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ain't no sunshine — steve harrington

▸summary: steve just wants cuddles. and he'll play the song on repeat until he gets them.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader

▸tw: tooth. rotting. FLUFF

▸a/n: i did not die. have some happy words.

HE MUST'VE HAD the song downloaded four-hundred times on his cassette tape, because you were just about ready to bash your head in when the beginning notes played from Steve's bedroom. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, it's not warm when she's away.

You were in the living room, finishing up some writings that you had due for your classes when you gazed unamused at the ceiling. He'd been playing the song on repeat, singing along badly in order to coax you into giving him some love and affection as you always did on a Tuesday afternoon. Unfortunately, this deadline was currently taking priority, and Steve was being a drama queen about it. 

You still had about four pages to write, as well as some questions to answer before anything else took over your mind, so you had to suffer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long, anytime she goes away.

You'd practically memorised the words and melody to this song, mouthing them with good ol' Bill Withers as he provided sustenance to feed Steve's dramatics. You could hear Steve's faux grieving voice as he sang along, making the song a whole heap more dramatic than the original recording. 

Wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gonna stay.

Trying to persevere through the loud stereo blasting muffled music above your head is a lot more difficult than you might imagine. Ever since you had gone to his place in a tizzy that you had things to do before a deadline and couldn't afford any distractions, you had banished him to his room, and for about an hour, had some quiet. 

That changed when the second hour became the third, and the music started when the sun began to go down, reeling on loop as though it was a broken record. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

You smiled slightly, though. For all of Steve's dramatics and ridiculous behaviours, he loved you, and you loved him. All of his quirks made him special to you, and you loved to be with him no matter what was happening around the world, especially when the whole Upside Down thing began catching up to him, mentally and physically. Now, he was a cuddly baby that loved hugging you. He always said that he felt safer to sleep in your arms. 

And I know, I know, I know, I know...

He must've given up on singing, because Steve's voice could no longer be heard. Probably ran out of oxygen. Good. He needed to rest after the whole Russian situation. You only had one page left to write and a few more questions to do before you could give your Steve what he needed so desperately. 

A hug. And a fat nap.

You sighed as the tape continued playing the bridge, scrawling your pencil over the paper. You had started with gorgeous cursive, and had evolved into writing chicken scratch to speed up the time. Two questions down, half a page to go...

Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Three lines, two sentences, aaaaand...

Done.

Throwing the pencil down and thudding the book shut, you pushed yourself to a standing position, practically bounding up the stairs, dragging yourself up by the handrails. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday.

You came to the first floor landing, stepping onto the carpeted floor with your socked feet and beelined for Steve's room. The door was shut, but Bill's soothing voice carried through the wood, almost getting impossibly loud as you inched closer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

Stepping into the room as you swing open the door, the final outro of the song is echoing through, fading away. You smile to find Steve on his back, staring at the ceiling as he waits for the next loop to begin. 

You are silent as you halt the tape, crawling onto the bed and giving him a big ol' smooch. He looks at you with innocent and wide eyes, a big fat smile settling on his face. 

"All done?" he asks. 

You nod, confirming. "All done."

You yelp as he flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tumbling over the other side of the bed. He's quick to bring the covers over you both, leaving the bed side light on. A new habit, but it didn't bother you. 

You tussled for a little, finding a comfortable position that agreed with all parties and bones. You settled on bear hugging him as he tangled your legs together and kept his nose near your hair. 

You giggled, running your nails down his back. "You big baby." 

He grumbled. "Ain't no sunshine when you're not here."

soooooooo i’m not dead

somethings are in the works. just gotta format them and actually write them out lols

harry potter materlist

⤑ characters

remus lupin | 

⤑ remus lupin

puppy love & flowers

puppy love and flowers — remus lupin

▸summary: he's absolutely sure he loves you. he's absolutely sure you love him. flowers aren't given to just anybody.

▸characters: remus lupin x f! reader, lil snippets of james and sirius and peter

▸tw: hay fever, small sadness moment

▸a/n: consider this my apology for the previous angst post. also, look at the guy. he's a smol bean

REMUS LUPIN WAS a sucker for a good bouquet. He'd always want to give them to you, yet he could never find the moment. There'd always be something that would stop him.

Today was one of the days where his plans were smudged.

