween party.

“Joyce, don’t tell her that. It’s Halloween,” Your dad retorted to your mom. Your mother scoffed, ultimately starting a small debate with your father on the crime rate of LA, especially on Halloween. You crossed your arms, staring up the staircase of the house. A figure swooped by quickly, running across the hallway of the house. You stumbled back subtly, swearing on your life you just saw something move. You parents ignored you, of course. They didn’t much care for the paranormal bullshit rambles of their daughter.

Your parents finally headed out the door. ‘Finally. Some alone time without the constant bickering.’ you thought to yourself. You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, eyeing your walls with great care, wondering what you could do to spice up your boring-ass, half unpacked bedroom.

You felt a presence behind you. Something dark. Something malevolent. A black, latex hand grabbed your waist, the second hand going over your mouth. ‘oh shit. this is how it ends.’ you panicked. The figure pushed you against the wall, keeping its hand clasped over your mouth. It’s free hand pinned your wrists above your head. The figure was complete black latex from head to toe. You whimper into its hand, turning your head as you prepared for the kiss of death. It took its hands off of you and took off the black hood. It was Tate, your boyfriend.

“Hey, Y/n,” He smiled, grabbing your face as he pulled you into a kiss. The moment you saw him, your panic subsided. It was a shitty prank, sure, but it was just Tate. No extreme reason to worry.

“Tate,” You groan with a chuckle after pulling away from the kiss You noticed he was wearing a backpack for some reason. Maybe it had candy? “Why’re you wearing that shit?”

That ‘shit’ that Tate was wearing was an old sex suit that you found when your family first moved into the Murder House. It was sitting in the attic, along with a few other kinky things. Tate was currently rocking it, his toned figure showing out against the tight latex. You leaned into him as he kissed the side of your face.

“I dunno. Thought it was funny,” Tate smirked, ruffling your hair playfully. He pulled you into a hug, and you leaned into it. Tate’s hands made their way down your figure, grazing your back. His hands cupped your ass and squeezed a little, making you squeak softly.

You pushed him back with a smile, grabbing your flip phone. “I gotta head out, my friends invited me,” You smile, dodging past him slightly. Tate grabbed your wrist, a hurt look in his dark eyes.

“Woah, what? I thought we were gonna spend Halloween together..?” Tate asked, cocking his head with a feigned look of confusion on his face. There he goes again, manipulating you. You never once planned to spend Halloween with him. For months, you and your friends have planned on hanging out, and now Tate was manipulating you again.

“When did we agree to that?” You chuckle, slightly confused.

“Last week,” He lied, grabbing both your wrists and pulling you closer. “Don’t you remember, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Tate grabbed your shoulders, pushing you backwards into your room. He forced you down to your bed, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.

“C’mon, Tate,” You say nervously, looking up at him with furrowed brows. Tate straddled you, keeping your wrists pinned down.

“Y/n, you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna spend Halloween with me, okay?” Tate said shakily. He threw his backpack off, setting it next to him. Tate sat on your stomach, pinning your wrists down with his knees. You struggled slightly, hoping to get away from him.

“Moira!” You call, hoping to get the attention of your housekeeper, Moira. She was a kind, caring soul, but also a bit cold. Luckily for you, she liked you more than she liked your family or any of the other ghosts in the house. Tate pulls out a red ball gag, shoving it into your mouth before securing it at the back of your head. He moved your hair, prodding you like you were one of those porcelain dolls.

“Shh..calm down, Y/n..” Tate cooed, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. You whimpered into the gag, looking up at him with scared eyes.

“Hey-! You know i won’t hurt you!” Tate said sternly, shaking your shoulder. He took your wrists and handcuffed them to the bars of your headboard. You watched him pace the room, looking through his backpack. Tate was nervous himself, but the scared look on your face make him feel even worse. Tate pulled a small pill bottle out of his bag. He rushed back over to you, holding the bottle.

Tate sat next to your bound body on the bed, cupping your cheek in his hand. His other hand held the pill bottle in front of you. “Y/n, Y/n, look. I need you to take these, okay?”

Tate pulled the gag out of your mouth so you could speak. You hyperventilated, looking up at the boy who was supposed to take care of you, supposed to love you. He took his hand off of your face and grabbed your throat, tightening his hand around it. He held your throat tightly and popped the cap off of the bottle.

“Tate, I don’t wanna..” You cry. Tate grabs your throat tighter, looking down at you with tears in his eyes.

“No, c’mon Y/n! If you take ‘em, we’ll be together forever, okay?” Tate spoke quickly, clearly in a panic. You shook your head, whimpering.

“Just open your fucking mouth,” Tate growled, pushing your jaw down with one latex hand while the other shoved two little white and blue pills into your mouth. He forced them down so far that you had no choice but to swallow them.

“Swallow…Swallow them, babe. Swallow them and we can be together,” Tate cooed as you coughed and cried, your tears soaking your face. Once you swallowed the pills, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

Tate wrapped his hands around your neck, closing them tightly. His fingers dug into your neck, closing your airways. You looked up at him, wide eyes as you gasped for the air that you’d never receive again after this moment. Tate looked at you, swallowing hard. His warm, salty tears fell onto your face. He was sobbing now, sobbing as his fingers tightened around your throat.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Y/n, but this was the only way…” Tate cried softly. His hands tightened as hard as they could. Harder and harder and harder until your airways snapped in your throat. Tate took his hands off your throat the moment he heard your airway collapse. He gasped, tears continuing to fall like a flood from his eyes Tate brushed his fingers over your eyelids, making sure they were closed.

“You’ll wake up in a few days, okay?” Tate sniffled, kissing your neck. He stroked your hair, kissing all over your neck and face as he cried. “I’m sorry..but we’ll be together now, okay…? You and me forever, Y/n..”

#tate langdon #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon oneshots #tate langdon imagines #murder house #ahs season 1 #ahs smut #tate langdon smut

180 notes · View notes