It was a Hogsmeade day, so naturally, he with his posse decided to head into the town to scope out bouquets. There was one he'd seen little bit ago that he was fidgeting to buy. It was a beautiful set of red and white roses with baby's breath surrounding them. They were your favourite flowers.

Sirius Black had never felt so depressed than when he had watched his friends realise that the 'sold out' sign was for the bouquet he wanted to get for you. He felt so out of place when Remus looked like he had just been deprived of his natural resource of chocolate.

"Why not just get her different flowers?" the Black boy asked, awkwardness coating his very body in a tense feeling.

Remus sighed. "But those were for her. They were like, specifically crafted just so that she could have them. And now they're gone. And I still haven't gotten her flowers!"

James sympathised more with Remus that Sirius could. James often got flower for Lily from this very shop. Albeit, she always threw them out when she got them, but it was the thought that counted. Peter didn't say anything. He was too busy drawing stars in the snow.

The bespectacled boy put his hand on Remus' shoulder, noticing his friend's eyes welling with tears. "It's alright, mate. There's always tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day."

"But I wanted to get her those today."

There was something so frustrating about not getting something done on the day you planned. You'd feel so incomplete in your tasks, and he'd never get to sleep tonight. Well, he might drift off if he cried long enough.

The walk back to the dorms was long and awkward and tense and depressing. There were so many emotions. Remus has just been thwarted yet again in his attempts to woo you. Peter was plucking the snow off of his mittens one by one.

"Damn, mate, you are so in deep," Sirius teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I've heard of puppy love, but this just takes the cake."

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Remus muttered. It was kinda funny.

"I suppose so."

They had only gotten to the dorm when they heard the girls. They were laughing. No, hang on. They were shrieking. And... sneezing?

The four boys entered the common room to find Lily and Marlene holding onto furniture for dear life, their faces as red as their ties. Marlene tried to heave in a breath and little was wiping her face.

And then you sneezed. They erupted into laughter again.

"What on earth is going on?" James asked, confusion filling his bloodstream. The girls couldn't find the words, too busy giggling, so you decided to speak.

"I bought flowers for Remus," you started, your nose stuffed, "and I have just found out that I am, in fact, deathly allergic to flowers."

You sneezed again. The girls didn't completely fall apart, but they still chuckled.

Remus looked at you with those big eyes of his. "You got me flowers?"

"Yeah," you said sheepishly. "I though it'd be a nice surprise, but now I'm covered in snot, my nose and throat hurts, my head kinda aches, and my eyes are red."

You sneezed, and Remus started laughing. He rested his head on your shoulder, despite your protests.

"How did you never realise you had a tendency to get hay fever?" Sirius asked, trying to stifle his own chuckles.

"I don't know. It doesn't get this bad at home. The flowers there are small, and here, I don't go out much in the spring. It's too warm. Plus, it's not like I get up close and personal with flowers now, do I?"

"Yeah, but still. It's hay fever, it's a pretty common thing."

"Like I said," you sneezed again, away from Remus' face, "there just wasn't enough for me to notice." You paused for a second. "I always wondered why I got the sniffles in the springtime. I thought it was just spring colds."

James grinned. "Well, now you know."

You sneezed twice more, Remus brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

"I think we need to rescue you from your natural foe." He guided you by the hand outside of the common room, and he stole a glance back at the flowers you had bought for him, his heart swelling.

Red and white roses surrounded with baby's breath.

fear — steve harrington

▸summary: you expect people to do die with honour, with bravery, with courage. you died with fear. steve can't know.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader, eddie munson, dustin henderson

▸tw: angst. like, really bad. it's an issue.

▸a/n: i don't actually know what goes on inside my brain. for some reason, i just really like angst.

LOVE HURT.

IT was something that multiple people agreed upon. Steve Harrington was one of them. 

The whole party had some semblance of loss somewhere in their hearts, but Steve… 

It just seemed like something was gunning for him, sucking the happiness one loss at a time. 

Steve had never before known what love could’ve been until he met you. There was always something about you that never seemed to leave him alone. Whether it was that stupid grin, the stupid hair, the stupid arms, the stupid hugs, the stupid sappy words. Everything that Steve missed out on was being passed onto him like he was a reject shop, which was what he felt like. You gave him love, gave him hope, gave him life even. 

Then you died. 

When Dustin and Eddie came back through the portal without you, Steve freaked out. When Dustin couldn’t scream the words without them catching in his throat, Steve begged him to keep them there. When Dustin said he wasn’t strong enough to carry you and Eddie was on his way to collapse, Steve screamed that he was. He was strong. He could do it. He could, he promised he could. With tears in his eyes and dirt on his face and his hand on his chest, he promised he could carry you back. With his knees on the ground and his voice lost in the wind, he promised he could. 

So he ripped himself up like he wanted to rip his heart out of his body, ignoring the cries and begs of the people behind him. He had never moved faster in his life than when he was climbing into that portal, throwing open the caravan door, sprinting to the figure that lay in the dust. His voice returned as he screeched, flailing his arms to rid the area of any of the bats that might have smelled the meat, the fresh kill. There were no bats flying. They had all dropped a while ago. He knelt next to the person he had recklessly given everything to, shaking your shoulders and begging you to wake up. He didn’t stop asking the favour, even when he claimed it was too cold for you here, dragging you body upright into a standing position. He didn’t stop asking even when he began walking, praying that your legs would move the same way. They left tracks in the dirt as they dragged. He didn’t stop begging even when he screamed at Nancy to pull you through. She could feel the toll that death had taken on you. The loss of muscle, the eerie stillness. Yet, Steve still didn’t stop begging even when he said that you were safe now. 

Wake up now. You can’t sleep here. You have to wake up.

Your eyes were open. 

There was no such thing as peace at that moment. Nobody was blessed with the grieving silence. Steve wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want it to be silent, not when you loved to make noise. Not when you would laugh at his lame jokes. He couldn’t be silent in his efforts to somehow make you wake up. 

Eddie sat on the ground, his back propped up against the wall. He stared straight ahead, his facial expression not changing even as there was a tear. Nancy and Robin didn’t even try forcing their faces still. They twisted and sobbed and cried no matter how hard they tried to stifle it. They didn’t want to add to Steve’s pain. Dustin was in worse shape. He didn’t know what to do. Does he hug Steve? Does he leave him alone? Does he cry? Does he stay strong? What does he do? So, he stands there. He stands there, and he cries, and Steve doesn’t see. He can’t see. The blurriness of his vision paired with the agonising pain in his brain and his heart just makes it so that he doesn’t see anything. He can’t even remember how they got your body to the hospital. 

Telling your parents sucked. Steve couldn’t actually do it. He stood at one of the tables, folding clothes for the people packed in the stadium, the ones that had their houses crushed in the ‘earthquake’. He stood there, and he looked horrible. He was pale. He had bags under his eyes. He was thin. His eyes were red and his nose was raw. He couldn’t even talk properly. His hands shook. His knees trembled when your parents walked over. 

Dustin had spoken to them. Told them how you died. Or, how you ‘died’. You were caught saving him and Eddie in the ‘earthquake’, and you had died. He chose to keep the fact that you had stood alone, surrounded by a swarm of bats after pushing Eddie out of the fray into Dustin’s arms. 

The funny thing was, you didn’t die from the wounds from the bats. You didn’t even sustain many. Sure, you had enough that it would’ve put you in serious danger, but it wasn’t the wounds that killed you. Dustin may have been a little delirious, but he didn’t imagine you clutching your chest and dropping like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t imagine the jerk your body made as you breath caught. He didn’t imagine you dying standing up. He may not have been a doctor, but he wasn’t stupid. He was a nerd, and nerds read. 

You had a heart attack. The fear had actually killed you. You had been scared to death. 

That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when the bats began to swan dive straight onto you. That was the worst part. That was the part that got Dustin screaming himself awake at night. That was the part that pushed Dustin to drag Eddie away, away from you. You didn’t feel it, at least. Steve didn’t even know how you died. Dustin knew that if Steve knew, he’d actually go mental. So, he and Eddie swore never to tell anyone else. Not family, not the party, no-one. 

So when your mother came walking over to the Harrington boy, tears collecting in her eyes as she stretched her arms out, his knees finally gave out. He collapsed in her arms, filling her ears with never ending apologies. She shushed him, sobbing. Soon, your father joined the hug, and the three of them cried over your heroic sacrifice. 

Meanwhile, Dustin and Eddie looked on from opposite sides. They exchanged glances, and went back to their own work. They never had to know that your death was so out of place, that you died with that much fear. They never had to know that you had cried that you didn’t want to be there. They didn’t have to know that you had asked Eddie to take you home. They never had to know that you asked Dustin for one more hug. 

Love hurt, but they didn’t have to know how much worse it could get. 

They kept their mouths shut.

ain'tcha just the cutest — miguel diaz

▸summary: you have a phrase that you love to say to your boyfriend. miguel loves when you say it. win-win.

▸characters: miguel diaz, gn!reader

▸tw: fluff and sweet moments and cute stuff

▸a/n: uhhhhhhhhh personally i'm an angst girly but i need to expand my skills

IT IS A well known fact that Miguel is not a morning person. He is a bomb-sleeper. An earthquake could hit and he'd simply switch to the other side and continue dreaming.

This is the reason why you were awake, and he was not. Mind you, it was nine in the morning, but you had nothing to do, so you could kill a couple hours more.

You were not a strong sleeper. You were a lightweight, and once the slumber was gone, it was gone. It had happened a few times, but it was lessening recently, which you were thankful for. It just meant that you still got up early, sometimes at the crack of dawn.

It also meant that Miguel had his arms around you, restricting your options of escape as he snored delicately next to you. You wouldn't move for the world, but you had needs, and unfortunately, his arm was, in fact, pushing down on your bladder.

You tried slipping from his grip. He only tightened it and grumbled. You tried waking him up. He only cuddled more into you. You tried to wriggle out and forcibly remove his harm from around you. He simply slapped your hand away in his sleep and sighed as he placed back around you. It was futile. But it was cute.

But you really needed the bathroom.

So you resorted to an absolute manipulation strategy. You placed kiss after kiss after smooch after peck on his face until her eventually had to rub his eyes open. You took your chance, darting from his grasp before he could secure back to him. You chuckled lightly as you heard him whine into the pillow.

You came out of the bathroom finding him in exactly the same position he was in a couple of minutes ago, breathing deeply and half his head smushed in the pillow. You knelt next to the bed, brushing his very lovely hair away from his face. He grumbled again, grabbing your hand lazily and holding it to his chest.

You chuckled again, getting back into bed in a sitting up position so to be more comfortable as you played on your phone. You stroked his hair after freeing the hand he had grabbed.

"Ain'tcha just the cutest?" you mumbled under your breath. He nuzzled into your ribs, tickling you a little.

There was no reply, but that was the first time you said it.

The next time you said it, it was his birthday. You had wished him a happy birthday, and had given him his gift. It was a bracelet that he commanded you put on him immediately.

After the day went by, you paid him another visit, carrying a wicker basket with a blanket over the top. When you announced it was picnic time, he nearly tripped after trying to put on his best pants quickly.

Luckily, you managed to get to the grassy spot you had meditated on using a few hours ago without harm. He was fine, you were fine, everything was fine. You laughed through the afternoon, you kissing into the sunset, and you ate into the evening.

He must've been ravenous, because when you looked at him after taking a picture of the sunset on your phone, you burst out laughing. This boy had tomato sauce all over his face, and he still continued to devour the plate of spaghetti in front of him.

"Whatcha laughing at?" he asked, his words muffled because of the spaghetti. This only made you laugh harder, falling backwards as you clutched your sides. Poor guy was so confused when you started gasping for breath, looking at you with wide eyes.

When you sat back up, you grabbed a napkin from the basket, bringing it to his face. You held his face in one hand and wiped the sauce from the other. The previous exaggeration was not quite true. It was not all over his face. It was just gathered in the corners of his mouth, like a toddler. He waited patiently for you to finish bathing him, grinning at you when you halted.

You giggled, patting his face with the hand that was previously holding it. "Ain'tcha just the cutest?" His face lit up more than it did before, and his eyes could rivals lying saucers.

The most recent time you said it was when there was a rumour going around school about you. Something about you and your relationship history, which was actually over way before it began. But people loved to hold onto things that gave them a reason to poke their nose where it didn't belong.

So, you never let it bother you. Miguel was a little harder to persuade, but eventually, he left it alone. And it was a good decision. The rumour died down, the people lost interest, and you had a good day at school. Until you stepped into the cafeteria to see Miguel and another student tussling on the ground. The two boys were rolling around, and only did they separate when two teachers pushed past the masses of people and forcibly pulled them away from each other. Both were sent to the nurse, and you followed behind. They were sat on the two beds that were there.

You sighed as you stood in front of your boyfriend that had his head down to look at your feet. He was swinging his legs and cracking his knuckles and playing with his fingers.

"Look at me, please." Your voice was gentle and held room for negative response. But he'd never deny you anything, so he looked up at you. You sighed again.

His face wasn't as bad as the other guy's, but it was still roughed up. He was holding a tissue to his bleeding nose, his eye was a little red, he had a scratch on his cheekbone, and his knuckles were spotted like a dalmatian.

You took another tissue, wet it with your water bottle, and held it up to his scratch. You just cleaned it a little, and his twitched his eye a little. You heard the nurse and the other boy talking in the next room.

You finished cleaning the scratch before putting on a plain bandaid. You stroked his cheek.

"What did you hit him for?"

Miguel grumbled. "He was talking about you and the other guys, about how he was one of them and that he made you feel better than I do."

You frowned. You didn't even remember the other guy's face, how could he have—

Oh.

You scrunched up your nose. You'd forgotten about that.

"Miguel, he was a one night stand. Two years ago. We were at a party, and a little tipsy, and we did it." You leaned a little closer to his face. He met your eyes with his own. "I can assure you, I didn't even remember his face until now. How could he have made me feel good?"

He breathed out a laugh. "What about me?" He was blushing a little bit as he asked. "Do I make you feel good?"

You kissed his bandaid, holding his face in your hands, smushing it a little. "You make me feel best."

He grinned. He liked grinning. He had a good grin. "I make you feel best?"

"Yes, you do."

"Even though we don't..."

"Even though we don't."

"I love you lots, you know?"

That made you giggle. "I love you lots too." His eyes shone like stars when you said that, making you bump your noses together. "Ain'tcha just the cutest?"

"I am?"

"You are."

You kissed his bandaid again.

i beggest thou pardon — eddie munson

▸summary: you have an issue. eddie has a talent at acting. you have to get rid of a really sketchy guy. he has to get people to stop making up rumours about him and chrissy. a perfect problem. 

▸characters: eddie munson, fem!reader, chrissy cunningham, male!oc

▸tw: creep guy, borderline sa, an adult word or two

▸a/n: this came to me in a dream. it was a great dream. i was sad it was over

MANY OF THE students at Hawkins would say that Percy Thorn was a pretty good choice of boyfriend. He was a very tall, slightly lanky yet strong art student with a charming personality, a dazzling smile, and a 1984 Harley Davidson FXRT. Yes, he was quite a choice.

He was also an incredible egomaniac.

For the past week and a half, Percy Thorn had not once left you alone if he could help it. Lunch times, he was there. Art class, he was there. Maths and English, he was there. He was like carbon dioxide: always there, yet never wanted. 

Well, this past couple of days, he’d gone above and beyond in trying his best to ‘get you’. He’d tried the flirting, leaning against inanimate objects (and animate objects, such as poor Joseph with the glasses), pick up lines, asking his friends to ask you out for him. Nothing seemed to work. So, he tried the next option.

Touching.

First, it was an arm around your shoulders. Then pats on the head. Then a hand grab. But today, he’d been rather bold, going as far as to place a hand on your thigh. When he did that, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Oh, boy. You had just told Percy Thorn that you had a boyfriend. That did not exist. That was nowhere to be found. That currently had his residential address set in Narnia. You had to find a boyfriend, stat.

When lunch rolled around, you burst into the cafeteria wide-eyed, panicked, and panting. Your eyes then landed on one set person that could quite possibly guarantee your safety from Mr.-let-me-lick-my-lips-and-hope-I-look-sexy.

You beelined for the table he was currently sitting at, taking the empty seat next to him, smoothing out your skirt. 

“I’m really sorry, but I need a boyfriend.”

The man blinked once, twice, gaping like a fish. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before blurting, “I beggest thou pardon?”

It was probably the stupidest thing Eddie Munson could have said. But he was discussing Hellfire, and he was speaking in old English, and then he remembered he had a Shakespeare assignment due tomorrow, and the dominoes just kept falling. 

Eddie had never thought that someone such as yourself, a rather ethereal being that was currently spending her angelic time at a school such as this, could ever taint her reputation by breathing the same air as him, never mind sitting next to him. He was a little taken aback, evidently. 

Gareth, who was sitting opposite him, merely dropped his head rather heavily on the table, banging it a couple of times before sighing. Jeff merely pat him a few times on the back, muttering “I know, dude, I know” to the poor boy. You and Eddie both watched this with rather similar facial expressions, allowing Eddie time to process what you’d just said.

“I’m so sorry,” he backtracked. “I meant to say... what?”

“Percy Thorn won’t leave me alone, and I told him I had a boyfriend, and he didn’t believe, me, and he won’t believe me until I show him, and I know that you’re a kind of freak, no offence, but if you pretended to date me, he’d probably get the message and leave me alone because he would never try to mess with you, what with you being the devil’s spawn or something, I don’t know, but I suppose the basic gist of this is, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend so he can stop touching me?”

How you managed to say that in one breath was rather impressive, Eddie had to admit. He also had to admit that he was, in fact, not listening until you mentioned touching. His eyes narrowed when he heard that and he pursed his lips. 

See, he had his own little problem. Someone had seen Chrissy and him talking at one point in time, and now they had spread the rumour that the two were know a thing, meaning that Chrissy’s anxiety had skyrocketed when people whispered, and Eddie was getting into a lot more fights than he was before the rumours began. He’d only just had a black eye fade, and already had a threat for another one. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to go blind.

“Pissing off Percy Thorn, huh?” he murmured thoughtfully. “Hmmmm...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, dude, take the deal,” Gareth hissed, not lifting his head from the table. 

“Sure, why not?” the metalhead smirked, and you nearly fell backwards from relief. 

“Okay,” you breathed, ready to cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, relax.” He raised a hand to your waist, halting and asking permission with his eyes. At your soft smile and small nod, he wrapped an arm around your lower back, peeking two fingers underneath your ABBA themed baby tee. You shivered at the cool temperature of his silver rings, and were quite flustered at the heat of his skin. It was a rather beautiful contrast. 

You were a rather physically affectionate person, and were rarely uncomfortable with touch unless someone else was. But this was an Eddie-initiated thing, so you leaned into his side, placing your head just below his collarbone. His hair smelt nice, and it was gorgeously soft. He had great curls. 

“Wow, your hair is like, ridiculously nice,” you muttered. He chuckled. 

“Thanks, doll. It’s my three-in-one shampoo,” he joked. You cracked a small smile at that, it dropping as soon as you heard footsteps and turned to see the douchebag himself strutting over. 

“Well, well, well.” Percy Thorn also had a very silky voice. He could’ve been a voice actor. “We find ourselves in a predicament at the moment.” 

Gareth lifted his head from the table, his eyes slits as he glared through his own brunette curls at the leather-clad artist. “And what would that be, o mighty one?”

Percy turned up his lips, looking Gareth up and down, turning back to Eddie. “The devil’s spawn has his hands on my girl.”

Eddie raised his lips in a sarcastic grin, cocking his head. “Last I checked, she was my girl.” Eddie tightened his arm to sell the point, and you raised your hand to his, lacing your fingers. You really wanted to vomit when Percy said ‘his girl’.

Percy scoffed. “Oh, please. No one would be caught dead sharing your seat on the bus, let alone allowing themselves to be called your girl.”

“Yeah, well, the reason she is my girl is because we shared a seat on the bus, so I guess luck was on my side.”

Damn, Eddie was good at lying. You smirked a little at the little made up story. You nuzzled into his neck a little, grabbing his attention. 

“I have to go. Mrs. Craig won’t handle tardiness from anyone, not for the sake of algebra.” You swung your legs over the seat, hand still interlaced. He did the same, only with one leg. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, delighting in Percy’s absolute look of fury.

“I shall see you soon, my heavenly rose,” he bade farewell, sounding like one of the characters from the play he was meant to be analysing, Twelfth Night. You giggled a little. Even though you were only pretending, Eddie was rather funny. 

“I await the chance, fair knight,” you returned, curtseying rather clumsily. He smiled back at you. You were quite pretty when you smiled. 

You began to walk away, avoiding Percy’s look of rage when you passed. You couldn’t walk very far however, when you gasped, stopping in your tracks. Tears appeared in your eyes. 

Percy smirked, the spot where he’d slapped your butt still tingling. You’d never wear this skirt in public again. Your hand flew to the spot, trying to stop something, anything, everything from happening all at once. You spun around, hunched over a little as you kept your legs together, as though you were a cowering puppy. 

Eddie’s smile faded, replaced with a rather scathing look. The look of fear, no, distress that was on your face had him reeling. He grabbed the nearest thing, which was his lunch tray, shot up, flung his arms back, and brought the tray right on Percy’s ear. 

The art student crumbled like a sack of potatoes, yelling as he clutched his ear. Eddie stood in front of you protectively, lunch tray still clutched rather tightly in his hand. 

“You bastard.”

“Mr. Munson!” The whole cafeteria swung from looking at Eddie to looking at the teacher that had just shouted. “Principal’s office! Now!”

The brunette sighed, dropping the tray. Gareth sputtered.

“Wha- but Percy literally just assaulted her!”

“You too!” She didn’t even know his last name. 

“That’s not fair.” You were trying to help, but it was hard when you were trying not to burst into tears. 

“You know what? Life’s not fair. All three of you, go!” She pointed in the direction of the principal’s office Percy’s friends rushed to help their fallen mate.

Eddie stuck close to you the whole walk to the principal’s office. “Welp, that was an eventful relationship.” He tried joking, but it didn’t crack a smile this time.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I got you both in trouble.”

“Nah,” Gareth waved his hand, dismissing you. “It was worth it. Seeing Thorn fold like that was funny. Plus,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Eddie’s got a girlfriend.”

“Pretend girlfriend.” Eddie cleared his throat turning a little red. Gareth shrugged and walked a bit in front of them. The metalhead turned to you, sheepishly running his hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry about him, and that whole tray smack thing.”

“It’s okay, for both things.” You said quietly. “But, uh, you wouldn’t mind being my pretend boyfriend for a little longer, would you? I’m a little paranoid now.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Eddie grinned like the cheshire cat. “How about I drop you home to solidify the story?”

You smiled at that. “I’d really love that.”

Besides, he could use your help on that assignment.

stranger things masterlist.

⤑ characters

⤑ eddie munson

 i beggest thou pardon

⤑ steve harrington

fear

ain’t no sunshine

hi everyone!

using this blog to up my writing skills and share my thoughts and feelings with you all

hope you enjoy, and i am totally open to requests at any time! i will list the fandoms i write for underneath:

- stranger things

- cobra kai

- twilight

- the vampire diaries/the originals

- criminal minds

- grishaverse

i am open to expanding my list. i do not write smut, and i retain the right to refuse any requests that make me uncomfortable, even though i’m sure it won’t be the case :)

so ask away, my fine friends!

all love, hugs, and mungbeans

darcy <3

cobra kai masterlist. 

nothing like this — cobra kai

▸summary: you believed you were ready for anything. anything did not mean this. nothing like this.

▸characters: robby keene, gn!reader, miguel diaz

▸tw: miguel’s fall scene, uhhhhhh, emotions, angst, adult words

▸a/n: let’s begin my blogging experience with angst, why not? it sucks ass, but here ya go

PEOPLE SAY THAT IN order to be successful in life, you must expect the unexpected.

Well, this was unexpected and you did no expect it at all.

You knew that there was always going to be some beef between two pretty girls when they used to share a mutual boyfriend, but goddamn, you never expected it to be broadcasted over the loudspeaker. 

Of course, you had no idea what happened. Just that Samantha LaRusso had done something, and Tory Nichols was coming for her. Those words began the chaos that would make or break the tension between the two rivalling karate dojos. 

Now, you weren’t in karate. No, the only way you were affiliated with Miyagi-Do Karate was purely because you were Mrs. LaRusso’s assistant secretary, and thus made regular trips to the family home in order to be taught how to do things and make sure that she did them correctly. 

Whilst you made these visits, you often times came across the students that Mr. LaRusso taught in his backyard. Thus far, there were only two, his daughter Sam, and another boy named Robby. Robby Keene.

Gosh, since the first moment you met, you were smitten. What was there not to like about him? He was good-looking, humorous, had a great personality, and he was kind. He was sweet. You knew this because one time, you were late to the home, and wasn’t watching where you were going, so, of course, you bumped into someone in pure comic book romance fashion. All the papers you had been gathering in your hands had been dropped, and it was a miracle that they didn’t all get out of order. It was still frustrating, though, but you still began profusely apologising to the person you had bumped into. 

You knew you had been rambling for about twenty seconds before you were stopped by the other person’s laugh, and soon you were laughing together. Mrs. LaRusso was watching from the window, and Mr. LaRusso was from the side gate, but they’d never admit it. They were quite happy to listen to you guys completely lose your shit over something so small, but alas, both of you had things to do. 

No matter how close you two got, you weren’t surprised when Robby asked Sam out for a date. And despite how much it hurt, of course you were going to help Sam pick out an outfit. What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t? Well, more employee than friend, but you get the point. 

Cutting back to the current day, you was concerned about what Sam could’ve done to Tory that warranted such a reaction. So, with the rest of the school, you brisk-walked to where the biggest crowd was. Right in the middle of the hallway. You couldn’t get passed the rows of people at first, but eventually, you wound up next to Hawk, someone you knew of but had never really spoken to. You had no reason to. Now she did. 

“What’s happened?” You peered curiously at the two girls, circling each other like Scar and Simba in that one scene from The Lion King. 

Your question was not answered by the person you had asked it to, but by one of the said lions in the cage. “You kissed Miguel.” 

Tory’s tone was so cold, yet so heartbroken, that the words she spoke yielded such an uproar from the crowd. Gasps were heard all around, and you felt your eyes widen as they met with Robby’s on the other side. His eyes looked so pained, so vulnerable, you wanted nothing more than to hug and shield him from the cruelties of the world. 

You weren’t quite sure what really happened. Everything went by so fast, and you were quite literally pushed away from the drama, so you didn’t get to see too much. Despite this, and despite nearly being run over by Demetri sprinting from Hawk, you headed to where you knew the rest of the school would be going.

The stairs.

For some reason, you had wound up at the bottom of the stairs even though you were on the level above a few moments ago. The real trick now was to make your way up to the upper level without getting your face broken. 

You were not going to do anything with the girls. No, girl fights are best left alone. Your main concern was how far Robby was going to go, because from the angle you were at now, he wasn’t stopping. His kicks were never ending, his punches ever blurring, and you didn’t have an opening to go and see the damage. You didn’t have to like Miguel. You had only ever spoken two word to him and he seemed like a good kid. But you liked Robby. And you knew that Robby would keep going until either, or both of them, were dead or close to it. 

So, when you found your opening, you raced upwards, narrowly avoiding Tory’s stray fist, and managing to haul yourself to the upper level. Where you arrived just in time to see Miguel pin Robby to the ground. You saw him whisper something to the boy on the tile, his raised fist gently falling to his side as he stood up. You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that this part was over.

It wasn’t.

No sooner had Miguel began to arise than Robby felt the fire erupt once more in his chest. He whipped around, and you watched as he continued aiming his hits at the poor boy.

“Robby, leave him alone!” Your words had no affect, but you thought you may as well try. Plan B then had to be out into motion. Ignoring the advice you had given yourself long ago about not getting in the middle of fights, you found yourself doing just that. You raced to the boy in the blue hoodie trying to get him to stop. Unfortunately, his brain was already in the fight mode, so he wasn’t stopping for any money.

The fist you had stupidly grabbed was flung forward, you trailing behind it as you were thrown into Miguel’s chest. Instinctively, his hands grabbed your arms and pulled you down as Robby foot aimed at his chest. He harshly pushed you away, which you weren’t concerned about, and caught Robby’s other foot with his hands. He didn’t catch the other one that struck him across the face and you put your hands over your mouth as you sat there on the tiles with you body trembling and you tears gathering.

The boy you liked, you crushed on (you had thought), was unhinged. He had deluded himself that he was defending himself, and he didn’t notice that his defence had turned into offence against his opponent.

Soon enough, Robby had Miguel pinned against the railing in a dangerous way. You had raced to your feet and had tried to grab one of Miguel’s outstretched hands, failing miserably. Robby had to grab your arm to keep you from falling over the edge.

And so you watched the boy fall over the edge, your knees buckling as he hit the staircase handlebar. Your hands were shaking, your breath was heavy and trembling, your eyes were watering and wide.

Robby had grabbed by both arms, and now you were aware of it. You threw yourself away from him, shoving him back in the process.

“Get off me!” You were hysterical. You had seen a classmate fall at the hands of the person you had thought you would stick by through thick and thin. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

Robby looked lost, and as his fight dwindled, his flight rose a hundred fold, and he bolted. Your vision became blurry as you sank to the tile, the adrenaline running out as you struggled to comprehend what you had just witnessed. Because it shouldn’t have been this.

Nothing like this.